[illustration: "'don't you know any better than to come in here?' demanded the prince"] truxton king a story _of_ graustark by george barr mccutcheon author of "graustark" "beverly of graustark" etc. with illustrations by harrison fisher new york dodd, mead & company contents chapter page i truxton king ii a meeting of the cabinet iii many persons in review iv truxton trespasses v the committee of ten vi ingomede the beautiful vii at the witch's hut viii looking for an eye ix strange disappearances x the iron count xi under the ground xii a new prisoner arrives xiii a divinity shapes xiv on the river xv the girl in the red cloak xvi the merry vagabond xvii the throwing of the bomb xviii truxton on parade xix truxton exacts a promise xx by the water-gate xxi the return xxii the last stand xxiii "you will be mrs. king" illustrations "'don't you know any better than to come in here?' demanded the prince" (page ) _frontispiece_ "'you are the only man to whom i feel sure that i can reveal myself and be quite understood'" _facing page_ "'bobby! don't be foolish. how could i be in love with _him_?'" "'his majesty appears to have--ahem--gone to sleep,' remarked the grand duke tartly" truxton king a story of graustark chapter i truxton king he was a tall, rawboned, rangy young fellow with a face so tanned by wind and sun you had the impression that his skin would feel like leather if you could affect the impertinence to test it by the sense of touch. not that you would like to encourage this bit of impudence after a look into his devil-may-care eyes; but you might easily imagine something much stronger than brown wrapping paper and not quite so passive as burnt clay. his clothes fit him loosely and yet were graciously devoid of the bagginess which characterises the appearance of extremely young men whose frames are not fully set and whose joints are still parading through the last stages of college development. this fellow, you could tell by looking at him, had been out of college from two to five years; you could also tell, beyond doubt or contradiction, that he had been in college for his full allotted time and had not escaped the usual number of "conditions" that dismay but do not discourage the happy-go-lucky undergraduate who makes two or three teams with comparative ease, but who has a great deal of difficulty with physics or whatever else he actually is supposed to acquire between the close of the football season and the opening of baseball practice. this tall young man in the panama hat and grey flannels was truxton king, embryo globe-trotter and searcher after the treasures of romance. somewhere up near central park, in one of the fashionable cross streets, was the home of his father and his father's father before him: a home which truxton had not seen in two years or more. it is worthy of passing notice, and that is all, that his father was a manufacturer; more than that, he was something of a power in the financial world. his mother was not strictly a social queen in the great metropolis, but she was what we might safely call one of the first "ladies in waiting." which is quite good enough for the wife of a manufacturer; especially when one records that her husband was a manufacturer of steel. it is also a matter of no little consequence that truxton's mother was more or less averse to the steel business as a heritage for her son. be it understood, here and now, that she intended truxton for the diplomatic service: as far removed from sordid steel as the new york post office is from the court of st. james. but neither truxton's father, who wanted him to be a manufacturing croesus, or truxton's mother, who expected him to become a social solomon, appears to have taken the young man's private inclinations into consideration. truxton preferred a life of adventure distinctly separated from steel and velvet; nor was he slow to set his esteemed parents straight in this respect. he had made up his mind to travel, to see the world, to be a part of the big round globe on which we, as ordinary individuals with no personality beyond the next block, are content to sit and encourage the single ambition to go to europe at least once, so that we may not be left out of the general conversation. young mr. king believed in romance. he had believed in santa claus and the fairies, and he grew up with an ever increasing bump of imagination, contiguous to which, strange to relate, there was a properly developed bump of industry and application. hence, it is not surprising that he was willing to go far afield in search of the things that seemed more or less worth while to a young gentleman who had suffered the ill-fortune to be born in the nineteenth century instead of the seventeenth. romance and adventure, politely amorous but vigorously attractive, came up to him from the seventeenth century, perhaps through the blood of some swash-buckling ancestor, and he was held enthralled by the possibilities that lay hidden in some far off or even nearby corner of this hopelessly unromantic world of the twentieth century. to be sure there was war, but war isn't romance. besides, he was too young to fight against spain; and, later on, he happened to be more interested in football than he was in the japs or the russians. the only thing left for him to do was to set forth in quest of adventure; adventure was not likely to apply to him in fifth avenue or at the factory or--still, there was a certain kind of adventure analogous to broadway, after all. he thought it over and, after trying it for a year or two, decided that broadway and the tenderloin did not produce the sort of romance he could cherish for long as a self-respecting hero, so he put certain small temptations aside, chastened himself as well as he could, and set out for less amiable but more productive by-ways in other sections of the globe. we come upon him at last--luckily for us we were not actually following him--after two years of wonderful but rather disillusioning adventure in mid-asia and all africa. he had seen the congo and the euphrates, the ganges and the nile, the yang-tse-kiang and the yenisei; he had climbed mountains in abyssinia, in siam, in thibet and afghanistan; he had shot big game in more than one jungle, and had been shot at by small brown men in more than one forest, to say nothing of the little encounters he had had in most un-occidental towns and cities. he had seen women in morocco and egypt and persia and--but it is a waste of time to enumerate. strange to say, he was now drifting back toward the civilisation which we are pleased to call our own, with a sense of genuine disappointment in his heart. he had found no sign of romance. adventure in plenty, but romance--ah, the fairy princesses were in the story books, after all. here he was, twenty-six years old, strong and full of the fire of life, convincing himself that there was nothing for him to do but to drift back to dear old new york and talk to his father about going into the offices; to let his mother tell him over and over again of the nice girls she knew who did not have to be rescued from ogres and all that sort of thing in order to settle down to domestic obsolescence; to tell his sister and all of their mutual friends the whole truth and nothing but the truth concerning his adventures in the wilds, and to feel that the friends, at least, were predestined to look upon him as a fearless liar, nothing more. for twenty days he had travelled by caravan across the persian uplands, through herat, and meshed and bokhara, striking off with his guide alone toward the sea of aral and the eastern shores of the caspian, thence through the ural foothills to the old roman highway that led down into the sweet green valleys of a land he had thought of as nothing more than the creation of a hairbrained fictionist. somewhere out in the shimmering east he had learned, to his honest amazement, that there was such a land as graustark. at first he would not believe. but the english bank in meshed assured him that he would come to it if he travelled long enough and far enough into the north and west and if he were not afraid of the hardships that most men abhor. the dying spirit of romance flamed up in his heart; his blood grew quick again and eager. he would not go home until he had sought out this land of fair women and sweet tradition. and so he traversed the wild and dangerous tartar roads for days and days, like the knights of scheherazade in the times of old, and came at last to the gates of edelweiss. not until he sat down to a rare dinner in the historic hotel regengetz was he able to realise that he was truly in that fabled, mythical land of graustark, quaint, grim little principality in the most secret pocket of the earth's great mantle. this was the land of his dreams, the land of his fancy; he had not even dared to hope that it actually existed. and now, here he was, pinching himself to prove that he was awake, stretching his world-worn bones under a dainty table to which real food was being brought by--well, he was obliged to pinch himself again. from the broad terrace after dinner he looked out into the streets of the quaint, picture-book town with its mediæval simplicity and ruggedness combined; his eyes tried to keep pace with the things that his fertile brain was seeing beyond the glimmering lights and dancing window panes--for the whole scene danced before him with a persistent unreality that made him feel his own pulse in the fear that some sudden, insidious fever had seized upon him. if any one had told him, six months before, that there was such a land as graustark and that if he could but keep on travelling in a certain direction he would come to it in time, he would have laughed that person to scorn, no matter how precise a geographer he might have been. young mr. king, notwithstanding his naturally reckless devotion to first impressions, was a much wiser person than when he left his new york home two years before. roughing it in the wildest parts of the world had taught him that eagerness is the enemy of common sense. therefore he curbed the thrilling impulse to fare forth in search of diversion on this first night; he conquered himself and went to bed early--and to sleep at once, if that may serve to assist you in getting an idea of what time and circumstances had done for his character. a certain hard-earned philosophy had convinced him long ago that adventure is quite content to wait over from day to day, but that when a man is tired and worn it isn't quite sensible to expect sleep to be put off regardless. with a fine sense of sacrifice, therefore, he went to bed, forsaking the desire to tread the dim streets of a city by night in advance of a more cautious survey by daylight. he had come to know that it is best to make sure of your ground, in a measure, at least, before taking too much for granted--to look before you leap, so to speak. and so, his mind tingling with visions of fair ladies and goodly opportunities, he went to sleep--and did not get up to breakfast until noon the next day. and now it becomes my deplorable duty to divulge the fact that truxton king, after two full days and nights in the city of edelweiss, was quite ready to pass on to other fields, completely disillusionised in his own mind, and not a little disgusted with himself for having gone to the trouble to visit the place. to his intense chagrin, he had found the quaint old city very tiresome. true, it was a wonderful old town, rich in tradition, picturesque in character, hoary with age, bulging with the secrets of an active past; but at present, according to the well travelled truxton, it was a poky old place about which historians either had lied gloriously or had been taken in shamelessly. in either case, edelweiss was not what he had come to believe it would be. he had travelled overland for nearly a month, out of the heart of asia, to find himself, after all, in a graveyard of great expectations! he had explored edelweiss, the capital. he had ridden about the ramparts; he had taken snapshots of the fortress down the river and had not been molested; he had gone mule-back up the mountain to the snowcapped monastery of st. valentine, overtopping and overlooking the green valleys below; he had seen the tower in which illustrious prisoners were reported to have been held; he had ridden over the king's road to ganlook and had stood on american bridges at midnight--all the while wondering why he was there. moreover, he had traversed the narrow, winding streets of the city by day and night; never, in all his travels, had he encountered a more peaceful, less spirit-stirring place or populace. everybody was busy, and thrifty, and law abiding. he might just as well have gone to prague or nuremburg; either was as old and as quaint and as stupid as this lukewarm city in the hills. where were the beautiful women he had read about and dreamed of ever since he left teheran? on his soul, he had not seen half a dozen women in edelweiss who were more than passably fair to look upon. true, he had to admit, the people he had seen were of the lower and middle classes--the shopkeepers and the shopgirls, the hucksters and the fruit vendors. what he wanted to know was this: what had become of the royalty and the nobility of graustark? where were the princes, the dukes and the barons, to say nothing of the feminine concomitants to these excellent gentlemen? what irritated him most of all was the amazing discovery that there was a cook's tourist office in town and that no end of parties arrived and departed under his very nose, all mildly exhilarated over the fact that they had seen graustark! the interpreter, with "cook's" on his cap, was quite the most important, if quite the least impressive personage in town. it is no wonder that this experienced globe-trotter was disgusted! there was a train to vienna three times a week. he made up his mind that he would not let the saturday express go down without him. he had done some emphatic sputtering because he had neglected to take the one on thursday. shunning the newly discovered american club in castle avenue as if it were a pest house, he lugubriously wandered the streets alone, painfully conscious that the citizens, instead of staring at him with admiring eyes, were taking but little notice of him. tall young americans were quite common in edelweiss in these days. one dingy little shop in the square interested him. it was directly opposite the royal café (with american bar attached), and the contents of its grimy little windows presented a peculiarly fascinating interest to him. time and again, he crossed over from the café garden to look into these windows. they were packed with weapons and firearms of such ancient design that he wondered what they could have been used for, even in the middle ages. once he ventured inside the little shop. finding no attendant, he put aside his suddenly formed impulse to purchase a mighty broadsword. from somewhere in the rear of the building came the clanging of steel hammers, the ringing of highly tempered metals; but, although he pounded vigorously with his cane, no one came forth to attend him. on several occasions he had seen a grim, sharp-featured old man in the doorway of the shop, but it was not until after he had missed the thursday train that he made up his mind to accost him and to have the broadsword at any price. with this object in view, he quickly crossed the square and inserted his tall frame into the narrow doorway, calling out lustily for attention. so loudly did he shout that the multitude of ancient swords and guns along the walls seemed to rattle in terror at this sudden encroachment of the present. "what is it?" demanded a sharp, angry voice at his elbow. he wheeled and found himself looking into the wizened, parchment-like face of the little old man, whose black eyes snapped viciously. "do you think i am deaf?" "i didn't know you were here," gasped truxton, forgetting to be surprised by the other's english. "the place looked empty. excuse me for yelling." "what do you want?" "that broad--say, you speak english, don't you?" "certainly," snapped the old man. "why shouldn't i? i can't afford an interpreter. you'll find plenty of english used here in edelweiss since the americans and british came. they won't learn our language, so we must learn theirs." "you speak it quite as well as i do." "better, young man. you are an american." the sarcasm was not lost on truxton king, but he was not inclined to resent it. a twinkle had come into the eyes of the ancient; the deep lines about his lips seemed almost ready to crack into a smile. "what's the price of that old sword you have in the window?" "do you wish to purchase it?" "certainly." "three hundred gavvos." "what's that in dollars?" "four hundred and twenty." "whew!" "it is genuine, sir, and three hundred years old. old prince boris carried it. it's most rare. ten years ago you might have had it for fifty gavvos. but," with a shrug of his thin shoulders, "the price of antiquities has gone up materially since the americans began to come. they don't want a thing if it is cheap." "i'll give you a hundred dollars for it, mr.--er--" he looked at the sign on the open door--"mr. spantz." "good day, sir." the old man was bowing him out of the shop. king was amused. "let's talk it over. what's the least you'll take in real money?" "i don't want your money. good day." truxton king felt his chin in perplexity. in all his travels he had found no other merchant whom he could not "beat down" two or three hundred per cent. on an article. "it's too much. i can't afford it," he said, disappointment in his eyes. "i have modern blades of my own make, sir, much cheaper and quite as good," ventured the excellent mr. spantz. "you make 'em?" in surprise. the old man straightened his bent figure with sudden pride. "i am armourer to the crown, sir. my blades are used by the nobility--not by the army, i am happy to say. spantz repairs the swords and guns for the army, but he welds only for the gentlemen at court." "i see. tradition, i suppose." "my great-grandfather wrought blades for the princes a hundred years ago. my son will make them after i am gone, and his son after him. i, sir, have made the wonderful blade with the golden hilt and scabbard which the little prince carries on days of state. it was two years in the making. there is no other blade so fine. it is so short that you would laugh at it as a weapon, and yet you could bend it double. ah, there was a splendid piece of work, sir. you should see the little toy to appreciate it. there are diamonds and rubies worth , gavvos set in the handle. ah, it is--" truxton's eyes were sparkling once more. somehow he was amused by the sudden garrulousness of the old armourer. he held up his hand to check the flow of words. "i say, herr spantz, or monsieur, perhaps, you are the first man i've met who has volunteered to go into rhapsodies for my benefit. i'd like to have a good long chat with you. what do you say to a mug of that excellent beer over in the café garden? business seems to be a little dull. can't you--er--lock up?" spantz looked at him keenly under his bushy brows, his little black eyes fairly boring holes into king's brain, so to speak. "may i ask what brings you to edelweiss?" he asked abruptly. "i don't mind telling you, mr. spantz, that i'm here because i'm somewhat of a fool. false hopes led me astray. i thought graustark was the home, the genesis of romance, and i'm more or less like that chap we've read about, who was always in search of adventure. somehow, graustark hasn't come up to expectations. up to date, this is the slowest burg i've ever seen. i'm leaving next saturday for vienna." "i see," cackled spantz, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "you thought you could capture wild and beautiful princesses here just as you pleased, eh? let me tell you, young man, only one american--only one foreigner, in fact--has accomplished that miracle. mr. lorry came here ten years ago and won the fairest flower graustark ever produced-the beautiful yetive--but he was the only one. i suppose you are surprised to find graustark a solid, prosperous, god-fearing little country, whose people are wise and happy and loyal. you have learned, by this time, that we have no princesses for you to protect. it isn't as it was when mr. lorry came and found her serene highness in mediæval difficulties. there is a prince on the throne to-day--you've seen him?" "no. i'm not looking for princes. i've seen hundreds of 'em in all parts of the world." "well, you should see prince robin before you scoff. he's the most wonderful little man in all the world." "i've heard of nothing but him, my good mr. spantz. he's seven years old and he looks like his mother and he's got a jewelled sword and all that sort of thing. i daresay he's a nice little chap. got american blood in him, you see." "do not let any one hear you laugh about him, sir. the people worship him. if you laugh too publicly, you may have your hands full of adventures in a very few minutes--and your body full of fine steel blades. we are very proud of our prince." "i beg your pardon, mr. spantz. i didn't mean _lesé majesté_. i'm bored, that's all. you wouldn't blame me for being sore if you'd come as far as i have and got as little for your pains. why, hang it all, this morning that confounded man from cook's had a party of twenty-two american school-teachers and bible students in the castle grounds and i had to stand on my toes outside the walls for two hours before i could get a permit to enter. american engineers are building the new railroad; american capital controls the telephone and electric light companies; there are two american moving picture shows in regengetz circus and an american rush hand laundry two blocks up. and you can get bourbon whisky anywhere. it's sickening." "the americans have done much for edelweiss, sir. we don't resent their progressiveness. they have given us modern improvements without overthrowing ancient customs. my dear young sir, we are very old here--and very honest. that reminds me that i should accept your kind invitation to the café garden. if you will bear with me for just one moment, sir." with this polite request, the old man retired to the rear of the shop and called out to some one upstairs. a woman's voice answered. the brief conversation which followed was in a tongue unknown to king. "my niece will keep shop, sir, while i am out," spantz explained, taking his hat from a peg behind the door. truxton could scarcely restrain a smile as he glanced over his queer little old guest. he looked eighty but was as sprightly as a man of forty. a fine companion for a youth of twenty-six in search of adventure! they paused near the door until the old man's niece appeared at the back of the shop. king's first glance at the girl was merely a casual one. his second was more or less in the nature of a stare of amazement. a young woman of the most astounding beauty, attired in the black and red of the graustark middle classes, was slowly approaching from the shadowy recesses at the end of the shop. she gave him but a cursory glance, in which no interest was apparent, and glided quietly into the little nook behind the counter, almost at his elbow. his heart enjoyed a lively thump. here was the first noticeably good-looking woman he had seen in edelweiss, and, by the powers, she was a sword-maker's niece! the old man looked sharply at him for an instant, and a quick little smile writhed in and out among the mass of wrinkles. instead of passing directly out of the shop, spantz stopped a moment to give the girl some suddenly recalled instruction. truxton king, you may be sure, did not precede the old man into the street. he deliberately removed his hat and waited most politely for age to go before youth, in the meantime blandly gazing upon the face of this amazing niece. across the square, at one of the tables, he awaited his chance and a plausible excuse for questioning the old man without giving offence. somewhere back in his impressionable brain there was growing a distinct hope that this beautiful young creature with the dreamy eyes was something more than a mere shopgirl. it had occurred to him in that one brief moment of contact that she had the air, the poise of a true aristocrat. the old man, over his huge mug of beer, was properly grateful. he was willing to repay king for his little attention by giving him a careful history of graustark, past, present and future, from the time of tartar rule to the time of the so-called "american invasion." ills glowing description of the little prince might have interested truxton in his lord fauntleroy days, but just at present he was more happily engaged in speculating on the true identify of the girl in the gun-shop. he recalled the fact that a former royal princess of graustark had gone sight-seeing over the world, incognita, as a miss guggenslocker, and had been romantically snatched up by a lucky american named lorry. what if this girl in the gun-shop should turn out to be a--well, he could hardly hope for a princess; but she might be a countess. the old mart was rambling on. "the young prince has lived most of his life in washington and london and paris, sir. he's only seven, sir. of course, you remember the dreadful accident that made him an orphan and put him on the throne with the three 'wise men of the east' as regents or governors. the train wreck near brussels, sir? his mother, the glorious princess yetive, was killed and his father, mr. lorry, died the next day from his injuries. that, sir, was a most appalling blow to the people of graustark. we loved the princess and we admired her fine american husband. there never will be another pair like them, sir. and to think of them being destroyed as they were--in the most dreadful way, sir. their coach was demolished, you remember. i--i will not go into the details. you know them, of course. god alone preserved the little prince. he was travelling with them, on the way from london to edelweiss. by some strange intervention of providence he had gone with his governess and other members of the party to the luggage van in the fore part of the train, which had stopped on a side track below the station. the collision was from the rear, a broken rail throwing a locomotive into the princess's coach. this providential escape of the young prince preserved the unbroken line of the present royal family. if he had been killed, the dynasty would have come to an end, and, i am telling no secret, sir, when i say that a new form of government would have followed." "what sort of government?" "a more modern system, sir. perhaps socialistic. i can't say. at all events, a new dynasty could not have been formed. the people would have rejected it. but prince robin was spared and, if i do say it, sir, he is the manliest little prince in all the world. you should see him ride and fence and shoot--and he is but seven!" "i say, mr. spantz, i don't believe i've told you that your niece is a most remarkably beau--" "as i was saying, sir," interrupted spantz, so pointedly that truxton flushed, "the little prince is the idol of all the people. under the present regency he is obliged to reside in the principality until his fifteenth year, after which he may be permitted to travel abroad. graustark intends to preserve him to herself if it is in her power to do so. woe betide the man who thinks or does ill toward little prince robin." king was suddenly conscious of a strange intentness of gaze on the old man's part. a peculiar, indescribable chill swept over him; he had a distinct, vivid impression that some subtle power was exercising itself upon him--a power that, for the briefest instant, held him in a grip of iron. what it was, he could not have told; it passed almost immediately. something in the old man's eyes, perhaps--or was it something in the queer smile that flickered about his lips? "my dear mr. spantz," he hastened to say, as if a defence were necessary, "please don't get it into your head that i'm thinking ill of the prince. i daresay he's a fine little chap and i'm sorry he's--er--lost his parents." spantz laughed, a soft, mirthless gurgle that caused truxton to wonder why he had made the effort at all. "i imagine his serene highness has little to fear from any american," he said quietly. "he has been taught to love and respect the men of his father's land. he loves america quite as dearly as he loves graustark." despite the seeming sincerity of the remark, truxton was vaguely conscious that a peculiar harshness had crept into the other's voice. he glanced sharply at the old man's face. for the first time he noticed something sinister--yes, evil--in the leathery countenance; a stealthiness in the hard smile that seemed to transform it at once into a pronounced leer. like a flash there darted into the american's active brain a conviction that there could be no common relationship between this flinty old man and the delicate, refined girl he had seen in the shop. now he recalled the fact that her dark eyes had a look of sadness and dejection in their depths, and that her face was peculiarly white and unsmiling. spantz was eyeing him narrowly. "you do not appear interested in our royal family," he ventured coldly. truxton hastened to assure him that he was keenly interested. especially so, now that i appreciate that the little prince is the last of his race." "there are three regents, sir, in charge of the affairs of state--count halfont, the duke of perse and baron jasto dangloss, who is minister of police. count halfont is a granduncle of the prince, by marriage. the duke of perse is the father of the unhappy countess ingomede, the young and beautiful wife of the exiled "iron count" marlanx. no doubt you've heard of him." "i've read something about him. sort of a gay old bounder, wasn't he? seems to me i recall the stories that were printed about him a few years ago. i remember that he was banished from the principality and his estates seized by the crown." "quite true, sir. he was banished in and now resides on his estates in austria. three years ago, in buda pesth, he was married to ingomede, the daughter of the duke. count marlanx has great influence at the austrian court. despite the fact that he is a despised and discredited man in his own country, he still is a power among people high in the government of more than one empire. the duke of perse realised this when he compelled his daughter to accept him as her husband. the fair ingomede is less than twenty-five years of age; the iron count is fully sixty-five." "she ought to be rescued," was king's only comment, but there was no mistaking the gleam of interest in his steady grey eyes. "rescued?" repeated the old man, with a broad grin. "and why? she is mistress of one of the finest old castles in austria, schloss marlanx, and she is quite beautiful enough to have lovers by the score when the count grows a little blinder and less jealous. she is in edelweiss at present, visiting her father. the count never comes here." "i'd like to see her if she's really beautiful. i've seen but one pretty woman in this whole blamed town--your niece, herr spantz. i've looked 'em over pretty carefully, too. she is exceedingly attract--" "pardon me, sir, but it is not the custom in graustark to discuss our women in the public drinking places." king felt as if he had received a slap in the face. he turned a fiery red under his tan and mumbled some sort of an apology. "the countess is a public personage, however, and we may speak of her," went on the old man quickly, as the american, in his confusion, called a waiter to replenish the tankards. the steely glitter that leaped into the armourer's eyes at this second reference to his niece disappeared as quickly as it came; somehow it left behind the impression that he knew how to wield the deadly blades he wrought. "i'd like to hear more about her," murmured mr. king. "anything to pass the time away, mr. spantz. as i said before, i journeyed far to reach this land of fair women and if there's one to be seen, i'm properly eager to jump at the chance. i've been here two days and i've seen nothing that could start up the faintest flutter around my heart. i'm sorry to say, my good friend, that the women i've seen in the streets of edelweiss are not beauties. i won't say that they'd stop a clock, but they'd cause it to lose two or three hours a day, all right enough." "you will not find the beautiful women of edelweiss in the streets, sir." "don't they ever go out shopping?" "hardly. the merchants, if you will but notice, carry their wares to the houses of the noble and the rich. graustark ladies of quality would no more think of setting foot in a shop or bazaar than they would think of entering a third class carriage. believe me, there are many beautiful women in the homes along castle avenue. noblemen come hundreds of miles to pay court to them." "just the same, i'm disgusted with the place. it's not what it's cracked up to be. saturday will see me on my way." "to-morrow the garrison at the fortress marches in review before the prince. if you should happen to be on the avenue near the castle gate at twelve o'clock, you will see the beauty and chivalry of graustark. the soldiers are not the only ones who are on parade." there was an unmistakable sneer in his tone. "you don't care much for society, i'd say," observed truxton, with a smile. spantz's eyes flamed for an instant and then subtly resumed their most ingratiating twinkle. "we cannot all be peacocks," he said quietly. "you will see the prince, his court and all the distinguished men of the city and the army. you will also see that the man who rides beside the prince's carriage wheel is an american, while graustark nobles take less exalted places." "an american, eh?" "yes. have you not heard of john tullis, the prince's friend?" "another seven-year-old?" "not at all. a grown man, sir. he, your countryman, is the real power behind our throne. on his deathbed, the prince's father placed his son in this american's charge and begged him to stand by him through thick and thin until the lad is able to take care of himself. as if there were not loyal men in graustark who might have done as much for their prince!" king looked interested. "i see. the people, no doubt, resent this espionage. is that it?" spantz gave him a withering look, as much as to say that he was a fool to ask such a question in a place so public. without replying, he got to his feet and made ready to leave the little garden. "i must return. i have been away too long. thank you, sir, for your kindness to an old man. good day, sir, and--" "hold on! i think i'll walk over with you and have another look at that broadsword. i'm--" "to-morrow, sir. it is past time to close the shop for to-day. come to-morrow. good day." he was crossing the sidewalk nimbly before king could offer a word of remonstrance. with a disappointed sigh, the american sank back in his chair, and watched his odd companion scurry across the square. suddenly he became conscious of a disquieting feeling that some one was looking at him intently from behind. he turned in his chair and found himself meeting the gaze of a ferocious looking, military appearing little man at a table near by. to his surprise, the little man's fierce stare maintained its peculiarly personal intentness until he, himself, was compelled to withdraw his own gaze in some little confusion and displeasure. his waiter appeared at his elbow with the change. "who the devil is that old man at the table there?" demanded young mr. king loudly. the waiter assumed a look of extreme insolence. "that is baron dangloss, minister of police. anything more, sir?" "yes. what's he looking so hard at me for? does he think i'm a pickpocket?" "you know as much as i, sir," was all that the waiter said in reply. king pocketed the coin he had intended for the fellow, and deliberately left the place. he could not put off the feeling, however, that the intense stare of baron dangloss, the watch-dog of the land, followed him until the corner of the wall intervened. the now incensed american glanced involuntarily across the square in the direction of spantz's shop. he saw three mounted soldiers ride up to the curb and hail the armourer as he started to close his doors. as he sauntered across the little square his gaze suddenly shifted to a second-story window above the gun-shop. the interesting young woman had cautiously pushed open one of the shutters and was peering down upon the trio of red-coated guardsmen. almost at the same instant her quick, eager gaze fell upon the tall american, now quite close to the horsemen. he saw her dark eyes expand as if with surprise. the next instant he caught his breath and almost stopped in his tracks. a shy, impulsive smile played about her red lips for a second, lighting up the delicate face with a radiance that amazed him. then the shutter was closed gently, quickly. his first feeling of elation was followed instantly by the disquieting impression that it was a mocking smile of amusement and not one of inviting friendliness. he felt his ears burn as he abruptly turned off to the right, for, somehow, he knew that she was peeping at him through the blinds and that something about his tall, rangy figure was appealing to her sense of the ridiculous. you will see at once that truxton king, imaginative chap that he was, had pounced upon this slim, attractive young woman as the only plausible heroine for his prospective romance, and, as such, she could not be guilty of forwardness or lack or dignity. besides, first impressions are always good ones: she had struck him at the outset as being a girl of rare delicacy and refinement. in the meantime, baron dangloss was watching him covertly from the edge of the café garden across the square. chapter ii a meeting of the cabinet at this time, the principality of graustark was in a most prosperous condition. its affairs were under the control of an able ministry, headed by the venerable count halfont. the duke of perse, for years a resident of st. petersburg, and a financier of high standing, had returned to edelweiss soon after the distressing death of the late princess yetive and her american husband, and to him was entrusted the treasury portfolio. he at once proceeded to endear himself to the common people by the advocacy of a lower rate of taxation; this meant the reduction of the standing army. he secured new and advantageous treaties with old and historic foes, putting graustark's financial credit upon a high footing in the european capitals. the people smugly regarded themselves as safe in the hands of the miserly but honest old financier. if he accomplished many things by way of office to enhance his own particular fortune, no one looked askance, for he made no effort to blind or deceive his people. of his honesty there could be no question; of his financial operations, it is enough to say that the people were satisfied to have their affairs linked with his. the financing of the great railroad project by which edelweiss was to be connected with the siberian line in the north, fell to his lot at a time when no one else could have saved the little government from heavy losses or even bankruptcy. the new line traversed the country from serros, capital of dawsbergen, through the mountains and canyons of graustark, across axphain's broad steppes and lowlands, to a point at which russia stood ready to begin a connecting branch for junction with her great line to the pacific. all told, it was a stupendous undertaking for a small government to finance; it is well known that graustark owns and controls her public utility institutions. the road, now about half completed, was to be nearly two hundred miles in length, fully two-thirds of which was on graustark territory. the preponderance of cost of construction fell upon that principality, dawsbergen and axphain escaping with comparatively small obligations owing to the fact that they had few mountains to contend with. as a matter of fact, the dawsbergen and axphain ends of the railroad were now virtually built and waiting for the completion of the extensive work in the graustark highlands. the opening of this narrative finds the ministry preparing to float a new five million gavvo issue of bonds for construction and equipment purposes. agents of the government were ready to depart for london and paris to take up the matter with the great banking houses. st. petersburg and berlin were not to be given the opportunity to gobble up these extremely fine securities. this seemingly extraordinary exclusion of russian and german bidders was the result of vigorous objections raised by an utter outsider, the american, john tullis, long time friend and companion of grenfall lorry, consort to the late princess. tullis was a strange man in many particulars. he was under forty years of age, but even at that rather immature time of life he had come to be recognised as a shrewd, successful financial power in his home city, new york. at the very zenith of his power he suddenly and with quixotic disregard for consequences gave up his own business and came to graustark for residence, following a promise made to grenfall lorry when the latter lay dying in a little inn near brussels. they had been lifelong friends. tullis jestingly called himself the little prince's "morganatic godfather." for two years he had been a constant resident of graustark, living contentedly, even indolently, in the picturesque old castle, his rooms just across the corridor from those occupied by the little prince. to this small but important bit of royalty he was "uncle jack"; in that capacity he was the most beloved and at the same time the most abused gentleman in all graustark. as many as ten times a week he was signally banished from the domain by the loving, headstrong little ruler, only to be recalled with grave dignity and a few tears when he went so far as to talk of packing his "duds" in obedience to the edict. john tullis, strong character though he was, found this lazy, _dolce far niente_ life much to his liking. he was devoted to the boy; he was interested in the life at this tiny court. the days of public and court mourning for the lamented princess and her husband wearing away after an established period, he found himself eagerly delving into the gaieties that followed. life at the castle and in the homes of the nobility provided a new and sharp contrast to the busy, sordid existence he had known at home. it was like a fine, wholesome, endless dream to him. he drifted on the joyous, smiling tide of pleasure that swept edelweiss with its careless waves night and day. clever, handsome, sincere in his attitude of loyalty toward these people of the topmost east, he was not long in becoming a popular idol. his wide-awake, resourceful brain, attuned by nature to the difficulties of administration, lent itself capably to the solving of many knotty financial puzzles; the ministry was never loth to call on him for advice and seldom disposed to disregard it. an outsider, he never offered a suggestion or plan unasked; to this single qualification he owed much of the popularity and esteem in which he was held by the classes and the masses. socially, he was a great favourite. he enjoyed the freedom of the most exclusive homes in edelweiss. he had enjoyed the distinction of more than one informal visit to old princess volga of axphain, just across the border, to say nothing of shooting expeditions with young prince dantan of dawsbergen, whose american wife, formerly miss calhoun of washington, was a friend of long standing. john tullis was, beyond question, the most conspicuous and the most admired man in edelweiss in these serene days of mentorship to the adored prince robin. there was but one man connected with the government to whom his popularity and his influence proved distasteful. that man was the duke of perse. on more than one occasion the cabinet had chosen to be guided by the sagacity of john tullis in preference to following the lines laid down by the astute minister of finance. the decision to offer the new bond issue in london and paris was due to the earnest, forceful argument of john tullis--outside the cabinet chamber, to be sure. this was but one instance in which the plan of the treasurer was overridden. he resented the plain though delicate influence of the former wall street man. tullis had made it plain to the ministry that graustark could not afford to place itself in debt to the russians, into whose hands, sooner or later, the destinies of the railroad might be expected to fall. the wise men of graustark saw his point without force of argument, and voted down, in the parliament, the duke's proposition to place the loan in st. petersburg and berlin. for this particular act of trespass upon the duke's official preserves he won the hatred of the worthy treasurer and his no inconsiderable following among the deputies. but john tullis was not in edelweiss for the purpose of meddling with state affairs. he was there because he elected to stand mentor to the son of his life-long friend, even though that son was a prince of the blood and controlled by the will of three regents chosen by his own subjects. he was there to watch over the doughty little chap, who one day would be ruler unrestrained, but who now was a boy to be loved and coddled and reprimanded in the general process of man-making. to say that the tiny prince loved his big, adoring mentor would be putting it too gently: he idolised him. tullis was father, mother and big brother to the little fellow in knickers. the american was a big, broad shouldered man, reddish haired and ruddy cheeked, with cool grey eyes; his sandy mustache was closely cropped and turned up ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. despite his colouring, his face was somewhat sombre--even stern--when in repose. it was his fine, enveloping smile that made friends for him wherever he listed, with men and with women. more frequently than otherwise it made more than friends of the latter. one woman in graustark was the source of never-ending and constantly increasing interest to this stalwart companion to the prince. that woman was, alas! the wife of another man. moreover, she was the daughter of the duke of perse. the young and witty countess of marlanx came often to edelweiss. she was a favourite at the castle, notwithstanding the unhealthy record of her ancient and discredited husband, the iron count. tullis had not seen the count, but he had heard such tales of him that he could not but pity this glorious young creature who called him husband. there is an old saying about the kinship of pity. not that john tullis was actually in love with the charming countess. he was, to be perfectly candid, very much interested in her and very much distressed by the fact that she was bound to a venerable reprobate who dared not put his foot on graustark soil because once he had defiled it atrociously. but of the countess and her visits to edelweiss, more anon--with the indulgence of the reader. at present we are permitted to attend a meeting of the cabinet, which sits occasionally in solemn collectiveness just off the throne room within the tapestried walls of a dark little antechamber, known to the outside world as the "room of wrangles." it is ten o'clock of the morning on which the prince is to review the troops from the fortress. the question under discussion relates to the loan of , , gavvos, before mentioned. at the head of the long table, perched upon an augmentary pile of law books surmounted by a little red cushion, sits the prince, almost lost in the hugh old walnut chair of his forefathers. down the table sit the ten ministers of the departments of state, all of them loving the handsome little fellow on the necessary pile of statutes, but all of them more or less indifferent to his significant yawns and perplexed frowns. the prince was a sturdy, curly-haired lad, with big brown eyes and a lamentably noticeable scratch on his nose--acquired in less stately but more profitable pursuits. (it seems that he had peeled his nose while sliding to second base in a certain american game that he was teaching the juvenile aristocracy how to play.) his wavy hair was brown and rebellious. no end of royal nursing could keep it looking sleek and proper. he had the merit of being a very bad little boy at times; that is why he was loved by every one. although it was considered next to high treason to strike a prince of the royal blood, i could, if i had the space, recount the details of numerous fisticuffs behind the state stables in which, sad to relate, the prince just as often as not came off with a battered dignity and a chastened opinion of certain small fry who could not have been more than dukes or barons at best. but he took his defeats manfully: he did not whimper _lesé majesté_. john tullis, his "uncle jack," had proclaimed his scorn for a boy who could not "take his medicine." and so prince robin took it gracefully because he was prince. to-day he was--for him--rather oppressively dignified and imperial. he may have blinked his weary eyes a time or two, but in the main he was very attentive, very circumspect and very much puzzled. custom required that the ruling prince or princess should preside over the meetings of the cabinet. it is needless to observe that the present ruler's duty ended when he repeated (after count halfont): "my lords, we are now in session." the school-room, he confessed, was a "picnic" compared to the "room of wrangles": a fellow got a recess once in a while there, but here--well, the only recess he got was when he fell asleep. to-day he was determined to maintain a very dignified mien. it appears that at the last meeting he had created considerable havoc by upsetting the ink well while trying to fill his fountain pen without an injector. moreover, nearly half a pint of the fluid had splashed upon the duke of perse's trousers--and they were grey, at that. whereupon the duke announced in open conclave that his highness needed a rattling good spanking--a remark which distinctly hurt the young ruler's pride and made him wish that there had been enough ink to drown the duke instead of merely wetting him. about the table sat the three regents and the other men high in the administration of affairs, among them general braze of the army, baron pultz of the mines, roslon of agriculture. the duke of perse was discussing the great loan question. the prince was watching his gaunt, saturnine face with more than usual interest. "of course, it is not too late to rescind the order promulgated at our last sitting. there are five bankers in st. petersburg who will finance the loan without delay. we need not delay the interminable length of time necessary to secure the attention and co-operation of bankers in france and england. it is all nonsense to say that russia has sinister motives in the matter. it is a business proposition--not an affair of state. we need the money before the winter opens. the railroad is now within fifteen miles of edelweiss. the bridges and tunnels are well along toward completion. our funds are diminishing, simply because we have delayed so long in preparing for this loan. there has been too much bickering and too much inane politics. i still maintain that we have made a mistake in refusing to take up the matter with st. petersburg or berlin. why should we prefer england? why france?" for some unaccountable reason he struck the table violently with his fist and directed his glare upon the astonished prince. the explosive demand caught the ruler by surprise. he gasped and his lips fell apart. then it must have occurred to him that the question could be answered by no one save the person to whom it was so plainly addressed. he lifted his chin and piped up shrilly, and with a fervour that startled even the intense perse: "because uncle jack said we should, that's why." we have no record of what immediately followed this abrupt declaration; there are some things that never leak out, no matter how prying the chronicler may be. when one stops to consider that this was the first time a question had been put directly to the prince--and one that he could understand, at that--we may be inclined to overlook his reply, but we cannot answer for certain members of the cabinet. unconsciously, the boy in knickers had uttered a truth that no one else had dared to voice. john tullis _was_ the joint stepping-stone and stumbling-block in the deliberations of the cabinet. it goes without saying that the innocent rejoinder opened the way to an acrid discussion of john tullis. if that gentleman's ears burned in response to the sarcastic comments of the duke of perse and baron pultz, they probably tingled pleasantly as the result of the stout defence put up by halfont, dangloss and others. moreover, his most devoted friend, the prince, whose lips were sullenly closed after his unlucky maiden effort, was finding it exceedingly difficult to hold his tongue and his tears at the same time. the lad's lip trembled but his brown eyes glowered; he sat abashed and heard the no uncertain arraignment of his dearest friend, feeling all the while that the manly thing for him to do would be to go over and kick the duke of perse, miserably conscious that such an act was impossible. his little body trembled with childish rage; he never took his gaze from the face of the gaunt traducer. how he hated the duke of perse! the duke's impassioned plea was of no avail. his _confrères_ saw the wisdom of keeping russia's greedy hand out of the country's affairs--at least for the present--and reiterated their decision to seek the loans in england and france. the question, therefore, would not be taken to parliament for reconsideration. the duke sat down, pale in defeat; his heart was more bitter than ever against the shrewd american who had induced all these men to see through his eyes. "i suppose there is no use in kicking against the pricks," he said sourly as he resumed his seat. "i shall send our representatives to london and paris next month. i trust, my lords, that we may have no trouble in placing the loans there." there was a deep significance the dry tone which he assumed. "i do not apprehend trouble," said count halfont. "our credit is still good, your grace. russia is not the only country that is ready to trust us for a few millions. have no fear, your grace." "it is the delay that i am apprehensive of, your excellency." at this juncture the prince, gathering from the manner of his ministers that the question was settled to his liking, leaned forward and announced to his uncle, the premier: "i'm tired, uncle caspar. how much longer is it?" count halfont coughed. "ahem! just a few minutes, your highness. pray be patient--er--my little man." prince bobby flushed. he always knew that he was being patronised when any one addressed him as "my little man." "i have an engagement," he said, with a stiffening of his back. "indeed?" said the duke dryly. "yes, your grace--a very important one. of course, i'll stay if i have to, but--what time is it, uncle caspar?" "it is half past eleven, your highness." "goodness, i had a date for eleven. i mean a engagement--an engagement." he glanced helplessly, appealingly from count halfont to baron dangloss, his known allies. the duke of perse smiled grimly. in his most polite manner he arose to address the now harassed princeling, who shifted uneasily on the pile of law books. "may your most humble subject presume to inquire into the nature of your highness's engagement?" "you may, your grace," said the prince. the duke waited. a smile crept into the eyes of the others. "well, what is the engagement?" "i had a date to ride with uncle jack at eleven." "and you imagine that 'uncle jack' will be annoyed if he is kept waiting by such a trivial matter as a cabinet meeting, unfortunately prolonged?" "i don't know just what that means," murmured the prince. then his face brightened. "but i don't think he'll be sore after i tell him how busy we've been." the duke put his hand over his mouth. "i don't think he'll mind half an hour's wait, do you?" "he likes me to be very prompt." count halfont interposed, good-humouredly. "there is nothing more to come before us to-day, your grace, so i fancy we may as well close the meeting. to my mind, it is rather a silly custom which compels us to keep the prince with us--er--after the opening of the session. of course, your highness, we don't mean to say that you are not interested in our grave deliberations." prince bobby broke in eagerly: "uncle jack says i've just _got_ to be interested in 'em, whether i want to or not. he says it's the only way to catch onto things and become a regular prince. you see, uncle caspar, i've got a lot to learn." "yes, your highness, you have," solemnly admitted the premier. "but i am sure you _will_ learn." "under such an able instructor as uncle jack you may soon know more than the wisest man in the realm," added the duke of perse. "thank you, your grace," said the prince, so politely that the duke was confounded; "i know uncle jack will be glad to hear that. he's--he's afraid people may think he's butting in too much." "butting in?" gasped the premier. at this the duke of perse came to his feet again, an angry gleam in his eyes. "my lords," he began hastily, "it must certainly have occurred to you before this that our beloved prince's english, which seems after all to be his mother tongue, is not what it should be. butting in! yesterday i overheard him advising your son, pultz, to 'go chase' himself. and when your boy tried to chase himself--'pon my word, he did--what did our prince say? what _did_ you say, prince robin?" "i--i forget," stammered prince bobby. "you said 'mice!' or was it--er--" "no, your grace. rats. i remember. that's what i said. that's what all of us boys used to say in washington." "god deliver us! has it come to this, that a prince of graustark should grow up with such language on his lips? i fancy, my lords, you will all agree that something should be done about it. it is too serious a matter. we are all more or less responsible to the people he is to govern. we cannot, in justice to them, allow him to continue under the--er--influences that now seem to surround him. he'll--he'll grow up to be a barbarian. for heaven's sake, my lords, let us consider the prince's future--let us deal promptly with the situation." "what's he saying, uncle caspar?" whispered the prince fiercely. "sh!" cautioned count halfont. "i won't sh! i am the prince. and i'll say 'chase yourself' whenever i please. it's good english. i'll pronounce it for you in our own language, so's you can see how it works that way. it goes like--" "you need not illustrate, your highness," the premier hastened to say. turning to the duke, he said coldly: "i acknowledge the wisdom in your remarks, your grace, but--you will pardon me, i am sure--would it not be better to discuss the conditions privately among ourselves before taking them up officially?" "that confounded american has every one hypnotised," exploded the duke. "his influence over this boy is a menace to our country. he is making on oaf of him--a slangy, impudent little--" "your grace!" interrupted baron dangloss sharply. "uncle jack's all right," declared the prince, vaguely realising that a defence should be forthcoming. "he is, eh?" rasped the exasperated duke, mopping his brow. "he sure is," pronounced the prince with a finality that left no room for doubt. they say that fierce little baron dangloss, in striving to suppress a guffaw, choked so impressively that there was a momentary doubt as to his ever getting over it alive. "he is a mountebank--a meddler, that's what he is. the sooner we come to realise it, the better," exclaimed the over-heated duke. "he has greater influence over our beloved prince than any one else in the royal household. he has no business here--none whatsoever. his presence and his meddling is an affront to the intelligence of--" but the prince had slid down from his pile of books and planted himself beside him so suddenly that the bitter words died away on the old man's lips. robin's face was white with rage, his little fists were clenched in desperate anger, his voice was half choked with the tears of indignation. "you awful old man!" he cried, trembling all over, his eyes blazing. "don't you say anything against uncle jack. i'll--i'll banish you--yes, sir--banish you like my mother fired count marlanx out of the country. i won't let you come back here ever--never. and before you go i'll have uncle jack give you a good licking. oh, he can do it all right. i--i hate you!" the duke looked down in amazement into the flushed, writhing face of his little master. for a moment he was stunned by the vigorous outburst. then the hard lines in his face relaxed and a softer expression came into his eyes--there was something like pride in them, too. the duke, be it said, was an honest fighter and a loyal graustarkian; he loved his prince and, therefore, he gloried in his courage. his own smile of amusement, which broke in spite of his inordinate vanity, was the sign that brought relief to the hearts of his scandalised _confrères_. "your highness does well in defending a friend and counsellor," he said gently. "i am sorry to have forgotten myself in your presence. it shall not occur again. pray forgive me." prince bobby was still unappeased. "i _could_ have you beheaded," he said stubbornly. "couldn't i, uncle caspar?" count halfont gravely informed him that it was not customary to behead gentlemen except for the most heinous offences against the crown. the duke of perse suddenly bent forward and placed his bony hand upon the unshrinking shoulder of the prince, his eyes gleaming kindly, his voice strangely free from its usual harshness. "you are a splendid little man, prince robin," he said. "i glory in you. i shall not forget the lesson in loyalty that you have taught me." bobby's eyes filled with tears. the genuine humility of the hard old man touched his tempestuous little heart. "it's--it's all right, du--your grace. i'm sorry i spoke that way, too." baron dangloss twisted his imperial vigorously. "my lords, i suggest that we adjourn. the prince must have his ride and return in time for the review at one o'clock." as the prince strode soberly from the room of wrangles, every eye was upon his sturdy little back and there was a kindly light in each of them, bar none. the duke, following close behind with halfont, said quietly: "i love him, caspar. but i have no love for the man he loves so much better than he loves any of us. tullis is a meddler--but, for heaven's sake, my friend, don't let; bobby know that i have repeated myself." later on, the prince in his khaki riding suit loped gaily down the broad mountain road toward ganlook, beside the black mare which carried john tullis. behind them rode three picked troopers from the house guard. he had told tullis of his vainglorious defence in the antechamber. "and i told him, uncle jack, that you could lick him. you can, can't you?" the american's face was clouded for a second; then, to please the boy, a warm smile succeeded the frown. "why, bobby, you dear little beggar, he could thresh me with one hand." "what?" almost shrieked prince bobby, utterly dismayed. "he's a better swordsman than i, don't you see. gentlemen over here fight with swords. i know nothing about duelling. he'd get at me in two thrusts." "i--i think you'd better take some lessons from colonel quinnox. it won't do to be caught napping." "i daresay you're right." "say, uncle jack, when are you going to take me to the witch's hovel?" the new thought abruptly banished all else from his eager little brain. "some day, soon," said tullis. "you see, i'm not sure that she's receiving visitors these days. a witch is a very arbitrary person. even princes have to send up their cards." "let's telegraph her," in an inspired tone. "i'll arrange to go up with you very soon, bobby. it's a hard ride through the pass and--and there may be a lot of goblins up there where the old woman keeps herself." the witch's hovel was in the mountain across the most rugged of the canyons, and was to be reached only after the most hazardous of rides. the old woman of the hills was an ancient character about whom clung a thousand spookish traditions, but who, in the opinion of john tuilis, was nothing more than a wise fortune-teller and necromancer who knew every trick in the trade of hoodwinking the superstitious. he had seen her and he had been properly impressed. somehow, he did not like the thought of taking the prince to the cabin among the mists and crags. "they say she eats boys, now and then," he added, as if suddenly remembering it. "gee! do you suppose we could get there some day when she's eating one?" as they rode back to the castle after an hour, coming down through castle avenue from the monastery road, they passed a tall, bronzed young man whom tullis at once knew to be an american. he was seated on a big boulder at the roadside, enjoying the shade, and was evidently on his way by foot to the castle gates to watch the _beau monde_ assembling for the review. at his side was the fussy, well-known figure of cook's interpreter, eagerly pointing out certain important personages to bun as they passed. of course, the approach of the prince was the excuse for considerable agitation and fervour on the part of the man from cook's. he mounted the boulder and took off his cap to wave it frantically. "it's the prince!" he called out to truxton king. "stand up! hurray! long live the prince!" tullis had already lifted his hand in salute to his countryman, and both had smiled the free, easy smile of men who know each other by instinct. the man from cook's came to grief. he slipped from his perch on the rock and came floundering to the ground below, considerably crushed in dignity, but quite intact in other respects. the spirited pony that the prince was riding shied and reared in quick affright. the boy dropped his crop and clung valiantly to the reins. a guardsman was at the pony's head in an instant, and there was no possible chance for disaster. truxton king unbent his long frame, picked up the riding crop with a deliberateness that astonished the man from cook's, strode out into the roadway and handed it up to the boy in the saddle. "thank you," said prince bobby. "don't mention it," said truxton king with his most engaging smile. "no trouble at all." chapter iii many persons in review truxton king witnessed the review of the garrison. that in itself was rather a tame exhibition for a man who had seen the finest troops in all the world. a thousand earnest looking soldiers, proud of the opportunity to march before the little prince--and that was all, so far as the review was concerned. but, alluringly provident to the welfare of this narrative, the red and black uniformed soldiers were not the only persons on review that balmy day in july. truxton king had his first glimpse of the nobility of graustark. he changed his mind about going to vienna on the saturday express. a goodly number of men before him had altered their humble plans for the same reason, i am reliably informed. mr. king saw the court in all its glory, scattered along the shady castle avenue--in carriages, in traps, in motors and in the saddle. his brain whirled and his heart leaped under the pressure of a new-found interest in life. the unexpected oasis loomed up before his eyes just as he was abandoning all hope in the unprofitable desert of romance. he saw green trees and sparkling rivulets, and he sighed with a new, strange content. no, on second thoughts, he would not go to vienna. he would stay in edelweiss. he was a disciple of micawber; and he was so much younger and fresher than that distinguished gentleman, that perhaps he was justified in believing that, in his case, something was bound to "turn up." if truxton king had given up in disgust and fled to vienna, this tale would never have come to light. instead of being the lively narrative of a young gentleman's adventures in far-away graustark, it might have become a tale of the smart set in new york--for, as you know, we are bound by tradition to follow the trail laid down by our hero, no matter which way he elects to fare. somewhat dismayed by his narrow escape, he confided to his friend from cook's that he could never have forgiven himself if he had adhered to his resolution to leave on the following day. "i didn't know you'd changed your mind, sir," remarked mr. hobbs in surprise. "of course you didn't know it," said truxton. "how could you? i've just changed it, this instant. i didn't know it myself two minutes ago. no, sir, hobbs--or is it dobbs? thanks--no, sir, i'm going to stop here for a--well, a week or two. where the dickens do these people keep themselves? i haven't seen 'em before." "oh, they are the nobility--the swells. they don't hang around the streets like tourists and rubbernecks, sir," in plain disgust. "i thought you were an englishman," observed king, with a quizzical smile. "i am, sir. i can't help saying rubbernecks, sir, though it's a shocking word. it's the only name for them, sir. that's what the little prince calls them, too. you see, it's one form of amusement they provide for him, and i am supposed to help it along as much as possible. mr. tullis takes him out in the avenue whenever i've got a party in hand. i telephone up to the castle that i've got a crowd and then i drive 'em out to the park here. the prince says he just loves to watch the rubbernecks go by. it's great fun, sir, for the little lad. he never misses a party, and you can believe it or not, he has told me so himself. yes, sir, the prince has had more than one word with me--from time to time." king looked at the little man's reddish face and saw therein the signs of exaltation indigenous to a land imperial. he hesitated for an instant and then remarked, with a mean impulse to spoil hobbs's glorification: "i have dined with the president of the united states." hobbs was politely unimpressed. "i've no doubt, sir," he said. "i daresay it was an excellent dinner." king blinked his eyes and then turned them upon the passing show. he was coming to understand the real difference between men. "i say, who is that just passing--the lady in the victoria?" he asked abruptly. "that is the countess marlanx." "whew! i thought she was the queen!" hobbs went into details concerning the beautiful countess. during the hour and a half of display he pointed out to king all of the great personages, giving a baedeker-like account of their doings from childhood up, quite satisfying that gentleman's curiosity and involving his cupidity at the same time. when, at last, the show was over, truxton and the voluble little interpreter, whom he had employed for the occasion, strolled leisurely back to the heart of the town. something had come over king, changing the quaint old city from a prosaic collection of shops and thoroughfares into a veritable playground for cinderellas and prince charmings. the women, to his startled imagination, had been suddenly transformed from lackadaisical drudges into radiant personages at whose feet it would be a pleasure to fall, in whose defence it would be divine to serve; the men were the cavaliers that had called to him from the pages of chivalrous tales, ever since the days of his childhood. here were knights and ladies such as he had dreamed of and despaired of ever seeing outside his dreams. hobbs was telling him how every one struggled to provide amusement for the little prince at whose court these almost mythological beings bent the knee. "every few days they have a royal troupe of acrobats in the castle grounds. next week tantora's big circus is to give a private performance for him. there are marionettes and punch and judy shows, and all the doings of the grand grignol are beautifully imitated. the royal band plays every afternoon, and at night some one tells him stories of the valorous men who occupied the throne before him. he rides, plays baseball and cricket, swims, goes shooting--and, you may take it from me, sir, he is already enjoying fencing lessons with colonel quinnox, chief of the castle guard. mr. tullis, the american, has charge of his--you might say, his education and entertainment. they want to make of him a very wonderful prince. so they are starting at the bottom. he's quite a wonderful little chap. what say, sir?" "i was just going to ask if you know anything about a young woman who occasionally tends shop for william spantz, the armourer." hobbs looked interested. "she's quite a beauty, sir, i give you my word." "i know that, hobbs. but who is she?" "i really can't say, sir. she's his niece, i've heard. been here a little over a month. i think she's from warsaw." "well, i'll say good-bye here. if you've nothing on for to-morrow we'll visit the castle grounds and--ahem!--take a look about the place. come to the hotel early. i'm going over to the gun-shop. so long!" as he crossed the square, his mind full of the beautiful women he had seen, he was saying to himself in a wild strain of exhilaration: "i'll bet my head that girl isn't the nobody she's setting herself up to be. she looks like these i've just seen. she's got the marks of a lady. you can't fool me. i'm going to find out who she is and--well, maybe it won't be so dull here, after all. it looks better every minute." he was whistling gaily as he entered the little shop, ready to give a cheery greeting to old spantz and to make him a temporising offer for the broadsword. but it was not spantz who stood behind the little counter. truxton flushed hotly and jerked off his hat. the girl smiled. "i beg pardon," he exclaimed. "i--i'm looking for mr. spantz--i--" "he is out. will you wait? he will return in a very few minutes." her voice was clear and low, her accent charming. the smile in her eyes somehow struck him as sad, even fleeting in its attempt at mirth. as she spoke, it disappeared altogether and an almost sombre expression came into her face. "thanks. i'll--wait," he said, suddenly embarrassed. she turned to the window, resuming the wistful, preoccupied gaze down the avenue. he made pretence of inspecting the wares on the opposite wall, but covertly watched her out of the corner of his eye. perhaps, calculated he, if she were attired in the gown of one of those fashionables she might rank with the noblest of them in beauty and delicacy. her dark little head was carried with all the serene pride of a lady of quality; her features were clear cut, mobile, and absolutely flawless. he was sure of that: his sly analysis was not as casual as one might suppose under the circumstances. as a matter of fact, he found himself having what he afterward called "a very good look at her." she seemed to have forgotten his presence. the longer he looked at the delicate profile, the more fully was he convinced that she was not all that she pretended. he experienced a thrill of hope. if she wasn't what she pretended to be, then surely she must be what he wanted her to be--a lady of quality. in that case there was a mystery. the thought restored his temerity. "beg pardon," he said, politely sauntering up to the little counter. he noted that she was taller than he had thought, and slender. she started and turned toward him with a quick, diffident smile, her dark eyes filling with an unspoken apology. "i wanted to have another look at the broadsword there. may i get it out of the window, or will you?" very quickly--he noticed that she went about it clumsily despite her supple gracefulness--she withdrew the heavy weapon from the window and laid it upon the counter. he was looking at her with a peculiar smile upon his lips. she flushed painfully. "i am not--not what you would call an expert," she said frankly. "you mean in handling broadswords," he said in his most suave manner. "it's a cunning little thing, isn't it?" he picked up the ponderous blade. "i don't wonder you nearly dropped it on your toes." "there must have been giants in those days," she said, a slight shudder passing over her. "whoppers," he agreed eagerly. "i've thought somewhat of buying the old thing. not to use, of course. i'm not a giant." "you're not a pigmy," she supplemented, her eyes sweeping his long figure comprehensively. "what's the price?" he asked, his courage faltering under the cool, impersonal gaze. "i do not know. my uncle has told you?" "i--i think he did. but i've got a wretched memory when it comes to broadswords." she laughed. "this is such a very old broadsword, too," she said. "it goes back beyond the memory of man." "how does it come that you don't know the price?" he asked, watching her narrowly. she met his inquiring look with perfect composure. "i am quite new at the trade. i hope you will excuse my ignorance. my uncle will be here in a moment." she was turning away with an air that convinced king of one thing: she was a person who, in no sense, had ever been called upon to serve others. "so i've heard," he observed. the bait took effect. she looked up quickly; he was confident that a startled expression flitted across her face. "you have heard? what have you heard of me?" she demanded. "that you are new at the business," he replied coolly. "you are a stranger in a strange land, so they say." "you have been making inquiries?" she asked, disdain succeeding dismay. "tentatively, that's all. ever since you peeked out of the window up there and laughed at me. i'm curious, you see." she stared at him in silent intensity for a moment. "that's why i laughed at you. you were _very_ curious." "am i so bad as all that?" he lamented. she ignored the question. "why should you be interested in me, sir?" mr. king was inspired to fabricate in the interest of psychical research. "because i have heard that you are not the niece of old man spantz." he watched intently to catch the effect of the declaration. she merely stared at him; there was not so much as the flutter of an eyelid. "you have heard nothing of the kind," she said coldly. "well, i'll confess i haven't," he admitted cheerfully. "i was experimenting. i'm an amateur sherlock holmes. it pleases me to deduce that you are not related to the armourer. you don't look the part." now she smiled divinely. "and why not, pray? his sister was my mother." "in order to establish a line on which to base my calculations, would you mind telling me who your father is?" he asked the question with his most appealing smile--a smile so frankly impudent that she could not resent it. "my mother's husband," she replied in the same spirit. "well, that is _quite_ a clue!" he exclaimed. "'pon my soul, i believe i'm on the right track. excuse me for continuing, but is he a count or a duke or just a--" "my father is dead," she interrupted, without taking her now serious gaze from his face. "i beg your pardon," he said at once. "i'm sorry if i've hurt you." "my mother is dead. now can you understand why i am living here with my uncle? even an amateur may rise to that. now, sir, do you expect to purchase the sword? if not, i shall replace it in the window." "that's what i came here for," said he, resenting her tone and the icy look she gave him. "i gathered that you came in the capacity of sherlock holmes--or something else." she added the last three words with unmistakable meaning. "you mean as a--" he hesitated, flushing. "you knew i was alone, sir." "by jove, you're wrong there. i give you my word, i didn't. if i'd known it, i'd surely have come in sooner. there, forgive me. i'm particularly light-headed and futile to-day, and i hope--beg pardon?" she was leaning toward him, her hands on the counter, a peculiar gleam in her dark eyes--which now, for the first time, struck him as rather more keen and penetrating than he had suspected before. "i simply want to tell you, mr. king, that unless you really expect to buy this sword it is not wise in you to make it an excuse for coming here." "my dear young lady, i--" "my uncle has a queer conception of the proprieties. he may think that you come to see me." a radiant smile leaped into her face, transforming its strange sombreness into absolutely impish mirth. "well, hang it all, he can't object to that, can he? besides, i never buy without haggling," he expostulated, suddenly exhilarated, he knew not why. "don't come in here unless you expect to buy," she said, serious in an instant. "it isn't the custom in edelweiss. young men may chat with shopgirls all the world over--but in edelweiss, no--unless they come to pay most honourable court to them. my uncle would not understand." "i take it, however, that you would understand," he said boldly. "i have lived in vienna, in paris and in london. but now i am living in edelweiss. i have not been a shopgirl always." "i can believe that. my deductions are justified." "pray forgive me for offering this bit of advice. a word to the wise. my uncle would close the door in your face if--if he thought--" "i see. well, i'll buy the blooming sword. anyhow, that's what i came in for." "no. you came in because i smiled at you from the window upstairs. it is my sitting-room." "why did you smile? tell me?" eagerly. "it was nature asserting itself." "you mean you just couldn't help it?" "that's precisely what i mean." "not very complimentary, i'd say." "a smile is ever a compliment, sir." "i say, do you know you interest me?" he began warmly, but she put her finger to her lips. "my uncle is returning. i must not talk to you any longer." she glanced uneasily out upon the square, and then hurriedly added, a certain wistfulness in her voice and eyes. "i couldn't help it to-day. i forgot my place. but you are the first gentleman i've spoken to since i came here." "i--i was afraid you might think i am not a gentleman. i've been rather fresh." "i happen to have known many gentlemen. before i went into--service, of course." she turned away abruptly, a sudden shadow crossing her face. truxton king exulted. at last he was touching the long-sought trail of the golden girl! here was romance! here was mystery! spantz was crossing the sidewalk. the american leaned forward and half-whispered: "just watch me buy that broadsword. i may, in time, buy out the shop, piece by piece." she smiled swiftly. "let me warn you: don't pay his price." "thanks." when spantz entered the door, a moment later, the girl was gazing listlessly from the window and truxton king was leaning against the counter with his back toward her, his arms folded and a most impatient frown on his face. "hello!" he said gruffly. "i've been waiting ten minutes for you." spantz's black eyes shot from one to the other. "what do you want?" he demanded sharply. as he dropped his hat upon a stool near, the door, his glance again darted from the man to the girl and back again. "the broadsword. and, say, mr. spantz, you might assume a different tone in addressing me. i'm a customer, not a beggar." the girl left the window and walked slowly to the rear of the shop, passing through the narrow door, without so much as a glance at king or the old man. spantz was silent until she was gone. "you want the broadsword, eh?" he asked, moderating his tone considerably. "it's a rare old--" "i'll give you a hundred dollars-not another cent," interrupted king, riot yet over his resentment. there followed a long and irritating argument, at the conclusion of which mr. king became the possessor of the weapon at his own price. remembering himself in time, he fell to admiring some old rings and bracelets in a cabinet near by, thus paving the way for future visits. "i'll come in again," he said indifferently. "but you are leaving to-morrow, sir." "i've changed my mind." "you are not going?" "not for a few days." "then you have discovered something in edelweiss to attract you?" grinned the old armourer. "i thought you might." "i've had a glimpse of the swells, my good friend." "it's all the good you'll get of it," said spantz gruffly. "i daresay you're right. clean that sword up a bit for me, and i'll drop in to-morrow and get it. here's sixty gavvos to bind the bargain. the rest on delivery. good day, mr. spantz." "good day, mr. king." "how do you happen to know my name?" spantz put his hand over his heart and delivered himself of a most impressive bow. "when so distinguished a visitor comes to our little city," he said, "we lose no time in discovering his name. it is a part of our trade, sir, believe me." "i'm not so sure that i do believe you," said truxton king to himself as he sauntered up the street toward the hotel. "the girl knew me, too, now that i come to think of it. heigho! by jove, i _do_ hope i can work up a little something to interest--hello!" mr. hobbs, from cook's, was at his elbow, his eyes glistening with eagerness. "i say, old dangloss is waiting for you at the regengetz, sir. wot's up? wot you been up to, sir?" "up to? up to, hobbs?" "my word, sir, you must have been or he wouldn't be there to see you." "who is dangloss?" "minister of police--haven't i told you? he's a keen one, too, take my word for it. he's got sherlock beat a mile." "so have i, hobbs. i'm not slow at sherlocking, let me tell you that. how do you know he's waiting to see me?" "i heard him ask for you. and i was there just now when one of his men came in and told him you were on your way up from the gunshop down there." "so they're watching me, eh? 'gad, this is fine!" he lost no time in getting to the hotel. a well-remembered, fierce-looking little man in a white linen suit was waiting for him on the great piazza. baron jasto dangloss was a polite man but not to the point of procrastination. he advanced to meet the puzzled american, smiling amiably and twirling his imposing mustachios with neatly gloved fingers. "i have called, mr. king, to have a little chat with you about your father," he said abruptly. he enjoyed the look of surprise on the young man's face. "my father?" murmured truxton, catching his breath. he was shaking hands with the baron, all the while staring blankly into his twinkling, snapping eyes. "won't you join me at this table? a julep will not be bad, eh?" king sat down opposite to him at one of the piazza tables, in the shade of the great trailing vines. "fine," was his only comment. a waiter took the order and departed. the baron produced his cigarette case. king carefully selected one and tapped its tip on the back of his hand. "is--has anything happened to my father?" he asked quietly. "bad news?" "on the contrary, sir, he is quite well. i had a cablegram from him to-day." "a cablegram?" "yes. i cabled day before yesterday to ask if he could tell me the whereabouts of his son." "the deuce you say!" "he replies that you are in teheran." "what is the meaning of this, baron?" "it is a habit i have. i make it a practice to keep in touch with the movements of our guests." "i see. you want to know all about me; why i'm here, where i came from, and all that. well, i'm ready for the 'sweat box.'" "pray do not take offence. it is my rule. it would not be altered if the king of england came. ah, here are the juleps. quick service, eh?" "remarkably so, due to your powers of persuasion, i fancy." "i really ordered them a few minutes before you arrived. you see, i was quite certain you'd have one. you take one about this hour every day." "by jove, you have been watching me!" cried truxton delightedly. "what are you doing in edelweiss, mr. king?" asked the baron abruptly but not peremptorily. "sight-seeing and in search of adventure," was the prompt response. "i fancied as much. you've seen quite a bit of the world since you left home two years ago, on the twenty-seventh of september." "by jove!" "been to south africa, asia and--south america--to say nothing of europe. that must have been an exciting little episode in south america." "you don't mean to say--" "oh, i know all about your participation in the revolution down there. you were a captain, i understand, during the three weeks of disturbance. splendid! for the fun of the thing, i suppose. well, i like it in you. i should have done it myself. and you got out of the country just in time, if i remember rightly. there was a price placed on your head by the distressed government. i imagine they would have shot you if they could have caught you--as they did the others." the old man chuckled. "you don't expect to return to south america, do you? the price is still offered, you know." king was glaring at him in sheer wonder. here was an episode in his life that he fondly hoped might never come to light; he knew how it would disturb his mother. and this foxy old fellow away off here in graustark knew all about it. "well, you're a wonder!" in pure admiration. "an appreciated compliment, i assure you. this is all in the way of letting you know that we have found out something concerning your movements. now, to come down to the present. you expected to leave to-morrow. why are you staying over?" "baron, i leave that to your own distinguished powers of deduction," said truxton gently. he took a long pull at the straw, watching the other's face as he did so. the baron smiled. "you have found the young lady to be very attractive," observed the baron. "where have you known her before?" "i beg pardon?" "it is not unusual for a young man in search of adventure to follow the lady of his choice from place to place. she came but recently, i recall." "you think i knew her before and followed her to edelweiss?" "i am not quite sure whether you have been in warsaw lately. there is a gap in your movements that i can't account for." king became serious at once. he saw that it was best to be frank with this keen old man. "baron dangloss, i don't know just what you are driving at, but i'll set you straight so far as i'm concerned. i never saw that girl until the day before yesterday. i never spoke to her until to-day." "she smiled on you quite familiarly from her window casement _yesterday_," said dangloss coolly. "she laughed at me, to be perfectly candid. but what's all this about? who is she? what's the game? i don't mind confessing that i have a feeling she is not what she claims to be, but that's as far as i've got." dangloss studied the young man's face for a moment and then came to a sudden decision. he leaned forward and smiled sourly. "take my advice: do not play with fire," he said enigmatically. "you--you mean she's a dangerous person? i can't believe that, baron." "she has dangerous friends out in the world. i don't mean to say she will cause you any trouble here--but there is a hereafter. mind you, i'm not saying she isn't a good girl, or even an adventuress. on the contrary, she comes of an excellent family--in fact, there were noblemen among them a generation or two ago. you know her name?" "no. i say, this is getting interesting!" he was beaming. "she is olga platanova. her mother was married in this city twenty-five years ago to professor platanova of warsaw. the professor was executed last year for conspiracy. he was one of the leaders of a great revolutionary movement in poland. they were virtually anarchists, as you have come to place them in america. this girl, olga, was his secretary. his death almost killed her. but that is not all. she had a sweetheart up to fifteen months ago. he was a prince of the royal blood. he would have married her in spite of the difference in their stations had it not been for the intervention of the crown that she and her kind hate so well. the young man's powerful relatives took a hand in the affair. he was compelled to marry a scrawny little duchess, and olga was warned that if she attempted to entice him away from his wife she would be punished. she did not attempt it, because she is a virtuous girl--of that i am sure. but she hates them all--oh, how she hates them! her uncle, spantz, offered her a home. she came here a month ago, broken-spirited and sick. so far, she has been exceedingly respectful to our laws. it is not that we fear anything from her; but that we are obliged to watch her for the benefit of our big brothers across the border. now you know why i advised you to let the fire alone." king was silent for a moment, turning something over in his head. "baron, are you sure that she is a red?" "quite. she attended their councils." "she doesn't look it, 'pon my word. i thought they were the scum of the earth." "the kind you have in america are. but over here--oh, well, we never can tell." "i don't mind saying she interests me. she's pretty--and i have an idea she's clever. baron, let me understand you. do you mean that this is a polite way of commanding me to have nothing to do with her?" "you put it broadly. in the first place, i am quite sure she will have nothing to do with you. she loved the husband of the scrawny duchess. _you_, my good friend, handsome as you are, cannot interest her, believe me." "i daresay you're right," glumly. "i am merely warning you. young men of your age and temperament sometimes let their fancies lead them into desperate predicaments. i've no doubt you can take care of yourself, but--" he paused, as if very much in doubt. "i'm much obliged. and i'll keep my eyes well opened. i suppose there's no harm in my going to the shop to look at a lot of rings and knick-knacks he has for sale?" "not in the least. confine yourself to knick-knacks, that's all." "isn't spantz above suspicion?" "no one is in my little world. by the way, i am very fond of your father. he is a most excellent gentleman and a splendid shot." truxton stared harder than ever. "what's that?" "i know him quite well. hunted wild boars with him five years ago in germany. and your sister! she was a beautiful young girl. they were at carlsbad at the time. was she quite well when you last heard?" "she was," was all that the wondering brother could say. "well, come in and see me at the tower. i am there in the mornings. come as a caller, not as a prisoner, that's all." the baron cackled at his little jest. "_au revoir!_ till we meet again." they were shaking hands in the friendliest manner. "oh, by the way, you were good enough to change your mind to-day about the personal attractiveness of our ladies. permit me to observe, in return, that not a few of our most distinguished beauties were good enough to make inquiries as to your identity." he left the american standing at the head of the steps, gazing after his retreating figure with a look of admiration in his eyes. truxton fared forth into the streets that night with a greater zest in life than he had ever known before. some thing whispered insistently to his fancy that dreariness was a thing of the past; he did not have to whistle to keep up his spirits. they were soaring of their own accord. he did not know, however, that a person from the secret service was watching his every movement. nor, on the other hand, is it at all likely that the secret service operative was aware that he was not the only shadower of the blithe young stranger. a man with a limp cigarette between his lips was never far from the side of the american--a man who had stopped to pass the time of day with william spantz, and who, from that hour was not to let the young man out of his sight until another relieved him of the task. chapter iv truxton trespasses he went to bed that night, tired and happy. to his revived spirits and his new attitude toward life in its present state, the city had suddenly turned gay and vivacious. twice during the evening he passed spantz's shop. it was dark, upstairs and down. he wondered if the unhappy olga was looking at him from behind the darkened shutters. but even if she were not--la, la! he was having a good time! he was gay! he was seeing pretty women in the cafés and the gardens! well, well, he would see her to-morrow--after that he would give proper heed to the baron's warning! an anarchist's daughter! he slept well, too, with never a thought of the saturday express which he had lain awake on other nights to lament and anathematise. bright and early in the morning he was astir. somehow he felt he had been sleeping too much of late. there was a sparkle in his eyes as he struck out across town after breakfast. he burst in upon mr. hobbs at cook's. "say, hobbs, how about the castle to-day--in an hour, say? can you take a party of one rubbernecking this a.m.? i like you, hobbs. you are the best interpreter of english i've ever seen. i can't help understanding you, no matter how hard i try not to. i want you to get me into the castle grounds to-day and show me where the duchesses dawdle and the countesses cavort. i'm ashamed to say it, hobbs, but since yesterday i've quite lost interest in the middle classes and the component parts thereof. i have suddenly acquired a thirst for champagne--in other words, i have a hankering for the nobility. catch the idea? good! then you'll guide me into the land of the fairies? at ten?" "i'll take you to the castle grounds, mr. king, all right enough, sir, and i'll tell you all the things of interest, but i'll be 'anged, sir, if i've got the blooming nerve to introduce you to the first ladies of the land. that's more than i can ever 'ope to do, sir, and--" "lord bless you, hobbs, don't look so depressed. i don't ask you to present me at court. i just want to look at the lilacs and the gargoyles. that's as far as i expect to carry my invasion of the dream world." "of course, sir, you understand there are certain parts of the park not open to the public. the grotto and the playgrounds and the basin of venus--" "i'll not trespass, so don't fidget, hobbs. i'll be here for you at ten." mr. hobbs looked after the vigorous, happy figure as it swung down the street, and shook his head mournfully. turning to the solitary clerk who dawdled behind the cashier's desk he remarked with more feeling than was his wont: "he's just the kind of chap to get me into no end of trouble if i give 'im rope enough. take it from me, stokes, i'll have my hands full of 'im up there this morning. he's charged like a soda bottle; and you never know wot's going to happen unless you handle a soda bottle very careful-like." truxton hurried to the square and across it to the shop of the armourer, not forgetting, however, to look about in some anxiety for the excellent dangloss, who might, for all he knew, be snooping in the neighbourhood. spantz was at the rear of the shop, talking to a customer. the girl was behind the counter, dressed for the street. she came quickly out to him, a disturbed expression in her face. as he doffed his hat, the smile left his lips; he saw that she had been weeping. "you must not come here, mr. king," she said hurriedly, in low tones. "take your broadsword this morning and--please, for my sake, do not come again. i--i may not explain why i am asking you to do this, but i mean it for your good, more than for my own. my uncle will be out in a moment. he knows you are here. he is listening now to catch what i am saying to you. smile, please, or he will suspect--" "see here," demanded king, smiling, but very much in earnest, "what's up? you've been crying. what's he been doing or saying to you? i'll give him a--" "no, no! be sensible! it is nothing in which you could possibly take a hand. i don't know you, mr. king, but i am in earnest when i say that it is not safe for you to come here, ostensibly to buy. it is too easily seen through--it is--" "just a minute, please," he interrupted. "i've heard your story from baron dangloss. it has appealed to me. you are not happy. are you in trouble? do you need friends, miss platanova?" "it is because you would be a friend that i ask you to stay away. you cannot be my friend. pray do not consider me bold for assuming so much. but i know--i know _men_, mr. king. the baron has told you all about me?" she smiled sadly. "alas, he has only told you what he knows. but it should be sufficient. there is no place in my life for you or any one else. there never can be. so, you see, you may not develop your romance with me as the foundation. oh, i've heard of your quest of adventure. i like you for it. i had an imagination myself, once on a time. i loved the fairy books and the love tales. but not now-not now. there is no romance for me. nothing but grave reality. do not question me! i can say no more. now i must be gone. i--i have warned you. do not come again!" "thanks, for the warning," he said quietly. "but i expect to come in occasionally, just the same. you've taken the wrong tack by trying to frighten me off. you see, miss platanova, i'm actually looking for something dangerous--if that's what you mean." "that isn't all, believe me," she pleaded. "you can gain nothing by coming. you know who i am. i cannot be a friend--not even an acquaintance to you, mr. king. good-bye! please do not come again!" she slipped into the street and was gone. king stood in the doorway, looking after her, a puzzled gleam in his eyes. old spantz was coming up from the rear, followed by his customer. "queer," thought the american. "she's changed her tactics rather suddenly. smiled at me in the beginning and now cries a bit because i'm trying to return the compliment. well, by the lord harry, she shan't scare me off like--hello, mr. spantz! good morning! i'm here for the sword." the old man glared at him in unmistakable displeasure. truxton began counting out his money. the customer, a swarthy fellow, passed out of the door, turning to glance intently at the young man. a meaning look and a sly nod passed between him and spantz. the man halted at the corner below and, later on, followed king to cook's office, afterward to the castle gates, outside of which he waited until his quarry reappeared. until king went to bed late that night this swarthy fellow was close at his heels, always keeping well out of sight himself. "i'll come in soon to look at those rings," said king, placing the notes on the counter. spantz merely nodded, raked in the bills without counting them, and passed the sword over to the purchaser. "very good, sir," he growled after a moment. "i hate to carry this awful thing through the streets," said king, looking at the huge weapon with despairing eye. inwardly, he was cursing himself for his extravagance and cupidity. "it belongs to you, my friend. take it or leave it." "i'll take it," said truxton, smiling indulgently. with that he picked up the weapon and stalked away. a few minutes later he was on his way to the castle grounds, accompanied by the short-legged mr. hobbs, who, from time to time, was forced to remove his tight-fitting cap to mop a hot, exasperated brow, so swift was the pace set by long-legs. the broadsword reposed calmly on a desk under the nose of a properly impressed young person named stokes, cashier. hobbs led him through the great park gates and up to the lodge of jacob fraasch, the venerable high steward of the grounds. here, to king's utter disgust, he was booked as a plain cook's tourist and mechanically advised to pay strict attention to the rules which would be explained to him by the guide. "cook's tourist, eh?" muttered king wrathfully as they ambled down the shady path together. he looked with disparaging eye upon the plain little chap beside him. "it's no disgrace," growled hobbs, redder than ever. "you're inside the grounds and you've got to obey the rules, same as any tourist. right this way, sir; we'll take a turn just inside the wall. now, on your left, ladies and--ahem!--i should say--ahem!--sir, you may see the first turret ever built on the wall. it is over four hundred years old. on the right, we have--" "see here, hobbs," said king, stopping short, "i'm damned if i'll let you lecture me as if i were a gang of hayseeds from oklahoma." "very good, sir. no offence. i quite forgot, sir." "just _tell_ me--don't lecture." for three-quarters of an hour they wandered through the spacious grounds, never drawing closer to the castle than permitted by the restrictions; always coming up to the broad driveway which marked the border line, never passing it. the gorgeous beauty of this historic old park, so full of traditions and the lore of centuries, wrought strange fancies and bold inclinations in the head of the audacious visitor. he felt the bonds of restraint; he resented the irksome chains of convention; he murmured against the laws that said he should not step across the granite road into the cool forbidden world beyond--the world of kings. hobbs knew he was doomed to have rebellion on his hands before long; he could see it coming. "when we've seen the royal stables, we'll have seen everything of any consequence," he hastened to say. "then we'll leave by the upper gates and--" "hobbs, this is all very beautiful and very grand and very slow," said king, stopping to lean against the moss-covered wall that encircled the park within a park: the grounds adjoining the grotto. "can't i hop over this wall and take a peep into the grotto?" "by no means," cried hobbs, horrified. "that, sir, is the most proscribed spot, next to the castle itself. you _can't_ go in there." king looked over the low wall. the prospect was alluring. the pool, the trickling rivulets, the mossy banks, the dense shadows: it was maddening to think he could not enter! "i wouldn't be in there a minute," he argued. "and i might catch a glimpse of a dream-lady. now, i say, hobbs, here's a low place. i could jump--" "mr. king, if you do that i am ruined forever. i am trusted by the steward. he would cut off all my privileges--" hobbs could go no further. he was prematurely aghast. something told him that mr. king would hop over the wall. "just this once, hobbs," pleaded his charge. "no one will know." "for the love of moses, sir, i--" hobbs began to wail. then he groaned in dismal horror. king had lightly vaulted the wall and was grinning back at him from the sacred precincts--from the playground of princesses. "go and report me, hobbs, there's a good fellow. tell the guards i wouldn't obey. that will let you out, my boy, and i'll do the rest. for heaven's sake, hobbs, don't burst! you'll explode sure if you hold in like that much longer. i'll be back in a minute." he strode off across the bright green turf toward the source of all this enchantment, leaving poor mr. hobbs braced against the wall, weak-kneed and helpless. if he heard the frantic, though subdued, whistles and the agonized "hi!" of the man from cook's a minute or two later, he gave no heed to the warning. a glimpse behind might have shown him the error of his ways, reflected in the disappearance of hobbs's head below the top of the wall. but he was looking ahead, drinking in the forbidden beauties of this fascinating little nook of nature. never in all his wanderings had he looked upon a more inviting spot than this. he came to the edge of the deep blue pool, above which could be seen the entrance to the grotto. little rivulets danced down through the crannies in the rocks and leaped joyously into the tree-shaded pool. below and to the right were the famed basins of venus, shimmering in the sunlight, flanked by trees and banks of the softest green. on their surface swam the great black swans he had heard so much about. through a wide rift in the trees he could see the great, grey castle, half a mile away, towering against the dense greens of the nearby mountain. the picture took his breath away. he forgot hobbs. he forgot that he was; trespassing. here, at last, was the graustark he had seen in his dreams, had come to feel in his imagination. regardless of surroundings or consequences, he sat down upon the nearest stone bench, and removed his hat. he was hot and tired and the air was cool. he would drink it in as if it were an ambrosial nectar in--and, moreover, he would also enjoy a cigarette. carefully he refrained from throwing the burnt-out match into the pool below: even such as he could feel that it might be desecration. as he leaned back with a sigh of exquisite ease and a splendid exhalation of turkish smoke, a small, imperious voice from somewhere behind broke in upon his primary reflections. "what are you doing in here?" demanded the voice. truxton, conscious of guilt, whirled with as much consternation as if he had been accosted by a voice of thunder. he beheld a very small boy standing at the top of the knoll above him, not thirty feet away. his face was quite as dirty as any small boy's should be at that time of day, and his curly brown hair looked as if it had not been combed since the day before. his firm little legs, in half hose and presumably white knickers, were spread apart and his hands were in his pockets. king recognised him at once, and looked about uneasily for the attendants whom he knew should be near. it is safe to say that he came to his feet and bowed deeply, even in humility. "i am resting, your highness," he said meekly. "don't you know any better than to come in here?" demanded the prince. truxton turned very red. "i am sorry. i'll go at once." "oh, i'm not going to put you out," hastily exclaimed the prince, coming down the slope. "but you are old enough to know better. the guards might shoot you if they caught you here." he came quite close to the trespasser. king saw the scratch on his nose. "oh, i know you now. you are the gentleman who picked up my crop yesterday. you are an american." a friendly smile illumined his face. "yes, a lonely american," with an attempt at the pathetic. "where's your home at?" "new york. quite a distance from here." "you ever been in central park?" "a thousand times. it isn't as nice as this one." "it's got amilies--no, i don't mean that," supplemented the prince, flushing painfully. "i mean--an-i-muls," very deliberately. "our park has no elephunts or taggers. when i get big i'm going to set out a few in the park. they'll grow, all right." "i've shot elephants and tigers in the jungle," said truxton. "i tell you they're no fun when they get after you, wild. if i were you i'd set 'em out in cages." "p'raps i will." the prince seemed very thoughtful. "won't you sit down, your highness?" the youngster looked cautiously about. "say, do you ever go fishing?" he demanded eagerly. "occasionally." "you won't give me away, will you?" with a warning frown. "don't you tell jacob fraasch. he's the steward. i--i know a fine place to fish. would you mind coming along? look out, please! you're awful big and they'll see you. i don't know what they'd do to us if they ketched us. it would be dreadful. would you mind sneaking, mister? make yourself little. right up this way." the prince led the way up the bank, followed by the amused american, who stooped so admirably that the boy, looking back, whispered that it was "just fine." at the top of the knoll, the prince turned into a little shrub-lined path leading down to the banks of the pool almost directly below the rocky face of the grotto. "don't be afraid," he whispered to his new friend. "it ain't very deep, if you should slip in. but you'd scare the fish away. gee, it's a great place to catch 'em. they're all red, too. d'you ever see red fish?" truxton started. this was no place for him! the prince had a right to poach on his own preserves, but a grown man to be caught in the act of landing the royal goldfish was not to be thought of. he hung back. "i'm afraid i won't have time, your highness. a friend is waiting for me back there. he--" "it's right here," pleaded the prince. "please stop a moment. i--i don't know how to put the bait on the pin. i just want to catch a couple. they won't bite unless there's worms on the hook. i tried 'em. look at 'em! goodness, there's lots of 'em. nobody can see us here. please, mister, fix a worm for me." the man sat down behind a bush and laughed joyously. the eager, appealing look in the lad's eyes went to his heart. what was a goldfish or two? a fish has no feeling--not even a goldfish. there was no resisting the boyish eagerness. "why, you're a real boy, after all. i thought being a prince might have spoiled you," he said. "uncle jack says i can always be a prince, but i'll soon get over being a boy," said prince bobby sagely. "you _will_ fix it, won't you?" king nodded, conscienceless now. the prince scurried behind a big rock and reappeared at once with a willow branch from the end of which dangled a piece of thread. a bent pin occupied the chief end in view. he unceremoniously shoved the branch into the hands of his confederate, and then produced from one of his pockets a silver cigarette box, which he gingerly opened to reveal to the gaze a conglomerate mass of angle worms and grubs. "a fellow gets awful dirty digging for worms, doesn't he?" he pronounced. "i should say so," agreed the big boy. "whose cigarette case is this?" "uncle caspar's--i mean count halfont's. he's got another, so he won't miss this one. i'm going to leave some worms in it when i put it back in his desk. he'll think the fairies did it. do you believe in fairies?" "certainly, peter," said truxton, engaged in impaling a stubborn worm. "my name isn't peter," said the prince coldly. "i was thinking of peter pan. ever hear of him?" "no. say, you mustn't talk or you'll scare 'em away. is it fixed?" he took the branch and gingerly dropped the hook into the dancing pool. in less time than it requires to tell it he had a nibble, a bite and a catch. there never was a boy so excited as he when the scarlet nibbler flew into the shrubbery above; he gasped with glee. truxton recovered the catch from the bushes and coolly detached the truculent pin. "i'll have 'em for dinner," announced the prince. "are you going to catch a mess?" queried the man, appalled. "sure," said bobby, casting again with a resolute splash. "are you not afraid they'll get onto you if you take them to the castle?" asked the other diplomatically. "goldfish are a dead give-away." "nobody will scold 'cept uncle jack, and he won't know about it. he's prob'ly gone away by this time." king noticed that his lip trembled suddenly. "gone away?" "yes. he was banished this morning right after breakfast." the announcement began with a tremor but ended with imperial firmness. "great scott!" gasped the other, genuinely shocked. "i banished him," said the prince ruefully. "but," with a fine smile, "i don't think he'll go. he never does. see my sign up there?" he pointed to the rocks near the grotto. "i did it with hugo's shoe blacking." a placard containing the important announcement, "no fishing aloud" stared down at the poachers from a tree trunk above. there was nothing very peremptory in its appearance, but its designer was sufficiently impressed by the craftiness it contained. "i put it up so's people wouldn't think anybody--not even me--would dare to fish here. oh, look!" the second of his ruddy mess was flopping in the grass. again truxton thought of mr. hobbs, this time with anxious glances in all directions. "where do they think you are, your highness?" "out walking with my aunt. only she met count vos engo, and while they were talking i made a sneak--i mean, i stole away." "then they'll be searching for you in all parts of the--" began truxton, coming to his feet. "i really must be going. please excuse me, your--" "oh, don't go! i'll not let 'em do anything to you," said the prince staunchly. "i like americans better than anybody else," he went on with deft persuasiveness. "they ain't--aren't afraid of anything. they're not cowards." truxton sat down at once. he could not turn tail in the face of such an exalted opinion. "i'm not supposed to ever go out alone," went on the prince confidentially. "you see, they're going to blow me up if they get a chance." "blow you up?" "haven't you heard about it? with dynamite bums--bombs. yes, sir! that's the way they do to all princes." he was quite unconcerned. truxton's look of horror diminished. no doubt it was a subterfuge employed to secure princely obedience, very much as the common little boy is brought to time by mention of the ubiquitous bogie man. "that's too bad," commiserated truxton, baiting the pin once more. "it's old count marlanx. he's going to blow me up. he hated my mother and my father, so i guess he hates me. he's turrible, uncle caspar says." king was very thoughtful for a moment. something vivid yet fleeting had shot through his brain--something that he tried to catch and analyse, but it was gone before he could grasp its significance. he looked with new interest upon this serene, lovable little chap, who was growing up, like all princes, in the shadow of disaster. suddenly the fisherman's quick little ears caught a sound that caused him to reveal a no-uncertain agitation. he dropped his rod incontinently and crawled to the opening in the shrubbery, peering with alarmed eyes down the path along the bank. "what is it? a dynamiter?" demanded truxton uneasily. "worse'n that," whispered his royal highness. "it's aunt loraine. gee!" to king's utter dismay, the prince scuttled for the underbrush. "here!" he called in consternation. the prince stopped, shamefaced on the instant. "i thought you were going to protect me." "i shall," affirmed bobby, manfully resuming his ground. "she's coming up the path. don't run," he exclaimed scornfully, as truxton started for the rocks. "she can't hurt you. she's only a girl." "all right. i won't run," said the big culprit, who wished he had the power to fly. "and there's saffo and cors over there watching us, too. we're caught. i'm sorry, mister." on the opposite bank of the pool stood two rigid members of the royal guard, intently watching the fishers. king was somewhat disturbed by the fact that their rifles were in a position to be used at an instant's notice. he felt himself turning pale as he thought of what might have happened if he had taken to flight. a young lady in a rajah silk gown, a flimsy panama hat tilted well over her nose, with a red feather that stood erect as if always in a state of surprise, turned the bushes and came to a stop almost at king's elbow. he had time to note, in his confusion, that she was about shoulder-high alongside him, and that she was staring up into his face with amazed grey eyes. afterward he was to realise that she was amazingly pretty, that her teeth were very white and even, that her eyes were the most beautiful and expressive he had ever seen, that she was slender and imperious, and that there were dimples in her checks so fascinating that he could not gather sufficient strength of purpose to withdraw his gaze from them. of course, he did not see them at the outset: she was not smiling, so how could he? the prince came to the rescue. "this is my aunt loraine, mr.--mr.--" he swallowed hard and looked helpless. "king," supplied truxton, "truxton king, your highness." then with all the courage he could produce, he said to the beautiful lady: "i'm as guilty as he. see!" he pointed ruefully to the four goldfish, which he had strung upon wire grass and dropped into the edge of the pool. she did not smile. indeed, she gave him a very severe look. "how cruel!" she murmured. "bobby, you deserve a sound spanking. you are a very naughty little boy." she spoke rapidly in french. "he put the bait on," said bobby, also in french. here was treachery! truxton delivered himself of some french. "oh, i say, your highness, you said you'd pardon me if i were caught." "i can't pardon you until you are found guilty," said the prince in english. "please put those poor little things back in the pool, mr. king," said the lady in perfect english. "gladly--with the prince's permission," said king, also in english. the prince looked glum, but interposed no imperial objection. instead he suddenly shoved the cigarette box under the nose of his dainty relative, who at that unpropitious instant stooped over to watch king's awkward attempt to release the fishes. "look at the worms," said the prince engagingly, opening the box with a snap. "oh!" cried the young lady, starting back. "throw them away! the horned things!" "oh, they can't bite," scoffed the prince. "see! i'm not afraid of 'em. look at this one." he held up a wriggler and she fled to the rock. she happened to glance at truxton's averted face and was conscious of a broad grin; whereupon she laughed in the quick staccato of embarrassment. it must be confessed that king's composure was sorely disturbed. in the first place, he had been caught in a most reprehensible act, and in the second place, he was not quite sure that the prince could save him from ignominious expulsion under the very eyes--and perhaps direction--of this trim and attractive member of the royal household. he found himself blundering foolishly with the fishes and wondering whether she was a duchess or just a plain countess. even a regal personage might jump at the sight of angle worms, he reflected. he glanced up, to find her studying him, plainly perplexed. "i just wondered in here," he began guiltily. "the prince captured me down there by the big tree." "did you say your name is truxton king?" she asked somewhat sceptically. "yes, your--yes, ma'am," he replied. "of new york." "your father is mr. emerson king? are you the brother of adele king?" truxton stared. "have you been interviewing the police?" he asked before he thought. "the police? what have you been doing?" she cried, her eyes narrowing. "most everything. the police know all about me. i'm a spotted character. i thought perhaps they had told you about me." "i asked if you were adele's brother." "i am." "i've heard her speak of her brother truxton. she said you were in south america." he stared the harder. could he believe his ears? she was regarding him with cool, speculative interest. "i wonder if you are he?" "i think i am," he said, but doubtfully. "please pardon my amazement. perhaps i'm dreaming. at any rate, i'm dazed." "we were in the convent together for two years. now that i observe you closely, you _do_ resemble her. we were very good friends, she and i." "then you'll intercede for me?" he urged, with a fervent glance in the direction of the wall. she smiled joyously. he realised then and there that he had never seen such beautiful teeth, nor any creature so radiantly beautiful, for that matter. "more than that," she said, "i shall assist you to escape. come!" he followed her through the shrubbery, his heart pounding violently. the prince, who trotted on ahead, had mentioned a count. was she married? was she of the royal blood? what extraordinary fate had made her the friend of his sister? he looked back and saw the two guardsmen crossing the bridge below, their eyes still upon him. "it's very good of you," he said. she glanced back at him, a quaint smile in her eyes. "for adele's sake, if you please. trespassing is a very serious offence here. how did you get in?" "i hopped in, over the wall." "i'd suggest that you do not hop out again. hopping over the walls is not looked upon with favour by the guards." he recalled the distressed mr. hobbs. "the man from cook's tried to restrain me," he said in proper spirit. "he was very much upset." "i dare say. you are a cook's tourist, i see. how very interesting! bobby, uncle jack is waiting to take you to see the trained dogs at the eastern gate." the prince gave a whoop of joy, but instantly regained his dignity. "i can't go, auntie, until i've seen him safe outside the walls," he said firmly. "i said i would." they came to the little gate and passed through, into a winding path that soon brought them to a wide, main-travelled avenue. a light broke in upon truxton's mind. he had it! this was the wonderful countess marlanx! no sooner had he come to that decision than he was forced to abandon it. the countess's name was ingomede and she already had been pointed out to him. "i suppose i shall have to recall uncle jack from exile," he heard the prince saying to the beautiful lady. truxton decided that she was not more than twenty-two. but they married very young in these queer old countries--especially if they happened to be princes or princesses. he wanted to talk, to ask questions, to proclaim his wonder, but discreetly resolved that it was best to hold his tongue. he was by no means sure of himself. be that as it may, he was filled with a strange rejoicing. here was a woman with whom he was as sure to fall in love as he was sure that the sun shone. he liked the thought of it. now he appreciated the distinction between the olga platanova type and that which represented the blood of kings. there _was_ a difference! here was the true patrician! the castle suddenly loomed up before them--grey and frowning, not more than three hundred yards away. he was possessed of a wild desire to walk straight into the grim old place and proclaim himself the feudal owner, seizing everything as his own--particularly the young woman in the rajah silk. people were strolling in the shady grounds. he felt the instant infection of happy indolence, the call to luxury. men in gay uniforms and men in cool flannels; women in the prettiest and daintiest of frocks--all basking in the playtime of life, unmindful of the toil that fell to the sons of martha out in the sordid world. "do you think you can find your man from cook's?" she asked. "unless he has gone and jumped into the river, your--madam. in any event, i think i may safely find my way out. i shall not trouble you to go any farther. thank you for overlooking my indiscretion. thank you, my dear little prince, for the happiest experience of my life. i shall never forget this hour." he looked boldly into her eyes, and not at the prince. "have you ever been in new york?" he asked abruptly. he was not at all sure whether the look she gave him was one of astonishment or resentment. at any rate, it was a quick glance, followed by the palpable suppression of words that first came to her lips, and the substitution of a very polite: "yes, and i love it." he beamed. the smile that came into her eyes escaped him. if he could have seen it, his bewilderment; would have been sadly increased. "say!" whispered the prince, dropping back as if to impart a grave secret. "see that man over there by the fountain, mr. king?" "bobby!" cried the lady sharply. "good-bye, mr. king. remember me to your sister when you write. she--" "that's aunt loraine's beau," announced the prince. "that's count eric vos engo." truxton's look turned to one of interest at once. the man designated was a slight, swarthy fellow in the uniform of a colonel. he did not appear to be particularly happy at the moment. the american observed the lady's dainty ears. they had turned a delicate pink. "may i ask who--" began truxton timidly. "she will know if you merely call me loraine." "so long," said the prince. they parted company at once, the prince and the lady in the rajah silk going toward the castle, king toward the gates, somewhat dazed and by no means sure of his senses. he came down to earth after he had marched along on air for some distance, so to speak, and found himself deciding that she was a duchess here, but loraine at school. what a wonderful place a girl's school must be! and his sister knew her--knew a lady of high degree! "hobbs!" he called, catching sight of a dejected figure in front of the chief steward's door. "oh, it's you, is it?" said mr. hobbs sullenly. "it is, hobbs--very much me. i've been fishing with royalty and chatting with the nobility. where the devil have _you_ been?" "i've been squaring it with old man fraasch. i'm through with you, sir. no more for me, not if i know--" "come along, hobbs," said the other blithely, taking hobbs by the arm. "the prince sent his love to you." "did he mention cook's?" gasped hobbs. "he certainly did," lied truxton. "he spoke of you most kindly. he wondered if you could find time to come around to-morrow." chapter v the committee of ten it has been said before that truxton king was the unsuspecting object of interest to two sets of watchers. the fact that he was under the surveillance of the government police, is not surprising when we consider the evident thoroughness of that department; but that he should be continually watched by persons of a more sinister cast suggests a mystery which can be cleared up by visiting a certain underground room, scarce two blocks from the tower of graustark. it goes without saying that corporeal admittance to this room was not to be obtained easily. in fact, one must belong to a certain band of individuals; and, in order to belong to that band, one must have taken a very solemn pledge of eternal secrecy and a primal oath to devote his life to certain purposes, good or evil, according to his conscience. by means of the friendly sesame that has opened the way for us to the gentler secrets, we are permitted to enter this forbidding apartment and listen in safety to the ugly business of the committee of ten. there were two ways of reaching this windowless room, with its low ceilings and dank airs. if one had the secret in his possession, he could go down through the mysterious trap door in the workshop of william spantz, armourer to the crown; or he might come up through a hidden aperture in the walls of the great government sewer, which ran directly parallel with and far below the walls of the quaint old building. one could take his choice of direction in approaching this hole in the huge sewer: he could come up from the river, half a mile away, or he could come down from the hills above if he had the courage to drop through one of the intakes. it is of special significance that the trap door in spantz's workshop was reserved for use by the armourer and his more fastidious comrades--of whom three were women and one an established functionary in the royal household. one should not expect ladies to traverse a sewer if oilier ways are open to them. the manner of reaching the workshop was not so simple, however, as you might suppose. the street door was out of the quest ion, with dangloss on the watch, day and night. as much as can be said for the rear door. it was necessary, therefore, that the favored few should approach the shop by extraordinary paths. for instance, two of the women came through friendly but unknown doors in the basements of adjoining houses, reaching the workshop by the narrow stairs leading up from a cobwebby wine-cellar next door. spantz and olga platanova, of course, were at home in the place. all of which may go to prove that while ten persons comprised the committee, at least as many more of the shopkeepers in that particular neighbourhood were in sympathy with their secret operations. so cleverly were all these means of approach concealed and so stealthy the movements of the committee, that the existence of this underground room, far below the street level, was as yet unsuspected by the police. more than that, the existence of the committee of ten as an organisation was unknown to the department, notwithstanding the fact that it had been working quietly, seriously for more than a year. the committee of ten represented the brains and the activity of a rabid coterie in edelweiss, among themselves styled the party of equals. in plain language, they were "reds." less than fifty persons in graustark were affiliated with this particular community of anarchists. for more than a year they had been preparing themselves against the all-important hour for public declaration. their ranks had been augmented by occasional recruits from other lands; their literature was circulated stealthily; their operations were as secret as the grave, so far as the outside world was concerned. and so the poison sprung up and thrived unhindered in the room below the street, growing in virulence and power under the very noses of the vaunted police of edelweiss, slowly developing into a power that would some day assert itself with diabolical fury. there were men and women from axphain and dawsbergen in this seed circle that made edelweiss its spreading ground. they were reds of the most dangerous type--silent, voiceless, crafty men and women who built well without noise, and who gave out nothing to the world from which they expected to take so much. the nominal leader was william spantz, he who had a son in the prince's household, julius spantz, the master-of-arms. far off in the hills above the danube there lived the real leader of this deadly group--the iron count marlanx, exile from the land of his birth, hated and execrated by every loyal graustarkian, hating and execrating in return with a tenfold greater venom. marlanx, the man who had been driven from wealth and power by the sharp edict of prince robin's mother, the lamented yetive, in the days of her most glorious reign,--this man, deep in his raging heart, was in complete accord with the desperate band of reds who preached equality and planned disaster. olga platanova was the latest acquisition to this select circle. a word concerning her: she was the daughter of professor platanova, one time oculist and sociologist in a large german university. he had been one of the most brilliant men in europe and a member of a noble family. there was welcome for him in the homes of the nobility; he hobnobbed, so to speak, with the leading men of time empire. the platanova home in warsaw was one of the most inviting and exclusive in that great, city. the professor's enthusiasm finally carried him from the conservative paths in which he had walked; after he had passed his fiftieth year he became an avowed leader among the anarchists and revolutionists in poland, his native state. less than a year before the opening of this tale he was executed for treason and conspiracy against the empire. his daughter, olga, was recognised as one of the most beautiful and cultured young women in warsaw. her suitors seemed to be without number; nor were they confined to the student and untitled classes with whom she was naturally thrown by force of circumstance. more than one lordly adventurer in the lists of love paid homage to her grace and beauty. finally there came one who conquered and was beloved. he was the son of a mighty duke, a prince of the blood. it was true love for both of them. the young prince pledged himself to marry her, despite all opposition; he was ready to give up his noble inheritance for the sake of love. but there were other forces greater than a young man's love at work. the all-powerful ruler of an empire learned of this proposed mesalliance and was horrified. two weeks afterward the prince was called. the will of the crown was made known to him and--he obeyed. olga platanova was cast aside but not forgotten. he became the husband of an unloved, scrawny lady of diadems. when the situation became more than he could bear he blew out his brains. when olga heard the news of his death she was not stricken by grief. she cried out her joy to a now cloudless sky, for he had justified the great love that had been theirs and would be theirs to the end of time. from a passive believer in the doctrines of her father and his circle she became at once their most impassioned exponent. over night she changed from a gentle-hearted girl into a woman whose breast flamed with a lust for vengeance against a class from which death alone could free her lover. she threw herself, heart and soul, into the deliberations and transactions of the great red circle: her father understood and yet was amazed. then he was put to death by the class she had come to hate. one more stone in the sepulchre of her tender, girlish ideals. when the time came she travelled to graustark in response to the call of the committee of ten; she came prepared to kill the creature she would be asked to kill. and yet down in her heart she was sore afraid. she was there, not to kill a man grown old in wrongs to her people, but to destroy the life of a gentle, innocent boy of seven! there were times when her heart shrank from the unholy deed she had been selected to perform; she even prayed that death might come to her before the hour in which she was to do this execrable thing in behalf of the humanity she served. but there was never a thought of receding from the bloody task set down for her--a task so morbid, so horrid that even the most vicious of men gloated in the satisfaction that they had not been chosen in her place. weeks before she came to graustark olga platanova had been chosen by lot to be the one to do this diabolical murder. she did not flinch, but came resolute and ready. even the men in the committee of ten looked upon the slender, dark-eyed girl with an awe that could not be conquered. she had not the manner of an assassin, and yet they knew that she would not draw back; she was as soft and as sweet as the madonnas they secretly worshipped, and yet her heart was steeled to a purpose that appalled the fiercest of them. on a saturday night, following the last visit of truxton king to the armourer, the committee of ten met in the underground room to hear the latest word from one who could not be with them in person, but was always there in spirit--if they were to believe his most zealous utterances. the iron count marlanx, professed hater of all that was rich and noble, was the power behind the committee of ten. the assassination of the little prince and the overthrow of the royal family awaited his pleasure: he was the man who would give the word. not until he was ready could anything be done, for marlanx had promised to put the committee of ten in control of this pioneer community when it came under the dominion of anarchists. alas, for the committee of ten! the wiliest fox in the history of the world was never so wily as the iron count. some day they were to find out that he was using them to pull his choicest chestnuts from the fire. the committee was seated around the long table in the stifling, breathless room, the armourer at the head. those who came by way of the sewer had performed ablutions in the queer toilet room that once had been a secret vault for the storing of feudal plunder. what air there was came from the narrow ventilator that burrowed its ways up to the shop of william spantz, or through the chimney-hole in the ceiling. olga platanova sat far down the side, a moody, inscrutable expression in her dark eyes. she sat silent and oppressed through all the acrid, bitter discussions which carried the conclave far past the midnight hour. in her heart she knew that these men and women were already thinking of her as a regicide. it was settled--it was ordained. at spantz's right lounged peter brutus, a lawyer--formerly secretary to the iron count and now his sole representative among these people. he was a dark-faced, snaky-eyed young man, with a mop of coarse black hair that hung ominously low over his high, receding forehead. this man was the chosen villain among all the henchmen who came at the beck and call of the iron count. julius spantz, the armourer's son, a placid young man of goodly physical proportions, sat next to brutus, while down the table ranged others deep in the consideration of the world's gravest problems. one of the women was madame drovnask, whose husband had been sent to siberia for life; and the other, anna cromer, a rabid red lecturer, who had been driven from the united states, together with her amiable husband: an assassin of some distinction and many aliases, at present foreman in charge of one of the bridge-building crews on the new railroad. every man in the party, and there were eight, for olga was not a member of the ten, wore over the lower part of his face a false black beard of huge dimensions. not that they were averse to recognition among themselves, but in the fear that by some hook or crook dangloss or his agents might be able to look in upon them--through stone walls, as it were. they were not men to belittle the powers of the wonderful baron. as it sat in secret conclave, the committee of ten was a sinister-looking group. brutus was speaking. "the man is a spy. he has been brought here from america by tullis. sooner or later you will find that i am right." "it is best to keep close watch on him," advised one of the men. "we know that he is in communication with the police and we know that he visits the castle, despite his declaration that he knows no one there. to-day's experience proves that. i submit that the strictest caution be observed where he is concerned." "we shall continue to watch his every movement," said william spantz. "time will tell. when we are positive that he is a detective and that he is dangerous, there is a way to stop his operations." his son grinned amiably as he swept his finger across his throat. the old man nodded. "dangloss suspects more than one of us" ventured brutus, his gaze travelling toward olga. there was lewd admiration in that steady glance. "but we'll fool the old fox. the time will soon be here for the blow that frees graustark from the yoke. she will be the pioneer among our estates, we the first of the individuals in equality; here the home seat of perfect rulership. there is nothing that can stop us. have we not the most powerful of friends? who is greater and shrewder than count marlanx? who could have planned and perfected an organization so splendid? will any one dispute this?" he had the floor, and having the floor means everything to a red. for half an hour he spoke with impassioned fervour, descanting furiously on the amazing virtues of his wily master and the plans he had arranged. it appeared in the course of his remarks that marlanx had friends and supporters in all parts of graustark. hundreds of men in the hills, including honest shepherds and the dishonest brigands who thrived on them, coal miners and wood stealers, hunters and outlaws were ready to do his bidding when the time was ripe. moreover, marlanx had been successful in his design to fill the railway construction crews with the riff-raff of all europe, all of whom were under the control of leaders who could sway them in any movement, provided it was against law and order. as a matter of fact, according to brutus, nearly a thousand aliens were at work on the road, all of them ready to revolt the instant the command was given by their advisers. something that the committee of ten did not know was this: those alien workmen were no less than so many hired mercenaries in the employ of the iron count, brought together by that leader and his agents for the sole purpose of overthrowing the crown in one sudden, unexpected attack, whereupon count marlanx would step in and assume control of the government. they had been collected from all parts of the world to do the bidding of this despised nobleman, no matter to what lengths he might choose to lead them. brutus, of course, knew all this: his companions on the committee were in complete ignorance of the true motives that brought marlanx into their operations. with a cunning that commands admiration, the iron count deliberately sanctioned the assassination of the little prince by the reds, knowing that the condemnation of the world would fall upon them instead of upon him, and that his own actions following the regicide would at once stamp him as irrevocably opposed to anarchy and all of its practices! in the course of his remarks, peter brutus touched hastily upon the subject of the little prince. "he's not very big," said he, with a laugh, "and it won't require a very big bomb to blow him to smithereens. he will--" "stop!" cried olga platanova, springing to her feet and glaring at him with dilated eyes. "i cannot listen to you! you shall not speak of it in that way! peter brutus, you are not to speak of--of what i am to do! never--never again!" they looked at her in amazement and no little concern. madame drovnask was the first to speak, her glittering eyes fastened upon the drawn, white face of the girl across the table. "are you going to fail? are you weakening?" she demanded. "no! i am not going to fail! but i will not permit any one to jest about the thing i am to do. it is a sacred duty with me. but, madame drovnask--all of you, listen--it is a cruel, diabolical thing, just the same. were it not in behalf of our great humanity, i, myself, should call it the blackest piece of cruelty the world has ever known. the slaughter of a little boy! a dear, innocent little boy! i can see the horror in all of your faces! you shudder as you sit there, thinking of the thing i am to do. yes, you are secretly despising me, your instrument of death! i--i, a girl, i am to cast the bomb that blows this dear little body to pieces. i! do you know what that means? even though i am sure to be blown to pieces by the same agent, the last thing i shall look upon is his dear, terrified little face as he watches me hurl the bomb. ah!" she shuddered violently as she stood there before them, her eyes closed as if to shut out the horrible picture her mind was painting. there were other white faces and ice-cold veins about the table. the sneer on anna cromer's face deepened. "she will bungle it," came in an angry hiss from her lips. olga's lids were lifted. her dark eyes looked straight into those of the older woman. "no," she said quietly, her body relaxing, "i shall not bungle it." william spantz had been watching her narrowly, even suspiciously. now his face cleared. "she will not fail," he announced calmly. "let there be no apprehension. she is the daughter of a martyr. her blood is his. it will flow in the same cause. sit down, olga, my dear. we will not touch upon this subject again--until--" "i know, uncle," she said quietly, resuming her seat and her attitude of indifference. the discussion went back to truxton king. "isn't it possible that he is merely attracted by the beauty of our charming young friend here?" ventured madame drovnask, after many opinions had been advanced respecting his interest in the shop and its contents. "it is a habit with americans, i am told." "miss platanova is most worthy of the notice of any man," agreed brutus, with an amiable leer. olga seemed to shrink within herself. it was plain that she was not a kindred spirit to these vicious natures. "it is part of his game," said julius spantz. "he knows olga's past; he is waiting for a chance to catch her off her guard. he may even go so far as to make pretty love to you, cousin, in the hope that--no offence, my dear, no offence!" her look had silenced him. "mr. king is not a spy," she said steadily. "well," concluded william spantz, "we are safe if we take no chances with him. he must be watched all the time. if we discover that he is what some of us think he is, there is a way to end his usefulness." "let him keep away from the shop downstairs," said peter brutus, with a sidelong glance at the delicate profile of the girl down the table. she smiled suddenly, to the amazement of her sinister companions. "have no fear, brutus. when he hears that you object, he will be very polite and give us a wide berth," she said. peter flushed angrily. "he doesn't mean any good by you," he snapped. "he'll fool you and--poof! away he goes, rejoicing." she still smiled. "you have a very good opinion of me, peter brutus." "well," doggedly, "you know what men of his type think of shopgirls. they consider them legitimate prey." "and what, pray, do men of your type think of us?" she asked quietly. "enough of this," interposed william spantz. "now, brutus, what does count marlanx say to this day two weeks? will he be ready? on that day the prince and the court are to witness the unveiling of the yetive memorial statue in the plaza. it is a full holiday in graustark. no man will be employed at his usual task and--" brutus interrupted him. "that is the very day that the count has asked me to submit to the committee. he believes it to be the day of all days. nothing should go amiss. we conquer with a single blow. by noon of that day, the th of july, the committee of ten will be in control of the state; the new regime will be at hand. a new world will be begun, with edelweiss as the centre, about which all the rest shall revolve. we--the committee of ten--will be its true founders. we shall be glorified forever--" "we've heard all this before, brutus," said julius spantz unfeelingly, "a hundred times. it's talk, talk, talk! what we need now is action. are we sure that the count will be prepared to do all that he says he will on the th of july? will he have his plans perfected? are his forces ready for the stroke?" "positively. they await the word. that's all i can say," growled peter. "the death of the prince is the signal for the overthrow of the present government and the establishment of the new order of equal humanity." "after all," mused julius, master-at-arms in the castle, "it is more humane to slay the prince while he is young. it saves him from a long life of trouble and fear and the constant dread of the very thing that is to happen to him now. yes, it is best that it should come soon." down in his heart, julius loved the little prince. for an hour longer the committee discussed plans for the eventful day. certain details were left for future deliberations; each person had his part to play and each one was settled in his or her determination that nothing should go amiss. the man they feared was dangloss. they did not fear god! when they dispersed for the night, it was to meet again three days hence for the final word from marlanx, who, it seems, was not so far away that communication with him was likely to be delayed. a sword hung over the head of truxton king, an innocent outsider, and there was a prospect that it would fall in advance of the blow that was intended to startle the world. olga platanova was the only one who did not look upon the sprightly american as a spy in the employ of the government--a dangerously clever spy at that. up in the distant hills slept the iron count, dreaming of the day when he should rule over the new graustark--for he would rule!--a smile on his grizzled face in reflection of recent waking thoughts concerning the punishment that should fall swiftly upon the assassins of the beloved prince robin. he would make short shrift of assassins! chapter vi ingomede the beautiful a light, chilling drizzle had been falling all evening, pattering softly upon the roof of leaves that covered the sidewalks along castle avenue, glistening on the lamp-lit pavements and blowing ever so gently in the faces of those who walked in the dripping shades. far back from the shimmering sidewalks, surrounded by the blackest of shadows, and approached by hedge-bordered paths and driveways, stood the mansions occupied by the nobility of this gay little kingdom. a score or more of ancient palaces, in which the spirit, of modern aggression had wrought interior changes but had left the exteriors untouched, formed this aristocratic line of homes. here were houses that had been built in the fifteenth century,--great, square, solemn-looking structures, grown grey and green with age. there were lights in a thousand windows along this misty, royal road--lights that reflected the pleasures of the rich and yet caused no envy in time hearts of the loyal poor. almost in the centre of the imposing line stood the home of the duke of perse, minister of finance, flanked on either side by structures as grim and as gay as itself, yet far less significant in their generation. here dwelt the most important man in the principality, not excepting the devoted prime minister himself. not that perse was so well beloved, but that he held the destinies of the land in midas-like fingers. more than that, he was the father of the far-famed countess marlanx, the most glorious beauty at the austrian and russian courts. she had gone forth from graustark as its most notable bride since the wedding day of the princess yetive, late in the nineties. ingomede, the beautiful, had journeyed far to the hymeneal altar; the husband who claimed her was a hated, dishonoured man in his own land. they were married in buda pesth. all europe pitied her at the time; there was but one form of prophecy as to her future. there were those who went so far as to say that her father had delivered her into the hands of a latter-day bluebeard, who whisked her off into the highlands many leagues from vienna. she was seen no more in the gay courts for a year. then, of a sudden, she appeared before them all, as dazzlingly beautiful as ever, but with a haunting, wistful look in her dark eyes that could not be mistaken. the old count found an uneasy delight in exhibiting her to the world once more, plainly as a bit of property that all men were expected to look upon with envy in their hearts. she came up out of the sombre hills, freed from what must have been nothing less than captivity in that once feudal castle, to prove to his world that she thrived in spite of prophetic babblers. they danced from court to court, grotesquely mis-mated, deceiving no one as to the true relations that existed between them. she despised him without concealment; he took pride in showing that he could best resent her attitude by the most scrupulous devotion, so marked that its intent could not be mistaken. then the duke of perse resumed his residence in edelweiss, opening the old palace once more to the world. his daughter, after the death of the princess, began her extended visits to the home of her girlhood. so long as the princess was alive she remained away from edelweiss, reluctant to meet the friend who had banished her husband long before the wedding day in buda pesth. now she came frequently and stayed for weeks at a time, apparently happy during these escapes from life in the great capitals. here, at least, she was free from the grim old man whose countess she was; here, all was sweet and warm and friendly, delicious contrast to the cold, bitter life she knew on the danube. without warning she came and without farewells she left edelweiss on the occasion of these periodical visits. no word was ever spoken concerning her husband, except on the rare occasions when she opened her heart to the father who had bartered her into slavery for the sake of certain social franchises that the iron count had at his disposal. the outside world, which loved her, never heard of these bitter passages between father and child. like cinderella, she sometimes disappeared from joyous things at midnight; the next heard of her, she was in vienna, or at schloss marlanx. if the duke of perse repented of his bargain in giving his daughter to the iron count, he was never known to intimate as much. he loved ingomede in his own, hard way. no doubt he was sorry for her. it is a fact that she was sorry for him. she could read his bitter thoughts more clearly than he suspected. of late she came more frequently to edelweiss than before. she was seen often at the castle; no court function was complete without the presence of this lovely noblewoman; no _salon_ worth while unless graced by her wit and her beauty. john tullis was always to remember the moment when he looked upon this exquisite creature for the first time. that was months ago. after that he never ceased being a secret, silent worshipper at her transient shrine. ten o'clock on this rainy night: a carriage has drawn up before the lower gates to the perse grounds, and a tall, shadowy figure leaves it to hurry through the shrub lined walks to the massive doors. a watchman in the garden salutes him. the tall figure dips his umbrella in response, characteristically laconic. a footman lifts his hand to his forelock at the top of the steps and throws open the doors without question. this visitor is expected, it is plain to be seen; a circumstance which may or may not explain the nervousness that attends him as he crosses the broad hall toward the library. tullis had long since ceased to be a welcome visitor in the home of the duke of perse. the men were openly unfriendly to each other. the duke resented the cool interference of the sandy-haired american; on the other hand, tullis made no effort to conceal his dislike, if not distrust, of the older man. he argued--with unofficial and somewhat personal authority,--that a man who could trade his only child for selfish ends might also be impelled to sacrifice his country's interests without cramping his conscience. the countess was alone in the long, warm-tinted library. she stood before the dying embers in the huge old fireplace, her foot upon one of the great iron dogs. her smiling face was turned toward the door as he entered. "it is good of you to come," she said, as they shook hands warmly. "do you know it is almost a year since you last came to this house?" "it would be a century, countess, if i were not welcomed in other houses where i am sure of a glimpse of you from time to time and a word now and then. still, a year's a year. the room hasn't changed so far as i can see. the same old tiger-skin there, the rugs, the books, the pictures--the leopard's skin here and the--yes, the lamp is just where it used to be. 'pon my soul, i believe you are standing just as you were when i last saw you here. it's uncanny. one might think you had not moved in all these months!" "or that it has been a minute instead of a year," she supplemented. his quick, involuntary glance about him did not escape her understanding. "the duke has gone to ganlook to play bridge with friends," she said at once. "he will not return till late. i have just telephoned--to make sure." her smile did more than to reassure him. "of course, you will understand how impossible it is for me to come here, countess. your father, the duke, doesn't mince matters, and i'm not quite a fool." tullis squinted at the fire. "do you think ill of me for asking you to come to-night?" "not at all," he said cheerfully, "so long as you are quite sure that your father is in ganlook. he would be perfectly justified in kicking me out if he were to catch me here. and as i'm rather cumbersome and he's somewhat venerable, i don't like to think of the jar it would be to his system. but, so long as he isn't here, and i am, why shouldn't i draw up a chair before the fire for you, and another for myself, with the cigarettes and a world between us, to discuss conditions as they are, not as they might be if we were discovered? shall i? good! i defy any one's father to get me out of this chair until i am ready to relinquish it voluntarily." "i suppose you superintended the 'going-to-bed' of prince robin before you left the castle?" she said, lying back in the comfortable chair and stretching her feet out to the fire. he handed her a match and watched her light the long, ridiculously thin cigarette. "yes. i never miss it, countess. the last thing he does, after saying his prayers, is to recall me from exile. he wouldn't be happy if he couldn't do that. he says amen and hops into bed. then he grins in a far from imperial way and announces that he's willing to give me another chance, and please won't i tell him the latest news concerning jack-the-giant-killer. he asked me to-night if i thought you'd mind if he banished your father. they've had a children's quarrel, i believe. if you do mind, i am to let him know: he won't banish him. he's very fond of you, countess." she laughed gaily. "he is a dear boy. i adore him. i think i quite understand why you are giving up your life to him. at first i wasn't sure." "you thought i expected to gain something by it, is not that so? well, there are a great many people who think so still--your father among them. they'll never understand. i don't blame them, for, i declare to you, i don't fully appreciate it myself. john tullis playing nurse and story-teller to a seven-year-old boy, to the exclusion of everything else, is more than i can grasp. somehow, i've come to feel that he's mine. that must be the reason. but you've heard me prate on this subject a hundred times. don't let me start it again. there's something else you want to talk to me about, so please don't encourage me to tell all the wonderful things he has said and done to-day." "it is of the prince that i want to speak, mr. tullis," she said, suddenly serious. "i don't care to hear whether he stubbed his toe to-day or just how much he has grown since yesterday, but i do want to talk very seriously with you concerning his future--i might say his immediate future." he looked at her narrowly. "are you quite serious?" "quite. i could not have asked you to come to this house for anything trivial. we have become very good friends, you and i. too good, perhaps, for i've no doubt there are old tabbies in edelweiss who are provoked to criticism--you know what i mean. their world is full of imaginary affairs, else what would there be left for old age? but we are good friends and we understand why we are good friends, so there's the end to that. as i say, i could not have asked so true a friend into the house of his enemy for the mere sake of having my vanity pleased by his obedience." "i am quite sure of that," he said. "are you in trouble, countess? is there anything i can do?" "it has to do with the prince, not with me," she said. "and yet i am in trouble--or perhaps i should say, i am troubled." "the prince is a sturdy little beggar," he began, but she lifted her hand in protest. "and he has sturdy, loyal friends. that is agreed. and yet--" she paused, a perplexed line coming between her expressive eyes. john tullis opened his own eyes very wide. "you don't mean to say that he is--he is in peril of any sort?" she looked at him a long time before speaking. he could feel that she was turning something over in her mind before giving utterance to the thought. at last she leaned nearer to him, dropping the ash from her cigarette into the receiver as she spoke slowly, intensely. "i think he is in peril--in deadly peril." he stared hard. "what do you mean?" he demanded, with an involuntary glance over his shoulder. she interpreted that glance correctly. "the peril is not here, mr. tullis. i know what you are thinking. my father is a loyal subject. the peril i suggest never comes to graustark." she said no more but leaned forward, her face whiter than its wont. he frowned, but it was the effect of temporary perplexity. gradually the meaning of her simple, though significant remark filtered through his brain. "never comes to graustark?" he almost whispered. "you don't--you can't mean your--your husband?" "i mean count marlanx," she said steadily. "he means evil to prince robin? good heavens, countess, i--i can't believe it. i know he is bitter, revengeful, and all that, but--" "he is all that and more," she said. "first, you must let me impress you that i am not a traitor to his cause. i could not be that, for the sufficient reason that i only suspect its existence. i am not in any sense a part of it. i do not _know_ anything. i only feel. i dare say you realise that i do not love count marlanx--that there is absolutely nothing in common between us except a name. we won't go into that. i--" "i am overjoyed to hear you say this, countess," he said very seriously. "i have been so bold on occasion as to assert--for your private ear, of course--that you could not, by any freak of nature, happen to care for count marlanx, whom i know only by description. you have laughed at my so-called american wit, and you have been most tolerant. now, i feel that i am justified. i'm immeasurably glad to hear you confess that you do not love your husband." "i cannot imagine any one so stupid as to think that i do love count marlanx, for that matter, that he loves me. still, i am relieved to hear you say that you are glad. it simplifies the present for us, and that is what we are to discuss." "you are very, very beautiful, and young, and unhappy," he said irrelevantly, a darker glow in his cheeks. she smiled serenely, without a trace of diffidence or protest. "i can almost believe it, you say it so convincingly," she said. for a moment she relaxed luxuriantly into an attitude of physical enjoyment of herself, surveying her toe-tips with a thoughtfulness that comprehended more; and then as abruptly came back to the business of the moment. "you must not spoil it all by saying it too fervently," she went on with a smile of warning. he gave a short laugh of confusion and sank back in the chair. "you have never tried to make love to me," she went on. "that's what i like about you. i think most men are silly, not because i am so very young, but because my husband is so ridiculously old. don't you think so? but, never mind! i see you are quite eager to answer--that's enough. take another cigarette and--listen to what i am going to say." he declined the cigarette with a shake of his head. after a moment she went on resolutely: "as i said before, i do not know that my suspicions are correct. i have not even breathed them to my father. he would have laughed at me. my husband is a graustarkian, even as i am, but there is this distinction between us: he despises graustark, while i love her in every drop of my blood. i know that in his heart he has never ceased to brew evil for the throne that disgraced him. he openly expresses his hatred for the present dynasty, and has more than once said in public gatherings that he could cheerfully assist in its utter destruction. that, of course, is commonly known in graustark, where he is scorned and derided. but he is not a man to serve his hatred with mere idle words and inaction." she stopped for a moment, and then cried impulsively: "i must first know that you will not consider me base and disloyal in saying these things to you. after all, he is my husband." he saw the faint curl of her lip. "before that," he argued simply, "you were a daughter of graustark. you were not born to serve a cause that means evil to the dear land. graustark first made you noble; you can't go back on that, you know. don't let your husband degrade you. i think you can see how i feel about it. please believe that i know you can do no wrong." "thank you," she said, returning the look in his earnest grey eyes with one in which the utmost confidence shone. "you are the only man to whom i feel sure that i can reveal myself and be quite understood. it isn't as if i had positive facts to divulge, for i have not; they are suspicions, fears, that's all, but they are no longer vague shapes to me; they mean something." "tell me," he said quietly. he seemed to square his broad shoulders and to set his jaw firmly, as if to resist physical attack. she knew she had come with her fears to a man in whose face it was declared that he could laugh at substance as well as shadow. "i am seeing you here in this big room, openly, for the simple reason that if i am being watched this manner of meeting may be above suspicion. we may speak freely here, for we cannot be heard unless we raise our voices. don't betray surprise or consternation. the eyes of the wall may be better than its ears." "you don't mean to say you are being watched here in your father's house?" he demanded. "i don't know. this i do know: the count has many spies in edelweiss. he is systematically apprised of everything that occurs at court, in the city, or in the council chamber. so you see, he is being well served, whether to an evil purpose or to satisfy his own innate curiosity, i do not know. he has reports almost daily,--voluminous things, partly in cipher, partly free, and he is forever sending men away on secret, mysterious missions. understand, i do not know that he is actually planning disaster to graustark. day before yesterday i saw his secretary in the streets--a man who has been in his employ for five years or more and who now pretends to be a lawyer here. his name is brutus. i spoke with him. he said that he had left the count six weeks ago in vienna, determined to set out for himself in his chosen profession. he knows, of course, that i am not and never have been in the confidences of my husband. i asked him if it was known in edelweiss that he had served the count as secretary. he promptly handed me one of his business cards, on which he refers to himself as the former trusted and confidential secretary of count marlanx. now, i happen to know that he is still in my husband's service,--or was no longer ago than last week." "my dear countess, he may be serving him legitimately as an attorney. there would be nothing strange in that." "but he is still serving him as confidential secretary. he is here for a purpose, as my husband's representative. i have not been asleep all these months at schloss marlanx. i have seen and heard enough to convince me that some great movement is on foot. my intelligence tells me that it has to do with graustark. as he wishes the prince no good, it must be for evil." "but there is nothing he can do. he has no following here. the prince is adored by the people. count marlanx would not be such a fool as to--" "he is no fool," she interrupted quickly. "that's why i am afraid. if he is plotting against the crown, you may depend upon it he is laying his plans well. john tullis, that man is a devil--a devil incarnate." she turned her face away. a spasm of utter repugnance crossed her face; she shuddered so violently that his hand went forth to clutch the fingers that trembled on the arm of the chair. he held them in his firm grasp for a moment. they looked into each other's eyes and he saw the flicker of undisguised horror in hers. an instant later she was herself again. withdrawing her hand, she added, with a short laugh of derision: "still i did not expect heaven, so why complain." "but you are an angel," he blurted out. "i don't believe the count will agree to that," she said, with a reflective twinkle in her dark eyes. "he has not found me especially angelic. if you imagine that i cannot scratch back, my dear friend, you are very much mistaken. i have had the pleasure of giving him more than one bad half hour. you may be sure he has never called me an angel. quite the other thing, i assure you. but we are straying from the point." "wait a moment, please," he commanded. "i want to say to you here and now: you are the gentlest, loveliest woman i have ever known. i don't say it idly. i mean it. if you gave him half as good as he sent, i rejoice in your spirit. now, i want to ask if you expect to go back to live with the da--with him." "that, mr. tullis, is hardly a matter i can discuss with you," she said gently, and he was not offended. "perhaps not, countess, but now is the time for you to decide the issue. why should you return to castle marlanx? why keep up the farce--or i might say, tragedy--any longer? you love graustark. you love the prince. you betray them both by consorting with their harshest foe. oh, i could tell you a thousand reasons why--" "we haven't time for them," she interrupted, with mock despair in her face. "besides, i said we cannot discuss it. it requires no learned argument to move me, one way or the other. i can decide for myself." "you should divorce him," he said harshly. she laughed easily, softly. "my good friend, if i did that, i'd lose your friendship." he opened his lips to remonstrate, but suddenly caught the undercurrent of the naive remark. "by jove," he said, his eyes glowing, "you must not risk finding me too obtuse." "bravo!" she cried. "you are improving." "i could provide a splendid substitute for the friendship you speak of," he said coolly. "poof! what is that to me? i could have a hundred lovers--but, ach, friends are the scarcest things in the world. i prefer friendship. it lasts. there! i see disapproval in your face! you americans are so literal." she gazed into the fireplace for a moment, her lips parted in a whimsical smile. he waited for her to go on; the words were on her tongue's end, he could tell. "a divorce at twenty-five. i believe that is the accepted age, isn't it? if one gets beyond that, she--but, enough of this!" she sprang to her feet and stood before him, the flash dying in her eyes even as it was born that he might see so briefly. "we diverge! you must go soon. it is best not to be seen leaving here at a very late hour--especially as my father is known to be away. i am afraid of peter brutus. he is here to watch--_everybody_." she was leaning against the great carved mantel post, a tall, slender, lissome creature, exquisitely gowned in rarest irish lace, her bare neck and shoulders gleaming white against the dull timbers beyond, the faint glow from the embers creeping up to her face with the insistence of a maiden's flush. he gazed in rapt admiration, his heart thumping like fury in his great breast. she was little more than a girl, this wife of old marlanx, and yet how wise, how clever, how brilliant she was! a face of unusual pallor and extremely patrician in its modelling, surmounted by a coiffure so black that it could be compared only to ebony--black and almost gleaming with the life that was in it. it came low on her forehead, shading the wondrous dark eyes--eyes that were a deep yellowish green in their division between grey and black, eyes that were soft and luminous and unwaveringly steadfast, impelling in their power to fascinate, yet even more dangerously compassionate when put to the test that tries woman's vanity. there were diamonds on her long, tapering fingers, and a rope of pearls in her hair. a single wide gold band encircled her arm above the elbow, an arm-band as old as the principality itself, for it had been worn by twenty fair ancestors before her. the noblewomen of graustark never wore bracelets on their wrists; always the wide chased gold band on the upper arm. there was a day, not so far back in history, when they wore bands on their ankles. she was well named ingomede, the beautiful. a soft, almost imperceptible perfume, languorous in its appeal to the senses, exuded from this perfect creation; added to this, the subtle, unfailing scent of young womanhood; the warm, alive feel of her presence in the atmosphere; a suggestion of something sensuous, clean, pure, delicious. the undescribable. "does baron dangloss know this man brutus?" asked tullis, arising to stand beside her. a sub-conscious, triumphant thrill shot through him as an instantaneous flash of his own physical superiority over this girl's husband came over him. he was young and strong and vital. he could feel the sensation of being strong; he tingled with the glory of it. he was thirty-five, marlanx seventy. he wondered if marlanx had ever been as strong as he. "i don't know," she said thoughtfully. "i have not spoken to him concerning brutus. perhaps he knows. the baron is very wise. let me tell you how i happen to know that peter brutus is still serving count marlanx and why i think his presence signifies a crisis of some sort." tullis stood facing the great fireplace, his back to the hail. he observed that she looked toward the doors quite as often as she looked at him; it struck him that she was extremely cautious despite her apparent ease. her voice, always low and even, second lower still. "in the first place, i have a faithful friend in one of the oldest retainers at schloss marlanx. his daughter is my maid. she is here with me now. the old man came to see josepha one day last week. he had accompanied count marlanx to the town of balak, which is in axphain, a mile beyond the graustark line. peter brutus was with my husband in balak for two days. they were closeted together from morning till night in the house where marlanx was stopping. at the end of two days brutus went away, but he carried with him a vast sum of money provided by my husband. it was given out that he was on his way to serros in dawsbergen, where he expected to purchase a business block for his master. marlanx waited another day in balak, permitting josepha's father to come on to edelweiss with a message for me and to see his daughter. he--" "and josepha's father saw brutus in edelweiss?" "no. but he did see him going into balak as he left for edelweiss that morning. he wore a disguise, but jacob says he could not be mistaken. moreover, he was accompanied by several men whom he recognised as graustark mountaineers and hunters of rather unsavoury reputation. they left brutus at the gates of balak and went off into the hills. all this happened before i knew that peter was living in edelweiss. when i saw him here, i knew at once that his presence meant something sinister. i can put many things together that once puzzled me--the comings and goings of months, the secret reports and consultations, the queer looking men who came to the castle, the long absences of my husband and my--my own virtual imprisonment--yes, imprisonment. i was not permitted to leave the castle for days at a time during his absences." "surely you will not go back again"--he began hotly. "sh!" she put a finger to her lips. a man-servant was quietly crossing the hall just off the library. "he is a new man. i do not like his appearance." "do you think he heard us or observed anything? i can make short work of him if--" he paused significantly. she smiled up into his face. "he did not hear anything. we've frightened him off, if he intended to play the eavesdropper." the servant had disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. "then there were the great sums of money that my husband sent off from time to time, and the strange boxes that came overland to the castle and later went away again as secretly as they came. mr. tullis, i am confident in my mind that those boxes contained firearms and ammunition. i have thought it all out. perhaps i am wrong, but it seems to me that i can almost see those firearms stored away in the caves and cabins outside of edelweiss, ready for instant use when the signal comes." "god! an uprising? a plot so huge as that?" he gasped, amazed. it is fortunate that he was not facing the door; the same servant, passing once more, might have seen the tell-tale consternation in his eyes. "it cannot be possible! why, dangloss and his men would have scented it long ago." "i have not said that i am sure of anything, remember that. i leave it to you to analyse. you have the foundation on which to work. i'd advise you to waste no time. something tells me that the crisis is near at hand." "why should josepha's father tell these things to you?" "because, if you will pardon my frankness, i have protected his daughter against count marlanx. he understands. and yet he would not betray a trust imposed upon him even by the count. he has only told me what any one else might have seen with his own eyes. wait! the new servant is in the hall again." she clapped her hands sharply and called out "franz!" the new man appeared in the doorway almost on the instant. "you may replenish the fire, franz." the man, a sallow, precise fellow, crossed deliberately and poked the half dead fire; with scrupulous care he selected two great chunks of wood from the hopper near by and laid them on the coals, the others watching his movements with curious interest. there was nothing about the fellow to indicate that he was other than what he pretended to be. "isn't it strange that we should have fires in july?" she asked casually. "the mountain air and the night fogs make it absolutely necessary in these big old houses." "we had a jolly fire in the prince's room when i left the castle. our monarch is subject to croup, you see." "that is all, franz." the man bowed and left the room. "what do you think of him?" she asked, after a moment. "he has a very bad liver," was all tullis deigned to offer in response. the countess stared for a moment and then laughed understandingly. "i think he needs a change." "i have a strange feeling that he is but one of a great many men who are in edelweiss for the purposes i mentioned before. now i have a favour to ask of you. will you take this matter up with baron dangloss as if on your own initiative? do not mention me in any way. you can understand why i ask this of you. let them believe that the suspicions are yours. i trust you to present them without involving me." "trust me, my dear countess. i am a very diplomatic liar. you need have no fear. i shall find a quick way of getting my friend dangloss on the right track. it may be a wild goose chase, but it is best to be on the safe side. may i now tell you how greatly i appreciate your confidence in--" she stopped him with a glance. "no, you may not tell me. there is nothing more to be said." "i think i understand," he said gently. "let us change the subject. i have uttered my word to the wise. eh bien! it may not be so bad as i think. let us hope so, at least." "i have a vague notion that you'd rejoice if we should catch your ogre and chop his head off," said he, coolly lighting a fresh cigarette. she liked his assurance. he was not like other men. glancing up at his sandy thatch, she said, with a rueful droop at the corners of her mouth, a contradictory smile in her eyes: "i shall rejoice more if you do not lose your head afterwards." "_double entendre_?" "not at all." "i thought, perhaps, you referred to an unhappy plight that already casts its shadow before," he said boldly. "i may lose everything else, my dear countess, but _not_ my head." "i believe you," she said, strangely serious. "i shall remember that." she knew this man loved her. "sit down, now, and let us be comfy. we are quite alone," she added instantly, a sudden confusion coming over her. "first, will you give me that box of candy from the table? thank you so much for sending it to me. how in the world do you manage to get this wonderful new york candy all the way to graustark? it is quite fresh and perfectly delicious." "oh, fifth avenue isn't so far away as you think," he equivocated. "it's just around the corner--of the world. what's eight or nine thousand miles to a district messenger boy? i ring for one and he fetches the candy, before you can wink your eye or say jack robinson. it's a marvellous system." he watched her white teeth set themselves daintily in the rich nougat; then the red lips closed tranquilly only to open again in a smile of rapture. for reasons best known to himself, he chose not to risk losing the thing he had vowed not to lose. he turned his head--and carefully inspected the end of his cigarette. a wholly unnecessary precaution, as any one might have seen that it was behaving beautifully. her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she studied his averted face in that brief instant. when he turned to her again, she was resting her head against the back of the chair, and her eyes were closed as if in exquisite enjoyment of the morsel that lay behind her smiling lips. "are you enjoying it?" he asked. "tremendously," she replied, opening her eyes slowly. "'gad, i believe you are," he exclaimed. she sat up at once, and caught her breath, although he did not know it. his smile distinctly upset her tranquillity. "by the way," he added, as if dismissing the matter, "have you forgotten that on tuesday we go to the witch's hut in the hills? bobby has dingdonged it into me for days." "it will be good fun," she said. then, as a swift afterthought: "be sure that the bodyguard is strong--and true." chapter vii at the witch's hut the next morning, before setting forth to consult the minister of police at the tower, he called up the perse palace on the telephone and asked for the countess, to tell her in so many words that he had been followed from her door to the very gates of the castle grounds. not by one man alone, for that would have excited suspicion, but by half a dozen at least, each one taking up the surveillance in the most casual manner as the watcher before him left off. tullis was amazed by the cunning which masked these proceedings; there was a wily brain behind it. the duke's secretary answered the call. tullis was completely bowled over by the curt information that the countess marlanx had left edelweiss before six that morning, to join her husband, who was shooting wild boars with a party in axphain. "when does she return?" demanded the american, scarcely believing his ears. she had said nothing of this the night before. what could it mean? "i do not know, sir." "in a day or two?" "she took sixteen trunks, sir," was the laconic reply, as if that told the story in full. "well, i'm damned!" "i beg pardon, sir!" "i beg _your_ pardon. good morning." * * * * * in the meantime, our excellent young friend, truxton king, was having a sorry time of it. it all began when he went to the cathedral in the hope of seeing the charming aunt of the little prince once more. not only did he attend one service, but all of them, having been assured that the royal family worshipped there quite as regularly and as religiously as the lowliest communicant. she did not appear. more than all this, he met with fresh disappointment when he ambled down to the armourer's shop. the doors were locked and there was no sign of life about the shuttered place. the cafés were closed on this day of rest, so there was nothing left for him to do but to slink off to his room in the regengetz, there to read or to play solitaire and to curse the progress of civilisation. monday was little better than sunday. hobbs positively refused to escort him to the castle grounds again. no amount of bribing or browbeating could move the confounded englishman from his stand. he was willing to take him anywhere else, but never again would he risk a personally conducted tour into hot waters royal. mr. king resigned himself to a purely business call at the shop of mr. spantz. he looked long, with a somewhat shifty eye, at the cabinet of ancient rings and necklaces, and then departed without having seen the interesting miss platanova. if the old man observed a tendency to roam in the young man's eye, he did not betray the fact--at least not so that any one could notice. truxton departed, but returned immediately after luncheon, vaguely inclined to decide between two desirable rings. after a protracted period of indecision, in which olga remained stubbornly out of sight, he announced that he could not make up his mind, and would return later for another inspection. at his room in the hotel, he found a note addressed to himself. it did not have much to say, but it meant a great deal. there was no signature, and the handwriting was that of a woman. "_please do not come again_." that was all. he laughed with a fine tone of defiance and--went back to the shop at five o'clock, just to prove that nothing so timid as a note could stop him. this, however, was after he had taken a long walk down castle avenue, with a supplementary stroll of little incident outside the grim, high walls that enclosed the grounds. if any one had told him that he was secretly hoping to find a crevasse through which he could invade paradise, i make no doubt he would have resented the imputation soundly. on the occasion of this last visit to the shop, he did not stay long, but went away somewhat dazed to find himself the possessor of a ring he did not want and out of pocket just thirty dollars, american. having come to the conclusion that knight-errantry of that kind was not only profligate but distinctly irritating to his sense of humour, he looked up mr. hobbs and arranged for a day's ride in the mountains. "you'll oblige me, mr. hobbs, by removing that band from your cap. i know you're an interpreter. it's an insult to my intelligence to have it flaunted in my face all day long. i'll admit you're what you say you are, so take it off before we start out to-morrow." and so, minus the beguiling insignia of office, mr. hobbs led his hypercritical patron into the mountain roads early the next morning, both well mounted and provided with a luncheon large enough to restore the amiability that was sure to flag at mid-day unless sustained by unæsthetic sandwiches and beer. the day was bright and clear, warm in the valley where the city lay, cooler to cold as one mounted the winding roads that led past the lofty monastery of st. valentine, sombre sentinel among the clouds. a part of edelweiss is built along the side of the mountain, its narrow streets winding upward and past countless terraces to the very base of the rocky, jagged eminence at whose top, a full mile above the last sprinkling of houses, stands the isolated, bleak monastery. the view from these upper streets, before one enters the circuitous and hidden monastery road that winds afar in its climb, is never to be forgotten by the spectator, no matter how often he traverses the lofty thoroughfares. as far as the eye can reach, lies the green valley, through which winds the silvery river with its evergreen banks and spotless white houses-greens and whites that almost shame the vaunted tints of old ireland as one views them from the incoming steamers. immediately below one's feet lies the compact little city, with its red roofs and green chimney pots, its narrow streets and vivid awnings, its wide avenues and the ancient castle to the north. to the south, the fortress and the bridges; encircling the city a thick, high wall with here and there enormous gates flanked by towers so grim and old that they seem ready to topple over from the sheer fatigue of centuries. a soft, indian summer haze hangs over the lazy-lit valley; it is always so in the summer time. outside the city walls stretch the wheat-fields and the meadows, the vineyards and orchards, all snug in the nest of forest-crowned hills, whose lower slopes are spotted with broken herds of cattle and the more mobile flocks of sheep. an air of tranquillity lies low over the entire vista; one dozes if he looks long into this peaceful bowl of plenty. from the distant passes in the mountains to the east and north come the dull intonations of dynamite blasts, proving the presence of that disturbing element of progress which is driving the railroad through the unbroken heart of the land. it is a good three hours' ride to the summit of monastery mountain. and, after the height has been attained, one does not care to linger long among the chilly, whistling crags, with their snow-crevasses and bitter winds; the utter loneliness, the aloofness of this frost-crowned crest appals, disheartens one who loves the fair, green things of life. in the shelter of the crags, at the base of the monastery walls, looking out over the sunlit valley, one has his luncheon and his snack of spirits quite undisturbed, for the monks pay no heed to him. they are not hospitable, neither are they unfriendly. one seldom sees them. truxton king and mr. hobbs were not long in disposing of their lunch. it was too cold for comfort in their draughty dining-room, and they were not invited to enter the inhospitable gates. in half an hour they were wending their way down the north side of the peak by gradually declining roads, headed for the much-talked-of home of the witch in ganlook gap, some six miles from edelweiss as the crow flies, but twice that distance over the tortuous bridle paths and post roads. it was three o'clock when they clattered down the stone road and up to the forbidding vale in which lurked, like an evil, guilty thing, the log-built home of that ancient female who made no secret of her practices in witchcraft. the hut stood back from the mountain road a hundred yards or more, at the head of a small, thicket-grown recess. a low, thatched roof protruded from the hill against which the hut was built. as a matter of fact, a thin chimney grew out of the earth itself, for all the world like a smoking tree stump. the hovel was a squalid, beggary thing that might have been built over night somewhere back in the dark ages. its single door was so low that one was obliged to stoop to enter the little room where the dame had been holding forth for three-score years, 'twas said. this was her throne-room, her dining-room, her bed-chamber, her all, it would seem, unless one had been there before and knew that her kitchen was beyond, in the side of the hill. the one window, sans glass, looked narrowly out upon an odd opening in the foliage below, giving the occupant of the hut an unobstructed view of the winding road that led up from edelweiss. the door faced the monastery road down which the two men had just ridden. as for the door yard, it was no more than a pebbly, avalanche-swept opening among the trees and rocks, down which in the glacial age perhaps a thousand torrents had leaped, but which was now so dry and white and lifeless that one could only think of bones bleached and polished by a sun that had sickened of the work a thousand years ago. this brief, inadequate description of the witch's hut is given in advance of the actual descent of the personally conducted gentleman for the somewhat ambiguous reason that he was to find it not at all as described. the two horsemen rode into the glen and came plump upon a small detachment of the royal guard, mounted and rather resolute in their lack of amiability. "wot's this?" gasped mr. hobbs, drawing rein at the edge of the pebbly dooryard. "soldiers, i'd say," remarked mr. king, scowling quite glumly from beneath the rim of his panama. "hello!" his eyes brightened and his hat came off with a switch. "there's the prince!" "my word," ejaculated mr. hobbs, and forthwith began to ransack his pockets for the band which said he was from cook's. farther up the glen, in fact at the very door of the witch's hut, were gathered a small but rather distinguished portion of the royal household. it was not difficult to recognise the little prince. he was standing beside john tullis; and it is not with a desire to speak ill of his valour that we add: he was clutching the slackest part of that gentleman's riding breeks with an earnestness that betrayed extreme trepidation. facing them, on the stone door-step, was the witch herself, a figure to try the courage of a time-tried hero, let alone the susceptibilities of a small boy in knickers. behind tullis and the prince were several ladies and gentlemen, all in riding garments and all more or less ill at ease. truxton king's heart swelled suddenly; all the world grew bright again for him. next to the tall figure of colonel quinnox, of the royal guard, was the slim, entrancing lady of his most recent dreams--the prince's aunt! the lady of the grotto! the lady of the goldfish conspiracy! the countess marlanx, tall and exquisite, was a little apart from the others, with baron dangloss and young count vos engo--whom truxton was ready to hate because he was a recognised suitor for the hand of the slim, young person in grey. he thought he had liked her beyond increase in the rajah silk, but now he confessed to himself that he was mistaken. he liked her better in a grey riding habit. it struck him sharply, as he sat there in the saddle, that she would be absolutely and adorably faultless in point lace or calico, in silk or gingham, low-neck or high. he was for riding boldly up to this little group, but a very objectionable lieutenant barred the way, supported in no small measure by the defection of mr. hobbs, who announced in a hoarse, agitated whisper that he's "be 'anged if he'd let any man make a fool of him twice over." the way was made easy by the intervention of the alert young woman in grey. she caught sight of the restricted adventurers--or one of them, to be quite accurate--and, after speeding a swift smile of astonishment, turned quickly to prince bobby. a moment later, the tall stranger with the sun-browned face was the centre of interest to the small group at the door. he bowed amiably to the smiling young person in grey and received a quick nod in response. as he was adventuring what he considered to be a proper salute for the prince, he observed that a few words passed between the lad's aunt and john tullis, who was now surveying him with some interest. the prince broke the ice. "hello!" he cried shrilly, his little face aglow. "hello!" responded the gentleman, readily. john tullis found himself being dragged away from the witch's door toward the newcomer at the bottom of the glen. mr. hobbs listened with deepening awe to the friendly conversation which resulted in truxton king going forward to join the party in front of the hut. he came along in the rear, after having tethered the tired horses, not quite sure that he was awake. the prince had called him mr. cook, had asked him how his sons were, all of which was highly gratifying when one pauses to consider that he had got his cap band on upside down in his excitement. he always was to wonder how the little monarch succeeded in reading the title without standing on his head to do so. truxton was duly presented to the ladies and gentlemen of the party by john tullis, who gracefully announced that he knew king's parents in new york. baron dangloss was quite an old friend, if one were to judge by the manner in which he greeted the young man. the lady in grey smiled so sweetly and nodded so blithely, that tullis, instead of presenting king to her as he had done to the countess marlanx and others, merely said: "and you know one another, of course." whereupon she flushed very prettily and felt constrained to avoid truxton's look of inquiry. he did not lose his wits, but vowed acquiescence and assumed that he knew. as a result of the combined supplications of the entire party, the old woman grudgingly consented to take them into her hovel, where, in exchange for small pieces of silver, she would undertake certain manifestations in necromancy. truxton king, scarcely able to believe his good fortune, crowded into the loathsome, squalid room with his aristocratic companions, managing, with considerable skill, to keep close beside his charming friend. they stood back while the others crowded up to the table where the hag occupied herself with the crystal ball. never had truxton looked upon a creature who so thoroughly vindicated the life-long reliance he had put in the description of witches given by the fairy-tale tellers of his earliest youth. she had the traditional hook-nose and peaked chin, the glittering eyes, the thousand wrinkles and the toothless gums. he looked about for the raven and the cat, but if she had them, they were not in evidence. at a rough guess, he calculated her age at one hundred years. a youth of extreme laziness, who baron dangloss said was the old woman's grandson, appeared to be her man-of-all-work. he fetched the old woman's crystal, placed stools for the visitors, lighted the candles on the table, occupying no less than a quarter of an hour in performing these simple acts, so awkward that at least two of his observers giggled openly and whispered their opinions. "gruesome lady, isn't she?" whispered king. "i shall dream of her for months," whispered the lady in grey, shuddering. "are you willing to have her read your future in that ball?" "do you really think she can tell?" "i once had a fortune-teller say that i would be married before i was twenty-three," he informed her. she appeared interested. "and were you?" "no. but she did her part, you know--the fortune-teller, i mean." "she warned you. i see. so it really wasn't her fault." she was watching the preparations at the table with eager eyes, her lips parted and her breath coming quick through excitement. "would you mind telling me how i am to address you?" whispered king. they were leaning against the mud-plastered wall near the little window, side by side. the whimsical smile that every one loved to see was on his lips, in his eyes. "you see, i'm a stranger in a strange land. that accounts for my ignorance." "you must not speak while she is gazing into the crystal," she warned, after a quick, searching glance at his face. he could have sworn that he saw a gleam of concern in her eyes, followed instantly by a twinkle that meant mischief. "please consider my plight," he implored. "i can't call you aunt loraine, you know." she laughed silently and turned her head to devote her entire attention to the scene at the table. truxton king was in a sudden state of trepidation. had he offended her? there was a hot rush of blood to his ears. he missed the sly, wondering glance that she gave him out of the corner of her eye a moment later. although it was broad daylight, the low, stuffy room would have been pitch dark had it not been for the flickering candles on the table beside the bent, grey head of the mumbling fortune-teller, whose bony fingers twitched over and about the crystal globe like wiggling serpents' tails. the window gave little or no light and the door was closed, the grinning grandson leaning against it limply. the picture was a weird, uncanny one, despite the gay, lightsome appearance of the visitors. the old woman, in high, shrill tones, had commanded silence. the men obeyed with a grim scepticism, while the women seemed really awed by their surroundings. the witch began by reading the fortune of john tullis, who had been pushed forward by the wide-eyed prince. in a cackling monotone she rambled through a supposititious history of his past, for the chief part so unintelligible that even he could not gainsay the statements. later, she bent her piercing eyes upon the prince and refused to read his future, shrilly asserting that she had not the courage to tell what might befall the little ruler, all the while muttering something about the two little princes who had died in a tower ages and ages ago. seeing that the boy was frightened, tullis withdrew him to the background. the countess marlanx, who had returned that morning to edelweiss as mysteriously as she had left, came next. she was smiling derisively. "you have just returned from a visit to some one whom you hate," began the witch. "he is your husband. you will marry again. there is a fair-haired man in love with you. you are in love with him. i can see trouble--" but the countess deliberately turned away from the table, her cheeks flaming with the consciousness that a smile had swept the circle behind her graceful back. "ridiculous," she said, and avoided john tullis's gaze. "i don't care to hear any more. come, baron you are next." truxton king, subdued and troubled in his mind, found himself studying his surroundings and the people who went so far to make them interesting. he glanced from time to time at the delicate, eager profile of the girl beside him; at the soft, warm cheek and the caressing brown hair; at the little ear and the white slim neck of her--and realised just what had happened to him. he had fallen in love; that was the plain upshot of it. it had come to pass, just as he had hoped it would in his dearest dreams. he was face to face with the girl of royal blood that the story books had created for him long, long ago, and he was doing just what he had always intended to do: falling heels over head and hopelessly in love with her. never had he seen hair grow so exquisitely about the temples and neck as this one's hair--but, just to confound his budding singleness of interest, his gaze at that instant wandered off and fell upon something that caused him to stare hard at a certain spot far removed from the coiffure of a fair and dainty lady. his eye had fallen upon a crack in the door that led to the kitchen, although he had no means of knowing that it was a kitchen. to his amazement, a gleaming eye was looking out upon the room from beyond this narrow crack. he looked long and found that he was not mistaken. there was an eye, glued close to the opposite side of the rickety door, and its gaze was directed to the countess marlanx. the spirit of adventure, recklessness, bravado--whatever you may choose to call it--flared high in the soul of this self-despised outsider. he could feel a strange thrill of exaltation shooting through his veins; he knew as well as he knew anything that he was destined to create commotion in that stately crowd, even against his better judgment. the desire to spring forward and throw open the door, thus exposing a probable con-federate, was stronger than he had the power to resist. even as he sought vainly to hold himself in check, he became conscious that the staring eye was meeting his own in a glare of realisation. without pausing to consider the result of his action, he sprang across the room, shouting as he did so that there was a man behind the door. grasping the latch, he threw the door wide open, the others in the room looking at him as if he were suddenly crazed. he had expected to confront the owner of that basilisk eye. there was not a sign of a human being in sight. beyond was a black little room, at the back of which stood an old cooking stove with a fire going and a kettle singing. he leaped through, prepared to grasp the mysterious watcher, but, to his utter amazement, the kitchen was absolutely empty, save for inanimate things. his surprise was so genuine that it was not to be mistaken by the men who leaped to his side. he had time to note that two of them carried pistols in their hands, and that tullis and quinnox had placed themselves between the prince and possible danger. there was instant commotion, with cries and exclamations from all. quick as the others were, the old woman was at his side before them, snarling with rage. her talon-like fingers sunk into his arm, and her gaze went darting about the room in a most convincing way. some minutes passed before the old woman could be quieted. then king explained his action. he swore solemnly, if sheepishly, that he could not have been mistaken, and yet the owner of that eye had vanished as if swallowed up by the mountain. baron dangloss was convinced that the young man had seen the eye. without compunction he began a search of the room, the old woman looking on with a grin of glee. "search! search!" she croaked. "it was the spirit eye! it is looking at you now, my fine baron! it finds you, yet cannot be found. no, no! oh, you fools! get out! get out! all of you! prince or no prince, i fear you not, nor all your armies. this is my home! my castle! go! go!" "there was a man here, old woman," said the baron coolly. "where is he? what is your game? i am not to be fooled by these damnable tricks of yours. where is the man?" she laughed aloud, a horrid sound. the prince clutched tullis by the leg in terror. "brace up, bobby," whispered his big friend, leaning down to comfort him. "be a man!" "it--it's mighty hard," chattered bobby, but he squared his little shoulders. the ladies of the party had edged forward, peering into the kitchen, alarm having passed, although the exclamation "boo!" would have played havoc with their courage. "i swear there was some one looking through that crack," protested king, wiping his brow in confusion. "miss--er--i should say--_you_ could have seen it from where you stood," he pleaded, turning to the lady in grey. "dear me, i wish i had," she cried. "i've always wanted to see some one snooping." "there is no window, no trap door, no skylight," remarked the baron, puzzled. "nothing but the stovepipe, six inches in diameter. a man couldn't crawl out through that, i'm sure. mr. king, we've come upon a real mystery. the eye without a visible body." "i'm sure i saw it," reiterated truxton. the prince's aunt was actually laughing at him. but so was the witch, for that matter. he didn't mind the witch. suddenly the old woman stepped into the middle of the room and began to wave her hands in a mysterious manner over an empty pot that stood on the floor in front of the stove. the others drew back, watching her with the greatest curiosity. a droning song oozed from the thin lips; the gesticulations grew in weirdness and fervor. then, before their startled eyes, a thin film of smoke began to rise from the empty pot. it grew in volume until the room was quite dense with it. even more quickly than it began, it disappeared, drawn apparently by some supernatural agency into the draft of the stove and out through the rickety chimney pipe. even dangloss blinked his eyes, and not because they were filled with smoke. a deafening crash, as of many guns, came to their ears from the outside. with one accord the entire party rushed to the outer door, a wild laugh from the hag pursuing them. "there!" she screamed. "there goes all there was of him! and so shall we all go some day. fire and smoke!" not one there but thought on the instant of the arabian nights and the genii who went up in smoke--those never-to-be-forgotten tales of wonder. just outside the door stood lieutenant saffo of the guard, his hand to his cap. he was scarcely distinguishable, so dark had the day become. "good lord!" shouted tullis. "what's the matter? what has happened?" "the storm, sir," said saffo. "it is coming down the valley like the wind." a great crash of thunder burst overhead and lightning darted through the black, swirling skies. "very sudden, sir," added mr. hobbs from behind. "like a puff of wind, sir." the witch stood in the door behind them, smiling as amiably as it was possible for her to smile. "come in," she said. "there's room for all of you. the spirits have gone. ha, ha! my merry man! even the eye is gone. come in, your highness. accept the best i can offer--shelter from the hurricane. i've seen many, but this looks to be the worst. so it came sudden, eh? ha, ha!" the roar of wind and rain in the trees above seemed like a howl of confirmation. into the hovel crowded the dismayed pleasure-seekers, followed by the soldiers, who had made the horses fast at the first sign of the storm. down came the rain in torrents, whisked and driven, whirled and shot by the howling winds, split by the lightning and urged to greater glee by the deafening applause of the thunder. apple carts in the skies! out in the dooryard the merry grandson of the witch was dancing as if possessed by revelling devils. chapter viii looking for an eye "washing the dead men's bones," was the remark king made a few minutes later. the storm was at its height; the sheets of rain that swept down the pebbly glen elicited the gruesome sentence. he stood directly behind the quaking loraine, quite close to the open door; there is no doubt that the observation was intended for her ears, maliciously or otherwise. she gave him an awed glance, but no verbal response. it was readily to be seen that she was terrified by the violence of the mountain tornado. as if to shame him for the frivolous remark, she suddenly changed her position, putting herself behind him. "i like that," he remonstrated, emboldened by the elements. "you leave me in front to be struck by the first bolt of lightning that comes along. and i a stranger, too." "isn't it awful?" she murmured, her fingers in her ears, her eyes tightly closed. "do you think we'll be struck?" "certainly not," he assured her. "this is a charmed spot. it's a frolic of her particular devils. she waves her hand: all the goblins and thunder-workers in this neck of the woods hustle up to see what's the matter. then there's an awful rumpus. in a minute or two she'll wave her hand and--presto! it will stop raining. but," with a distressed look out into the thick of it, "it would be a beastly joke if lightning should happen to strike that nag of mine. i'd not only have to walk to town, but i'd have to pay three prices for the brute." "i think she's perfectly--ooh!--perfectly wonderful. goodness, that was a crash! where do you think it struck?" "if you'll stand over here a little closer i'll point out the tree. see? right down the ravine there? see the big limb swaying? that's the place. the old lady is carrying her joke too far. that's pretty close home. stand right there, please. i won't let it rain in on you." "you are very good, mr. king. i--i've always thought i loved a storm. ooh! but this is too terrible! aren't you really afraid you'll be struck? thanks, ever so much." he had squared himself between her and the door, turning his back upon the storm: but not through cowardice, as one might suppose. "don't mention it. i won't mind it so much, don't you know, if i get struck in the back. how long ago did you say it was that you went to school with my sister?" all this time the witch was haranguing her huddled audience, cursing the soldiers, laughing gleefully in the faces of her stately, scornful guests, greatly to the irritation of baron dangloss, toward whom she showed an especial attention. tullis was holding the prince in his arms. colonel quinnox stood before them, keeping the babbling, leering beldame from thrusting her face close to that of the terrified boy. young vos engo glowered at truxton king from the opposite side of the room. mr. hobbs had safely ensconced himself in the rear of the six guardsmen, who stood near the door, ready to dash forth if by any chance the terrified horses should succeed in breaking away. the countess marlanx, pale and rigid, her wondrous eyes glowing with excitement, stood behind john tullis, straight and strong, like a storm spirit glorying in the havoc that raged about her. time and again she leaned forward to utter words of encouragement in the ear of the little prince, never without receiving a look of gratitude and surprise from his tall protector. and all this time the goose-herd grandson of the witch was dancing his wild, uncanny solo in the thick of the brew, an exalted grin on his face, strange cries of delight breaking from his lips: a horrid spectacle that fascinated the observers. with incredible swiftness the storm passed. almost at its height, there came a cessation of the roaring tempest; the downpour was checked, the thunder died away and the lightning trickled off into faint flashes. the sky cleared as if by magic. the exhibition, if you please, was over! even the most stoical, unimpressionable men in the party looked at each other in bewilderment and--awe, there was no doubt of it. the glare that dangloss bent upon the hag proved that he had been rudely shaken from his habitual complacency. "it is the most amazing thing i've ever seen," he said, over and over again. the countess marlanx was trembling violently. tullis, observing this, tried to laugh away her nervousness. "mere coincidence, that's all," he said. "surely you are not superstitious. you can't believe she brought about this storm?" "it isn't that," she said in a low voice. "i feel as if a grave personal danger had just passed me by. not danger for the rest of you, but for me alone. that is the sensation i have: the feeling of one who has stepped back from the brink of an abyss just in time to avoid being pushed over. i can't make you understand. see! i am trembling. i have seen no more than the rest of you, yet am more terrified, more upset than robin, poor child. perhaps i am foolish. i _know_ that something dreadful has--i might say, touched me. something that no one else could have seen or felt." "nerves, my dear countess. shadows! i used to see them and feel them when i was a lad no bigger than bobby if left alone in the dark. it is a grown-up fear of goblins. you'll be over it as soon as we are outside." ten minutes later the cavalcade started down the rain-swept road toward the city, dry blankets having been placed across the saddles occupied by the ladies and the prince. the witch stood in her doorway, laughing gleefully, inviting them to come often. "come again, your highness," she croaked sarcastically. "the next time i come, it will be with a torch to burn you alive!" shouted back dangloss. to tullis he added: "'gad, sir, they did well to burn witches in your town of salem. you cleared the country of them, the pests." darkness was approaching fast among the sombre hills; the great pass was enveloped in the mists and the gloaming of early night. in a compact body the guardsmen rode close about prince robin and his friend. ingomede had urged this upon tullis, still oppressed by the feeling of disaster that had come over her in the hovel. "it means something, my friend, it means something," she insisted. "i feel it--i am sure of it." riding quite close beside him, she added in lower tones: "i was with my husband no longer ago than yesterday. do you know that i believe it is count marlanx that i feel everywhere about me now? _he_--his presence--is in the air! oh, i wish i could make you feel as i do." "you haven't told me why you ran away on sunday," he said, abruptly, dismissing her argument with small ceremony. "he sent for me. i--i had to go." there was a new, strange expression in her eyes that puzzled him for a long time. suddenly the solution came: she was completely captive to the will of this hated husband. the realisation brought a distinct, sickening shock with it. down through the lowering shades rode the prince's party, swiftly, even gaily by virtue of relaxation from the strain of a weird half hour. no one revealed the slightest sign of apprehension arising from the mysterious demonstration in which nature had taken a hand. truxton king was holding forth, with cynical good humour, for the benefit, if not the edification of baron dangloss, with whom he rode--mr. hobbs galloping behind not unlike the faithful sancho of another quixote's day. "it's all tommy-rot, baron," said truxton. "we've got a dozen stage wizards in new york who can do all she did and then some. that smoke from the kettle is a corking good trick--but that's all it is, take my word for it. the storm? why, you know as well as i do, baron, that she can't bring rain like that. if she could, they'd have her over in the united states right now, saving the crops, with or without water. that was chance. hobbs told me this morning it looked like rain. by the way, i must apologise to him. i said he was a crazy kill-joy. the thing that puzzles me is what became of the owner of that eye. i'll stake my life on it, i saw an eye. 'gad, it looked right into mine. queerest feeling it gave me." "ah, that's it, my young friend. what became of the eye? poof! and it is gone. we searched immediately. no sign. it is most extraordinary." "i'll admit it's rather gruesome, but--i say, do you know i've a mind to look into that matter if you don't object, baron. it's a game of some sort. she's a wily old dame, but i think if we go about it right we can catch her napping and expose the whole game. i'm going back there in a day or two and try to get at the bottom of it. that confounded eye worries me. she's laughing up her sleeve at us, too, you know." "i should advise you to keep away from her, my friend. granted she has tricked us: why not? it is her trade. she does no harm--except that she's most offensively impudent. and i rather imagine she'll resent your investigation, if you attempt it. i can't say that i'd blame her." the baron laughed. "baron, it struck me a bit shivery at the time, but i want to say to you now that the eye that i saw at the crack was not that of an idle peeper, nor was it a mere fakir's substitute. it was as malevolent as the devil and it glared--do you understand? glared! it didn't _peep!_" truxton king, for reasons best known to himself, soon relapsed into a thoughtful, contemplative silence. between us, he was sorely vexed and disappointed. when the gallant start was made from the glen of "dead men's bones," he found that he was to be cast utterly aside, quite completely ignored by the fair loraine. she rode off with young count vos engo without so much as a friendly wave of the hand to him. he said it over to himself several times: "not even a friendly wave of her hand." it was as if she had forgotten his existence, or--merciful powers! what was worse--as if she took this way of showing him his place. of course, that being her attitude, he glumly found his place--which turned out rather ironically to be under the eye of a police officer--and made up his mind that he would stay there. vos engo, being an officer in the royal guard, rode ahead by order of colonel quinnox. truxton, therefore, had her back in view--at rather a vexing distance, too--for mile after mile of the ride to the city. not so far ahead, however, that he could not observe every movement of her light, graceful figure as she swept down the king's highway. she was a perfect horsewoman, firm, jaunty, free. somehow he knew, without seeing, that a stray brown wisp of hair caressed her face with insistent adoration: he could see her hand go up from time to time to brush it back--just as if it were not a happy place for a wisp of hair. perhaps--he shivered with the thought of it--perhaps it even caressed her lips. ah, who would not be a wisp of brown hair! he galloped along beside the baron, a prey to gloomy considerations. what was the use? he had no chance to win her. that was for story-books and plays. she belonged to another world--far above his. and even beyond that, she was not likely to be attracted by such a rude, ungainly, sunburned lout as he, with such chaps about as vos engo, or that what's-his-name fellow, or a dozen others whom he had seen. confound it all, she was meant for a prince, or an archduke. what chance had he? but she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen. yes; she was the golden girl of his dreams. within his grasp, so to speak, and yet he could not hope to seize her, after all. was she meant for that popinjay youth with the petulant eye and the sullen jaw? was he to be the lucky man, this vos engo? the baron's dry, insinuating voice broke in upon the young man's thoughts. "i think it's pretty well understood that she's going to marry him." the little old minister had been reading king's thoughts; he had the satisfaction of seeing his victim start guiltily. it was on the tip of truxton's tongue to blurt out: "how the devil did you know what i was thinking about?" but he managed to control himself, asking instead, with bland interest: "indeed? is it a good match, baron?" the baron smiled. "i think so. he has been a trifle wild, but i believe he has settled down. splendid family. he is desperately in love, as you may have noted." "i hadn't thought much about it. is she in love with him?" "she sees a great deal of him," was the diplomatic answer. truxton considered well for a minute or two, and then bluntly asked: "would you mind telling me just who she is, baron? what is her name?" dangloss was truly startled. he gave the young man a quick, penetrating glance; then a set, hard expression came into his eyes. "do you mean, sir, that you don't know her?" he asked, almost harshly. "i don't know her name." "and you had the effrontery to--my excellent friend, you amaze me. i can't believe it of you. why, sir, how dare you say this to me? i know that americans are bold, but, by gad, sir, i've always looked upon them as gentlemen. you--" "hold on, baron dangloss," interrupted truxton, very red in the face. "don't say it, please. you'd better hear my side of the story first. she went to school with my sister. she knows me, but, confound it, sir, she refuses to tell me who she is. do you think that is fair? now, i'll tell you how it came about." he related the story of the goldfish and the pinhook. the baron smiled comfortably to himself, a sphinx-like expression coming into his beady eyes as he stared steadily on ahead; her trim grey back seemed to encourage his admiring smile. "well, my boy, if she elects to keep you in the dark concerning her name, it is not for me to betray her," he said at the end of the recital. "ladies in her position, i dare say, enjoy these little mysteries. if she wants you to know, she'll tell you. perhaps it would be well for you to be properly, officially presented to her hi--to the young lady. your countryman, mr. tullis, will be glad to do so, i fancy. but let me suggest: don't permit your ingenuousness to get the better of you again. she's having sport with you on account of it. we all know her propensities." it was dusk when they entered the northern gates. above the castle, king said good-bye to tullis and the countess, gravely saluted the sleepy prince, and followed mr. hobbs off to the heart of the city. he was hot with resentment. either she had forgotten to say good-bye to him or had wilfully decided to ignore him altogether; at any rate, she entered the gates to the castle grounds without so much as an indifferent glance in his direction. truxton knew in advance that he was to have a sleepless, unhappy night. in his room at the hotel he found the second anonymous letter, unquestionably from the same source, but this time printed in crude, stilted letters. it had been stuck under the door, together with some letters that had been forwarded from teheran. "_leave the city at once. you are in great danger. save yourself_!" this time he did not laugh. that it was from olga platanova he made no doubt. but why she should interest herself so persistently in his welfare was quite beyond him, knowing as he did that in no sense had he appealed to her susceptibility. and what, after all, could she mean by "great danger"? "save yourself!" he sat for a long time considering the situation. at last he struck the window sill a resounding thwack with his fist and announced his decision to the silent, disinterested wall opposite. "i'll take her advice. i'll get out. not because i'm afraid to stay, but because there's no use. she's got no eyes for me. i'm a plain impossibility so far as she's concerned. it's vos engo--damn little rat! old dangloss came within an ace of speaking of her as 'her highness.' that's enough for me. that means she's a princess. it's all very nice in novels, but in real life men don't go about picking up any princess they happen to like. no, sir! i might just as well get out while i can. she treated me as if i were a yellow dog to-day--after i'd been damned agreeable to her, too, standing between her and the lightning. i might have been struck. i wonder if she would have been grateful. no; she wouldn't. she'd have smiled her sweetest, and said: "wasn't it lucky?" he picked up the note once more. "if i were a storybook hero, i'd stick this thing in my pocket and set out by myself to unravel the mystery behind it. but i've chucked the hero job for good and all. i'm going to hand this over to dangloss. it's the sensible thing to do, even if it isn't what a would-be hero in search of a princess aught to do. what's more, i'll hunt the baron up this very hour. hope it doesn't get olga into trouble." he indulged in another long spell of thoughtfulness. "no, by george, i'll not turn tail at the first sign of danger. i'll stay here and assist dangloss in unravelling this matter. and i'll go up to that witch's hole before i'm a day older to have it out with her. i'll find out where the smoke came from and i'll know where that eye went to." he sighed without knowing it. "by jove, i'd like to do something to show her i'm not the blooming duffer she thinks i am." he could not find baron dangloss that night, nor early the next day. hobbs, after being stigmatised as the only british coward in the world, changed his mind and made ready to accompany king to the hovel in ganlook gap. by noon the streets in the vicinity of the plaza were filled with strange, rough-looking men, undeniably labourers. "who are they?" demanded king, as they rode past a particularly sullen, forbidding crowd at the corner below the city hail. "there's a strike on among the men who are building the railroad," said hobbs. "ugly looking crowd, eh?" "a strike? 'gad, it's positively homelike." "i heard a bit ago that the matter has been adjusted. they go back to work to-morrow, slight increase in pay and a big decrease in work. they were to have had their answer to-day. mr. tullis, i hear, was instrumental in having the business settled without a row." "they'd better look out for these fellows," said king, very soberly. "i don't like the appearance of 'em. they look like cut-throats." "take my word for it, sir, they are. they're the riff-raff of all europe. you should have seen them of a sunday, sir, before the order went out closing the drinking places on that day. my word, they took the town. there was no living here for the decent people. women couldn't go out of their houses." "i hope baron dangloss knows how to handle them?" in some anxiety. "by the way, remind me to look up the baron just as soon as we get back to town this evening." "if we ever get back!" muttered the unhappy mr. hobbs. prophetic lamentation! in due time they rode into the sombre solitudes of ganlook gap and up to the witch's glen. here mr. hobbs balked. he refused to adventure farther than the mouth of the stony ravine. truxton approached the hovel alone, without the slightest trepidation. the goose-herd grandson was driving a flock of geese across the green bowl below the cabin. the american called out to him and a moment later the youth, considerably excited, drove his geese up to the door. he could understand no english, nor could truxton make out what he was saying in the native tongue. while they were vainly haranguing each other the old woman appeared at the edge of the thicket above the hut. uttering shrill exclamations, she hurried down to confront king with blazing eyes. he fell back, momentarily dismayed. her horrid grin of derision brought a flush to his cheek; he faced her quite coolly. "i'll lay you a hundred gavvos that the kettle and smoke experiment is a fake of the worst sort," he announced, after a somewhat lengthy appeal to be allowed to enter the hut as a simple seeker after knowledge. "have it your own way! have it your own way!" she cackled. "tell you what i'll do; if i can't expose that trick in ten minutes, i'll make you a present of a hundred gavvos." she took him up like a flash, a fact which startled and disconcerted him not a little. her very eagerness augured ill for his proposition. still, he was in for it; he was determined to get inside the hut and solve the mystery, if it were possible. exposure of the witch would at least attract the interest if not the approval of a certain young lady in purple and fine linen. that was surely worth while. with a low, mocking bow, the shrivelled hag stood aside and motioned for him to precede her into the hovel. he looked back at mr. hobbs. that gentleman's eyes seemed to be starting from his head. "a hundred gavvos is a fortune not easily to be won," said the old dame. "how can i be sure that you will pay me if you lose?" "it is in my pocket, madam. if i don't pay, you may instruct your excellent grandson to crack me over the head. he looks as though he'd do it for a good deal less money, i'll say that for him." "he is honest--as honest as his grandmother," cried the old woman. she bestowed a toothless grin upon him. "now what is it you want to do?" they were standing in the centre of the wretched living-room. the goose-boy was in the door, looking on with strangely alert, questioning eyes, ever and anon peering over his shoulder toward the spot where hobbs stood with the horses. he seldom took his gaze from the face of the old woman, a rat-like smile touching the corners of his fuzz-lined lips. "i want to go through that kitchen, just to satisfy myself of one or two things." king was looking hard at the crack in the kitchen door. suddenly he started as if shot. the staring, burning eye was again looking straight at him from the jagged crack in the door! "i'll get you this time," he shouted, crossing the room in two eager leaps. the door responded instantly to his violent clutch, swung open with a bang, and disclosed the interior of the queer little kitchen. the owner of that mocking, phantom eye was gone! like a frantic dog, truxton dashed about the little kitchen, looking in every corner, every crack for signs of the thing he chased. at last he paused, baffled, mystified. the old woman was standing in the middle of the outer room, grinning at him with what was meant for complacency, but which struck him at once as genuine malevolence. "ha, ha!" she croaked. "you fool! you fool! search! smell him out! all the good it will do you! ha, ha!" "by gad, i _will_ get at the bottom of this!" shouted truxton, stubborn rage possessing him. "there's some one here, and i know it. i'm not such a fool as to believe--say! what's that? the ceiling! by the eternal, that scraping noise explains it! there's where the secret trap-door is--in the ceiling! within arm's reach, at that! watch me, old woman! i'll have your spry friend out of his nest in the shake of a lamb's tail." the hag was standing in the kitchen door now, still grinning evilly. she watched the eager young man pound upon the low ceiling with a three-legged stool that he had seized from the floor. "i don't see how he got up there so quickly, though. he must be like greased lightning." he was pounding vigorously on the roughly boarded ceiling when the sharp voice of the old woman, raised in command, caused him to lower the stool and turn upon her with gleaming, triumphant eyes. the look he saw in her face was sufficient to check his enterprise for the moment. he dropped the stool and started toward her, his arms extended to catch her swaying form. the look of the dying was in her eyes; she seemed to be crumpling before him. he reached her in time, his strong arms grasping the frail, bent figure as it sank to the floor. as he lifted her bodily from her feet, intent upon carrying her to the open air, her bony fingers sank into his arm with the grip of death, and--could he believe his ears!--a low, mocking laugh came from her lips. down where the pebbly house-yard merged into the mossy banks, mr. hobbs sat tight, still staring with gloomy eyes at the dark little hut up the glen. his sturdy knees were pressing the skirts of the saddle with a firmness that left no room for doubt as to the tension his nerves were under. now and then he murmured "my word!" but in what connection it is doubtful if even he could tell. a quarter of an hour had passed since king disappeared through the doorway: mr. hobbs was getting nervous. the shiftless, lanky goose-herd came forth in time, and lazily drove his scattered flock off into the lower glen. the horses were becoming impatient. to his extreme discomfort, not to say apprehension, they were constantly pricking their ears forward and snorting in the direction of the hovel; a very puzzling circumstance, thought mr. hobbs. at this point he began to say "dammit," and with some sense of appreciation, too. presently his eye caught sight of a thin stream of smoke, rather black than blue, arising from the little chimney at the rear of the cabin. his eyes flew very wide open; his heart experienced a sudden throbless moment; his mind leaped backward to the unexplained smoke mystery of the day before. it was on the end of his tongue to cry out to his unseen patron, to urge him to leave the witch to her deviltry and come along home, when the old woman herself appeared in the doorway--alone. she sat down upon the doorstep, pulling away at a long pipe, her hooded face almost invisible from the distance which he resolutely held. he felt that she was eyeing him with grim interest. for a few minutes he waited, a sickening doubt growing up in his soul. a single glance showed him that the chimney was no longer emitting smoke. it seemed to him that the old woman was losing all semblance of life. she was no more than a black, inanimate heap of rags piled against the door-jamb. hobbs let out a shout. the horses plunged viciously. slowly the bundle of rags took shape. the old woman arose and hobbled toward him, leaning upon a great cane. "whe--where's mr. king?" called out hobbs. she stopped above him and he could see her face. mr. hobbs was chilled to the bone. her arm was raised, a bony finger pointing to the treetops above her hovel. "he's gone. didn't you see him? he went off among the treetops. you won't see him again." she waited a moment, and then went on, in most ingratiating tones: "would you care to come into my house? i can show you the road he took. you--" but mr. hobbs, his hair on end, had dropped the rein of king's horse and was putting boot to his own beast, whirling frantically into the path that led away from the hated, damned spot! down the road he crashed, pursued by witches whose persistence put to shame the efforts of those famed ladies of tam o'shanter in the long ago; if he had looked over his shoulder, he might have discovered that he was followed by a riderless horse, nothing more. but a riderless horse is a gruesome thing--sometimes. chapter ix strange disappearances the further adventures of mr. hobbs on this memorable afternoon are quickly chronicled, notwithstanding the fact that he lived an age while they were transpiring, and experienced sensations that would still be fresh in his memory if he lived to be a hundred. he was scarcely well out of sight of the cabin when his conscience began to smite him: after all, his patron might be in dire need of his services, and here he was, fleeing from an old woman and a whiff of smoke! hobbs was not a physical coward, but it took more than a mile of hard-ridden conscience to bring his horse to a standstill. then, with his heart in his mouth, he slowly began to retrace his steps, walking where he had galloped a moment before. a turn in the road brought him in view of something that caused him to draw rein sharply. a hundred yards ahead, five or six men were struggling with a riderless bay horse. "my gawd!" ejaculated hobbs. "it's _his_ horse! i might have known!" he looked eagerly for his patron. there was no sign of him, so hobbs rode slowly forward, intent upon asking the woodmen--for such they appeared to be--to accompany him to the glen, now but a short distance ahead. as he drew nearer, it struck him forcibly that the men were not what he had thought them to be. they were an evil-looking lot, more like the strikers he had seen in the town earlier in the day. even as he was turning the new thought over in his mind, one of them stepped out of the little knot, and, without a word of warning, lifted his arm and fired point blank at the little englishman. a pistol ball whizzed close by his head. his horse leaped to the side of the road in terror, almost unseating him. but hobbs had fighting blood in his veins. what is more to the point, he had a mauser revolver in his pocket. he jerked it out, and, despite a second shot from the picket, prepared to ride down upon the party. an instant later half a dozen revolvers were blazing away at him. hobbs turned at once and rode in the opposite direction, whirling to fire twice at the unfriendly group. soon he was out of range and at leisure. he saw the futility of any attempt to pass them. the only thing left for him to do was to ride as quickly as possible to the city and give the alarm: at the same time, to acquaint the police with the deliberate assault of the desperadoes. his mind was so full of the disaster to truxton king--he did not doubt for an instant that he had been destroyed by the sorceress--that he gave little thought to his own encounter with the rascals in the roadway. he had come to like the impetuous young man with the open purse and the open heart. despite his waywardness in matters conventional to the last degree he could not but admire him for the smile he had and the courage that never failed him, even when the smile met the frown of rebuke. riding swiftly through the narrow, sunless defile he was nearing the point where the road connected with the open highway; from there on the way was easy and devoid of peril. suddenly his horse swerved and leaped furiously out of stride, stumbling, but recovering himself almost instantaneously. in the same second he heard the sharp crack of a firearm, far down the unbroken ravine to his left. a second shot came, this time from the right and quite close at hand. his horse was staggering, swaying--then down he crashed, hobbs swinging clear barely in time to escape being pinioned to the ground. a stream of blood was pouring from the side of the poor beast. aghast at this unheard of wantonness, the little interpreter knew not which way to turn, but stood there dazed until a third shot brought him to his senses. the bullet kicked up the dust near his feet. he scrambled for the heavy underbrush at the roadside and darted off into the forest, his revolver in his hand, his heart palpitating like mad. time and again as he fled through the dark thickets, he heard the hoarse shouts of men in the distance. it dawned upon him at last that there had been an uprising of some kind in the city--that there was rioting and murder going on--that these men were not ordinary bandits, but desperate strikers in quest of satisfaction for grievances ignored. night came and he dropped to the soft, dank earth, utterly exhausted and absolutely lost for the time being in the pathless hills. at ten o'clock the next morning colonel quinnox and a company of soldiers, riding from the city gates toward the north in response to a call for help from honest herders who reported attacks and robberies of an alarming nature, came upon the stiff, foot-sore, thorn-scratched mr. hobbs, not far from the walls of the town. the colonel was not long in grasping the substance of hobbs's revelations. he rode off at once for the witch's hovel, sending hobbs with a small, instructed escort to the castle, where baron dangloss was in consultation with mr. tullis and certain ministers. the city was peaceful enough, much to the surprise of hobbs. no disturbance had been reported, said the guardsmen who rode beside him. up in the hills there had been some depredations, but that was all. "all?" groaned mr. hobbs. "all? hang it all, man, wot do you call all? you haven't heard 'alf all of it yet. i tell you, there's been the devil to pay. wait till the colonel comes back from ganlook gap. he'll have news for you; take it from me, he will. that poor chap 'as gone up in smoke, as sure as my name's hobbs." they met baron dangloss near the barracks, across the park from the castle. he was in close, earnest conversation with john tullis and count halfont, both of whom seemed to be labouring under intense excitement. over by the arsenal the little prince, attended by his aunt loraine and count vos engo--with two mechanical guardsmen in the background--was deep in conversation with julius spantz, the master-of-arms. if he had been near enough to hear, he might have learned that prince robin's air-gun was very much out of order and needed attention at once. the arrival of hobbs, a pitiful but heroic object, at once arrested the attention of every one. his story was heard by a most distinguished audience; in fact, hobbs was near to exploding with his own suddenly acquired importance. not only were there dark, serious looks from the men in the party, and distressed exclamations from the most beautiful young lady in the world (he had always said that of her), but he had the extreme unction of bringing tears to the eyes of a prince, and of hearing manfully suppressed sobs from the throat of the same august personage. the looks that went round at the conclusion of his disjointed and oft-interrupted story, expressed something more than consternation. "there is nothing supernatural about king's disappearance," said tullis sharply. "that's all nonsense. he had money about him and it perhaps turns out that there really was a man at the crack in the door--a clever brigand who to-day has got the better of our vain-glorious friend. the shooting in the hills is more disturbing than this, to my mind. gentlemen, you shouldn't lose any time in running these fellows down. it will mean trouble if it gets under way. they're an ugly lot." "this mystery coming on top of the other is all the more difficult to understand. i mean the disappearance of the countess marlanx," said baron dangloss, pulling at his imperial in plain perplexity. "but we must not stop here talking. will you come with me, mr. tullis, to the tower? i shall send out my best man to work on the case of the lady. it is a most amazing thing. i still have hope that she will appear in person to explain the affair." "i think not," said tullis gloomily. "this looks like abduction-foul play, or whatever you choose to call it. she has never left her father's house in just this manner before. i believe, baron, that marlanx has taken her away by force. she told me yesterday that she would never go back to him if she could help it. i have already given you my suspicions regarding his designs upon the--ahem!" catching the eager gaze of the prince, he changed the word "throne" to "treasury." the baron nodded thoughtfully. "the countess attended the fête at baron pultz's last night, leaving at twelve o'clock. i said good-night to her at the fountain and watched her until she passed through the gate between the baron's grounds and those of her father adjoining. she would not permit me to accompany her to the doors. her maid had preceded her and was waiting just beyond the gate--at least, so she says to-day. it is less than two hundred feet from the gate to perse's doorsteps. well, she never crossed that space. her maid waited for an hour near the fernery and then came to the baron's. the countess has not been seen since she passed through the gate in the wall. i say that she has been carried away." "the maid will be at my office at eleven with the duke of perse and the house servants. i have detailed a man to look up this fellow brutus you speak of, and to ascertain his whereabouts last night. come, we will go to the tower. the duke is greatly distressed. he suspects foul play, i am confident, but he will not admit that marlanx is responsible." "but what about mr. king?" piped up a small voice. "colonel quinnox has gone to look for him, bobby," began tullis, frowning slightly. he was interested in but one human being at that moment. "i want the old witch beheaded," said the prince. "why don't you go, uncle jack? he's an american. he'd help you, i bet, if you were in danger." tullis flushed. then he patted prince robin's shoulder and said, with no little emotion in his voice: "perhaps i deserve the rebuke, bobby, but you must not forget that there is a lady in distress. which would you have me do--desert the lady whom we all love or the man whom we scarcely know?" "the lady," said bobby promptly. "hasn't she got a husband to look after her? mr. king has no friends, no relations, nothing. aunt loraine likes him and so do i." "he's a fine chap," asserted hobbs, and afterward marvelled at his own temerity. loraine, her merry eyes now dark with anxiety, her cheeks white with resolution, turned upon john tullis. "you might leave the rescue of the countess to the proper authorities--the police," she said calmly. "i think it is your duty as an american to head the search for mr. king. if count marlanx has spirited his wife away, pray, who has a better right?" "but we are not sure that he--" "we are sure that mr. king is either dead or in dire need of help," she interrupted hotly. he looked at her in surprise, swayed by two impulses. "colonel quinnox is quite competent to conduct the search," he said shortly. "but colonel quinnox has gone forth on another mission. he may be unable to give any of his time to the search for mr. king. it is outrageous, john tullis, to refuse help--" "i don't refuse help," he exclaimed. "they may take the whole army out to look for him, so far as i am concerned. but, i'll tell you this--i consider it my duty as a man to devote what strength i have to the service of a _woman_ in trouble. that ends it! come, baron; we will go to the tower." the amazed young woman looked at him with wide, comprehending eyes. her lip trembled under the rebuke. count halfont intervened, hastily proposing that a second party be sent out at once with instructions to raze the witch's hut if necessary. "i shall be happy to lead the expedition," said young count vos engo, bowing deeply to the young lady herself. "you shall, vos engo," said halfont. "prepare at once. take ten men. i shall report to general braze for you." tullis turned suddenly to the resentful girl. "loraine," he said gently, as the others drew away, "don't be hard with me. you don't understand." "yes, i do," she said stubbornly. "you are in love with her." "yes; that's quite true." "a married woman!" "i can't help it. i must do all i can for her." she looked into his honest eyes for a moment. "forgive me," she murmured, hanging her head. "what is mr. king to us, after all?" "he is simply paying for his foolhardiness. americans do that the world over." "be careful that you do not pay for something worse than foolhardiness." "i think you may trust me." she smiled brightly up into his face. "have your way, then. remember that i am her friend, too." then she hurried off after the prince and vos engo, who was already giving instructions to an attentive orderly. "poor mr. king!" she said to the prince, as they stood by watching the preparations. "i am afraid, bobby, he can't come to your circus this week. i sent the invitation this morning, early. he may never receive it. isn't it dreadful, count vos engo?" count vos engo was politely concerned, but it should not be expected that, in his present state of mind regarding her, he could be seriously grieved by anything that might have happened to the rash american. the guard about the prince was doubled: orders requiring the strictest care of his person were issued by count halfont. by this time, it may be suspected, the suspicions of john tullis had been communicated to men high in the government; no small amount of credence was attached to them. baron dangloss began to see things in a different light; things that had puzzled him before now seemed clear. his office was the busiest place in edelweiss. "it is not unreasonable to suspect that marlanx, or some of his agents, having concluded that the countess knew too much of their operations, and might not be a safe repository, decided to remove her before it was too late. understand, gentlemen, i don't believe the countess is in sympathy with her husband's schemes--" the duke of perse interrupted the doughty baron. "you assume a great deal, baron, in saying that he has schemes inimical to the best interests of this country." "i fancy that your grace will admit that your venerable son-in-law--who, if i mistake not, is some ten years your senior--has no great love for the reigning power in graustark. we will pass that, however," said the baron, pointedly. "we should be wise enough to guard against any move he may make; it is imperative that we should not be caught napping." "i don't believe he has taken my daughter away by force. why should he do so? she goes to him voluntarily at the end of each visit. there is no coercion." he met john tullis's stony gaze without flinching. "i insist that she has been stolen by these brigands in the hills, to be held for ransom." the stories of the maid, the footmen, the groundmen were all to the effect that the countess had not returned to her father's home after leaving the fête next door. there were no signs of a struggle in the garden, nor had there been the slightest noise to attract the attention of the waiting maid. it was not impossible, after all, that she had slipped away of her own accord, possessed of a sudden whim or impulse. the new man-servant, suspected by the countess herself, passed through the examination creditably. tullis, of course, had not yet told dangloss of the countess's own suspicions concerning this man. they were a part of their joint secret. the american felt sure, however, that this man knew more of the night's work than he had told. he conveyed this belief to dangloss, and a close watch was set upon the fellow. more than once during the long afternoon john tullis found himself wishing that he had that dare-devil, thoroughbred young countryman of his, truxton king, beside him; something told him that the young man would prove a treasure in resourcefulness and activity. late in the afternoon, a telegram was brought to tullis which upset all of their calculations and caused the minister of police to swear softly in pure disgust. it was from the countess marlanx herself, sent from porvrak, a station far down the railway, in the direction of vienna. it was self-explanatory: "i am going to schloss marlanx, there to end my days. there is no hope for me. i go voluntarily. will you not understand why i am leaving edelweiss? you must know." it was signed "ingomede." tullis was dumbfounded. he caught the penetrating glance of dangloss and flushed under the sudden knowledge that this shrewd old man also understood why she was leaving edelweiss. because of _him!_ because she loved him and would not be near him. his heart swelled exultantly in the next moment; a brave resolve was born within him. "we don't need a key to that, my boy," said the baron indulgently. "but i will say that she has damned little consideration for you when she steals away in the dead of night, without a word. in a ball dress, too. unfeeling, i'd say. well, we can devote our attention to mr. king, who _is_ lost." "see here, baron," said tullis after a moment, "i want you to give me a couple of good men for a few days. i'm going to schloss marlanx. i'll get her away from that place if i have to kill marlanx and swing for it." at seven o'clock that night, accompanied by two clever secret service men, tullis boarded the train for the west. a man who stood in the tobacconist's shop on the station platform smiled quietly to himself as the train pulled out. then he walked briskly away. it was peter brutus, the lawyer. a most alluring trap had been set for john tullis! the party that had gone to ganlook gap in charge of count vos engo returned at nightfall, no wiser than when it left the barracks at noon. riding bravely, but somewhat dejectedly beside the handsome young officer in command was a girl in grey. it was her presence with the troop that had created comment at the gates earlier in the day. no one could understand why she was riding forth upon what looked to be a dangerous mission. least of all, count vos engo, who had striven vainly to dissuade her from the purpose to accompany the soldiers. now she was coming home with them, silent, subdued, dispirited--even more so than she allowed the count to see. "i was hateful to him yesterday," she said penitently, as they rode into the city. vos engo had been thinking of something else: the remark disturbed him. "he was very presumptuous-yesterday," he said crossly. she transfixed him with a look meant to be reproachful. "that's why i managed the ticket for bobby's circus," she said, looking ahead with a genuinely mournful droop of her lip. "i was sorry for him. oh, dear, oh, dear what will his poor mother say--and his sister?" "we've done all we can, loraine. except to cable," he added sourly. "yes, i suppose so. poor fellow!" colonel quinnox and his men had been scouring the hills for bandits. they arrived at the witch's cabin a few minutes after vos engo and his company. disregarding the curses of the old woman, a thorough search of the place was made. the forest, the ravine, the mountainside for a mile or more in all directions were gone over by the searchers. there was absolutely no sign of the missing man, nor was there the least indication that there had been foul play. the old woman's story, reflected by the grandson, was convincing so far as it went. she said that the young man remained behind in the kitchen to puzzle himself over the smoke mystery, while she went out to her doorstep. the man with the horses became frightened when she went down to explain the situation to him. he fled. a few minutes later the gentleman emerged, to find his horse gone, himself deserted. cursing, he struck off down the glen in pursuit of his friend, and that was the last she saw of him. not long afterward she heard shooting in the gap and sent her grandson to see if anything could have happened to her late visitor, who, it seems, owed her one hundred gavvos as a forfeit of some sort. the further prosecution of the search was left to colonel quinnox and his men. loraine, shuddering, but resolute, had witnessed the ransacking of the hut, had urged the arrest of the hag, and had come away disheartened but satisfied that the woman had told them the truth. quinnox's theory was accepted by all. he believed that king had fallen into the hands of brigands and that a heavy ransom would be demanded for his release. in a warm-tinted room at the castle, later on in the evening, the prince, in pajamas, was discoursing bravely on the idiosyncrasies of fate. his only auditor was the mournful loraine, who sat beside the royal bed in which he wriggled vaguely. the attendants were far down the room. "never mind, aunt loraine, you can't help it. i'm just as sorry as you are. say, are you in love with him?" "in love with whom?" "mr. king." "of course not, silly. what an absurd question. i do not know him at all." "that's all right, aunt loraine. i believe in love at first sight. he is a--" "bobby! don't be foolish. how could i be in love with _him_?" "well, you can't help it sometimes. even princes fall in love without knowing it." "i suppose so," dreamily. "it's mighty hard to make up your mind which one you love best, though. dr. barrett's daughter in new york is awful nice, but i think she's--" "she is twenty years older than you, bobby, if you mean to say you are in love with her." "well, but i'll grow up, auntie. anyhow, paula vedrowski is not so old as i. she is--" "for heaven's sake, bobby, do go to sleep!" "don't you care to hear about _my_ love affairs?" "you are perfectly ridiculous!" "all right for you, auntie. i shan't listen when you want to tell me about yours. gee, uncle jack listens, you bet. i wish he was here this minute. say, is he ever going to get married?" there was no answer. he peered over the top of the pillow. there were tears in his aunt loraine's eyes. "oh, say, auntie, darling, don't cry! i'll--i'll go to sleep, honest!" she was not in love with truxton king, but she was a fine, tender-hearted girl, who suffered because of the thing that had happened to him and because she loved his sister. over in the hotel regengetz, on a little table in the centre of the room, lay a thick envelope with the royal arms emblazoned in the upper corner. it contained an invitation to the private circus that had been arranged for the little prince, and it bore the name of truxton king. across the foot of the bed hung his evening clothes, laid out by a faithful and well-tipped house valet, snug and ready for instant use. but where was truxton king? chapter x the iron count when king, in the kindness of his heart, grasped the old woman to keep her from falling to the floor, he played directly into the hands of very material agencies under her control. there was nothing ghostly or even spiritual in the incidents that followed close upon the simulated fainting spell of the fortune-teller. it has been said before that her bony fingers closed upon his arms in a far from feeble manner. he had no time for surprise at this sudden recovery; there was only time to see a fiendish grin flash into her face. the next instant something struck him in the face; then with a fierce jerk this same object tightened about his neck. his attempt to yell out was checked before a sound could issue from his lips. it all came to him in a flash. a noose had been dropped over his head; as he was pulled backward, his startled, bulging eyes swept the ceiling. the mystery was explained, but in a manner that left him small room for satisfaction. above him a square opening had appeared in the ceiling; two ugly, bearded faces were leaning over the edge and strong hands were grasping a thick rope. in a frenzy of fear and desperation he cast the old woman from him and tore violently at the rope. they were drawing hard from above; his toes were barely touching the floor; he was strangling. frantically he grasped the rope, lifting himself from the floor in the effort to loosen the noose with his free hand. a hoarse laugh broke upon his dinning ears, the leering faces drew nearer; and then, as everything went black, a heavy, yet merciful blow fell upon his head. as consciousness left him, he felt himself rushing dizzily upward, grasped by powerful hands and whisked through the opening into air so hot and stiffling that his last thought was of the fires of hell. not many minutes passed before consciousness, which had been but partially lost, returned to him. the ringing sensation remained in his head, but he was no longer choking. the noose had been removed from his neck; the rope itself was now serving as a bond for his hands and feet, a fact that impressed itself upon him when he tried to rise. for some time he lay perfectly still, urging his senses into play: wondering where he was and what had happened to him. it was pitch dark and the air was hot and close. not a sound came to his throbbing cars. with characteristic irrepressibility he began to swear softly, but articulately. proof that his profanity was mild--one might say genteel--came in an instant. a gruff voice, startlingly near at hand, interrupted him. "spit it out, young feller! swear like a man, not like a damn canary bird." truxton tried hard to pierce the darkness, a strange thrill passing through his veins. the hidden speaker was unquestionably an american. "what the devil does all this mean?" demanded the captive. "where am i?" "it means business, and you're here, that's where you are," was the sarcastic answer. "are you an american?" "no. i'm a chinaman." "oh, come off! answer square." "well, i was born in newport." as an afterthought: "kentucky." "you're in a damned nice business, i'll say that for you," growled truxton. "who is responsible for this outrage?" he heard the man yawn prodigiously. "depends on what you call an outrage." "this is the damnedest high-handed outrage i've ever--" "better save your breath, young feller. you won't have it very long, so save what you can of it." truxton was silent for a moment, analysing this unique remark. "you mean i am to stop breathing altogether?" "something like that." "why?" "i don't know." "you don't know? well, who does?" "you'll find out when the boss gets good and ready." "you are a fine american!" "look here, young feller, i've been polite to you, so don't get gay. i'll come over there and kick your jaw in." "come ahead. anything to break the monotony." "didn't you get enough of the hangman's knot and the sandbag? want more, eh? well, if i wasn't so darned comfortable i'd come over there and give it to you. now don't rile me!" "i deserve to be kicked for being such a blithering fool as to get into this mess. come on and kick me." "you wanted to get a poke at the old man's eye, did ye? by thunder, that's like an american. never satisfied to let things alone. see what it got you into?" "the old man's eye? what old man?" "that's for you to find out, if you can. you've made a hell of a poor start at it." "you're a good-natured scoundrel" "thanks for them kind words." "well, what are you going to do with me? i don't like the air in here. it's awful. how long do i stay here?" "say, you're a gritty little man. i like your nerve. too bad we ain't on the same side. i'll tell you this: you won't be here long. how would the old girl down there put it? you're going on a long voyage. that's it. but first we'll get out of this rat hole, just as soon as them other guys come back from the cave. you'll get fresh air purty soon. now, don't talk any more. i'm through gossipin'!" "how do you, an american, happen to be mixed up in a deal like this?" "it's healthier work than makin' barrels at--i was goin' to say sing sing, but i hear they've changed the name. i prefer outdoor work." "fugitive, eh?" "you might call it that. i'm wanted in seven states. the demand for me is great." truxton saw that he could get nothing out of the satirical rascal, so fell to speculating for himself. that he was still in the loft above the hovel was more or less clear to him. his mind, now active, ran back to the final scene in the kitchen. the trap-door in the ceiling, evidently a sliding arrangement, explained the mysterious disappearance of the owner of the eye; he had been whisked up through the aperture by confederates and the trap-door closed before it could be discovered. the smoking kettle no longer puzzled him, now that he knew of the secret room above the kitchen; a skilfully concealed blow-pipe could have produced the phenomenon. the space in which he was now lying, half suffocated, was doubtless a part of the cleverly designed excavation at the back of the hovel, the lower half being the kitchen, the upper an actual gateway to the open air somewhere in the mountainside. that he had fallen into the hands of a band of conspirators was also quite clear to him. whether they were brigands or more important operators against the crown, he was, of course, in no position to decide. time would tell. it was enough that they expected to kill him, sooner or later. this, in itself, was sufficient to convince him that he was not to be held for ransom, but to be disposed of for reasons best known to his captors. like a shot the warning of olga platanova flashed into his brain. here, then, was the proof that she actually knew of the peril he was in. but why should he be an object of concern to these men, whoever they were? his guard had mentioned "the old man." good heavens, could he mean spantz? the cold perspiration was standing on king's brow. spantz! he recalled the wickedness in the armourer's face. but why should spantz wish him evil? again intuition, encouraged by memory, supplied him with a possible, even plausible explanation. the anarchists! the reds! olga was an avowed anarchist; she was almost a prisoner in the house of her uncle. truxton's guard sat up suddenly and felt for his weapon when the captive let out a bitter oath of understanding and rage. "by gad, they think i am a detective!" he added, light coming to him with a rush. "what's that?" snapped the other. truxton could almost feel the other's body grow tense despite the space between them. "are you a detective? are you? by god, if you are, i'll finish you up right here. you--" "no! they're on the wrong scent. by jove, the laugh's on old man spantz." "oho! so you _do_ know what's up, then? spantz, eh? well, what you've guessed at or found out won't make much difference, my fine young fellow. they've got you, and you'll be worse off than danny deever in the mornin'! hello! here they come. now we'll get out of this infernal bake-oven. say, do you know, you've been cuddlin' up against a j'int of warm stove pipe for nearly an hour? sh!" the glimmer of a light came bobbing up from somewhere behind truxton; he could see the flickering shadows on the wall. two men crept into the room a moment later. one of them carried a lantern; the other turned king's body over with his foot. "you damned brute," grated the captive. "call him what you like, young feller," said his first acquaintance. "he can't understand a word you say. well, do we pull out?" this to the man with the lantern. the roof was so low that they were compelled to stoop in moving about. truxton saw that the three ruffians were great, brutal-faced fellows, with bared arms that denoted toil as well as spoils. "immediate!" said the lantern bearer. "come; we drag him to the cave." "drag? nix; we c'n carry him, pard. i'm not for draggin' him down that passage. grab hold there,--you! hey, get his feet, damn you!" the third man was reluctant to understand, but at last grasped the prisoner by the feet, swearing in a language of his own. the yankee desperado took his shoulders, and together, with earnest grunts, they followed the man with the lantern, truxton knew not whither except that it was away from the wretched sweat-hole. he could see that they were crowding through a low, narrow passage, the earthen sides of which reeked with moisture. twice they paused to rest, resuming the journey after a season of cursing, finally depositing him with scant courtesy upon the rocky floor of what proved to be a rather commodious cave. the breath was almost jarred from his body. he had the satisfaction of driving his two heels viciously against the person of the man who had held them the last ten minutes, receiving a savage kick in return. daylight streamed into this convenient "hole in the wall;" lying upon his side, truxton faced the opening that looked out upon the world. he saw nothing but blue sky. near the opening, looking down as if into the valley below, stood the tall, gaunt figure of a man, thin-shouldered and stooped. his back was to the captive, but king observed that the three men, with two companions, who sat at the back of the cave, never removed their gaze from the striking figure outlined against the sky. many minutes passed before the watcher turned slowly to take in the altered conditions behind him. king saw that he was old; grey-haired and cadaverous, with sharp, hawk-like features. this, then, was the "old man," and he was not william spantz. unlike spantz in every particular was this man who eyed him so darkly, so coldly. here was a highborn man, a man whose very manners bespoke for him years at court, a life spent in the upper world, not among the common people. truxton found himself returning the stare with an interest that brought results. "your name is king, i believe," came from the thin lips of the old man. the tones were as metallic as the click of steel. "yes. may i inquire--" "no, you may not inquire. put a gag in his mouth. i don't care to hear anything from him. gag him and cut the rope from his feet. he may walk from now on." three men sprang to do his bidding. king felt in that instant that he was looking for the first time upon the features of the iron count, marlanx the dishonoured. he lay there helpless, speechless for many minutes, glancing at this cruel tyrant. into his soul sank the conviction that no mercy would come from this man, this hater of all men; justice would play no part in the final, sickening tragedy. it was enough that marlanx suspected him of being in the way; to be suspected was to be condemned. the whole, hellish conspiracy flashed through his brain. he closed his eyes with the horror of it all. here was marlanx on graustark soil, conniving with cutthroats, commanding them without opposition. what could it mean except a swift-growing menace to the crown--to the little prince. marlanx was speaking. truxton looked up, as at an executioner. the lean, cruel face of that beautiful girl's husband was not far from his own; the fiery eyes were burning into his. the iron count sat upon a boulder near his feet. "so you are the quixote who would tilt at invisible windmills, eh? i remember you quite well. we have met before. perhaps you remember meeting my eye in dame babba's cabin--twice, i think. you remember, i see. ha, ha! you were very slow not to have caught such an old man. you were near to it the first time, but--you missed it, eh? i thought you might have seen my heels as i disappeared. i dare say you are wondering what i intend to do with you, now that i have you. well, i am not the man to mince words. mr. king, you are quite young, but the good die young. i am very old, you observe. i will not say that you are to die to-night or to-morrow or any day, for i do not know. i am going to send you to a court. not an ordinary court, mr. king, but one of extreme perspicacity. i fancy you will die before long. we can spare you. i do not approve of meddlers. it seems to be quite settled that you are a police agent. be that as it may, i imagine our little court of last resort will take no chances, one way or the other. a man or two, more or less, will not be counted a year from now." the steady, cruel eyes fascinated king. he knew that he was in desperate straits, that he had one chance in a million to escape, and yet he found himself held by the spell of those eyes, drinking in certain metallic monotones as if hypnotised. "i am glad you called again at my temporary abode, mr. king. americans are always welcome: the sooner they come, the sooner it's over. it may interest you to know that i am very partial to americans. were i a cannibal, i could eat them with relish. if i had my way, all americans should be in heaven. the earth surely is not good enough nor big enough for them, and hell is already overcrowded. yes," reflectively pressing his nose with a bony forefinger, "i love the americans dearly. i should enjoy a similar visit from mr. john tullis. although, i may say, he seems to be choosing another way of testing my hospitality. i expect him to visit me in my humble castle before many days. i should like to have him remain there until his dying day." there was a deep significance in his smile. king shuddered. his gaze followed the gaunt, spidery old man as he returned to the opening for another long survey of the valley below. night was falling; the sky was growing darker, and the wind was rising. marlanx's sharp features were not so distinguishable when he returned to the boulder. the men in the cave had not spoken except in whispers. they appeared to be living in abject fear of this grim old nobleman. "night is coming. i must say farewell, my bold young friend. my way lies to the north. this is merely a land of promise to me. you go southward, to the city of edelweiss. but not through the gates; oh, no! there are other ways, as you will find. if you should, by any chance, escape the jurisdiction of the court i am sending you to, i sincerely trust you may honour me with another visit here. i come often to the hovel in the glen. it is the only friendly house i know of in all graustark. some day i may be able to recompense its beauteous mistress. my good friends, dangloss, and halfont, and braze--and tullis, whom i know only by reputation--are, as yet, unaware of my glorious return to graustark, else they would honour me with their distinguished presence. some day i may invite them to dine with me. i shall enjoy seeing them eat of the humble pie i can put before them. good-bye, my brave sir galahad; i may never see you again." with a courtly bow he turned from the tense-muscled captive and directed his final instructions to the men. "take him at once to the city, but be on your guard. a single false move now means utter ruin for all of us. our affairs go so well at present that we cannot afford to offend dame fortune. she smiles on us, my men. take this fool to the house on the monastery road. there you will turn him over to the others. it is for them to drag the truth from his lips. i'd suggest, dear mr. king, that you tell them all you know before they begin the dragging process. it is a very unpleasant way they have." with a curt nod to the men, he strode out through the mouth of the cave and was gone. dusk had settled down upon mountain and valley; a thin fog swam high in the air above. one of the men cut the rope that bound truxton's feet. "get up," said the newport man. "we've got to be movin'. how'd you like the old man? smart bug, ain't he? say, he'll throw the hooks into them guys down in edelweiss so hard one of these days that they won't come out till they rot out." still gagged and somewhat dizzy, king was hurried off into the narrow mountain path, closely surrounded by the five men. "they tell me your friend, the cook guy, got plugged down in the gap when he tried to duck this afternoon," volunteered the yankee unconcernedly. hobbs shot? king's eyes suddenly filled with tears, a great wave of pity and shame rushing to his heart. poor hobbs! he had led him into this; to gratify a vain-glorious whim, he had done the little englishman to death. the silent, cautious march down the valley, through the gap and along the ridge carried them far into the night. king knew that they were skirting the main roads, keeping to the almost hidden trails of the mountaineers. they carried no light, nor did they speak to each other, except in hoarse whispers. in single file they made their way, the prisoner between them, weary, footsore and now desperate in the full realisation of his position. being gagged, he could make no appeal to the one man who might befriend him--his villainous countryman. it occurred to him--grim thought--that the astute marlanx had considered that very probability, and had made it impossible for him to resort to the cupidity of the hireling. at last, when he could scarcely drag his feet after him, they came to a halt. a consultation followed, but he could not understand a word. this much he knew: they were in the hills directly above the northern gates. two of the men went forward, moving with extreme caution. in half an hour they returned and the march was resumed. their next halt came sooner than he expected. the vague, black shadow of a lightless house loomed up before them. in a twinkling he was hustled across the road and into a door. then down a flight of stairs, through pitchy darkness, guided by two of the men, a whispered word of advice now and then from the yankee saving him from perilous stumbles. he was jerked up sharply with a command to stand still. a light flashed suddenly in his face, blinding him for the moment. voices in eager, quick conversation came to his ears long before his eyes could take in the situation. soon he saw that they were in a broad, bare cellar; three men in heavy black beards were in earnest conversation with several of his captors; all were gesticulating fiercely. his newport companion enlightened him, between puffs of the pipe he was struggling with. "here's where we say good-bye, young fellow. we turn you over to these gents, whoever they are. i'm sort of out of it when they get to jabberin' among themselves. i can understand 'em when they talk slow, but, say, did you ever hear a flock of union square sparrows chirp faster than them fellers is talkin' now? nix. you go into the village gay with these schwabs by the sewer line, i guess." truxton pricked up his ears. "the old man has had a hole chopped in the sewer here, they tell me, and it's a snap to get into the city. not very clean or neat, but it gets you there. well, so long! they're ready, i see. they don't monkey long when they've got a thing to do. i'd advise you not to be too stubborn when they get you to headquarters; it may go easier with you. i'm not so damned bad, young feller. it's just the business i'm in--and the company." king felt a thrill of real regard for the rascal. he nodded his thanks and tried to smile. the fellow grinned and slapped him on the shoulder, unobserved by the others. in another moment his guardianship was transferred; he was being hurried across the cellar toward an open doorway. down a few stone steps he was led by the bearded crew, and then pushed through a hole in what appeared to be a heavy brick wall. he realised at once where he was. the gurgle of running water, the odor of foul airs came up to him. it was the great sewer that ran from the hills through the heart of the city, flushed continuously by a diverted mountain stream that swept down from above. he was wading in cold water over a slippery bottom, tightly held by two men, the third going ahead with the lantern. always ahead loomed the black, opaque circle which never came nearer, never grew smaller. it was the ever receding wall of darkness. he did not know how long they traversed the chill sewer in this fashion. in time, however, the water got deeper; rats began to scurry along the sides of the circle or to swim frantically on in front of the disturbers. the smells were sickening, overpowering. only excitement, curiosity, youth--whatever you may care to term it-kept him up and going. the everlasting glory of youth never ends until old age has provided the surfeit of knowledge; the strife to see ahead, to find out what is to be, to know,--that is youth. youth dies when curiosity ends. the emotion is even stronger than the dread of what may lie beyond in the pallid sea of uncertainty. his bones were chilled and creaking with fatigue. he was remorselessly hungry. there was water, but he could not drink it. at last the strange journey ended. they came to a niche in the slimy wall. up into this the men climbed, dragging him after them. the man above was cautiously tapping on what appeared to be solid masonry. to king's surprise a section of the wall suddenly opened before them. he was seized from above by strong hands and literally jerked through the hole, his companions following. up narrow steps, through a sour-smelling passage and--then, into a long, dimly lighted room, in the centre of which stood a long table. he was not permitted to linger here for long, but passed on into a small room adjoining. some one, speaking in english, told him to sit down. the gag was removed from his stiff, inflamed mouth. "fetch him some water," said a voice that he was sure he recognised--a high, querulous voice. "hello, spantz," articulated truxton, turning to the black-bearded, bent figure. there was an instance of silence. then spantz spoke, with a soft laugh: "you will not know so much to-morrow, herr king. give him the water, man. he has much to say to us, and he cannot talk with a dry throat." "nor an empty stomach," added king. he drank long of the pitcher that was held to his lips. "this is not the regengetz," growled a surly voice. "you mean, i don't eat?" "not at midnight, my friend." "it seems to be an all-night joint." "enough," cried spantz. "bring him out here. the others have come." king was pushed out into the larger room, where he was confronted by a crowd of bewhiskered men and snaky-eyed women with most intellectual nose-glasses. it required but a glance to convince him that the whiskers were false. for nearly an hour he was probed with questions concerning his business in edelweiss. threats followed close upon his unsatisfactory answers, though they were absolutely truthful. there was no attempt made to disguise the fact that they were conspiring against the government; in fact, they were rather more open than secretive. when he thought of it afterward, a chill crept over him. they would not have spoken so openly before him if they entertained the slightest fear that he would ever be in a position to expose them. "we'll find a way to make you talk to-morrow, my friend. starving is not pleasant." "you would not starve me!" he cried. "no. you will have the pleasure of starving yourself," said a thin-eyed fellow whom he afterward knew as peter brutus. he was thrown back into the little room. to his surprise and gratification, the bonds on his wrists were removed. afterward he was to know that there was method in this action of his gaolers: his own utter impotency was to be made more galling to him by the maddening knowledge that he possessed hands and feet and lungs--and could not use them! he found a match in his box and struck it. there was no article of furniture. the floor was bare, the walls green with age. he had a feeling that there would be rats; perhaps lizards. a search revealed the fact that his purse, his watch and his pocket-knife were missing. another precious match showed him that there were no windows. a chimney hole in the ceiling was, perhaps, the only means by which fresh air could reach this dreary place. "well, i guess i'm here to stay," he said to himself. he sat down with his back to the wall, despair in his soul. a pitiful, weak smile came to him in the darkness, as he thought of the result of his endeavour to "show off" for the benefit of the heartless girl in rajah silk. "what an ass i am," he groaned. "now she will never know." sleep was claiming his senses. he made a pillow of his coat, commended himself to the charity of rats and other horrors, and stretched his weary bones upon the relentless floor. "no one will ever know," he murmured, his last waking thought being of a dear one at home. chapter xi under the ground day and night were the same to the occupant of the little room. they passed with equal slowness and impartial darkness. five days that he could account for crawled by before anything unusual happened to break the strain of his solitary, inexplicable confinement. he could tell when it was morning by the visit of a bewhiskered chambermaid with a deep bass voice, who carried a lighted candle and kicked him into wakefulness. the second day after his incarceration began, he was given food and drink. it was high time, for he was almost famished. thereafter, twice a day, he was led into the larger room and given a surprisingly hearty meal. moreover, he was allowed to bathe his face and hands and indulge in half an hour's futile stretching of limbs. after the second day few questions were asked by the men who had originally set themselves up as inquisitors. at first they had treated him with a harshness that promised something worse, but an incident occurred on the evening of the second day that changed the whole course of their intentions. peter brutus had just voiced the pleasure of the majority by urging the necessity for physical torture to wring the government's secrets from the prisoner. king, half famished, half crazed by thirst, had been listening to the fierce argument through the thin door that separated the rooms. he heard the sudden, eager movement toward the door of his cell, and squared himself against the opposite wall, ready to fight to the death. then there came a voice that he recognised. a woman was addressing the rabid conspirators in tones of deadly earnestness. his heart gave a bound. it was the first time since his incarceration that he had heard the voice of olga platanova, she who had warned him, she who still must be his friend. once more he threw himself to the floor and glued his ear to the crack; her voice had not the strident qualities of the other women in this lovely company. "you are not to do this thing," she was saying. king knew that she stood between her companions and the door. "you are not to touch him! do you hear me, peter brutus? all of you?" there followed the silence of stupefaction, broken at last by a voice which he recognised as that of old man spantz. "olga! stand aside!" "no! you shall not torture him. i have said he is no spy. i still say it. he knows nothing of the police and their plans. he has not been spying upon us. i am sure of it." "how can you be sure of it?" cried a woman's voice, harsh and strident. "he has played with you," sneered another. "i will not discuss the point. i know he is not what you say he is. you have no right to torture him. you have no right to hold him prisoner." "god, girl, we cannot turn him loose now. he must never go free again. he must die." this was from spantz. "we cannot release him, i grant you," she said, and truxton's heart sank. "not now, but afterward, yes. when it is all over he can do no harm. but, hear me now, all of you. if he is harmed in any way, if he is maltreated, or if you pursue this design to starve him, i shall not perform my part of the work on the th. this is final." for a full minute, it seemed to king, no one spoke. "you cannot withdraw," exclaimed peter brutus. "you are pledged. you are sworn. it is ordained." "try me, and see if i will not do as i say. he is to be treated kindly so long as we hold him here and he is to be released when the committee is in power. then he may tell all that he knows, for it will be of no avail. he cannot escape, that you know. if he were a spy i would offer no objection to your methods. he is an american gentleman, a traveller. i, olga platanova, say this to you. it is not a plea, not a petition; it is an ultimatum. spare him, or the glorious cause must suffer by my defection." "sh! not so loud, girl! he can hear every word you say!" "why should it matter, madam? he is where he can do no harm to our cause. let him hear. let him understand what it is that we are doing. are we ashamed of our duty to the world? if so, then we are criminals, not deliverers. i am not ashamed of what god wills me to do. it is horrible, but it is the edict of god. i will obey. but god does not command us to torture an innocent man who happens to fall into our hands. no! let him hear. let him know that i, olga platanova, am to hurl the thing that is to destroy the life of prince robin. i am not afraid to have him know to-day what the world will know next week. let him hear and revile me now, as the world will do after it is over and i am gone. the glory will be mine when all the people of this great globe are joined to our glorious realm. then the world will say that olga platanova was not a beast, but a deliverer, a creator! let him hear!" the listener's blood was running cold. the life of prince robin! an assassination! "the thing that will destroy!" a bomb! god! for half an hour they argued with her, seeking to turn her from the stand she had taken; protesting to the last stage, cursing her for a sentimental fool. then they came to terms with her. truxton king owed his life to this strange girl who knew him not at all, but who believed in him. he suffered intensely in the discovery that she was, in the end, to lend herself to the commission of the most heartless and diabolical of crimes--the destruction of that innocent, well-worshipped boy of graustark. "you must be in love with this simple-minded american, who comes--" peter brutus started to say at one stage of the discussion, when the frail girl was battling almost physically with her tormentors. "stop! peter brutus, you shall not say that! you know where my love lies! don't say that to me again, you beast!" she had cried, and brutus was silenced. truxton was brought into the room a few minutes later. he was white with emotion as he faced the committee of ten. before a word could be addressed to him he blurted out: "you damned cowards! weak as i am, i would have fought for you, miss platanova, if i could have got through that door. thank you for what you have done to convince these dogs! i would to god i could save you from this thing you are pledged to do. it is frightful! i cannot think it of you! give it up! all of you, give this thing up! i will promise secrecy--i will never betray what i have heard. only don't do this awful thing! think of that dear little boy--" olga platanova cried out and covered her eyes with her hands, murmuring the words "dear little boy" over and over again. she was led from the room by william spantz. peter brutus stood over king, whose arms were held by two stalwart men. "enough!" he commanded. "we spare you, not for her sake, but for the sake of the cause we serve. hear me: you are to be held here a prisoner until our plans are consummated. you will be properly fed and cared for. you have heard miss platanova say that she will cook the food for you herself, but you are not to see her. do not seek to turn her from her purpose. that you cannot do. she is pledged to it; it is irrevocable. we have perhaps made a mistake in bringing you here: it would have been far wiser to kill you in the beginning, but--" king interrupted him. "i haven't the least doubt that you will kill me in the end. she may not be here to protect me after--after the assassination." "she is prepared to die by the same bomb that slays the prince," was all that brutus would say in response to this, but king observed the sly look that went round amongst them. he knew then that they meant to kill him in the end. afterward, in his little room, he writhed in the agony of helplessness. the prince, his court, the government--all were to be blasted to satisfy the end of this sickening conspiracy. loraine! she, too, was doomed! he groaned aloud in his misery and awe. food and water came after that, but he ate and drank little, so depressed had he become. he sought for every means of escape that suggested itself to him. the walls, the floors, the doors, the stairway to the armourer's shop--all were impassable, so carefully was he guarded. from time to time he heard inklings of the plot which was to culminate on the fatal th; he did not get the details in particular, but he knew that the bomb was to be hurled at the prince near the entrance to the plaza and that marlanx's men were to sweep over the stricken city almost before the echo died away. there was a telegraph instrument in the outer room. he could hear it ticking off its messages day and night, and could hear the discussion of reports as they came in or went out. it soon became clear to him that the wire connected the room with marlanx's headquarters near balak in axphain, a branch instrument being stationed in the cave above the witch's hut. he marvelled at the completeness of the great conspiracy; and marvelled more because it seemed to be absolutely unknown to the omnipresent dangloss. on his third night he heard the committee discussing the failure of one of marlanx's most cunning schemes. the news had come in over the wire and it created no small amount of chagrin among the red conspirators. that one detail in their mighty plot should go contrary to expectations seemed to disturb them immeasurably. king was just beginning to realise the stupendous possibilities of the plot; he listened for every detail with a mind so fascinated by horror that it seemed hardly able to grasp the seriousness of his own position. it seemed that marlanx deemed it necessary--even imperative--to the welfare of the movement, that john tullis should be disposed of summarily before the crucial chapter in their operations. truxton heard the committee discussing the fiasco that attended his first attempt to draw the brainy, influential american out of the arena. it was clear that marlanx suspected tullis of a deep admiration for his wife, the countess ingomede; he was prepared to play upon that admiration for the success of his efforts. the countess disappeared on a recent night, leaving the court in extreme doubt as to her fate. later a decoy telegram was sent by a marlanx agent, informing tullis that she had gone to schloss marlanx, never to return, but so shrewdly worded that he would believe that it had been sent by coercion, and that she was actually a prisoner in the hands of her own husband. tullis was expected to follow her to the castle, bent on rescue. as a matter of fact, the countess was a prisoner in the hills near balak, spirited away from her own garden by audacious agents of the iron count. tullis was swift to fall into the trap, but, to the confusion of the arch-plotter, he was just as swift to avoid the consequences. he left edelweiss with two secret service men, bound for schloss marlanx. all unknown to him, a selected company of cutthroats were in waiting for him on the hills near the castle. to the amazement of the conspirators, he suddenly retraced his tracks and came back to edelweiss inside of twenty-four hours, a telegram stopping him at gushna, a hundred miles down the line. the message was from dangloss and it was in cipher. a trainman in the service of marlanx could only say, in explanation, that the american had smiled as he deciphered the dispatch and at once left the carriage with his men to await the up-train at six o'clock. peter brutus repeated a message he had just received from marlanx at balak. it was to the effect that he had reason to believe that his wife had managed, through an unknown traitor, to send word to the tower that she was not at schloss marlanx, nor in any immediate danger. he felt himself supported in this belief by the obvious fact that no further efforts had been made by tullis or the police since that day. the authorities apparently were inactive and tullis was serenely secure at the royal castle. the guard about the prince, however, had been largely increased. tullis was known to be re-organising the royal guard, supported by the ministry to a man, it was said; not even the duke of perse opposed him. "the count is more afraid of this man tullis than of all the rest," averred peter brutus. "he has reasons to hate and fear the americans. that is why he desires the death of our prisoner. he has said, time and again, over the wire that king will in some way escape and play the deuce with our plans. it does not seem possible, however. we have him absolutely secure, and olga--well, you know how she feels about it." "i don't see why he should be so disturbed by tullis," growled one of the men. "he has no real authority at court and he is but one man against an unseen army that will not strike until everything is ready. there can be no--" "that is what i have said to my master, julius, but he will not be convinced. he says that he has had experience with one american, lorry, and he knows the breed. tullis has more power at court than the people think. he is shrewd and strong and not to be caught napping. as a matter of fact, the count says, tullis has already scented danger in the air and has induced the ministry to prepare for an uprising. of course, he cannot know of the dynamiting that is to open the way to success, but it is true that if anybody can upset our plans, it is this meddling american. he is a self-appointed guardian of the prince and he is not to be sneered at. the regents are puppets, nothing more." julius spantz agreed with brutus. "i know that the guard is being strengthened and that certain precautions are being taken to prevent the abduction of the prince. it is common rumour among the soldiers that count marlanx will some day seek to overthrow the government and take the throne. the air is full of talk concerning this far-distant possibility. thank god, it is to be sooner than they think. if tullis and general braze were given a month or two longer, i doubt if we could succeed. the blow must catch them unprepared." "this is the d, saturday is the th. they can do nothing in four days," said one of the women. "count marlanx will be ready on the th. he has said so. a new strike will be declared on the railroad on the th and the strikers will be in the city with their grievances. saturday's celebration will bring men from the mountains and the mines to town. a single blow, and we have won." so spoke brutus. "then why all this fear of tullis?" demanded anna cromer. "it is not like the iron count," added madame drovnask with a sneer. olga platanova had not spoken. she was not there to talk. she was only to act on the th of july. she was the means to an end. "well, fear or no fear, the count lies awake trying to think of a way to entice him from the city before the th. it may be silly, madam, but count marlanx is a wiser man than any of us here. he is not afraid of dangloss or braze or quinnox, but he is afraid of what he calls 'american luck!' he is even superstitious about it." "we must not--we cannot fail," grated william spantz, and the cry was reiterated by half a dozen voices. "the world demands success of us!" cried anna cromer. "we die for success, we die for failure! it is all one!" the next morning, after a sleepless night, truxton king made his first determined attempt to escape. all night long he had lain there thinking of the horrid thing that was to happen on the black th. he counted the days, the hours, the minutes. morning brought the d. only three days more! oh, if he could but get one word to john tullis, the man marlanx feared; if he could only break away from these fiends long enough to utter one cry of warning to the world, even with his dying gasp! marlanx feared the americans! he even feared him, a helpless captive! the thrill of exultation that ran through his veins was but the genesis of an impulse that mastered him later on. he knew that two armed men stood guard in the outer room day and night. the door to the stairway leading into the armourer's shop was of iron and heavily barred; the door opening into the sewer was even more securely bolted; besides, there was a great stone door at the foot of the passage. the keys to these two doors were never out of the possession of william spantz; one of his guards held the key to the stairway door. his only chance lay in his ability to suddenly overpower two men and make off by way of the armourer's shop. when his little door was opened on the morning of the d, truxton king's long, powerful figure shot through as if sped by a catapult. the man with the candle and the knife went down like a beef, floored by a blow on the jaw. the american, his eyes blazing with hope and desperation, kept onward--to find himself face to face with olga platanova! she was staring at him with frightened eyes, her lips apart, her hands to her breast. the tableau was brief. he could not strike her down. with a curse he was turning to the man on the floor, eager to snatch the keys from his belt. a scream from her drawn lips held him; he whirled and looked into the now haggard face of the girl he had considered beautiful. the penalty for her crime was already written there. she was to die in three days! "he has not the key!" she cried. "nor have i. you have no chance to escape. go back! go back! they are coming!" a key rattled in the door. when it swung open, two men stood in the aperture, both with drawn pistols. the girl leaped between them and the helpless, defeated american. "remember!" she cried. "you are not to kill him!" peter brutus had risen from the floor, half dazed but furious. he made a vicious leap at king, his knife ready for the lunge. "i'm glad it's you," roared king, leaping aside. his fist shot out and again brutus went down. the men in the doorway actually laughed. "a good blow, even if it avails you nothing," said one of them drily. "he is not an especial favorite with us. return to your room at once. miss platanova, call your uncle. it is now necessary to bind the fellow's hands. they are too dangerous to be allowed to roam at large in this fashion." all day long truxton paced his little prison, bitterly lamenting his ill-timed effort. now he would be even more carefully guarded. his hands were bound behind his back; he was powerless. if he had only waited! luck had been against him. how was he to know that the guard with the keys had gone upstairs when olga brought his breakfast down? it was fate. the d dragged itself into the past and the th was following in the gloomy wake of its predecessors. two days more! he began to feel the approach of madness! his own death was not far away. it would follow that of the prince and of olga platanova, his friend. but he was not thinking of his own death; he was thinking of the prince's life! the atmosphere of suppressed excitement that characterised the hushed gatherings in the outer room did not fail to leave its impression upon him; he knew there was murder in the hearts of these fanatics; he could feel the strain that held their hitherto vehement lips to tense whisperings and mutterings. he could distinguish the difference between the footsteps of to-day and those of yesterday; the tread was growing lighter, unconsciously more stealthy with each passing hour. forty-eight hours! that was all! truxton found himself crying bitterly from time to time; not because he was in terror but because he knew of the thing that hourly drew nearer despite the fact that he knew! olga platanova's voice was heard no more before the committee of ten. something told him that she was being groomed and primed in an upstairs room! primed like a gun of war! he wondered if she could be praying for courage to do the thing that had been set down for her to do. food now came irregularly to him. she was no longer preparing it. she was making herself ready! early that night, as he lay with his ear to the crack of the door, he heard them discussing his own death. it was to come as soon as olga had gone to her reward! she was not there to defend him. spantz had said that she was praying in her room, committing her soul to god! truxton king suddenly pricked up his ears, attracted by a sentence that fell from the lips of one of the men. "tullis is on his way to the hills of dawsbergen by this time. he will be out of the way on the th safe enough." "count marlanx was not to be satisfied until he had found the means to draw him away from edelweiss," said another. "this time it will work like a charm. late this afternoon tullis was making ready to lead a troop of cavalry into the hills to effect a rescue. sancta maria! that was a clever stroke! not only does he go himself, but with him goes a captain with one hundred soldiers from the fort. ha, ha! marlanx is a fox! a very exceptional fox!" tullis off to the hills? with soldiers, to effect a rescue! truxton sat up, his brain whirling. "a wise fox!" agreed peter brutus, thickly. his lips were terribly swollen from king's final blow. "tullis goes off chasing a jack-o'-lantern in the hills; marlanx sits by and laughs at the joke he's played. it is good! almost too good to be true. i wonder what our fine prisoner will say to it when the new prisoner comes to keep him company over the th." chapter xii a new prisoner arrives it was far past midnight when king was roused from the doze into which he had fallen, exhausted and disconsolate, an hour earlier. sounds of unusual commotion reached him from the outer room. instantly he was wide awake, breathing heavily in the sudden overpowering fear that he had slept for many hours and that the time had come for the conspirators to go forth. was it the th? loud, quick commands came to his ears; the moving of eager footsteps; the drawing of bolts. "they are here at last," he heard some one say. "god, this suspense has been horrible. but they are here." "stand ready, then, with the guns!" cried peter brutus. "it may be a trick, after all. don't open that door down there, spantz, until you know who is on the outside." then followed a long interval of dead silence. "it's all right," came at last in the relieved, eager voice of peter brutus. "clear the way, comrades. give them room! by our holy father, this is a brave triumph. ah!" heavy footsteps clogged into the room, accompanied by stertorous breathing and no small amount of grunting from masculine throats. doors were closed, bolts shot, and then many voices let loose their flow of eager exclamations. not one, but three or four languages were spoken by the excited, intense occupants of the outer room; king could, make nothing of what they said. finally the sharp, incisive voice of william spantz broke through the babble, commanding silence. "still unconscious," he said, when some measure of order was secured. "yes," grunted one of the men, evidently a newcomer. "since we left the house above the ramparts. no need for gags or bonds, but we used them, just the same. now that we are here, what is to be done?" "we will have our instructions to-morrow. the count is to inform us before nightfall where she is to be removed to. next week she is to go to schloss marlanx." brutus inserted a cruel, heartless laugh, and then added: "there she is to remain until he is quite ready to take her to new apartments--in town. trust the master to dispose of her properly. he knows how to handle women by this time." a woman, thought truxton. the countess! they had brought her here from balak, after all. what a remorseless brute marlanx must be to maltreat his beautiful wife as--truxton did not complete the angry reflection. words from the other side of the door checked the train of thought. "to my mind, she is more beautiful than his own wife," observed anna cromer. "she will be a fine morsel for the count, who has even cast longing eyes on so homely a mortal as i." "all women are alike to him," said spantz sententiously. "i hope she is not to be left here for long. i don't like women about at a time like this. no offence, madame drovnask." "she'll go to-morrow night, i'm sure," said peter. "i told the count we could not keep her here over the--over the th. you see, there is a bare possibility that none of us may ever come back after the bomb is hurled. see? we don't want a woman to die of starvation down here, in that event. i don't care what happens to the man in there. but the count does not want this one to starve. oh, no; not he." "we must put her in the room with the american for the present. you are sure he will take her away before saturday? a woman's cries are most distressing." it was spantz who spoke. "i'll stop her crying," volunteered anna cromer harshly. "i fancy you could, my dear," agreed spantz. they all laughed. "she's regaining her senses," exclaimed one of the men. "stand back, every one. give her air." "air?" cried anna cromer. "it's at a premium down here, raoul." presently the door to king's room was thrown open. he had got to his feet and was standing in the centre of the room, his eyes blinking in the glare of light. "holloh!" cried peter brutus, "you up, eh? we've got a fair lady for you, my friend. get back there, you dog! keep in your corner." truxton faced the ugly crowd beyond the door for a moment and then fell back to the corner to watch the proceedings with wondering, pitying eyes. "you are a fine bunch of human beings," he blurted out, savage with despair and rage. no one gave heed to the compliment. a man with a lighted candle entered first, holding the light above his head. he was followed by two others, who supported the drooping, tottering figure of a woman. "let her sit there against the wall, drago. julius, fetch in more candles. she must not be left in the dark. _he_ says she is not to be frightened to death. women are afraid of the dark--and strange dogs. let there be light," scoffed peter brutus, spitting toward king. "i'll get you for that some day," grated the american, white with anger. peter hesitated, then spat again and laughed loudly. "enough!" commanded william spantz. "we are not children." turning to king he went on, a touch of kindness in his voice: "cheer her if you can. she is one of your class. do not let the lights go out." raising his hands, he fairly drove the others from the doorway. an instant later, king and his miserable, half-conscious companion were alone, locked in together, the fitful light from the candle on the floor playing hide and seek in shadows he had not seen before during his age of imprisonment. for a long time he stood in his corner, watching the figure huddled against the opposite wall. her face was not plainly visible, her head having dropped forward until the chin nestled in the lace jabot at her throat. a mass of tangled hair fell across her eyes; her arms hung limply at her sides; small, modish riding hoots showed beneath the hem of her skin, forlorn in their irresoluteness. her garments were sadly bedraggled; a pathetic breast rose and fell in choking sobs and gasps. suddenly he started forward, his eyes wide and staring. he had seen that grey riding habit before! he had seen the hair! two eager steps he took and then halted, half way. she had heard him and was raising her eyes, bewildered and wavering between dreamland and reality. "great jehovah!" he gasped, unbelieving. "you? my god, is it you?" he dropped to his knees before her, peering into her startled eyes. a look of abject terror crossed the tired, tear-stained face. she shrank away from him, shivering, whimpering like a cowed child. "what is it? where am i?" she moaned. "oh, let me go! what have i done, that you should bring me here? let me go, mr. king! you are not so wicked as--" "i? i bring you here?" he interrupted, aghast. then he understood. utter dismay filled his eyes. "you think that i have done this thing to you? god above us! look! i, too, am a prisoner here. i've been here for days, weeks, years. they are going to kill me after to-morrow. and you think that i have done this to you!" "i don't know what--oh, mr. king, what does it all mean? forgive me! i see now. you are bound--you are suffering--you are years older. i see now. but why is it? what have you done? what have i done?" she was growing hysterical with terror. "don't shrink from me," he urged. "try to calm yourself. try to look upon me as a friend--as a possible saviour. lie quiet, do, for a little while. think it all out for yourself." he knelt there before her while she sobbed out the last agony of alarm. there were no tears in her eyes; racking sobs shook her slender body; every nerve was aquiver, he could see. patiently he waited, never taking his firm, encouraging gaze from her face. she grew calmer, more rational. then, with the utmost gentleness, he persuaded her to rise and walk about the little room with him. "it will give you strength and courage," he urged. "poor little girl! poor little girl!" she looked up into his face, a new light coming into her eyes. "don't talk now," he said softly. "take your time. hold to my arm, please. there! in a little while you'll be able to tell me all about it--and then we'll set about to find a way to escape these devils. we'll laugh at 'em, after all." for five or ten minutes he led her back and forth across the room, very tenderly. at first she was faint and uncertain; then, as her strength and wits came back to her, courage took the place of despair. she smiled wanly and asked him to sit down with her. "a way to escape, you said," she murmured, as he dropped to her side. "where are we? what is it all about?" "not so loud," he cautioned. "i'll be perfectly candid with you. you'll have to be very, very brave. but wait. perhaps it will be easier for you to tell me what has happened to you, so far as you know. i can throw light on the whole situation, i think. tell me, please, in your own way and time. we're in a sorry mess, and it looks black, but, this much i can tell you: you are to be set free in a few days, unharmed. you may rest easy. that much is assured." "and you?" she whispered, clutching his arm tightly, the swift thrill of relief dying almost as it was born. "what of you?" "oh, i'll get out all right," he affirmed with a confidence he did not feel. "i'm going to get you out of this or die in the attempt. sh! don't oppose me," he went on whimsically. "i've always wanted to be a hero, and here's my chance. now tell me what happened to you." her piquant, ever-sprightly face had lost the arrogance that had troubled all his dreams of conquest. she was pale and shivering and so sorely distressed that he had it in his heart to clasp her in his arms as one might do in trying to soothe a frightened child. her face grew cloudy with the effort to concentrate her thoughts; a piteous frown settled upon her brow. "i'm not sure that i can recall everything. it is all so terrible--so unaccountable. it's like a dream that you try to remember and cannot. finding you here in this place is really the strangest part of it. i cannot believe that i am awake." she looked long and anxiously into his face, her eyebrows drawn together in an earnest squint of uncertainty. "oh, mr. king, i have had such a dreadful--dreadful time. am i awake?" "that's what i've been asking of myself," he murmured. "i guess we're both awake all right. nightmares don't last forever." her story came haltingly; he was obliged to supply many of the details by conjecture, she was so hazy and vague in her memory. at the beginning of the narrative, however, truxton was raised to unusual heights; he felt such a thrill of exaltation that for the moment he forgot his and her immediate peril. in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner she was informing him that her search for him had not been abandoned until baron dangloss received a telegram from paris, stating that king was in a hospital there, recovering from a wound in the head. "you can imagine what i thought when i saw you here a little while, ago," she said, again looking hard at his face as if to make sure. "we had looked everywhere for you. you see, i was ashamed. that man from cook's told us that you were hurt by--by the way i treated you the day before you disappeared, and--well, he said you talked very foolishly about it." he drew a long breath. somehow he was happier than he had been before. "hobbs is a dreadful ass," he managed to say. it seems that the ministry was curiously disturbed by the events attending the disappearance of the countess ingomede. the deception practised upon john tullis, frustrated only by the receipt of a genuine message from the countess, was enough to convince the authorities that something serious was afoot. it may have meant no more than the assassination of tullis at the hands of a jealous husband; or it may have been a part of the vast conspiracy which dangloss now believed to be in progress of development. "development!" truxton king had exclaimed at this point in her narrative. "good god, if dangloss only knew what i know!" there had been a second brief message from the countess. she admitted that she was with her husband at the axphain capital. this message came to tullis and was to the effect that she and the count were leaving almost immediately for a stay at biarritz in france. "mr. king," said the narrator, "the countess lied. they did not go to biarritz. i am convinced now that she is in the plot with that vile old man. she may even expect to reign in graustark some day if his plans are carried out. i saw count marlanx yesterday. he was in graustark. i knew him by the portrait that hangs in the duke of perse's house--the portrait that ingomede always frowns at when i mention it to her. so, they did not go to france." she was becoming excited. her eyes flashed; she spoke rapidly. on the morning of the d she had gone for her gallop in the famous ganlook road, attended by two faithful grooms from the royal stables. "i was in for a longer ride than usual," she said, with sudden constraint. she looked away from her eager listener. "i was nervous and had not slept the night before. a girl never does, i suppose." he looked askance. "yes?" he queried. she was blushing, he was sure of it. "i mean a girl is always nervous and distrait after--after she has promised, don't you see." "no, i don't see." "i had promised count vos engo the night before that i--oh, but it really has nothing to do with the story. i--" truxton was actually glaring at her. "you mean that you had promised to marry count vos engo!" he stammered. "we will not discuss--" "but did you promise to be his wife? is he the man you love?" he insisted. she stared at him in surprise and no little resentment. "i beg of you, mr. king--" she began, but he interrupted her. "forgive me. i'm a fool. don't mind me." he sank back against the wall, the picture of dejection. "it doesn't matter, anyway. i've got to die in a day or two, so what's the odds?" "how very strangely you talk. are you sure--i mean, do you think it is fever? one suffers so--" he sighed deeply. "well, that's over! whew! it was a dream, by jove!" "i don't understand." "please go on." she waited a moment and then, looking down, said very gently: "i'm so sorry for you." he laughed, for he thought she pitied him because he had awakened from the dream. then she resumed her story, not to be interrupted again. he seemed to have lost all interest. she had gone six or eight miles down the ganlook road when she came up with five troopers of the royal guard. it was a lonely spot at the junction of the king's highway and the road to the mines. one of the troopers came forward and respectfully requested her to turn off into the mine road until a detachment passed, in charge of a gang of desperadoes taken at the inn of the hawk and raven the night before. unsuspecting, she rode off into the forest lane for several hundred yards. it was a trap. the men were not troopers, but brigands gotten up in the uniform of the guard. once away from the main highway, they made prisoners of her and the two grooms. then followed a long ride through roads new to her. at noon they came to a halt while the rascals changed their clothing, appearing in their true garb, that of the mountaineer. half dead with dread, she heard them discussing their plans; they spoke quite freely in the presence of the well-beaten grooms, who were led to expect death before many hours. it was the design of the bandits to make their way to the almost impregnable fastnesses in the hills of dawsbergen, the wild principality to the south. there they could hold her against all hope of rescue, until an immense sum of money was paid over in ransom by her dispairing friends. when night came they were high in the mountains back of the monastery, many hours ahead of any pursuit. they became stupidly careless, and the two grooms made a dash for freedom. one of them was killed, but the other escaped. she was afterward to recall that no effort was made to recapture him; they deliberately allowed him to escape, their cunning purpose becoming only too apparent later on. instead of hurrying on to dawsbergen, they dropped swiftly down into the valley above the city. no secret was made of the ruse they had employed to mislead the prospective pursuers. the rescue party, they swore joyously, would naturally be led by john tullis; he would go with all haste to the dawsbergen hills. the word of the trusty groom would be taken as positive proof that the captive was in that country. she shuddered as she listened to their exultant chuckles. it had been a most cunningly conceived plan and it promised to result profitably for them in the end. some time during the slow, torturing ride through the forest she swooned. when she came to her senses she was in a dimly lighted room, surrounded by men. the gag had been removed from her mouth. she would have shrieked out in her terror, had not her gaze rested upon the figure of a man who sat opposite, his elbows on the back of the chair which he straddled, his chin on his arms. he was staring at her steadily, his black eyes catching her gaze and holding it as a snake holds the bird it has charmed. she recognised the hard, hawk-like face. there could be no mistake. she was looking into the face that made the portrait of the iron count so abhorrent to her: the leathery head of a cadaver with eyes that lived. a portrait of voltaire, the likeness of a satyr, a suggestion of satan--all rushed up from memory's storehouse to hold her attention rapt in contemplation of this sinister figure. he smiled. it was like the crumpling of soft leather. then, with a word to one of the men, he abruptly left the room. after that she broke down and cried herself into the sleep of exhaustion. all the next day she sat limp and helpless in the chair they had brought to her. she could neither eat nor drink. late in the afternoon marlanx came again. she knew not from whence he came: he stood before her suddenly, as if produced by the magic of some fabled genie, smiling blandly, his hands clasped behind his back, his attitude one of lecherous calculation. truxton king ground his teeth with rage and despair while she was breathlessly repeating the suave compliments that oozed from the lips of the tormentor. "he laughed when i demanded that he should restore me to my friends. he chided me when i pleaded and begged for mercy. my questions were never answered. he only said that no harm was to come to me; i was merely touching purgatory that i might better appreciate paradise when i came to it. oh, it was horrible! i thought i would go mad. finally i called him a beast; i don't know what else i said. he merely smiled. presently he called one of the men into the room. he said something about a sewer and a hole in the ground. then the man went out and i heard the clicking of a telegraph instrument. i heard certain instructions. i was to be taken to a certain place in the city at nightfall and kept there until to-morrow night, when i am again to be removed by way of the river. that is all i know. where am i, mr. king? oh, this dreadful place! why are we here--you and i?" king's heart throbbed fiercely one more. he was looking straight into the piteous, wondering eyes; his gaze fell to the parted, tremulous lips. a vast hunger possessed his soul. in that moment he could have laid down his life for her, with a smile of rejoicing. then he told her why she was there, why he was there--and of the th. the dreadful th! her eyes grew wide with horror and understanding; her bosom rose and fell rapidly with the sobs of suppressed terror. at last he had finished his stupefying tale; they sat side by side staring into each other's eyes, helpless, stricken. "god in heaven!" she repeated over and over again, in a piteous whisper. the candle flickered with feeble interest in the shadows that began to grow in the farthest corner. the girl drew closer to the side of the strong yet powerless man. their gaze went to the sputtering candle. it was going out and they would be in utter darkness. and yet neither thought of the supply of fresh candles in the corner. king brought himself out of the strange lethargy with a jerk. it was high time, for the light was going. "quick!" he cried. "the candle! light a fresh one. my hands are bound." she crept to the candles and joined the wicks. a new light grew as the old one died. then she stood erect, looking down upon him. "you are bound. i forgot." she started forward, dropping to her knees beside him, an eager gleam in her eyes. "if i can untie the rope--will that help? can you do anything? you are strong. there must be a way. there must be one little chance for you--for us. let me try." "by jove," he whispered admiringly, his spirits leaping to meet hers. "you've got pluck. you put new life in me. i--i was almost a--a quitter." "you have been here so long," she explained quickly. "and tied all these days." she was tugging at the knot. "only since i gave that pleasant punch to peter brutus." "that shows what you can do," she whispered warmly. "oh, i wonder! i wonder if we have a chance! anyway, your arms will be free. i shall feel safer if your arms are free." he sat with his back to her while she struggled with the stubborn knots. a delicious thrill of pleasure swept over him. she had said she would feel safer if his arms were free! she was struggling, with many a tense straining of delicate fingers, to undo the bonds which held him helpless. the touch of her eager fingers, the closeness of her body, the warmth of her breathing--he was beginning to hope that the effort might be prolonged interminably. at last, after many despairing tugs, the knot relaxed. "there!" she cried, sinking back exhausted. "oh, how it must have hurt you! your wrists are raw!" he suppressed the tactless impulse to say that he preferred a rope on the wrists to one about his neck, realising that the jest could only shock and not amuse her under the present conditions. his arms were stiff and sore and hung like lead at his sides. she watched him, with narrowed eyes, while he stood off and tried to work blood and strength back into his muscles. "do you think you can--can do anything now, mr. king?" she asked, after a long interval. he would not tell her how helpless he was, even with his hands free. so he smiled bravely and sought to reassure her with the most imposing boasts he could utter. she began to breathe easier; the light in her eyes grew brighter, more hopeful. "we must escape," she said, as if it were all settled. "it cannot be to-night," he gently informed her, a sickness attacking her heart. "don't you think you'd better try to get some sleep?" he prevailed upon her to lie down, with his coat for a pillow. in two minutes she was asleep. for an hour or more he sat there, looking sorrowfully at the tired, sweet face, the utmost despair in his soul. at last he stretched himself out on the floor, near the door, and as he went to sleep he prayed that providence might open a way for him to prove that she was not depending on him in vain. chapter xiii a divinity shapes it was pitch dark when he awoke. "by heaven, it was a dream, after all," he murmured. "well, thank god for that. she isn't in this damnable hole. and," with a quickening of the blood, "she hasn't said she was going to marry vos engo." the sound of light breathing came to his ears. he sat up. his hands were free. it had not been a dream. she _was_ lying over there asleep. the candle had burnt itself out, that was all. he crept softly across the floor; in the darkness he found her, and touched the garments she wore--and drew back enthralled. a strange joy filled him; she was his for the time being. they were equals in this direful, unlovely place; royal prejudice stood for nothing here. the mad desire to pick her up in his arms and hold her close came over him--only to perish as quickly as it flamed. what was he thinking of? she stirred restlessly as he crept back to the door. the sharp, quick intake of her breath told him that she was awake. he stopped and utter silence fell upon the room. a little moan escaped her lips: "who is it? why is it so dark? what--" "it is i," he whispered eagerly. "king. don't be afraid. the candle burnt out while we were asleep. i did not intend to sleep. i'm sorry. we can't have a light now until some one comes in the morning. don't be afraid." "i am afraid. where are you?" "here!" he hastened to her side. as he came up she touched his face with her hand timorously. he caught the wayward fingers in his own and held them, drawing quite close to her. "it's all right," he said. "will they come soon?" "i hope not--i mean, yes; it must be morning." "i loathe the dark," she sighed. presently her head dropped over against his shoulder and she was asleep again. "i don't give a damn if they never come," thought truxton king, intoxicated with bliss. afraid to move for fear of disturbing her, he sat there for an hour or more his back twisted and uncomfortable, but never so resolute. he would not have moved for all the world. all this time his brain was working like mad in the new-found desire to perform miracles for the sake of this lovely, unattainable creature. was there no way to foil these triumphant conspirators? he was forgetting the prince, the horrors of the th; he was thinking only of saving this girl from the fate that marlanx had in store for her. vos engo may have had the promise, but what could it profit him if marlanx had the girl? "i've got about as much chance as a snowball," he reflected, courage and decision growing stronger each moment. "i might just as well die one way as another. if i could only catch 'em napping for a minute, i might turn the trick. god, that would be--" he was lost in ecstatic contemplation of the glory that such an event would bring. footsteps in the outer room recalled him to the bitter reality of their position. he awoke her and whispered words of encouragement into her bewildered ears. then he put on his coat and threw himself on the floor, first wrapping the rope about his wrists to deceive the guard. a key turned in the padlock and the bolt was raised. old man spantz stood in the doorway, peering in at them. in surly tones truxton replied to his sharp query, saying that the candle had gone out while he slept. "it is noon," said the old man irascibly. then he came in and lighted a candle. "noon of the th," said truxton bitterly. "in twenty-four hours it will be all over, eh, spantz?" "at noon to-morrow," said spantz grimly. there were half a dozen men in the outer room, conversing in low, excited tones; the fervent gesticulations which usually marked their discussions were missing, proving the constraint that had descended upon them. one of them--it was julius spantz--brought in the food for the prisoners, setting it on the floor between them. "it is usually the duty of our friend julius to feed me," observed truxton to his fellow-prisoner. "i dare say he won't mind if you relieve him of the task." "she can feed you if she likes," growled julius. "julius?" queried the girl from the castle, peering at the man. "not julius spantz, of the armoury?" "the same," said truxton. julius laughed awkwardly and withdrew. "son of our distinguished host here. permit me to present herr william--" "enough," snarled william spantz, with a threatening movement toward king. his manner changed completely, however, when he turned to address the young lady. "i beg to inform you, madam, that your stay in this unwholesome place is to be brief. pray endure it for the remainder of this day. to-night you will be removed to more pleasant quarters, that a friend has prepared for you. i may say to you, however, that it will he necessary to place a gag in your mouth before you depart. this is to be a critical night in our affairs." he lifted an inspired gaze heavenward. "let me assure you, madam, that the two gentlemen who are to conduct you to the count's--to your new quarters, are considerate, kindly men; you need feel no further alarm. i am requested to tell you this, so that you may rest easy for the balance of the day. as for you, my friend," turning to truxton and smiling ironically, "i deeply deplore the fact that you are to remain. you may be lonesome in the dead hours, for, as you may imagine, we, your dearest friends, will be off about a certain business that is known to you, if i mistake not in believing that you have listened at the door these many nights. when we next gather in the room beyond, a new dispensation will have begun. you may be interested then to hear what we have to say--out there." truxton was silent for a moment, a sudden, swift thought flooding his brain. controlling the quiver of anticipation in his voice, he took occasion to say: "i only hope you'll not forget to come back. i should be lonesome, spantz." "oh, we'll not forget you." "i suppose not. by the way, would you mind telling me what has become of your niece?" spantz glared at him. "she does not meet with us now. my niece is consecrating her every thought to the task that lies before her. you will not see her again." "it's an infernal shame, that's what it is," exclaimed king, "to put it all upon that poor girl! god, i'd give ten years of my life to lead her out of this devil's mess. she's too good for--for that. it's--" "she will be out of it, as you say, to-morrow, my excellent samaritan. she knows." there could be no mistake as to the meaning of the prophetic words. with a profound bow to the lady and a leer for king, he departed, bolting the door behind him. instantly king was at her side. "an idea has come to me," he whispered eagerly. "i think i see a way. by george, if it should only happen as i hope it may!" "tell me!" she insisted. "not now. i must think it all out carefully. it won't do to get your hopes up and then fail." whatever the thought was that had come to him, it certainly had put new life and hope into him. she nibbled at the unwholesome food, never removing her eyes from his tall, restless figure as he paced the floor, his brows knit in thought. finally he sat down beside her, calmly helping himself to a huge slice of bread and a boiled carrot. "i've never liked carrots before. i love 'em now. i'm taking them for my complexion." "don't jest, mr. king. what is it you intend to do? please tell me. i must know. you heard what he said about taking me to the count's. he meant marlanx. i will die first." "no. i will die first. by the way, i may as well tell you that i wasn't thinking altogether of how we are to escape. there was something else on my mind." he stopped and looked at her puzzled face. "why should i save you from marlanx just to have you hurry off and get married to vos engo? it's a mean thought, i know," hastily, "and unworthy of a typical hero, but, just the same, i hate to think of you marrying some one--else." "some one else?" she questioned, a pucker on her forehead. "oh, i know i wouldn't have a ghost of a chance, even if there wasn't a vos engo. it isn't that," he explained. "i recognise the--er--difference in our stations and--" "are you crazy, mr. king?" "not now. i was a bit touched, i think, but i'm over it now. i dare say it was caused by excessive reading of improbable romances. life rather takes it out of a fellow, don't you know. it's all simple enough in books, but in--" "what has all this got to do with your plan to escape?" "nothing at all. it merely has to do with my ambition to become a true hero. you see, i'm an amateur hero. of course, this is good practice for me; in time, i may become an expert and have no difficulty in winning a duchess or even a princess. don't misunderstand me. i intend to do all i can toward rescuing you to-night. the point i'm trying to get at is this: don't you think it's pretty rough on a hero to save the girl for some other fellow to snap up and marry?" "i think i begin to see," she said, a touch of pink coming into her cheeks. "that's encouraging," he said, staring gloomily at the food he had put aside. "you are quite sure you promised vos engo that you'd marry him?" "no. i did not promise him that i'd marry him," she said, leaning back and surveying him between narrowed lids. "i beg your pardon. you said you had promised--" "you did not allow me time to finish. i meant to say that i had promised to let him know in a day or two. that is all, mr. king." there was a suspicious tremor in her voice and her gaze wavered beneath his unbelieving stare. "what's that?" he demanded. "you--you don't mean to say that--oh, lord! i wonder! i wonder if i have a chance--just a ghost of a chance?" he leaned very close, incredulous, fascinated. "what is it that you are going to let him know? yes or no?" "that was the question i was considering when the brigands caught me," she answered, meeting his gaze fairly. "i haven't thought of it since." "of course, he is in your own class," said truxton glumly. she hesitated an instant, her face growing very serious. "mr. king, has no one told you my name--who i am?" she asked. "you are the prince's aunt, that's all i know." "no more his aunt in reality than jack tullis is his uncle. i thought you understood." "who are you, then?" "i am jack tullis's sister, a new yorker bred and born, and i live not more than two blocks from your--" "for the love of--" he began blankly; then words failed him, which was just as well. he gulped twice, joy or unbelief choking him. the smile that crept into her face dazzled him; he stared at her in speechless amazement. "then--then, you are not a duchess or a--" he began again. "not at all. a very plain new yorker," she said, laughing aloud in sudden hysteria. for some reason she drew quickly away from him. "you are not disappointed, are you? does it spoil your romance to--" "spoil it? disappointed? no! by george, i--i can't believe that any such luck--no, no, i don't mean it just that way! let me think it out. let me get it through my head." he leaned back against the wall and devoured her with eager, disturbing eyes. "you are tullis's sister? you live near--oh, i say, this is glorious!" he arose and took a turn about the room. in some nervousness and uncertainty she also came to her feet, watching him wonderingly. he hurried back to her, a new light in his eyes. she was very desirable, this slender, uncertain person in the crumpled grey. "miss tullis," he said, a thrill in his voice, "you are a princess, just the same. i never was so happy in my life as i am this minute. it isn't so black as it was. i thought i couldn't win you because you--" "win me?" she gasped, her lips parted in wonder. "precisely. now i'm looking at it differently. i don't mind telling you that i'm in love with you--desperately in love. it's been so with me ever since that day in the park. i loved you as a duchess or a princess, and without hope. now, i--i--well, i'm going to hope. perhaps vos engo has the better of me just now, but i'm in the lists with him--with all of them. if i get you out of this place--and myself as well--i want you to understand that from this very minute i am trying to win you if it lies in the power of any american to win a girl who has suitors among the nobility. will--will you give me a chance--just a ghost of a chance? i'll try to do the rest." "are--are you really in earnest?" she murmured, composure flying to the winds. "yes; terribly so," he said gently. "i mean every word of it. i do love you." "i--i cannot talk about it now, mr. king," she fluttered, moving away from him in a sudden panic. presently he went over to her. she was standing near the candle, staring down at the flame with a strangely preoccupied expression in her eyes. "forgive me," he said. "i was hasty, inconsiderate. i--" "you quite took my breath away," she panted, looking up at him with a queer little smile. "i know," he murmured. her troubled gaze resumed its sober contemplation of the flame. "how was i to tell--" she began, but checked herself. "please, mr. king, you won't say anything more to me about--about it,--just now, will you? shall we talk of our plans for to-night? tell me about them." he lowered his eyes, suddenly disheartened. "i only ask you to believe that i am desperately in earnest." "i cannot comprehend how--i mean, it is so very wonderful. you don't think me unappreciative, or mean, do you?" "of course not. you are startled, that's all. i'm a blundering fool. still, you must agree that i was frightfully bowled over when i found that you were not what i thought. i couldn't hold back, that's all. by jove, isn't it wonderful? here i've been looking all over the world for you, only to find that you've been living around the corner from me all these years! it's positively staggering! why," with a sudden burst of his unquenchable buoyancy, "we might have been married two years ago and saved all this trouble. just think of it!" she smiled. "i do like you," she said warmly, giving him her hand. he kissed it gallantly and stepped back--resolutely. "that's something," he said with his humblest, most conquering smile. "you won't leave me to my fate because you think i'm going to marry--some one else?" he grew very sober. "miss tullis, you and i have one chance in a thousand. you may as well know the truth." "oh, i can't bear the thought of that dreadful old man," she cried, abject distress in her eyes. he gritted his teeth and turned away. she went back to the corner, dully rearranging the coat he had given her for comfort. she handled it with a tenderness that would have astonished the garment had it been capable of understanding. for a long time she watched him in silence as he paced to and fro like a caged lion. twice she heard him mutter: "an american girl--good lord," and she found herself smiling to herself--the strange, vagrant smile that comes of wonder and self-gratification. late in the afternoon--long hours in which they had spoken to each other with curious infrequency, each a prey to sombre thoughts--their door was unlocked and anna cromer appeared before them, accompanied by two of the men. crisply she commanded the girl to come forth; she wanted to talk with her. she was in the outer room for the better part of an hour, listening to anna cromer and madame drovnask, who dinned the praises of the great count marlanx into her ears until she was ready to scream. they bathed the girl's face and brushed her hair and freshened her garments. it occurred to her that she was being prepared for a visit of the redoubtable marlanx himself, and put the question plainly. "no," said anna cromer. "he's not coming here. you are going to him. he will not be count marlanx after to-morrow, but citizen marlanx--one of the people, one of us. ah, he is a big man to do this." little did they know marlanx! "julius and peter will come for you to-night," said madame drovnask, with an evil, suggestive smile. "we will not be here to say farewell, but, my dear, you will be one of us before--well, before many days have passed." truxton was beginning to tremble with the fear that she would not be returned to their room, when the door was opened and she came in--most gladly, he could see. the two women bade him a cool, unmistakable _good-bye_, and left him in charge of the men who had just come down from the shop above. for half an hour peter brutus taunted him. it was all he could do to keep his hands wrapped in the rope behind his back; he was thankful when they returned him to his cell. the time was not ripe for the dash he was now determined to make. "get a little nap, if you can," he said to loraine, when the door was locked behind him. "it won't be long before something happens. i've got a plan. you'll have your part to play. god grant that it may work out well for us. you--you might pray if--if--" "yes, i _can_ pray," she said simply. "i'll do my part, mr. king." he waited a moment. "we've been neighbours in new york for years," he said. "would you mind calling me truxton,--and for adele's sake, too?" "it isn't hard to do, truxton." "good!" he exclaimed. she rebelled at the mere thought of sleep, but, unfastening her collar and removing the jabot, she made herself a comfortable cushion of his coat and sat back in her corner, strangely confident that this strong, eager american would deliver her from the philistines--this fighting american with the ten days' growth of beard on his erstwhile merry face. sometime in the tense, suffocating hours of the night they heard the sounds of many footsteps shuffling about the outer room; there were hoarse, guttural, subdued good-byes and well-wishes, the creaking of heavy doors and the dropping of bolts. eventually king, who had been listening alertly, realised that but two of the men remained in the room--peter brutus and julius spantz. an hour crept by, and another, seemingly interminable king was fairly groaning under the suspense. the time was slowly, too slowly approaching when he was to attempt the most desperate act in all this sanguinary tragedy--the last act for him, no doubt, but the one in which he was to see himself glorified. there remained the chance--the slim chance that only providence considers. he had prayed for strength and cunning; she had prayed for divine intervention. but, after all, luck was to be the referee. he had told her of his plan; she knew the part she was to play. and if all went well--ah, then! he took a strange lesson in the language of graustark: one sentence, that was all. she had whispered the translation to him and he had grimly repeated it, over and over again. "she has fainted, damn her!" it was to be their "open sesame"--if all went well! suddenly he started to his feet, his jaws set, his eyes gleaming. the telegraph instrument was clicking in the outer room! he had wrapped his handkerchief about his big right hand, producing a sort of cushion to deaden the sound of a blow with the fist and to protect his knuckles; for all his strength was to go into that one mighty blow. if both men came into the room, his chance was smaller; but, in either event, the first blow was to be a mighty one. taking his position near the girl, who was crouching in real dismay, he leaned against the wall, his hands behind him, every muscle strained and taut. the door opened and julius spantz, bewhiskered and awkward, entered. he wore a raincoat and storm hat, and carried a rope in one of his hands. he stopped just inside the door to survey the picture. "time you were asleep," he said stupidly, addressing king. "i'd put you to sleep, julius, if miss tullis could have managed to untie these infernal bonds," said truxton, with pleasant daring. "i don't tie lovers' knots," grinned julius, pleased with his own wit. "come, madam, i must ask you to stand up. will you put your own handkerchief in your mouth, or must i use force--ah, that's good! i'm sorry, but i must wrap this cloth about--" he did not complete the sentence, for he had come within range. the whole weight of truxton king's body was behind the terrific blow that landed on the man's jaw. loraine suppressed the scream that rose to her white lips. julius spantz's knees crumpled; he lunged against the wall and was sliding down when king caught him in his arms. the man was stunned beyond all power of immediate action. it was the work of an instant to snatch the revolver from his coat pocket. "guard the door!" whispered king to the girl, pressing the revolver into her hand. "and shoot if you have to!" a handkerchief was stuffed into the unconscious man's mouth; the long coat and boots were jerked from his limp body before his hands and feet were bound with the rope he carried; the bushy whiskers and wig were removed from his head and transferred in a flash to that of the american. then the boots, coat and hat found a new wearer. peter brutus was standing in the stairway, leading to the sewer, listening eagerly for sounds from either side. "hurry up, julius," he called imperatively. "they are below with the boat. they have given the signal." the new julius uttered a single sentence; that was all. if peter heard the noise attending the disposal of his comrade, he was justified in believing that the girl had offered some resistance. when a tall, grunting man emerged from the inner room, bearing the limp figure of a girl in a frayed raincoat, he did not wait to ask questions, but rushed over and locked the cell-door. then he led the way down the narrow stairway, lighting the passage with a candle. his only reply to king's guttural remark in the graustark language was: "don't speak, you fool! not a word until we reach the river." down the steps they went to the opening in the wall of the sewer. there, before the bolts were drawn by brutus, a series of raps were exchanged by men outside and the one who held the keys within. a moment later, the girl was being lowered through the hole into rough, eager arms. brutus and his companion dropped through, the secret block of masonry was closed, and off through the shallow waters of the sewer glided the party riverward in the noiseless boat that had come up to ferry them. there were three men in the boat, not counting truxton king. chapter xiv on the river no word was spoken during this cautious, extraordinary voyage underground. the boat drifted slowly through the narrow channel, unlighted and practically unguided. two of the men sat at the rowlocks, but the oars rested idly in the boat. with their hands they kept the craft from scraping against the walls. the pseudo-julius supported his charge in the stern of the boat; peter brutus sat in the bow, a revolver in his hand, his gaze bent upon the opaqueness ahead. a whispered word of encouragement now and then passed from the lips of the hopeful american into the ear of the almost pulseless girl, who lay up against his knee. "we'll do it--sure!" he whispered once, ever so softly. "yes," she scarcely, breathed, but he heard and was thrilled. the rope had dropped from her arms; she had taken the handkerchief from her mouth at his whispered command. at last the boat crept out into the rainy, starless night. he drew the skirts of his own mackintosh over her shoulders and head. a subdued command came from the man in the bow; the oars slipped into the deep, black waters of the river; without a splash or a perceptible sound the little craft scudded toward midstream. the night was so inky black that one could not see his hand before his face. at least two of the occupants opened up their throats and lungs and gulped in the wet, fresh air. never had anything been so glorious to truxton king as these first tremendous inhalations of pure, free air. she felt his muscles expand; his whole body grew stronger and more vital. her heart was pounding violently against his leg; he could feel its throbs, he could hear the quick, eager panting of her breath. it was now that he began to wonder, to calculate against the plans of their silent escort. whither were they bound? when would his chance come to strike the final, surprising blow? only the greatest effort at self-control kept him from ruining everything by premature action; his exultation was getting the better of him. coolness and patience were greater assets now than strength and daring. the boat turned in mid-stream and shot swiftly up the river, past the black fortress with its scattered sentry lights, where slept a garrison in sweet ignorance of the tragedy that was to come upon them when the sun was high. the lights of the city itself soon peeped down into the rain-swept waters; music from the distant cafés came faintly to the ears of the midnight voyagers. a safe haven at their very elbows, and yet unattainable. the occasional creak of an oar, a whispered oath of dismay, the heavy breathing of toilers, the soft blowing of the mist-that was all; no other sound on the broad, still river. it was, indeed, a night fit for the undertaking at hand. truxton began to chafe under the strain. his uneasiness was increased by the certain conviction that before long they would be beyond the city, the walls of which were gradually slipping past he could not even so much as guess at their destination. there was also the likelihood of encountering reinforcements, sent out to meet the boatmen, or for protection at the time of landing. a hundred doubts and misgivings assailed him. to suddenly open fire on the rascals went against the grain. a dashing, running fight on shore was more to his liking. an ill-timed move would foil them even as success was in their grasp. he considered their chances if he were to overturn the frail boat and strike out for shore in the darkness. this project he gave up at once: he did not know the waters nor the banks between which they glided. they were past the walls now and rowing less stealthily. before long they would be in a position to speak aloud; it would be awkward for him. the situation was rapidly growing more and more desperate; the time was near at hand when the final effort would have to be exerted. he slipped the revolver from his pocket; somehow he was unable to keep his teeth from chattering; but it was through excitement, not fear. suddenly the boat turned to the right and shot toward the unseen bank. they were perhaps half a mile above the city wall. truxton's mind was working like a trip-hammer. he was recalling a certain nomad settlement north of the city, the quarters of fishermen, poachers and horse-traders: a squalid, unclean community that lay under the walls between the northern gates and the river. these people, he was not slow to surmise, were undoubtedly hand in glove with marlanx, if not so surely connected with the misguided committee of ten. this being the eve of the great uprising, it was not unlikely that a secret host lay here awake and ready for the foul observance of the coming holiday; here, at least, chafed an eager, vicious, law-hating community of mendicants and outcasts. he had little time to speculate on the attitude of the denizens of this unwholesome place. the prow of the boat grated on the pebbly bank, and peter brutus leaped over the edge into the shallow water. "come on, julius--hand her over to me!" he cried, making his way to the stern. as he leaned over the side to seize the girl in his arms, truxton king brought the butt of the heavy revolver down upon his skull. brutus dropped across the gunwale with a groan, dead to all that was to happen in the next half hour or more. king was anxious to avoid the hullaballoo that shooting was sure to create on shore. action had been forced upon him rather precipitously, but he was ready. leaning forward, he had the two amazed oarsmen covered with the weapon. "hands up! quick!" he cried. two pairs of hands went up, together with strange oaths. truxton's eyes had grown used to the darkness; he could see the men quite plainly. "what are you doing?" he demanded of loraine, who, behind him, was fumbling in the garments of the unconscious brutus. "getting his revolver," she replied, with a quaver in her voice. "good!" he said exultantly. "let's think a minute," he went on. "we don't dare turn these fellows loose, even if we disarm them. they'll have a crowd after us in two minutes." still, keeping the men covered, he cudgelled his brain for the means of disposing of them. "i have it. we must disarm them, tie them up and set 'em adrift. do you mind getting out into the water? it's ankle deep, that's all. i'll keep them covered while you take their guns." "nice way to treat a friend," growled one of the men. "a friend? by george, it's my newport acquaintance. well, this is a pleasure! i suppose you know that i'll shoot if you resist. better take it quietly." "oh, you'll shoot, all right," said the other. "i told them damn fools that a yankee'd get the better of 'em, even if they ran a steam roller over him two or three times. say, you're a pippin! i'd like to take off my hat to you." "don't bother. i acknowledge the tribute." loraine tullis was in the water by this time. with nervous haste she obeyed king's instructions; the big revolvers were passed back to him. "i've changed my mind," said truxton' suddenly. "we'll keep the boat. get in, miss tullis. there! now, push off, newport." "what the devil--" began newport, but king silenced him. the boat slowly drifted out into the current. "now, row!" he commanded. with his free hand he reached back and dragged the limp brutus into the boat. "'gad, i believe he's dead," he muttered. for five minutes the surly oarsmen pulled away, headed in the direction from which they came. "can you swim?" demanded king. "not a stroke," gasped newport. "good lord, pal, you're not going to dump us overboard. it's ten feet deep along here." "pull on your left, hard. that's right. i'm going to land you on the opposite shore-and then bid you a cheerful good-night." two minutes later they ran up under the western bank of the stream, which at this point was fully three hundred yards wide. the nearest bridge was a mile and a half away and habitations were scarce, as he well knew. under cover of the deadly revolver, the two men dropped into the water, which was above their waists; the limp form of peter brutus was pulled out and transferred to the shoulders of his companions. "good-night," called out truxton king cheerily. he had grasped the oars; the little boat leaped off into the night, leaving the cursing desperadoes waist-deep in the chilly waters. "see you later," sang out newport, with sudden humour. "we'll go south," said truxton king to the girl who sat in the stern, clutching the sides of the boat with tense fingers. "i don't know just where we'll land, but it won't be up in devil's patch, you may rest assured of that. pardon me if i do not indulge in small talk and bonmots; i'm going to be otherwise employed for some time, miss tullis. do you know the river very well?" "not at all," she replied. "i only know that the barge docks are below here somewhere. i'm sure we can get into the city if we can find the docks. let me take the oars, too, mr. king. i can row." "no. please sit where you are and keep your eyes ahead. can you see where we're going?" "i can see the lights. we're in mid-stream, i think. it's so very dark and the wind is coming up in a gale. it's--it's going to storm. don't you think we'd better try for a landing along the walls? they say the river is very treacherous." she was trembling like a leaf. "i'll row over to the east side, but i don't like to get too close to the walls. some one may have heard the shouts of our friends back there." not another word passed between them for ten or twelve minutes. she peered anxiously ahead, looking for signs of the barge dock, which lay somewhere along this section of the city wall. in time, of course, the marooned desperadoes might be expected to find a way to pursue them, or, at least, to alarm watchful confederates on the city side of the river. it was a tense, anxious quarter of an hour for the liberated pair. so near to absolute safety, and yet so utterly in the dark as to what the next moment, might develop--weal or woe. at least the sound of rapidly working rowlocks came to the girl's ears. they were slipping along in the dense blackness beneath the walls, making as little noise as possible and constantly on the lookout for the long, low dock. "they're after us," grated truxton, in desperation. "they've got word to friends one way or another. by jove! i'm nearly fagged, too. i can't pull much farther. hello! what's this?" the side of the boat caromed off' a solid object in the water, almost spilling them into the wind-blown river. "the docks!" she whispered. "we struck a small scow, i think. can you find your way in among the coal barges?" he paddled along slowly, feeling his way, scraping alongside the big barges which delivered coal from the distant mines to the docks along the river front. at last he found an opening and pushed through. a moment later they were riding under the stern of a broad, cargoless barge, plumb up against the water-lapped piles of the dock. standing in the bow of the boat he managed to pull himself up over the slippery edge. it was the work of a second to draw her up after him. with an oar which he had thought to remove beforehand, he gave the boat a mighty shove, sending it out into the stream once more. then, hand in hand, they edged slowly, carefully along the gravel-strewn dock, between vast piles of lumber and steep walls of coal. it was only necessary to find the railway company's runways leading into the yards above; in time of peace there was little likelihood that the entrances to the dock would be closed, even at night. loud curses came up from the river, proclaiming the fact that the pursuers had found the empty boat. afterwards they were to learn that "newport's" shouts had brought a boatload of men from the opposite bank, headed by the innkeeper, in whose place loraine was to have encountered marlanx later on, if plans had not miscarried. she was to have remained in this outside inn until after the sacking of the city on the following day. the girl translated one remark that came up to them from the boatload of pursuers: "the old man is waiting back there. he'll kill the lot of us if we don't bring the girl." by this time king had located the open space which undoubtedly afforded room for the transfer of cargoes from the dock to the company's yards inside the walls. without hesitation he drew her after him up this wide, sinister roadway. they stumbled on over the rails of the "dummy track," collided with collier trucks, slipped on the soggy chutes, but all the while forged ahead toward the gates that so surely lay above them. the pursuers were trying for a landing, noisily, even boisterously. it struck truxton as queer that these men were not afraid of alarming the watchmen on the docks or the man at the gate above. suddenly it came to him that there would be no one there to oppose the landing of the miscreants. no doubt hundreds of men already had stolen through these gates during the night, secreting themselves in the fastnesses of the city, ready for the morrow's fray. it is no small wonder that he shuddered at the thought of it. there was no one on the wharf--at least, no one in sight. they rushed up the narrow railway chutes and through one of the numerous gateways that opened out upon the barge docks. no one opposed them; no one was standing guard. from behind came the sound of rushing footsteps. lightning flashed in the sky and the rumble of thunder broke over the desolate night. "they'll see us by the lightning," gasped truxton, almost ready to drop from faintness and exhaustion. he was astounded, even alarmed, to find that his strength had been so gravely depleted by confinement and lack of nourishment. they were inside the city walls. ahead of them, in that labyrinth of filthy streets lay the way to the distant square. his arm was now about her waist, for she was half-fainting; he could hear her gasping and moaning softly, inarticulate cries of despair. switch-lights blinked in the distance. off to the right of them windows showed lights; the clang of a locomotive bell came to them as from a great distance. their progress was abruptly halted by the appearance of a man ahead, standing like a statue in the middle of the network of tracks. they stumbled toward him, not knowing whether he was friend or foe. one look into their faces, aided by the flare of a yardman's lantern, and the fellow turned tail and fled, shouting as he did so. following a vivid flash of lightning, two shots were fired by the men who were now plunging up through the gates, a hundred yards or more away. the same flash of lightning showed to king the narrow, muddy street that stretched ahead of them, lined with low, ugly houses of a nondescript character. instead of doing the obvious thing, he turned sharply to the left, between the lines of freight cars. their progress was slow; both were ready to drop; the way was dark and unknown to them. at last they came to the end of their rope: they were literally up against the great city wall! they had reached the limits of the railway yards and were blocked on all sides by they knew not how many rows of cars. somewhere off to the right there were streets and houses and people, but they did not have the strength to try to reach them. a car door stood open in front of them. he waited for a second flash of lightning to reveal to him the nature of its interior. it was quite empty. without hesitation he clambered in and pulled her up after him. they fell over, completely fagged. a few minutes later the storm broke. he managed to close the door against the driving torrents. she was sobbing plaintively, poor, wet, bedraggled sweetheart--he called her that, although she did not hear him. "we've fooled them," he managed to whisper, close to her ear. "they won't look here. you're safe, loraine. 'gad, i'd like to see any one get you away from me now." she pressed his arm, that was all. he found himself wondering what answer she would give to vos engo when he took her to him to-morrow. to-morrow! this was the th! would there be a to-morrow for any of them--for vos engo, for tullis, for the prince? for _her_? "there will be time to warn them in the morning," he thought, dulled by fatigue. "we can't go on now." "truxton," he heard her saying, tremulously, "do you think we can do anything for them--the prince and those who are with him? how can we lie here when there is so much to be done?" "when the storm abates--when we are rested--we will try to get away from here. those devils know that i will give the alarm. they will have hundreds of men watching to head us off. it means everything to them. you see, i know their plans. but, loraine, dear little girl, brave as you are and willing as i am, we can't go on until we've pulled ourselves together. we're safe here for awhile. later on, we'll try to steal up to the city. they will be watching every approach to the castle and to the tower, hoping to stop me in time. we must out-fox them again. it will be harder, too, little girl. but, if i don't do any more, i pledge you that i'll save you from marlanx." "oh, i know you will. you must, truxton." "i'd--i'd like to be sure that i am also saving you from vos engo. i hate to think of you throwing yourself away on one of these blithering, fortune-hunting noblemen." she pressed his arm again. "by jove, it's great fun being a hero, after all--and it isn't so difficult, if the girl helps you as you helped me. it's too bad i couldn't do it all by myself. i have always counted on rescuing you from an ogre's castle or something of that sort. it's rather commonplace as it is, don't you think?" "i don't--know what--you're talking about," she murmured. then she was fast asleep. the storm raged; savage bursts of wind rocked the little freight car; the rain hissed viciously against their frail hotel; thunder roared and lightning rent sky and earth. the weary night-farers slept with pandemonium dinning in their ears. he sat with his back against the side of the car, a, pistol in one hand, the other lying tenderly upon the drenched hair of the girl whose head rested upon his leg. she had slipped down from his shoulder; he did not have the desire or the energy to prevent it. at his side lay the discarded whiskers. manfully as he had fought against the impelling desire to sleep, he could not beat it off. his last waking thought was of the effort he must make to reach dangloss with the warning. then the storm abated; the soft drip of rain from the eaves of the car beat a monotonous tattoo in the pools below; the raw winds from the mountains blew stealthily in the wake of the tornado, picking up the waste that had been left behind only to cast it aside with a moan of derision. something stirred in the far end of the car. a still, small noise as of something alive that moved with the utmost wariness. a heavy, breathing body crept stealthily across the intervening space; so quietly that a mouse could have made but little less noise. then it stopped; there was not a sound inside the car except the deep, regular breathing of truxton king. the girl's respiration was so faint that one might have thought she did not breathe at all. again the sly, cautious movement of a heavy body; the creaking of a joint or two, the sound of a creature rising from a crouching position to the upright; then the gentle rubbing of cloth, the fumbling of fingers in a stubborn pocket. an instant later the bluish flame of a sulphur match struggled for life, growing stronger and brighter in the hand of a man who stood above the sleepers. chapter xv the girl in the red cloak inside of an hour after the return of the frightened, quivering groom who had escaped from the brigands in the hills, jack tullis was granted permission by the war department to take a hundred picked men with him in the effort to overtake and capture the abductors of his sister. the dazed groom's story hardly had been told to the horrified brother before he was engaged in telephoning to general braze and baron dangloss. a hurried consultation followed. other affairs that had been troubling the authorities for days were forgotten in the face of this distressing catastrophe; there was no time to be lost if the desperadoes were to be headed before they succeeded in reaching the dawsbergen passes with their lovely captive. once there, it would be like hunting a needle in a haystack; they could elude pursuit for days among the wild crags of upper dawsbergen, where none but outlaws lived, and fierce beasts thrived. unluckily for the dearest hopes of the rescuing party, the miserable groom did not reach the city until almost noon of the day following the abduction. he had lost his way and had wandered all night in the forests. when miss tullis failed to return at nightfall, her brother, having in mind the mysterious disappearance of truxton king and the flight of countess ingomede, was preparing to set forth in search of her. a telephone message from ganlook, fifteen miles north of the city, came at seven o'clock, just as he was leaving the castle. the speaker purported to be the countess prandeville, a very estimable chatelaine who ruled socially over the grim old village of ganlook. she informed tullis that his sister was with her for the night, having arrived in the afternoon with a "frightful headache." she would look after the dear child, of whom she was very fond, and would send her down in the morning, when she would surely be herself again. greatly relieved, tullis gave up his plan to ride off in quest of her; he knew the amiable countess, and felt that his sister was in good hands. it was not until the return of the groom that he recalled the fact that the voice on the telephone was not quite like that of the countess. he had been cleverly hoodwinked. baron dangloss, obtaining connection with the prandeville household in ganlook, at once discovered that loraine had not been in the chateau in many days. the fierce, cock-robin baron was sadly upset. three prominent persons had been stolen from beneath his nose, so to speak. he was beside himself with rage and dismay. this last outrage was the climax. the old man adored the sister of jack tullis; he was heartbroken and crushed by the news of the catastrophe. for a while he worked as if in a daze; only the fierce spurring of jack tullis and vos engo, who believed himself to be an accepted suitor, awoke him from an unusual state of lethargy. it is even said that the baron shed tears without blowing his nose to discredit the emotion. the city was soon to know of the fresh outrage at the hands of the bandits in the hills. great excitement prevailed; there were many sincere lamentations, for the beautiful american girl was a great favourite--especially with those excellent persons who conducted bazaars in the main avenues. loraine, being an american, did not hesitate to visit the shops in person: something that the native ladies never thought of doing. hundreds of honest citizens volunteered to join in a search of the hills, but the distinction was denied them. the war department issued official notice to all merchants that their places of business must be decorated properly against the holiday that would occur on the morrow. shops were to be closed for two hours at midday, during the ceremonies attending the unveiling of the yetive monument in the plaza. the merchants might well give their time to decorating their shops; the soldiers could do all the searching and all the fighting that was necessary. strict orders, backed by method, were issued to the effect that no one was to pass through the gates during the day, except by special permission from general braze. count vos engo was eager to accompany the expedition to dawsbergen in search of his wayward lady-love. tullis, who liked the gay young nobleman despite the reputation he had managed to live down, was willing that he should be the one to lead the troops, but colonel quinnox flatly refused to consider it. "to-morrow's celebration in the city will demand the attendance of every noble officer in the guard," he said. "i cannot allow you to go, count vos engo. your place is here, beside the prince. line officers may take charge of this expedition to the hills; they will be amply able to manage the chase. i am sorry that it happens so. the royal guard, to a man, must ride with the prince to-morrow." captain haas, of the dragoons, was put in charge of the relief party, much to the disgust of vos engo; and at two o'clock in the afternoon they were ready to ride away. the party was armed and equipped for a bitter chase. word had been sent to serros, the capital of dawsbergen, asking the assistance of prince dantan in the effort to overtake the abductors. a detachment, it was announced in reply, was to start from serros during the afternoon, bound for the eastern passes. baron dangloss rode to the southern gate with the white-faced, suffering tullis. "we will undoubtedly receive a communication from the rascals this afternoon or to-morrow," he said gloomily. "they will not be slow to make a formal demand for ransom, knowing that you and your sister are possessed of unlimited wealth. when this communication arrives it may give us a clue to their whereabouts; certainly as to their methods. if it should be necessary, tullis, to apprise you of the nature of this demand, i, myself, will ride post haste to st. michael's pass, which you are bound to reach to-morrow after your circuit of the upper gaps. it is possible, you see, that an open attack on these fellows may result in her--er--well, to be frank--her murder. damn them, they'd do it, you know. my place to-morrow is here in the city. there may be disturbances. nothing serious, of course, but i am uneasy. there are many strangers in the city and more are coming for the holiday. the presence of the prince at the unveiling of the statue of his mother--god bless her soul!--is a tremendous magnet. i would that you could be here to-morrow, john tullis; at prince robin's side, so to speak." "poor little chap! he was terribly cut up when i told him i was going. he wanted to come. had his little sword out, and all that. said the celebration could be postponed or go hang, either one. look after him closely to-morrow, dangloss. i'd shoot myself if anything were to happen to him. marlanx is in the air; i feel him, i give you my word, i do! i've been depressed for days. as sure as there's a sun up yonder, that old scoundrel is planning something desperate. don't forget that we've already learned a few things regarding his designs." he waited a moment before uttering his gravest fear. "don't give him a chance to strike at the prince." "he wouldn't dare to do that!" "he'd dare anything, from what i've heard of him." "you hate him because--" "go on! yes, i hate him because he has made _her_ unhappy. hello, who's this?" a man who had ridden up to the gates, his horse covered with foam, was demanding admission. the warders halted him unceremoniously as dangloss rode forward. they found that he was one of the foremen in the employ of the railway construction company. he brought the disquieting news that another strike had been declared, that the men were ugly and determined to tear up the track already laid unless their demands were considered, and, furthermore, that there had been severe fighting between the two factions engaged on the work. he urgently implored dangloss to send troops out to hold the rioters in check. many of the men were demanding their pay so that they might give up their jobs and return to their own lands. "what is your name?" demanded the harassed minister of police. "polson," replied the foreman. he lied, for he was no other than john cromer, the unsavoury husband of anna cromer, of the committee of ten. "come with me," said dangloss. "we will go to general braze. good-bye and good luck, tullis." the little baron rode back into the city, accompanied by the shifty-eyed cromer, while john tullis sped off to the south, riding swiftly by the side of the stern-faced captain haas, an eager company of dragoons behind, a mountain guide in front. at that very moment, loraine tullis was comparing notes with truxton king in the room beneath the armourer's shop; count marlanx was hiding in the trader's inn outside the northern gates; the abductors themselves were scattered about the city, laughing triumphantly over the success of the ruse that had drawn the well-feared american away on a wild-goose chase to the distant passes of dawsbergen. more than that: at five o'clock in the afternoon a second detachment of soldiers left the city for the scene of the riots in the construction camps, twenty miles away. surely the well-laid plans of the iron count were being skilfully carried out! all afternoon and evening men straggled in from the hills and surrounding country, apparently loth to miss the early excitement attending the ceremonies on the following day. sullen strikers from the camps came down, cursing the company but drinking noisy toasts to the railroad and its future. the city by night swarmed with revelling thousands; the bands were playing, the crowds were singing, and mobs were drinking and carousing in the lower end. the cold, drizzling rain that began to blow across the city at ten o'clock did little toward checking the hilarity of the revellers. honest citizens went to bed early, leaving the streets to the strangers from the hills and the river-lands. not one dreamed of the ugly tragedy that was drawing to a climax as he slept the sleep of the just, the secure, the conscience-free. at three o'clock in the morning word flew from brothel to brothel, from lodging house to lodging house, in all parts of the slumbering city; a thousand men crept out into the streets after the storm, all animated by one impulse, all obeying a single fierce injunction. they were to find and kill a tall american! they were to keep him or his companion from getting in touch with the police authorities, or with the royal castle, no matter what the cost! the streets were soon alive with these alert, skulking minions. every approach to the points of danger was guarded by desperate, heavily armed scoundrels who would not have hesitated an instant if it came to their hands to kill truxton king, the man with all their dearest secrets in his grasp. in dark doorways lounged these apparently couchless strangers; in areaways and alleys, on doorsteps they found shelter; in the main streets and the side streets they roamed. all the time they had an eager, evil eye out for a tall american and a slender girl! dangloss's lynx-eyed constabulary kept close watch over these restless, homeless strangers, constantly ordering them to disperse, or to "move on," or to "find a bed, not a doorstep." the commands were always obeyed; churlishly, perhaps, in many instances, but never with physical resistance. at five o'clock, a stealthy whisper went the rounds, reaching the ear of every vagabond and cutthroat engaged in the untiring vigil. like smoke they faded away. the silent watch was over. the word had sped to every corner of the town that it was no longer necessary to maintain the watch for truxton king. he was no longer in a position to give them trouble or uneasiness! the twenty-sixth dawned bright and cool after the savage storm from the north. brisk breezes floated down from the mountain peaks; an unreluctant sun smiled his cheeriest from his seat behind the hills, warmly awaiting the hour when he could peep above them for a look into the gala nest of humanity on the western slope. everywhere there was activity, life, gladness and good humour. gaudy decorations which had been torn away by the storm were cheerfully replaced; workmen refurbished the public stands and the royal box in the plaza; bands paraded the avenues or gave concerts in regengetz circus; troops of mounted soldiers and constabulary patroled the streets. there was nothing to indicate to the municipality that the vilest conspiracy of the age--of any age--was gripping its tentacles about the city of edelweiss, the smiling, happy city of mountain and valley. no one could have suspected guile in the laughter and badinage that masked the manner of the men who were there to spread disaster in the bunting-clad thoroughfares. "i don't like the looks of things," said baron dangloss, time and again. his men were never so alert as to-day and never so deceived. "there can't be trouble of any sort," mused colonel quinnox. "these fellows are ugly, 'tis true, but they are not prepared for a demonstration. they are unarmed. what could they do against the troops, even though they are considerably depleted?" "colonel, we'll yet see the day when graustark regrets the economy that has cut our little army to almost nothing. what have we now, all told? three hundred men in the royal guard. less than six hundred in the fortress. i have a hundred policemen. there you are. to-day there are nearly two hundred soldiers off in the mountains on nasty business of one sort or another. 'gad, if these ruffians from the railroad possessed no more than pistols they could give us a merry fight. there must be a thousand of them. i don't like it. we'll have trouble before the day's over." "general braze says his regulars can put down any sort of an uprising in the city," protested quinnox. "in case of war, you know we have the twenty thousand reserves, half of whom were regulars until two years ago." "perfectly true. quinnox, it's your duty to take care of the prince. you've done so in your family for fifteen generations. see to it that prince robin is well looked after to-day, that's all." "trust me for that, baron," said quinnox with his truest smile. even marlanx knew that he would have to kill a quinnox before a graustark ruler could be reached. by eleven o'clock the streets in the neighbourhood of the plaza were packed with people. all along castle avenue, up which the prince was to drive in the coach of state, hung the proud, adoring burghers and their families: like geese to flock, like sheep to scatter. at twelve the castle gates were to be thrown open for the brilliant cavalcade that was to pass between these cheering rows of people. in less than a quarter of an hour afterward, the prince and his court, the noble ladies and gentlemen of graustark, with the distinguished visitors from other lands, would pass into the great square through regengetz circus. at the corner below the crowded castle café, in the north side of the square, which was now patroled by brilliant dragoons, two men met and exchanged the compliments of the day. one of them had just come up on horseback. he dismounted, leaving the animal in charge of an urchin who saw a gavvo in sight. this man was young and rather dashing in appearance. the other was older and plainly a citizen of some consequence. "well?" said the latter impatiently, after they had passed the time of day for the benefit of the nearest on-lookers. the younger man, slapping his riding boot with his crop, led the way to the steps of a house across the sidewalk. both had shot a swift, wary glance at one of the upper windows. "everything is ready. there will be no hitch," said the horseman in low tones. "you have seen spantz?" "sh! no names. yes. the girl is ready." "and the fortress?" "fifty men are in the houses opposite and others will go there--later on." "we must keep the reserves out of the fortress. it would mean destruction if they got to the gun-rooms and the ammunition houses." "is he here?" with a motion toward the upper window. "yes. he came disguised as an old market woman, just after daybreak." "well, here's his horse," said the other, "but he'll have to change his dress. it isn't a side saddle." the young villain laughed silently. "go up now to the square, peter. your place is there." if one had taken the time to observe, he might have seen that the young man wore his hat well forward, and that his face was unnaturally white. we, who suspect him of being peter brutus, have reason to believe that there was an ugly cut on the top of his head and that it gave him exceeding pain. shortly after half past eleven o'clock certain groups of men usurped the positions in front of certain buildings on the south side of the square. a score here, a half score there, others below them. they favoured the shops operated by the friends of the committee of ten; they were the men who were to take possession of the rifles that lay hidden behind counters and walls. here, there, everywhere, all about the city, other instructed men were waiting for the signal that was to tell them to hustle deadly firearms from the beds of green-laden market wagons. it was all arranged with deadly precision. there could be no blunder. the iron count and his deputies had seen to that. men were stationed in the proper places to cut all telephone and telegraph wires leading out of the city. others were designated to hold the gates against fugitives who might seek to reach the troops in the hills. marlanx's instructions were plain, unmistakable. only soldiers and policemen were to be shot; members of the royal household were already doomed, including the ministry and the nobles who rode with the royal carriage. the committee of ten had said that there would not be another ministry, never another graustark nobility; only the party of equals. the iron count had smiled to himself and let them believe all that they preached in secret conclave. but he knew that there would be another ministry, a new nobility and a new ruler, and that there would be _no committee of ten!_ two thousand crafty mercenaries, skilled rioters and fighters from all parts of the world stood ready in the glad streets of edelweiss to leap as one man to the standard of the iron count the instant he appeared in the square after the throwing of the bomb. a well-organised, carefully instructed army of no mean dimensions, in the uniform of the lout and vagabond, would rise like a flash of light before the dazzled, panic-stricken populace, and marlanx would be master. without the call of drum or bugle his sinister soldiers of fortune would leap into positions assigned them; in orderly, determined company front, led by chosen officers, they would sweep the square, the circus and the avenues, up-town to the castle, down-town to the fortress and the railway station, everywhere establishing the pennant of the man who had been banished. the present dynasty was to end at one o'clock! so said marlanx! how could dangloss or braze or quinnox say him nay? they would be dead or in irons before the first shock of disaster had ceased to thrill. the others? pah! they were as chaff to the iron count. the calm that precedes the storm fell upon the waiting throng; an ominous silence spread from one end of the avenue to the other. for a second only it lasted. the hush of death could not have been quieter nor more impressive. even as people looked at each other in wonder, the tumult came to its own again. afterward a whole populace was to recall this strange, depressing second of utter stillness; to the end of time that sudden pall was spoken of with bated breath and in awe. then, from the distant castle came the sound of shouts, crawling up the long line of spectators for the full length of the avenue to the eager throng in regengetz circus, swelling and growing louder as the news came that the prince had ridden forth from the gates. necks were craned, rapt eyes peered down the tree-topped boulevard, glad voices cried out tidings to those in the background. the prince was coming! bonny, adorable prince robin! down the broad avenue came the royal military band, heading the brilliant procession. banners were flying; gold and silver standards gleamed in the van of the noble cavalcade; brilliantly uniformed cuirassiers and dragoons on gaily caparisoned horses formed a gilded phalanx that filled the distant end of the street, slowly creeping down upon the waiting thousands, drawing nearer and nearer to the spot of doom. a stately, noble, inspiring procession it was that swept toward the plaza. the love of the people for their little prince welled up and overflowed in great waves of acclamation. pomp and display, gold and fine raiment were but the creation of man; prince robin was, to them, the choicest creation of god. he was their prince! on came the splendid phalanx of guardsmen, followed by rigid infantrymen in measured tread; the clattering of horses' hoofs, the beat of drums, the clanking of scabbards and the jangling of royal banners, rising even above the hum of eager voices. the great coach of gold, with its half score of horses, rolled sombrely beneath nature's canopy of green, surrounded on all sides by proud members of the royal guard. word came down the line that the prince sat alone in the rear seat of the great coach, facing the prime minister and countess halfont. two carriages from the royal stables preceded the prince's coach. in the first was the duke of perse and three fellow-members of the cabinet; the second contained baron dangloss and general braze. after the prince came a score or more of rich equipages filled with the beauty, the nobility, the splendour of this rich little court. the curtains in a house at the corner of the square parted gently. a hawk-faced old man peered out upon the joyous crowd. his black eyes swept the scene. a grim smile crept into his face. he dropped the curtains and walked away from the window, tossing a cigarette into a grate on the opposite side of the room. then he looked at his watch. all of the bands in the square had ceased playing when the castle gates were opened for the royal procession: only the distant, rythmic beat of a lively march came up from the avenue to the ears of this baleful old man in the second-story front room of the home of apothecary boltz. at the extreme outer side of regengetz circus a small group of men and women stood, white-faced and immovable, steadfastly holding a position in the front rank of spectators. shrinking back among this determined coterie was the slender, shuddering figure of olga platanova, haggard-faced, but with the light of desperation in her eyes. as the procession drew nearer, the companions of this wretched girl slunk away from her side, losing themselves in the crowd, leaving her to do her work while they sought distant spots of safety. olga platanova, her arms folded beneath the long red cloak she wore, remained where they had placed her and--waited! chapter xvi the merry vagabond the man who stood in the middle of the freight-car, looking down in wonder at the fugitives, was a tall vagabond of the most picturesque type. no ragamuffin was ever so tattered and torn as this rakish individual. his clothes barely hung together on his lank frame; he was barefoot and hatless; a great mop of black hair topped his shrewd, rugged face; coal-black eyes snapped and twinkled beneath shaggy brows and a delighted, knowing grin spread slowly over his rather boyish countenance. he was not a creature to strike terror to the heart of any one; on the contrary, his mischievous, sprightly face produced an impression of genuine good humour and absolute indifference to the harsh things of life. long, thin lips curled into a smile of delicious regard; his sides shook with the quiet chuckle of understanding. he did not lose his smile, even when the match burned his finger tips and fell to the floor of the car. instead, the grin was broader when he struck the second match and resumed his amused scrutiny of his fellow-lodgers. this time he practised thrift: he lighted a cigarette with the match before tossing it aside. then he softly slid the car door back in its groove and looked out into the moist, impenetrable night. a deep sigh left his smiling lips; a retrospective langour took possession of his long frame; he sighed again, and still he smiled. leaning against the side of the door this genial gypsy smoked in blissful silence until the stub grew so short that it burned his already singed fingers. he was thinking of other days and nights, and of many maids in far-off lands, and of countless journeys in which he, too, had had fair and gentle company--short journeys, yes, but not to be forgotten. ah, to be knight of the road and everlasting squire to the goddess of love! he always had been that--ever since he could remember; he had loved a hundred briefly; none over long. it was the only way. once more he turned to look upon the sleeping pair. this time he lighted the stub of a tallow candle. the tender, winning smile in his dark eyes grew to positive radiance. ah, how he envied this great, sleeping wayfarer! how beautiful his mistress! how fortunate the lover! and how they slept--how tired they were! whence had they come? from what distant land had they travelled together to reach this holiday-garnished city in the hills? vagabonds, tramps! they were of his world, a part of his family; he knew and had loved a hundred of her sisters, he was one of a hundred-thousand brothers to this man. why should he stay here to spoil their waking hour? the thought came to him suddenly. no; he would surrender his apartment to them. he was free and foot-loose; he could go elsewhere. he _would_ go elsewhere. softly he tip-toed to his own corner of the car, looking over his shoulder with anxious eyes to see that his movements did not disturb them. he gathered up his belongings: an ancient violin case, a stout walking stick, a goodly sized pack done up in gaudy cloth, a well-worn pair of sandals with long, frayed lacings. as gently he stole back to the door. here he sat down, with his feet hanging outside the car. then, with many a sly, wary glance at his good comrades, he put on his sandals and laced them up the leg. he tossed a kiss to the sleeping girl, his dark gypsy face aglow with admiration and mischief, and was about to blow out the light of his candle. then he changed his mind. he arose and stood over them again, looking long and solemnly at the face of the sleeping girl. ah, yes, she was the most beautiful he had ever seen--the very fairest. he had known her sisters, but-no, they were not like this one. with a sly grimace of envy he shook his fist at the tall man whose leg served as a pillow for the tired head. the girl looked wan and tired--and hungry. poor thing! never had he seen one so sweet and lovely as she; never had he seen such a shockingly muddy mackintosh, however, as the one she wore, never were hands so dirty as the slender ones which lay limp before her. with a determined shake of his head and a new flash of the eye he calmly seated himself and began to open his ragged pack. once he paused, a startled look in his face. he caught sight of the revolver at truxton's side for the first time. the instant of alarm passed and a braver smile than ever came. ah, here was a knight who would fight for his lady love! good fellow! bravo! at last his small store of food lay exposed. without hesitation he divided the pieces of smoked venison, giving one part to himself, two to the sleepers; then the miller's bread and the cheese, and the bag of dates he had bought the day before. he tied up his own slender portion and would have whistled for the joy of it all had he not bethought himself in time. from one of his pockets he drew out tobacco and cigarette papers. with his back planted up against the wall of the car, his legs crossed and his feet wiggling time to the inward tune he sang, he calmly rolled half a dozen cigarettes and placed them, one by one, beside the feast. one match from his thin supply he placed alongside the cigarettes. then he looked very doubtful. no; one might blow out. he must not be niggardly. so he kept two for himself and gave three to the guest at his banquet. again he blew a kiss to the prettiest girl he had ever seen. snuffing his candle, he dropped to the ground and closed the door against all spying, uncivil eyes. the first grey of dawn was growing in the sombre east. he looked out over the tops of cars and sniffed the air. the rain was over. he knew. a tinge of red that none but the gypsy could have distinguished betrayed the approach of a sunny day. jauntily he swung off down the path between the lines of cars, his fickle mind wavering between the joys of the coming day and the memory of the loveliest romany he had ever encountered. daybreak found him at the wharf gates. it was gloomy here and silent; the city above looked asleep and unfruitful. his heart was gay; he longed for company. whimsical, careless hearted, he always obeyed the impulse that struck him first. as he stood there, surveying the wet, deserted wharf, it came to him suddenly that if he went back and played one soft love-song before the door of the car, they might invite him to join them in the breakfast that the genie had brought. his long legs were swift. in five minutes he was half way down the line of cars, at the extreme end of which stood the happy lodging place of his heart's desire. then he paused, a dubious frown between his eyes. no! he said, slapping his own cheek soundly; it would not be fair! he would not disturb them, not he! how could he have thought of such a thing. _le bon dieu!_ never! he would breakfast alone! coming to an empty flat car, direct from the quarries, he resolutely seated himself upon its edge, and, with amiable resignation, set about devouring his early meal, all the while casting longing, almost appealing glances toward the next car but one. busy little switch engines began chugging about the yards; the railroad, at least, was exhibiting some signs of life. here and there the crews were "snaking" out sections and bumping them off to other parts of the gridiron; a car here, a car there--all aflounder, but quite simple to this merry wanderer. he knew all about switching, he did. it did not cause him the least uneasiness when a sudden jar told him that an engine had been attached to the distant end of the string in which he breakfasted. nor was he disturbed when the cars began to move. what cared he? he would ride in his dining-car to the objective switch, wherever that was, and no doubt would find himself nearer the main freight depot, with little or no walking to do on his journey to the square. but the "string" was not bound for another track in the yards; it was on its way to the main line, thence off through the winding valley into strange and distant lands. sir vagabond, blissfully swinging his heels and munching his venison, smiled amiably upon the yard men as he passed them by. so genial was the smile, so frank the salutation, that not one scowled back at him or hurled the chunk of coal that bespeaks a surly temper. down through the maze of sidetracks whisked the little train, out upon the main line with a thin shriek of greeting, past the freight houses--it was then that sir vagabond sat up very straight, a look of mild interest in his eyes. interest gave way to perplexity, perplexity to concern. what's this? leaving the city? he wasted no time. this would never do! clutching his belongings to his side, he vaulted from one hand, nimbly and with the gracefulness of wide experience, landing safely on his feet at the roadside. there he stood with the wry, dazed look of a man who suddenly finds himself guilty of arrant stupidity, watching the cars whiz past on their way to the open country. just ahead was the breach in the wall through which all trains entered or left the city. into that breach shot the train, going faster and faster as it saw the straight, clear track beyond. he waited until the tail end whisked itself out of sight in the cut below the city walls, and then trudged slowly, dejectedly in the opposite direction, his heart in his boots. he was thinking of the luckless pair in the empty "box." suddenly he stopped, his chin up, his hands to his sides. a hearty peal of laughter soared from his lips. he was regarding the funny side of the situation. the joke was on them! it was rich! the more he thought of their astonishment on awaking, the more he laughed. he leaned against a car. his immense levity attracted attention. four or five men approached him from the shadows of the freight houses, ugly, unsmiling fellows. they demanded of him the cause of his unseemly mirth. with tears in his merry black eyes he related the plight of the pretty slumberers, dwelling more or less sentimentally on the tender beauty of the maiden fair. they plied him with questions. he described the couple--even glowingly. then the sinister fellows smiled; more than that, they clapped each other on the back and swore splendidly. he was amazed and his own good humour gave way to fierce resentment. what right had these ruffians to laugh at the misfortunes of that unhappy maid? a switchman came up, and one of the men, a lank american whom we should recognise by the sound of his voice (having heard it before), asked whither the train was bound and when it would first stop in its flight. "at the poo quarries, seventeen kilometers down the line. they cut out a few empties there. she goes on to the division point after that." "any trains up from that direction this morning?" demanded "newport." "not till this afternoon. most of the crews are in the city for the--" but the switchman had no listeners beyond that statement. and so it was that the news spread over town at five o'clock that truxton king was where he could do no harm. it was well known that the train would make forty miles an hour down the steep grade into the lower valley. up into the city strolled sir vagabond, his fiddle in his hand, his heart again as light as a feather. some day--ah, some day! he would see her again on the road. it was always the way. then he would tell her how unhappy he had been--for a minute. she was so pretty, so very pretty! he sighed profoundly. we see no more of him. when truxton king first awoke to the fact that they were no longer lying motionless in the dreary yards, he leaped to his feet with a startled shout of alarm. loraine sat up, blinking her eyes in half-conscious wonder. it was broad daylight, of course; the train was rattling through the long cut just below the city walls. with frantic energy he pulled open the door. for a minute he stared at the scudding walls of stone so close at hand, uncomprehendingly. then the truth burst upon him with the force of a mighty blow. he staggered back, his jaw dropping, his eyes glaring. "what the dev--great god, loraine! we're going! we're moving!" he cried hoarsely. "i know it," she gasped, her body rocking violently with the swaying of the wild, top-heavy little car. "great scott! how we're pounding it! fifty miles an hour. where are we?" he cried, aghast. he could scarcely keep his feet, so terrific was the speed and so sickening the motion. she got to her feet and lurched to his side. "don't fall out!" she almost shrieked. he drew back with her. together they swayed like reeds in a windstorm, staring dizzily at the wall before them. suddenly the train shot out into the open, farm-spattered valley. truxton fell back dumbfounded. "the country!" he exclaimed. "we've been carried away. i--i can't believe my senses. could we have slept--what a fool, what an idiot! god in heaven! the prince! he is lost!" he was beside himself with anguish and despair, raging like a madman, cursing himself for a fool, a dog, a murderer! little less distressed than her companion, loraine tullis still had the good sense to keep him from leaping from the car. he had shouted to her that he must get back to the city; she could go on to the next town and find a hiding place. he would come to her as soon as he had given the alarm. "you would be killed," she cried, clutching his arm fiercely. "you never can jump, truxton. see how we are running. if you jump, i shall follow. i won't go on alone. i am as much to blame as you." the big, strong fellow broke down and cried, utterly disheartened. "don't cry, truxton, please don't cry!" she pleaded. "something will happen. we must stop sometime. then we can get another train back, or telegraph, or hire a wagon. it must be very early. the sun is scarcely up. do be brave! don't give up!" he squared his shoulders. "you put me to shame!" he cried abjectly. "i'm--i'm unnerved, that's all. it was too much of a blow. after we'd got away from those scoundrels so neatly, too. oh, it's maddening! i'll be all right in a minute. you plucky, plucky darling!" the train whirled through a small hamlet without even slackening its speed. truxton endeavoured to shout a warning to two men who stood by the gates; but they merely laughed, not comprehending. then he undertook to arrest the attention of the engineer. he leaned from the door and shouted. the effort was futile, almost disastrous. a lurch came near to hurling him to the rocky road bed. now and then they passed farmers on the high road far above, bound for the city. they called out to them, but the cries were in vain. with every minute they were running farther and farther away from the city of edelweiss; every mile was adding to the certainty of the doom which hung over the little prince and his people. a second small station flew by. "ronn: seven kilometers to edelweiss." he looked at her in despair. "we're going faster and faster," he grated. "this is the fastest train in the world, loraine, bar none." just then his gaze alighted on the pathetic breakfast and the wandering cigarettes. he stared as if hypnotised. was he going mad? an instant later he was on his hands and knees, examining the mysterious feast. she joined him at once; no two faces ever before were so puzzled and perplexed. "by heaven!" he exclaimed, drawing her away from the spot in quick alarm, comprehension flooding his brain. "i see it all! we've been deliberately shanghaied! we've been bottled up here, drugged, perhaps, and shipped out of town by fast freight--no destination. don't touch that stuff! it's probably full of poison. great scott! what a clever gang they are! and what a blithering idiot they have in me to deal with. oh, how easy!" whereupon he proceeded to kick the unoffending breakfast, cigarettes and all, out of the car door. to their dying day they were to believe that the food had been put there by agents of the great conspirator. it readily may be surmised that neither of them was given to sensible deductions during their astounding flight. if they had thought twice, they might have seen the folly of their quick conclusions. marlanx's men would not have sent loraine off in a manner like this. but the distracted pair were not in an analytical frame of mind just then; that is why the gentle munificence of sir vagabond came to a barren waste. mile after mile flew by. the unwilling travellers, depressed beyond description, had given up all hope of leaving the car until it reached the point intended by the wily plotters. to their amazement, however, the speed began to slacken perceptibly after they had left the city ten or twelve miles behind. truxton was leaning against the side of the door, gloomily surveying the bright, green landscape. for some time loraine had been steadying herself by clinging to his arm. they had cast off the unsightly rain coats and other clumsy articles. once, through sheer inability to control his impulses, he had placed his arm about her slim waist, but she had gently freed herself. her look of reproach was sufficient to check all future impulses of a like nature. "hello!" said he, coming out of his bitter dream. "we're slowing up." he looked out and ahead. "no station is in sight. there's a bridge down the road a bit--yes, there's our same old river. by george!" his face was a study. "what is it?" she cried, struck by his sudden energy of speech. "they're running slow for the bridge. afraid of the floods. d'ye see? if they creep up to it as they do in the united states when they're cautious, we'll politely drop off and--'pon my soul, she's coming down to a snail's pace. we can swing off, loraine. now's our chance!" the train was barely creeping up to the bridge. he clasped her in the strong crook of his left arm, slid down to a sitting position, and boldly pushed himself clear of the car, landing on his feet. staggering forward with the impetus he had received, he would have fallen except for a mighty effort. a sharp groan escaped his lips as he lowered her to the ground. she looked anxiously into his face and saw nothing there but relief. the cars rumbled across the bridge, picked up speed beyond, and thundered off in the distance with never so much as a thought of the two who stood beside the track and laughed hysterically. "come along," said the man briefly. "we must try to reach that station back there. there i can telegraph in. oh!" his first attempt to walk brought out a groan of pain. he had turned his ankle in the leap to the ground. she was deeply concerned, but he sought to laugh it off. gritting his teeth determinedly, he led the way back along the track. "lean on me," she cried despairingly. "nonsense," he said with grim stubbornness. "i don't mind the pain. we can't stop for a sprained ankle. it's an old one i got playing football. we may have to go a little slow, but we'll not stop, my dear--not till we get word to dangloss!" she found a long, heavy stick for him; thereafter he hobbled with greater speed and less pain. at a wagon-road crossing they paused to rest, having covered two miles. the strain was telling on him; perspiration stood out in great drops upon his brow; he was beginning to despair. her little cry of joy caused him to look up from the swollen ankle which he was regarding with dubious concern. an oxcart was approaching from the west. "a ride!" she cried joyously. she had been ready to drop with fatigue; her knees were shaking. his first exclamation of joy died away in a groan of dismay. he laughed bitterly. "that thing couldn't get us anywhere in a week," he said. "but it will help," she cried brightly, an optimist by force of necessity. they stopped the cart and bargained for a ride to ronn. the man was a farmer, slow and suspicious. he haggled. "the country's full of evil men and women these days," he demurred. "besides i have a heavy enough load as it is for my poor beasts." miss tullis conducted the negotiations, making the best of her year's acquaintance with the language of the country. "don't tell him why we are in such a hurry," cautioned king. "he may be a marlanx sympathiser." "you have nothing in your cart but melons," she said to the farmer, peeping under the corner of the canvas covering. "i am not going through ronn, but by the high road to edelweiss," he protested. "a good ten kilometers." "but carry us until we come up with some one who can give us horses." "horses!" he croaked. "every horse in the valley is in edelweiss by this time. this is the great day there. the statue of--" "yes, yes, i know. we are bound for edelweiss. can you get us there in two hours?" "with these beasts, poor things? never!" "it will be worth your while. a hundred gavvos if you carry us to a place where we can secure quicker transportation." in time she won him over. he agreed to carry them along the way, at his best speed, until they came up with better beasts or reached the city gates. it was the best he could do. the country was practically deserted on this day. at best there were but few horses in the valley; mostly oxen. they climbed up to the seat and the tortuous journey began. the farmer trotted beside the wheel nearly all of the way, descanting warmly in painful english on the present condition of things in the hills. "the rascals have made way with the beautiful miss tullis. she is the american lady stopping at the castle. you should see her, sir. excepting our dear princess yetive--god rest her soul--she is the most beautiful creature graustark has ever seen. i have seen her often. not quite so grand as the countess ingomede, but fairer, believe me. she is beloved by everyone. many a kind and generous word has she spoken to me. my onion beds are well known to her. she has come to my farm time and again, sir, with the noble personages, while riding, and she has in secret bought my little slips of onions. she has said to me that she adores them, but that she can only eat them in secret. ah, sir, it is a sad day for graustark that evil has happened to her. her brother, they say, is off in the dawsbergen hills searching for her. he is a grand man." his passengers were duly interested. she nudged the lugubrious truxton when the man spoke of the onions. "what a fibber! i hate onions." "she is to be married to the count vos engo; a fine lad, sir. now she is gone, i don't know what he will do. suicide, mayhap. many is the time i have cautioned her not to ride in the hills without a strong guard. these bandits are getting very bold." "do you know the great count marlanx?" demanded king, possessed of a sudden thought. the man faced him at the mention of the name, a suspicious gleam in his eyes. "count marlanx!" he snorted. without another word, he drew the beasts to a standstill. there was no mistaking the angry scowl. "are you friends of that snake? if you are, get out of my cart." "he's all right," cried truxton. "tell him who we are, loraine, and why we _must_ get to the city." five minutes later, the farmer, overcome by the stupendous news, was lashing his oxen with might and main; the astonished beasts tore down the road to ronn so bravely that there seemed some prospect of getting a telegram through in time. all the way the excited countryman groaned and swore and sputtered his prayers. at ronn they learned that the operator had been unable to call edelweiss since seven o'clock. the wires were down or had been cut. truxton left a message to be sent to dangloss in case he could get the wire, and off they started again for the city gates, having lost considerable time by the diverted mile or two. not man, woman or child did they encounter as the miles crept by. the country was barren of humanity. ahead of them was the ascent to be conquered by oxen so old and feeble that the prospect was more than dubious. "if it should be that my team gives out, i will run on myself to give the alarm," cried the worthy, perspiring charioteer. "it shall not be! god preserve us!" three times the oxen broke down, panting and stubborn; as many times he thwacked them and kicked them and cursed them into action again. they stumbled pitifully, but they _did_ manage to go forward. in time the city gates came in sight--far up the straight, narrow road. "pray god we may not be too late," groaned the farmer. "damn the swine who took their horses to town before the sun was up. curse them for fools and imbeciles. fools never get into heaven. thank the good lord for that." it seemed to the quivering americans that the gates were mocking them by drawing farther away instead of coming nearer. "are we going backward?" groaned truxton, his hands gripping the side of the bounding seat. near the gates, which were still open, it occurred to him in a single flash of dismay that he and loraine would be recognised and intercepted by marlanx watchers. between the fierce jolts of the great cart he managed to convey his fears to her. it was she who had the solution. they might succeed in passing the gates if they hid themselves in the bed of the cart, underneath the thick canvas covering. the farmer lifted the cloth and they crawled down among the melons. in this fashion they not only covered the remainder of the distance, half stifled by the heat and half murdered by the uncomfortable position, but passed through the gates and were taken clattering down the streets toward the centre of town. "to the tower!" cried the anxious truxton. "impossible!" shouted the farmer. "the streets are roped off and the crowds are too great." "then let us out as near to the tower as possible, cried the other. "here we are," cried the driver, a few minutes later, pulling up his half dead oxen and leaping to the ground. he threw off the covering and they lost no time in tumbling from their bed of melons to the cobble-stone pavement of a narrow alley into which he had turned for safety. "through this passage!" he gasped, hoarse with excitement. "the tower is below. follow me! my oxen will stand. i am going with you!" his rugged face was aglow. off through the alley they hurried, king disdaining the pain his ankle was giving him. they came to the crowded square a few minutes later. the clock in the cathedral pointed to twelve o'clock and after! the catastrophe had not yet taken place; the people were laughing and singing and shouting. they were in time. everywhere they heard glad voices crying out that the prince was coming! it was the royal band that they heard through dinning ears! "great god!" cried truxton, stopping suddenly and pointing with trembling hand to a spot across the street and a little below where they had pushed through the resentful, staring throng on the sidewalk. "there she is! at the corner! stop her!" he had caught sight of olga platanova. the first row of dragoons was already passing in front of her. less than two hundred feet away rolled the royal coach of gold! all this flashed before the eyes of the distracted pair, who were now dashing frantically into the open street, disregarding the shouts of the police and the howls of the crowd. "an anarchist!" shouted king hoarsely. he looked like one himself. "the bomb! the bomb! stop the prince!" colonel quinnox recognised this bearded, uncouth figure, and the flying, terrified girl at his heels. king was dragging her along by the hand. there was an instant of confusion on the part of the vanguard, a drawing of sabres, a movement toward the coach in which the prince rode. quinnox alone prevented the dragoons from cutting down the pallid madman who stumbled blindly toward the coaches beyond. he whirled his steed after an astonished glance in all directions, shouting eager commands all the while. when he reached the side of the gasping american, that person had stopped and was pointing toward the trembling olga, who had seen and recognised him. "stop the coach!" cried king. loraine was running frantically through the ranks of horsemen, screaming her words of alarm. the duke of perse leaped from his carriage and ran forward, shouting to the soldiers to seize the disturbers. panic seized the crowd. there was a mad rush for the corner above. olga platanova stood alone, her eyes wide and glassy, staring as if petrified at the face of truxton king. he saw the object in her wavering hand. with a yell he dashed for safety down the seething avenue. the duke of perse struck at him as he passed, ignoring the frantic cry of warning that he uttered. a plain, white-faced farmer in a smock of blue was crossing the street with mighty bounds, his eyes glued upon the arm of the frail, terrified anarchist. if he could only arrest that palsied, uncertain arm! but she hurled the bomb, her hands going to her eyes as she fell upon her knees. chapter xvii. the throwing of the bomb the scene that followed beggars all powers of description. a score of men and horses lay writhing in the street; others crept away screaming with pain; human flesh and that of animals lay in the path of the frenzied, panic-stricken holiday crowd; blood mingled with the soft mud of regengetz circus, slimy, slippery, ugly! rent bodies of men in once gaudy uniforms, now flattened and bruised in warm, oozy death, were piled in a mass where but a moment before the wondering vanguard of troopers had clustered. for many rods in all directions stunned creatures were struggling to their feet after the stupendous shock that had felled them. the clattering of frightened horses, the shouts and screams of men and women, the gruesome rush of ten thousand people in stampede--all in twenty seconds after the engine of death left the hand of olga platanova. olga platanova! there was nothing left of her! she had failed to do the deed expected of her, but she would not hear the execrations of those who had depended upon her to kill the prince. we draw a veil across the picture of olga platanova after the bomb left her hand; no one may look upon the quivering, shattered thing that once was a living, beautiful woman. the glimpse she had of truxton king's haggard face unnerved her. she faltered, her strength of will collapsed; she hurled the bomb in a panic of indecision. massacre but not conquest! down in an alley below the tower, a trembling, worn team of oxen stood for a day and night, awaiting the return of a master who was never to come back to them. god rest his simple soul! truxton king picked himself up from the street, dazed, bewildered but unhurt. everywhere about him mad people were rushing and screeching. scarcely knowing what he did, he fled with the crowd. from behind him came the banging of guns, followed by new shouts of terror. he knew what it meant! the revolutionists had begun the assault on the paralysed minions of the government. scores of royal guardsmen swept past him, rushing to the support of the coach of gold. the sharp, shrill scream of a single name rose above the tumult. some one had seen the iron count! "marlanx!" he looked back toward the gory entrance to the circus. there was marlanx, mounted and swinging a sabre on high. ahead was the mass of carriages, filled with the white-faced, palsied prey from the court of graustark. somewhere in that huddled, glittering crowd were two beings he willingly would give his own life to save. foot soldiers, policemen and mounted guardsmen began firing into the crowd at the square, without sense or discretion, falling back, nevertheless, before the well-timed, deliberate advance of the mercenaries. from somewhere near the spot where olga platanova fell came a harsh, penetrating command: "cut them off! cut them off from the castle!" it was his cue. he dashed into the street and ran toward the carriages, shouting with all his strength: "turn back! it is marlanx! to the castle!" then it was that he saw the prince. the boy was standing on a seat on the royal coach of state, holding out his eager little hands to some one in the thick of the crowd that surged about him. he was calling some one's name, but no one could have heard him. truxton's straining eyes caught sight of the figure in grey that struggled forward in response to the cries and the extended hands. he pushed his way savagely through the crowd; he came up with her as she reached the side of the coach, and with a shout of encouragement grasped her in his arms. "aunt loraine! aunt loraine!" he now heard the name the boy cried with all his little heart. two officers struck at the uncouth, desperate american as he lifted the girl from the ground and deliberately tossed her into the coach. "turn back!" he shouted. a horseman rode him down. he looked up as the plunging animal's hoofs clattered about his head. vos engo, with drawn sword, was crowding up to the carriage door, shouting words of rejoicing at sight of the girl he loved. somehow he managed to crawl from under the hoofs and wheels, not without thumps and bruises, and made his way to the sidewalk. the coach had swung around and the horses were being lashed into a gallop for the castle gates. he caught a glimpse of her, holding the prince in her arms, her white, agonised face turned toward the mob. distinctly he heard her cry: "save him! save truxton king!" from the sidewalks swarmed well-armed hordes of desperadoes, firing wildly into the ranks of devoted guardsmen grouped in the avenue to cover the flight of their royal charge. truxton fled from the danger zone as fast as his legs would carry him. bullets were striking all about him. later on he was to remember his swollen, bitterly painful ankle; but there was no thought of it now. he had played football with this same ankle in worse condition than it was now--and he had played for the fun of it, too. he realised that his life was worth absolutely nothing if he fell into the hands of the enemy. his only chance lay in falling in with some sane, loyal citizen who could be prevailed upon to hide him until the worst was over. there seemed no possibility of getting inside the castle grounds. he had done his duty and--he laughed bitterly as he thought of it--he had been ridden down by the men he came to save. some one was shouting his name behind in the scurrying crowd. he turned for a single glance backward. little mr. hobbs, pale as a ghost, his cap gone, his clothing torn, was panting at his elbow. "god save us!" gasped hobbs. "are you alive or am i seeing all the bloody ghosts in the world?" "i'm alive all right," cried king. "where can we go? be quick, hobbs! think! don't sputter like that. i want to be personally conducted, and damned quick at that." "before god, sir, i 'aven't the idea where to go," groaned hobbs. "it's dreadful! did you see what the woman did back there--" "don't stop to tell me about it, hobbs. keep on running. go ahead of me. i'm used to following the man from cook's." "right you are, sir. i say, by jove, i'm glad to see you--i am. you came right up out of the ground as if--" "is there no way to get off this beastly avenue?" panted king. "they're shooting back there like a pack of wild men. i hate to think of what's going on." "dangloss will 'ave them all in the jug inside of ten minutes, take my word--" "they'll have dangloss hanging from a telephone; pole, hobbs! don't talk! run!" soldiers came riding up from behind, turning to fire from their saddles into the throng of cutthroats, led by the grim old man with the bloody sabre. in the centre of the troop there was a flying carriage. the duke of perse was lying back in the seat, his face like that of a dead man. far ahead rattled the royal coach and the wildly flying carriages of state. "the prince is safe!" shouted king joyously. "they'll make it! thank god!" colonel quinnox turned in his saddle and searched out the owner of that stirring voice. "come!" he called, drawing rein as soon as he caught sight of him. even as king rushed out into the roadway a horseman galloped up from the direction of the castle. he pulled his horse to his haunches almost as he was riding over the dodging american. "here!" shouted the newcomer, scowling down upon the young man. "swing up here! quick, you fool!" it was vos engo, his face black with fury. quinnox had seized the hand of mr. hobbs on seeing help for king and was pulling him up before him. there was nothing for truxton to do but to accept the timely help of his rival. an instant later he was up behind him and they were off after the last of the dragoons. "if you don't mind, count, i'll try my luck," grated the american. holding on with one arm, he turned and fired repeatedly in the direction of the howling crowd of rascals. "ride to the barracks gates, vos engo!" commanded colonel quinnox. "be prepared to admit none but the royal reserves, who are under standing orders to report there in time of need." "god grant that they may be able to come," responded the count. over his shoulder he hissed to his companion. "it was not idle heroics, my friend, nor philanthropy on my part. i was commanded to come and fetch you. she would never have spoken to me again if i had refused." "she? ah, yes; i see. good! she did not forget me!" cried truxton, his heart bounding. "my own happiness depends on my luck in getting you to safety," rasped the count. "my life's happiness. understand, damn you, it is not for you that i risk my life." "i understand," murmured truxton, a wry smile on his pale lips. "you mean, she is going to pay you in some way for picking me up, eh? well, i'll put an end to that. i'll drop off again. then you can ride on and tell her--i wouldn't be a party to the game. do you catch my meaning?" "you would, eh?" said the count angrily. "i'd like to see you drop off while we're going at this--" "i've got my pistol in the middle of your back," grated truxton. "slow up a bit or i'll scatter your vertebræ all over your system. pull up!" "as you like," cried vos engo. "i've done my part. colonel quinnox will bear witness." he began pulling his horse down. "now, you are quite free to drop off." without a word the american swung his leg over and slid to the ground. "thanks for the lift you've given me," he called up to the astonished officer. "don't thank me," sang out his would-be saviour as he put spur to his horse. it is a lamentable thing to say, but truxton king's extraordinary sacrifice was not altogether the outgrowth of heroism. we have not been called upon at any time to question his courage; we have, on the other hand, seen times when he displayed the most arrant foolhardiness. i defy any one to prove, however, that he ever neglected an opportunity to better himself by strategy at the expense of fortitude. therefore, it is not surprising that even at such a time as this we may be called upon to record an example of his spectacular cunning. be sure of it, he did not decide to slide from vos engo's horse until he saw a way clear to better his position, and at the same time to lessen the glory of his unpleasant rescuer. less than a hundred yards behind loped a riderless horse; the dragoon who had sat the saddle was lying far back in the avenue, a bullet in his head. hobbling to the middle of the road, the american threw up his hands and shouted briskly to the bewildered animal. throwing his ears forward in considerable doubt, the horse came to a standstill close at hand. five seconds later king was in the saddle and tearing along in the wake of the retreating guard, his hair blowing from his forehead, his blood leaping with the joy of achievement. mr. hobbs afterward informed him that count vos engo's oaths were worth going miles to avoid. "we need such men as king!" cried colonel quinnox as he waited inside the gates for the wild rider. a moment later king dashed through and the massive bolts were shot. as he pulled up in front of the steward's lodge to await the orders of the colonel, the exultant american completed the soliloquy that began with the mad impulse to ride into port under his own sails. "i'll have to tell her that he did a fine thing in coming back for me, much as he hated to do it. what's more, i shan't say a word about his beastly temper. we'll let it pass. he deserves a whole lot for the part he played. i'll not forget it. too bad he had to spoil it all by talking as he did. but, hang me, if he shall exact anything from her because he did a thing he didn't want to do. i took a darned sight bigger chance than he did, after all. good lord, what a mess i would have been in if the nag hadn't stopped! whew! well, old boy, you did stop, god bless you. colonel," he spoke, as quinnox came up, "do you think i can buy this horse? he's got more sense than i have." small bodies of foot soldiers and policemen fighting valiantly against great odds were admitted to the grounds during the next half hour. scores had been killed by the fierce, irregular attack of the revolutionists; others had become separated from their comrades and were even now being hunted down and destroyed by the infuriated followers of marlanx. a hundred or more of the reserves reached the upper gates before it occurred to the enemy to blockade the streets in that neighbourhood. general braze, with a few of his men, bloody and heartsick, was the last of the little army to reach safety in the castle grounds, coming up by way of the lower gates from the fortress, which they had tried to reach after the first outbreak, but had found themselves forestalled. the fortress, with all guns, stores and ammunition, was in the hands of the iron count and his cohorts. baron dangloss had been taken prisoner with a whole platoon of fighting constables. this was the last appalling bit of news to reach the horrified, disorganised forces in the castle grounds. citizens had fled to their homes, unmolested. the streets were empty, save for the armed minions of the iron count. they rushed hither and thither in violent detachments, seeking out the men in uniform, yelling and shooting like unmanageable savages. before two o'clock the city itself was in the hands of the hated enemy of the crown. he and his aliens, malefactors and all, were in complete control of the fortress, the gates and approaches, the tower and the bloody streets. a thousand of them,--eager, yelling ruffians,--marched to within firing distance of the castle walls and held every approach against reinforcements. except for the failure to destroy the prince and his counsellors, the daring, unspeakable plans of count marlanx had been attended by the most horrifying results. he was master. there was no question as to that. the few hundred souls in the castle grounds were like rats in a trap. a wise as well as a cruel man was marlanx. he lost no time in issuing a manifesto to the stunned, demoralised citizens of edelweiss. scores of criers went through the streets during the long, wretched afternoon, announcing to the populace that count marlanx had established himself as dictator and military governor of the principality--pending the abdication of the prince and the beginning of a new and substantial regime. all citizens were commanded to recognise the authority of the dictator; none except those who disobeyed or resented this authority would be molested. traffic would be resumed on the following monday. tradespeople and artisans were commanded to resume their occupations under penalty of extreme punishment in case of refusal. these and many other edicts were issued from marlanx's temporary headquarters in the plaza--almost at the foot of the still veiled monument of the beloved princess yetive. toward evening, after many consultations and countless reports, marlanx removed his headquarters to the tower. he had fondly hoped to be in the castle long before this. his rage and disappointment over the stupid miscarriage of plans left no room for conjecture as to the actual state of his feelings. for hours he had raved like a madman. every soldier who fell into his hands was shot down like a dog. the cells and dungeons in the great old tower were now occupied by bruised, defeated officers of the law. baron jasto dangloss, crushed in spirit and broken of body, paced the blackest and narrowest cell of them all. the gall and wormwood that filled his soul was not to be measured by words. he blamed himself for the catastrophe; it was he who had permitted this appalling thing to grow and burst with such sickening results. in his mind there was no doubt that marlanx had completely overthrown the dynasty and was in full possession of the government. he did not know that the prince and his court had succeeded in reaching the castle, whose walls and gates were well-nigh impregnable to assault, even by a great army. if he had known this he might have rejoiced! late in the evening he received a visit from marlanx, the new master. the iron count, lighted by a ghostly lantern in the hands of a man who, ten hours before, had been a prisoner within these very walls, came up to the narrow grating that served as a door and gazed complacently upon the once great minister of police. "well," said dangloss, his eyes snapping, "what is it, damn you?" marlanx stroked his chin and smiled. "i believe this is my old confrère, baron dangloss," he remarked. "dear me, i took you, sir, to be quite impeccable. here you are, behind the bars. will wonders never cease?" dangloss merely glared at him. the iron count went on suavely: "you heard me, baron. still, i do not require an answer. how do you like your new quarters? it may please you to know that i am occupying your office, and also that noble suite overlooking the plaza. i find myself most agreeably situated. by the way, baron, i seem to recall something to mind as i look at you. you were the kindly disposed gentleman who escorted me to the city gates a few years ago and there turned me over to a detachment of soldiers, who, in turn, conveyed me to the border. if i recall the occasion rightly, you virtually kicked me out of the city. am i right?" "you are!" was all that the bitter dangloss said, without taking his fierce gaze from the sallow face beyond the bars. "i am happy to find that my memory is so good," said marlanx. "i expect to be able to repeat the operation," said dangloss. "how interesting! you forget that history never repeats itself." "see here, marlanx, what is your game? speak up; i'm not afraid of you. do you intend to take me out and shoot me at sunrise?" "oh, dear me, no! that would be a silly proceeding. you own vast estates in graustark, if i mistake not, just as i did eight or nine years ago. well, i have come into my own again. the crown relieved me of my estates, my citizenship, my honour. i have waited long to regain them. understand me, dangloss; i am in control now; my word is law. i do not intend to kill you. it is my intention to escort you to the border and kick you out of graustark. see for yourself how it feels. everything you possess is to be taken away from you. you will be a wanderer on the face of the earth--a pauper. all you have is here. therein lies the distinction: i had large possessions in other lands. i had friends and a following, as you see. you will have none of these, baron." "a splendid triumph, you beast!" "of course, you'd much prefer being shot." "not at all. banish me, if you please; strip me of all i possess. but i'll come back another day, count marlanx." "ah, yes; that reminds me. i had quite forgotten to say that the first ten years of your exile are to be spent in the dungeons at schloss marlanx. how careless of me to have neglected to state that in the beginning. in ten years you will be seventy-five, baron. an excellent time of life for one to begin his wanderings over the world which will not care to remember him." "do you expect me to get down on my knees and plead for mercy, you scoundrel?" "i know you too well for that, my dear baron." "get out of my sight!" "pray do not forget that i am governor of the tower at present. i go and come as i choose." "god will punish you for what you have done. there's solace in that." "as you like, baron. if it makes it easier for you to feel that god will take a hand in my humble affairs, all well and good. i grant you that delectable privilege." baron dangloss turned his back upon his smiling enemy, his body quivering with passion. "by the way, baron, would you care to hear all the latest news from the seat of war? it may interest you to know that the castle is besieged in most proper fashion. no one--" "the castle besieged? then, by the eternal, you did not take the prince!" "not at all! he is in the castle for a few hours of imaginary safety. to-night my men will be admitted to the grounds by friends who have served two masters for a twelve-month or longer." "traitors in the castle?" cried dangloss in horror. he was now facing the count. "hardly that, my dear sir. agents, i should call them. isn't it splendid?" "you are a--" "don't say it, baron. save your breath. i know what you would call me, and can save you the trouble of shouting it, as you seem inclined to do." "thank god, your assassins not only failed to dynamite the boy, but your dogs failed to capture him. by heaven, god _is_ with prince robin, after all!" "how exalted you seem, baron! it is a treat to look at you. oh, another thing: the platanova girl was not _my_ assassin." "that's a lie!" "you shall not chide me in that fashion, baron. you are very rude. no; the girl was operating for what i have since discovered to be the committee of ten, leading the party of equals in graustark. to-morrow morning i shall have the committee of ten seized and shot in the public square. we cannot harbour dynamiters and assassins of that type. there are two-score or more of anarchist sympathisers here. we will cheerfully shoot all of them--an act that you should have performed many days ago, my astute friend. it might have saved trouble. they are a dangerous element in any town. those whom i do not kill i shall transport to the united states in exchange for the americans who have managed to lose themselves over here. a fair exchange, you see. moreover, i hear that the united states government welcomes the reds if they are white instead of yellow. clever, but involved, eh? well, good night, baron. sleep well. i expect to see you again after the rush of business attending the adjustment of my own particular affairs. in a day or two i shall move into the castle. you may be relieved to know that i do not expect to find the time to kick you out of graustark under a week or ten days." "my men: what of them? the brave fellows who were taken with me? you will not deprive--" "in time they will be given the choice of serving me as policemen or serving the world as examples of folly. rest easy concerning them. ah, yes, again i have stupidly forgotten something. your excellent friend, tullis, will not re-enter edelweiss alive. that is quite assured, sir. so you see, he will, after all, be better off than you. i don't blame him for loving my wife. it was my desire to amicably trade my wife off to him for his charming sister, but the deal hangs fire. what a scowl! i dare say you contemplate saying something bitter, so i'll retire. a little later on i shall be chatting with the prince at the castle. i'll give him your gentlest felicitations." but marlanx was doomed to another disappointment before the night was over. the castle gates were not opened to his forces. colonel quinnox apprehended the traitors in time to prevent the calamity. ten hostlers in the royal stables were taken redhanded in the attempt to overpower the small guard at the western gates. their object was made plain by the subsequent futile movement of a large force of men at that particular point. prince robin was safe for the night. chapter xviii truxton on parade count marlanx was a soldier. he knew how to take defeat and to bide his time; he knew how to behave in the hour of victory and in the moment of rout. the miscarriage of a detail here and there in this vast, comprehensive plan of action did not in the least sense discourage him. it was no light blow to his calculations, of course, when the designs of an organisation separate and distinct from his own failed in their purpose. it was part of his plan to hold the misguided reds responsible for the lamentable death of prince robin. the people were to be given swift, uncontrovertible proof that he had no hand in the unforeseen transactions of the anarchists, who, he would make it appear, had by curious coincidence elected to kill the prince almost at the very hour when he planned to seize the city as a conqueror. his own connection with the operations of the mysterious committee of ten was never to be known to the world. he would see to that. at nine o'clock on sunday morning a small group of people gathered in the square: a meeting was soon in progress. a goods-box stood over against the very spot on which olga platanova died. an old man began haranguing the constantly growing crowd, made up largely of those whose curiosity surpassed discreetness. in the group might have been seen every member of the committee of ten, besides a full representation of those who up to now had secretly affiliated with the party of equals. a red flag waved above the little, excited group of fanatics, close to the goods-box rostrum. one member of the committee was absent from this, their first public espousal of the cause. later on we are to discover who this man was. two women in bright red waists were crying encouragement to the old man on the box, whose opening sentences were no less than an unchanted requiem for the dead martyr, olga platanova. in the midst of his harangue, the hand of william spantz was arrested in one of its most emphatic gestures. a look of wonder and uncertainty came into his face as he gazed, transfixed, over the heads of his hearers in the direction of the tower. peter brutus was approaching, at the head of a group of aliens, all armed and marching in ominously good order. something in the face of peter brutus sent a chill of apprehension into the very soul of the old armourer. and well it may have done so. "one moment!" called out peter brutus, lifting his hand imperatively. the speaker ceased his mouthings. "count marlanx desires the immediate presence of the following citizens at his office in the tower. i shall call off the names." he began with william spantz. the name of each of his associates in the committee of ten followed. after them came a score of names, all of them known to be supporters of the anarchist cause. "what is the business, peter?" demanded william spantz. "does it mean we are to begin so soon the establishing of the new order--" began anna cromer, her face aglow. peter smiled wanly. "do not ask me," he said, emphasising the pronoun. "i am only commanded to bring the faithful few before him." "but why the armed escort?" growled julius spantz, who had spent an unhappy twenty-four hours in bondage. "to separate the wheat from the chaff," said peter. "move on, good people, all you whose names were not called." the order was to the few timid strangers who were there because they had nowhere else to go. they scattered like chaff. ten minutes later every member of the committee of ten, except peter brutus, was behind lock and bar, together with their shivering associates, all of them dumbly muttering to themselves the awful sentence that marlanx had passed upon them. "you are to die at sunset. graustark still knows how to punish assassins. she will make an example of you to-day that all creatures of your kind, the world over, will not be likely to forget in a century to come. there is no room in graustark for anarchy. i shall wipe it out to-day." "sir, your promise!" gasped william spantz. "we are your friends--the true party of--" "enough! do not speak again! captain brutus, you will send criers abroad to notify the citizens that i, count marlanx, have ordered the execution of the ringleaders in the plot to dynamite the prince. at sunset, in the square. away with the carrion!" then it was, and not till then, that the committee of ten found him out! then it was that they came to know peter brutus! what were their thoughts, we dare not tell: their shrieks and curses were spent against inpenetrable floors and walls. baron dangloss heard, and, in time, understood. even he shrank back and shuddered. it has been said that marlanx was a soldier. there is one duty that the soldier in command never neglects: the duty to those who fell while fighting bravely for or against him. sunday afternoon a force of men was set to work burying the dead and clearing the pavements. those of his own nondescript army who gave up their lives on the th were buried in the public cemeteries. the soldiers of the crown, as well as the military police, were laid to rest in the national cemetery, with honours befitting their rank. each grave was carefully marked and a record preserved. in this way marlanx hoped to obtain his first footing in the confidence and esteem of the citizens. the unrecognisable corpse of olga platanova was buried in quicklime outside the city walls. there was something distinctly gruesome in the fact that half a dozen deep graves were dug alongside hers, hours before death came to the wretches who were to occupy them. at three o'clock the iron count coolly sent messengers to the homes of the leading merchants and bankers of the city. they, with the priests, the doctors, the municipal officers and the manufacturers were commanded to appear before him at five o'clock for the purpose of discussing the welfare of the city and its people. hating, yet fearing him, they came; not one but felt in his heart that the old man was undisputed ruler of their destinies. hours of horror and despair, a night and a day of bitter reflection, had brought the trembling populace to the point of seeing clearly the whole miserable situation. the reserves were powerless; the royal guard was besieged and greatly outnumbered; the fortress was lost. there was nothing for them to do but temporise. time alone could open the way to salvation. marlanx stated his position clearly. he left no room for doubt in their minds. the strings were in his hands: he had but to pull them. the desire of his life was about to be attained. without hesitation he informed the leading men of the city that he was to be the prince of graustark. "i have the city," he said calmly. "the farms and villages will fall in line. i do not worry over them. in a very short time i shall have the castle. the question for you to decide for yourselves is this: will you be content to remain here as thrifty, peaceable citizens, protecting your fortunes and being protected by a man and not by a child. if not, please say so. the alternative is in the hands of the crown. i am the crown. the crown may at any time confiscate property and banish malcontents and disturbers. a word to the wise, gentlemen. inside of a week we will have a new government. you will not suffer under its administration. i should be indeed a fool to destroy the credit or injure the integrity of my own dominion. but, let me say this, gentlemen," he went on after a pause, in which his suavity gave way to harshness; "you may as well understand at the outset that i expect to rule here. i will rule graustark or destroy her." the more courageous in his audience began to protest against the high-handed manner in which he proposed to treat them. not a few declared that they would never recognise him as a prince of the realm. he waited, as a spider waits, until he thought they had gone far enough. then he held up his hand and commanded silence. "those of you who do not expect or desire to live under my rule--which, i promise you, shall be a wise one,--may leave the city for other lands just as soon as my deputies have completed the formal transfer of all your belongings to the crown treasury--all, i say, even to the minutest trifle. permit me to add, in that connection, gentlemen: the transfer will not be a prolonged affair." they glared back at him and subsided into bitter silence. "i am well aware that you love little prince robin. ha! you may not cheer here, gentlemen, under penalty of my displeasure. it is quite right that you should, as loyal subjects, love your prince, whoever he may be. i shall certainly expect it. now, respecting young master robin: i have no great desire to kill him." he waited to see the effect of this brutal announcement. his hearers stiffened and--yes, they held their breath. "he has one alternative--he and his lords. i trust that you, as sensible gentlemen, will find the means to convey to him your advice that he seize the opportunity i shall offer him to escape with his life. no one really wants to see the little chap die. let me interrupt myself to call to your attention the fact that i am punishing the anarchists at sunset. this to convince you that assassination will not be tolerated in graustark. to resume: the boy may return to america, where he belongs. he is more of an american than one of us. i will give him free and safe escort to the united states. certain of his friends may accompany him; others whom i shall designate will be required to remain here until i have disposed of their cases as i see fit. these conditions i shall set forth in my manifesto to the present occupant of the castle. if he chooses to accept my kindly terms, all well and good. if not, gentlemen, i shall starve him out or blow the castle down about his smart little ears. you shudder! well, i can't blame you. i shudder myself sometimes when i think of it. there will be a great deal of royal blood, you know. ah, that reminds me: it may interest you to hear that i expect to establish a new nobility in graustark. the present house of lords is objectionable to me. i trust i may now be addressing at least a few of the future noble lords of graustark. good day, gentlemen. that is all for the present. kindly inform me if any of my soldiers or followers overstep the bounds of prudence. rapine and ribaldry will not be tolerated." the dignitaries and great men of the city went away, dazed and depressed, looking at each other from bloodshot eyes. not one friend had marlanx in that group, and he knew it well. he did not expect them to submit at once or even remotely. they might have smiled, whereas they frowned, if they could have seen him pacing the floor of his office, the moment the doors closed behind their backs, clenching his hands and cursing furiously. at the castle the deepest gloom prevailed. it was like a nightmare to the beleaguered household, a dream from which there seemed to be no awakening. colonel quinnox's first act after posting his forces in position to repel attacks from the now well-recognised enemy, was to make sure of the safety of his royal master. inside the walls of the castle grounds he, as commander of the royal guard, ruled supreme. general braze tore off his own epaulets and presented himself to quinnox as a soldier of the file; lords and dukes, pages and ministers, followed the example of the head of the war department. no one stood on the dignity of his position; no one does, as a rule, with the executioner staring him in the face. every man took up arms for the defence of the castle, its prince and its lovely women. prince robin, quite recovered from his fright, donned the uniform of a colonel of the royal dragoons, buckled on his jewelled sword, and, with boyish zeal, demanded colonel quinnox's reasons for not going forth to slay the rioters. "what is the army for, colonel quinnox?" he asked with impatient wonder. it was late in the afternoon and the prince was seated in the chair of state, presiding over the hurriedly called council meeting. notably absent were baron dangloss and the duke of perse. chief officers of the guard and the commissioned men of the army were present--that is, all of them who had not gone down under the treacherous fire. "your highness," said the colonel bitterly, "the real army is outside the walls, not inside. we are a pitiful handful-less than three hundred men, all told, counting the wounded. count marlanx heads an army of several thousand. he--" "he wants to get in here so's he can kill me? is that so, colonel quinnox?" the prince was very pale, but quite calm. "oh, i wouldn't put it just that way, your--" "oh, i know. you can't fool me. i've always known that he wants to kill me. but how can he? that's the question; how can he when i've got the royal guard to keep him from doing it? he can't whip the royal guard. nobody can. he ought to know that. he must be awful stupid." his perfect, unwavering faith in the guard was the same that had grown up with every prince of graustark and would not be gainsaid. a score of hearts swelled with righteous pride and as many scabbards rattled as heels clicked and hands went up in salute. "your highness," said quinnox, with a glance at his fellow-officers, "you may rely upon it, count marlanx will never reach you until he has slain every man in the royal guard." "and in the army--our poor little army," added general braze. "thank you," said the prince. "you needn't have told me. i knew it." he leaned back in the big chair, almost slipping from the record books on which he sat, a brave scowl on his face. "gee, i wish he'd attack us right now," he said, with ingenuous bravado. the council of war was not a lengthy one. the storm that had arisen out of a perfectly clear sky was briefly discussed in all its phases. no man there but realised the seriousness of the situation. count halfont, who seemed ten years older than when we last saw him, addressed the cabinet. "john tullis is still outside the city walls. if he does not fall into a trap through ignorance of the city's plight, i firmly believe he will be able to organise an army of relief among the peasants and villagers. they are loyal. the mountaineers and shepherds, wild fellows all, and the ones who have fallen into the spider's net. count marlanx has an army of aliens; they are not even revolutionists. john tullis, if given the opportunity, can sweep the city clear of them. my only fear is that he may be tricked into ambush before we can reach him. no doubt marlanx, in devising a way to get him out of the city, also thought of the means to keep him out." "we must get word to tullis," cried several in a breath. a dozen men volunteered to risk their lives in the attempt to find the american in the hills. two men were chosen--by lot. they were to venture forth that very night. "my lords," said the prince, as the council was on the point of dissolving, "is it all right for me to ask a question now?" "certainly, robin," said the prime minister. "well, i'd like to know where mr. king is." "he's safe, your highness," said quinnox. "aunt loraine is worried, that's all. she's sick, you see--awful sick. do you think mr. king would be good enough to walk by her window, so's she can see for herself? she's in the royal bedchamber." "the royal bedchamber?" gasped the high chamberlain. "i gave up my bed right off, but she won't stay in it. she sits in the window most of the time. it's all right about the bed. i spoke to nurse about it. besides, i don't want to go to bed while there's any fighting going on. so, you see, it's all right. say, uncle caspar, may i take a crack at old marlanx with my new rifle if i get a chance? i've been practising on the target range, and uncle jack says i'm a reg'lar buffalo bill." count halfont unceremoniously hugged his wriggling grand-nephew. a cheer went up from the others. "long live prince robin!" shouted count vos engo. prince robin looked abashed. "i don't think i could hit him," he said with becoming modesty. they laughed aloud. "but, say, don't forget about mr. king. tell him i want him to parade most of the time in front of my windows." "he has a weak ankle," began colonel quinnox lamely. "very difficult for him to walk," said vos engo, biting his lips. the prince looked from face to face, suspicion in his eyes. it dawned on him that they were evading the point. a stubborn line appeared between his brows. "then i command you, colonel quinnox, to give him the best horse in the stables. i want him to ride." "it shall be as you command, your highness." a few minutes later, his grand-uncle, the prime minister, was carrying him down the corridor; prince robin was perched upon the old man's shoulder, and was a thoughtful mood. "say, uncle caspar, mr. king's all right, isn't he?" "he is a very brave and noble gentleman, bobby. we owe to his valour the life of the best boy in all the world." "yes, and aunt loraine owes him a lot, too. she says so. she's been crying, uncle caspar. say, has she just got to marry count vos engo?" "my boy, what put that question into your mind?" "she says she has to. i thought only princes and princesses had to marry people they don't want to." "you should not believe all that you hear." bobby was silent for twenty steps. then he said: "well, i think she'll make an awful mistake if she lets mr. king get away." "my boy, we have other affairs to trouble us at present without taking up the affairs of miss tullis." "well, he saved her life, just like they do in story books," protested the prince. "well, you run in and tell her this minute that mr. king sends his love to her and begs her to rest easy. see if it doesn't cheer her up a bit." "maybe she's worried about uncle jack. i never thought about that," he faltered. "uncle jack will come out on top, never fear," cried the old man. half an hour later, truxton king, shaven and shorn, outfitted and polished, received orders to ride for twenty minutes back and forth across the plaza. he came down from colonel quinnox's rooms in the officer's row, considerably mystified, and mounted the handsome bay that he had brought through the gates. haddan, of the guard, rode with him to the plaza, but could offer no explanation for the curious command. five times the now resentful american walked his horse across the plaza, directly in front of the terrace and the great balconies. about him paced guardsmen, armed and alert; on the outer edge of the parade ground a company of soldiers were hurrying through the act of changing the guard; in the lower balcony excited men and women were walking back and forth, paying not the least attention to him. above him frowned the grey, lofty walls of the castle. no one was in view on the upper balcony, beyond which he had no doubt lay the royal chambers. he had the mean, uncomfortable feeling that people were peering at him from remote windows. suddenly a small figure in bright red and gold and waving a tiny sword appeared at the rail of the broad upper gallery. truxton blinked his eyes once or, twice and then doffed his hat. the prince was smiling eagerly. "hello!" he called. truxton drew rein directly below him. "i trust your highness has recovered from the shock of to-day," he responded. "i have been terribly anxious. are you quite well?" "quite well, thank you." he hesitated for a moment, as if in doubt. then: "say, mr. king, how's your leg?" truxton looked around in sudden embarrassment. a number of distressed, white-faced ladies had paused in the lower gallery and were staring at him in mingled curiosity and alarm. he instantly wondered if colonel quinnox's riding clothes were as good a fit as he had been led to believe through hobbs and others. "it's--it's fine, thank you," he called up, trying to subdue his voice as much as possible. bobby looked a trifle uncertain. his glance wavered and a queer little wrinkle appeared between his eyes. he lowered his voice when he next spoke. "say, would you mind shouting that a little louder," he called down, leaning well over the rail. truxton flushed. he was pretty sure that the prince was not deaf. there was no way out of it, however, so he repeated his communication. "it's all right, your highness." bobby gave a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the broad windows. truxton distinctly saw the blinds close with a convulsive jerk. "thanks! much obliged! good-bye!" sang out the prince, gleefully. he waved his hand and then hopped off the chair on which he was standing. truxton heard his little heels clatter across the stone balcony. for a moment he was nonplused. "well, i'm--by jove! i understand!" he rode off toward the barracks, his head swimming with joy, his heart jumping like mad. at the edge of the parade ground he turned in his saddle and audaciously lifted his hat to the girl who, to his certain knowledge, was standing behind the tell-tale blind. "cheer up, hobbs!" he sang out in his new-found exuberance as he rode up to the dismal englishman, who moped in the shade of the stable walls. "don't be down-hearted. look at me! never say die, that's my motto." "that's all very well, sir," said hobbs, removing the unlighted pipe from his lips, "but you 'aven't got a dog and a parrot locked up in your rooms with no one to feed them. it makes me sick, 'pon my soul, sir, to think of them dying of thirst and all that, and me here safe and sound, so to speak." that night haddan and a fellow-subaltern attempted to leave the castle grounds by way of the private gate in the western wall, only to be driven back by careful watchers on the outside. a second attempt was made at two o'clock. this time they went through the crypt into the secret underground passage. as they crawled forth into the blackest of nights, clear of the walls, they were met by a perfect fusillade of rifle shots. haddan's companion was shot through the leg and arm and it was with extreme difficulty that the pair succeeded in regaining the passage and closing the door. no other attempt was made that night. sunday night a quick sortie was made, it being the hope of the besieged that two selected men might elude marlanx's watch-dogs during the melee that followed. curiously enough, the only men killed were the two who had been chosen to run the gauntlet in the gallant, but ill-timed attempt to reach john tullis. on monday morning the first direct word from count marlanx came to the castle. under a flag of truce, two of his men were admitted to the grounds. they presented the infamous ultimatum of the iron count. in brief, it announced the establishment of a dictatorship pending the formal assumption of the crown by the conqueror. with scant courtesy the iron count begged to inform prince robin that his rule was at an end. surrender would result in his safe conduct to america, the home of his father; defiance would just so surely end in death for him and all of his friends. the prince was given twenty-four hours in which to surrender his person to the new governor of the city. with the expiration of the time limit mentioned, the castle would be shelled from the fortress, greatly as the dictator might regret the destruction of the historic and well-beloved structure. no one would be spared if it became necessary to bombard; the rejection of his offer of mercy would be taken as a sign that the defenders were ready to die for a lost cause. he would cheerfully see to it that they died as quickly as possible, in order that the course of government might not be obstructed any longer than necessary. the defenders of the castle tore his message in two and sent it back to him without disfiguring it by a single word in reply. the scornful laughter which greeted the reading of the document by count halfont did not lose any of its force in the report that the truce-bearers carried, with considerable uneasiness, to the iron count later on. no one in the castle was deceived by marlanx's promise to provide safe conduct for the prince. they knew that the boy was doomed if he fell into the hands of this iniquitous old schemer. more than that, there was not a heart among them so faint that it was not confident of eventual victory over the usurper. they could hold out for weeks against starvation. hope is an able provider. a single, distant volley at sunset had puzzled the men on guard at the castle. they had no means of knowing that the committee of ten and its wretched friends had been shot down like dogs in the public square. peter brutus was in charge of the squad of executioners. soon after the return of marlanx's messengers to the tower, a number of carriages were observed approaching in castle avenue. they were halted a couple of hundred yards from the gates and once more a flag of truce was presented. there was a single line from marlanx: "i am sending indisputable witnesses to bear testimony to the thoroughness of my conquest. "marlanx." investigation convinced the captain of the guard that the motley caravan in the avenue was made up of loyal, representative citizens from the important villages of the realm. they were admitted to the grounds without question. the countess prandeville of ganlook, terribly agitated, was one of the first to enter the haven of safety, such as it was. after her came the mayors and the magistrates of a dozen villages. count marlanx's reason for delivering these people over to their friends in the castle was at once manifest. by the words of their mouths his almost complete mastery of the situation was conveyed to the prince's defenders. in every instance the representative from a village sorrowfully admitted that marlanx's men were in control. ganlook, an ancient stronghold, had been taken without a struggle by a handful of men. the countess's husband was even now confined in his own castle under guard. the news was staggering. count halfont had based his strongest hopes on the assistance that would naturally come from the villages. moreover, the strangely commissioned emissaries cast additional gloom over the situation by the report that mountaineers, herdsmen and woodchoppers in the north were flocking to the assistance of the iron count, followed by hordes of outlaws from the axphain hills. they were swarming into the city. these men had always been thorns in the sides of the crown's peace-makers. "it is worse than i thought," said count halfont, after listening to the words of the excited magistrates. "are there no loyal men outside these walls?" "thousands, sir, but they are not organised. they have no leader, and but little with which to fight against such a force." "it is hard to realise that a force of three or four thousand desperadoes has the power to defy an entire kingdom. a city of , people in the hands of hirelings! the shame of it!" truxton king was leaning against a column not far from the little group, nervously pulling away at the pipe quinnox had given him. as if impelled by a common thought, a half dozen pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. their owners looked as quickly away, again moved by a common thought. the minister of mines gave utterance to a single sentence that might well have been called the epitome of that shrewd, concentrated thought: "there must be some one who can get to john tullis before it is too late." they looked at one another and then once more at the american who had come among them, avowedly in quest of adventure. chapter xix truxton exacts a promise truxton king had been in a resentful frame of mind for nearly forty-eight hours. in the first place, he had not had so much as a single glimpse of the girl he now worshipped with all his heart. in the second place, he had learned, with unpleasant promptness, that count vos engo was the officer in command of the house guard, a position as gravely responsible as it was honourable. the cordon about the castle was so tightly drawn in these perilous hours that even members of the household were subjected to examination on leaving or entering. truxton naturally did not expect to invade the castle in search of the crumb of comfort he so ardently desired; he did not, however, dream that vos engo would deny him the privilege of staring at a certain window from a rather prim retreat in a far corner of the plaza. he had, of course, proffered his services to colonel quinnox. the colonel, who admired the americans, gravely informed him that there was no regular duty to which he could be assigned, but that he would expect him to hold himself ready for any emergency. in case of an assault, he was to report to count vos engo. "we will need our bravest men at the castle," he had said. truxton glowed under the compliment. "in the meantime, mr. king, regain your strength in the park. you show the effect of imprisonment. your adventures have been most interesting, but i fancy they invite rest for the present." it was natural that this new american should become an object of tremendous interest to every one in and about the castle. the story of his mishaps and his prowess was on every lip; his timely appearance in regengetz circus was regarded in the light of divine intervention, although no one questioned the perfectly human pluck that brought it about. noble ladies smiled upon him in the park, to which they now repaired with timorous hearts; counts and barons slapped him on the back and doughty guardsmen actually saluted him with admiration in their eyes. but he was not satisfied. loraine had not come forward with a word of greeting or relief; in fact, she had not appeared outside the castle doors. strangely enough, with the entire park at his disposal, he chose to frequent those avenues nearest the great balconies. more than once he visited the grotto where he had first seen her; but it was not the same. the occasional crack of a rifle on the walls no longer fired him with the interest he had felt in the beginning. forty-eight hours had passed and she still held aloof. what could it mean? was she ill? had she collapsed after the frightful strain? worse than anything else: was she devoting all of her time to count vos engo? toward dusk on monday, long after the arrival of the refugees, he sat in gloomy contemplation of his own unhappiness, darkly glowering upon the unfriendly portals from a distant stone bench. a brisk guardsman separated himself from the knot of men at the castle doors and crossed the plaza toward him. "aha," thought truxton warmly, "at last she is sending a message to me. perhaps she's--no, she couldn't be sending for me to come to her." judge his dismay and anger when the soldier, a bit shamefaced himself, briefly announced that count vos engo had issued an order against loitering in close proximity to the castle. mr. king was inside the limit described in the order. would he kindly retire to a more distant spot, etc. truxton's cheek burned. he saw in an instant that the order was meant for him and for no one else--he being the only outsider likely to come under the head of "loiterer." a sharp glance revealed the fact that not only were the officers watching the little scene, but others in the balcony were looking on. resisting the impulse to argue the point, he hastily lifted his hat to the spectators and turned into the avenue without a word. "i am sorry, sir," mentioned the guardsman earnestly. truxton turned to him with a frank smile, meant for the group at the steps. "please tell count vos engo that i am the last person in the world to disregard discipline at a time like this." his glance again swept the balcony, suddenly becoming fixed on a couple near the third column. count vos engo and loraine tullis were standing there together, unmistakably watching his humiliating departure. to say that truxton swore softly as he hurried off through the trees would be unnecessarily charitable. the next morning he encountered vos engo near the grotto. two unsuccessful attempts to leave the castle grounds had been made during the night. truxton had aired his opinion to mr. hobbs after breakfast. "i'll bet my head i could get away with it," he had said, doubly scornful because of a sleepless night. "they go about it like a lot of chumps. no wonder they are chased back." catching sight of vos engo, he hastened across the avenue and caught up to him. the count was apparently deep in thought. "good morning," said truxton from behind. the other whirled quickly. he did not smile as he eyed the tall american. "i haven't had a chance to thank you for coming back for me last saturday. allow me to say that it was a very brave thing to do. if i appeared ungrateful at the time, i'm sure you understood my motives." "the whole matter is of no consequence, mr. king," said the other quietly. "nevertheless, i consider it my duty to thank you. i want to get it out of my system. having purged myself of all that, i now want to tell you of a discovery that i made last evening." "i am not at all interested." "you will be when i have told you, however, because it concerns you." "i do not like your words, mr. king, nor the way in which you glare at me." "i'm making it easier to tell you the agreeable news, count vos engo; that's all. you'll be delighted to hear that i thought of you nearly all night and still feel that i have not been able to do you full justice." "indeed?" with a distinct uplifting of the eyebrows. "take your hand off your sword, please. some other time, perhaps, but not in these days when we need men, not cripples. i'll tell you what i have discovered and then we'll drop the matter until some other time. we can afford a physical delay, but it would be heartless to keep you in mental suspense. frankly, count, i have made the gratifying discovery that you are a damned cur." count vos engo went very white. he drew his dapper figure up to its full height, swelled his robin redbreast coat to the bursting point, and allowed his right hand to fly to his sword. then, as suddenly, he folded his arms and glared at truxton. "as you say, there is another and a better time. we need dogs as well as men in these days." "i hope you won't forget that i thanked you for coming back last saturday." the count turned and walked rapidly away. truxton leaned against the low wall alongside the allée. "i don't know that i've helped matters any," he said to himself ruefully. "he'll not let me get within half a mile of the castle after this. if she doesn't come out for a stroll in the park, i fancy i'll never see her--heigho! i wish something would happen! why doesn't marlanx begin bombarding? it's getting devilish monotonous here." he strolled off to the stables, picking up mr. hobbs on the way. "hobbs," he said, "we've got to find john tullis, that's all there is to it." he was scowling fiercely at a most inoffensive lawn-mower in the grass at the left. "i daresay, sir," said mr. hobbs with sprightly decisiveness. "he's very much needed." "i'm going to need him before long as my second." "your second, sir? are you going to fight a duel?" "i suppose so," lugubriously. "it's too much to expect him to meet me with bare fists. oh, hobbs, i wish we could arrange it for bare knucks!" he delivered a mighty swing at an invisible adversary. hobbs's hat fell off with the backward jerk of surprise. "oh, my word!" he exclaimed admiringly, "wot a punch you've got!" later on, much of his good humour was restored and his vanity pleased by a polite request from count halfont to attend an important council in the "room of wrangles" that evening at nine. very boldly he advanced upon the castle a few minutes before the appointed hour. he went alone, that he might show a certain contempt for count vos engo. notwithstanding the fact that he started early enough for the chamber, he was distressingly late for the meeting. he came upon loraine tullis at the edge of the terrace. she was walking slowly in the soft shadows beyond the row of lights on the lower gallery. king would have passed her without recognition, so dim was the light in this enchanted spot, had not his ear caught the sound of a whispered exclamation. at the same time the girl stopped abruptly in the darkest shadow. he knew her at a glance, this slim girl in spotless white. "loraine!" he whispered, reaching her side in two bounds. she put out her hands and he clasped them. a quick, hysterical little laugh came from her lips. plainly, she was confused. "i've been dying for a glimpse of you. do you think you've treated me--" "don't, truxton," she pleaded, suddenly serious. she sent a swift glance toward the balconies. "you must not come here. i saw--well, you know. i was so ashamed. i was so sorry." he still held her hands. his heart was throbbing furiously. "yes, they ordered me to move on, as if i were a common loafer," he said, with a soft chuckle. "i'm used to it, however. they ran me out of meshed for taking snapshots; they banished me from damascus, and they all but kicked me out of jerusalem--i won't say why. but where have you kept yourself? why have you avoided me? after getting the prince to parade me in front of your windows, too. it's dirt mean, loraine." "i have been ill, truxton--truly, i have," she said quickly, uneasily. "see here, what's wrong? you are in trouble. i can tell by your manner. tell me--trust me." "i am worried so dreadfully about john," she faltered. "that isn't all," he declared. "there's something else. what promise did you make to vos engo last saturday after--well, if you choose to recall it--after i brought you back to him--what did you promise him?" "don't be cruel, truxton," she pleaded. "i cannot forget all you have done for me." "you told vos engo to ride back and pick me up," he persisted. "he told me in so many words. now, i want a plain answer, loraine. did you promise to reward him if he--well, if he saved me from the mob?" she was breathlessly silent for a moment. "no," she said, in a low voice. "what was it, then? i must know, loraine." he was bending over her, imperiously. "i am very--oh, so very unhappy, truxton," she murmured. he was on the point of clasping her in his arms and kissing her. but he thought better of it. "i came near spoiling everything just now," he whispered hoarsely. "what?" "i almost kissed you, loraine,--i swear it was hard to keep from it. that would have spoiled everything." "yes, it would," she agreed quickly. "i'm not going to kiss you until you have told me you love vos engo." "i--i don't understand," she cried, drawing back and looking up into his face with bewildered eyes. "because then i'll be sure that you love me." "be sensible, truxton." "i'll know that you promised to love him if he'd save me. it's as clear as day to me. you _did_ tell him you'd marry him if he got me to a place of safety." "no. i _refused_ to marry him if he did not save you. oh, truxton, i am so miserable. what is to become of all of us? what is to become of john, and bobby--and you?" "i--i think i'll kiss you now, loraine," he whispered almost tremulously. "god, how i love you, little darling!" "don't!" she whispered, resolutely pushing him away after a sweet second of indecision. "i cannot--i cannot, truxton dear. don't ask me to--to do that. not now, please--not now!" he stiffened; his hands dropped to his sides, but there was joy in his voice. "i can wait," he said gently. "it's only a matter of a few days; and i--i won't make it any harder for you just now. i think i understand. you've--you've sort of pledged yourself to that--to him, and you don't think it fair to--well, to any of us. i'm including you, you see. i know you don't love him, and i know that you're going to love me, even if you don't at this very instant. i'm not a very stupid person, after all. i can see through things. i saw through it all when he came back for me. that's why i jumped from his horse and took my chances elsewhere. he did a plucky thing, loraine, but i--i couldn't let it go as he intended it to be. confound him, i would have died a thousand times over rather than have you sacrifice yourself in that way. it was splendid of you, darling, but--but very foolish. you've got yourself into a dreadful mess over it. i've got to rescue you all over again. this time, thank the lord, from a castle." she could not help smiling. his joyousness would not be denied. "how splendid you are!" she said, her voice thrilling with a tone that could not be mistaken. he put his hands upon her shoulders and looked down into the beautiful, upturned face, a genuinely serious note creeping into his voice when he spoke again. "don't misconstrue my light-heartedness, dearest. it's a habit with me, not a fault. i see the serious side to your affair--as you view it. you have promised to marry vos engo. you'll have to break that promise. he didn't save me. colonel quinnox would have accomplished it, in any event. he can't hold you to such a silly pledge. you--you haven't by any chance told him that you love him?" he asked this in sudden anxiety. "really, truxton, i cannot discuss--" "no, i'm quite sure you haven't," he announced contentedly. "you couldn't have done that, i know. now, i want you to make me a promise that you'll keep." "oh, truxton--don't ask me to say that i'll be your--" she stopped, painfully embarrassed. "that will come later," he said consolingly. "i want you to promise, on your sacred word of honour, that you'll kiss no man until you've kissed me." "oh!" she murmured, utterly speechless. "promise!" "i--i cannot promise that," she said in tones almost inaudible. "i am not sure that i'll ever--ever kiss anybody. how silly you are!" "i'll make exception in the case of your brother--and, yes, the prince." "i'll not make such a promise," she cried. "then, i'll be hanged if i'll save you from the ridiculous mess you've gotten yourself into," he announced with finality. "moreover, you're not yet safe from old marlanx. think it over, my--" "oh, he cannot seize the castle--it is impossible!" she cried in sudden terror. "i'm not so sure about that," he said laconically. "what is it you really want me to say?" she asked, looking up with sudden shyness in her starry eyes. "that you love me--and me only, loraine," he whispered. "i will not say it," she cried, breaking away from him. "but," as she ran to the steps, a delicious tremor in her voice--"i _will_ consider the other thing you ask." "darling--don't go," he cried, in eager, subdued tones, but she already was half way across the balcony. in a moment she was gone. "poor, harassed little sweetheart!" he murmured, with infinite tenderness. for a long time he stood there, looking at the window through which she had disappeared, his heart full of song. then, all at once, he remembered the meeting. "great scott!" in dismay. "i'm late for the pow-wow." a twisted smile stole over his face. "i wonder how they've managed to get along without me." then he presented himself, somewhat out of breath, to the attendants at the south doors, where he had been directed to report. a moment later he was in the castle of graustark, following a stiff-backed soldier through mediæval halls of marble, past the historic staircase, down to the door of the council chamber. he was filled with the most delicious sensation of awe and reverence. only in his dearest dreams had he fancied himself in these cherished halls. and now he was there--actually treading the same mosaic floors that had known the footsteps of countless princes and princesses, his nostrils tingling with the rare incense of five centuries, his blood leaping to the call of a thousand romances. the all but mythical halls of graustark--the sombre, vaulted, time-defying corridors of his fancy. somewhere in this vast pile of stone was the girl he loved. each shadowy nook, each velvety recess, seemed to glow with the wizardry of love-lamps that had been lighted with the building of the castle. how many hearts had learned the wistful lesson in these aged halls? how many loves had been sheltered here? he walked on air. he pinched himself--and even then was not certain that he was awake. it was too good to be true. he was ushered into a large, sedately furnished room. a score of men were there before him--sitting or standing in attitudes of attention, listening to the words of general braze. king's entrance was the signal for an immediate transfer of interest. the general bowed most politely and at once turned to count halfont with the remark that he had quite finished his suggestions. the prime minister came forward to greet the momentarily shy american. king had time to note that the only man who denied him a smile of welcome was count vos engo. he promptly included his rival in his own sweeping, self-conscious smile. "the council has been extolling you, mr. king," said the prime minister, leading him to a seat near his own. truxton sat down, bewildered. "we may some day grow large enough to adequately appreciate the invaluable, service you have performed in behalf of graustark." truxton blushed. he could think of nothing to say, except: "i'm sorry to have been so late. i was detained." involuntarily he glanced at vos engo. that gentleman started, a curious light leaping into his eyes. "mr. king, we have asked you here for the purpose of hearing the full story of your experiences during the past two weeks, if you will be so good as to relate them. we have had them piecemeal. i need not tell you that graustark is in the deepest peril. if there is a single suggestion that you can make that will help her to-night, i assure you that it will be given the most grateful consideration. graustark has come to know and respect the resourcefulness and courage of the american gentleman. we have seen him at his best." "i have really done no more than to--er--save my own neck," said truxton simply. "any one might be excused for doing the same. graustark owes a great deal more to miss tullis than it does to me, believe me, my lords. she had the courage, i the strength." "be assured of our attitude toward miss tullis," said halfont in reply. "graustark loves her. it can do no more than that. it is from miss tullis that we have learned the extent of your valorous achievements. ah, my dear young friend, she has given you a fair name. she tells us of a miracle and we are convinced." truxton stammered his remonstrances, but glowed with joy and pride. "here is the situation in a nutshell," went on the prime minister. "we are doomed unless succor reaches us from the outside. we have discussed a hundred projects. while we are inactive, count marlanx is gaining more power and a greater hold over the people of the city. we have no means of communication with prince dantan of dawsbergen, who is our friend. we seem unable to get warning to john tullis, who, if given time, might succeed in collecting a sufficient force of loyal countrymen to harass and eventually overthrow the dictator. unless he is reached before long, john tullis and his combined force of soldiers will be ambushed and destroyed. i am loth to speak of another alternative that has been discussed at length by the ministers and their friends. the duke of perse, from a bed of pain and anguish, has counselled us to take steps in the direction i am about to speak of. you see, we are taking you into our confidence, mr. king. "we can appeal to russia in this hour of stress. moreover, we may expect that help will be forthcoming. but we will have to make an unpleasant sacrifice. russia is eager to take over our new issue of railway bonds. hitherto, we have voted against disposing of the bonds in that country, the reason being obvious. st. petersburg wants a new connecting line with her possessions in afghanistan. our line will provide a most direct route--a cut-off, i believe they call it. last year the grand duke paulus volunteered to provide the money for the construction of the line from edelweiss north to balak on condition that russia be given the right to use the line in connection with her own roads to the orient. you may see the advantage in this to russia. mr. king, if i send word to the grand duke paulus, agreeing to his terms, which still remain open to us, signing away a most valuable right in what we had hoped would be our own individual property, we have every reason to believe that he will send armed forces to our relief, on the pretext that russia is defending properties of her own. that is one way in which we may oust count marlanx. the other lies in the ability of john tullis to give battle to him with our own people carrying the guns. i am confident that count marlanx will not bombard the castle except as a last resort. he will attempt to starve us into submission first; but he will not destroy property if he can help it. i have been as brief as possible. lieutenant haddan has told us quite lately of a remark you made which he happened to overhear. if i quote him correctly, you said to the englishman hobbs that you could get away with it, meaning, as i take it, that you could succeed in reaching john tullis. the remark interested me, coming as it did from one so resourceful. may i not implore you to tell us how you would go about it?" truxton had turned a brick red. shame and mortification surged within him. he was cruelly conscious of an undercurrent of irony in the premier's courteous request. for an instant he was sorely crushed. a low laugh from the opposite side of the room sent a shaft to his soul. he looked up. vos engo was still smiling. in an instant the american's blood boiled; his manner changed like a flash; blind, unreasoning bravado succeeded embarrassment. he faced count halfont coolly, almost impudently. "i think i was unfortunate enough to add that your men were going about it--well, like amateurs," he said, with a frank smile. "i meant no offense." then he arose suddenly, adjusted his necktie with the utmost _sang froid_, and announced: "i did say i could get to john tullis. if you like, i'll start to-night." his words created a profound impression, they came so abruptly. the men stared at him, then at each other. it was as if he had read their thoughts and had jumped at once to the conclusion that they were baiting him. every one began talking at once. soon some one began to shake his hand. then there were cheers and a dozen handshakings. truxton grimly realised that he had done just what they had expected him to do. he tried to look unconcerned. "you will require a guide," said colonel quinnox, who had been studying the _degage_ american in the most earnest manner. "send for mr. hobbs, please," said truxton. a messenger was sent post haste to the barracks. the news already was spreading throughout the castle. the chamber door was wide open and men were coming and going. eager women were peering through the doorway for a glimpse of the american. "there should be three of us," said king, addressing the men about him. "one of us is sure to get away." "there is not a man here--or in the service--who will not gladly accompany you, mr. king," cried general braze quickly. "count vos engo is the man i would choose, if i may be permitted the honour of naming my companion," said truxton, grinning inwardly with a malicious joy. vos engo turned a yellowish green. his eyes bulged. "i--i am in command of the person of his royal highness," he stammered, suddenly going very red. "i had forgotten your present occupation," said truxton quietly. "pray pardon the embarrassment i may have caused you. after all, i think hobbs will do. he knows the country like a book. besides, his business in the city must be very dull just now. he'll be glad to have the chance to personally conduct me for a few days. as an american tourist, i must insist, gentlemen, on being personally conducted by a man from cook's." they did not know whether to laugh or to treat it as a serious announcement. mr. hobbs came. that is to say, he was produced. it is doubtful if mr. hobbs ever fully recovered from the malady commonly known as stage fright. he had never been called mr. hobbs by a prime minister before, nor had he ever been asked in person by a minister of war if he had a family at home. moreover, no assemblage of noblemen had ever condescended to unite in three cheers for him. afterward truxton king was obliged to tell him that he had unwaveringly volunteered to accompany him on the perilous trip to the hills. be sure of it, mr. hobbs was not in a mental condition for many hours to even remotely comprehend what had taken place. he only knew that he had been invited, as an english _gentleman_, to participate in a council of war. but mr. hobbs was not the kind to falter, once he had given his word; however hazy he may have been at the moment, he knew that he had volunteered to do something. nor did it seem to surprise him when he finally found out what it was. "we'll be off at midnight, hobbs," said truxton, feeling in his pocket for the missing watch. "as you say, mr. king, just as you say," said hobbs with fine indifference. as truxton was leaving the castle ten minutes later, hobbs having gone before to see to the packing of food-bags and the filling of flasks, a brisk, eager-faced young attendant hurried up to him. "i bear a message from his royal highness," said the attendant, detaining him. "he should be sound asleep at this time," said truxton, surprised. "his royal highness insists on staying awake as long as possible, sir. it is far past his bedtime, but these are troublesome times, he says. every man should do his part. prince robin has asked for you, sir." "how's that?" "he desires you to appear before him at once, sir." "in--in the audience chamber?" "in his bedchamber, sir. he is very sleepy, but says that you are to come to him before starting away on your mission of danger." "plucky little beggar!" cried truxton, his heart swelling with love for the royal youngster. "sir!" exclaimed the attendant, his eyes wide with amazement and reproof. "i'll see him," said the other promptly, as if he were granting the audience. he followed the perplexed attendant up the grand staircase, across thickly carpeted halls in which posed statuesque soldiers of the royal guard, to the door of the prince's bedchamber. here he was confronted by count vos engo. "enter," said vos engo, with very poor grace, standing aside. the sentinels grounded their arms and truxton king passed into the royal chamber, alone. chapter xx by the water-gate it was a vast, lofty apartment, regal in its subdued lights. an enormous, golden bed with gorgeous hangings stood far down the room. so huge was this royal couch that truxton at first overlooked the figure sitting bolt upright in the middle of it. the tiny occupant called out in a very sleepy voice: "here i am, mr. king. gee, i hate a bed as big as this. they just make me sleep in it." an old woman advanced from the head of the couch and motioned truxton to approach. "i am deeply honoured, your highness," said the visitor, bowing very low. through the windows he could see motionless soldiers standing guard in the balcony. "come over here, mr. king. nurse won't let me get up. excuse my nighty, will you, please? i'm to have pajamas next winter." truxton advanced to the side of the bed. his eyes had swept the room in search of the one person he wanted most to see of all in the world. an old male servitor was drawing the curtains at the lower end of the room. there was no one else there, except the nurse. they seemed as much a part of the furnishings of this room as if they had been fixtures from the beginning. "i am sure you will like them," said truxton, wondering whether she were divinely secreted in one of the great, heavily draped window recesses. she had been in this room but recently. a subtle, delicate, enchanting perfume that he had noticed earlier in the evening--ah, he would never forget it. the prince's legs were now hanging over the edge of the bed. his eyes were dancing with excitement; sleep was momentarily routed. "say, mr. king, i wish i was going with you to find uncle jack. you will find him, won't you? i'm going to say it in my prayers to-night and every night. they won't hardly let me leave this room. it's rotten luck. i want to fight, too." "we are all fighting for you, prince robin." "i want you to find uncle jack, mr. king," went on bobby eagerly. "and tell him i didn't mean it when i banished him the other day. i really and truly didn't." he was having difficulty in keeping back the tears. "i shall deliver the message, your highness," said truxton, his heart going out to the unhappy youngster. "rest assured of that, please. go to sleep and dream that i have found him and am bringing him back to you. the dream will come true." "are you sure?" brightening perceptibly. "positively." "americans always do what they say they will," said the boy, his eyes snapping. "here's something for you to take with you, mr. king. it's my lucky stone. it always gives good luck. of course, you must promise to bring it back to me. it's an omen." he unclasped his small fingers; in the damp palm lay one of those peculiarly milky, half-transparent pebbles, common the world over and of value only to small, impressionable boys. truxton accepted it with profound gravity. "i found it last th of july, when we were celebrating out there in the park. i'm always going to have a th of july here. don't you lose it, mr. king, and you'll have good luck. baron dangloss says it's the luckiest kind of a stone. and when you come back, mr. king, i'm going to knight you. i'd do it now, only aunt loraine says you'd be worrying about your title all the time and might be 'stracted from your mission. i'm going to make a baron of you. that's higher than a count in graustark. vos engo is only a count." truxton started. he looked narrowly into the frank, engaging eyes of the boy in the nighty. "i shall be overwhelmed," he said. then his hand went to his mouth in the vain effort to cover the smile that played there. "my mother used to say that american girls liked titles," said the prince with ingenuous candor. "yes?" he hoped that she was eavesdropping. "nurse said that i was not to keep you long, mr. king," said the prince ruefully. "i suppose you are very busy getting ready. i just wanted to give you my lucky stone and tell you about being a baron. i won't have any luck till you come back. tell mr. hobbs i'm thinking of making him a count. you're awful brave, mr. king." "thank you, prince robin. may i--" he glanced uneasily at the distant nurse--"may i ask how your aunt loraine is feeling?" "she acted very funny when i sent for you. i'm worried about her." "what did she do, your highness?" "she rushed off to her room. i think, mr. king, she was getting ready to cry or something. you see, she's in trouble." "in trouble?" "yes. i can't tell you about it." "she's worried about her brother, of course--and you." "i just wish i could tell you--no, i won't. it wouldn't be fair," bobby said, checking himself resolutely. "she's awful proud of you. i'm sure she likes you, mr. king." "i'm very, very glad to hear that." bobby had great difficulty in keeping his most secret impressions to himself. in fact, he floundered painfully in an attack on diplomacy. "you should have seen her when uncle caspar came in to say you were going off to find her brother. she cried. yes, sir, she did. she kissed me and--but you don't like to hear silly things about girls, do you? great big men never do." "i've heard enough to make me want to do something very silly myself," said truxton, radiant. "i--i don't suppose i could--er--see your aunt loraine for a few minutes?" "i think not. she said she just--now, you mustn't mind her, mr. king--she just couldn't bear it, that's all. she told me to say she'd pray for you and--oh, mr. king, i do hope she won't marry that other man!" truxton bent his knee. "your highness, as it seems i am not to see her, and as you seem to be the very best friend i have, i should very much like to ask a great favour of you. will you take this old ring of mine and wish it on her finger just as soon as i have left your presence?" "how did you know she was coming in again?" in wide-eyed wonder. "excuse me. i shouldn't ask questions. what shall i wish?" it was the old ring that had come from spantz's shop. the prince promptly hid it beneath the pillow. "i'll leave that to you, my best of friends." "i bet it'll be a good wish, all right. i know what to wish." "i believe you do. would you mind giving her something else from me?" he hesitated before venturing the second request. then, overswept by a warm, sweet impulse, he stepped forward, took the boy's face between his eager hands, and pressed a kiss upon his forehead. "give her that for me, will you, prince robin goodfellow." bobby beamed. "but i never kiss her _there!_" "i shall be ten thousand times obliged, your highness, if you will deliver it in the usual place." "i'll do it!" almost shouted the prince. then he clapped his hand over his mouth and looked, pop-eyed with apprehension, toward the nurse. "then, good-bye and god bless you," said truxton. "i must be off. your uncle jack is waiting for me, up there in the hills." bobby's eyes filled with tears. "oh, mr. king, please give him my love and make him hurry back. i--i need him awful!" truxton found mr. hobbs in a state bordering on collapse. "i say, mr. king, it's all right to say we'll go, but how the deuce are we to do it? my word, there's no more chance of getting out of the--" "listen, hobbs: we're going to swim out," said truxton. he was engaged in stuffing food into a knapsack. colonel quinnox and haddan had been listening to hobbs's lamentations for half an hour, in king's room. "swim? oh, i say! by hokey, he's gone clean daffy!" hobbs was eyeing him with alarm. the others looked hard at the speaker, scenting a joke. "not yet, hobbs. later on, perhaps. i had occasion to make a short tour of investigation this afternoon. doubtless, gentlemen, you know where the water-gate is, back of the castle. well, i've looked it over--and under, i might say. hobbs, you and i will sneak under those slippery old gates like a couple of eels. i forgot to ask if you can swim." "to be sure i can. _under_ the gates? my word!" "simple as rolling off a log," said truxton carelessly. "the cascades and basin of venus run out through the gate. there is a space of at least a foot below the bottom of the gate, which hasn't been opened in fifty years, i'm told. a good swimmer can wriggle through, d'ye see? that lets him out into the little canal that connects with the river. then--" "i see!" cried quinnox. "it can be done! no one will be watching at that point." the sky was overcast, the night as black as ebony. the four men left the officers' quarters at one o'clock, making their way to the historic old gate in the glen below the castle. arriving at the wall, truxton briefly whispered his plans. "you remember, colonel quinnox, that the stream is four or five feet deep here at the gate. the current has washed a deeper channel under the iron-bound timbers. the gates are perhaps two feet thick. for something like seven or eight feet from the bottom they are so constructed that the water runs through an open network of great iron bars. now, hobbs and i will go under the gates in the old-clothes you have given us. when we are on the opposite side we'll stick close by the gate, and you may pass our dry clothes out between the bars above the surface of the water. our guns, the map and the food, as well. it's very simple. then we'll drop down the canal a short distance and change our clothes in the underbrush. hobbs knows where we can procure horses and he knows a trusty guide on the other side of the city. so long, colonel. i'll see you later." "god be with you," said quinnox fervently. the four men shook hands and king slipped into the water without a moment's hesitation. "right after me, hobbs," he said, and then his head went under. a minute later he and hobbs were on the outside of the gate, gasping for breath. standing in water to their necks, quinnox and haddan passed the equipment through the barred openings. there were whispered good-byes and then two invisible heads bobbed off in the night, wading in the swift-flowing canal, up to their chins. swimming would have been dangerous, on account of the noise. holding their belongings high above their heads, with their hearts in their mouths, king and the englishman felt their way carefully along the bed of the stream. not a sound was to be heard, except the barking of dogs in the distance. the stillness of death hung over the land. so still, that the almost imperceptible sounds they made in breathing and moving seemed like great volumes of noise in their tense ears. a hundred yards from the gate they crawled ashore and made their way up over the steep bank into the thick, wild underbrush. not a word had been spoken up to this time. "quietly now, hobbs. let us get out of these duds. 'gad, they're like ice. from now on, hobbs, you lead the way. i'll do my customary act of following." hobbs was shivering from the cold. "i say, mr. king, you're a wonder, that's wot you are. think of going under those bally gates!" "that's right, hobbs, think of it, but don't talk." they stealthily stripped themselves of the wet garments, and, after no end of trouble, succeeded in getting into the dry substitutes. then they lowered the wet bundles into the water and quietly stole off through the brush, hobbs in the lead, intent upon striking the king's highway, a mile or two above town. it was slow, arduous going, because of the extreme caution required. a wide detour was made by the canny hobbs--wider, in fact, than the impatient american thought wholly necessary. in time, however, they came to the highway. "well, we've got a start, hobbs. we'll win out, just as i said we would. easy as falling off a log." "i'm not so blooming sure of that," said hobbs. he was recalling a recent flight along this very road. "we're a long way from being out of the woods." "don't be a kill-joy, hobbs. look at the bright side of things." "i'll do that in the morning, when the sun's up," said hobbs, with a sigh. "come along, sir. we take this path here for the upper road. it's a good two hours' walk up the mountain to rabot's, where we get the horses." all the way up the black, narrow mountain path hobbs kept the lead. king followed, his thoughts divided between the blackness ahead and the single, steady light in a certain window now far behind. he had seen the lighted window in the upper balcony as he passed the castle on the way to the gate. somehow he knew she was there saying good-bye and godspeed to him. at four o'clock, as the sun reached up with his long, red fingers from behind the monastery mountain, truxton king and hobbs rode away from rabot's cottage high in the hills, refreshed and sound of heart. rabot's son rode with them, a sturdy, loyal lad, who had leaped joyously at the chance to serve his prince. undisturbed, they rode straight for the passes below st. valentine's. behind and below them lay the sleeping, restless, unhappy city of edelweiss, with closed gates and unfriendly, sullen walls. there reigned the darkest fiend that graustark, in all her history, had ever come to know. truxton king had slipped through his fingers with almost ridiculous ease. so simple had it been, that the two messengers, gloating in the prospect ahead, now spoke of the experience as if it were the most trivial thing in their lives. they mentioned it casually; that was all. now, let us turn to john tullis and his quest in the hills. it goes without saying that he found no trace of his sister or her abductors. for five days he scoured the lonely, mysterious mountains, dragging the tired but loyal hundred about at his heels, distracted by fear and anguish over the possible fate of the adored one. on the fifth day, a large force of dawsbergen soldiers, led by prince dantan himself, found the fagged, disspirited american and his half-starved men encamped in a rocky defile in the heart of the wilderness. that same night a graustark mountaineer passed the sentinels and brought news of the disturbance in edelweiss. he could give no details. he only knew that there had been serious rioting in the streets and that the gates were closed against all comers. he could not tell whether the rioters--most of whom he took to be strikers, had been subdued or whether mob-law prevailed. he had been asked to cast his lot with the strikers, but had refused. for this he was driven away from his home, which was burned. his wife and child were now at the monastery, where many persons had taken refuge. in a flash it occurred to john tullis that marlanx was at the bottom of this deviltry. the abduction of loraine was a part of his plan! prince dantan advised a speedy return to the city. his men were at the command of the american. moreover, the prince himself decided to accompany the troops. before sunrise, the command, now five or six hundred strong, was picking its way down the dangerous mountain roads toward the main highway. fifteen miles below edelweiss they came upon the company of soldiers sent out to preserve order in the railroad camps. the officer in charge exhibited a document, given under the hand and seal of baron dangloss, directing him to remain in command of the camps until the strikers, who were unruly, could be induced to resume work once more. this order, of course, was a forgery, designed to mislead the little force until marlanx saw fit to expose his hand to the world. it had come by messenger on the very day of the rioting. the messenger brought the casual word that the government was arresting and punishing the lawless, and that complete order would hardly be established for several days at the outside. he went so far as to admit that an attempt on the life of the prince had failed. other reports had come to the camps, and all had been to the effect that the rioting was over. the strikers, it seemed, were coming to terms with their employers and would soon take up the work of construction once more. all this sufficed to keep the real situation from reaching the notice of the young captain; he was obeying orders and awaiting the return of the workmen. the relief that swept into the souls of the newly arrived company was short-lived. they had gone into camp, tired, sore and hungry, and were preparing to take a long needed rest before taking up the last stage of their march toward the city. john tullis was now in feverish haste to reach the city, where at least he might find a communication from the miscreants, demanding ransom. he had made up his mind to pay whatever they asked. down in his heart, however, there was a restless fear that she had not fallen into the hands of ordinary bandits. he could not banish the sickening dread that she was in the power of marlanx, to whom she alone could pay the ransom exacted. hardly had the men thrown themselves from their horses when the sound of shooting in the distance struck their ears. instantly the entire force was alert. a dozen shots were fired in rapid succession; then single reports far apart. the steady beat of horses' feet was now plain to the attentive company. there was a quick, incisive call to arms; a squad stood ready for action. the clatter of hoofs drew nearer; a small group of horsemen came thundering down the defile. three minutes after the firing was first heard, sentries threw their rifles to their shoulders and blocked the approach of the riders. a wild, glad shout went up from the foremost horseman. he had pulled his beast to its haunches almost at the muzzles of the guns. "tullis!" he shouted, waving his hat. john tullis ran toward the excited group in the road. he saw three men, one of whom was shouting his name with all the power in his lungs. "thank god, we've found you!" cried the horseman, swinging to the ground despite the proximity of strange rifles. "put up your guns! we're friends!" "king!" exclaimed tullis, suddenly recognising him. a moment later they were clasping hands. "this is luck! we find you almost as soon as we set out to do so. glory be! you've got a fair-sized army, too. we'll need 'em--and more." "what has happened, king? where have you been? we looked for you after your disap--" "that's ancient history," interrupted the other. "how soon can you get these troops on the march? there's not a moment to be lost." "good god, man, tell me what it is--what has happened? the prince? what of him?" cried tullis, grasping king's arm in the clutch of a vise. "he sends his love and rescinds the order of exile," said king, smiling. then seriously: "marlanx has taken the city. it was all a game, this getting rid of you. he's superstitious about americans. there was bomb-throwing in the square and a massacre afterward. the prince and all the others are besieged in the castle. i'll tell you all about it. hobbs and i are the only men who have got away from the castle alive. we left last night. our object was to warn you in time to prevent an ambush. you've got to save the throne for prince robin. i'll explain as we go along. i may as well inform you right now that there's a big force of men waiting for you in the ravine this side of the monastery. we saw them. thank god, we got to you in time. you can now take 'em by surprise and--whiff! they'll run like dogs. back here a couple of miles we came upon a small gang of real robbers. we had a bit of shooting and--i regret to say--no one was bagged. i'd advise you to have this force pushed along as rapidly as possible. i have a message from your sister, sir." "loraine? where is she, king?" "don't tremble like that, old man. she's safe enough--in the castle. oh, it was a fine game marlanx had in his mind." while the troopers were making ready for the march, truxton king and hobbs related their story to eager, horrified groups of officers. it may be well to say that neither said more of his own exploits than was absolutely necessary to connect the series of incidents. prince dantan marvelled anew at this fresh demonstration of yankee courage and ingenuity. king graphically narrated the tale from beginning to end. the full force of the amazing tragedy was brought home to the pale, half-dazed listeners. there were groans and curses and bitter cries of vengeance. john tullis was crushed; despair was written in his face, anguish in his eyes. what was to become of the prince? "first of all, tullis, we must destroy these scoundrels who are lying in wait for you in the ravine," said prince dantan. "after that you can be in a position to breathe easily while collecting the army of fighters that mr. king suggests. surely, you will be able to raise a large and determined force. my men are at prince robin's disposal. captain haas may command them as his own. i deplore the fact that i may not call upon the entire dawsbergen army. marlanx evidently knows our laws. our army cannot go to the aid of a neighbor. we have done so twice in half a century and our people have been obliged to pay enormous indemnity. but there are men here. i am here. we will not turn back, mr. tullis. my people will not hold me at fault for taking a hand in this. i shall send messengers to the princess; she, of course, must know." the battalion, augmented by the misguided company from the deserted railroad camps, moved swiftly into the defile, led by young rabot. truxton king rode beside the brother of the girl he loved, uttering words of cheer and encouragement. "king, you _do_ put new courage into me. you are surcharged with hope and confidence. by heaven, i believe we can drive out that damned beast and his dogs. we _will_ do it!" "there's a chap named brutus. i ask special permission to kill him. that's the only request i have to make." "i very strongly oppose the appeal to grand duke paulus. we must act decisively before that alternative is forced upon the unhappy halfont. it was perse's scheme, months ago. perse! confound him, i believe he has worked all along to aid--" "hold on, tullis," interrupted king soberly. "i wouldn't say that if i were you. the duke was wounded by the dynamiters and i understand he lies on his bed and curses marlanx from morning till night. he prays constantly that his daughter may be freed from the old scoundrel." "the countess ingomede--has anything been heard from her?" asked tullis. he had been thinking of her for days--and nights. "well, nothing definite," said king evasively. he was reminded at this moment of his own love affair. seized by the boldest impulse that had ever come to him, he suddenly blurted out: "tullis, i love your sister. i have loved her from the beginning. all that has happened in the last week has strengthened my adoration. i think she cares for me, but,--but--" "my dear mr. king, i'm sorry--" began tullis, genuinely surprised. "but it seems that she's promised to marry vos engo. i'll tell you how it happened." then he related the episode of the rout in castle avenue. "it's all wrong for her to marry that chap. if she hasn't been bullied into it before we get back to her, i'd like to know if you won't put a stop to his damned impudence. what right has such a fellow as vos engo to a good american girl like loraine? none whatever. besides, i'm going to fight him when we're through fighting marlanx. i want you as my second. can't say whether it will be swords, pistols or knuckles. i hope you'll oblige me. as a matter of fact, i had two primary objects in looking you up out here in the hills. first, to ask you for loraine; second, to engage you as my second." tullis was silent for a while. then he said, quite seriously: "king, i have looked with some favour upon vos engo. i thought she liked him. he isn't a bad fellow, believe me. i want loraine to be happy. as for this promise to him, i'll talk that over with her--if god permits me to see her again i shall allow her to choose, king. you or vos engo--the one she loves, that's all. as for seconding you, i am at your service." king beamed. "that means, i take it, that you want me to win at least one of the contests. well," with his whimsical, irresistible smile, "it won't be necessary to try for the other if vos engo shoots me in this one." "you will never know the extent of my gratitude, king. you have saved her from a hellish fate. i shall be disappointed in her if she does not choose you. i owe you a debt of gratitude almost as great for saving that dear little boy of--ours. i shall not forget what you have done--never!" early in the afternoon the force under captain haas was divided into three companies, for strategic purposes. the plan to surprise and defeat the skulkers in the ravine had been carefully thought out. two strong companies struck off into the hills; the third and weakest of the trio kept the road, apparently marching straight into the trap. signals had been arranged. at a given sign the three parties were to swoop down upon the position held by the enemy. several hours passed. the troop in the highroad prepared to camp just below the treacherous pass in which the ambush was known to be laid. scouts had located the confident rascals in the ravines above the highway. with the news that their prey was approaching, they were being rapidly rushed into position at the head of the pass. shortly before sunset the troop in the road began to advance, riding resolutely into the ravine. even as the gloating, excited desperadoes prepared to open fire from their hidden position at the head of the pass, their pickets came running in with the word that two large forces were drawing in on them from the north and east. the trappers were trapped. they realised that they had been out-generalled, and they understood their deficiencies. not a man among them knew the finer points of warfare. they were thugs and roustabouts and ill-omened fellows who could stab in the back; they were craven in the face of an open peril. there were few shots fired. the men in ambuscade tried to escape to the fastnesses of the hills. some of them stood ground and fought, only to be mown down by the enemy; others were surrounded and made captive; but few actually succeeded in evading the troopers. all were ready to sue for mercy and to proclaim their willingness to divert allegiance from dictator to crown. herded like so many cattle, guarded like wolves, they were driven city-ward, few if any of them exhibiting the slightest symptom of regret or discomfiture. in fact, they seemed more than philosophic: they were most jovial. these were soldiers of fortune, in the plainest sense. it mattered little with whom they were allied or against whom they fought, so long as the pay was adequate and prompt. indeed, the leaders of the party--officers by grace of lucky tosses--benignly proffered the services of themselves and men in the movement to displace count marlanx! "he cannot hold out," said the evil-faced captain in cool derision. "he cannot keep his promises to us. so why should we cut our own throats? all we ask is transportation to austria after the job's over. that's where most of us came from, your excellencies. count on us, if you need us. down with marlanx!" "long live prince--" three-fourths of them stopped there because they did not even know the name of the little ruler. chapter xxi the return from the highlands below the monastery, captain haas and his men were able to study the situation in the city. the impracticability of an assault on any one of the stubborn, well-guarded gates was at once recognised. a force of seven hundred men, no matter how well trained or determined, could not be expected to surmount walls that had often withstood the attack of as many thousands. the wisdom of delaying until a few thousand loyal, though poorly armed countrymen could be brought into play against the city appealed at once to prince dantan and john tullis. withdrawing to an unexposed cut in the hills, safe from the shells that might be thrown up from the fortress, they established their camps, strongly entrenched and practically invulnerable against any attack from below. squads of men were sent without delay into the hills and valleys to call the panic-stricken, wavering farmers into the fold. john tullis headed the company that struck off into the well-populated ganlook district. marlanx, as if realising the nature of the movement in the hills, began a furious assault on the gates leading to the castle. the watchers in the hills could see as well as hear the conflict that raged almost at their feet, so to speak. they cheered like mad when the motley army of the usurper was frustrated in the attempt to take the main gates. from the walls about the park, quinnox's men, few as they were, sent such deadly volleys into the streets below that the hordes fell back and found shelter behind the homes of the rich. with half an eye, one could see that the rascals were looting the palaces, secure from any opposition on the part of the government forces; through the glasses, scattered crowds of men could be seen carrying articles from the houses; more than one of the mansions went up in flames as the day grew old and the lust of the pillagers increased. the next morning, captain haas announced to his followers that marlanx had begun to shell the castle. big guns in the fortress were hurling great shells over the city, dropping them in the park. on the other hand, colonel quinnox during the night had swung three gatling guns to the top of the wall; they were stationed at intervals along the wall, commanding every point from which an assault might be expected. it was a well-known fact that there was no heavy ordnance at the castle. all day long, marlanx's men, stationed in the upper stories of houses close to the walls, kept up a constant rifle fire, their bullets being directed against the distant windows of the castle. that this desultory fusillade met with scant response at the hands of quinnox, was quite apparent to the uneasy, champing watchers near the monastery. "marlanx will not begin the actual bombardment until he knows that tullis is drawing together a formidable force," prophesied prince dantan. "but when he does begin the real shelling," mourned truxton king, chafing like a lion under the deadly inaction. "i can't bear the thought of what it means to those inside the castle. he can blow it to pieces over their heads. then, from the house tops, he can pick them off like blackbirds. it's awful! is there nothing that we can do, prince? damn it all, i know we can force a gate. and if we once get in where those cowardly dogs are lording it, you'll see 'em take the walls like steeple-chasers." "my dear mr. king," said prince dantan calmly, "you don't know colonel quinnox and the house guard. the quinnoxs have guarded graustark's rulers for i don't know how many generations. history does not go back so far, i fear. you may depend on it, there will be no living guardsmen inside those walls when marlanx lays his hands on the prince." that night recruits from the farms and villages began to straggle into the camp. they were armed with rifles, ordinary shotguns and antique "blunderbusses;" swords, staves and aged lances. all were willing to die in the service of the little prince; all they needed was a determined, capable leader to rally them from the state of utter panic. they reported that the crown foragers might expect cheerful and plenteous tribute from the farmers and stock growers. only the mountaineers were hostile. the army now grew with astonishing rapidity. the recruits were not fighting men in a military sense, but their hearts were true and they hungered for the chance to stamp out the evil that lay at their feet. by the close of the second day nearly three thousand men were encamped above the city. late that night john tullis rode into camp at the head of a great company from the ganlook province. he had retaken the town of ganlook, seized the fortress, and recruited the entire fighting strength of the neighbourhood. more than that, he had unlimbered and conveyed to the provisional camp two of the big guns that stood above the gates at the fortress. there had been a dozen skirmishes between the regulars and roving bands of desperadoes. a savage fight took place at ganlook and another in the gap below the witch's hut. in both of these sanguinary affrays the government forces had come off victorious, splendid omens that did not fail to put confidence into the hearts of the men. marlanx trained two of his big guns on the camp in the hills. from the fortress he threw many futile shells toward their place of shelter. they did no damage; instead of death, they brought only laughter to the scornful camp. under cover of night, the two ganlook cannons were planted in a position commanding the southeastern city gate. it was the plan of the new besiegers to bombard this gate, tearing it to pieces with shot. when their force was strong enough offensively, an assault would be flung against this opening. drill and discipline were necessary, however, before the attempt could be made. in the present chaotic, untrained condition of their forces, an assault would prove not only ineffectual, but disastrous. day after day the recruits were put through hard drill under the direction of the regular officers. every day saw the force increased. this made hard work for the drill-masters. the willingness of the recruits, however, lessened the task considerably. the knowledge that marlanx had no big guns except those stationed in the fortress was most consoling to tullis and his friends. he could not destroy the castle gates with shells, except by purest chance. he could drop shells into the castle, but to hit a gate twenty feet wide? never! field ordnance was unknown to this country of mountains. the iron count's inability to destroy the castle gates made it feasible for the men in the hills to devote considerable more time to drill and preparation than they might have sacrificed if the conditions were the reverse. they were confident that quinnox could hold the castle for many days. with all this in mind, captain haas and prince dantan beat down the objections of the impatient americans; the work of preparation against ignominous failure went on as rapidly as possible. haas would not attack until he was ready, or it became absolutely certain that the men at the castle were in dire need. signalling between the castle and the hills had been going on for days. the absence of the "wigwag" system made it impossible to convey intelligible messages. truxton king was growing haggard from worry and loss of sleep. he could not understand the abominable, criminal procrastination. he was of a race that did things with a dash and on the spur of the moment. his soul sickened day by day. john tullis, equally unhappy, but more philosophical, often found him seated upon a rock at the top of the ravine, an unlighted pipe in his fingers, his eyes intent upon the hazy castle. "cheer up, king. our time will come," he was wont to say. "i've just got to do something, tullis. this standing around is killing me." again he would respond: "don't forget that i love some one down there, old man. maybe she's worrying about me, as well as about you." once he gave poor mr. hobbs a frightful tongue-lashing and was afterward most contrite and apologetic. poor hobbs had been guilty of asking if he had a headache. truxton was assigned to several scouting expeditions, simply to provide him with action and diverting excitement. one of these expeditions determined the impossibility of entering the city through the railroad yards because of the trestle-work and the barricade of freight cars at the gap in the wall. they had been in camp for a week. the stategists had practically decided that the assault could be made within a day or two. all was in readiness--or as near as it could be--and all was enthusiasm and excitement. "if haas puts it off another day i'm going to start a round robin, whatever that is," said truxton. as he said it to a dawsbergen officer who could not understand english, it is doubtful if that gentleman's polite nod of acquiescence meant unqualified approval of the project. at first they had built no fires at night. now the force was so formidable that this precaution was unnecessary. the air was chill and there were tents for but a few of the troopers. the fires in the ravine always were surrounded by great circles of men, eagerly discussing the coming battle. at the upper end of the ravine were the tents of the officers, prince dantan and john tullis. the latter shared his with king and mr. hobbs. up here, the circle about the kindly pile of burning logs was small, select and less demonstrative. here they smoked in silence most of the time, each man's thoughts delivered to himself. above, on the jutting rock, sat the disconsolate, lovesick truxton. it was the night before the proposed assault on the gates. the guns were in position and the cannonading was to begin at daybreak. he was full of the bitterness of doubt and misgiving. was she in love with vos engo? was the count's suit progressing favourably under the fire of the enemy? was his undoubted bravery having its effect upon the wavering susceptibilities of the distressed loraine? here was he, truxton king, idle and useless for more than a week, beyond range of the guns of the foe, while down there was vos engo in the thick of it, at the side of the girl he loved in those long hours of peril, able to comfort her, to cheer her, to fight for her. it was maddening. he was sick with uncertainty, consumed by jealousy. his pipe was not out now: he was smoking furiously. the sound of a voice in sharp command attracted his attention. one of the sentries in the road below the elbow of the ridge had stopped some one who was approaching the camp. there was a bright moon, and truxton could see other pickets hurrying to join the first. a few moments later the trespassers were escorted through the lines and taken directly to headquarters. a man and two women, king observed. somewhat interested, he sauntered down from his lonely boulder and joined the group of officers. john tullis was staring hard at the group approaching from the roadway. they were still outside the circle of light, but it was plain to all that the newcomers were peasants. the women wore the short red skirts and the pointed bonnets of the lower classes. gaudy shawls covered their shoulders. one was tall and slender, with a bearing that was not peasant-like. it was she who held tullis's intense, unbelieving gaze until they were well inside the fire-light. she walked ahead of her companions. suddenly he sprang forward with a cry of amazement. it was the countess ingomede. her arrival created a sensation. in a moment she was in the centre of an amazed circle of men. tullis, after his first low, eager greeting at the edge of the fire circle, drew her near to the warmth-giving flames. prince dantan and captain haas threw rugs and blankets in a great heap for her to sit upon. every one was talking at once. the countess was smiling through her tears. "make room for my maid and her father. they are colder and more fatigued than i," she said, lifting her tired, glorious eyes to john tullis, who stood beside her. "we have come from balak. they suffered much, that i might enjoy the slender comforts i was so ready to share with them." "thank god, you are here," he said in low, intense tones. she could not mistake the fervour in his voice nor the glow in his eyes. her wondrous, yellowish orbs looked steadily into his, and he was satisfied. they paid tribute to the emotion that moved him to the depths of his being. love leaped up to him from those sweet, tired eyes; leaped with the unerring force of an electric current that finds its lodestone in spite of mortal will. "i knew you were here, john. i am not going back to count marlanx. it is ended." "i knew it would come, ingomede. you will let me tell you how glad i am--some day?" "some day, when i am truly, wholly free from him, john. i know what you will say, and i think you know what i shall say in reply." both understood and were exalted. no other word passed between them touching upon the thing that was uppermost in their minds. food was provided for the wayfarers, and tullis's tent was made ready for the countess and her maid. "truxton," said he, "we will have to find other quarters for the night. i've let my apartment--furnished." "she's gloriously beautiful, john," was all that truxton said, puffing moodily at his pipe. he was thinking of one more beautiful, however. "i suppose you'd think it a favour if i'd pot marlanx for you to-morrow." "it doesn't matter whether he's potted or not, my friend. she will not go back to him. he will have to find another prisoner for his household." truxton's thoughts went with a shudder to the underground room and the fair prisoner who had shared it with him. the dread of what might have been the fate of loraine tullis--or what might still be in store for her--brought cold chills over him. he abruptly turned away and sat down at the outer edge of the group. the countess's story was soon told. sitting before the great fire, surrounded by eager listeners, she related her experiences. prince dantan was her most attentive listener. she had been seized on the night of the ball as she started across her father's garden. before sunrise she was well on her way to balak, in charge of three of the count's most faithful henchmen. as for the messages that were sent to edelweiss, she knew nothing of them, except the last, which she had managed to get through with the assistance of josepha's father. she was kept a close prisoner in a house just outside of balak, and came to learn all of the infamous projects of her husband. at the end of ten days her maid was sent to her from edelweiss. she brought the news of the calamity that had befallen the city. it was then that she determined to break away from her captors and try to reach the monastery of st. valentine, where protection would be afforded her for the time being. after several days of ardent persuasion, she and josepha prevailed upon the latter's father to assist them in their flight. not only was he persuaded, but in the end he journeyed with them through the wildest country north of ganlook. they were four days in covering the distance, partly on foot, partly by horse. near the city they heard of the presence of troops near the monastery. farmers' wives told them of the newly formed army and of its leaders. she determined to make her way to the camp of those who would destroy her husband, eager to give them any assistance that her own knowledge of marlanx's plans might provide. many details are omitted in this brief recital of her story. perhaps it is well to leave something to the imagination. one bit of information she gave created no end of consternation among the would-be deliverers of the city. it had the effect of making them all the more resolute; the absolute necessity for immediately regaining control in the city was forced upon them. she told them that count marlanx had lately received word that the grand duke paulus was likely to intervene before many days, acting on his own initiative, in the belief that he could force the government of graustark to grant the railway privileges so much desired by his country. marlanx realised that he would have to forestall the wily grand duke. if he were in absolute control of the graustark government when the russian appeared, he and he alone would be in a position to deal with the situation. unless the castle fell into his hands beforehand, insuring the fall of the royal house and the ministry, the grand duke's natural inclination would be to first befriend the hapless prince and then to demand recompense in whatsoever form he saw fit. "the grand duke may send a large force of men across the border at any time," said the countess in conclusion. "count marlanx is sure to make a decisive assault as soon as he hears that the movement has begun. he had hopes of starving them out, thus saving the castle from destruction, but as that seems unlikely, his shells will soon begin to rain in earnest upon the dear old pile." truxton king was listening with wide open ears. as she finished this dreary prediction he silently arose to his feet and, without a word to any one, stalked off in the darkness. tullis looked after him and shook his head sadly. "i'll be happy on that fellow's account when daybreak comes and we are really at it," he said to prince dantan, who knew something of king's affliction. but truxton king was not there at daybreak. when he strode out of the camp that night, he left it behind forever. the unfortunate lack of means to communicate with the occupants of the castle had been the source of great distress to captain haas. if the defenders could be informed as to the exact hour of the assault from the outside, they could do much toward its speedy success by making a fierce sortie from behind their own walls. a quick dash from the castle grounds would serve to draw marlanx's attention in that direction, diminishing the force that he would send to check the onslaught at the gates. but there was no means of getting word to colonel quinnox. his two or three hundred men would be practically useless at the most critical period of the demonstration. truxton king had all this in mind as he swung off down the mountain road, having stolen past the sentries with comparative ease. he was smiling to himself. if all went well with him, colonel quinnox would be able to rise to the occasion. if he failed in the daring mission he had elected to perform, the only resulting harm would be to himself; the plans of the besiegers would not suffer. he knew his ground well by this time. he had studied it thoroughly from the forlorn boulder at the top of the ravine. by skirting the upper walls, on the mountain side, he might, in a reasonably short space of time, reach the low woodlands north of the castle walls. the danger from marlanx's scouts outside the city was not great; they had been scattered and beaten by haas's recruiting parties. he stood in more danger from the men he would help, they who were the watchful defenders of the castle. it must have been two o'clock when he crossed the king's highway, a mile or more above the northern gates, and struck down into the same thick undergrowth that had protected him and hobbs on a memorable night not long before. at three o'clock, a dripping figure threw up his hands obligingly and laughed with exultation when confronted by a startled guardsman _inside_ the castle walls and not more than fifty yards from the water gates! he had timed his entrance by the sound of the guardsman's footstep on the stone protecting wall that lined the little stream. when he came to the surface inside the water gate, the sentry was at the extreme end of his beat. he shouted a friendly cry as he advanced toward the man, calling out his own name. ten minutes later he was standing in the presence of the haggard, nerve-racked quinnox, pouring into his astonished ears the news of the coming attack. while he was discarding his wet clothing for others, preparations for the sortie were getting under way. the colonel lost no time in routing out the sleeping guardsmen and reserves, and in sending commands to those already on duty at the gates. the quick rattle of arms, the rush of feet, the low cries of relief, the rousing of horses, soon usurped the place of dreary, deadly calm. when the sun peeped over the lofty hills, he saw inside the gates a restless, waiting company of dragoons, ready for the command to ride forth. worn, haggard fellows, who had slept but little and who had eaten scarcely anything for three days; men who would have starved to death. now they were forgetting their hunger and fatigue in the wild, exultant joy of the prospect ahead. meantime, king had crossed the grounds with colonel quinnox, on the way to the castle. he was amazed, almost stupefied by the devastation that already had been wrought. trees were down; great, gaping holes in the ground marked the spots where shells had fallen; the plaza was an almost impassable heap of masonry and soil, torn and rent by huge projectiles. but it was his first clear view of the castle itself that appalled the american. a dozen or more balls had crashed into the façade. yawning fissures, gigantic holes, marked the path of the ugly messengers from marlanx. nearly all of the windows had been wrecked by riflemen who shot from the roofs of palaces in and about the avenue. two of the smaller minarets were in ruins; a huge pillar in the lower balcony was gone; the terrace had been ploughed up by a single ricochetting shell. "great god!" gasped king. "it is frightful!" "they began bombarding yesterday afternoon. we were asked to surrender at three o'clock. our reply brought the shells, mr. king. it was terrible." "and the loss of life, colonel?" demanded the other breathlessly. "after the first two or three shells we found places of shelter for the prince and his friends. they are in the stone tower beyond the castle, overlooking what still remains of the ancient moat. ah, there are no faltering hearts here, mr. king. the most glorious courage instead. count vos engo guards the prince and the ladies of the household. alas! it was hunger that we feared the most. to-day we should have resorted to horse's flesh. there was no other way. we knew that relief would come some day. john tullis was there. we had faith in him and in you. and now it is to-day! this shall be our day, thank god! nothing can stand before us!" "tullis is very anxious about his sister," ventured truxton. quinnox looked straight ahead, but smiled. "she is the pluckiest of them all." "is she well?" "perhaps a trifle thin, sir, that is all. i dare say that is due to scarcity of nourishment, although the prince and his closest associates were the last to feel deprivation." "how does the prince take all this, colonel?" "as any prince of graustark would, sir. there is no other way. it is in the blood." "poor little chap!" "he will rejoice to know that you have found his lucky stone so effective. the prince has never wavered in his loyalty to that pebble, sir." together they entered the castle. inside there were horrid signs of destruction, particularly off the balconies. "no one occupies the upper part of the castle now, sir." attendants sped to the tower, shouting the battle tidings. no compunction was felt in arousing the sleeping household. as a matter of fact, there was no protest from the eager ladies and gentlemen who hurried forth to hear the news. the prince came tumbling down the narrow iron stairs from his room above, shouting joyously to truxton king. no man was ever so welcome. he was besieged with questions, handshakings and praises. even the duke of perse, hobbling on crutches, had a kindly greeting for him. tears streamed down the old man's cheeks when king told him of his daughter's safe arrival in the friendly camp. truxton picked the prince up in his arms and held him close to his breast, patting his back all the while, his heart so full that he could not speak. "i knowed you'd come back," bobby kept crying in his ear. "aunt loraine said you wouldn't, but i said you would. i knowed it--i knowed it! and now you're going to be a baron, sure enough. isn't he, uncle caspar?" but truxton was not listening to the eager prattle. he remembered afterward that bobby's hands and face were hot with fever. just now he was staring at the narrow staircase. vos engo and loraine were descending slowly. the former was white and evidently very weak. he leaned on the girl for support. count halfont offered the explanation. "vos engo was shot last week, through the shoulder. he is too brave to give up, as you may see. it happened on the terrace. there was an unexpected fusilade from the housetops. eric placed himself between the marksmen and miss tullis. a bullet that might have killed her instantly, struck him in the shoulder. they were fleeing to the balcony. he fell and she dragged him to a place of safety. the wound is not so serious as it might have been, but he should be in bed. he, like most of us, has not removed his clothing in five days and nights." king never forgot the look in loraine's eyes as she came down the steps. joy and anguish seemed to combine themselves in that long, intense look. he saw her hand go to her heart. her lips were parted. he knew she was breathing quickly, tremulously. the prince was whispering in his ear: "keep the lucky stone, mr. king. please keep it. it will surely help you. i gave her your kiss. she was happy--awful happy for awhile. 'nen the count he saved her from the bullet. but you just keep the lucky stone." king put him down and walked directly across to meet her at the foot of the steps. she gave him her hands. the look in her tired eyes went straight to his heart. vos engo drew back, his face set in a frown of displeasure. "my brother?" she asked, without taking her gaze from his eyes. "he is well. he will see you to-day." "and you, truxton?" was her next question, low and quavering. "unharmed and unchanged, loraine," he said softly. "tell me, did vos engo stand between you and the fire from the--" "yes, truxton," she said, dropping her eyes as if in deep pain. "and you have not--broken your promise to him?" "no. nor have i broken my promise to you." "he is a brave man. i can't help saying it," said the american, deep lines suddenly appearing in his face. swiftly he turned to vos engo, extending his hand. "my hand, sir, to a brave man!" vos engo stared at him for a moment and then turned away, ignoring the friendly hand. a hot flush mounted to loraine's brow. "this is a brave man, too, eric," she said very quietly. vos engo's response was a short, bitter laugh. chapter xxii the last stand soon after five o'clock, a man in the topmost window of the tower called down that the forces in the hills were moving in a compact body toward the ridges below the southern gates. "give them half an hour to locate themselves," advised truxton king. "they will move rapidly and strike as soon as the shells have levelled the gates. the proper time for your sortie, colonel, would be some time in advance of their final movement. you will in that way draw at least a portion of marlanx's men away from the heart of the city. they will come to the assistance of the gang bivouacked beyond the duke of perse's palace." one hundred picked men were to be left inside the castle gates with vos engo, prepared to meet any flank movement that might be attempted. three hundred mounted men were selected to make the dash down castle avenue, straight into the camp of the sharpshooters. it was the purpose of the house guard to wage a fierce and noisy conflict off the avenue and then retire to the castle as abruptly as they left it, to be ready for marlanx, should he decide to make a final desperate effort to seize their stronghold. king, fired by a rebellious zeal, elected to ride with the attacking party. his heart was cold with the fear that he was to lose loraine, after all. the fairy princess of his dreams seemed farther away from him than ever. "i'll do what i can for the prince," he said to himself. "he's a perfect little brick. damn vos engo! i'll make him repent that insult. every one noticed it, too. she tried to smooth it over, but--oh, well, what's the use!" the dash of the three hundred through the gates and down the avenue was the most spectacular experience in truxton's life. he was up with quinnox and general braze, galloping well in front of the yelling troop. these mounted carbineers, riding as bedouins, swept like thunder down the street, whirled into the broad, open arena beyond the duke's palace, and were upon the surprised ruffians before they were fully awake to the situation. they came tumbling out of barns and sheds, clutching their rifles in nerveless hands, aghast in the face of absolute destruction. it was all over with the first dash of the dragoons. the enemy, craven at the outset, threw down their guns and tried to escape through the alleys and side streets at the end of the common. firing all the time, the attacking force rode them down as if they were so many dogs. the few who stood their ground and fought valiantly were overpowered and made captive by quinnox. less than a hundred men were found in the camp. instead of retreating immediately to the castle, quinnox, acting on the suggestion of the exhilarated king, kept up a fierce, deceptive fire for the benefit of the distant marlanx. after ten or fifteen minutes of this desultory carnage, it was reported that a large force of men were entering the avenue from regengetz circus. quinnox sent his chargers toward this great horde of foot-soldiers, but they did not falter as he had expected. on they swept, two or three thousand of them. at their head rode five or six officers. the foremost was count marlanx. the cannons were booming now in the foothills. marlanx, if he heard them and realised what the bombardment meant, did not swerve from the purpose at present in his mind. quinnox saw now that the iron count was determined to storm the gates, and gave the command to retreat. waving their rifles and shouting defiance over their shoulders, the dragoons drew up, wheeled and galloped toward the gates. truxton king afterward recalled to mind certain huge piles of fresh earth in a corner of the common. he did not know what they meant at the time of observation, but he was wiser inside of three minutes after the whirlwind brigade dashed through the gates. scarcely were the massive portals closed and the great steel bars dropped into place by the men who attended them, when a low, dull explosion shook the earth as if by volcanic force. then came the crashing of timbers, the cracking of masonry, the whirring of a thousand missiles through the air. before the very eyes of the stunned, bewildered defenders, dismounting near the parade ground, the huge gates and pillars fell to the ground. the gates have been dynamited! then it was that truxton king remembered. marlanx's sappers had been quietly at work for days, drilling from the common to the gates. it was a strange coincidence that marlanx should have chosen this day for his culminating assault on the castle. the skirmish at daybreak had hurried his arrangements, no doubt, but none the less were his plans complete. the explosives had been laid during the night; the fuses reached to the mouth of the tunnel, across the common. as he swept up the avenue at the head of his command, hawk-faced and with glittering eyes, he snarled the command that put fire to the fuses. he was still a quarter of a mile away when the gates crumbled. with short, shrill cries, scarcely human in their viciousness, he urged his men forward. he and brutus were the first to ride up to the great hole that yawned where the gates had stood. beyond they could see the distracted soldiers of the prince forming in line to resist attack. a moment later his vanguard streamed through the aperture and faced the deadly fire from the driveway. like a stone wall the men under quinnox stood their ground; a solid, defiant line that fired with telling accuracy into the struggling horde. on the walls two gatling guns began to cackle their laugh of death. and still the mercenaries poured through the gap, forming in haphazard lines under the direction of the maddened iron count. at last they began to advance across the grassy meadow. when one man fell under the fire of the guardsmen, another rushed into his place. three times the indomitable graustarkians drove them back, and as often did marlanx drag them up again, exalted by the example he set. "'gad, he _is_ a soldier," cried truxton, who had wasted a half dozen shots in the effort to bring him down. "hello! there's my friend brutus. he's no coward, either. here's a try for you, brutus." he dropped to his knee and took deliberate aim at the frenzied henchman. the discovery that there were three bullets in brutus's breast when he was picked up long afterward did not affect the young man's contention that his was the one that had found the heart. the fall of brutus urged the iron count to greater fury. his horse had been shot from under him. he was on his feet, a gaunt demon, his back to the enemy, calling to his men to follow him as he moved toward the stubborn row of green and red. bullets hissed about his ears, but he gave no heed to them. more than one man in the opposing force watched him as if fascinated. he seemed to be absolutely bullet-proof. there were times when he stumbled and almost fell over the bodies of his own men lying in the path. by this time his entire force was inside the grounds. colonel quinnox was quick to see the spreading movement on the extreme right and left. marlanx's captains were trained warriors. they were bent on flanking the enemy. the commander of the guard gave the command to fall back slowly toward the castle. firing at every step, they crossed the parade ground and then made a quick dash for the shelter of the long balconies. they held this position for nearly an hour, resisting each succeeding charge of the now devilish foe. time and again the foremost of the attacking party reached the terrace, only to wither under the deadly fire from behind the balustrades. marlanx, down in the parade ground, was fairly pushing his men into the jaws of death. there was no question as to the courage of the men he commanded. these were not the ruffians from all over the world. they were the reckless, devil-may-care mountaineers and robbers from the hills of graustark itself. truxton king's chance to pay his debt to vos engo came after one of the fiercest, most determined charges. the young count, who had transferred his charges from the old tower to the strong north wing of the castle, had been fighting desperately in the front rank for some time. his weakness seemed to have disappeared entirely. as the foe fell back in the face of the desperate resistance, vos engo sprang down the steps and rushed after them, calling others to join him in the attempt to complete the rout. near the edge of the terrace he stopped. his leg gave way under him and he fell to the ground. truxton saw him fall. he leaped over the low balustrade, dropping his hot rifle, and dashed across the terrace to his rival's assistance. a hundred men shot at him. vos engo was trying to get to his feet, his hand upon his thigh; he was groaning with pain. "it's my turn," shouted the american. "i'll square it up if i can. then we're even!" he seized the wounded man in his strong arms, threw him over his shoulder and staggered toward the steps. "release me, damn you!" shrieked vos engo, striking his rescuer in the face with his fist. "i'm saving you for another day," said king as he dropped behind the balustrade, with his burden safe. a wild cheer went up from the lips of the defenders, scornful howls from the enemy. "i pray god it may be deferred until i am capable of defending myself," groaned vos engo, glaring at the other with implacable hatred in his eyes. "you might pray for my preservation, too, while you're at it," said truxton, as he crept away to regain his rifle. there were other witnesses to truxton's rash act. in a lofty window of the north wing crouched a white-faced girl and a grim old man. the latter held a rifle in his tense though feeble hands. they had been there for ten minutes or longer, watching the battle from their eerie place of security. now and then the old man would sight his rifle and fire. a groan of anger and dismay escaped his lips after each attempt to send his bullet to the spot intended. the girl who crouched beside him was there to designate a certain figure in the ever-changing mass of humanity on the bloody parade ground. her clear eyes sought for and found marlanx; her unwavering finger pointed him out to the old marksman. she saw vos engo fall. then a tall, well-known figure sprang into view, dashing toward her wounded lover. her heart stopped beating. the blood rushed to her eyes. everything before her turned red--a horrid, blurring red. with her hands to her temples, she leaned far over the window ledge and screamed--screamed words that would have filled truxton king with an endless joy could he have heard them above the rattle of the rifles. "a brave act!" exclaimed the old man at her side. "who is he?" but she did not hear him. she had fallen back and was gasping supplication, her eyes set upon the old man's face with a stare that meant nothing. the corner of the building had shut out the picture; it was impossible for her to know that the man and his burden had reached the balcony in safety. even now, they might be lying on the terrace, riddled by bullets. the concentrated aim of the enemy had not escaped her horrified gaze. the cheering did not reach her ears. the old man roused her from the stupor of dread. he called her name several times in high, strident tones. dully she responded. standing bolt upright in the window she sought out the figure of marlanx, and pointed rigidly. "ah," groaned the old man, "they will not be driven back this time! they will not be denied. it is the last charge! god, how they come! our men will be annihilated in--where is he? now! ah, i see! yes, that is he! he is near enough now. i cannot miss him!" marlanx was leading his men up to the terrace. a howling avalanche of humanity, half obscured by smoke, streamed up the slope. at the top of the terrace, the iron count suddenly stopped. his long body stiffened and then crumpled like a reed. a score of heavy feet trampled on the fallen leader, but he did not feel the impact. a bullet from the north wing had crashed into his brain. "at last!" shrieked the old man at the window. "come, miss tullis; my work is done." "he is dead, your grace?" in low, awed tones. "yes, my dear," said the duke of perse, a smile of relief on his face. "come, let me escort you to the prince. you have been most courageous. graustark shall not forget it. nor shall i ever cease thanking you for the service you have rendered to me. i have succeeded in freeing my unhappy daughter from the vile beast to whom i sold her youth and beauty and purity. come! you must not look upon that carnage!" together they left the little room. as they stepped into the narrow hall beyond they realised that the defenders had been driven inside the walls of the castle. the crash of firearms filled the halls far below; a deafening, steady roar came up to them. "it is all over," said the duke of perse, hobbling across the hall and throwing open the door to a room opposite. a group of terrified women were huddled in the far corner of the spacious room. in front of them was the little prince, a look of terror in his eyes, but with the tiny sword clutched in his hand--a pathetic figure of courage and dread combined. the duke of perse held open the door for loraine tullis, but she did not enter. when he turned to call, she was half way down the top flight of stairs, racing through the powder smoke toward the landing below. at every step she was screaming in the very agony of gladness: "stand firm! hold them! help is coming! help is coming!" a last look through the window at the end of the hail had revealed to her the most glorious of visions. red and green troops were pouring through the dismantled gateway, their horses surging over the ugly ground-rifts and debris as if possessed of the fabled wings. she had seen the rear line in the storming forces hesitate and then turn to meet the whirlwind charge of the cavalrymen. her brother was out there and all was well. she was crying the joyous news from the head of the grand stairway when truxton king caught sight of her. smoke writhed about her slim, inspiriting figure. her face shone through the drab fog like an undimmed star of purest light. he bounded up the steps toward her, drawn as by magnet against which there was no such thing as resistance. he was powder-stained and grimy; there was blood on his face and shirt front. "you are shot," she cried, clutching the post at the bend in the stairs. "truxton! truxton!" "not even scratched," he shouted, as he reached her side. "it's not my--" he stopped short, even as he held out his arms to clasp her to his breast. "it's some one else's blood," he finished resolutely. she swayed toward him and he caught her in his arms. "i love you--oh, i love you, truxton!" she cried over and over again. he was faint with joy. his kisses spoke the adoration he would have cried out to her if emotion had not clogged his throat. "eric?" she whispered at last, drawing back in his arms and looking up into his eyes with a great pity in her own. "is he--is he dead, truxton?" "no," he said gently. "badly hurt, but--" "he will not die? thank god, truxton. he is a brave--oh, a very brave man." then she remembered her mission into this whirlpool of danger. "go! don't lose a moment, darling! tell colonel quinnox that jack has come! the dragoons are--" he did not hear the end of her cry. a quick, fierce kiss and he was gone, bounding down the stairs with great shouts of encouragement. leaderless, between the deadly fires, the mercenaries gave up the fight after a brief stand at the terrace. six hundred horsemen ploughed through them, driving them to the very walls of the castle. here they broke and scattered, throwing down their arms and shouting for mercy. it was all over inside of twenty minutes. the prince reigned again. * * * * * nightfall brought complete restoration of order, peace and security in the city of edelweiss. hundreds of lives had been lost in the terrific conflict of the early morning hours; hundreds of men lay on beds of suffering, crushed and bleeding from the wounds they had courted and received. "i knowed we'd whip them," shouted the prince, wriggling gleefully in john tullis's straining embrace half an hour after the latter had ridden through the gate. tears streamed down the big man's face. one arm held the boy, the other encircled the sister he had all but lost. in the monastery of st. valentine there was another woman, waiting for him to come to her with the news of a glorious victory. perhaps she was hoping and praying for the other news that he would bring her, who knows? if he came to her with kisses, she would know without being told in so many words. truxton did not again see loraine until late in the afternoon. he had offered his services to colonel quinnox and had worked manfully in the effort to provide comfort for the wounded of both sides. general braze was at work with his men in the open city, clearing away the ugly signs of battle. the fortress and tower were full of the prisoners of war. baron dangloss, pale, emaciated, sick but resolute, was free once more and, with indomitable zeal, had thrown himself and his liberated men at once into the work of rehabilitation. it was on the occasion of the baron's first visit to the prince, late in the day, that truxton saw the girl he worshipped. prince robin had sent for him to appear in the devastated state chamber. publicly, in the presence of the court and ministry, the little ruler proclaimed him a baron and presented to him a great seal ring from among the ancient crown jewels. "say, mr. king," said bobby, after he had called the american quite close to him by means of a stealthy crooking of his finger, "would you mind giving me my lucky stone? i don't think you'll need it any longer. i will, i'm sure. you see a prince has such a lot of things to trouble him. wars and murders and everything." "thank you, prince robin," said king, placing the stone in the little hand. "i couldn't have got on without it. may it always serve you as well." "noblesse oblige, baron," said prince robin gravely. "hello!" in an excited whisper. "here's baron dangloss. he's been in his own gaol!" truxton withdrew. near the door he met loraine. she had just entered the room. there was a bright look of relief in her eyes. "count vos engo has asked for you, truxton," she said in a low voice. a delicate flush crept into her cheeks; a sudden shyness leaped into her eyes, and she looked away. "loraine, have you told him?" "yes. i am so sorry for him. he is one of the bravest men i have ever known, truxton dear. and, as it is with all men of his race, love knew no reason, no compromise. but i have made him see that i--that i cannot be his wife. he knows that i love you." "somehow, darling, i'm sorry for him." "he will not pretend friendship for you, dear," she went on painfully. "he only wants to thank you and to apologise, as you did, not so long ago. and he wants to ask you to release him from a certain obligation." "you mean our--our fight?" "yes. he is to lose his right arm, truxton. you understand how it is with him now." chapter xxiii "you will be mrs. king" late that night it was reported at the castle that a large force of men were encamped on the opposite side of the river. a hundred camp-fires were gleaming against the distant uplands. "the grand duke paulus!" exclaimed count halfont. "thank god, he did not come a day earlier. we owe him nothing to-day--but yesterday! ah, he could have demanded much of us. send his messengers to me, colonel quinnox, as soon as they arrive in the morning. i will arise early. there is much to do in graustark. let there be no sluggards." a mellow, smiling moon crept up over the hills, flooding the laud with a serene radiance. once more the windows in the castle gleamed brightly; low-voiced people strolled through the shattered balconies; others wandered about the vast halls, possessed by uncertain emotions, torn by the conflicting hands of joy and gloom. in a score of rooms wounded men were lying; in others there were dead heroes. at the barracks, standing dully against the distant shadows, there were many cots of suffering. and yet there was rejoicing, even among those who writhed in pain or bowed their heads in grief. victory's wings were fanning the gloom away; conquest was painting an ever-widening streak of brightness across the dark, drear canvas of despair. in one of the wrecked approaches to the terrace, surrounded by fragments of stone and confronted by ugly destruction, sat a young man and a slender girl. there were no lights near them; the shadows were black and forbidding. this particular end of the terrace had suffered most in the fierce rain of cannon-balls. so great was the devastation here that one attained the position held by the couple only by means of no little daring and at the risk of unkind falls. from where they sat they could see the long vista of lighted windows and yet could not themselves be seen. his arm was about her; her head nestled securely against his shoulder and her slim hands were willing prisoners in one of his. she was saying "truxton, dear, i did _not_ love eric vos engo. i just thought it was love. i never really knew what love is until you came into my life. then i knew the difference. that's what made it so hard. i had let him believe that i might care for him some day. and i _did_ like him. so i--" "you are sure--terribly sure--that i am the only man you ever really loved?" he interrupted. she snuggled closer. "haven't i just told you that i didn't know what it was until--well, until now?" "you will never, never know how happy i am, loraine!" he breathed into her ear. "i hope i shall always bring happiness to you, truxton," she murmured, faint with the joy of loving. "you will make me very unhappy if you don't marry me to-morrow." "i couldn't think of it!" "i don't ask you to think. if you do, you may change your mind completely. just marry me without thinking, dearest." "i will marry you, truxton, when we get to new york," she said, but not very firmly. he saw his advantage. "but, my dear, i'm tired of travelling." it was rather enigmatic. "what has that to do with it?" she asked. "well, it's this way: if we get married in new york we'll have to consider an extended and wholly obligatory wedding journey. if we get married here, we can save all that bother by bridal-tripping to new york, instead of away from it. and, what's more, we'll escape the rice-throwing and the old shoes and the hand-painted trunk labels. greater still: we will avoid a long and lonely trip across the ocean on separate steamers. that's something, you know." "we _could_ go on the same steamer." "quite so, my dear. but don't you think it would be nicer if we went as one instead of two?" "i suppose it would be cheaper." "they say a fellow saves money by getting married." "i hate a man who is always trying to save money." "well, if you put it that way, i'll promise never to save a cent. i'm a horrible spendthrift." "oh, you'll have to save, truxton!" "how silly we are!" he cried in utter joyousness. he held her close for a long time, his face buried in her hair. "listen, darling: won't you say you'll be my wife before i leave graustark? i want you so much. i can't go away without you." she hesitated. "when are you going, truxton? you--you haven't told me." it was what he wanted. "i am going next monday," he said promptly. as a matter of fact, he had forgotten the day of the week they were now living in. "monday? oh, dear!" "will you?" "i--i must cable home first," she faltered. "that's a mere detail, darling. cable afterward. it will beat us home by three weeks. they'll know we're coming." "i must ask john, really i must, truxton," she protested faintly. "hurray!" he shouted--in a whisper. "he is so desperately in love, he won't think of refusing anything we ask. shall we set it for saturday?" they set it for saturday without consulting john tullis, and then fell to discussing him. "he is very much in love with her," she said wistfully. "and she loves him, loraine. they will be very happy. she's wonderful." "well, so is john. he's the most wonderful man in all this world." "i am sure of it," he agreed magnanimously. "i saw him talking with her and the duke of perse as i came out awhile ago. they were going to the duke's rooms up there. the duke will offer no objections. i think he'll permit his daughter to select his next son-in-law." "how could he have given her to that terrible, terrible old man?" she cried, with a shudder. "she won't be in mourning for him long, i fancy. nobody will talk of appearances, either. she could marry jack to-morrow and no one would criticise her." "oh, that would be disgusting, truxton!" "but, my dear, he isn't to have a funeral, so why not? they buried his body in quicklime this afternoon. no mourners, no friends, no tears! hang it all, she's foolish if she puts on anything but red." "they can't be married for--oh, ever so long," she said very primly. "no, indeed," he said with alacrity. but he did not believe what he said. if he knew anything about john tullis, it would not be "ever so long" before prince robin's friend turned benedict and husband to the most noted beauty in all graustark. "i shall be sorry to leave graustark," she said dreamily, after a long period of silent retrospection. "i've had the happiest year of my life here." "i've had the busiest month of my life here. i'll never again say that the world is a dull place. and i'll never advise any man to go out of his own home city in search of the most adorable woman in the world. she's always there, bless her heart, if he'll only look around a bit for her." "but you wouldn't have found me if you hadn't come to graustark." "i shudder when i think of what might have happened to you, my princess sweetheart, if i hadn't come to edelweiss. no; i would not have found you." feeling her tremble in his arms, he went on with whimsical good humour: "you would have been eaten up by the ogre long before this. or, perhaps, you would have succeeded in becoming a countess." "as it is, i shall be a baroness." "in graustark, but not in new york. that reminds me. you'll be more than a baroness--more than a princess. you will be a queen. don't you catch the point? you will be mrs. king." * * * * * the grand duke paulus was distinctly annoyed. he had travelled many miles, endured quite a number of hardships, and all to no purpose. when dawn came, his emissaries returned from the city with the lamentable information that the government had righted itself, that marlanx's sensational revolution was at an end, and that the regents would be highly honoured if his excellency could overlook the distressingly chaotic conditions at court and condescend to pay the castle a visit. the regents, the prince and the citizens of graustark desired the opportunity to express their gratitude for the manner in which he had voluntarily (and unexpectedly) come to their assistance in time of trouble. the fact that he had come too late to render the invaluable aid he so nobly intended did not in the least minimise the volume of gratefulness they felt. the grand duke admitted that he was at sea, diplomatically. he was a fifth wheel, so to speak, now that the revolution was over. not so much as the tip of his finger had he been able to get into the coveted pie. there was nothing for him to do but to turn round with his five thousand cossacks and march disconsolately across the steppes to an imperial railroad, where he could embark for home. however, he would visit the castle in a very informal way, extend his congratulations, offer his services--which he knew would be declined with thanks--and profess his unbounded joy in the discovery that graustark happily was so able to take care of herself. incidentally, he would mention the bond issue; also, he would find the opportunity to suggest to the ministry that his government still was willing to make large grants and stupendous promises if any sort of an arrangement could be made by which the system might be operated in conjunction with branch lines of the imperial roads. and so it was that at noon he rode in pomp and splendour through the city gates, attended by his staff and a rather overpowering body-guard. his excuse for the early call was delicately worded. he said in his reply to the message from the count that it would give him great pleasure to remain for some time at the castle, were it not for the fact that he had left his own province in a serious state of unrest; it was imperative that he should return in advance of the ever-possible and always popular uprising. therefore he would pay his respects to his serene highness, renew his protestations of friendship, extend his felicitations, and beg leave to depart for his own land without delay. as he rode from regengetz circus into castle avenue, a small knot of american tourists crowded to the curb and bent eager, attentive ears to the words of a stubby little person whom we should recognise by his accent; but, for fear that there may be some who have forgotten him in the rush of events, we will point to his cap and read aloud: "cook's interpreter." mr. hobbs was saying: "the gentleman on the gray horse, ladies and gentlemen, is his _highness_, the grand duke paulus. he has come to pay his respects to his serene highness. now, if you will kindly step this way, i will show you the spot where the bomb was thrown. 'aving been an eye-witness to the shocking occurrence, i respectfully submit that i," etc. with a pride and dignity that surpassed all moderate sense of appreciation, he delivered newly made history unto his charges, modestly winding up his discourse with the casual remark that the prince had but recently appointed him twelfth assistant steward at the castle, and that he expected to assume the duties of this honorary position just as soon as cook & sons could find a capable man to send up in his place. the american tourists, it may be well to observe, arrived by the first train that entered the city from the outside world. the audience was at two o'clock. prince robin was in a state of tremendous excitement. never before had he been called upon to receive a grand duke. he quite forgot yesterday's battle in the face of this most imposing calamity. more than that, he was in no frame of mind to enjoy the excitement attending the rehabilitation of the castle; oppressed by the approaching shadow of the great man, he lost all interest in what was going on in the castle, about the grounds and among his courtiers. "what'll i do, uncle jack, if he asks any questions?" he mourned. they were dressing him in the robes of state. "answer 'em," said his best friend. "but supposin' i can't? then what?" "he won't ask questions, bobby. people never do when a potentate is on his throne. it's shockingly bad form." "i hope he won't stay long," prayed bobby, a grave pucker between his brows. he was a very tired little boy. his eyes were heavy with sleep and his lips were not very firm. "count halfont will look after him, bobby; so don't worry. just sit up there on the throne and look wise. the regents will do the rest. watch your uncle caspar. when he gives the signal, you arise. that ends the audience. you walk out--" "i know all about that, uncle jack. but i bet i do something wrong. this thing of receiving grand dukes is no joke. 'specially when we're so terribly upset. really, i ought to be looking after the men who are wounded, attending to the funerals of--" "now, bobby, don't flunk like that! be a man!" bobby promptly squared his little shoulders and set his jaw. "oh, i'm not scared!" he was thoughtful for a moment. "but, i'll tell you, it's awful lonesome up in that big chair, so far away from all your friends. i wish uncle caspar would let me sit down with the crowd." the grand duke, with all the arrogance of a real personage, was late. it was not for him to consider the conditions that distressed the court of graustark. not at all. he was a grand duke and he would take his own time in paying his respects. what cared he that every one in the castle was tired and unstrung and sad and--sleepy? any one but a grand duke would have waited a day or two before requiring a royal audience. when he finally presented himself at the castle doors, a sleepy group of attendants actually yawned in his presence. a somnolent atmosphere, still touched by the smell of gunpowder, greeted him as he strode majestically down the halls. somehow each person who bowed to him seemed to do it with the melancholy precision of one who has been up for six nights in succession and doesn't care who knows it. no one had slept during the night just passed. excitement and the suffering of others had denied slumber to one and all--even to those who had not slept for many days and nights. now the reaction was upon them. relaxation had succeeded tenseness. when the grand duke entered the great, sombre throne room, he was confronted by a punctiliously polite assemblage, but every eyelid was as heavy as lead and as prone to sink. the prince sat far back in the great chair of his ancestors, his sturdy legs sticking straight out in front of him, utterly lost in the depths of gold and royal velvet. two-score or more of his courtiers and as many noble ladies of the realm stood soberly in the places assigned them by the laws of precedence. the grand duke advanced between the respectful lines and knelt at the foot of the throne. "arise, your highness," piped bobby, with a quick glance at count halfont. it was a very faint, faraway voice that uttered the gracious command. "graustark welcomes the grand duke paulus. it is my pleasure to--to--to--" a helpless look came into his eyes. he looked everywhere for support. the grand duke saw that he had forgotten the rehearsed speech, and smiled benignly as he stepped forward and kissed the hand that had been extended somewhat uncertainly. "my most respectful homage to your majesty. the felicitations of my emperor and the warmest protestations of friendship from his people." with this as a prologue, he engaged himself in the ever-pleasurable task of delivering a long, congratulatory address. if there was one thing above another that the grand duke enjoyed, it was the making of a speech. he prided himself on his prowess as an orator and as an after-dinner speaker; but, more than either of these, he gloried in his ability to soar extemporaneously. for ten minutes he addressed himself to the throne, benignly, comfortably. then he condescended to devote a share of his precious store to the courtiers behind him. if he caught more than one of them yawning when he turned in their direction, he did not permit it to disturb him in the least. his eyes may have narrowed a bit, but that was all. after five minutes of high-sounding platitudes, he again turned to the prince. it was then that he received his first shock. prince robin was sound asleep. his head was slipping side-wise along the satiny back of the big chair, and his chin was very low in the laces at his neck. the grand duke coughed emphatically, cleared his throat, and grew very red in the face. the court of graustark was distinctly dismayed. here was shocking state of affairs. the prince going to sleep while a grand duke talked! "his majesty appears to have--ahem--gone to sleep," remarked the grand duke tartly, interrupting himself to address the prime minister. "he is very tired, your excellency," said count halfont, very much distressed. "pray consider what he has been through during the--" "ah, my dear count, do not apologise for him. i quite understand. ahem! ahem!" still he was very red in the face. some one had laughed softly behind his back. "i will awaken him, your excellency," said the prime minister, edging toward the throne. "not at all, sir!" protested the visitor. "permit him to have his sleep out, sir. i will not have him disturbed. who am i that i should defeat the claims of nature? it is my pleasure to wait until his majesty's nap is over. then he may dismiss us, but not until we have cried: 'long live the prince!'" for awhile they stood in awkward silence, this notable gathering of men and women. then the prime minister, in hushed tones, suggested that it would be eminently proper, under the circumstances, for all present to be seated. he was under the impression that his serene highness would sleep long and soundly. stiff-backed and uncomfortable, the court sat and waited. no one pretended to conceal the blissful yawns that would not be denied. a drowsy, ineffably languid feeling took possession of the entire assemblage. here and there a noble head nodded slightly; eyelids fell in the silent war against the god of slumber, only to revive again with painful energy and ever-weakening courage. the prime minister sat at the foot of the throne and nodded in spite of himself. the minister of the treasury was breathing so heavily that his neighbor nudged him just in time to prevent something even more humiliating. john tullis, far back near the wall, had his head on his hand, bravely fighting off the persistent demon. prince dantan of dawsbergen was sound asleep. the grand duke was wide awake. he saw it all and was equal to the occasion. after all, he was a kindly old gentleman, and, once his moment of mortification was over, he was not above charity. bobby's poor little head had slipped over to a most uncomfortable position against the arm of the chair. putting his finger to his lips, the grand duke tip-toed carefully up to the throne. with very gentle hands he lifted bobby's head, and, infinitely tender, stuffed a throne cushion behind the curly head. still with his finger to his lips, a splendid smile in his eyes, he tip-toed back to his chair. as he passed count halfont, who had risen, he whispered: "dear little man! i do not forget, my lord, that i was once a boy. god bless him!" then he sat down, conscious of a fine feeling of goodness, folded his arms across his expansive chest, and allowed his beaming eyes to rest upon the sleeping boy far back in the chair of state. incidentally, he decided to delay a few days before taking up the bond question with the ministry. the grand duke was not an ordinary diplomat. in one of the curtained windows, far removed from the throne, sat truxton king and loraine tullis. all about them people were watching the delicate little scene, smiling drowsily at the grand duke's tender comedy. no one was looking at the two in the curtained recess. her hand was in his, her head sank slowly toward his inviting shoulder; her heavy lids drooped lower and lower, refusing to obey the slender will that argued against complete surrender. at last her soft, regular breathing told him that she was asleep. awaiting his opportunity, he tenderly kissed the soft, brown hair, murmured a gentle word of love, and settled his own head against the thick cushions. everywhere they dozed and nodded. the grand duke smiled and blinked his little eyes. he was very wide awake. that is how he happened to see the prince move restlessly and half open his sleep-bound eyes. the grand duke leaned forward with his hand to his ear, and listened. he had seen the boy's lips move. from dreamland came bobby's belated: "good-ni--ight." the end [illustration: alice in the room of the duchess.] _the "storyland" series_ alice's adventures in wonderland sam'l gabriel sons & company new york copyright, , by sam'l gabriel sons & company new york alice's adventures in wonderland [illustration] i--down the rabbit-hole alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do. once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought alice, "without pictures or conversations?" so she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. there was nothing so very remarkable in that, nor did alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the rabbit say to itself, "oh dear! oh dear! i shall be too late!" but when the rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket and looked at it and then hurried on, alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole, under the hedge. in another moment, down went alice after it! [illustration] the rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well. either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time, as she went down, to look about her. first, she tried to make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. she took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed. it was labeled "orange marmalade," but, to her great disappointment, it was empty; she did not like to drop the jar, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. down, down, down! would the fall never come to an end? there was nothing else to do, so alice soon began talking to herself. "dinah'll miss me very much to-night, i should think!" (dinah was the cat.) "i hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. dinah, my dear, i wish you were down here with me!" alice felt that she was dozing off, when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up in a moment. she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage and the white rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. there was not a moment to be lost. away went alice like the wind and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "oh, my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!" she was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the rabbit was no longer to be seen. she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. there were doors all 'round the hall, but they were all locked; and when alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again. suddenly she came upon a little table, all made of solid glass. there was nothing on it but a tiny golden key, and alice's first idea was that this might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but, at any rate, it would not open any of them. however, on the second time 'round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high. she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight, it fitted! [illustration] alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole; she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. how she longed to get out of that dark hall and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway. "oh," said alice, "how i wish i could shut up like a telescope! i think i could, if i only knew how to begin." alice went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate, a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes. this time she found a little bottle on it ("which certainly was not here before," said alice), and tied 'round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words "drink me" beautifully printed on it in large letters. "no, i'll look first," she said, "and see whether it's marked '_poison_' or not," for she had never forgotten that, if you drink from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. however, this bottle was _not_ marked "poison," so alice ventured to taste it, and, finding it very nice (it had a sort of mixed flavor of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffy and hot buttered toast), she very soon finished it off. * * * * * "what a curious feeling!" said alice. "i must be shutting up like a telescope!" and so it was indeed! she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. after awhile, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery, and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried. "come, there's no use in crying like that!" said alice to herself rather sharply. "i advise you to leave off this minute!" she generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes. soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it and found in it a very small cake, on which the words "eat me" were beautifully marked in currants. "well, i'll eat it," said alice, "and if it makes me grow larger, i can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, i can creep under the door: so either way i'll get into the garden, and i don't care which happens!" she ate a little bit and said anxiously to herself, "which way? which way?" holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way she was growing; and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size. so she set to work and very soon finished off the cake. [illustration] ii--the pool of tears "curiouser and curiouser!" cried alice (she was so much surprised that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good english). "now i'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! good-by, feet! oh, my poor little feet, i wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? i shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you." just at this moment her head struck against the roof of the hall; in fact, she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door. poor alice! it was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever. she sat down and began to cry again. she went on shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all 'round her and reaching half down the hall. after a time, she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. it was the white rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid-gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other. he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself, "oh! the duchess, the duchess! oh! _won't_ she be savage if i've kept her waiting!" when the rabbit came near her, alice began, in a low, timid voice, "if you please, sir--" the rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid-gloves and the fan and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go. [illustration] alice took up the fan and gloves and she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking. "dear, dear! how queer everything is to-day! and yesterday things went on just as usual. _was_ i the same when i got up this morning? but if i'm not the same, the next question is, 'who in the world am i?' ah, _that's_ the great puzzle!" as she said this, she looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the rabbit's little white kid-gloves while she was talking. "how _can_ i have done that?" she thought. "i must be growing small again." she got up and went to the table to measure herself by it and found that she was now about two feet high and was going on shrinking rapidly. she soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding and she dropped it hastily, just in time to save herself from shrinking away altogether. "that _was_ a narrow escape!" said alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence. "and now for the garden!" and she ran with all speed back to the little door; but, alas! the little door was shut again and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before. "things are worse than ever," thought the poor child, "for i never was so small as this before, never!" as she said these words, her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt-water. her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea. however, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. [illustration] just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to see what it was: she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself. "would it be of any use, now," thought alice, "to speak to this mouse? everything is so out-of-the-way down here that i should think very likely it can talk; at any rate, there's no harm in trying." so she began, "o mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? i am very tired of swimming about here, o mouse!" the mouse looked at her rather inquisitively and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing. "perhaps it doesn't understand english," thought alice. "i dare say it's a french mouse, come over with william the conqueror." so she began again: "où est ma chatte?" which was the first sentence in her french lesson-book. the mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water and seemed to quiver all over with fright. "oh, i beg your pardon!" cried alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. "i quite forgot you didn't like cats." "not like cats!" cried the mouse in a shrill, passionate voice. "would _you_ like cats, if you were me?" "well, perhaps not," said alice in a soothing tone; "don't be angry about it. and yet i wish i could show you our cat dinah. i think you'd take a fancy to cats, if you could only see her. she is such a dear, quiet thing." the mouse was bristling all over and she felt certain it must be really offended. "we won't talk about her any more, if you'd rather not." "we, indeed!" cried the mouse, who was trembling down to the end of its tail. "as if _i_ would talk on such a subject! our family always _hated_ cats--nasty, low, vulgar things! don't let me hear the name again!" [illustration: alice at the mad tea party.] "i won't indeed!" said alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. "are you--are you fond--of--of dogs? there is such a nice little dog near our house, i should like to show you! it kills all the rats and--oh, dear!" cried alice in a sorrowful tone. "i'm afraid i've offended it again!" for the mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went. so she called softly after it, "mouse dear! do come back again, and we won't talk about cats, or dogs either, if you don't like them!" when the mouse heard this, it turned 'round and swam slowly back to her; its face was quite pale, and it said, in a low, trembling voice, "let us get to the shore and then i'll tell you my history and you'll understand why it is i hate cats and dogs." it was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it; there were a duck and a dodo, a lory and an eaglet, and several other curious creatures. alice led the way and the whole party swam to the shore. [illustration] iii--a caucus-race and a long tale they were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank--the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross and uncomfortable. [illustration] the first question, of course, was how to get dry again. they had a consultation about this and after a few minutes, it seemed quite natural to alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. at last the mouse, who seemed to be a person of some authority among them, called out, "sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _i'll_ soon make you dry enough!" they all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the mouse in the middle. "ahem!" said the mouse with an important air. "are you all ready? this is the driest thing i know. silence all 'round, if you please! 'william the conqueror, whose cause was favored by the pope, was soon submitted to by the english, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria'--" "ugh!" said the lory, with a shiver. "--'and even stigand, the patriotic archbishop of canterbury, found it advisable'--" "found _what_?" said the duck. "found _it_," the mouse replied rather crossly; "of course, you know what 'it' means." "i know what 'it' means well enough, when _i_ find a thing," said the duck; "it's generally a frog or a worm. the question is, what did the archbishop find?" the mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, "'--found it advisable to go with edgar atheling to meet william and offer him the crown.'--how are you getting on now, my dear?" it continued, turning to alice as it spoke. "as wet as ever," said alice in a melancholy tone; "it doesn't seem to dry me at all." "in that case," said the dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, "i move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies--" "speak english!" said the eaglet. "i don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, i don't believe you do either!" "what i was going to say," said the dodo in an offended tone, "is that the best thing to get us dry would be a caucus-race." "what _is_ a caucus-race?" said alice. [illustration] "why," said the dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." first it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. there was no "one, two, three and away!" but they began running when they liked and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. however, when they had been running half an hour or so and were quite dry again, the dodo suddenly called out, "the race is over!" and they all crowded 'round it, panting and asking, "but who has won?" this question the dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought. at last it said, "_everybody_ has won, and _all_ must have prizes." "but who is to give the prizes?" quite a chorus of voices asked. "why, _she_, of course," said the dodo, pointing to alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded 'round her, calling out, in a confused way, "prizes! prizes!" alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a box of comfits (luckily the salt-water had not got into it) and handed them 'round as prizes. there was exactly one a-piece, all 'round. the next thing was to eat the comfits; this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. however, it was over at last and they sat down again in a ring and begged the mouse to tell them something more. "you promised to tell me your history, you know," said alice, "and why it is you hate--c and d," she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again. "mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the mouse, turning to alice and sighing. "it _is_ a long tail, certainly," said alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse's tail, "but why do you call it sad?" and she kept on puzzling about it while the mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:-- "fury said to a mouse, that he met in the house, 'let us both go to law: _i_ will prosecute _you_.-- come, i'll take no denial: we must have the trial; for really this morning i've nothing to do.' said the mouse to the cur, 'such a trial, dear sir, with no jury or judge, would be wasting our breath.' 'i'll be judge, i'll be jury,' said cunning old fury; 'i'll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death.'" "you are not attending!" said the mouse to alice, severely. "what are you thinking of?" "i beg your pardon," said alice very humbly, "you had got to the fifth bend, i think?" "you insult me by talking such nonsense!" said the mouse, getting up and walking away. "please come back and finish your story!" alice called after it. and the others all joined in chorus, "yes, please do!" but the mouse only shook its head impatiently and walked a little quicker. "i wish i had dinah, our cat, here!" said alice. this caused a remarkable sensation among the party. some of the birds hurried off at once, and a canary called out in a trembling voice, to its children, "come away, my dears! it's high time you were all in bed!" on various pretexts they all moved off and alice was soon left alone. "i wish i hadn't mentioned dinah! nobody seems to like her down here and i'm sure she's the best cat in the world!" poor alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. in a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance and she looked up eagerly. [illustration] [illustration] iv--the rabbit sends in a little bill it was the white rabbit, trotting slowly back again and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; alice heard it muttering to itself, "the duchess! the duchess! oh, my dear paws! oh, my fur and whiskers! she'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! where _can_ i have dropped them, i wonder?" alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid-gloves and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely. very soon the rabbit noticed alice, and called to her, in an angry tone, "why, mary ann, what _are_ you doing out here? run home this moment and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! quick, now!" "he took me for his housemaid!" said alice, as she ran off. "how surprised he'll be when he finds out who i am!" as she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name "w. rabbit" engraved upon it. she went in without knocking and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real mary ann and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves. by this time, alice had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves; she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves and was just going to leave the room, when her eyes fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. she uncorked it and put it to her lips, saying to herself, "i do hope it'll make me grow large again, for, really, i'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!" before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. she hastily put down the bottle, remarking, "that's quite enough--i hope i sha'n't grow any more." alas! it was too late to wish that! she went on growing and growing and very soon she had to kneel down on the floor. still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself, "now i can do no more, whatever happens. what _will_ become of me?" [illustration] luckily for alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect and she grew no larger. after a few minutes she heard a voice outside and stopped to listen. "mary ann! mary ann!" said the voice. "fetch me my gloves this moment!" then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. alice knew it was the rabbit coming to look for her and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the rabbit and had no reason to be afraid of it. presently the rabbit came up to the door and tried to open it; but as the door opened inwards and alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. alice heard it say to itself, "then i'll go 'round and get in at the window." "_that_ you won't!" thought alice; and after waiting till she fancied she heard the rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand and made a snatch in the air. she did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame or something of that sort. next came an angry voice--the rabbit's--"pat! pat! where are you?" and then a voice she had never heard before, "sure then, i'm here! digging for apples, yer honor!" "here! come and help me out of this! now tell me, pat, what's that in the window?" "sure, it's an arm, yer honor!" "well, it's got no business there, at any rate; go and take it away!" there was a long silence after this and alice could only hear whispers now and then, and at last she spread out her hand again and made another snatch in the air. this time there were _two_ little shrieks and more sounds of broken glass. "i wonder what they'll do next!" thought alice. "as for pulling me out of the window, i only wish they _could_!" she waited for some time without hearing anything more. at last came a rumbling of little cart-wheels and the sound of a good many voices all talking together. she made out the words: "where's the other ladder? bill's got the other--bill! here, bill! will the roof bear?--who's to go down the chimney?--nay, _i_ sha'n't! _you_ do it! here, bill! the master says you've got to go down the chimney!" alice drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could and waited till she heard a little animal scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her; then she gave one sharp kick and waited to see what would happen next. the first thing she heard was a general chorus of "there goes bill!" then the rabbit's voice alone--"catch him, you by the hedge!" then silence and then another confusion of voices--"hold up his head--brandy now--don't choke him--what happened to you?" last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, "well, i hardly know--no more, thank ye. i'm better now--all i know is, something comes at me like a jack-in-the-box and up i goes like a sky-rocket!" after a minute or two of silence, they began moving about again, and alice heard the rabbit say, "a barrowful will do, to begin with." "a barrowful of _what_?" thought alice. but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window and some of them hit her in the face. alice noticed, with some surprise, that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor and a bright idea came into her head. "if i eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure to make _some_ change in my size." so she swallowed one of the cakes and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. as soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside. they all made a rush at alice the moment she appeared, but she ran off as hard as she could and soon found herself safe in a thick wood. [illustration: "the duchess tucked her arm affectionately into alice's."] "the first thing i've got to do," said alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. i suppose i ought to eat or drink something or other, but the great question is 'what?'" alice looked all around her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she could not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. there was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself. she stretched herself up on tiptoe and peeped over the edge and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top, with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. [illustration] v--advice from a caterpillar at last the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and addressed alice in a languid, sleepy voice. "who are _you_?" said the caterpillar. [illustration] alice replied, rather shyly, "i--i hardly know, sir, just at present--at least i know who i _was_ when i got up this morning, but i think i must have changed several times since then." "what do you mean by that?" said the caterpillar, sternly. "explain yourself!" "i can't explain _myself_, i'm afraid, sir," said alice, "because i'm not myself, you see--being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing." she drew herself up and said very gravely, "i think you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first." "why?" said the caterpillar. as alice could not think of any good reason and the caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. "come back!" the caterpillar called after her. "i've something important to say!" alice turned and came back again. "keep your temper," said the caterpillar. "is that all?" said alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. "no," said the caterpillar. it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "so you think you're changed, do you?" "i'm afraid, i am, sir," said alice. "i can't remember things as i used--and i don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!" "what size do you want to be?" asked the caterpillar. "oh, i'm not particular as to size," alice hastily replied, "only one doesn't like changing so often, you know. i should like to be a _little_ larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind," said alice. "three inches is such a wretched height to be." "it is a very good height indeed!" said the caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). in a minute or two, the caterpillar got down off the mushroom and crawled away into the grass, merely remarking, as it went, "one side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter." "one side of _what_? the other side of _what_?" thought alice to herself. "of the mushroom," said the caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment, it was out of sight. alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it. at last she stretched her arms 'round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. "and now which is which?" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect. the next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin--it had struck her foot! she was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. her chin was pressed so closely against her foot that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last and managed to swallow a morsel of the left-hand bit.... "come, my head's free at last!" said alice; but all she could see, when she looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her. "where _have_ my shoulders got to? and oh, my poor hands, how is it i can't see you?" she was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. she had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag and was going to dive in among the leaves, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry--a large pigeon had flown into her face and was beating her violently with its wings. [illustration] "serpent!" cried the pigeon. "i'm _not_ a serpent!" said alice indignantly. "let me alone!" "i've tried the roots of trees, and i've tried banks, and i've tried hedges," the pigeon went on, "but those serpents! there's no pleasing them!" alice was more and more puzzled. "as if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the pigeon, "but i must be on the look-out for serpents, night and day! and just as i'd taken the highest tree in the wood," continued the pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, "and just as i was thinking i should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky! ugh, serpent!" "but i'm _not_ a serpent, i tell you!" said alice. "i'm a--i'm a--i'm a little girl," she added rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day. "you're looking for eggs, i know _that_ well enough," said the pigeon; "and what does it matter to me whether you're a little girl or a serpent?" "it matters a good deal to _me_," said alice hastily; "but i'm not looking for eggs, as it happens, and if i was, i shouldn't want _yours_--i don't like them raw." "well, be off, then!" said the pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest. alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. after awhile she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. it was so long since she had been anything near the right size that it felt quite strange at first. "the next thing is to get into that beautiful garden--how _is_ that to be done, i wonder?" as she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. "whoever lives there," thought alice, "it'll never do to come upon them _this_ size; why, i should frighten them out of their wits!" she did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high. vi--pig and pepper for a minute or two she stood looking at the house, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood (judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)--and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. it was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face and large eyes like a frog. [illustration] the fish-footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, "for the duchess. an invitation from the queen to play croquet." the frog-footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, "from the queen. an invitation for the duchess to play croquet." then they both bowed low and their curls got entangled together. when alice next peeped out, the fish-footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky. alice went timidly up to the door and knocked. "there's no sort of use in knocking," said the footman, "and that for two reasons. first, because i'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you." and certainly there _was_ a most extraordinary noise going on within--a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces. "how am i to get in?" asked alice. "_are_ you to get in at all?" said the footman. "that's the first question, you know." alice opened the door and went in. the door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other; the duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large caldron which seemed to be full of soup. "there's certainly too much pepper in that soup!" alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing. even the duchess sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment's pause. the only two creatures in the kitchen that did _not_ sneeze were the cook and a large cat, which was grinning from ear to ear. "please would you tell me," said alice, a little timidly, "why your cat grins like that?" "it's a cheshire-cat," said the duchess, "and that's why." "i didn't know that cheshire-cats always grinned; in fact, i didn't know that cats _could_ grin," said alice. "you don't know much," said the duchess, "and that's a fact." just then the cook took the caldron of soup off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the duchess and the baby--the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates and dishes. the duchess took no notice of them, even when they hit her, and the baby was howling so much already that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. "oh, _please_ mind what you're doing!" cried alice, jumping up and down in an agony of terror. "here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!" the duchess said to alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. "i must go and get ready to play croquet with the queen," and she hurried out of the room. alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped little creature and held out its arms and legs in all directions. "if i don't take this child away with me," thought alice, "they're sure to kill it in a day or two. wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?" she said the last words out loud and the little thing grunted in reply. "if you're going to turn into a pig, my dear," said alice, "i'll have nothing more to do with you. mind now!" alice was just beginning to think to herself, "now, what am i to do with this creature, when i get it home?" when it grunted again so violently that alice looked down into its face in some alarm. this time there could be _no_ mistake about it--it was neither more nor less than a pig; so she set the little creature down and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood. alice was a little startled by seeing the cheshire-cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off. the cat only grinned when it saw her. "cheshire-puss," began alice, rather timidly, "would you please tell me which way i ought to go from here?" "in _that_ direction," the cat said, waving the right paw 'round, "lives a hatter; and in _that_ direction," waving the other paw, "lives a march hare. visit either you like; they're both mad." "but i don't want to go among mad people," alice remarked. "oh, you can't help that," said the cat; "we're all mad here. do you play croquet with the queen to-day?" "i should like it very much," said alice, "but i haven't been invited yet." "you'll see me there," said the cat, and vanished. alice had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the march hare; it was so large a house that she did not like to go near till she had nibbled some more of the left-hand bit of mushroom. vii--a mad tea-party there was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the march hare and the hatter were having tea at it; a dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep. the table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it. "no room! no room!" they cried out when they saw alice coming. "there's _plenty_ of room!" said alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. the hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this, but all he said was "why is a raven like a writing-desk?" "i'm glad they've begun asking riddles--i believe i can guess that," she added aloud. "do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the march hare. "exactly so," said alice. "then you should say what you mean," the march hare went on. "i do," alice hastily replied; "at least--at least i mean what i say--that's the same thing, you know." "you might just as well say," added the dormouse, which seemed to be talking in its sleep, "that 'i breathe when i sleep' is the same thing as 'i sleep when i breathe!'" "it _is_ the same thing with you," said the hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose. the dormouse shook its head impatiently and said, without opening its eyes, "of course, of course; just what i was going to remark myself." [illustration] "have you guessed the riddle yet?" the hatter said, turning to alice again. "no, i give it up," alice replied. "what's the answer?" "i haven't the slightest idea," said the hatter. "nor i," said the march hare. alice gave a weary sigh. "i think you might do something better with the time," she said, "than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers." "take some more tea," the march hare said to alice, very earnestly. "i've had nothing yet," alice replied in an offended tone, "so i can't take more." "you mean you can't take _less_," said the hatter; "it's very easy to take _more_ than nothing." at this, alice got up and walked off. the dormouse fell asleep instantly and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice; the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the dormouse into the tea-pot. [illustration: the trial of the knave of hearts.] "at any rate, i'll never go _there_ again!" said alice, as she picked her way through the wood. "it's the stupidest tea-party i ever was at in all my life!" just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into it. "that's very curious!" she thought. "i think i may as well go in at once." and in she went. once more she found herself in the long hall and close to the little glass table. taking the little golden key, she unlocked the door that led into the garden. then she set to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high; then she walked down the little passage; and _then_--she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains. viii--the queen's croquet ground a large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden; the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. suddenly their eyes chanced to fall upon alice, as she stood watching them. "would you tell me, please," said alice, a little timidly, "why you are painting those roses?" five and seven said nothing, but looked at two. two began, in a low voice, "why, the fact is, you see, miss, this here ought to have been a _red_ rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and, if the queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. so you see, miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to--" at this moment, five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out, "the queen! the queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. there was a sound of many footsteps and alice looked 'round, eager to see the queen. first came ten soldiers carrying clubs, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds. after these came the royal children; there were ten of them, all ornamented with hearts. next came the guests, mostly kings and queens, and among them alice recognized the white rabbit. then followed the knave of hearts, carrying the king's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession came the king and the queen of hearts. when the procession came opposite to alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the queen said severely, "who is this?" she said it to the knave of hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. "my name is alice, so please your majesty," said alice very politely; but she added to herself, "why, they're only a pack of cards, after all!" "can you play croquet?" shouted the queen. the question was evidently meant for alice. "yes!" said alice loudly. "come on, then!" roared the queen. "it's--it's a very fine day!" said a timid voice to alice. she was walking by the white rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. "very," said alice. "where's the duchess?" "hush! hush!" said the rabbit. "she's under sentence of execution." "what for?" said alice. "she boxed the queen's ears--" the rabbit began. "get to your places!" shouted the queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other. however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows. the croquet balls were live hedgehogs, and the mallets live flamingos and the soldiers had to double themselves up and stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. the players all played at once, without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time, the queen was in a furious passion and went stamping about and shouting, "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" about once in a minute. "they're dreadfully fond of beheading people here," thought alice; "the great wonder is that there's anyone left alive!" she was looking about for some way of escape, when she noticed a curious appearance in the air. "it's the cheshire-cat," she said to herself; "now i shall have somebody to talk to." "how are you getting on?" said the cat. "i don't think they play at all fairly," alice said, in a rather complaining tone; "and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak--and they don't seem to have any rules in particular." "how do you like the queen?" said the cat in a low voice. "not at all," said alice. [illustration] alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was going on. so she went off in search of her hedgehog. the hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other; the only difficulty was that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where alice could see it trying, in a helpless sort of way, to fly up into a tree. she caught the flamingo and tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again. just then alice ran across the duchess (who was now out of prison). she tucked her arm affectionately into alice's and they walked off together. alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper. she was a little startled, however, when she heard the voice of the duchess close to her ear. "you're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk." "the game's going on rather better now," alice said, by way of keeping up the conversation a little. "'tis so," said the duchess; "and the moral of that is--'oh, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go 'round!'" "somebody said," alice whispered, "that it's done by everybody minding his own business!" "ah, well! it means much the same thing," said the duchess, digging her sharp little chin into alice's shoulder, as she added "and the moral of _that_ is--'take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.'" to alice's great surprise, the duchess's arm that was linked into hers began to tremble. alice looked up and there stood the queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm! "now, i give you fair warning," shouted the queen, stamping on the ground as she spoke, "either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time. take your choice!" the duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. "let's go on with the game," the queen said to alice; and alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet-ground. all the time they were playing, the queen never left off quarreling with the other players and shouting, "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" by the end of half an hour or so, all the players, except the king, the queen and alice, were in custody of the soldiers and under sentence of execution. then the queen left off, quite out of breath, and walked away with alice. alice heard the king say in a low voice to the company generally, "you are all pardoned." suddenly the cry "the trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance, and alice ran along with the others. ix--who stole the tarts? the king and queen of hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them--all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the king was the white rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand and a scroll of parchment in the other. in the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it. "i wish they'd get the trial done," alice thought, "and hand 'round the refreshments!" the judge, by the way, was the king and he wore his crown over his great wig. "that's the jury-box," thought alice; "and those twelve creatures (some were animals and some were birds) i suppose they are the jurors." just then the white rabbit cried out "silence in the court!" "herald, read the accusation!" said the king. [illustration] on this, the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, then unrolled the parchment-scroll and read as follows: "the queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day; the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts and took them quite away!" "call the first witness," said the king; and the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet and called out, "first witness!" the first witness was the hatter. he came in with a teacup in one hand and a piece of bread and butter in the other. "you ought to have finished," said the king. "when did you begin?" the hatter looked at the march hare, who had followed him into the court, arm in arm with the dormouse. "fourteenth of march, i _think_ it was," he said. "give your evidence," said the king, "and don't be nervous, or i'll have you executed on the spot." this did not seem to encourage the witness at all; he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the queen, and, in his confusion, he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread and butter. just at this moment alice felt a very curious sensation--she was beginning to grow larger again. the miserable hatter dropped his teacup and bread and butter and went down on one knee. "i'm a poor man, your majesty," he began. "you're a _very_ poor _speaker_," said the king. "you may go," said the king, and the hatter hurriedly left the court. "call the next witness!" said the king. the next witness was the duchess's cook. she carried the pepper-box in her hand and the people near the door began sneezing all at once. "give your evidence," said the king. "sha'n't," said the cook. the king looked anxiously at the white rabbit, who said, in a low voice, "your majesty must cross-examine _this_ witness." "well, if i must, i must," the king said. "what are tarts made of?" "pepper, mostly," said the cook. for some minutes the whole court was in confusion and by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared. "never mind!" said the king, "call the next witness." alice watched the white rabbit as he fumbled over the list. imagine her surprise when he read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name "alice!" x--alice's evidence "here!" cried alice. she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below. "oh, i _beg_ your pardon!" she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay. "the trial cannot proceed," said the king, "until all the jurymen are back in their proper places--_all_," he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at alice. "what do you know about this business?" the king said to alice. "nothing whatever," said alice. the king then read from his book: "rule forty-two. _all persons more than a mile high to leave the court_." "_i'm_ not a mile high," said alice. "nearly two miles high," said the queen. [illustration] "well, i sha'n't go, at any rate," said alice. the king turned pale and shut his note-book hastily. "consider your verdict," he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. "there's more evidence to come yet, please your majesty," said the white rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry. "this paper has just been picked up. it seems to be a letter written by the prisoner to--to somebody." he unfolded the paper as he spoke and added, "it isn't a letter, after all; it's a set of verses." "please, your majesty," said the knave, "i didn't write it and they can't prove that i did; there's no name signed at the end." "you _must_ have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man," said the king. there was a general clapping of hands at this. "read them," he added, turning to the white rabbit. there was dead silence in the court whilst the white rabbit read out the verses. "that's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet," said the king. "_i_ don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it," ventured alice. "if there's no meaning in it," said the king, "that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. let the jury consider their verdict." "no, no!" said the queen. "sentence first--verdict afterwards." "stuff and nonsense!" said alice loudly. "the idea of having the sentence first!" "hold your tongue!" said the queen, turning purple. "i won't!" said alice. "off with her head!" the queen shouted at the top of her voice. nobody moved. "who cares for _you_?" said alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). "you're nothing but a pack of cards!" [illustration] at this, the whole pack rose up in the air and came flying down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. "wake up, alice dear!" said her sister. "why, what a long sleep you've had!" "oh, i've had such a curious dream!" said alice. and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange adventures of hers that you have just been reading about. alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been. [illustration] [illustration] alice's adventures in wonderland retold in words of one syllable by mrs. j.c. gorham _fully illustrated_ a.l. burt company publishers, new york copyright * * * * * contents. chapter i. down the rabbit hole chapter ii. the pool of tears chapter iii. a race chapter iv. the rabbit sends in a bill chapter v. a caterpillar tells alice what to do chapter vi. pig and pepper chapter vii. a mad tea party chapter viii. the queen's croquet ground chapter ix. the mock turtle chapter x. the lobster dance chapter xi. who stole the tarts? chapter xii. alice on the stand chapter i. down the rab-bit hole. al-ice had sat on the bank by her sis-ter till she was tired. once or twice she had looked at the book her sis-ter held in her hand, but there were no pict-ures in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought alice, "with-out pict-ures?" she asked her-self as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel quite dull, if it would be worth while to get up and pick some dai-sies to make a chain. just then a white rab-bit with pink eyes ran close by her. [illustration] that was not such a strange thing, nor did alice think it so much out of the way to hear the rab-bit say, "oh dear! oh, dear! i shall be late!" but when the rab-bit took a watch out of its pock-et, and looked at it and then ran on, al-ice start-ed to her feet, for she knew that was the first time she had seen a rab-bit with a watch. she jumped up and ran to get a look at it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rab-bit hole near the hedge. as fast as she could go, al-ice went down the hole af-ter it, and did not once stop to think how in the world she was to get out. the hole went straight on for some way and then turned down with a sharp bend, so sharp that al-ice had no time to think to stop till she found her-self fall-ing in what seemed a deep well. she must not have moved fast, or the well must have been quite deep, for it took her a long time to go down, and as she went she had time to look at the strange things she passed. first she tried to look down and make out what was there, but it was too dark to see; then she looked at the sides of the well and saw that they were piled with book-shelves; here and there she saw maps hung on pegs. she took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed. on it was the word _jam_, but there was no jam in it, so she put it back on one of the shelves as she fell past it. "well," thought al-ice to her-self, "af-ter such a fall as this, i shall not mind a fall down stairs at all. how brave they'll all think me at home! why, i wouldn't say a thing if i fell off the top of the house." (which i dare say was quite true.) down, down, down. would the fall nev-er come to an end? "i should like to know," she said, "how far i have come by this time. wouldn't it be strange if i should fall right through the earth and come out where the folks walk with their feet up and their heads down?" down, down, down. "di-nah will miss me to-night," al-ice went on. (di-nah was the cat.) "i hope they'll think to give her her milk at tea-time. di-nah, my dear! i wish you were down here with me! there are no mice in the air, but you might catch a bat, and that's much like a mouse, you know. but do cats eat bats?" and here al-ice must have gone to sleep, for she dreamed that she walked hand in hand with di-nah, and just as she asked her, "now, di-nah, tell me the truth, do you eat bats?" all at once, thump! thump! down she came on a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the long fall was o-ver. al-ice was not a bit hurt, but at once jumped to her feet. she looked up, but all was dark there. at the end of a long hall in front of her the white rab-bit was still in sight. there was no time to be lost, so off al-ice went like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, "oh, my ears, how late it is!" then it was out of sight. she found she was in a long hall with a low roof, from which hung a row of light-ed lamps. there were doors on all sides, but when al-ice had been all round and tried each one, she found they were all locked. she walked back and forth and tried to think how she was to get out. at last she came to a stand made all of glass. on it was a ti-ny key of gold, and al-ice's first thought was that this might be a key to one of the doors of the hall, but when she had tried the key in each lock, she found the locks were too large or the key was too small--it did not fit one of them. but when she went round the hall once more she came to a low cur-tain which she had not seen at first, and when she drew this back she found a small door, not much more than a foot high; she tried the key in the lock, and to her great joy it fit-ted! [illustration] al-ice found that the door led to a hall the size of a rat hole; she knelt down and looked through it in-to a gar-den of gay flow-ers. how she longed to get out of that dark hall and near those bright blooms; but she could not so much as get her head through the door; "and if my head would go through," thought al-ice, "it would be of no use, for the rest of me would still be too large to go through. oh, how i wish i could shut up small! i think i could if i knew how to start." there seemed to be no use to wait by the small door, so she went back to the stand with the hope that she might find a key to one of the large doors, or may-be a book of rules that would teach her to grow small. this time she found a small bot-tle on it ("which i am sure was not here just now," said al-ice), and tied round the neck of the bot-tle was a tag with the words "drink me" printed on it. it was all right to say "drink me," but al-ice was too wise to do that in haste: "no, i'll look first," she said, "and see if it's marked 'poi-son' or not," for she had been taught if you drink much from a bot-tle marked 'poi-son,' it is sure to make you sick. this had no such mark on it, so she dared to taste it, and as she found it nice (it had, in fact, a taste of pie, ice-cream, roast fowl, and hot toast), she soon drank it off. "how strange i feel," said al-ice. "i am sure i am not so large as i was!" and so it was; she was now not quite a foot high, and her face light-ed up at the thought that she was now the right size to go through the small door and get out to that love-ly gar-den. [illustration] poor al-ice! when she reached the door she found that she had left the key on the stand, and when she went back for it, she found she could by no means reach it. she could see it through the glass, and she tried her best to climb one of the legs of the stand, but it was too sleek, and when she was quite tired out, she sat down and cried. "come, there's no use to cry like that!" al-ice said to her-self as stern as she could speak. "i tell you to leave off at once!" soon her eyes fell on a small glass box that lay on the floor. she looked in it and found a tiny cake on which were the words "eat me," marked in grapes. "well, i'll eat it," said al-ice, "and if it makes me grow tall, i can reach the key, and if it makes me shrink up, i can creep un-der the door; so i'll get out some way." so she set to work and soon ate all the cake. chapter ii. the pool of tears. "how strange! oh my!" said al-ice, "how tall i am, and all at once, too! good-by, feet." (for when she looked down at her feet they seemed so far off, she thought they would soon be out of sight.) "oh, my poor feet, who will put on your shoes for you now, dears? i'm sure i shan't do it. i shall be a great deal too far off to take care of you; you must get on the best way you can; but i must be kind to them," thought al-ice, "or they won't walk the way i want to go! let me see: i'll give them a pair of new shoes each, christ-mas." she stopped to think how she would send them. "they must go by the mail," she thought; "and how fun-ny it'll seem to send shoes to one's own feet. how odd the ad-dress will look! al-ice's right foot, esq., hearth-rug, near the fire. (with al-ice's love.) [illustration] oh dear, there's no sense in all that." just then her head struck the roof of the hall; in fact she was now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the small key and went back to the door. poor al-ice! it was as much as she could do, when she lay down on one side, to look through to the gar-den with one eye: but to get through was not to be hoped for, so she sat down and had a good cry. "shame on you," said al-ice, "a great big girl like you" (she might well say this) "to cry in this way! stop at once, i tell you!" but she went on all the same, and shed tears till there was a large pool all round her, and which reached half way down the hall. [illustration] at last she heard the sound of feet not far off, then she dried her eyes in great haste to see who it was. it was the white rab-bit that had come back, dressed in fine clothes, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand, and a large fan in the oth-er. he trot-ted on in great haste, and talked to him-self as he came, "oh! the duch-ess, the duch-ess! oh! won't she be in a fine rage if i've made her wait?" al-ice felt so bad and so in need of help from some one, that when the rab-bit came near, she said in a low tim-id voice, "if you please, sir--" the rab-bit started as if shot, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan and ran off in-to the dark as fast as his two hind feet could take him. al-ice took up the fan and gloves and as the hall was quite hot, she fanned her-self all the time she went on talk-ing. "dear, dear! how queer all things are to-day! could i have been changed in the night? let me think: was i the same when i got up to-day? seems to me i didn't feel quite the same. but if i'm not the same, then who in the world am i?" then she thought of all the girls she knew that were of her age, to see if she could have been changed for one of them. "i'm sure i'm not a-da," she said, "for her hair is in such long curls and mine doesn't curl at all; and i'm sure i can't be ma-bel, for i know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a lit-tle! then, she's she, and i'm i, and--oh dear, how strange it all is! i'll try if i know all the things i used to know. let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thir-teen, and four times sev-en is--oh dear! that is not right. i must have been changed for ma-bel! i'll try if i know 'how doth the lit-tle--'" and she placed her hands on her lap, as if she were at school and tried to say it, but her voice was hoarse and strange and the words did not come the same as they used to do. "i'm sure those are not the right words," said poor al-ice, and her eyes filled with tears as she went on, "i must be ma-bel af-ter all, and i shall have to go and live in that po-ky house and have next to no toys to play with, and oh! such hard things to learn. no, i've made up my mind; if i'm ma-bel, i'll stay down here! it'll be no use for them to put their heads down and say, 'come up, dear!' i shall look up and say, 'who am i, then? tell me that first, and then if i like it, i'll come up; if not, i'll stay down here till i'm some one else'--but, oh dear," cried al-ice with a fresh burst of tears, "i do wish they would put their heads down! i am so tired of this place!" as she said this she looked down at her hands and saw that she had put on one of the rab-bit's white kid gloves while she was talk-ing. "how can i have done that?" she thought. "i must have grown small once more." she got up and went to the glass stand to test her height by that, and found that as well as she could guess she was now not more than two feet high, and still shrink-ing quite fast. she soon found out that the cause of this, was the fan she held and she dropped it at once, or she might have shrunk to the size of a gnat. al-ice was, at first, in a sad fright at the quick change, but glad that it was no worse. "now for the gar-den," and she ran with all her speed back to the small door; but, oh dear! the door was shut, and the key lay on the glass stand, "and things are worse than ev-er," thought the poor child, "for i nev-er was so small as this, nev-er! it's too bad, that it is!" as she said these words her foot slipped, and splash! she was up to her chin in salt wa-ter. at first she thought she must be in the sea, but she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. [illustration] "i wish i hadn't cried so much!" said al-ice as she swam round and tried to find her way out. "i shall now be drowned in my own tears. that will be a queer thing, to be sure! but all things are queer to-day." just then she heard a splash in the pool a lit-tle way off, and she swam near to make out what it was; at first she thought it must be a whale, but when she thought how small she was now, she soon made out that it was a mouse that had slipped in the pond. "would it be of an-y use now to speak to this mouse? all things are so out-of-way down here, i should think may-be it can talk, at least there's no harm to try." so she said: "o mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? i have swum here till i'm quite tired, o mouse!" the mouse looked at her and seemed to her to wink with one of its small eyes, but it did not speak. "it may be a french mouse," thought al-ice, so she said: "où est ma chatte?" (where is my cat?) which was all the french she could think of just then. the mouse gave a quick leap out of the wa-ter, and seemed in a great fright, "oh, i beg your par-don," cried al-ice. "i quite for-got you didn't like cats." "not like cats!" cried the mouse in a shrill, harsh voice. "would you like cats if you were me?" "well, i guess not," said al-ice, "but please don't get mad. and yet i wish i could show you our cat, di-nah. i'm sure you'd like cats if you could see her. she is such a dear thing," al-ice went on half to her-self as she swam round in the pool, "and she sits and purrs by the fire and licks her paws and wash-es her face--and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse--and she's a fine one to catch mice--oh, dear!" cried al-ice, for this time the mouse was in a great fright and each hair stood on end. "we won't talk of her if you don't like it." "we talk!" cried the mouse, who shook down to the end of his tail. "as if _i_ would talk of such low, mean things as cats! all rats hate them. don't let me hear the name a-gain!" "i won't," said al-ice, in great haste to change the theme. "are you fond--of--of dogs?" the mouse did not speak, so al-ice went on: "there is such a nice dog near our house, i should like to show you! a ti-ny bright-eyed dog, you know, with oh! such long cur-ly brown hair! and it'll fetch things when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its meat and do all sorts of things--i can't tell you half of them. and it kills all the rats, and m--oh dear!" cried al-ice in a sad tone, "i've made it mad a-gain!" for the mouse swam off from her as fast as it could go, and made quite a stir in the pool as it went. so she called it in a soft, kind voice, "mouse dear! do come back and we won't talk of cats or dogs if you don't like them!" when the mouse heard this it turned round and swam back to her; its face was quite pale (with rage, al-ice thought), and it said in a low, weak voice, "let us get to the shore, and then i'll tell you why it is i hate cats and dogs." it was high time to go, for the pool was by this time quite crowded with the birds and beasts that had slipped in-to it. al-ice led the way and they all swam to the shore. chapter iii. a race. they were a queer look-ing crowd as they stood or sat on the bank--the wings and tails of the birds drooped to the earth; the fur of the beasts clung close to them, and all were as wet and cross as could be. [illustration] the first thought, of course, was how to get dry. they had a long talk a-bout this, and al-ice joined with, them as if she had known them all her life. but it was hard to tell what was best. "what i want to say," at last spoke up the do-do, "is that the best thing to get us dry would be a race." "what kind of race?" asked al-ice, not that she much want-ed to know, but the do-do had paused as if it thought that some one ought to speak, and no one else would say a word. "why," said the do-do, "the best way to make it plain is to do it." (and as you might like to try the thing some cold day, i'll tell you how the do-do did it.) first it marked out a race-course in a sort of ring (it didn't care much for the shape), and then all the crowd were placed on the course, here and there. there was no "one, two, three, and here we go," but they ran when they liked and left off when they liked, so that no one could tell when the race was ended. when they had been running half an hour or so and were all quite dry, the do-do called out, "the race is o-ver!" and they all crow-ded round it and and asked, "but who has won?" this the do-do could not, at first, tell, but sat for a long time with one claw pressed to its head while the rest wait-ed, but did not speak. at last the do-do said, "all have won and each must have a prize." "but who is to give them?" all asked at once. "why, she of course," said the do-do, as it point-ed to al-ice with one long claw; and the whole par-ty at once crowd-ed round her as they called out, "a prize, a prize!" al-ice did not know what to do, but she pulled from her pock-et a box of lit-tle cakes (by a strange, good luck they did not get wet while she was in the pool) and hand-ed them round as priz-es. there was one a-piece all round. "but she must have a prize, you know," said the mouse. "of course," the do-do said. "what else have you got?" he went on as he turned to al-ice. "a thim-ble," said al-ice looking quite sad. "hand it here," said the do-do. then they all crowd-ed round her once more, while the do-do hand-ed the thim-ble back to al-ice and said, "we beg that you accept this fine thim-ble;" and when it had made this short speech they all cheered. al-ice thought the whole thing quite fool-ish, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh, and as she could not think what to say she bowed and took the thim-ble, while she looked as staid as she could. [illustration] the next thing was to eat the cakes: this caused some noise, as the large birds said they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be pat-ted on the back. it was o-ver at last and they sat down in a ring and begged the mouse to tell them a tale. "you said you would tell us why you hate cats and dogs," said al-ice. "mine is a long and a sad tale," said the mouse, as it turned to al-ice with a sigh. "it is a long tail, i'm sure," said al-ice, look-ing down at the mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" "i shall not tell you," said the mouse, as it got up and walked off. "please come back and tell us your tale," called al-ice; and all joined in, "yes, please do!" but the mouse shook its head and walked on and was soon out of sight. "i wish i had our di-nah here, i know i do!" said al-ice. "she'd soon fetch it back." "and who is di-nah, if i may dare to ask such a thing?" said one of the birds. al-ice was glad to talk of her pet. "di-nah's our cat; and she's such a fine one to catch mice, you can't think. and oh, i wish you could see her chase a bird! why she'll eat a bird as soon as look at it!" this speech caused a great stir in the par-ty. some of the birds rushed off at once; one old jay wrapped it-self up with care and said, "i must get home; the night air doesn't suit my throat!" and a wren called out to her brood, "come, my dears! it's high time you were all in bed." soon they all moved off and al-ice was left a-lone. "i wish i hadn't told them of di-nah," she said to her-self. "no one seems to like her down here, and i'm sure she's the best cat in the world! oh, my dear di-nah! shall i ev-er see you an-y more?" and here poor al-ice burst in-to tears, for she felt ver-y sad and lone-ly. in a short time she heard the pat-ter of feet, and she looked up with the hope that the mouse had changed its mind and come back to tell his "long and sad tale." chapter iv. the rab-bit sends in a bill. it was the white rab-bit who trot-ted back a-gain. it looked from side to side as it went as if it had lost some-thing; and al-ice heard it say to it-self, "the duch-ess! the duch-ess! oh, my dear paws! she'll get my head cut off as sure as rats are rats! where can i have lost them!" al-ice guessed at once that he was in search of the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and like the good girl that she was, she set out to hunt for them, but they were not to be found. all things seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool; the great hall with the glass stand and the lit-tle door--all were gone. soon the rab-bit saw al-ice and called out to her, "why, ann, what are you out here for? run home at once, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! quick, now!" and al-ice was in such a fright that she ran off and did not wait to tell it who she was. "he took me for his house-maid," she said to her-self as she ran. "what will he think when he finds out who i am! but i must take him his fan and gloves--that is if i can find them." as she said this she came to a small neat house on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name w. rab-bit on it. she ran up-stairs in great fear lest she should meet ann and be turned out of the house be-fore she had found the fan and gloves. "how queer it seems that i should do things for a rab-bit! i guess di-nah'll send me to wait on her next!" [illustration] by this time she had made her way to a ti-dy room with a ta-ble near the wall, and on it, as she had hoped, a fan and two or three pairs of small white kid gloves. she took up the fan and a pair of gloves, and turned to leave the room, when her eye fell up-on a small bot-tle that stood near. there was no tag this time with the words "drink me," but al-ice put it to her lips. "i know i am sure to change in some way, if i eat or drink any-thing; so i'll just see what this does. i do hope it'll make me grow large a-gain, for i'm quite tired of this size," al-ice said to her-self. it did as she had wished, for in a short time her head pressed the roof so hard she couldn't stand up straight. she put the bot-tle down in haste and said, "that's as much as i need--i hope i shan't grow an-y more--as it is, i can't get out at the door--i do wish i hadn't drunk so much!" but it was too late to wish that! she grew and grew, till she had to kneel down on the floor; next there was not room for this and she had to lie down. still she grew and grew and grew till she had to put one arm out the window and one foot up the chim-ney and said to her-self, "now i can do no more, let come what may." there seemed no sort of chance that she could ev-er get out of the room. "i wish i was at home," thought poor al-ice, "where i wouldn't change so much, and where i didn't have to do things for mice and rab-bits. i wish i hadn't gone down that rab-bit hole--and yet--and yet--it's queer, you know, this sort of life! when i used to read fair-y tales, i thought they were just made up by some one, and now here i am in one my-self. when i grow up i'll write a book a-bout these strange things--but i'm grown up now," she added in a sad tone, "at least there's no room to grow an-y more here." she heard a voice out-side and stopped to list-en. "ann! ann!" said the voice, "fetch me my gloves, quick!" then came the sound of feet on the stairs. al-ice knew it was the rab-bit and that it had come to look for her. she quaked with fear till she shook the house. poor thing! she didn't think that she was now more than ten times as large as the rab-bit, and that she had no cause to be a-fraid of it. soon the rab-bit came to the door and tried to come in, but al-ice's arm pressed it so hard the door would not move. al-ice heard it say, "then i'll go round and get in at the win-dow." [illustration:] "that you won't!" thought al-ice; then she wait-ed till she heard the rab-bit quite near the win-dow, then spread out her hand and made a snatch in the air. she did not get hold of it, but she heard a shriek and a fall. next came an an-gry voice--the rab-bit's--"pat! pat! where are you?" and then a voice which was new to her, "sure then, i'm here! dig-ging for apples, yer hon-or!" "dig-ging for ap-ples, in-deed!" said the rab-bit. "here! come and help me out of this! now, tell me, pat, what's that in the win-dow?" "sure it's an arm, yer hon-or" "an arm, you goose! who-ever saw one that size? why, it fills the whole win-dow!" "sure it does, yer hon-or; but it's an arm for all that." "well, it has no right there; go and take it out!" for a long time they seemed to stand still, but now and then al-ice could hear a few words in a low voice, such as, "sure i don't like it, yer hon-or, at all, at all!" "do as i tell you, you cow-ard!" and at last she spread out her hand and made a snatch in the air. this time there were two lit-tle shrieks. "i should like to know what they'll do next! as to their threats to pull me out, i on-ly wish they could. i'm sure i don't want to stay in here." she wait-ed for some time, but all was still; at last came the noise of small cart wheels and the sound of voi-ces, from which she made out the words, "where's the oth-er lad-der? why, i hadn't to bring but one; bill's got the oth-er. bill, fetch it here, lad! here, put 'em up at this place. no, tie 'em first--they don't reach half as high as they should yet--oh, they'll do. here, bill! catch hold of this rope--will the roof bear? mind that loose slate--oh, here it comes! look out. (a loud crash.)--now who did that? it was bill, i guess--who's to go down the chim-ney? nay, i shan't! you do it!--that i won't then!--bill's got to go down--here, bill, you've got to go down the chim-ney!" "oh, so bill's got to come down, has he?" said al-ice to her-self. "why, they seem to put all the work on bill. i wouldn't be in bill's place for a good deal; this fire-place is small, to be sure, but i think i can kick some." she drew her foot as far down as she could, and wait-ed till she heard a small beast (she couldn't guess of what sort it was) come scratch! scratch! down the chim-ney quite close to her; then she said to her-self: "this is bill," gave one sharp kick and wait-ed to see what would hap-pen next. [illustration] the first thing she heard was, "there goes bill!" then the rab-bit's voice, "catch him, you by the hedge!" then all was still, then the voices--"hold up his head--wine now--don't choke him--how was it, old fel-low? what sent you up so fast? tell us all a-bout it!" last came a weak voice ("that's bill," thought al-ice), "well, i don't know--no more, thank'ye, i'm not so weak now--but i'm a deal too shocked to tell you--all i know is, a thing comes at me like a jack-in-the-box, and up i goes like a rocket." "so you did, old fel-low," said the oth-ers. "we must burn the house down," said the rab-bit's voice, and al-ice called out as loud as she could, "if you do, i'll set di-nah at you!" at once all was still as death, and al-ice thought, "what will they do next? if they had an-y sense, they'd take the roof off." then she heard the rab-bit say, "one load will do to start with." "a load of what?" thought al-ice, but she had not long to doubt, for soon a show-er of small stones came in at the win-dow, and some of them hit her in the face. "i'll put a stop to this," she said to her-self, and shout-ed out, "you stop that, at once!" a-gain all was still as death. al-ice saw that the stones all changed to small cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright thought came to her. "if i eat one of these cakes," she said, "it is sure to make some change in my size; and as it can't make me larg-er, i hope it will change me to the size i used to be." so she ate one of the cakes and was glad to see that she shrank quite fast. she was soon so small that she could get through the door, so she ran out of the house and found quite a crowd of beasts and birds in the yard. the poor liz-ard, bill, was in the midst of the group, held up by two guin-ea pigs, who gave it some-thing to drink out of a bot-tle. they all made a rush at al-ice, as soon as she came out, but she ran off as hard as she could, and was soon safe in a thick wood. "the first thing i've got to do," said al-ice to her-self, as she walked round in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the next thing is to find my way to that love-ly gar-den. i think that will be the best plan." it was a fine scheme, no doubt, and well planned, but the hard thing was that she did not in the least know how she should start to work it out; and while she peered round through the trees, a sharp bark just o-ver her head made her look up in great haste. [illustration] a great pup-py looked down at her with large round eyes, stretched out one paw and tried to touch her. "poor thing!" said al-ice in a kind tone and tried hard to show it that she wished to be its friend, but she was in a sore fright, lest it should eat her up. al-ice could not think what to do next, so she picked up a bit of stick and held it out to the pup-py. it jumped from the tree with a yelp of joy as if to play with it; then al-ice dodged round a large plant that stood near, but the pup-py soon found her and made a rush at the stick a-gain, but tum-bled head o-ver heels in its haste to get hold of it. al-ice felt that it was quite like a game with a cart horse, and looked at each turn to be crushed 'neath its great feet. at last, to her joy, it seemed to grow tired of the sport and ran a good way off and sat down with its tongue out of its mouth and its big eyes half shut. this seemed to al-ice a good time to get out of its sight, so she set out at once and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the pup-py's bark sound-ed quite faint. [illustration] "and yet what a dear pup-py it was," said al-ice, as she stopped to rest and fanned her-self with a leaf: "i should have liked so much to teach it tricks, if--if i'd been the right size to do it! oh dear! i've got to grow up a-gain! let me see--how am i to do it? i guess i ought to eat or drink some-thing, but i don't know what!" al-ice looked all round her at the blades of grass, the blooms, the leaves, but could not see a thing that looked like the right thing to eat or drink to make her grow. there was a large mush-room near her, a-bout the same height as she was, and when she had looked all round it, she thought she might as well look and see what was on the top of it. she stretched up as tall as she could, and her eyes met those of a large blue cat-er-pil-lar that sat on the top with its arms fold-ed, smok-ing a queer pipe with a long stem that bent and curved round it like a hoop. chapter v. a cat-er-pil-lar tells alice what to do. the cat-er-pil-lar looked at al-ice, and she stared at it, but did not speak. at last, it took the pipe from its mouth and said, "who are you?" al-ice said, "i'm not sure, sir, who i am just now--i know who i was when i left home, but i think i have been changed two or three times since then." "what do you mean by that?" asked the cat-er-pil-lar. "i fear i can't tell you, for i'm sure i don't know, my-self; but to change so man-y times all in one day, makes one's head swim." "it doesn't," said the cat-er-pil-lar. "well, may-be you haven't found it so yet," said al-ice, "but when you have to change--you will some day, you know--i should think you'd feel it queer, won't you?" "not a bit," said the cat-er-pil-lar. "well, you may not feel as i do," said al-ice; "all i know is, it feels queer to me to change so much." "you!" said the cat-er-pil-lar with its nose in the air. "who are you?" which brought them back to the point from which they start-ed. al-ice was not pleased at this, so she said in as stern a voice as she could, "i think you ought to tell me who you are first." "why?" said the cat-er-pil-lar. as al-ice could not think what to say to this and as it did not seem to want to talk, she turned a-way. "come back!" said the cat-er-pil-lar. "i have some-thing to say to you!" al-ice turned and came back. "keep your tem-per," said the cat-er-pil-lar. "is that all?" asked al-ice, while she hid her an-ger as well as she could. "no," said the cat-er-pil-lar. al-ice wait-ed what seemed to her a long time, while it sat and smoked but did not speak. at last, it took the pipe from its mouth, and said, "so you think you're changed, do you?" "i fear i am, sir," said al-ice, "i don't know things as i once did--and i don't keep the same size, but a short while at a time." "what things is it you don't know?" "well, i've tried to say the things i knew at school, but the words all came wrong." "let me hear you say, 'you are old, fath-er wil-liam,'" said the cat-er-pil-lar. al-ice folded her hands, and be-gan:-- [illustration] "'you are old, fath-er wil-liam,' the young man said, 'and your hair has be-come ver-y white, and yet you stand all the time on your head-- do you think, at your age, it is right?' "'in my youth,' fath-er wil-liam then said to his son, 'i feared it might in-jure the brain; but now that i know full well i have none, why, i do it a-gain and a-gain.' "'you are old,' said the youth, 'shall i tell you once more? and are now quite as large as a tun; yet you turned a back som-er-set in at the door-- pray, tell me now, how was that done?' [illustration] "'in my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his gray locks. i kept all my limbs ver-y sup-ple by the use of this oint-ment--one shil-ling the box-- al-low me to sell you a coup-le.' "'you are old,' said the youth, and your jaws are too weak for an-y thing tough-er than su-et; yet you ate up the goose, with the bones and the beak: pray, how did you man-age to do it?' [illustration] "'in my youth,' said his fath-er, 'i took to the law and ar-gued each case with my wife; and the ver-y great strength, which it gave to my jaw, has last-ed the rest of my life.' "'you are old,' said the youth; 'one would hard-ly sup-pose that your eye was as stead-y as ev-er; yet you bal-ance an eel on the end of your nose-- what makes you al-ways so clev-er?' [illustration] "'i have re-plied to three ques-tions, and that is e-nough,' said the fath-er; 'don't give your-self airs! do you think i can lis-ten all day to such stuff? be off, or i'll kick you down-stairs!'" "that is not said right," said the cat-er-pil-lar. "not quite right, i fear," said al-ice, "some of the words are changed." "it is wrong from first to last," said the cat-er-pil-lar; then did not speak for some time. at last it said, "what size do you want to be?" "oh, i don't care so much as to size, but one does'nt like to change so much, you know." "i don't know," it said. al-ice was too much vexed to speak, for she had nev-er, in all her life, been talked to in that rude way. "do you like your size now?" asked the cat-er-pil-lar. "well, i'm not quite so large as i would like to be," said al-ice; "three inch-es is such a wretch-ed height to be." "it is a good height, in-deed!" said the cat-er-pil-lar, and reared it-self up straight as it spoke. (it was just three inch-es high.) "but i'm not used to it!" plead-ed poor al-ice. and she thought, "i wish the things wouldn't be so ea-sy to get mad!" "you'll get used to it in time," the cat-er-pil-lar said, and put the pipe to its mouth, and al-ice wait-ed till it should choose to speak. at last it took the pipe from its mouth, yawned once or twice, then got down from its perch and crawled off in the grass. as it went it said, "one side will make you tall, and one side will make you small. "one side of what?" thought al-ice to her-self. "of the mush-room," said the cat-er-pil-lar, just as if it had heard her speak; soon it was out of sight. al-ice stood and looked at the mush-room a long time and tried to make out which were the two sides of it; as it was round she found this a hard thing to do. at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. "and now which is which?" she said to her-self, and ate a small piece of the right-hand bit, to try what it would do. the next mo-ment she felt her chin strike her foot with a hard blow. she was in a sore fright at this quick change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost as she was shrink-ing so fast; so she set to work at once to eat some from the left hand bit. * * * * * "come, my head's free at last!" said al-ice, with great joy, which changed to fear when she found that her waist and hands were no-where to be seen. all she could see when she looked down was a vast length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far be-low her. "what can all that green stuff be?" said al-ice. "and where has my waist got to? and oh, my poor hands, how is it i can't see you?" she moved them as she spoke; the green leaves shook as if to let her know her hands were there, but she could not see them. as there seemed to be no chance to get her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them and was pleased to find that her neck would bend a-bout like a snake. just as she had curved it down and meant to dive in the sea of green, which she found was the tops of the trees 'neath which she had been walk-ing, a sharp hiss made her draw back in haste. a large bird had flown in-to her face, and struck her with its wings. "snake! snake!" screamed the bird. "i'm not a snake," said al-ice. "let me a-lone!" "snake, i say, snake!" cried the bird, then add-ed with a kind of sob, "i've tried all ways, but i can-not suit them." "i don't know what you mean," said al-ice. the bird seemed not to hear her, but went on, "i've tried the roots of trees, and i've tried banks, and i've tried a hedge; but those snakes! there's no way to please them. as if it were not hard work to hatch the eggs, but i must watch for snakes night and day! why i haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!" "it's too bad for you to be so much put out," said al-ice, who be-gan to see what it meant. "and just as i had built my nest in this high tree," the bird went on, rais-ing its voice to a shriek, "and just as i thought i should be free of them at last, they must needs fall down from the sky! ugh! snake!" "but i'm not a snake, i tell you!" said al-ice. "i'm a--i'm a--" "well! what are you?" said the bird. "i can see you will not tell me the truth!" "i--i'm a lit-tle girl," said al-ice, though she was not sure what she was when she thought of all the chang-es she had gone through that day. "i've seen girls in my time, but none with such a neck as that!" said the bird. "no! no! you're a snake; and there's no use to say you're not. i guess you'll say next that you don't eat eggs!" "of course i eat eggs," said al-ice, "but girls eat eggs quite as much as snakes do, you know." "i don't know," said the bird, "but if they do, why then they're a kind of snake, that's all i can say." this was such a new thing to al-ice that at first, she did not speak, which gave the bird a chance to add, "you want eggs now, i know that quite well." "but i don't want eggs, and if i did i should-n't want yours. i don't like them raw." "well, be off, then!" said the bird as it sat down in its nest. al-ice crouched down through the trees as well as she could, for her neck would twist round the boughs, and now and then she had to stop to get it off. at last, she thought of the mush-room in her hands, and set to work with great care, to take a small bite first from the right hand, then from the left, till at length she brought her-self down to the right size. it was so long since she had been this height, that it felt quite strange, at first, but she soon got used to it. "come, there's half my plan done now!" she said. "how strange all these things are! i'm not sure one hour, what i shall be the next! i'm glad i'm back to my right size: the next thing is, to get in-to that gar-den--how is that to be done, i should like to know?" as she said this, she saw in front of her, a small house, not more than four feet high. "who lives there?" thought al-ice, "it'll not do at all to come up-on them this size: why i should scare them out of their wits!" so she ate some of the right hand bit, a-gain and did not dare to go near the house till she had brought her-self down to nine inch-es high. chapter vi. pig and pep-per. for a while al-ice stood and looked at the house and tried to think what to do next, when a foot-man ran out of the wood (from the way he was dressed, she took him to be a foot-man; though if she had judged by his face she would have called him a fish) and knocked at the door with his fist. a foot-man with a round face and large eyes, came to the door. al-ice want-ed to know what it all meant, so she crept a short way out of the wood to hear what they said. [illustration] the fish-foot-man took from un-der his arm a great let-ter and hand-ed it to the oth-er and said in a grave tone "for the duch-ess; from the queen." the frog-foot-man said in the same grave tone, "from the queen, for the duch-ess." then they both bowed so low that their heads touched each oth-er. all this made al-ice laugh so much that she had to run back to the wood for fear they would hear her, and when she next peeped out the fish-foot-man was gone, and the oth-er sat on the ground near the door and stared up at the sky. al-ice went up to the door and knocked. "there's no sort of use for you to knock," said the foot-man, "i'm on the same side of the door that you are, and there is so much noise in the room that no one could hear you." there was, in-deed, a great noise in the house--a howl-ing and sneez-ing, with now and then a great crash, as if a dish or a pot had been bro-ken to piec-es. "please, then," said al-ice, "how am i to get in?" "there might be some sense in your knock-ing," the foot-man went on, "if we were not both on the same side of the door. if you were in the room, you might knock and i could let you out, you know." he looked up at the sky all the time he was speak-ing, which al-ice thought was quite rude. "but per-haps he can't help it," she thought, "his eyes are so near the top of his head. still he might tell me what i ask him--how am i to get in?" she asked. "i shall sit here," the foot-man said, "till to-mor-row--" just then the door of the house flew o-pen and a large plate skimmed out straight at his head; it just grazed his nose and broke on one of the trees near him. "--or next day, may-be," he went on in the same tone as if he had not seen the plate. [illustration] "how am i to get in?" al-ice asked as loud as she could speak. "are you to get in at all?" he said. "that's the first thing, you know." it was, no doubt; but al-ice didn't like to be told so. the foot-man seemed to think this a good time to say a-gain, "i shall sit here on and off, for days and days." "but what am i to do?" said al-ice. "do what you like," he said. "oh, there's no use to try to talk to him," said al-ice; "he has no sense at all." and she o-pened the door and went in. the door led right in-to a large room that was full of smoke from end to end: the duch-ess sat on a stool and held a child in her arms; the cook stood near the fire and stirred a large pot which seemed to be full of soup. "there's too much pep-per in that soup!" al-ice said to her-self as well as she could for sneez-ing. there was too much of it in the air, for the duch-ess sneezed now and then; and as for the child, it sneezed and howled all the time. a large cat sat on the hearth grin-ning from ear to ear. "please, would you tell me," said al-ice, not quite sure that it was right for her to speak first, "why your cat grins like that?" "it's a che-shire cat," said the duch-ess, "and that's why. pig!" she said the last word so loud that al-ice jumped; but she soon saw that the duch-ess spoke to the child and not to her, so she went on: "i didn't know that che-shire cats grinned; in fact, i didn't know that cats could grin." "they all can," said the duch-ess; "and most of 'em do." "i don't know of an-y that do," al-ice said, quite pleased to have some one to talk with. "you don't know much," said the duch-ess; "and that's a fact." al-ice did not at all like the tone in which this was said, and thought it would be as well to speak of some-thing else. while she tried to think of what to say, the cook took the pot from the fire, and at once set to work throw-ing things at the duch-ess and the child--the tongs came first, then pots, pans, plates and cups flew thick and fast through the air. the duch-ess did not seem to see them, e-ven when they hit her; and the child had howled so loud all the while, that one could not tell if the blows hurt it or not. "oh, please mind what you do!" cried al-ice, as she jumped up and down in great fear, lest she should be struck. "hold your tongue," said the duch-ess; then she be-gan a sort of song to the child, giv-ing it a hard shake at the end of each line. at the end of the song she threw the child at al-ice and said, "here, you may nurse it a bit if you like; i must go and get read-y to play cro-quet with the queen," and she left the room in great haste. the cook threw a pan after her as she went, but it just missed her. al-ice caught the child, which held out its arms and legs on all sides, "just like a star-fish," al-ice thought. the poor thing snort-ed like a steam en-gine when she caught it, and turned a-bout so much, it was as much as she could do at first to hold it. as soon as she found out the right way to nurse it, (which was to twist it up in a sort of knot, then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot), she took it out in the fresh air. "if i don't take this child with me," thought al-ice, "they're sure to kill it in a day or two; wouldn't it be wrong to leave it here?" she said the last words out loud, and the child grunt-ed (it had left off sneez-ing by this time). "don't grunt," said al-ice, "that is not at all the right way to do." the child grunt-ed a-gain and al-ice looked at its face to see what was wrong with it. there could be no doubt that it had a turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a child's nose. its eyes were quite small too; in fact she did not like the look of the thing at all. [illustration] "per-haps that was not a grunt, but a sob," and she looked to see if there were tears in its eyes. no, there were no tears. "if you're go-ing to turn in-to a pig, my dear," said al-ice, "i'll have no more to do with you. mind now!" the poor thing sobbed once more (or grunted, al-ice couldn't say which). "now, what am i to do with this thing when i get it home?" thought al-ice. just then it grunt-ed so loud that she looked down at its face with some fear. this time there could be no doubt a-bout it--it was a pig! so she set it down, and felt glad to see it trot off in-to the wood. as she turned to walk on, she saw the che-shire cat on the bough of a tree a few yards off. the cat grinned when it saw al-ice. it looked like a good cat, she thought; still it had long claws and large teeth, so she felt she ought to be kind to it. [illustration] "puss," said al-ice, "would you please tell me which way i ought to walk from here?" "that de-pends a good deal on where you want to go to," said the cat. "i don't much care where--" said al-ice. "then you need not care which way you walk," said the cat. "--so long as i get somewhere," al-ice add-ed. "oh, you're sure to do that if you don't stop," said the cat. al-ice knew that this was true, so she asked: "what sort of peo-ple live near here?" "in that way," said the cat, with a wave of its right paw, "lives a hat-ter; and in that way," with a wave of its left paw, "lives a march hare. go to see the one you like; they're both mad." "but i don't want to go where mad folks live," said al-ice. [illustration] "oh, you can't help that," said the cat, "we're all mad here. i'm mad. you're mad." "how do you know i'm mad!" asked al-ice. "you must be," said the cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." al-ice didn't think that proved it at all, but she went on; "and how do you know that you are mad?" "first," said the cat, "a dog's not mad. you grant that?" "yes." "well, then," the cat went on, "you know a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. now i growl when i'm pleased, and wag my tail when i'm an-gry. so you see, i'm mad." "i say the cat purrs; i do not call it a growl," said al-ice. "call it what you like," said the cat. "do you play cro-quet with the queen to-day?" "i should like it, but i haven't been asked yet," said al-ice. "you'll see me there," said the cat, then fa-ded out of sight. al-ice did not think this so queer as she was now used to strange things. while she still looked at the place where it had been, it came back a-gain, all at once. "by-the-by, what be-came of the child?" it asked. "it turned in-to a pig," al-ice said. "i thought it would," said the cat, then once more fa-ded out of sight. al-ice wait-ed a while to see if it would come back, then walked on in the way in which the march hare was said to live. "i've seen hat-ters," she said to her-self; "so i'll go to see the march hare." as she said this, she looked up, and there sat the cat on a branch of a tree. "did you say pig, or fig?" asked the cat. "i said pig; and i wish you wouldn't come and go, all at once, like you do; you make one quite gid-dy." "all right," said the cat; and this time it faded out in such a way that its tail went first, and the last thing al-ice saw was the grin which stayed some time af-ter the rest of it had gone. "well, i've seen a cat with-out a grin," thought al-ice; "but a grin with-out a cat! it's the strang-est thing i ev-er saw in all my life!" she soon came in sight of the house of the march hare; she thought it must be the right place, as the chim-neys were shaped like ears, and the roof was thatched with fur. it was so large a house, that she did not like to go too near while she was so small; so she ate a small piece from the left-hand bit of mush-room, and raised her-self to two feet high. then she walked up to the house, though with some fear lest it should be mad as the cat had said. chapter vii. a mad tea-party. there was a ta-ble set out, in the shade of the trees in front of the house, and the march hare and the hat-ter were at tea; a dor-mouse sat be-tween them, but it seemed to have gone to sleep. the ta-ble was a long one, but the three were all crowd-ed at one cor-ner of it. "no room! no room!" they cried out as soon as they saw al-ice. "there's plen-ty of room," she said, and sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. "have some wine," the march hare said in a kind tone. al-ice looked all round the ta-ble, but there was not a thing on it but tea. "i don't see the wine," she said. "there isn't an-y," said the march hare. "then it wasn't po-lite of you to ask me to have wine," said al-ice. "it wasn't po-lite of you to sit down when no one had asked you to have a seat," said the march hare. "i didn't know it was your ta-ble," said al-ice; "it's laid for more than three." "your hair wants cut-ting," said the hat-ter. he had looked hard at al-ice for some time, and this was his first speech. "you should learn not to speak to a guest like that," said al-ice; "it is ve-ry rude." the hat-ter stretched his eyes quite wide at this; but all he said was, "why is a rav-en like a desk?" [illustration] "come, we shall have some fun now," thought al-ice. "i think i can guess that," she added out loud. "do you mean that you think you can find out the an-swer to it?" asked the march hare. "i do," said al-ice. "then you should say what you mean," the march hare went on. "i do," al-ice said; "at least--at least i mean what i say--that's the same thing, you know." "not the same thing a bit!" said the hat-ter. "why, you might just as well say, 'i see what i eat' is the same thing as 'i eat what i see'!" "you might just as well say," added the march hare, that 'i like what i get' is the same thing as 'i get what i like'!" "you might just as well say," added the dor-mouse, who seemed to be talk-ing in his sleep, "that 'i breathe when i sleep' is the same thing as 'i sleep when i breathe'!" "it is the same with you," said the hat-ter. no one spoke for some time, while al-ice tried to think of all she knew of rav-ens and desks, which wasn't much. the hat-ter was the first to speak. "what day of the month is it?" he said, turn-ing to al-ice. he had his watch in his hand, looked at it and shook it now and then while he held it to his ear. al-ice thought a-while, and said, "the fourth." "two days wrong!" sighed the hat-ter. "i told you but-ter wouldn't suit this watch," he add-ed with a scowl as he looked at the march hare. "it was the best but-ter," the march hare said. "yes, but some crumbs must have got in," the hat-ter growled; "you shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife." the march hare took the watch and looked at it; then dipped it in-to his cup of tea and looked at it a-gain; but all he could think to say was, "it was the best but-ter, you know." "oh, what a fun-ny watch!" said al-ice. "it tells the day of the month and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!" "why should it?" growled the hat-ter. "does your watch tell what year it is?" "of course not," said al-ice, "but there's no need that it should, since it stays the same year such a long time." "which is just the case with mine," said the hat-ter; which seemed to al-ice to have no sense in it at all. "i don't quite know what you mean," she said. "the dor-mouse has gone to sleep, once more," said the hat-ter, and he poured some hot tea on the tip of its nose. the dor-mouse shook its head, and said with its eyes still closed, "of course, of course; just what i want-ed to say my-self." "have you guessed the rid-dle yet?" the hat-ter asked, turn-ing to al-ice. "no, i give it up," she said. "what's the an-swer?" "i do not know at all," said the hat-ter. "nor i," said the march hare. al-ice sighed. "i think you might do bet-ter with the time than to waste it, by ask-ing rid-dles that have no an-swers." "if you knew time as well as i do, you wouldn't say 'waste _it_.' it's _him_." "i don't know what you mean," al-ice said. "of course you don't!" said the hat-ter with a toss of his head. "i dare say you nev-er e-ven spoke to time." "may-be not," she said, "but i know i have to beat time when i learn to sing." "oh! that's it," said the hat-ter. "he won't stand beat-ing. now if you kept on good terms with him, he would do an-y-thing you liked with the clock. say it was nine o'clock, just time to go to school; you'd have but to give a hint to time, and round goes the clock! half-past one, time for lunch." "i wish it was," the march hare said to it-self. [illustration] "that would be grand, i'm sure," said al-ice: "but then--i shouldn't be hun-gry for it, you know." "not at first, per-haps, but you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked," said the hat-ter. "is that the way you do?" asked al-ice. the hat-ter shook his head and sighed. "not i," he said. "time and i fell out last march. it was at the great con-cert giv-en by the queen of hearts and i had to sing: 'twin-kle, twin-kle, lit-tle bat! how i wonder what you're at!' you know the song, per-haps?" "i've heard some-thing like it," said alice. "it goes on, you know," the hat-ter said, "in this way: 'up a-bove the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky, twin-kle, twin-kle----'" here the dor-mouse shook it-self and sang in its sleep, "twin-kle, twin-kle, twin-kle, twin-kle----" and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop. "well, while i sang the first verse," the hat-ter went on, "the queen bawled out 'see how he mur-ders the time! off with his head!' and ev-er since that, he won't do a thing i ask! it's al-ways six o'clock now." a bright thought came in-to al-ice's head. "is that why so man-y tea things are put out here?" she asked. "yes, that's it," said the hat-ter with a sigh: "it's al-ways tea-time, and we've no time to wash the things." "then you keep mov-ing round, i guess," said al-ice. "just so," said the hat-ter; "as the things get used up." "but when you come to the place where you started, what do you do then?" al-ice dared to ask. "i'm tired of this," yawned the march hare. "i vote you tell us a tale." "_i_ fear i don't know one," said al-ice. "i want a clean cup," spoke up the hat-ter. he moved on as he spoke, and the dor-mouse moved in-to his place; the march hare moved in-to the dor-mouse's place and al-ice, none too well pleased, took the place of the march hare. the hat-ter was the on-ly one to get an-y good from the change; and al-ice was a good deal worse off, as the march hare had up-set the milk-jug in-to his plate. "now, for your sto-ry," the march hare said to al-ice. "i'm sure i don't know,"--alice be-gan, "i--i don't think--" "then you shouldn't talk," said the hat-ter. [illustration] this was more than al-ice could stand; so she got up and walked off, and though she looked back once or twice and half hoped they would call af-ter her, they didn't seem to know that she was gone. the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the poor dor-mouse head first in-to the tea-pot. "well, i'll not go there a-gain," said al-ice as she picked her way through the wood. "it's the dull-est tea-par-ty i was ev-er at in all my life." as al-ice said this, she saw that one of the trees had a door that led right in-to it. "that's strange!" she thought; "but i haven't seen a thing to-day that isn't strange. i think i may as well go in at once." and in she went. once more she found her-self in a long hall, and close to the lit-tle glass stand. she took up the lit-tle key and un-locked the door that led to the gar-den. then she set to work to eat some of the mush-room which she still had with her. when she was a-bout a foot high, she went through the door and walked down the lit-tle hall; _then_--she found herself, at last, in the love-ly garden, where she had seen the bright blooms and the cool foun-tains. chapter viii. the queen's cro-quet ground. a large rose tree stood near the gar-den gate. the blooms on it were white, but three men who seemed to be in great haste were paint-ing them red. al-ice thought this a strange thing to do, so she went near-er to watch them. just as she came up to them, she heard one of them say, "look out now, five! don't splash paint on me like that!" "i couldn't help it," said five, "six knocked my arm." on which six looked up and said, "that's right, five! don't fail to lay the blame on some one else." "you needn't talk," said five. "i heard the queen say your head must come off." "what for?" asked the one who spoke first. "what is that to you, two?" said six. "it is much to him and i'll tell him," said five. "he brought the cook tu-lip roots for on-ions." six flung down the brush and said, "well, of all the wrong things--" just then his eyes chanced to fall on al-ice, who stood and watched them, and he checked him-self at once; five and two looked round al-so, and all of them bowed low. "would you tell me, please," said al-ice, "why you paint those ros-es?" five and six did not speak, but looked at two, who said in a low voice, "why, the fact is, you see, miss, this here ought to have been a red rose tree, and by mis-take a white one was put in, and if the queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. so you see, miss, we are hard at work to get it paint-ed, so that she may not--" just then five, who had stood and watched the gate for some time, called out, "the queen! the queen!" and the three men at once threw them-selves flat up-on their fa-ces. al-ice heard the tramp of feet and looked round, glad if at last she could see the queen. [illustration] first came ten sol-diers with clubs; these were all shaped like the three men at the rose tree, long and flat like cards, with their hands and feet at the cor-ners; next came ten men who were trimmed with di-a-monds and walked two and two like the sol-diers. the ten chil-dren of the king and queen came next; and the little dears came with a skip and a jump hand in hand by twos. they were trimmed with hearts. next came the guests, most of whom were kings and queens. al-ice saw the white rab-bit, with them. he did not seem at ease though he smiled at all that was said. he didn't see al-ice as he went by. then came the knave of hearts with the king's crown on a red vel-vet cush-ion; and last of all came the king and queen of hearts. [illustration] at first al-ice thought it might be right for her to lie down on her face like the three men at the rose tree, "but what would be the use of such a fine show," she thought, "if all had to lie down so that they couldn't see it?" so she stood where she was and wait-ed. when they came to where she stood, they all stopped and looked at her, and the queen said in a stern voice, "who is this?" she spoke to the knave of hearts, who bowed and smiled but did not speak. "fool!" said the queen with a toss of her head; then she turned to al-ice and asked, "what's your name, child?" "my name is al-ice, so please your ma-jes-ty," said al-ice, but she thought to her-self, "why they're a mere pack of cards. i need have no fears of them." "and who are these?" asked the queen, as she point-ed to the three men who still lay round the rose tree; for you see as they all lay on their faces and their backs were the same as the rest of the pack, she could not tell who they were. "how should i know?" said al-ice, and thought it strange that she should speak to a queen in that way. the queen turned red with rage, glared at her for a mo-ment like a wild beast, then screamed, "off with her head! off--" "non-sense!" said al-ice, in a loud, firm voice, and the queen said no more. the king laid his hand on the queen's arm and said, "think, my dear, she is but a child!" the queen turned from him with a scowl and said to the knave, "turn them o-ver!" the knave did so, with one foot. "get up!" said the queen in a shrill loud voice, and the three men jumped up, at once, and bowed to the king, and queen and to the whole crowd. "leave off that!" screamed the queen; "you make me gid-dy." then she turned to the rose tree and asked, "what have you been do-ing here?" "may it please your ma-jes-ty," said two, and went down on one knee as he spoke, "we were try-ing--" "i see!" said the queen, who in the mean time had seen that some of the ros-es were paint-ed red and some were still white. "off with their heads!" and the crowd moved on, while three of the sol-diers stayed to cut off the heads of the poor men, who ran to al-ice for help. "they shan't hurt you," she said, as she hid them in a large flow-er pot that stood near. the three sol-diers walked round and looked for them a short while, then marched off. "are their heads off?" shout-ed the queen. "their heads are gone, if it please your ma-jes-ty," the sol-diers shouted back. "that's right!" shouted the queen. "can you play cro-quet?" she asked al-ice. "yes," shouted al-ice. "come on then!" roared the queen, and al-ice went on with them. "it's--it's a fine day!" said a weak voice at her side. it was the white rab-bit who peeped up in-to her face. "yes," said al-ice: "where's the duch-ess?" "hush! hush!" said the rab-bit, in a low tone. he looked back as he spoke, then raised up on tip-toe, put his mouth close to her ear and whis-pered, "she's to have her head cut off." "what for?" asked al-ice. "did you say, 'what a pit-y!'?" the rab-bit asked. "no, i didn't," said al-ice: "i don't think it's at all a pit-y. i said 'what for?'" [illustration] "she boxed the queen's ears--" the rab-bit be-gan. al-ice gave a lit-tle scream of joy. "oh, hush!" the rab-bit whis-pered in a great fright. "the queen will hear you! you see she came late, and the queen said--" "each one to his place!" shout-ed the queen in a loud voice, and peo-ple ran this way and that in great haste and soon each one had found his place, and the game be-gan. al-ice thought she had nev-er seen such a strange cro-quet ground in all her life: it was all ridges; the balls were live hedge-hogs; the mal-lets were live birds, and the sol-diers bent down and stood on their hands and feet to make the arch-es. at first al-ice found it hard to use a live bird for a mal-let. it was a large bird with a long neck and long legs. she tucked it un-der her arm with its legs down, but just as she got its neck straight and thought now she could give the ball a good blow with its head, the bird would twist its neck round and give her such a queer look, that she could not help laugh-ing; and by the time she had got its head down a-gain, she found that the hedge-hog had crawled off. then too there was al-ways a ridge or a hole in the way of where she want-ed to send her ball; and she couldn't find an arch in its place, for the men would get up and walk off when it pleased them. al-ice soon made up her mind that it was a ve-ry hard game to play. the queen was soon in a great rage, and stamped a-bout, shout-ing "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" with each breath. al-ice felt quite ill at ease; to be sure, she had not as yet had cause to feel the wrath of the queen, but she knew not how soon it might be her turn; "and then," she thought, "what shall i do?" as she was look-ing round for some way to get off with-out be-ing seen, she saw a strange thing in the air, which she at last made out to be a grin, and she said to her-self, "it's the cat; now i shall have some one to talk to." "how do you do?" said the cat as soon as its whole mouth came out. al-ice wait-ed till she saw the eyes, then nod-ded. "it's no use to speak to it till its ears have come, or at least one of them." in a short time the whole head came in view, then she put down her bird and told him of the game; glad that she had some one that was pleased to hear her talk. "i don't think they are at all fair in the game," said al-ice with a scowl; "and they all talk so loud that one can't hear one's self speak--and they don't have rules to play by; at least if they have, they don't mind them--and you don't know how bad it is to have to use live things to play with. the arch i have to go through next walked off just now to the far end of the ground--and i should have struck the queen's hedge-hog, but it ran off when it saw that mine was near!" "how do you like the queen?" asked the cat in a low voice. "not at all," said al-ice, "she's so--" just then she saw that the queen was be-hind her and heard what she said; so she went on, "sure to win that it's not worth while to go on with the game." the queen smiled and passed on. "who are you talk-ing to?" said the king, as he came up to al-ice and stared at the cat's head as if it were a strange sight. "it's a friend of mine--a che-shire cat," said al-ice. "i don't like the look of it at all," said the king; "it may kiss my hand if it likes." "i don't want to," said the cat. "don't be rude; and don't look at me like that," said the king. "a cat may look at a king," said al-ice. "i've read that in some book, but i can't tell where." "well, it must get off from here," said the king in a firm voice, and he called to the queen, who was near, "my dear! i wish you would see that this cat leaves here at once!" the queen had but one cure for all ills, great or small. "off with his head," she said, and did not so much as look round. "i'll fetch the sol-dier my-self," said the king, and rushed off. al-ice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game went on. she heard the queen's voice in the dis-tance, as she screamed with rage, "off with his head! he has missed his turn!" al-ice did not like the look of things at all, for the game was so mixed she could not tell when her turn came; so she went off to find her hedge-hog. she came up with two hedge-hogs in a fierce fight, and thought now was a good time to strike one of them, but her mal-let was gone to the oth-er side of the ground, and she saw it in a weak sort of way as it tried to fly up in-to a tree. by the time she had caught the bird and brought it back, the fight was o-ver, and both hedge-hogs were out of sight. "i don't care much," thought al-ice, "for there is not an arch on this side the ground." so she went back to have some more talk with her friend. when she reached the place, she found quite a crowd round the cat. the king and the queen and the sol-dier who had come with the axe, to cut off the cat's head, were all talking at once, while all the rest stood with closed lips and looked quite grave. as soon as they saw al-ice, they want-ed her to say which one was right, but as all three spoke at once, she found it hard to make out what they said. [illustration] the sol-dier said that you couldn't cut off a head unless there was a bod-y to cut it off from; that he had nev-er had to do such a thing, and he wouldn't be-gin it now, at his time of life. the king said that all heads could be cut off, and that you weren't to talk non-sense. the queen said, if some-thing wasn't done in less than no time, heads should come off all round. (it was this last threat that had made the whole crowd look so grave as al-ice came up.) al-ice could think of nothing else to say but, "ask the duch-ess, it is her cat." "fetch her here," the queen said to the sol-dier, and he went off like an ar-row. the cat's head start-ed to fade out of sight as soon as he was gone, and by the time he had come back with the duch-ess, it could not be seen at all; so the king and the man ran up and down look-ing for it, while the rest went back to the game. chapter ix. the mock tur-tle. "you can't think how glad i am to see you once more, you dear old thing!" said the duch-ess as she took al-ice's arm, and they walked off side by side. al-ice was glad to see her in such a fine mood, and thought to her-self that the duch-ess might not be so bad as she had seemed to be when they first met. then al-ice fell in-to a long train of thought as to what she would do if she were a duch-ess. she quite lost sight of the duch-ess by her side, and was star-tled when she heard her voice close to her ear. "you have some-thing on your mind, my dear, and that makes you for-get to talk. i can't tell you just now what the mor-al of that is, but i shall think of it in a bit." "are you sure it has one?" asked al-ice. "tut, tut, child!" said the duch-ess; "all things have a mor-al if you can but find it." and she squeezed up close to al-ice's side as she spoke. al-ice did not much like to have the duch-ess keep so close, but she didn't like to be rude, so she bore it as well as she could. "the game is not so bad now," al-ice said, think-ing she ought to fill in the time with talk of some kind. "'tis so," said the duch-ess, "and the mor-al of that is--'oh, 'tis love, 'tis love, that makes the world go round!'" "some one said, it's done by each one mind-ing his own work," said al-ice. "ah! well, it means much the same thing," said the duch-ess, then add-ed, "and the mor-al of that is--'take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.'" [illustration] "how she likes to find mor-als in things," said al-ice. "why don't you talk more and not think so long?" asked the duch-ess. "i've a right to think," said al-ice in a sharp tone, for she was tired and vexed. "just as much right," said the duch-ess, "as pigs have to fly; and the mor--" but here the voice of the duch-ess died out in the midst of her pet word, "mor-al," and al-ice felt the arm that was linked in hers shake as if with fright. al-ice looked up and there stood the queen in front of them with her arms fold-ed, and a dark frown up-on her face. "a fine day, your ma-jes-ty!" the duch-ess be-gan in a weak voice. "now, i warn you in time," shout-ed the queen, with a stamp on the ground as she spoke; "ei-ther you or your head must be off, and that in a-bout half no time! take your choice!" the duch-ess took her choice and was gone in a mo-ment. "let's go on with the game," the queen said to al-ice; and al-ice was in too great a fright to speak, but went with her, back to the cro-quet ground. the guests had all sat down in the shade to rest while the queen was a-way, but as soon as they saw her they rushed back to the game; while the queen said if they were not in their pla-ces at once, it would cost them their lives. all the time the game went on the queen kept shout-ing, "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" so that by the end of half an hour there was no one left on the grounds but the king, the queen, and al-ice. then the queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to al-ice, "have you seen the mock tur-tle yet?" "no," said al-ice, "i don't know what a mock-tur-tle is." "it is a thing mock tur-tle soup is made from," the queen said. "i've nev-er seen or heard of one," alice said. "come on then, and he shall tell you his sto-ry," said the queen. as they walked off, al-ice heard the king say in a low tone to those whom the queen had doomed to death, "you may all go free!" "come, that's a good thing," thought al-ice, for she felt ver-y sad that all those men must have their heads cut off. [illustration] they soon came to where a gry-phon lay fast a-sleep in the sun. (if you don't know what it is like, look at the pic-ture.) "up, dull thing!" said the queen, "and take this young la-dy to see the mock tur-tle. i must go back now;" and she walked a-way and left al-ice with the gry-phon. al-ice was by no means pleased with its looks, but she thought she would be quite as safe with it as she would be with the queen; so she wait-ed. the gry-phon sat up and rubbed its eyes; then watched the queen till she was out of sight; then it laughed. "what fun!" it said, half to it-self, half to alice. "what is the fun?" she asked. "why, _she_," it said. "it's all a whim of hers; they nev-er cut off those heads, you know. come on." soon they saw the mock tur-tle sitting sad and lone on a ledge of rock, and as they came near, al-ice could hear him sigh as if his heart would break. "what makes him so sad?" al-ice asked. "it's all a whim of his," said the gry-phon; "he hasn't got no grief, you know. come on!" [illustration] so they went up to the mock tur-tle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but did not speak. "this here young la-dy," said the gry-phon, "she wants for to know a-bout your past life, she do." "i'll tell it to her," said the mock tur-tle in a deep, sad tone: "sit down both of you and don't speak a word till i get through." so they sat down, and no one spoke for some time. "once," said the mock tur-tle at last, with a deep sigh, "i was a re-al tur-tle. when we were young we went to school in the sea. we were taught by an old tur-tle--we used to call him tor-toise--" "why did you call him tor-toise, if he wasn't one?" al-ice asked. "he taught us, that's why," said the mock tur-tle: "you are quite dull not to know that!" "shame on you to ask such a sim-ple thing," add-ed the gry-phon; then they both sat and looked at poor al-ice, who felt as if she could sink into the earth. at last the gry-phon said to the mock tur-tle, "drive on, old fellow! don't be all day a-bout it!" and he went on in these words: "yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't think it's true--" "i didn't say i did not!" said al-ice. "you did," said the mock tur-tle. "hold your tongue," add-ed the gry-phon. the mock tur-tle went on: "we were well taught--in fact we went to school each day--" "i've been to a day school too," said alice; "you needn't be so proud as all that." "were you taught wash-ing?" asked the mock tur-tle. "of course not," said al-ice. "ah! then yours wasn't a good school," said the mock tur-tle. "now at _ours_ they had at the end of the bill, 'french, mu-sic, and wash-ing--ex-tra.'" "you couldn't have need-ed it much in the sea," said al-ice. "i didn't learn it," said the mock tur-tle, with a sigh. "i just took the first course." "what was that?" asked al-ice. "reel-ing and writh-ing, of course, at first," the mock tur-tle said. "an old eel used to come once a week. he taught us to drawl, to stretch and to faint in coils." "what was that like?" al-ice asked. "well, i can't show you, my-self," he said: "i'm too stiff. and the gry-phon didn't learn it." "how man-y hours a day did you do les-sons?" asked al-ice. "ten hours the first day," said the mock tur-tle; "nine the next and so on." "what a strange plan!" said al-ice. "that's why they're called les-sons," said the gry-phon: "they les-sen from day to day." this was such a new thing to al-ice that she sat still a good while and didn't speak. "then there would be a day when you would have no school," she said. "of course there would," said the mock tur-tle. "what did you do then?" asked al-ice. "i'm tired of this," said the gry-phon: "tell her now of the games we played." chapter x. the lob-ster dance. the mock tur-tle sighed, looked at al-ice and tried to speak, but for a min-ute or two sobs choked his voice. "same as if he had a bone in his throat," said the gry-phon, and set to work to shake him and punch him in the back. at last the mock tur-tle found his voice and with tears run-ning down his cheeks, he went on: [illustration] "you may not have lived much in the sea"--("i have-n't," said al-ice) "so you can not know what a fine thing a lob-ster dance is!" "no," said al-ice. "what sort of a dance is it?" "why," said the gry-phon, "you first form in a line on the sea-shore--" "two lines!" cried the mock tur-tle. "seals, tur-tles, and so on; then when you've cleared all the small fish out of the way--" "that takes some time," put in the gry-phon. "you move to the front twice--" "each with a lob-ster by his side!" cried the gry-phon. "of course," the mock tur-tle said: "move to the front twice--" "change and come back in same way," said the gry-phon. "then, you know," the mock tur-tle went on, "you throw the--" "the lob-sters!" shout-ed the gry-phon, with a bound in-to the air. "as far out to sea as you can--" "swim out for them," screamed the gry-phon. "turn heels o-ver head in the sea!" cried the mock tur-tle. "change a-gain!" yelled the gry-phon at the top of his voice. "then back to land, and--that's all the first part," said the mock tur-tle. both the gry-phon and the mock tur-tle had jumped a-bout like mad things all this time. now they sat down quite sad and still, and looked at al-ice. "it must be a pret-ty dance," said al-ice. "would you like to see some of it?" asked the mock tur-tle. "oh, yes," she said. "come, let's try the first part!" said the mock tur-tle to the gry-phon. "we can do it without lob-sters, you know. which shall sing?" "oh, _you_ sing," said the gry-phon. "i don't know the words." so they danced round and round al-ice, now and then tread-ing on her toes when they passed too close. they waved their fore paws to mark the time, while the mock tur-tle sang a queer kind of song, each verse of which end-ed with these words: "'will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?'" "thank you, it's a fine dance to watch," said al-ice, glad that it was o-ver at last. "now," said the gry-phon, "tell us a-bout what you have seen and done in your life." "i could tell you of the strange things i have seen to-day," said al-ice, with some doubt as to their wish-ing to hear it. "all right, go on," they both cried. so al-ice told them what she had been through that day, from the time when she first saw the white rab-bit. they came up quite close to her, one on each side, and sat still till she got to the part where she tried to say, "you are old, fath-er wil-liam," and the words all came wrong. then the mock tur-tle drew a long breath and said, "that's quite strange!" "it's all as strange as it can be," said the gry-phon. "it all came wrong!" the mock tur-tle said, while he seemed to be in deep thought. "i should like to hear her try to say some-thing now. tell her to be-gin." he looked at the gry-phon as if he thought it had the right to make al-ice do as it pleased. [illustration] "stand up and say, 'tis the voice of the slug-gard,'" said the gry-phon. "how they do try to make one do things!" thought al-ice. "i might just as well be at school at once." she stood up and tried to re-peat it, but her head was so full of the lob-ster dance, that she didn't know what she was say-ing, and the words all came ver-y queer, in-deed: "'tis the voice of the lob-ster; i heard him de-clare, 'you have baked me too brown, i must su-gar my hair.' as a duck with its eye-lids, so he with his nose trims his belt and his but-tons, and turns out his toes." "that's not the way i used to say it when i was a child," said the gry-phon. "well, i never heard it before," said the mock tur-tle, "but there's no sense in it at all." al-ice did not speak; she sat down with her face in her hands, and thought, "will things nev-er be as they used to an-y more?" "i should like you to tell what it means," said the mock tur-tle. "she can't do that," said the gry-phon. "go on with the next verse." "but his toes?" the mock tur-tle went on. "how could he turn them out with his nose, you know?" "go on with the next verse," the gry-phon said once more; "it begins 'i passed by his gar-den.'" al-ice thought she must do as she was told, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on: "i passed by his gar-den and marked with one eye, how the owl and the oys-ter were shar-ing the pie." "what _is_ the use of say-ing all that stuff!" the mock tur-tle broke in, "if you don't tell what it means as you go on? i tell you it is all non-sense." "yes, i think you might as well leave off," said the gry-phon, and al-ice was but too glad to do so. "shall we try the lob-ster dance once more?" the gry-phon went on, "or would you like the mock tur-tle to sing you a song?" "oh, a song please, if the mock tur-tle would be so kind," al-ice said with so much zest that the gry-phon threw back his head and said, "hm! well, each one to his own taste. sing her 'tur-tle soup,' will you, old fel-low?" the mock tur-tle heaved a deep sigh, and in a voice choked with sobs, be-gan his song, but just then the cry of "the tri-al is on!" was heard a long way off. "come on," cried the gry-phon. he took her by the hand, ran off, and did not wait to hear the song. "what trial is it?" al-ice pant-ed as she ran, but the gry-phon on-ly said, "come on!" and still ran as fast as he could. chapter xi. who stole the tarts? the king and queen of hearts were seat-ed on their throne when al-ice and the gry-phon came up, with a great crowd a-bout them. there were all sorts of small birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards. the knave stood in front of them in chains, with a sol-dier on each side to guard him; and near the king was the white rab-bit, with a trum-pet in one hand and a roll of pa-per in the other. in the mid-dle of the court was a ta-ble with a large dish of tarts on it. they looked so good that it made al-ice feel as if she would like to eat some of them. "i wish they'd get the tri-al done," she thought, "and hand round the pies!" but there seemed no chance of this, so to pass the time a-way she looked round at the strange things a-bout her. this was the first time al-ice had been in a court of this kind, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the names of most things she saw there. "that's the judge," she thought, "i know him by his great wig." the judge, by the way, was the king, and as he wore his crown on top of his wig, he looked quite ill at ease. "and that's the ju-ry box," thought al-ice, "and those twelve things" (she had to say "things," you see, for some of them were beasts and some were birds), "i guess are the ju-rors." she said this last word two or three times as she was proud that she knew it; for she was right when she thought that few girls of her age would have known what it all meant. the twelve ju-rors all wrote on slates. "what can they have to write now?" al-ice asked the gry-phon, in a low tone. "the tri-al has not be-gun yet." "they're put-ting down their names," the gry-phon said, "for fear they should for-get them." "stu-pid things!" al-ice said in a loud voice, but stopped at once, for the white rab-bit cried out, "si-lence in court!" and the king looked round to make out who spoke. al-ice could see quite well that the ju-rors all wrote down "stu-pid things!" on their slates, she could e-ven make out that one of them didn't know how to spell "stu-pid" and that he asked the one by his side to tell him, "a nice mud-dle their slates will be in by the time the tri-al's ended," thought al-ice. one of the ju-rors had a pen-cil that squeaked as he wrote. this, of course, al-ice could _not_ stand, so she went round near him, and soon found a chance to get it from him. this she did in such a way that the poor ju-ror (it was bill, the liz-ard) could not make out at all where it was, so he wrote with one fin-ger for the rest of the day. of course, this was of no use, as it left no mark on the slate. "read the charge!" said the king. on this the white rab-bit blew three blasts on the trum-pet, and then from the pa-per in his hand read: "the queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a sum-mer day: the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite a-way!" "the ju-ry will now take the case," said the king. "not yet, not yet!" the rab-bit said in haste. "there is a great deal else to come first." [illustration] "call the first wit-ness," said the king, and the white rab-bit blew three blasts on the trum-pet, and called out, "first wit-ness." the first to come was the hat-ter. he came in with a tea cup in one hand and a piece of bread and but-ter in the oth-er. "i beg par-don, your ma-jes-ty," he said, "but i had to bring these in, as i was not quite through with my tea when i was sent for." "you ought to have been through," said the king. "when did you be-gin?" the hat-ter looked at the march hare, who had just come in-to court, arm in arm with the dor-mouse. "fourth of march, i think it was," he said. "fifth," said the march hare. "sixth," add-ed the dor-mouse. "write that down," said the king to the ju-ry, and they wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up and changed the sum to shil-lings and pence. "take off your hat," the king said to the hat-ter. "it isn't mine," said the hat-ter. "stole it!" cried the king, as he turned to the jury, who at once wrote it down. "i keep them to sell," the hat-ter added. "i've none of my own. i'm a hat-ter." here the queen put on her eye-glass-es and stared hard at the hat-ter, who turned pale with fright. "tell what you know of this case," said the king; "and don't be nerv-ous, or i'll have your head off on the spot." this did not seem to calm him at all, he shift-ed from one foot to the other and looked at the queen, and in his fright he bit a large piece out of his tea-cup in place of the bread and but-ter. just then al-ice felt a strange thrill, the cause of which she could not make out till she saw she had be-gun to grow a-gain. "i wish you wouldn't squeeze so," said the dor-mouse. "i haven't room to breathe." "i can't help it," said al-ice; "i'm grow-ing." "you've no right to grow here," said the dor-mouse. "don't talk such non-sense," said al-ice. "you know you grow too." "yes, but not so fast as to squeeze the breath out of those who sit by me." he got up and crossed to the oth-er side of the court. all this time the queen had not left off star-ing at the hat-ter, and just as the dor-mouse crossed the court, she said to one of the men, "bring me the list of those who sang in the last con-cert," on which the poor hat-ter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off. [illustration] "tell what you know of this case," the king called out a-gain, "or i'll have your head off, if you do shake." "i'm a poor man, your ma-jes-ty," the hat-ter be-gan in a weak voice, "and i hadn't but just be-gun my tea, not more than a week or so, and what with the bread and but-ter so thin--and the twink-ling of the tea--" "the twink-ling of what?" asked the king. "it be-gan with the tea," the hat-ter said. "of course twink-ling be-gins with a t!" said the king. "do you take me for a dunce? go on!" "i'm a poor man," the hat-ter went on, "and most things twink-led af-ter that--but the march hare said--" "i didn't," said the march hare in great haste. "you did," said the hat-ter. "i de-ny it," said the march hare. "he de-nies it," said the king: "leave out that part." "well, i'm sure the dor-mouse said--" the hat-ter went on, with a look at the dor-mouse to see if he would de-ny it too, but he was fast a-sleep. "then i cut some more bread and--" "but what did the dor-mouse say?" asked one of the ju-ry. "that i can't tell," said the hat-ter. "you must tell or i'll have your head off," said the king. the wretch-ed hat-ter dropped his cup and bread, and went down on one knee. "i'm a poor man," he be-gan. "you're a poor speak-er," said the king. here one of the guin-ea pigs cheered, and one of the men seized him, thrust him in-to a bag which tied up with strings, and then sat up-on it. "if that's all you know, you may stand down," the king said. "i'm as low as i can get now," said the hat-ter; "i'm on the floor as it is." "then you may sit down," the king said. "i'd like to get through with my tea first," said the hat-ter with a look at the queen who still read the list in her hand. "you may go," said the king, and the hat-ter left the court in such haste that he did not e-ven wait to put his shoes on. "and just take his head off out-side," the queen add-ed to one of the sol-diers, but the hat-ter was out of sight be-fore the man could get to the door. "call the next wit-ness," said the king. the next to come was the duch-ess' cook, and al-ice guessed who it was by the way the peo-ple near the door sneezed all at once. [illustration] "tell what you know of this case," said the king. "shan't," said the cook. the king looked at the white rab-bit, who said in a low voice, "your ma-jes-ty must make her tell." "well, if i must, i must," said the king with a sad look. he fold-ed his arms and frowned at the cook till his eyes were al-most out of sight, then asked in a stern voice, "what are tarts made of?" "pep-per, most-ly," said the cook. "sug-ar," said a weak voice near her. "catch that dor-mouse," the queen shrieked out. "off with his head! turn him out of court! pinch him! off with his head!" the whole court ran here and there, get-ting the dor-mouse turned out, and by the time this was done, the cook had gone. "that's all right," said the king, as if he were glad to be rid of her. "call the next," and he add-ed in a low tone to the queen, "now, my dear, you must take the next wit-ness in hand; it quite makes my head ache!" al-ice watched the white rab-bit as he looked o-ver the list. she thought to her-self, "i want to see what the next witness will be like, for they haven't found out much yet." think, if you can, how she felt when the white rab-bit read out, at the top of his shrill lit-tle voice, the name "al-ice!" chapter xii. al-ice on the stand. "here!" cried al-ice, but she quite for-got how large she had grown in the last few min-utes, and jumped up in such haste that the edge of her skirt tipped the ju-ry box and turned them all out on the heads of the crowd be-low; and there they lay sprawl-ing a-bout, which made her think of a globe of gold-fish which she had up-set the week be-fore. [illustration] "oh, i beg your par-don!" she said, and picked them up and put them backed in the ju-ry box as fast as she could. "the tri-al can not go on," said the king in a grave voice, "till all the men are back in place--all," he said with great force and looked hard at al-ice. she looked at the ju-ry box and saw that in her haste she had put the liz-ard in head first and the poor thing was wav-ing its tail in the air, but could not move. she soon got it out and put it right; "not that it mat-ters much," she thought; "i should think it would be quite as much use in the tri-al one way up as the oth-er." [illustration] as soon as their slates and pen-cils had been hand-ed back to them, the ju-ry set to work to write out an ac-count of their fall, all but the liz-ard, who seem-ed too weak to write, but sat and gazed up in-to the roof of the court. "what do you know of this case?" the king asked al-ice. "not one thing," said al-ice. "not one thing, at all?" asked the king. "not one thing, at all," said al-ice. "write that down," the king said to the ju-ry. the king sat for some time and wrote in his note-book, then he called out, "si-lence!" and read from his book, "rule for-ty-two. each one more than a mile high to leave the court." all looked at al-ice. "i'm not a mile high," said al-ice. "you are," said the king. "not far from two miles high," add-ed the queen. "well, i shan't go," said al-ice, "for i know that's a new rule you have just made." "it's the first rule in the book," said the king. "then it ought to be rule one," said al-ice. the king turned pale and shut his note-book at once. "the ju-ry can now take the case," he said in a weak voice. "there's more to come yet, please your ma-jes-ty," said the white rab-bit, as he jumped up; "this thing has just been picked up." "what's in it?" asked the queen. "i haven't read it yet," said the white rab-bit, "but it seems to be a note from the knave of hearts to some one." "whose name is on it?" said one of the ju-rors. "there's no name on it," said the white rab-bit; he looked at it with more care as he spoke, and add-ed, "it isn't a note at all; it's a set of rhymes." "please your ma-jes-ty," said the knave, "i didn't write it, and they can't prove that i did; there's no name signed at the end." "if you didn't sign it," said the king, "that makes your case worse. you must have meant some harm or you'd have signed your name like an hon-est man." all clapped their hands at this as it was the first smart thing the king had said that day. "that proves his guilt," said the queen. "it does not prove a thing," said al-ice, "why you don't so much as know what the rhymes are." "read them," said the king. "where shall i be-gin, your ma-jes-ty?" the white rab-bit asked. "why at the first verse, of course," the king said look-ing quite grave, "and go on till you come to the end; then stop." the white rab-bit read: "they told me you had been to her, and spoke of me to him: she gave me a good name, in-deed, but said i could not swim. "he sent them word that i had gone (we know it to be true): if she should push the mat-ter on what would be-come of you? "i gave her one, they gave him two, you gave us three, or more; they all came back from him to you, though they were mine be-fore. "my no-tion was, she liked him best, (be-fore she had this fit) this must be kept from all the rest but him and you and it." "that's the best thing we've heard yet," said the king, rub-bing his hands as if much pleased; "so now let the ju-ry--" "if one of you can tell what it means," said al-ice (she had grown so large by this time that she had no fear of the king) "i should be glad to hear it. i don't think there's a grain of sense in it." the ju-ry all wrote down on their slates, "she doesn't think there's a grain of sense in it." but no one tried to tell what it meant. "if there's no sense in it," said the king, "that saves a world of work, you know, as we needn't try to find it. and yet i don't know," he went on, as he spread out the rhymes on his knee, and looked at them with one eye: "i seem to find some sense in them--'said i could not swim'--you can't swim, can you?" he added, turn-ing to the knave. the knave shook his head with a sigh. "do i look like it?" he said. (which it was plain he did not, as he was made of card board.) "all right, so far," said the king, and he went on: "'we know it to be true'--that's the ju-ry, of course--'i gave her one, they gave him two'--that must be what he did with the tarts, you know--" "but it goes on, 'they all came back from him to you,'" said al-ice. "why, there they are," said the king, point-ing to the tarts. "isn't that as clear as can be? then it goes on, 'before she had this fit'--you don't have fits, my dear, i think?" he said to the queen. [illustration] "no! no!" said the queen in a great rage, throw-ing an ink-stand at the liz-ard as she spoke. "then the words don't fit you," he said, and looked round the court with a smile. but no one spoke. "it's a pun," he added in a fierce tone, then all the court laughed. "let the ju-ry now bring in their verdict," the king said. "no! no!" said the queen. "sen-tence first--then the ver-dict." "such stuff!" said al-ice out loud. "of course the ju-ry must make--" "hold your tongue!" screamed the queen. "i won't!" said al-ice. "off with her head!" shout-ed the queen at the top of her voice. no one moved. "who cares for you?" said al-ice. (she had grown to her full size by this time.) "you are noth-ing but a pack of cards!" at this the whole pack rose up in the air and flew down up-on her; she gave a lit-tle scream and tried to beat them off--and found her-self ly-ing on the bank with her head in the lap of her sis-ter, who was brush-ing a-way some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees on to her face. "wake up, al-ice dear," said her sis-ter; "why what a long sleep you have had!" "oh, i've had such a strange dream!" said al-ice, and then she told her sis-ter as well as she could all these strange things that you have just read a-bout; and when she came to the end of it, her sis-ter kissed her and said: "it was a strange dream, dear, i'm sure; but run now in to your tea; it's get-ting late." so al-ice got up and ran off, think-ing while she ran, as well she might, what a won-der-ful dream it had been. =burt's series of one syllable books= = titles. handsome illuminated cloth binding.= a series of classics, selected specially for young people's reading, and told in simple language for youngest readers. printed from large type, with many illustrations. * * * * * =price cents per volume.= * * * * * =aesop's fables.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. by mary godolphin. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =alice's adventures in wonderland.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. by mrs. j.c. gorham. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =andersen's fairy tales.= (selections.) retold in words of one syllable for young people. by harriet t. comstock. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =bible heroes.= told in words of one syllable for young people. by harriet t. comstock. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =black beauty.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. by mrs. j.c. gorham. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =grimm's fairy tales.= (selections.) retold in words of one syllable. by jean s. rÉmy. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =gulliver's travels= into several remote regions of the work. retold in words of one syllable for young people. by j.c.g. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =life of christ.= told in words of one syllable for young people. by jean s. rÉmy. with many illustrations. illuminated cloth. =lives of the presidents.= told in words of one syllable for young people. by jean s. rÉmy. with large portraits. illuminated cloth. =pilgrim's progress.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. by samuel phillips day. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =reynard the fox:= the crafty courtier. retold in words of one syllable for young people. by samuel phillips day. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =robinson crusoe.= his life and surprising adventures retold in words of one syllable for young people. by mary a. schwacofer. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =sanford and merton.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. by mary godolphin. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. =swiss family robinson.= retold in words of one syllable for young people. adapted from the original. with illustrations. illuminated cloth. * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, =a.l. burt company, - duane street, new york.= alice's adventures under ground _being a facsimile of the_ _original ms. book_ _afterwards developed into_ "_alice's adventures in wonderland_" by lewis carroll _with thirty-seven illustrations by the author_ _price four shillings_ london macmillan and co. and new york * * * * * contents. chapter i. down the rabbit-hole. the pool of tears ii. a long tale. the rabbit sends in a little bill iii. advice from a caterpillar iv. the queen's croquet-ground. the mock turtle's story. the lobster quadrille. who stole the tarts? * * * * * chapter [illustration] alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, and where is the use of a book, thought alice, without pictures or conversations? so she was considering in her own mind, (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid,) whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain was worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. there was nothing very remarkable in that, nor did alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the rabbit say to itself "dear, dear! i shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, looked at it, and then hurried on, alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket or a watch to take out of it, and, full of curiosity, she hurried across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. in a moment down went alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. the rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly, that alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself, before she found herself falling down what seemed a deep well. either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her, and to wonder what would happen next. first, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything: then, she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves: here and there were maps and pictures hung on pegs. she took a jar down off one of the shelves as she passed: it was labelled "orange marmalade," but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar, for fear of killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. "well!" thought alice to herself, "after such a fall as this, i shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! how brave they'll all think me at home! why, i wouldn't say anything about it, even if i fell off the top of the house!" (which was most likely true.) down, down, down. would the fall never come to an end? "i wonder how many miles i've fallen by this time?" she said aloud, "i must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, i think--" (for you see alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity of showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to hear her, still it was good practice to say it over,) "yes that's the right distance, but then what longitude or latitude-line shall i be in?" (alice had no idea what longitude was, or latitude either, but she thought they were nice grand words to say.) presently she began again: "i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth! how funny it'll be to come out among the people that walk with their heads downwards! but i shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. please, ma'am, is this new zealand or australia?"--and she tried to curtsey as she spoke (fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! do you think you could manage it?) "and what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! no, it'll never do to ask: perhaps i shall see it written up somewhere." down, down, down: there was nothing else to do, so alice soon began talking again. "dinah will miss me very much tonight, i should think!" (dinah was the cat.) "i hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time! oh, dear dinah, i wish i had you here! there are no mice in the air, i'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know, my dear. but do cats eat bats, i wonder?" and here alice began to get rather sleepy, and kept on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way "do cats eat bats? do cats eat bats?" and sometimes, "do bats eat cats?" for, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. she felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with dinah, and was saying to her very earnestly, "now, dinah, my dear, tell me the truth. did you ever eat a bat?" when suddenly, bump! bump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and shavings, and the fall was over. alice was not a bit hurt, and jumped on to her feet directly: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the white rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. there was not a moment to be lost: away went alice like the wind, and just heard it say, as it turned a corner, "my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!" she turned the corner after it, and instantly found herself in a long, low hall, lit up by a row of lamps which hung from the roof. [illustration] there were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked, and when alice had been all round it, and tried them all, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again: suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing lying upon it, but a tiny golden key, and alice's first idea was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall, but alas! either the locks were too large, or the key too small, but at any rate it would open none of them. however, on the second time round, she came to a low curtain, behind which was a door about eighteen inches high: she tried the little key in the keyhole, and it fitted! alice opened the door, and looked down a small passage, not larger than a rat-hole, into the loveliest garden you ever saw. how she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway, "and even if my head would go through," thought poor alice, "it would be very little use without my shoulders. oh, how i wish i could shut up like a telescope! i think i could, if i only knew how to begin." for, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that alice began to think very few things indeed were really impossible. there was nothing else to do, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting up people like telescopes: this time there was a little bottle on it--"which certainly was not there before" said alice--and tied round the neck of the bottle was a paper label with the words drink me beautifully printed on it in large letters. it was all very well to say "drink me," "but i'll look first," said the wise little alice, "and see whether the bottle's marked "poison" or not," for alice had read several nice little stories about children that got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts, and other unpleasant things, because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had given them, such as, that, if you get into the fire, it will burn you, and that, if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it generally bleeds, and she had never forgotten that, if you drink a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. however, this bottle was not marked poison, so alice tasted it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffy, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. * * * * * "what a curious feeling!" said alice, "i must be shutting up like a telescope." it was so indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up as it occurred to her that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. first, however, she waited for a few minutes to see whether she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this, "for it might end, you know," said alice to herself, "in my going out altogether, like a candle, and what should i be like then, i wonder?" and she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember having ever seen one. however, nothing more happened so she decided on going into the garden at once, but, alas for poor alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for the key, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it plainly enough through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery, and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried. [illustration] "come! there's no use in crying!" said alice to herself rather sharply, "i advise you to leave off this minute!" (she generally gave herself very good advice, and sometimes scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes, and once she remembered boxing her own ears for having been unkind to herself in a game of croquet she was playing with herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people,) "but it's no use now," thought poor alice, "to pretend to be two people! why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!" soon her eyes fell on a little ebony box lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which was lying a card with the words eat me beautifully printed on it in large letters. "i'll eat," said alice, "and if it makes me larger, i can reach the key, and if it makes me smaller, i can creep under the door, so either way i'll get into the garden, and i don't care which happens!" she ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself "which way? which way?" and laid her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure this is what generally happens when one eats cake, but alice had got into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the way things to happen, and it seemed quite dull and stupid for things to go on in the common way. so she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. * * * * * "curiouser and curiouser!" cried alice, (she was so surprised that she quite forgot how to speak good english,) "now i'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! goodbye, feet!" (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed almost out of sight, they were getting so far off,) "oh, my poor little feet, i wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? i'm sure i can't! i shall be a great deal too far off to bother myself about you: you must manage the best way you can--but i must be kind to them," thought alice, "or perhaps they won't walk the way i want to go! let me see: i'll give them a new pair of boots every christmas." [illustration] and she went on planning to herself how she would manage it "they must go by the carrier," she thought, "and how funny it'll seem, sending presents to one's own feet! and how odd the directions will look! alice's right foot, esq. the carpet, with alice's love oh dear! what nonsense i am talking!" just at this moment, her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact, she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key, and hurried off to the garden door. poor alice! it was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye, but to get through was more hopeless than ever: she sat down and cried again. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said alice, "a great girl like you," (she might well say this,) "to cry in this way! stop this instant, i tell you!" but she cried on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool, about four inches deep, all round her, and reaching half way across the hall. after a time, she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and dried her eyes to see what was coming. it was the white rabbit coming back again, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand, and a nosegay in the other. alice was ready to ask help of any one, she felt so desperate, and as the rabbit passed her, she said, in a low, timid voice, "if you please, sir--" the rabbit started violently, looked up once into the roof of the hall, from which the voice seemed to come, and then dropped the nosegay and the white kid gloves, and skurried away into the darkness, as hard as it could go. [illustration] alice took up the nosegay and gloves, and found the nosegay so delicious that she kept smelling at it all the time she went on talking to herself--"dear, dear! how queer everything is today! and yesterday everything happened just as usual: i wonder if i was changed in the night? let me think: was i the same when i got up this morning? i think i remember feeling rather different. but if i'm not the same, who in the world am i? ah, that's the great puzzle!" and she began thinking over all the children she knew of the same age as herself, to see if she could have been changed for any of them. "i'm sure i'm not gertrude," she said, "for her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn't go in ringlets at all--and i'm sure i ca'n't be florence, for i know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very little! besides, she's she, and i'm i, and--oh dear! how puzzling it all is! i'll try if i know all the things i used to know. let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven is fourteen--oh dear! i shall never get to twenty at this rate! but the multiplication table don't signify--let's try geography. london is the capital of france, and rome is the capital of yorkshire, and paris--oh dear! dear! that's all wrong, i'm certain! i must have been changed for florence! i'll try and say "how doth the little,"" and she crossed her hands on her lap, and began, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not sound the same as they used to do: "how doth the little crocodile improve its shining tail, and pour the waters of the nile on every golden scale! "how cheerfully it seems to grin! how neatly spreads its claws! and welcomes little fishes in with gently-smiling jaws!" "i'm sure those are not the right words," said poor alice, and her eyes filled with tears as she thought "i must be florence after all, and i shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! no! i've made up my mind about it: if i'm florence, i'll stay down here! it'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying 'come up, dear!' i shall only look up and say 'who am i then? answer me that first, and then, if i like being that person, i'll come up: if not, i'll stay down here till i'm somebody else--but, oh dear!" cried alice with a sudden burst of tears, "i do wish they would put their heads down! i am so tired of being all alone here!" as she said this, she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to find she had put on one of the rabbit's little gloves while she was talking. "how can i have done that?" thought she, "i must be growing small again." she got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: soon she found out that the reason of it was the nosegay she held in her hand: she dropped it hastily, just in time to save herself from shrinking away altogether, and found that she was now only three inches high. "now for the garden!" cried alice, as she hurried back to the little door, but the little door was locked again, and the little gold key was lying on the glass table as before, and "things are worse than ever!" thought the poor little girl, "for i never was as small as this before, never! and i declare it's too bad, it is!" [illustration] at this moment her foot slipped, and splash! she was up to her chin in salt water. her first idea was that she had fallen into the sea: then she remembered that she was under ground, and she soon made out that it was the pool of tears she had wept when she was nine feet high. "i wish i hadn't cried so much!" said alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out, "i shall be punished for it now, i suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! well! that'll be a queer thing, to be sure! however, every thing is queer today." very soon she saw something splashing about in the pool near her: at first she thought it must be a walrus or a hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was herself, and soon made out that it was only a mouse, that had slipped in like herself. "would it be any use, now," thought alice, "to speak to this mouse? the rabbit is something quite out-of-the-way, no doubt, and so have i been, ever since i came down here, but that is no reason why the mouse should not be able to talk. i think i may as well try." so she began: "oh mouse, do you know how to get out of this pool? i am very tired of swimming about here, oh mouse!" the mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing. [illustration] "perhaps it doesn't understand english," thought alice; "i daresay it's a french mouse, come over with william the conqueror!" (for, with all her knowledge of history, alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened,) so she began again: "où est ma chatte?" which was the first sentence out of her french lesson-book. the mouse gave a sudden jump in the pool, and seemed to quiver with fright: "oh, i beg your pardon!" cried alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings, "i quite forgot you didn't like cats!" "not like cats!" cried the mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice, "would you like cats if you were me?" "well, perhaps not," said alice in a soothing tone, "don't be angry about it. and yet i wish i could show you our cat dinah: i think you'd take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. she is such a dear quiet thing," said alice, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, "she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face: and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse, and she's such a capital one for catching mice--oh! i beg your pardon!" cried poor alice again, for this time the mouse was bristling all over, and she felt certain that it was really offended, "have i offended you?" "offended indeed!" cried the mouse, who seemed to be positively trembling with rage, "our family always hated cats! nasty, low, vulgar things! don't talk to me about them any more!" "i won't indeed!" said alice, in a great hurry to change the conversation, "are you--are you--fond of--dogs?" the mouse did not answer, so alice went on eagerly: "there is such a nice little dog near our house i should like to show you! a little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh! such long curly brown hair! and it'll fetch things when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts of things--i ca'n't remember half of them--and it belongs to a farmer, and he says it kills all the rats and--oh dear!" said alice sadly, "i'm afraid i've offended it again!" for the mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went. so she called softly after it: "mouse dear! do come back again, and we won't talk about cats and dogs any more, if you don't like them!" when the mouse heard this, it turned and swam slowly back to her: its face was quite pale, (with passion, alice thought,) and it said in a trembling low voice "let's get to the shore, and then i'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is i hate cats and dogs." it was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite full of birds and animals that had fallen into it. there was a duck and a dodo, a lory and an eaglet, and several other curious creatures. alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. [illustration] chapter ii [illustration] they were indeed a curious looking party that assembled on the bank--the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them--all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. the first question of course was, how to get dry: they had a consultation about this, and alice hardly felt at all surprised at finding herself talking familiarly with the birds, as if she had known them all her life. indeed, she had quite a long argument with the lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say "i am older than you, and must know best," and this alice would not admit without knowing how old the lory was, and as the lory positively refused to tell its age, there was nothing more to be said. at last the mouse, who seemed to have some authority among them, called out "sit down, all of you, and attend to me! i'll soon make you dry enough!" they all sat down at once, shivering, in a large ring, alice in the middle, with her eyes anxiously fixed on the mouse, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. "ahem!" said the mouse, with a self-important air, "are you all ready? this is the driest thing i know. silence all round, if you please! "william the conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by the english, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria--" "ugh!" said the lory with a shiver. "i beg your pardon?" said the mouse, frowning, but very politely, "did you speak?" "not i!" said the lory hastily. "i thought you did," said the mouse, "i proceed. edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria, declared for him; and even stigand, the patriotic archbishop of canterbury, found it advisable to go with edgar atheling to meet william and offer him the crown. william's conduct was at first moderate--how are you getting on now, dear?" said the mouse, turning to alice as it spoke. "as wet as ever," said poor alice, "it doesn't seem to dry me at all." "in that case," said the dodo solemnly, rising to his feet, "i move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies--" "speak english!" said the duck, "i don't know the meaning of half those long words, and what's more, i don't believe you do either!" and the duck quacked a comfortable laugh to itself. some of the other birds tittered audibly. "i only meant to say," said the dodo in a rather offended tone, "that i know of a house near here, where we could get the young lady and the rest of the party dried, and then we could listen comfortably to the story which i think you were good enough to promise to tell us," bowing gravely to the mouse. the mouse made no objection to this, and the whole party moved along the river bank, (for the pool had by this time began to flow out of the hall, and the edge of it was fringed with rushes and forget-me-nots,) in a slow procession, the dodo leading the way. after a time the dodo became impatient, and, leaving the duck to bring up the rest of the party, moved on at a quicker pace with alice, the lory, and the eaglet, and soon brought them to a little cottage, and there they sat snugly by the fire, wrapped up in blankets, until the rest of the party had arrived, and they were all dry again. then they all sat down again in a large ring on the bank, and begged the mouse to begin his story. "mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the mouse, turning to alice, and sighing. "it is a long tail, certainly," said alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse's tail, which was coiled nearly all round the party, "but why do you call it sad?" and she went on puzzling about this as the mouse went on speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this: we lived beneath the mat warm and snug and fat but one woe, & that was the cat! to our joys a clog, in our eyes a fog, on our hearts a log was the dog! when the cat's away, then the mice will play, but, alas! one day, (so they say) came the dog and cat, hunting for a rat, crushed the mice all flat; each one as he sat. u n d e r n e a t h t h e m a t , m r a w g u n s & t a f & t h i n k? o f t h a t! "you are not attending!" said the mouse to alice severely, "what are you thinking of?" "i beg your pardon," said alice very humbly, "you had got to the fifth bend, i think?" "i had not!" cried the mouse, sharply and very angrily. "a knot!" said alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking anxiously about her, "oh, do let me help to undo it!" "i shall do nothing of the sort!" said the mouse, getting up and walking away from the party, "you insult me by talking such nonsense!" "i didn't mean it!" pleaded poor alice, "but you're so easily offended, you know." the mouse only growled in reply. "please come back and finish your story!" alice called after it, and the others all joined in chorus "yes, please do!" but the mouse only shook its ears, and walked quickly away, and was soon out of sight. "what a pity it wouldn't stay!" sighed the lory, and an old crab took the opportunity of saying to its daughter "ah, my dear! let this be a lesson to you never to lose your temper!" "hold your tongue, ma!" said the young crab, a little snappishly, "you're enough to try the patience of an oyster!" "i wish i had our dinah here, i know i do!" said alice aloud, addressing no one in particular, "she'd soon fetch it back!" "and who is dinah, if i might venture to ask the question?" said the lory. [illustration] alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet, "dinah's our cat. and she's such a capital one for catching mice, you can't think! and oh! i wish you could see her after the birds! why, she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!" this answer caused a remarkable sensation among the party: some of the birds hurried off at once; one old magpie began wrapping itself up very carefully, remarking "i really must be getting home: the night air does not suit my throat," and a canary called out in a trembling voice to its children "come away from her, my dears, she's no fit company for you!" on various pretexts, they all moved off, and alice was soon left alone. [illustration] she sat for some while sorrowful and silent, but she was not long before she recovered her spirits, and began talking to herself again as usual: "i do wish some of them had stayed a little longer! and i was getting to be such friends with them--really the lory and i were almost like sisters! and so was that dear little eaglet! and then the duck and the dodo! how nicely the duck sang to us as we came along through the water: and if the dodo hadn't known the way to that nice little cottage, i don't know when we should have got dry again--" and there is no knowing how long she might have prattled on in this way, if she had not suddenly caught the sound of pattering feet. it was the white rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about it as it went, as if it had lost something, and she heard it muttering to itself "the marchioness! the marchioness! oh my dear paws! oh my fur and whiskers! she'll have me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! where can i have dropped them, i wonder?" alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the nosegay and the pair of white kid gloves, and she began hunting for them, but they were now nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and her walk along the river-bank with its fringe of rushes and forget-me-nots, and the glass table and the little door had vanished. soon the rabbit noticed alice, as she stood looking curiously about her, and at once said in a quick angry tone, "why, mary ann! what are you doing out here? go home this moment, and look on my dressing-table for my gloves and nosegay, and fetch them here, as quick as you can run, do you hear?" and alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once, without saying a word, in the direction which the rabbit had pointed out. she soon found herself in front of a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name w. rabbit, esq. she went in, and hurried upstairs, for fear she should meet the real mary ann and be turned out of the house before she had found the gloves: she knew that one pair had been lost in the hall, "but of course," thought alice, "it has plenty more of them in its house. how queer it seems to be going messages for a rabbit! i suppose dinah'll be sending me messages next!" and she began fancying the sort of things that would happen: "miss alice! come here directly and get ready for your walk!" "coming in a minute, nurse! but i've got to watch this mousehole till dinah comes back, and see that the mouse doesn't get out--" "only i don't think," alice went on, "that they'd let dinah stop in the house, if it began ordering people about like that!" [illustration] by this time she had found her way into a tidy little room, with a table in the window on which was a looking-glass and, (as alice had hoped,) two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up a pair of gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass: there was no label on it this time with the words "drink me," but nonetheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips: "i know something interesting is sure to happen," she said to herself, "whenever i eat or drink anything, so i'll see what this bottle does. i do hope it'll make me grow larger, for i'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!" [illustration] it did so indeed, and much sooner than she expected: before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and she stooped to save her neck from being broken, and hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself "that's quite enough--i hope i sha'n't grow any more--i wish i hadn't drunk so much!" [illustration] alas! it was too late: she went on growing and growing, and very soon had to kneel down: in another minute there was not room even for this, and she tried the effect of lying down, with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. still she went on growing, and as a last resource she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself "now i can do no more--what will become of me?" luckily for alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger; still it was very uncomfortable, and as there seemed to be no sort of chance of ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy. "it was much pleasanter at home," thought poor alice, "when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits--i almost wish i hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole, and yet, and yet--it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life. i do wonder what can have happened to me! when i used to read fairy-tales, i fancied that sort of thing never happened, and now here i am in the middle of one! there out to be a book written about me, that there ought! and when i grow up i'll write one--but i'm grown up now" said she in a sorrowful tone, "at least there's no room to grow up any more here." [illustration] "but then," thought alice, "shall i never get any older than i am now? that'll be a comfort, one way--never to be an old woman--but then--always to have lessons to learn! oh, i shouldn't like that!" "oh, you foolish alice!" she said again, "how can you learn lessons in here? why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all for any lesson-books!" and so she went on, taking first one side, and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether, but after a few minutes she heard a voice outside, which made her stop to listen. "mary ann! mary ann!" said the voice, "fetch me my gloves this moment!" then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs: alice knew it was the rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. presently the rabbit came to the door, and tried to open it, but as it opened inwards, and alice's elbow was against it, the attempt proved a failure. alice heard it say to itself "then i'll go round and get in at the window." "that you wo'n't!" thought alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she heard the rabbit, just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. she did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall and a crash of breaking glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. [illustration] next came an angry voice--the rabbit's--"pat, pat! where are you?" and then a voice she had never heard before, "shure then i'm here! digging for apples, anyway, yer honour!" "digging for apples indeed!" said the rabbit angrily, "here, come and help me out of this!"--sound of more breaking glass. "now, tell me, pat, what is that coming out of the window?" "shure it's an arm, yer honour!" (he pronounced it "arrum".) "an arm, you goose! who ever saw an arm that size? why, it fills the whole window, don't you see?" "shure, it does, yer honour, but it's an arm for all that." "well, it's no business there: go and take it away!" there was a long silence after this, and alice could only hear whispers now and then, such as "shure i don't like it, yer honour, at all at all!" "do as i tell you, you coward!" and at last she spread out her hand again and made another snatch in the air. this time there were two little shrieks, and more breaking glass--"what a number of cucumber-frames there must be!" thought alice, "i wonder what they'll do next! as for pulling me out of the window, i only wish they could! i'm sure i don't want to stop in here any longer!" she waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cart-wheels, and the sound of a good many voices all talking together: she made out the words "where's the other ladder?--why, i hadn't to bring but one, bill's got the other--here, put 'em up at this corner--no, tie 'em together first--they don't reach high enough yet--oh, they'll do well enough, don't be particular--here, bill! catch hold of this rope--will the roof bear?--mind that loose slate--oh, it's coming down! heads below!--" (a loud crash) "now, who did that?--it was bill, i fancy--who's to go down the chimney?--nay, i sha'n't! you do it!--that i won't then--bill's got to go down--here, bill! the master says you've to go down the chimney!" "oh, so bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said alice to herself, "why, they seem to put everything upon bill! i wouldn't be in bill's place for a good deal: the fireplace is a pretty tight one, but i think i can kick a little!" she drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess what sort it was) scratching and scrambling in the chimney close above her: then, saying to herself "this is bill," she gave one sharp kick, and waited again to see what would happen next. [illustration] the first thing was a general chorus of "there goes bill!" then the rabbit's voice alone "catch him, you by the hedge!" then silence, and then another confusion of voices, "how was it, old fellow? what happened to you? tell us all about it." last came a little feeble squeaking voice, ("that's bill" thought alice,) which said "well, i hardly know--i'm all of a fluster myself--something comes at me like a jack-in-the-box, and the next minute up i goes like a rocket!" "and so you did, old fellow!" said the other voices. "we must burn the house down!" said the voice of the rabbit, and alice called out as loud as she could "if you do, i'll set dinah at you!" this caused silence again, and while alice was thinking "but how can i get dinah here?" she found to her great delight that she was getting smaller: very soon she was able to get up out of the uncomfortable position in which she had been lying, and in two or three minutes more she was once more three inches high. she ran out of the house as quick as she could, and found quite a crowd of little animals waiting outside--guinea-pigs, white mice, squirrels, and "bill" a little green lizard, that was being supported in the arms of one of the guinea-pigs, while another was giving it something out of a bottle. they all made a rush at her the moment she appeared, but alice ran her hardest, and soon found herself in a thick wood. [illustration] chapter iii [illustration] "the first thing i've got to do," said alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size, and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. i think that will be the best plan." it sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged: the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it, and while she was peering anxiously among the trees round her, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry. an enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to reach her: "poor thing!" said alice in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it, but she was terribly alarmed all the while at the thought that it might be hungry, in which case it would probably devour her in spite of all her coaxing. hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy: whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once, and with a yelp of delight rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it then alice dodged behind a great thistle to keep herself from being run over, and, the moment she appeared at the other side, the puppy made another dart at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold: then alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again: then the puppy begin a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. this seemed to alice a good opportunity for making her escape. she set off at once, and ran till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance, and till she was quite tired and out of breath. "and yet what a dear little puppy it was!" said alice, as she leant against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with her hat. "i should have liked teaching it tricks, if--if i'd only been the right size to do it! oh! i'd nearly forgotten that i've got to grow up again! let me see; how _is_ it to be managed? i suppose i ought to eat or drink something or other, but the great question is what?" the great question certainly was, what? alice looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass but could not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat under the circumstances. there was a large mushroom near her, about the same height as herself, and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her to look and see what was on the top of it. she stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, which was sitting with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the least notice of her or of anything else. [illustration] for some time they looked at each other in silence: at last the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and languidly addressed her. "who are you?" said the caterpillar. this was not an encouraging opening for a conversation: alice replied rather shyly, "i--i hardly know, sir, just at present--at least i know who i was when i got up this morning, but i think i must have been changed several times since that." "what do you mean by that?" said the caterpillar, "explain yourself!" "i ca'n't explain myself, i'm afraid, sir," said alice, "because i'm not myself, you see." "i don't see," said the caterpillar. "i'm afraid i can't put it more clearly," alice replied very politely, "for i ca'n't understand it myself, and really to be so many different sizes in one day is very confusing." "it isn't," said the caterpillar. "well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said alice, "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis, you know, and then after that into a butterfly, i should think it'll feel a little queer, don't you think so?" "not a bit," said the caterpillar. "all i know is," said alice, "it would feel queer to me." "you!" said the caterpillar contemptuously, "who are you?" which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation: alice felt a little irritated at the caterpillar making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said very gravely "i think you ought to tell me who you are, first." "why?" said the caterpillar. here was another puzzling question: and as alice had no reason ready, and the caterpillar seemed to be in a very bad temper, she turned round and walked away. "come back!" the caterpillar called after her, "i've something important to say!" this sounded promising: alice turned and came back again. "keep your temper," said the caterpillar. "is that all?" said alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. "no," said the caterpillar. alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all the caterpillar might tell her something worth hearing. for some minutes it puffed away at its hookah without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said "so you think you're changed, do you?" "yes, sir," said alice, "i ca'n't remember the things i used to know--i've tried to say "how doth the little busy bee" and it came all different!" "try and repeat "you are old, father william"," said the caterpillar. alice folded her hands, and began: [illustration] . "you are old, father william," the young man said, "and your hair is exceedingly white: and yet you incessantly stand on your head-- do you think, at your age, it is right?" . "in my youth," father william replied to his son, "i feared it might injure the brain but now that i'm perfectly sure i have none, why, i do it again and again." [illustration] . "you are old," said the youth, "as i mentioned before, and have grown most uncommonly fat: yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-- pray what is the reason of that?" . "in my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks, "i kept all my limbs very supple, by the use of this ointment, five shillings the box-- allow me to sell you a couple." [illustration] . "you are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak for anything tougher than suet: yet you eat all the goose, with the bones and the beak-- pray, how did you manage to do it?" . "in my youth," said the old man, "i took to the law, and argued each case with my wife, and the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, has lasted the rest of my life." [illustration] . "you are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose that your eye was as steady as ever: yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- what made you so awfully clever?" . "i have answered three questions, and that is enough," said his father, "don't give yourself airs! do you think i can listen all day to such stuff? be off, or i'll kick you down stairs!" "that is not said right," said the caterpillar. "not quite right, i'm afraid," said alice timidly, "some of the words have got altered." "it is wrong from beginning to end," said the caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes: the caterpillar was the first to speak. "what size do you want to be?" it asked. "oh, i'm not particular as to size," alice hastily replied, "only one doesn't like changing so often, you know." "are you content now?" said the caterpillar. "well, i should like to be a little larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind," said alice, "three inches is such a wretched height to be." "it is a very good height indeed!" said the caterpillar loudly and angrily, rearing itself straight up as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). "but i'm not used to it!" pleaded poor alice in a piteous tone, and she thought to herself "i wish the creatures wouldn't be so easily offended!" "you'll get used to it in time," said the caterpillar, and it put the hookah into its mouth, and began smoking again. this time alice waited quietly until it chose to speak again: in a few minutes the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and got down off the mushroom, and crawled away into the grass, merely remarking as it went; "the top will make you grow taller, and the stalk will make you grow shorter." "the top of what? the stalk of what?" thought alice. "of the mushroom," said the caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud, and in another moment was out of sight. alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, and then picked it and carefully broke it in two, taking the stalk in one hand, and the top in the other. [illustration] "which does the stalk do?" she said, and nibbled a little bit of it to try; the next moment she felt a violent blow on her chin: it had struck her foot! she was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but as she did not shrink any further, and had not dropped the top of the mushroom, she did not give up hope yet. there was hardly room to open her mouth, with her chin pressing against her foot, but she did it at last, and managed to bite off a little bit of the top of the mushroom. * * * * * "come! my head's free at last!" said alice in a tone of delight, which changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders were nowhere to be seen: she looked down upon an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her. [illustration] "what can all that green stuff be?" said alice, "and where have my shoulders got to? and oh! my poor hands! how is it i ca'n't see you?" she was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except a little rustling among the leaves. then she tried to bring her head down to her hands, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in every direction, like a serpent. she had just succeeded in bending it down in a beautiful zig-zag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be the tops of the trees of the wood she had been wandering in, when a sharp hiss made her draw back: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was violently beating her with its wings. [illustration] "serpent!" screamed the pigeon. "i'm not a serpent!" said alice indignantly, "let me alone!" "i've tried every way!" the pigeon said desperately, with a kind of sob: "nothing seems to suit 'em!" "i haven't the least idea what you mean," said alice. "i've tried the roots of trees, and i've tried banks, and i've tried hedges," the pigeon went on without attending to her, "but them serpents! there's no pleasing 'em!" alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything till the pigeon had finished. "as if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs!" said the pigeon, "without being on the look out for serpents, day and night! why, i haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!" "i'm very sorry you've been annoyed," said alice, beginning to see its meaning. "and just as i'd taken the highest tree in the wood," said the pigeon raising its voice to a shriek, "and was just thinking i was free of 'em at last, they must needs come down from the sky! ugh! serpent!" "but i'm not a serpent," said alice, "i'm a--i'm a--" "well! what are you?" said the pigeon, "i see you're trying to invent something." "i--i'm a little girl," said alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through. "a likely story indeed!" said the pigeon, "i've seen a good many of them in my time, but never one with such a neck as yours! no, you're a serpent, i know that well enough! i suppose you'll tell me next that you never tasted an egg!" "i have tasted eggs, certainly," said alice, who was a very truthful child, "but indeed i do'n't want any of yours. i do'n't like them raw." "well, be off, then!" said the pigeon, and settled down into its nest again. alice crouched down among the trees, as well as she could, as her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and several times she had to stop and untwist it. soon she remembered the pieces of mushroom which she still held in her hands, and set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual size. it was so long since she had been of the right size that it felt quite strange at first, but she got quite used to it in a minute or two, and began talking to herself as usual: "well! there's half my plan done now! how puzzling all these changes are! i'm never sure what i'm going to be, from one minute to another! however, i've got to my right size again: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden--how is that to be done, i wonder?" just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a doorway leading right into it. "that's very curious!" she thought, "but everything's curious today: i may as well go in." and in she went. once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass table: "now, i'll manage better this time" she said to herself, and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led into the garden. then she set to work eating the pieces of mushroom till she was about fifteen inches high: then she walked down the little passage: and then--she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flowerbeds and the cool fountains. [illustration] chapter iv [illustration] a large rose tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. this alice thought a very curious thing, and she went near to watch them, and just as she came up she heard one of them say "look out, five! don't go splashing paint over me like that!" "i couldn't help it," said five in a sulky tone, "seven jogged my elbow." on which seven lifted up his head and said "that's right, five! always lay the blame on others!" "you'd better not talk!" said five, "i heard the queen say only yesterday she thought of having you beheaded!" "what for?" said the one who had spoken first. "that's not your business, two!" said seven. "yes, it is his business!" said five, "and i'll tell him: it was for bringing in tulip-roots to the cook instead of potatoes." seven flung down his brush, and had just begun "well! of all the unjust things--" when his eye fell upon alice, and he stopped suddenly; the others looked round, and all of them took off their hats and bowed low. "would you tell me, please," said alice timidly, "why you are painting those roses?" five and seven looked at two, but said nothing: two began, in a low voice, "why, miss, the fact is, this ought to have been a red rose tree, and we put a white one in by mistake, and if the queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off. so, you see, we're doing our best, before she comes, to--" at this moment five, who had been looking anxiously across the garden called out "the queen! the queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. there was a sound of many footsteps, and alice looked round, eager to see the queen. first came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, flat and oblong, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were all ornamented with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. after these came the royal children: there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along, hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented with hearts. next came the guests, mostly kings and queens, among whom alice recognised the white rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. then followed the knave of hearts, carrying the king's crown on a cushion, and, last of all this grand procession, came the king and queen of hearts. [illustration] when the procession came opposite to alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the queen said severely "who is this?" she said it to the knave of hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. "idiot!" said the queen, turning up her nose, and asked alice "what's your name?" "my name is alice, so please your majesty," said alice boldly, for she thought to herself "why, they're only a pack of cards! i needn't be afraid of them!" "who are these?" said the queen, pointing to the three gardeners lying round the rose tree, for, as they were lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. "how should i know?" said alice, surprised at her own courage, "it's no business of mine." the queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a minute, began in a voice of thunder "off with her--" "nonsense!" said alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the queen was silent. the king laid his hand upon her arm, and said timidly "remember, my dear! she is only a child!" the queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the knave "turn them over!" the knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. "get up!" said the queen, in a shrill loud voice, and the three gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the king, the queen, the royal children, and everybody else. "leave off that!" screamed the queen, "you make me giddy." and then, turning to the rose tree, she went on "what have you been doing here?" "may it please your majesty," said two very humbly, going down on one knee as he spoke, "we were trying--" "i see!" said the queen, who had meantime been examining the roses, "off with their heads!" and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers remaining behind to execute the three unfortunate gardeners, who ran to alice for protection. "you sha'n't be beheaded!" said alice, and she put them into her pocket: the three soldiers marched once round her, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. "are their heads off?" shouted the queen. "their heads are gone," the soldiers shouted in reply, "if it please your majesty!" "that's right!" shouted the queen, "can you play croquet?" the soldiers were silent, and looked at alice, as the question was evidently meant for her. "yes!" shouted alice at the top of her voice. "come on then!" roared the queen, and alice joined the procession, wondering very much what would happen next. "it's--it's a very fine day!" said a timid little voice: she was walking by the white rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. "very," said alice, "where's the marchioness?" "hush, hush!" said the rabbit in a low voice, "she'll hear you. the queen's the marchioness: didn't you know that?" "no, i didn't," said alice, "what of?" "queen of hearts," said the rabbit in a whisper, putting its mouth close to her ear, "and marchioness of mock turtles." "what are they?" said alice, but there was no time for the answer, for they had reached the croquet-ground, and the game began instantly. alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in all her life: it was all in ridges and furrows: the croquet-balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live ostriches, and the soldiers had to double themselves up, and stand on their feet and hands, to make the arches. [illustration] [illustration] the chief difficulty which alice found at first was to manage her ostrich: she got its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck straightened out nicely, and was going to give a blow with its head, it would twist itself round, and look up into her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very confusing to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or a furrow in her way, wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. the players all played at once without waiting for turns, and quarrelled all the while at the tops of their voices, and in a very few minutes the queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about and shouting "off with his head!" of "off with her head!" about once in a minute. all those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that, by the end of half an hour or so, there were no arches left, and all the players, except the king, the queen, and alice, were in custody, and under sentence of execution. then the queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to alice "have you seen the mock turtle?" "no," said alice, "i don't even know what a mock turtle is." "come on then," said the queen, "and it shall tell you its history." as they walked off together, alice heard the king say in a low voice, to the company generally, "you are all pardoned." "come, that's a good thing!" thought alice, who had felt quite grieved at the number of executions which the queen had ordered. [illustration] they very soon came upon a gryphon, which lay fast asleep in the sun: (if you don't know what a gryphon is, look at the picture): "up, lazy thing!" said the queen, "and take this young lady to see the mock turtle, and to hear its history. i must go back and see after some executions i ordered," and she walked off, leaving alice with the gryphon. alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it quite as safe to stay as to go after that savage queen: so she waited. the gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the queen till she was out of sight: then it chuckled. "what fun!" said the gryphon, half to itself, half to alice. "what is the fun?" said alice. "why, she," said the gryphon; "it's all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know: come on!" "everybody says 'come on!' here," thought alice as she walked slowly after the gryphon; "i never was ordered about so before in all my life--never!" they had not gone far before they saw the mock turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, alice could here it sighing as if its heart would break. she pitied it deeply: "what is its sorrow?" she asked the gryphon, and the gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, "it's all its fancy, that: it hasn't got no sorrow, you know: come on!" [illustration] so they went up to the mock turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing. "this here young lady" said the gryphon, "wants for to know your history, she do." "i'll tell it," said the mock turtle, in a deep hollow tone, "sit down, and don't speak till i've finished." so they sat down, and no one spoke for some minutes: alice thought to herself "i don't see how it can ever finish, if it doesn't begin," but she waited patiently. "once," said the mock turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "i was a real turtle." these words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation of "hjckrrh!" from the gryphon, and the constant heavy sobbing of the mock turtle. alice was very nearly getting up and saying, "thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could not help thinking there must be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing. "when we were little," the mock turtle went on, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea. the master was an old turtle--we used to call him tortoise--" "why did you call him tortoise, if he wasn't one?" asked alice. "we called him tortoise because he taught us," said the mock turtle angrily, "really you are very dull!" "you ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question," added the gryphon, and then they both sat silent and looked at poor alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth: at last the gryphon said to the mock turtle, "get on, old fellow! don't be all day!" and the mock turtle went on in these words: "you may not have lived much under the sea--" ("i haven't," said alice,) "and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster--" (alice began to say "i once tasted--" but hastily checked herself, and said "no, never," instead,) "so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a lobster quadrille is!" "no, indeed," said alice, "what sort of a thing is it?" "why," said the gryphon, "you form into a line along the sea shore--" "two lines!" cried the mock turtle, "seals, turtles, salmon, and so on--advance twice--" "each with a lobster as partner!" cried the gryphon. [illustration] "of course," the mock turtle said, "advance twice, set to partners--" "change lobsters, and retire in same order--" interrupted the gryphon. "then, you know," continued the mock turtle, "you throw the--" "the lobsters!" shouted the gryphon, with a bound into the air. "as far out to sea as you can--" "swim after them!" screamed the gryphon. "turn a somersault in the sea!" cried the mock turtle, capering wildly about. "change lobsters again!" yelled the gryphon at the top of its voice, "and then--" "that's all," said the mock turtle, suddenly dropping its voice, and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at alice. "it must be a very pretty dance," said alice timidly. "would you like to see a little of it?" said the mock turtle. "very much indeed," said alice. "come, let's try the first figure!" said the mock turtle to the gryphon, "we can do it without lobsters, you know. which shall sing?" "oh! you sing!" said the gryphon, "i've forgotten the words." [illustration] so they began solemnly dancing round and round alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they came too close, and waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the mock turtle sang, slowly and sadly, these words: "beneath the waters of the sea are lobsters thick as thick can be-- they love to dance with you and me, my own, my gentle salmon!" the gryphon joined in singing the chorus, which was: "salmon come up! salmon go down! salmon come twist your tail around! of all the fishes of the sea there's none so good as salmon!" "thank you," said alice, feeling very glad that the figure was over. "shall we try the second figure?" said the gryphon, "or would you prefer a song?" "oh, a song, please!" alice replied, so eagerly, that the gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, "hm! no accounting for tastes! sing her 'mock turtle soup', will you, old fellow!" the mock turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this: "beautiful soup, so rich and green, waiting in a hot tureen! who for such dainties would not stoop? soup of the evening, beautiful soup! soup of the evening, beautiful soup! beau--ootiful soo--oop! beau--ootiful soo--oop! soo--oop of the e--e--evening, beautiful beautiful soup! "chorus again!" cried the gryphon, and the mock turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry of "the trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance. "come on!" cried the gryphon, and, taking alice by the hand, he hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song. "what trial is it?" panted alice as she ran, but the gryphon only answered "come on!" and ran the faster, and more and more faintly came, borne on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words: "soo--oop of the e--e--evening, beautiful beautiful soup!" the king and queen were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled around them: the knave was in custody: and before the king stood the white rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. "herald! read the accusation!" said the king. on this the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows: [illustration] "the queen of hearts she made some tarts all on a summer day: the knave of hearts he stole those tarts, and took them quite away!" [illustration] "now for the evidence," said the king, "and then the sentence." "no!" said the queen, "first the sentence, and then the evidence!" "nonsense!" cried alice, so loudly that everybody jumped, "the idea of having the sentence first!" "hold your tongue!" said the queen. "i won't!" said alice, "you're nothing but a pack of cards! who cares for you?" at this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her: she gave a little scream of fright, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some leaves that had fluttered down from the trees on to her face. "wake up! alice dear!" said her sister, "what a nice long sleep you've had!" "oh, i've had such a curious dream!" said alice, and she told her sister all her adventures under ground, as you have read them, and when she had finished, her sister kissed her and said "it was a curious dream, dear, certainly! but now run in to your tea: it's getting late." so alice ran off, thinking while she ran (as well she might) what a wonderful dream it had been. * * * * * but her sister sat there some while longer, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little alice and her adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream: she saw an ancient city, and a quiet river winding near it along the plain, and up the stream went slowly gliding a boat with a merry party of children on board--she could hear their voices and laughter like music over the water--and among them was another little alice, who sat listening with bright eager eyes to a tale that was being told, and she listened for the words of the tale, and lo! it was the dream of her own little sister. so the boat wound slowly along, beneath the bright summer-day, with its merry crew and its music of voices and laughter, till it passed round one of the many turnings of the stream, and she saw it no more. then she thought, (in a dream within the dream, as it were,) how this same little alice would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman: and how she would keep, through her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather around her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a wonderful tale, perhaps even with these very adventures of the little alice of long-ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days. [illustration] happy summer days. the end. * * * * * _postscript._ _the profits, if any, of this book will be given to children's hospitals and convalescent homes for sick children; and the accounts, down to june in each year, will be published in the st. james's gazette, on the second tuesday of the following december._ _p.p.s.--the thought, so prettily expressed by the little boy, is also to be found in longfellow's "hiawatha," where he appeals to those who believe_ "_that the feeble hands and helpless,_ _groping blindly in the darkness_, _touch_ god's _right hand in that darkness_, _and are lifted up and strengthened_." * * * * * "who will riddle me the how and the why?" _so questions one of england's sweetest singers. the "how?" has already been told, after a fashion, in the verses prefixed to "alice in wonderland"; and some other memories of that happy summer day are set down, for those who care to see them, in this little book--the germ that was to grow into the published volume. but the "why?" cannot, and need not, be put into words. those for whom a child's mind is a sealed book, and who see no divinity in a child's smile, would read such words in vain: while for any one that has ever loved one true child, no words are needed. for he will have known the awe that falls on one in the presence of a spirit fresh from_ god's _hands, on whom no shadow of sin, and but the outermost fringe of the shadow of sorrow, has yet fallen: he will have felt the bitter contrast between the haunting selfishness that spoils his best deeds and the life that is but an overflowing love--for i think a child's_ first _attitude to the world is a simple love for all living things: and he will have learned that the best work a man can do is when he works for love's sake only, with no thought of name, or gain, or earthly reward. no deed of ours, i suppose, on this side the grave, is really unselfish: yet if one can put forth all one's powers in a task where nothing of reward is hoped for but a little child's whispered thanks, and the airy touch of a little child's pure lips, one seems to come somewhere near to this._ _there was no idea of publication in my mind when i wrote this little book_: that _was wholly an afterthought, pressed on me by the "perhaps too partial friends" who always have to bear the blame when a writer rushes into print: and i can truly say that no praise of theirs has ever given me one hundredth part of the pleasure it has been to think of the sick children in hospitals (where it has been a delight to me to send copies) forgetting, for a few bright hours, their pain and weariness--perhaps thinking lovingly of the unknown writer of the tale--perhaps even putting up a childish prayer (and oh, how much it needs!) for one who can but dimly hope to stand, some day, not quite out of sight of those pure young faces, before the great white throne. "i am very sure," writes a lady-visitor at a home for sick children, "that there will be many loving earnest prayers for you on easter morning from the children._" _i would like to quote further from her letters, as embodying a suggestion that may perhaps thus come to the notice of some one able and willing to carry it out._ "_i want you to send me one of your easter greetings for a very dear child who is dying at our home. she is just fading away, and 'alice' has brightened some of the weary hours in her illness, and i know that letter would be such a delight to her--especially if you would put 'minnie' at the top, and she could know you had sent it for her._ she _knows_ you, _and would so value it.... she suffers so much that i long for what i know would so please her." ... "thank you very much for sending me the letter, and for writing minnie's name.... i am quite sure that all these children will say a loving prayer for the 'alice-man' on easter day: and i am sure the letter will help the little ones to the real easter joy. how i do wish that you, who have won the hearts and confidence of so many children, would do for them what is so very near my heart, and yet what no one will do, viz. write a book for children about_ god _and themselves, which is_ not _goody, and which begins at the right end, about religion, to make them see what it really is. i get quite miserable very often over the children i come across: hardly any of them have an idea of_ really _knowing that_ god _loves them, or of loving and confiding in him. they will love and trust_ me, _and be sure that i want them to be happy, and will not let them suffer more than is necessary: but as for going to him in the same way, they would never think of it. they are dreadfully afraid of him, if they think of him at all, which they generally only do when they have been naughty, and they look on all connected with him as very grave and dull: and, when they are full of fun and thoroughly happy, i am sure they unconsciously hope he is not looking. i am sure i don't wonder they think of him in this way, for people_ never _talk of him in connection with what makes their little lives the brightest. if they are naughty, people put on solemn faces, and say he is very angry or shocked, or something which frightens them: and, for the rest, he is talked about only in a way that makes them think of church and having to be quiet. as for being taught that all joy and all gladness and brightness is his joy--that he is wearying for them to be happy, and is not hard and stern, but always doing things to make their days brighter, and caring for them so tenderly, and wanting them to run to him with_ all _their little joys and sorrows, they are not taught that. i do so long to make them trust him as they trust us, to feel that he will 'take their part' as they do with us in their little woes, and to go to him in their plays and enjoyments and not only when they say their prayers. i was quite grateful to one little dot, a short time ago, who said to his mother 'when i am in bed, i put out my hand to see if i can feel_ jesus _and my angel. i thought perhaps_ in the dark _they'd touch me, but they never have yet.' i do so want them to_ want _to go to him, and to feel how, if he is there, it_ must _be happy._" _let me add--for i feel i have drifted into far too serious a vein for a preface to a fairy-tale--the deliciously naïve remark of a very dear child-friend, whom i asked, after an acquaintance of two or three days, if she had read 'alice' and the 'looking-glass.' "oh yes," she replied readily, "i've read both of them! and i think" (this more slowly and thoughtfully) "i think 'through the looking-glass' is_ more _stupid than 'alice's adventures.' don't_ you _think so?" but this was a question i felt it would be hardly discreet for me to enter upon._ _lewis carroll._ _dec._ . * * * * * an easter greeting to every child who loves "alice." dear child, _please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter, from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as i do now with all my heart, a happy easter._ _do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window--when, lying lazily with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or waters rippling in a golden light? it is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. and is not that a mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? to rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark--to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen friend, who sends you the beautiful sun_? _are these strange words from a writer of such tales as "alice"? and is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? it may be so. some perhaps may blame me for thus mixing together things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on a sunday: but i think--nay, i am sure--that some children will read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which i have written it._ _for i do not believe god means us thus to divide life into two halves--to wear a grave face on sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention him on a week-day. do you think he cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer--and that he does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll among the hay? surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in his ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the "dim religious light" of some solemn cathedral?_ _and if i have written anything to add to those stores of innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the children i love so well, it is surely something i may hope to look back upon without shame and sorrow (as how much of life must then be recalled!) when_ my _turn comes to walk through the valley of shadows._ _this easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your "life in every limb," and eager to rush out into the fresh morning air_--_and many an easter-day will come and go, before it finds you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once more in the sunlight--but it is good, even now, to think sometimes of that great morning when the "sun of righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings."_ _surely your gladness need not be the less for the thought that you will one day see a brighter dawn than this--when lovelier sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling waters--when angel-hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter tones than ever loving mother breathed shall wake you to a new and glorious day--and when all the sadness, and the sin, that darkened life on this little earth, shall be forgotten like the dreams of a night that is past!_ _your affectionate friend_, _lewis carroll_. easter, . * * * * * christmas greetings. [from a fairy to a child.] lady dear, if fairies may for a moment lay aside cunning tricks and elfish play, 'tis at happy christmas-tide. we have heard the children say-- gentle children, whom we love-- long ago, on christmas day, came a message from above. still, as christmas-tide comes round, they remember it again-- echo still the joyful sound "peace on earth, good-will to men!" yet the hearts must childlike be where such heavenly guests abide: unto children, in their glee, all the year is christmas-tide! thus, forgetting tricks and play for a moment, lady dear, we would wish you, if we may, merry christmas, glad new year! lewis carroll. _christmas, ._ * * * * * works by lewis carroll. published by macmillan and co., london. alice's adventures _in_ wonderland. with forty-two illustrations by tenniel. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, price _s._ seventy-eighth thousand. aventures d'alice au pays des merveilles. traduit de l'anglais par henri bué. ouvrage illustré de vignettes par john tenniel. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, price _s._ alice's abenteuer im wunderland. aus dem englischen, von antonie zimmermann. mitt illustrationen von john tenniel. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, price _s._ le avventure d'alice nel paese delle meraviglie. tradotte dall' inglese da t. pietrocÃ�la-rossetti. con vignette di giovanni tenniel. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, price _s._ through the looking-glass and what alice found there. with fifty illustrations by tenniel. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, price _s._ fifty sixth thousand. rhyme? and reason? with sixty-five illustrations by arthur b. frost, and nine by henry holiday. (this book, first published in , is a reprint, with a few additions, of the comic portion of "phantasmagoria and other poems," published in , and of "the hunting of the snark," published in . mr. frost's pictures are new.) crown vo, cloth, coloured edges, price _s._ fifth thousand. * * * * * works by lewis carroll. published by macmillan and co., london. a tangled tale. reprinted from _the monthly packet_. with six illustrations by arthur b. frost. (first published in .) crown vo, cloth, gilt edges, _s._ _d._ third thousand. the game of logic. (with an envelope containing a card diagram and nine counters--four red and five grey.) crown vo, cloth, price _s._ n.b.--the envelope, etc., may be had separately at _d._ each. alice's adventures under ground. being a facsimile of the original ms. book, afterwards developed into "alice's adventures in wonderland." with thirty-seven illustrations by the author. crown vo, cloth, gilt edges. _s._ the nursery alice. a selection of twenty of the pictures in "alice's adventures in wonderland," enlarged and coloured under the artist's superintendence, with explanations. [_in preparation._ * * * * * n.b. in selling the above-mentioned books to the trade, messrs. macmillan and co. will abate _d._ in the shilling (no odd copies), and allow per cent. discount for payment within six months, and per cent. for cash. in selling them to the public (for cash only) they will allow per cent. discount. * * * * * mr. lewis carroll, having been requested to allow "an easter greeting" (a leaflet, addressed to children, first published in , and frequently given with his books) to be sold separately, has arranged with messrs. harrison, of , pall mall, who will supply a single copy for _d._, or for _d._, or for _s._ * * * * * produced from images generously made available by the university of florida digital collections.) alice's adventures in wonderland [illustration: "alice"] [illustration: alice's·adventures in·wonderland by·lewis·carroll illustrated·by arthur·rackham with a proem by austin dobson london·william·heinemann new·york·doubleday·page·&·co] printed in england _'tis two score years since carroll's art, with topsy-turvy magic, sent alice wondering through a part half-comic and half-tragic._ _enchanting alice! black-and-white has made your deeds perennial; and naught save "chaos and old night" can part you now from tenniel;_ _but still you are a type, and based in truth, like lear and hamlet; and types may be re-draped to taste in cloth-of-gold or camlet._ _here comes afresh costumier, then; that taste may gain a wrinkle from him who drew with such deft pen the rags of rip van winkle!_ _austin dobson._ all in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide; for both our oars, with little skill, by little arms are plied, while little hands make vain pretence our wanderings to guide. ah, cruel three! in such an hour, beneath such dreamy weather, to beg a tale of breath too weak to stir the tiniest feather! yet what can one poor voice avail against three tongues together? imperious prima flashes forth her edict "to begin it"-- in gentler tone secunda hopes "there will be nonsense in it!"-- while tertia interrupts the tale not _more_ than once a minute. anon, to sudden silence won, in fancy they pursue the dream-child moving through a land of wonders wild and new, in friendly chat with bird or beast-- and half believe it true. and ever, as the story drained the wells of fancy dry. and faintly strove that weary one to put the subject by, "the rest next time--" "it _is_ next time!" the happy voices cry. thus grew the tale of wonderland: thus slowly, one by one, its quaint events were hammered out-- and now the tale is done, and home we steer, a merry crew, beneath the setting sun. alice! a childish story take, and with a gentle hand lay it where childhood's dreams are twined in memory's mystic band, like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers pluck'd in a far-off land. contents page i. down the rabbit-hole ii. the pool of tears iii. a caucus-race and a long tale iv. the rabbit sends in a little bill v. advice from a caterpillar vi. pig and pepper vii. a mad tea-party viii. the queen's croquet-ground ix. the mock turtle's story x. the lobster quadrille xi. who stole the tarts? xii. alice's evidence list of the plates _to face page_ alice _frontispiece_ the pool of tears they all crowded round it panting and asking, "but who has won?" "why, mary ann, what are you doing out here?" advice from a caterpillar an unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off it grunted again so violently that she looked down into its face in some alarm a mad tea-party the queen turned angrily away from him and said to the knave, "turn them over" the queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting "off with his head!" or, "off with her head!" the mock turtle drew a long breath and said, "that's very curious" who stole the tarts? at this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her chapter i [sidenote: _down the rabbit-hole_] alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought alice, "without pictures or conversations?" so she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid) whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. there was nothing so _very_ remarkable in that; nor did alice think it so _very_ much out of the way to hear the rabbit say to itself, "oh dear! oh dear! i shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the rabbit actually _took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket_, and looked at it, and then hurried on, alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. in another moment down went alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. the rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well. [illustration] either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her, and to wonder what was going to happen next. first, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves: here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. she took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled "orange marmalade," but to her disappointment it was empty; she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. "well!" thought alice to herself. "after such a fall as this, i shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! how brave they'll all think me at home! why, i wouldn't say anything about it, even if i fell off the top of the house!" (which was very likely true.) down, down, down. would the fall _never_ come to an end? "i wonder how many miles i've fallen by this time?" she said aloud. "i must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. let me see: that would be four thousand miles down. i think--" (for, you see, alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a _very_ good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) "--yes, that's about the right distance--but then i wonder what latitude or longitude i've got to?" (alice had no idea what latitude was, or longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) presently she began again. "i wonder if i shall fall right _through_ the earth! how funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downwards! the antipathies, i think--" (she was rather glad there _was_ no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) "--but i shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. please, ma'am, is this new zealand or australia?" (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke--fancy _curtseying_ as you're falling through the air! do you think you could manage it?) "and what an ignorant little girl she'll think me! no, it'll never do to ask: perhaps i shall see it written up somewhere." down, down, down. there was nothing else to do, so alice soon began talking again. "dinah'll miss me very much to-night, i should think!" (dinah was the cat.) "i hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. dinah, my dear, i wish you were down here with me! there are no mice in the air, i'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. but do cats eat bats, i wonder?" and here alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, "do cats eat bats? do cats eat bats?" and sometimes, "do bats eat cats?" for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. she felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, "now, dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?" when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the white rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. there was not a moment to be lost: away went alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!" she was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. there were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again. suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it but a tiny golden key, and alice's first idea was that this might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. however, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. how she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; "and even if my head would go through," thought poor alice, "it would be of very little use without my shoulders. oh, how i wish i could shut up like a telescope! i think i could, if i only knew how to begin." for, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible. there seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it ("which certainly was not here before," said alice,) and tied round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words "drink me" beautifully printed on it in large letters. it was all very well to say "drink me," but the wise little alice was not going to do _that_ in a hurry. "no, i'll look first," she said, "and see whether it's marked '_poison_' or not;" for she had read several nice little stories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts, and other unpleasant things, all because they _would_ not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that, if you cut your finger _very_ deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. however, this bottle was _not_ marked "poison," so alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, coffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. * * * * * "what a curious feeling!" said alice. "i must be shutting up like a telescope." and so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through that little door into that lovely garden. first, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this: "for it might end, you know," said alice to herself, "in my going out altogether, like a candle. i wonder what i should be like then?" and she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle looks like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing. after a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried. "come, there's no use in crying like that!" said alice to herself, rather sharply. "i advise you to leave off this minute!" she generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. "but it's no use now," thought poor alice, "to pretend to be two people! why there's hardly enough of me left to make _one_ respectable person!" soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words "eat me" were beautifully marked in currants. "well, i'll eat it," said alice, "and if it makes me grow larger, i can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, i can creep under the door; so either way i'll get into the garden, and i don't care which happens!" she ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, "which way? which way?" holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size; to be sure, this is what generally happens when one eats cake, but alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way. so she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. * * * * * chapter ii [sidenote: _pool of tears_] "curiouser and curiouser!" cried alice (she was so much surprised, that for a moment she quite forgot how to speak good english); "now i'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! good-bye, feet!" (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). "oh, my poor little feet, i wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? i'm sure _i_ sha'n't be able! i shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can--but i must be kind to them," thought alice, "or perhaps they won't walk the way i want to go! let me see: i'll give them a new pair of boots every christmas." and she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. "they must go by the carrier," she thought; "and how funny it'll seem, sending presents to one's own feet! and how odd the directions will look! alice's right foot, esq. hearthrug, near the fender, (with alice's love). oh dear, what nonsense i'm talking!" just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door. poor alice! it was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said alice, "a great girl like you" (she might well say this), "to go on crying in this way! stop this moment, i tell you!" but she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall. [illustration: curiouser and curiouser] after a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. it was the white rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself as he came, "oh! the duchess, the duchess! oh! won't she be savage if i've kept her waiting!" alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, "if you please, sir----" the rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and scurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go. alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking! "dear, dear! how queer everything is to-day! and yesterday things went on just as usual. i wonder if i've been changed during the night? let me think: _was_ i the same when i got up this morning? i almost think i can remember feeling a little different. but if i'm not the same, the next question is, who in the world am i? ah, _that's_ the great puzzle!" and she began thinking over all the children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she could have been changed for any of them. "i'm sure i'm not ada," she said, "for her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn't go in ringlets at all; and i'm sure i can't be mabel, for i know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very little! besides, _she's_ she, and _i'm_ i, and--oh dear, how puzzling it all is! i'll try if i know all the things i used to know. let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven is--oh dear! i shall never get to twenty at that rate! however, the multiplication table doesn't signify: let's try geography. london is the capital of paris, and paris is the capital of rome, and rome--no, _that's_ all wrong, i'm certain! i must have been changed for mabel! i'll try and say '_how doth the little----_'" and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the same as they used to do:-- "how doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail, and pour the waters of the nile on every golden scale! "how cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws!" "i'm sure those are not the right words," said poor alice, and her eyes filled with tears again as she went on. "i must be mabel, after all, and i shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! no, i've made up my mind about it; if i'm mabel, i'll stay down here! it'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying, 'come up again, dear!' i shall only look up and say, 'who am i then? tell me that first, and then, if i like being that person, i'll come up: if not, i'll stay down here till i'm somebody else'--but, oh dear!" cried alice with a sudden burst of tears, "i do wish they _would_ put their heads down! i am so _very_ tired of being all alone here!" as she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the rabbit's little white kid gloves while she was talking. "how _can_ i have done that?" she thought. "i must be growing small again." she got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. "that _was_ a narrow escape!" said alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; "and now for the garden!" and she ran with all speed back to the little door: but alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, "and things are worse than ever," thought the poor child, "for i never was so small as this before, never! and i declare it's too bad, that it is!" as she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt water. her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea, "and in that case i can go back by railway," she said to herself. (alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on the english coast you find a number of bathing machines in the sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) however, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. "i wish i hadn't cried so much!" said alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. "i shall be punished for it now, i suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! that _will_ be a queer thing, to be sure! however, everything is queer to-day." just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself. "would it be of any use now," thought alice, "to speak to this mouse? everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that i should think very likely it can talk: at any rate, there's no harm in trying." so she began: "o mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? i am very tired of swimming about here, o mouse!" (alice thought this must be the right way of speaking to a mouse; she had never done such a thing before, but she remembered having seen in her brother's latin grammar, "a mouse--of a mouse--to a mouse--a mouse--o mouse!") the mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing. "perhaps it doesn't understand english," thought alice; "i daresay it's a french mouse, come over with william the conqueror." (for, with all her knowledge of history, alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened.) so she began again: "où est ma chatte?" which was the first sentence in her french lesson-book. the mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. "oh, i beg your pardon!" cried alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. "i quite forgot you didn't like cats." "not like cats!" cried the mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. "would _you_ like cats if you were me?" "well, perhaps not," said alice in a soothing tone: "don't be angry about it. and yet i wish i could show you our cat dinah: i think you'd take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. she is such a dear quiet thing," alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, "and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face--and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse--and she's such a capital one for catching mice----oh, i beg your pardon!" cried alice again, for this time the mouse was bristling all over, and she felt certain it must be really offended. "we won't talk about her any more if you'd rather not." "we, indeed!" cried the mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his tail. "as if _i_ would talk on such a subject! our family always _hated_ cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! don't let me hear the name again!" [illustration: _the pool of tears_] "i won't indeed!" said alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. "are you--are you fond--of--of dogs?" the mouse did not answer, so alice went on eagerly: "there is such a nice little dog near our house i should like to show you! a little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! and it'll fetch things when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts of things--i can't remember half of them--and it belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it's so useful, it's worth a hundred pounds! he says it kills all the rats and--oh dear!" cried alice in a sorrowful tone, "i'm afraid i've offended it again!" for the mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went. so she called softly after it, "mouse dear! do come back again, and we won't talk about cats or dogs either, if you don't like them!" when the mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face was quite pale (with passion, alice thought), and it said in a low trembling voice, "let us get to the shore, and then i'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is i hate cats and dogs." it was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a duck and a dodo, a lory and an eaglet, and several other curious creatures. alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. chapter iii [sidenote: _a caucus-race and a long tale_] they were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank--the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. the first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. indeed, she had quite a long argument with the lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, "i am older than you, and must know better;" and this alice would not allow without knowing how old it was, and, as the lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be said. at last the mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, called out "sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _i'll_ soon make you dry enough!" they all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the mouse in the middle. alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. "ahem!" said the mouse with an important air. "are you all ready? this is the driest thing i know. silence all round, if you please! 'william the conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by the english, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria--'" "ugh!" said the lory, with a shiver. "i beg your pardon!" said the mouse, frowning, but very politely. "did you speak?" "not i!" said the lory hastily. "i thought you did," said the mouse, "--i proceed. 'edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria, declared for him: and even stigand, the patriotic archbishop of canterbury, found it advisable--'" "found _what_?" said the duck. "found _it_," the mouse replied rather crossly: "of course you know what 'it' means." "i know what 'it' means well enough, when _i_ find a thing," said the duck; "it's generally a frog or a worm. the question is, what did the archbishop find?" the mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, "'--found it advisable to go with edgar atheling to meet william and offer him the crown. william's conduct at first was moderate. but the insolence of his normans--' how are you getting on now, my dear?" it continued, turning to alice as it spoke. "as wet as ever," said alice in a melancholy tone; "doesn't seem to dry me at all." "in that case," said the dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, "i move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies----" "speak english!" said the eaglet. "i don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, i don't believe you do either!" and the eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly. "what i was going to say," said the dodo in an offended tone, "was that the best thing to get us dry would be a caucus-race." "what _is_ a caucus-race?" said alice; not that she much wanted to know, but the dodo had paused as if it thought that _somebody_ ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything. "why," said the dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." (and, as you might like to try the thing yourself some winter day, i will tell you how the dodo managed it.) first it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, ("the exact shape doesn't matter," it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. there was no "one, two, three, and away," but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. however, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the dodo suddenly called "the race is over!" and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking "but who has won?" this question the dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it stood for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. at last the dodo said "_everybody_ has won, and _all_ must have prizes." "but who is to give the prizes?" quite a chorus of voices asked. "why, _she_, of course," said the dodo, pointing to alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, "prizes! prizes!" alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits (luckily the salt water had not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. there was exactly one apiece all round. _they all crowded round it panting and asking, "but who has won?"_ [illustration] "but she must have a prize herself, you know," said the mouse. "of course," the dodo replied very gravely. "what else have you got in your pocket?" it went on, turning to alice. "only a thimble," said alice sadly. "hand it over here," said the dodo. then they all crowded round her once more, while the dodo solemnly presented the thimble, saying "we beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble;" and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could. the next thing was to eat the comfits; this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. however, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the mouse to tell them something more. "you promised to tell me your history, you know," said alice, "and why it is you hate--c and d," she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again. [illustration] "mine is a long and sad tale!" said the mouse, turning to alice and sighing. "it _is_ a long tail, certainly," said alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" and she kept on puzzling about it while the mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:-- "fury said to a mouse, that he met in the house, 'let us both go to law: _i_ will prose- cute _you_.-- come, i'll take no de- nial: we must have the trial; for really this morn- ing i've nothing to do.' said the mouse to the cur, 'such a trial, dear sir, with no jury or judge, would be wast- ing our breath.' 'i'll be judge, i'll be jury,' said cun- ning old fury: 'i'll try the whole cause, and con- demn you to death.' "you are not attending!" said the mouse to alice severely. "what are you thinking of?" "i beg your pardon," said alice very humbly: "you had got to the fifth bend, i think?" "i had _not_!" cried the mouse, angrily. "a knot!" said alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking anxiously about her. "oh, do let me help to undo it!" "i shall do nothing of the sort," said the mouse, getting up and walking away. "you insult me by talking such nonsense!" "i didn't mean it!" pleaded poor alice. "but you're so easily offended, you know!" the mouse only growled in reply. "please come back and finish your story!" alice called after it. and the others all joined in chorus, "yes, please do!" but the mouse only shook its head impatiently and walked a little quicker. "what a pity it wouldn't stay!" sighed the lory, as soon as it was quite out of sight; and an old crab took the opportunity of saying to her daughter, "ah, my dear! let this be a lesson to you never to lose _your_ temper!" "hold your tongue, ma!" said the young crab, a little snappishly. "you're enough to try the patience of an oyster!" "i wish i had our dinah here, i know i do!" said alice aloud, addressing nobody in particular. "she'd soon fetch it back!" "and who is dinah, if i might venture to ask the question?" said the lory. alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: "dinah's our cat. and she's such a capital one for catching mice, you ca'n't think! and oh, i wish you could see her after the birds! why, she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!" this speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. some of the birds hurried off at once; one old magpie began wrapping itself up very carefully, remarking "i really must be getting home; the night-air doesn't suit my throat!" and a canary called out in a trembling voice to its children "come away, my dears! it's high time you were all in bed!" on various pretexts they all moved off, and alice was soon left alone. "i wish i hadn't mentioned dinah!" she said to herself in a melancholy tone. "nobody seems to like her, down here, and i'm sure she's the best cat in the world! oh, my dear dinah! i wonder if i shall ever see you any more!" and here poor alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. in a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that the mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish his story. chapter iv [sidenote: _the rabbit sends in a little bill_] it was the white rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself, "the duchess! the duchess! oh my dear paws! oh my fur and whiskers! she'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! where _can_ i have dropped them, i wonder?" alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely. very soon the rabbit noticed alice, as she went hunting about, and called out to her in an angry tone, "why, mary ann, what _are_ you doing out here? run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! quick, now!" and alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had made. "he took me for his housemaid," she said to herself as she ran. "how surprised he'll be when he finds out who i am! but i'd better take him his fan and gloves--that is, if i can find them." as she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name "w. rabbit" engraved upon it. she went in without knocking, and hurried up stairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real mary ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves. [illustration: "_why, mary ann, what are you doing out here?_"] "how queer it seems," alice said to herself, "to be doing messages for a rabbit! i suppose dinah'll be sending me on messages next!" and she began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: "'miss alice! come here directly, and get ready for your walk!' 'coming in a minute, nurse! but i've got to watch this mouse-hole till dinah comes back, and see that the mouse doesn't get out.' only i don't think," alice went on, "that they'd let dinah stop in the house if it began ordering people about like that!" by this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. there was no label this time with the words "drink me," but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. "i know _something_ interesting is sure to happen," she said to herself, "whenever i eat or drink anything; so i'll just see what this bottle does. i do hope it will make me grow large again, for really i'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!" it did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. she hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself "that's quite enough--i hope i sha'n't grow any more--as it is, i can't get out at the door--i do wish i hadn't drunk quite so much!" alas! it was too late to wish that! she went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself "now i can do no more, whatever happens. what _will_ become of me?" luckily for alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy. "it was much pleasanter at home," thought poor alice, "when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. i almost wish i hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole--and yet--and yet--it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! i do wonder what _can_ have happened to me! when i used to read fairy-tales, i fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here i am in the middle of one! there ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! and when i grow up, i'll write one--but i'm grown up now," she added in a sorrowful tone; "at least there's no room to grow up any more _here_." "but then," thought alice, "shall i _never_ get any older than i am now? that'll be a comfort, one way--never to be an old woman--but then--always to have lessons to learn! oh, i shouldn't like _that_!" "oh, you foolish alice!" she answered herself. "how can you learn lessons in here? why, there's hardly room for _you_, and no room at all for any lesson-books!" and so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen. "mary ann! mary ann!" said the voice. "fetch me my gloves this moment!" then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. alice knew it was the rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. presently the rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. alice heard it say to itself "then i'll go round and get in at the window." "_that_ you won't" thought alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she heard the rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. she did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. next came an angry voice--the rabbit's--"pat! pat! where are you?" and then a voice she had never heard before, "sure then i'm here! digging for apples, yer honour!" "digging for apples, indeed!" said the rabbit angrily. "here! come and help me out of _this_!" (sounds of more broken glass.) "now tell me, pat, what's that in the window?" "sure, it's an arm, yer honour." (he pronounced it "arrum.") "an arm, you goose! who ever saw one that size? why, it fills the whole window!" "sure, it does, yer honour? but it's an arm for all that." "well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!" there was a long silence after this, and alice could only hear whispers now and then; such as, "sure, i don't like it, yer honour, at all, at all!" "do as i tell you, you coward!" and at last she spread out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. this time there were _two_ little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. "what a number of cucumber-frames there must be!" thought alice. "i wonder what they'll do next! as for pulling me out of the window, i only wish they _could_! i'm sure _i_ don't want to stay in here any longer!" she waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cart-wheels, and the sound of a good many voices all talking together: she made out the words: "where's the other ladder?--why i hadn't to bring but one; bill's got the other--bill! fetch it here, lad!--here, put 'em up at this corner--no, tie 'em together first--they don't reach half high enough yet--oh! they'll do well enough; don't be particular--here, bill! catch hold of this rope--will the roof bear?--mind that loose slate--oh, it's coming down! heads below!" (a loud crash)--"now, who did that?--it was bill, i fancy--who's to go down the chimney?--nay, _i_ sha'n't! _you_ do it!--_that_ i won't, then! bill's to go down--here, bill! the master says you've to go down the chimney!" "oh! so bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said alice to herself. "why, they seem to put everything upon bill! i wouldn't be in bill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but i _think_ i can kick a little!" she drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it was) scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, saying to herself "this is bill," she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen next. the first thing she heard was a general chorus of "there goes bill!" then the rabbit's voice alone--"catch him, you by the hedge!" then silence, and then another confusion of voices--"hold up his head--brandy now--don't choke him--how was it, old fellow? what happened to you? tell us all about it!" at last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, ("that's bill," thought alice,) "well, i hardly know--no more, thank ye; i'm better now--but i'm a deal too flustered to tell you--all i know is, something comes at me like a jack-in-the-box, and up i goes like a sky-rocket!" "so you did, old fellow!" said the others. "we must burn the house down!" said the rabbit's voice. and alice called out as loud as she could, "if you do, i'll set dinah at you!" there was a dead silence instantly, and alice thought to herself "i wonder what they _will_ do next! if they had any sense, they'd take the roof off." after a minute or two they began moving about again, and alice heard the rabbit say "a barrowful will do, to begin with." "a barrowful of _what_?" thought alice. but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. "i'll put a stop to this," she said to herself, and shouted out "you'd better not do that again!" which produced another dead silence. alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head. "if i eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure to make _some_ change in my size; and, as it can't possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, i suppose." so she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. as soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside. the poor little lizard, bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something out of a bottle. they all made a rush at alice the moment she appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a thick wood. "the first thing i've got to do," said alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. i think that will be the best plan." it sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it; and, while she was peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry. an enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. "poor little thing!" said alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of all her coaxing. hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it; then alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and, the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. this seemed to alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance. "and yet what a dear little puppy it was!" said alice, as she leant against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the leaves. "i should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if--if i'd only been the right size to do it! oh, dear! i'd nearly forgotten that i've got to grow up again! let me see--how _is_ it to be managed? i suppose i ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, what?" the great question certainly was, what? alice looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she could not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. there was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and, when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of it. she stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. chapter v [sidenote: _advice from a caterpillar_] the caterpillar and alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. "who are _you_?" said the caterpillar. this was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. alice replied, rather shyly, "i hardly know, sir, just at present--at least i know who i _was_ when i got up this morning, but i think i must have been changed several times since then." "what do you mean by that?" said the caterpillar sternly. "explain yourself!" "i can't explain _myself_, i'm afraid, sir," said alice, "because i'm not myself, you see." "i don't see," said the caterpillar. "i'm afraid i can't put it more clearly," alice replied very politely, "for i can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing." "it isn't," said the caterpillar. "well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said alice, "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, i should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?" "not a bit," said the caterpillar. "well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said alice; "all i know is, it would feel very queer to _me_." "you!" said the caterpillar contemptuously. "who are _you_?" which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. alice felt a little irritated at the caterpillar's making such _very_ short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, "i think you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first." "why?" said the caterpillar. [illustration: _advice from a caterpillar_] here was another puzzling question; and as alice could not think of any good reason, and as the caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. "come back!" the caterpillar called after her. "i've something important to say!" this sounded promising, certainly: alice turned and came back again. "keep your temper," said the caterpillar. "is that all?" said alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. "no," said the caterpillar. alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. for some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "so you think you're changed, do you?" "i'm afraid i am, sir," said alice; "i can't remember things as i used--and i don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!" "can't remember _what_ things?" said the caterpillar. "well, i've tried to say '_how doth the little busy bee_,' but it all came different!" alice replied in a very melancholy voice. "repeat '_you are old, father william_,'" said the caterpillar. alice folded her hands, and began:-- "you are old, father william," the young man said, "and your hair has become very white; and yet you incessantly stand on your head-- do you think, at your age, it is right?" "in my youth," father william replied to his son, "i feared it might injure the brain; but, now that i'm perfectly sure i have none, why, i do it again and again." "you are old," said the youth, "as i mentioned before, and have grown most uncommonly fat; yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-- pray, what is the reason of that?" "in my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, "i kept all my limbs very supple by the use of this ointment--one shilling the box-- allow me to sell you a couple?" "you are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak for anything tougher than suet; yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak-- pray, how did you manage to do it?" "in my youth," said his father, "i took to the law and argued each case with my wife; and the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, has lasted the rest of my life." "you are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose that your eye was as steady as ever; yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- what made you so awfully clever?" "i have answered three questions, and that is enough," said his father; "don't give yourself airs! do you think i can listen all day to such stuff? be off, or i'll kick you down stairs!" "that is not said right," said the caterpillar. "not _quite_ right, i'm afraid," said alice, timidly; "some of the words have got altered." "it is wrong from beginning to end," said the caterpillar, decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes. the caterpillar was the first to speak. "what size do you want to be?" it asked. "oh, i'm not particular as to size," alice hastily replied; "only one doesn't like changing so often, you know." "i _don't_ know," said the caterpillar. alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in all her life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. "are you content now?" said the caterpillar. "well, i should like to be a _little_ larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind," said alice: "three inches is such a wretched height to be." "it is a very good height indeed!" said the caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). "but i'm not used to it!" pleaded poor alice in a piteous tone. and she thought to herself, "i wish the creatures wouldn't be so easily offended!" "you'll get used to it in time," said the caterpillar; and it put its hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. this time alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. in a minute or two the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away into the grass, merely remarking as it went, "one side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter." "one side of _what_? the other side of _what_?" thought alice to herself. "of the mushroom," said the caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. however, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. "and now which is which?" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! [illustration] she was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. her chin was pressed so closely against her foot that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the left-hand bit. * * * * * "come, my head's free at last!" said alice in a tone of delight, which changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her. "what _can_ all that green stuff be?" said alice. "and where have my shoulders got to? and oh, my poor hands, how is it i ca'n't see you?" she was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green leaves. as there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. she had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her violently with its wings. "serpent!" screamed the pigeon. "i'm _not_ a serpent!" said alice indignantly. "let me alone!" "serpent, i say again!" repeated the pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, and added with a kind of a sob, "i've tried every way, and nothing seems to suit them!" "i haven't the least idea what you're talking about," said alice. "i've tried the roots of trees, and i've tried banks, and i've tried hedges," the pigeon went on, without attending to her; "but those serpents! there's no pleasing them!" alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything more till the pigeon had finished. "as if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the pigeon; "but i must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! why, i haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!" "i'm very sorry you've been annoyed," said alice, who was beginning to see its meaning. [illustration] "and just as i'd taken the highest tree in the wood," continued the pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, "and just as i was thinking i should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky! ugh, serpent!" "but i'm _not_ a serpent, i tell you!" said alice. "i'm a---- i'm a ----" "well! _what_ are you?" said the pigeon. "i can see you're trying to invent something!" "i--i'm a little girl," said alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day. "a likely story indeed!" said the pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. "i've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never _one_ with such a neck as that! no, no! you're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. i suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!" "i _have_ tasted eggs, certainly," said alice, who was a very truthful child; "but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know." "i don't believe it," said the pigeon; "but if they do, why then they're a kind of serpent, that's all i can say." this was such a new idea to alice, that she was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the pigeon the opportunity of adding, "you're looking for eggs, i know _that_ well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you're a little girl or a serpent?" "it matters a good deal to _me_," said alice hastily; "but i'm not looking for eggs, as it happens; and if i was, i shouldn't want _yours_: i don't like them raw." "well, be off, then!" said the pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest. alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. after a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. it was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. "come, there's half my plan done now! how puzzling all these changes are! i'm never sure what i'm going to be, from one minute to another! however, i've got back to my right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden--how _is_ that to be done, i wonder?" as she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. "whoever lives there," thought alice, "it'll never do to come upon them _this_ size: why, i should frighten them out of their wits!" so she began nibbling at the right-hand bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high. chapter vi [sidenote: _pig and pepper_] for a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood--(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)--and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. it was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face and large eyes like a frog; and both footmen, alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. she felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. the fish-footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, "for the duchess. an invitation from the queen to play croquet." the frog-footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only changing the order of the words a little, "from the queen. an invitation for the duchess to play croquet." then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and, when she next peeped out, the fish-footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky. alice went timidly up to the door and knocked. "there's no use in knocking," said the footman, "and that for two reasons. first, because i'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you." and certainly there was a most extraordinary noise going on within--a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces. "please, then," said alice, "how am i to get in?" "there might be some sense in your knocking," the footman went on without attending to her, "if we had the door between us. for instance, if you were _inside_, you might knock, and i could let you out, you know." he was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this alice thought decidedly uncivil. "but perhaps he can't help it," she said to herself: "his eyes are so _very_ nearly at the top of his head. but at any rate he might answer questions. how am i to get in?" she repeated aloud. "i shall sit here," the footman remarked, "till to-morrow----" at this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came skimming out, straight at the footman's head: it just grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. "----or next day, maybe," the footman continued in the same tone, exactly as if nothing had happened. "how am i to get in?" asked alice again in a louder tone. "_are_ you to get in at all?" said the footman. "that's the first question, you know." [illustration] it was, no doubt: only alice did not like to be told so. "it's really dreadful," she muttered to herself, "the way all the creatures argue. it's enough to drive one crazy!" the footman seemed to consider this a good opportunity for repeating his remark, with variations. "i shall sit here," he said, "on and off, for days and days." "but what am _i_ to do?" said alice. "anything you like," said the footman, and began whistling. "oh, there's no use in talking to him," said alice desperately: "he's perfectly idiotic!" and she opened the door and went in. the door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other: the duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby, the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. "there's certainly too much pepper in that soup!" alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing. there was certainly too much of it in the air. even the duchess sneezed occasionally; and the baby was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment's pause. the only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. "please would you tell me," said alice a little timidly, for she was not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, "why your cat grins like that?" "it's a cheshire cat," said the duchess, "and that's why. pig!" she said the last word with such sudden violence that alice quite jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again: "i didn't know that cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, i didn't know that cats _could_ grin." "they all can," said the duchess; "and most of 'em do." "i don't know of any that do," alice said very politely, feeling quite pleased to have got into a conversation. "you don't know much," said the duchess; "and that's a fact." alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. while she was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the duchess and the baby--the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. the duchess took no notice of them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. "oh, _please_ mind what you're doing!" cried alice, jumping up and down in an agony of terror. "oh, there goes his _precious_ nose"; as an unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off. "if everybody minded their own business," the duchess said in a hoarse growl, "the world would go round a deal faster than it does." [illustration: _an unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off_] "which would _not_ be an advantage," said alice, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. "just think what work it would make with the day and night! you see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis----" "talking of axes," said the duchess, "chop off her head." alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take the hint; but the cook was busily engaged in stirring the soup, and did not seem to be listening, so she ventured to go on again: "twenty-four hours, i _think_; or is it twelve? i----" "oh, don't bother _me_," said the duchess; "i never could abide figures!" and with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line: "speak roughly to your little boy, and beat him when he sneezes: he only does it to annoy, because he knows it teases." chorus (in which the cook and the baby joined): "wow! wow! wow!" while the duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that alice could hardly hear the words: "i speak severely to my boy, i beat him when he sneezes; for he can thoroughly enjoy the pepper when he pleases!" chorus. "wow! wow! wow!" "here! you may nurse it a bit if you like!" the duchess said to alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. "i must go and get ready to play croquet with the queen," and she hurried out of the room. the cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, "just like a star-fish," thought alice. the poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. as soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to twist it up into a knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out into the open air. "if i don't take this child away with me," thought alice, "they're sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?" she said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). "don't grunt," said alice; "that's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself." the baby grunted again, and alice looked very anxiously into its face to see what was the matter with it. there could be no doubt that it had a _very_ turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether alice did not like the look of the thing at all. "but perhaps it was only sobbing," she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears. no, there were no tears. "if you're going to turn into a pig, my dear," said alice, seriously, "i'll have nothing more to do with you. mind now!" the poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say which), and they went on for some while in silence. alice was just beginning to think to herself, "now, what am i to do with this creature when i get it home?" when it grunted again, so violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. this time there could be _no_ mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it any further. so she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it trot quietly away into the wood. "if it had grown up," she said to herself, "it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes rather a handsome pig, i think." and she began thinking over other children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, "if one only knew the right way to change them----" when she was a little startled by seeing the cheshire cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off. [illustration: _it grunted again so violently that she looked down into its face in some alarm_] the cat only grinned when it saw alice. it looked good-natured, she thought: still it had _very_ long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect. [illustration] "cheshire puss," she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. "come, it's pleased so far," thought alice, and she went on. "would you tell me, please, which way i ought to go from here?" "that depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the cat. "i don't much care where----" said alice. "then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the cat. "---- so long as i get _somewhere_," alice added as an explanation. "oh, you're sure to do that," said the cat, "if you only walk long enough." alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. "what sort of people live about here?" "in _that_ direction," the cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a hatter: and in _that_ direction," waving the other paw, "lives a march hare. visit either you like: they're both mad." "but i don't want to go among mad people," alice remarked. "oh, you ca'n't help that," said the cat: "we're all mad here. i'm mad. you're mad." "how do you know i'm mad?" said alice. "you must be," said the cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on. "and how do you know that you're mad?" "to begin with," said the cat, "a dog's not mad. you grant that?" "i suppose so," said alice. "well, then," the cat went on, "you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. now _i_ growl when i'm pleased, and wag my tail when i'm angry. therefore i'm mad." "_i_ call it purring, not growling," said alice. "call it what you like," said the cat. "do you play croquet with the queen to-day?" "i should like it very much," said alice, "but i haven't been invited yet." "you'll see me there," said the cat and vanished. alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer things happening. while she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again. "by-the-bye, what became of the baby?" said the cat. "i'd nearly forgotten to ask." "it turned into a pig," alice quietly said, just as if it had come back in a natural way. "i thought it would," said the cat, and vanished again. alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the march hare was said to live. "i've seen hatters before," she said to herself; "the march hare will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as this is may, it won't be raving mad--at least not so mad as it was in march." as she said this, she looked up, and there was the cat again, sitting on the branch of a tree. "did you say pig, or fig?" said the cat. "i said pig," replied alice; "and i wish you wouldn't keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy." "all right," said the cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone. "well! i've often seen a cat without a grin," thought alice; "but a grin without a cat! it's the most curious thing i ever saw in all my life." [illustration] she had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the march hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. it was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more of the left-hand bit of mushroom, and raised herself, to about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself, "suppose it should be raving mad after all! i almost wish i'd gone to see the hatter instead!" chapter vii [sidenote: _a mad tea-party_] there was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the march hare and the hatter were having tea at it: a dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "very uncomfortable for the dormouse," thought alice; "only as it's asleep, suppose it doesn't mind." the table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it. "no room! no room!" they cried out when they saw alice coming. "there's _plenty_ of room!" said alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. "have some wine," the march hare said in an encouraging tone. alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. "i don't see any wine," she remarked. "there isn't any," said the march hare. "then it wasn't very civil of you to offer it," said alice angrily. "it wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," said the march hare. "i didn't know it was _your_ table," said alice; "it's laid for a great many more than three." "your hair wants cutting," said the hatter. he had been looking at alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. "you should learn not to make personal remarks," alice said with some severity; "it's very rude." the hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he _said_ was "why is a raven like a writing-desk?" "come, we shall have some fun now!" thought alice. "i'm glad they've begun asking riddles.--i believe i can guess that," she added aloud. "do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the march hare. "exactly so," said alice. "then you should say what you mean," the march hare went on. "i do," alice hastily replied; "at least--at least i mean what i say--that's the same thing, you know." "not the same thing a bit!" said the hatter. "why, you might just as well say that 'i see what i eat' is the same thing as 'i eat what i see'!" "you might just as well say," added the march hare, "that 'i like what i get' is the same thing as 'i get what i like'!" "you might just as well say," added the dormouse, which seemed to be talking in his sleep, "that 'i breathe when i sleep' is the same thing as 'i sleep when i breathe'!" "it _is_ the same thing with you," said the hatter; and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn't much. [illustration: _a mad tea party_] the hatter was the first to break the silence. "what day of the month is it?" he said, turning to alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear. alice considered a little, and then said "the fourth." "two days wrong!" sighed the hatter. "i told you butter would not suit the works!" he added, looking angrily at the march hare. "it was the _best_ butter," the march hare meekly replied. "yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," the hatter grumbled: "you shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife." the march hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, "it was the _best_ butter, you know." alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. "what a funny watch!" she remarked. "it tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!" "why should it?" muttered the hatter. "does _your_ watch tell you what year it is?" "of course not," alice replied very readily: "but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time together." "which is just the case with _mine_," said the hatter. alice felt dreadfully puzzled. the hatter's remark seemed to have no meaning in it, and yet it was certainly english. "i don't quite understand," she said, as politely as she could. "the dormouse is asleep again," said the hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose. the dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its eyes, "of course, of course; just what i was going to remark myself." "have you guessed the riddle yet?" the hatter said, turning to alice again. "no, i give it up," alice replied: "what's the answer?" "i haven't the slightest idea," said the hatter. "nor i," said the march hare. alice sighed wearily. "i think you might do something better with the time," she said, "than wasting it asking riddles with no answers." "if you knew time as well as i do," said the hatter, "you wouldn't talk about wasting _it_. it's _him_." "i don't know what you mean," said alice. "of course you don't!" the hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. "i daresay you never spoke to time!" "perhaps not," alice cautiously replied: "but i know i have to beat time when i learn music." "ah! that accounts for it," said the hatter. "he won't stand beating. now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock. for instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a hint to time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! half-past one, time for dinner!" ("i only wish it was," the march hare said to itself in a whisper.) "that would be grand, certainly," said alice thoughtfully: "but then--i shouldn't be hungry for it, you know." "not at first, perhaps," said the hatter: "but you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked." "is that the way _you_ manage?" alice asked. the hatter shook his head mournfully. "not i!" he replied. "we quarrelled last march----just before _he_ went mad, you know----" (pointing with his teaspoon to the march hare), "it was at the great concert given by the queen of hearts, and i had to sing 'twinkle, twinkle, little bat! how i wonder what you're at!' you know that song, perhaps?" "i've heard something like it," said alice. "it goes on, you know," the hatter continued, "in this way:-- 'up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky. twinkle, twinkle----'" here the dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep "_twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle_----" and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop. "well, i'd hardly finished the first verse," said the hatter, "when the queen jumped up and bawled out 'he's murdering the time! off with his head!'" "how dreadfully savage!" exclaimed alice. "and ever since that," the hatter went on in a mournful tone, "he won't do a thing i ask! it's always six o'clock now." a bright idea came into alice's head. "is that the reason so many tea-things are put out here?" she asked. "yes, that's it," said the hatter with a sigh: "it's always tea-time, and we've no time to wash the things between whiles." "then you keep moving round, i suppose?" said alice. "exactly so," said the hatter: "as the things get used up." "but what happens when you come to the beginning again?" alice ventured to ask. "suppose we change the subject," the march hare interrupted, yawning. "i'm getting tired of this. i vote the young lady tells us a story." "i'm afraid i don't know one," said alice, rather alarmed at the proposal. "then the dormouse shall!" they both cried. "wake up, dormouse!" and they pinched it on both sides at once. the dormouse slowly opened his eyes. "i wasn't asleep," he said in a hoarse, feeble voice: "i heard every word you fellows were saying." "tell us a story!" said the march hare. "yes, please do!" pleaded alice. "and be quick about it," added the hatter, "or you'll be asleep again before it's done." "once upon a time there were three little sisters," the dormouse began in a great hurry; "and their names were elsie, lacie, and tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well----" "what did they live on?" said alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking. "they lived on treacle," said the dormouse, after thinking a minute or two. "they couldn't have done that, you know," alice gently remarked; "they'd have been ill." "so they were," said the dormouse; "_very_ ill." alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: "but why did they live at the bottom of a well?" "take some more tea," the march hare said to alice, very earnestly. "i've had nothing yet," alice replied in an offended tone, "so i can't take more." "you mean you can't take _less_," said the hatter; "it's very easy to take _more_ than nothing." "nobody asked _your_ opinion," said alice. "who's making personal remarks now?" the hatter asked triumphantly. alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the dormouse, and repeated her question. "why did they live at the bottom of a well?" the dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, "it was a treacle-well." "there's no such thing!" alice was beginning very angrily, but the hatter and the march hare went "sh! sh!" and the dormouse sulkily remarked: "if you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself." "no, please go on!" alice said very humbly. "i won't interrupt you again. i dare say there may be _one_." "one, indeed!" said the dormouse indignantly. however, he consented to go on. "and so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw, you know----" "what did they draw?" said alice, quite forgetting her promise. "treacle," said the dormouse, without considering at all this time. "i want a clean cup," interrupted the hatter: "let's all move one place on." he moved as he spoke, and the dormouse followed him: the march hare moved into the dormouse's place, and alice rather unwillingly took the place of the march hare. the hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the march hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. alice did not wish to offend the dormouse again, so she began very cautiously: "but i don't understand. where did they draw the treacle from?" "you can draw water out of a water-well," said the hatter; "so i should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh, stupid!" "but they were _in_ the well," alice said to the dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark. "of course they were," said the dormouse; "----well in." this answer so confused poor alice that she let the dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it. "they were learning to draw," the dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of things--everything that begins with an m----" "why with an m?" said alice. "why not?" said the march hare. alice was silent. the dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a dose; but, on being pinched by the hatter, it woke up again with a little shriek, and went on: "----that begins with an m, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say things are 'much of a muchness'--did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?" "really, now you ask me," said alice, very much confused, "i don't think----" "then you shouldn't talk," said the hatter. this piece of rudeness was more than alice could bear: she got up in great disgust and walked off; the dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the dormouse into the teapot. "at any rate i'll never go _there_ again!" said alice as she picked her way through the wood. "it's the stupidest tea-party i ever was at in all my life!" just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into it. "that's very curious!" she thought. "but everything's curious to-day. i think i may as well go in at once." and in she went. once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass table. "now i'll manage better this time," she said to herself, and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led into the garden. then she set to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she walked down the little passage: and _then_--she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains. chapter viii [sidenote: _the queen's croquet-ground_] a large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of them say "look out now, five! don't go splashing paint over me like that!" "i couldn't help it," said five, in a sulky tone. "seven jogged my elbow." on which seven looked up and said, "that's right, five! always lay the blame on others!" "_you'd_ better not talk!" said five. "i heard the queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!" "what for?" said the one who had first spoken. "that's none of _your_ business, two!" said seven. "yes, it _is_ his business!" said five. "and i'll tell him--it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions." seven flung down his brush, and had just begun "well, of all the unjust things----" when his eye chanced to fall upon alice, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low. "would you tell me," said alice, a little timidly, "why you are painting those roses?" five and seven said nothing, but looked at two. two began in a low voice, "why, the fact is, you see, miss, this here ought to have been a _red_ rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. so you see, miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to----" at this moment, five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out "the queen! the queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. there was a sound of many footsteps, and alice looked round, eager to see the queen. first came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. after these came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples; they were all ornamented with hearts. next came the guests, mostly kings and queens, and among them alice recognised the white rabbit: it was talking in a hurried, nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. then followed the knave of hearts, carrying the king's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession, came the king and queen of hearts. alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of such a rule at processions; "and besides, what would be the use of a procession," thought she, "if people had to lie down upon their faces, so that they couldn't see it?" so she stood still where she was, and waited. when the procession came opposite to alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the queen said severely, "who is this?" she said it to the knave of hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. "idiot!" said the queen, tossing her head impatiently; and turning to alice, she went on, "what's your name, child?" "my name is alice, so please your majesty," said alice very politely; but she added, to herself, "why, they're only a pack of cards, after all. i needn't be afraid of them!" "and who are _these_?" said the queen, pointing to the three gardeners who were lying round the rose-tree; for, you see, as they were lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. "how should _i_ know?" said alice, surprised at her own courage. "it's no business of _mine_." the queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment like a wild beast, screamed "off with her head! off----" "nonsense!" said alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the queen was silent. the king laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said "consider my dear: she is only a child!" the queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the knave "turn them over!" the knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. "get up!" said the queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the king, the queen, the royal children, and everybody else. "leave off that!" screamed the queen. "you make me giddy." and then, turning to the rose-tree, she went on, "what _have_ you been doing here?" "may it please your majesty," said two, in a very humble tone, going down on one knee as he spoke, "we were trying----" [illustration: _the queen turned angrily away from him and said to the knave, "turn them over"_] "_i_ see!" said the queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. "off with their heads!" and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to alice for protection. "you shan't be beheaded!" said alice, and she put them into a large flower-pot that stood near. the three soldiers wandered about for a minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. "are their heads off?" shouted the queen. "their heads are gone, if it please your majesty!" the soldiers shouted in reply. "that's right!" shouted the queen. "can you play croquet?" the soldiers were silent, and looked at alice, as the question was evidently meant for her. "yes!" shouted alice. "come on, then!" roared the queen, and alice joined the procession, wondering very much what would happen next. "it's--it's a very fine day!" said a timid voice at her side. she was walking by the white rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. "very," said alice: "----where's the duchess?" "hush! hush!" said the rabbit in a low hurried tone. he looked anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered "she's under sentence of execution." "what for?" said alice. "did you say 'what a pity!'?" the rabbit asked. "no, i didn't," said alice: "i don't think it's at all a pity. i said 'what for?'" "she boxed the queen's ears--" the rabbit began. alice gave a little scream of laughter. "oh, hush!" the rabbit whispered in a frightened tone. "the queen will hear you! you see she came rather late, and the queen said----" "get to your places!" shouted the queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in all her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand upon their hands and feet, to make the arches. [illustration] the chief difficulty alice found at first was in managing her flamingo; she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it _would_ twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or a furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. the players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" about once in a minute. alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure she had not as yet had any dispute with the queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, "and then," thought she, "what would become of me? they're dreadfully fond of beheading people here: the great wonder is that there's any one left alive!" she was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself "it's the cheshire cat: now i shall have somebody to talk to." "how are you getting on?" said the cat, as soon as there was mouth enough for it to speak with. alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. "it's no use speaking to it," she thought, "till its ears have come, or at least one of them." in another minute the whole head appeared, and then alice put down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had some one to listen to her. the cat seemed to think that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. "i don't think they play at all fairly," alice began, in rather a complaining tone, "and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak--and they don't seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them--and you've no idea how confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there's the arch i've got to go through next walking about at the other end of the ground--and i should have croqueted the queen's hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming!" [illustration] "how do you like the queen?" said the cat in a low voice. "not at all," said alice: "she's so extremely----" just then she noticed that the queen was close behind her listening: so she went on, "----likely to win, that it's hardly worth while finishing the game." the queen smiled and passed on. "who _are_ you talking to?" said the king, coming up to alice, and looking at the cat's head with great curiosity. "it's a friend of mine--a cheshire cat," said alice: "allow me to introduce it." "i don't like the look of it at all," said the king: "however, it may kiss my hand if it likes." "i'd rather not," the cat remarked. "don't be impertinent," said the king, "and don't look at me like that!" he got behind alice as he spoke. "a cat may look at a king," said alice. "i've read that in some book, but i don't remember where." "well, it must be removed," said the king very decidedly, and he called to the queen, who was passing at the moment, "my dear! i wish you would have this cat removed!" the queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. "off with his head!" she said, without even looking round. "i'll fetch the executioner myself," said the king eagerly, and he hurried off. alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was going on, as she heard the queen's voice in the distance, screaming with passion. she had already heard her sentence three of the players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not. so she went in search of her hedgehog. the hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into one of the trees. by the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: "but it doesn't matter much," thought alice, "as all the arches are gone from this side of the ground." so she tucked it under her arm, that it might not escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend. when she got back to the cheshire cat, she was surprised to find quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the executioner, the king, and the queen, who were all talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. the moment alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said. [illustration] the executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at _his_ time of life. the king's argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense. the queen's argument was, that if something wasn't done about it in less than no time, she'd have everybody executed all round. (it was this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.) alice could think of nothing else to say but "it belongs to the duchess: you'd better ask _her_ about it." "she's in prison," the queen said to the executioner; "fetch her here." and the executioner went off like an arrow. the cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and by the time he had come back with the duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so the king and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. chapter ix [sidenote: _the mock turtle's story_] "you can't think how glad i am to see you again, you dear old thing!" said the duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into alice's, and they walked off together. alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage when they met in the kitchen. "when _i'm_ a duchess," she said to herself (not in a very hopeful tone though), "i won't have any pepper in my kitchen _at all_. soup does very well without--maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered," she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new kind of rule, "and vinegar that makes them sour--and camomile that makes them bitter--and--barley-sugar and such things that make children sweet-tempered. i only wish people knew _that_: then they wouldn't be so stingy about it, you know----" she had quite forgotten the duchess by this time, and was a little startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. "you're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. i can't tell you just now what the moral of that is, but i shall remember it in a bit." "perhaps it hasn't one," alice ventured to remark. "tut, tut, child!" said the duchess. "every thing's got a moral, if only you can find it." and she squeezed herself up closer to alice's side as she spoke. alice did not much like her keeping so close to her: first, because the duchess was _very_ ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin on alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. however, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well as she could. "the game's going on rather better now," she said, by way of keeping up the conversation a little. "'tis so," said the duchess: "and the moral of that is--'oh, 'tis love, 'tis love, that makes the world go round!'" "somebody said," alice whispered, "that it's done by everybody minding their own business!" "ah, well! it means much the same thing," said the duchess, digging her sharp little chin into alice's shoulder as she added, "and the moral of _that_ is--'take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.'" "how fond she is of finding morals in things!" alice thought to herself. "i dare say you're wondering why i don't put my arm round your waist," the duchess said after a pause: "the reason is, that i'm doubtful about the temper of your flamingo. shall i try the experiment?" "he might bite," alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to have the experiment tried. "very true," said the duchess: "flamingoes and mustard both bite. and the moral of that is--'birds of a feather flock together.'" "only mustard isn't a bird," alice remarked. "right, as usual," said the duchess: "what a clear way you have of putting things!" "it's a mineral, i _think_," said alice. "of course it is," said the duchess, who seemed ready to agree to everything that alice said: "there's a large mustard-mine near here. and the moral of that is--'the more there is of mine, the less there is of yours.'" "oh, i know!" exclaimed alice, who had not attended to this last remark. "it's a vegetable. it doesn't look like one, but it is." "i quite agree with you," said the duchess; "and the moral of that is--'be what you would seem to be'--or if you'd like it put more simply--'never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.'" "i think i should understand that better," alice said very politely, "if i had it written down: but i can't quite follow it as you say it." "that's nothing to what i could say if i chose," the duchess replied, in a pleased tone. "pray don't trouble yourself to say it any longer than that," said alice. "oh, don't talk about trouble!" said the duchess. "i make you a present of everything i've said as yet." "a cheap sort of present!" thought alice. "i'm glad they don't give birthday presents like that!" but she did not venture to say it out loud. "thinking again?" the duchess asked with another dig of her sharp little chin. "i've a right to think," said alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel a little worried. "just about as much right," said the duchess, "as pigs have to fly; and the m----" but here, to alice's great surprise, the duchess's voice died away, even in the middle of her favourite word "moral," and the arm that was linked into hers began to tremble. alice looked up, and there stood the queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. "a fine day, your majesty!" the duchess began in a low, weak voice. "now, i give you fair warning," shouted the queen, stamping on the ground as she spoke; "either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time! take your choice!" the duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. "let's go on with the game," the queen said to alice; and alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet-ground. the other guests had taken advantage of the queen's absence, and were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game, the queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would cost them their lives. [illustration: _the queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting "off with his head!" or, "off with her head!"_] all the time they were playing the queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting "off with his head!" or "off with her head!" those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, except the king, the queen, and alice, were in custody and under sentence of execution. then the queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to alice, "have you seen the mock turtle yet?" "no," said alice. "i don't even know what a mock turtle is." "it's the thing mock turtle soup is made from," said the queen. "i never saw one, or heard of one," said alice. "come on then," said the queen, "and he shall tell you his history." as they walked off together, alice heard the king say in a low voice, to the company generally, "you are all pardoned." "come, _that's_ a good thing!" she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number of executions the queen had ordered. they very soon came upon a gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (if you don't know what a gryphon is, look at the picture.) "up, lazy thing!" said the queen, "and take this young lady to see the mock turtle, and to hear his history. i must go back and see after some executions i have ordered," and she walked off, leaving alice alone with the gryphon. alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage queen: so she waited. the gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the queen till she was out of sight: then it chuckled. "what fun!" said the gryphon, half to itself, half to alice. "what _is_ the fun?" said alice. "why, _she_," said the gryphon. "it's all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know. come on!" "everybody says 'come on!' here," thought alice, as she went slowly after it: "i never was so ordered about in my life, never!" [illustration] they had not gone far before they saw the mock turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. she pitied him deeply. "what is his sorrow?" she asked the gryphon, and the gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, "it's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. come on!" so they went up to the mock turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing. "this here young lady," said the gryphon, "she wants to know your history, she do." "i'll tell it her," said the mock turtle in a deep, hollow tone; "sit down, both of you, and don't speak a word till i've finished." so they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. alice thought to herself, "i don't see how he can _ever_ finish, if he doesn't begin." but she waited patiently. "once," said the mock turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "i was a real turtle." these words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation of "hjckrrh!" from the gryphon, and the constant heavy sobbing of the mock turtle. alice was very nearly getting up and saying "thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could not help thinking there _must_ be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing. "when we were little," the mock turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea. the master was an old turtle--we used to call him tortoise----" "why did you call him tortoise, if he wasn't one?" alice asked. "we called him tortoise because he taught us," said the mock turtle angrily: "really you are very dull!" "you ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question," added the gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. at last the gryphon said to the mock turtle, "drive on, old fellow. don't be all day about it!" and he went on in these words: "yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't believe it----" "i never said i didn't!" interrupted alice. "you did," said the mock turtle. "hold your tongue!" added the gryphon, before alice could speak again. the mock turtle went on:-- "we had the best of educations--in fact, we went to school every day----" "_i've_ been to a day-school, too," said alice; "you needn't be so proud as all that." "with extras?" asked the mock turtle a little anxiously. "yes," said alice, "we learned french and music." "and washing?" said the mock turtle. "certainly not!" said alice indignantly. "ah! then yours wasn't a really good school," said the mock turtle in a tone of relief. "now at _ours_ they had at the end of the bill, 'french, music, _and washing_--extra.'" "you couldn't have wanted it much," said alice; "living at the bottom of the sea." "i couldn't afford to learn it," said the mock turtle with a sigh. "i only took the regular course." "what was that?" inquired alice. "reeling and writhing, of course, to begin with," the mock turtle replied; "and then the different branches of arithmetic--ambition, distraction, uglification, and derision." "i never heard of 'uglification,'" alice ventured to say. "what is it?" the gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. "never heard of uglifying!" it exclaimed. "you know what to beautify is, i suppose?" "yes," said alice doubtfully: "it means--to--make--anything--prettier." "well, then," the gryphon went on, "if you don't know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton." alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the mock turtle and said, "what else had you to learn?" "well, there was mystery," the mock turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers, "--mystery, ancient and modern, with seaography: then drawling--the drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: _he_ taught us drawling, stretching, and fainting in coils." "what was _that_ like?" said alice. "well, i can't show it you myself," the mock turtle said: "i'm too stiff. and the gryphon never learnt it." "hadn't time," said the gryphon: "i went to the classical master, though. he was an old crab, _he_ was." "i never went to him," the mock turtle said with a sigh: "he taught laughing and grief, they used to say." "so he did, so he did," said the gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws. "and how many hours a day did you do lessons?" said alice, in a hurry to change the subject. "ten hours the first day," said the mock turtle: "nine the next, and so on." "what a curious plan!" exclaimed alice. "that's the reason they're called lessons," the gryphon remarked: "because they lessen from day to day." this was quite a new idea to alice, and she thought over it a little before she made her next remark. "then the eleventh day must have been a holiday." "of course it was," said the mock turtle. "and how did you manage on the twelfth?" alice went on eagerly. "that's enough about lessons," the gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone: "tell her something about the games now." chapter x [sidenote: _the lobster quadrille_] the mock turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. he looked at alice, and tried to speak, but, for a minute or two, sobs choked his voice. "same as if he had a bone in his throat," said the gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back. at last the mock turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, went on again: "you may not have lived much under the sea--" ("i haven't," said alice) "and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster--" (alice began to say "i once tasted----" but checked herself hastily, and said "no, never") "--so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a lobster quadrille is!" "no, indeed," said alice. "what sort of a dance is it?" "why," said the gryphon, "you first form into a line along the sea-shore----" "two lines!" cried the mock turtle. "seals, turtles, and so on; then, when you've cleared the jelly-fish out of the way----" "_that_ generally takes some time," interrupted the gryphon. "--you advance twice----" "each with a lobster as a partner!" cried the gryphon. "of course," the mock turtle said: "advance twice, set to partners----" "--change lobsters, and retire in same order," continued the gryphon. "then, you know," the mock turtle went on, "you throw the----" "the lobsters!" shouted the gryphon, with a bound into the air. "--as far out to sea as you can----" "swim, after them!" screamed the gryphon. "turn a somersault in the sea!" cried the mock turtle, capering wildly about. "change lobsters again!" yelled the gryphon. "back to land again, and--that's all the first figure," said the mock turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at alice. "it must be a very pretty dance," said alice, timidly. "would you like to see a little of it?" said the mock turtle. "very much indeed," said alice. "come, let's try the first figure!" said the mock turtle to the gryphon. "we can do it without lobsters, you know. which shall sing?" "oh, _you_ sing," said the gryphon. "i've forgotten the words." so they began solemnly dancing round and round alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to mark the time, while the mock turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:-- "will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, "there's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. see how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! they are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance? will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? "you can really have no notion how delightful it will be, when they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" but the snail replied: "too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. "what matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied; "there is another shore, you know, upon the other side. the further off from england the nearer is to france-- then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?" "thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch," said alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: "and i do so like that curious song about the whiting!" "oh, as to the whiting," said the mock turtle, "they--you've seen them, of course?" "yes," said alice, "i've often seen them at dinn----" she checked herself hastily. "i don't know where dinn may be," said the mock turtle, "but if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're like." "i believe so," alice replied thoughtfully. "they have their tails in their mouths--and they're all over crumbs." "you're wrong about the crumbs," said the mock turtle: "crumbs would all wash off in the sea. but they _have_ their tails in their mouths; and the reason is--" here the mock turtle yawned and shut his eyes. "tell her about the reason and all that," he said to the gryphon. "the reason is," said the gryphon, "that they _would_ go with the lobsters to the dance. so they got thrown out to sea. so they had to fall a long way. so they got their tails fast in their mouths. so they couldn't get them out again. that's all." "thank you," said alice. "it's very interesting. i never knew so much about a whiting before." "i can tell you more than that, if you like," said the gryphon. "do you know why it's called a whiting?" "i never thought about it," said alice. "why?" "_it does the boots and shoes_," the gryphon replied very solemnly. alice was thoroughly puzzled. "does the boots and shoes!" she repeated in a wondering tone. "why, what are _your_ shoes done with?" said the gryphon. "i mean, what makes them so shiny?" alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer. "they're done with blacking, i believe." "boots and shoes under the sea," the gryphon went on in a deep voice, "are done with whiting. now you know." "and what are they made of?" alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. "soles and eels, of course," the gryphon replied rather impatiently: "any shrimp could have told you that." "if i'd been the whiting," said alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, "i'd have said to the porpoise, 'keep back, please: we don't want _you_ with us!'" "they were obliged to have him with them," the mock turtle said: "no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise." "wouldn't it really?" said alice in a tone of great surprise. "of course not," said the mock turtle: "why, if a fish came to _me_, and told me he was going a journey, i should say, 'with what porpoise?'" "don't you mean 'purpose'?" said alice. "i mean what i say," the mock turtle replied in an offended tone. and the gryphon added, "come, let's hear some of _your_ adventures." [illustration: _the mock turtle drew a long breath and said, "that's very curious"_] "i could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning," said alice a little timidly: "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because i was a different person then." "explain all that," said the mock turtle. "no, no! the adventures first," said the gryphon in an impatient tone: "explanations take such a dreadful time." so alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the white rabbit. she was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so _very_ wide, but she gained courage as she went on. her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating "_you are old, father william_," to the caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the mock turtle drew a long breath, and said, "that's very curious." "it's all about as curious as it can be," said the gryphon. "it all came different!" the mock turtle repeated thoughtfully. "i should like to hear her repeat something now. tell her to begin." he looked at the gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over alice. "stand up and repeat '_'tis the voice of the sluggard_,'" said the gryphon. "how the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!" thought alice. "i might as well be at school at once." however, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the lobster quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed:-- "'tis the voice of the lobster; i heard him declare, 'you have baked me too brown, i must sugar my hair.' as a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. when the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, and will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark: but, when the tide rises and sharks are around, his voice has a timid and tremulous sound." "that's different from what _i_ used to say when i was a child," said the gryphon. "well, _i_ never heard it before," said the mock turtle: "but it sounds uncommon nonsense." alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would _ever_ happen in a natural way again. "i should like to have it explained," said the mock turtle. "she ca'n't explain it," hastily said the gryphon. "go on with the next verse." "but about his toes?" the mock turtle persisted. "how _could_ he turn them out with his nose, you know?" "it's the first position in dancing," alice said; but was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. "go on with the next verse," the gryphon repeated: "it begins '_i passed by his garden_.'" alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice: "i passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, how the owl and the panther were sharing a pie: the panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, while the owl had the dish as its share of the treat. when the pie was all finished, the owl, as a boon, was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: while the panther received knife and fork with a growl, and concluded the banquet by----" "what _is_ the use of repeating all that stuff," the mock turtle interrupted, "if you don't explain it as you go on? it's by far the most confusing thing _i_ ever heard!" [illustration] "yes, i think you'd better leave off," said the gryphon: and alice was only too glad to do so. "shall we try another figure of the lobster quadrille?" the gryphon went on. "or would you like the mock turtle to sing you another song?" "oh, a song, please, if the mock turtle would be so kind," alice replied, so eagerly that the gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, "h'm! no accounting for tastes! sing her '_turtle soup_,' will you, old fellow?" the mock turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice choked with sobs, to sing this:-- "beautiful soup, so rich and green, waiting in a hot tureen! who for such dainties would not stoop? soup of the evening, beautiful soup! soup of the evening, beautiful soup! beau--ootiful soo--oop! beau--ootiful soo--oop! soo--oop of the e--e--evening, beautiful, beautiful soup! "beautiful soup! who cares for fish, game, or any other dish? who would not give all else for two pennyworth only of beautiful soup? pennyworth only of beautiful soup? beau--ootiful soo--oop! beau--ootiful soo--oop! soo--oop of the e--e--evening, beautiful, beauti--ful soup!" "chorus again!" cried the gryphon, and the mock turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry of "the trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance. "come on!" cried the gryphon, and, taking alice by the hand, it hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song. "what trial is it?" alice panted as she ran; but the gryphon only answered "come on!" and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:-- "soo--oop of the e--e--evening, beautiful, beautiful soup!" chapter xi [sidenote: _who stole the tarts?_] the king and queen of hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them--all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the king was the white rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. in the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made alice quite hungry to look at them--"i wish they'd get the trial done," she thought, "and hand round the refreshments!" but there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking about her, to pass away the time. alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there. "that's the judge," she said to herself, "because of his great wig." the judge, by the way, was the king; and as he wore his crown over the wig, he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. "and that's the jury-box," thought alice, "and those twelve creatures," (she was obliged to say "creatures," you see, because some of them were animals, and some were birds,) "i suppose they are the jurors." she said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. however, "jurymen" would have done just as well. the twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. "what are they all doing?" alice whispered to the gryphon. "they can't have anything to put down yet, before the trial's begun." [illustration: _who stole the tarts?_] "they're putting down their names," the gryphon whispered in reply, "for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial." "stupid things!" alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped hastily, for the white rabbit cried out "silence in the court!" and the king put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to see who was talking. alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that all the jurors were writing down "stupid things!" on their slates, and she could even make out that one of them didn't know how to spell "stupid," and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. "a nice muddle their slates will be in before the trial's over!" thought alice. one of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. this, of course, alice could _not_ stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. she did it so quickly that the poor little juror (it was bill, the lizard) could not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate. "herald, read the accusation!" said the king. on this the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows: "the queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day: the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite away!" "consider your verdict," the king said to the jury. "not yet, not yet!" the rabbit hastily interrupted. "there's a great deal to come before that!" "call the first witness," said the king; and the rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and called out "first witness!" the first witness was the hatter. he came in with a teacup in one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. "i beg pardon, your majesty," he began, "for bringing these in; but i hadn't quite finished my tea when i was sent for." "you ought to have finished," said the king. "when did you begin?" the hatter looked at the march hare, who had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the dormouse. "fourteenth of march, i _think_ it was," he said. "fifteenth," said the march hare. "sixteenth," said the dormouse. "write that down," the king said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence. "take off your hat," the king said to the hatter. "it isn't mine," said the hatter. "_stolen!_" the king exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a memorandum of the fact. "i keep them to sell," the hatter added as an explanation: "i've none of my own. i'm a hatter." here the queen put on her spectacles, and began staring hard at the hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted. "give your evidence," said the king; "and don't be nervous, or i'll have you executed on the spot." this did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter. just at this moment alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long as there was room for her. "i wish you wouldn't squeeze so," said the dormouse, who was sitting next to her. "i can hardly breathe." "i can't help it," said alice very meekly: "i'm growing." "you've no right to grow _here_," said the dormouse. "don't talk nonsense," said alice more boldly: "you know you're growing too." "yes, but _i_ grow at a reasonable pace," said the dormouse; "not in that ridiculous fashion." and he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the other side of the court. all this time the queen had never left off staring at the hatter, and, just as the dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the court, "bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!" on which the wretched hatter trembled so, that he shook off both his shoes. "give your evidence," the king repeated angrily, "or i'll have you executed, whether you're nervous or not." "i'm a poor man, your majesty," the hatter began, in a trembling voice, "--and i hadn't begun my tea--not above a week or so--and what with the bread-and-butter getting so thin--and the twinkling of the tea----" "the twinkling of _what_?" said the king. "it _began_ with the tea," the hatter replied. "of course twinkling _begins_ with a t!" said the king sharply. "do you take me for a dunce? go on!" "i'm a poor man," the hatter went on, "and most things twinkled after that--only the march hare said----" "i didn't!" the march hare interrupted in a great hurry. "you did!" said the hatter. "i deny it!" said the march hare. "he denies it," said the king: "leave out that part." "well, at any rate, the dormouse said----" the hatter went on, looking anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the dormouse denied nothing, being fast asleep. "after that," continued the hatter, "i cut some more bread-and-butter----" "but what did the dormouse say?" one of the jury asked. "that i can't remember," said the hatter. "you _must_ remember," remarked the king, "or i'll have you executed." the miserable hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went down on one knee. "i'm a poor man, your majesty," he began. "you're a _very_ poor _speaker_," said the king. here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court. (as that is rather a hard word, i will just explain to you how it was done. they had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it.) "i'm glad i've seen that done," thought alice. "i've so often read in the newspapers, at the end of trials, 'there was some attempt at applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,' and i never understood what it meant till now." "if that's all you know about it, you may stand down," continued the king. "i can't go no lower," said the hatter: "i'm on the floor, as it is." "then you may _sit_ down," the king replied. here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. "come, that finishes the guinea-pigs!" thought alice. "now we shall get on better." "i'd rather finish my tea," said the hatter, with an anxious look at the queen, who was reading the list of singers. "you may go," said the king; and the hatter hurriedly left the court, without even waiting to put his shoes on. "--and just take his head off outside," the queen added to one of the officers; but the hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the door. "call the next witness!" said the king. the next witness was the duchess's cook. she carried the pepper-box in her hand, and alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. "give your evidence," said the king. "sha'n't," said the cook. the king looked anxiously at the white rabbit, who said in a low voice, "your majesty must cross-examine _this_ witness." "well, if i must, i must," the king said with a melancholy air, and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, "what are tarts made of?" "pepper, mostly," said the cook. "treacle," said a sleepy voice behind her. "collar that dormouse," the queen shrieked out. "behead that dormouse! turn that dormouse out of court! suppress him! pinch him! off with his whiskers." for some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared. [illustration] "never mind!" said the king, with an air of great relief. "call the next witness." and he added in an undertone to the queen, "really, my dear, _you_ must cross-examine the next witness. it quite makes my forehead ache!" alice watched the white rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very curious to see what the next witness would be like, "--for they haven't got much evidence _yet_," she said to herself. imagine her surprise, when the white rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name "alice!" chapter xii [sidenote: _alice's evidence_] "here!" cried alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of gold-fish she had accidentally upset the week before. "oh, i _beg_ your pardon!" she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of the gold-fish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would die. "the trial cannot proceed," said the king in a very grave voice, "until all the jurymen are back in their proper places--_all_," he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at alice as he said so. alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. she soon got it out again, and put it right; "not that it signifies much," she said to herself; "i should think it would be _quite_ as much use in the trial one way up as the other." as soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except the lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court. "what do you know about this business?" the king said to alice. "nothing," said alice. "nothing _whatever_?" persisted the king. "nothing whatever," said alice. "that's very important," the king said, turning to the jury. they were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the white rabbit interrupted: "_un_important, your majesty means, of course," he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke. "_un_important, of course, i meant," the king hastily said, and went on himself in an undertone,"important--unimportant--unimportant--important----" as if he were trying which word sounded best. some of the jury wrote it down "important," and some "unimportant." alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; "but it doesn't matter a bit," she thought to herself. at this moment the king, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, called out "silence!" and read out from his book, "rule forty-two. _all persons more than a mile high to leave the court._" everybody looked at alice. "_i'm_ not a mile high," said alice. "you are," said the king. "nearly two miles high," added the queen. "well, i sha'n't go, at any rate," said alice: "besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now." "it's the oldest rule in the book," said the king. "then it ought to be number one," said alice. the king turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. "consider your verdict," he said to the jury, in a low trembling voice. "there's more evidence to come yet, please your majesty," said the white rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry: "this paper has just been picked up." "what's in it?" said the queen. "i haven't opened it yet," said the white rabbit, "but it seems to be a letter, written by the prisoner to--to somebody." "it must have been that," said the king, "unless it was written to nobody, which isn't usual, you know." "who is it directed to?" said one of the jurymen. "it isn't directed at all," said the white rabbit; "in fact, there's nothing written on the _outside_." he unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added "it isn't a letter after all: it's a set of verses." "are they in the prisoner's handwriting?" asked another of the jurymen. "no, they're not," said the white rabbit, "and that's the queerest thing about it." (the jury all looked puzzled.) "he must have imitated somebody else's hand," said the king. (the jury all brightened up again.) "please your majesty," said the knave, "i didn't write it, and they can't prove that i did: there's no name signed at the end." "if you didn't sign it," said the king, "that only makes the matter worse. you _must_ have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man." there was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the king had said that day. "that _proves_ his guilt, of course," said the queen: "so, off with----" "it doesn't prove anything of the sort!" said alice. "why, you don't even know what they're about!" "read them," said the king. the white rabbit put on his spectacles. "where shall i begin, please your majesty?" he asked. "begin at the beginning," the king said gravely, "and go on till you come to the end; then stop." there was dead silence in the court, whilst the white rabbit read out these verses:-- "they told me you had been to her, and mentioned me to him: she gave me a good character, but said i could not swim. he sent them word i had not gone, (we know it to be true): if she should push the matter on, what would become of you? i gave her one, they gave him two, you gave us three or more; they all returned from him to you, though they were mine before. if i or she should chance to be involved in this affair, he trusts to you to set them free, exactly as we were. my notion was that you had been (before she had this fit) an obstacle that came between him, and ourselves, and it. don't let him know she liked them best, for this must ever be a secret, kept from all the rest, between yourself and me." "that's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet," said the king, rubbing his hands; "so now let the jury----" "if any of them can explain it," said alice, (she had grown so large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) "i'll give him sixpence. _i_ don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it." the jury all wrote down on their slates, "_she_ doesn't believe there's an atom of meaning in it," but none of them attempted to explain the paper. "if there's no meaning in it," said the king, "that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. and yet i don't know," he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one eye; "i seem to see some meaning in them after all. '----_said i could not swim_--' you can't swim can you?" he added, turning to the knave. the knave shook his head sadly. "do i look like it?" he said. (which he certainly did _not_, being made entirely of cardboard.) "all right, so far," said the king, as he went on muttering over the verses to himself: "'_we know it to be true_--' that's the jury, of course--'_if she should push the matter on_'--that must be the queen--'_what would become of you?_'--what, indeed!--'_i gave her one, they gave him two_--' why, that must be what he did with the tarts, you know----" "but it goes on '_they all returned from him to you_,'" said alice. "why, there they are!" said the king triumphantly, pointing to the tarts on the table. "nothing can be clearer than _that_. then again--'_before she had this fit_--' you never had _fits_, my dear, i think?" he said to the queen. "never!" said the queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the lizard as she spoke. (the unfortunate little bill had left off writing on his slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.) "then the words don't _fit_ you," said the king, looking round the court with a smile. there was a dead silence. "it's a pun!" the king added in an angry tone, and everybody laughed. "let the jury consider their verdict," the king said, for about the twentieth time that day. "no, no!" said the queen. "sentence first--verdict afterwards." "stuff and nonsense!" said alice loudly. "the idea of having the sentence first!" "hold your tongue!" said the queen, turning purple. "i won't!" said alice. "off with her head!" the queen shouted at the top of her voice. nobody moved. "who cares for _you_?" said alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). "you're nothing but a pack of cards!" [illustration: _at this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her_] at this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. "wake up, alice dear!" said her sister. "why, what a long sleep you've had!" "oh, i've had such a curious dream!" said alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said "it _was_ a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late." so alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been. but her sister sat still just as she had left her, leaning her head, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little alice and all her wonderful adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream: first, she dreamed of little alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers--she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that _would_ always get into her eyes--and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's dream. the long grass rustled at her feet as the white rabbit hurried by--the frightened mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool--she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the march hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution--once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the duchess' knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it--once more the shriek of the gryphon, the squeaking of the lizard's slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable mock turtle. so she sat on with closed eyes, and half believed herself in wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality--the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds--the rattling teacups would change to the tinkling sheep-bells, and the queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy--and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard--while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the mock turtle's heavy sobs. lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make _their_ eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days. the end illustrations reproduced by hentschel colourtype text printed by ballantyne & company ltd at the ballantyne press tavistock street london * * * * * transcriber's notes: page , opening quote added to text (doorway; "and even if) page , "she" changed to "she's" (and she's such a) page , "quiet" changed to "quite" (i'm quite tired of) page , colon changed to period (arm, yer honour.) page , "wont" changed to "want" (want to stay) page , closing quotation mark added (to-morrow----") page , single quotation mark changed to double (cat," said the duchess) page , word "to" added to text (minute or two to) page , word "as" added to the text (just as she had) page , "hedge-hog" changed to "hedgehog" (send the hedgehog to) page , end parenthesis added ("no, never") page , added an apostrophe (what's in it?) beverly of graustark by george barr mccutcheon contents i east of the setting sun ii beverly calhoun iii on the road from balak iv the ragged retinue v the inn of the hawk and raven vi the home of the lion vii some facts and fancies viii through the ganlook gates ix the redoubtable dangloss x inside the castle walls xi the royal coach of graustark xii in service xiii the three princes xiv a visit and its consequences xv the testing of baldos xvi on the way to st. valentine's xvii a note translated xviii confessions and concessions xix the night fires xx gossip of some consequence xxi the rose xxii a proposal xxiii a shot in the darkness xxiv beneath the ground xxv the valor of the south xxvi the degradation of marlanx xxvii the prince of dawsbergen xxviii a boy disappears xxix the capture of gabriel xxx in the grotto xxxi clear skies beverly of graustark chapter i east of the setting sun far off in the mountain lands, somewhere to the east of the setting sun, lies the principality of graustark, serene relic of rare old feudal days. the traveler reaches the little domain after an arduous, sometimes perilous journey from the great european capitals, whether they be north or south or west--never east. he crosses great rivers and wide plains; he winds through fertile valleys and over barren plateaus; he twists and turns and climbs among sombre gorges and rugged mountains; he touches the cold clouds in one day and the placid warmth of the valley in the next. one does not go to graustark for a pleasure jaunt. it is too far from the rest of the world and the ways are often dangerous because of the strife among the tribes of the intervening mountains. if one hungers for excitement and peril he finds it in the journey from the north or the south into the land of the graustarkians. from vienna and other places almost directly west the way is not so full of thrills, for the railroad skirts the darkest of the dangerlands. once in the heart of graustark, however, the traveler is charmed into dreams of peace and happiness and--paradise. the peasants and the poets sing in one voice and accord, their psalm being of never-ending love. down in the lowlands and up in the hills, the simple worker of the soil rejoices that he lives in graustark; in the towns and villages the humble merchant and his thrifty customer unite to sing the song of peace and contentment; in the palaces of the noble the same patriotism warms its heart with thoughts of graustark, the ancient. prince and pauper strike hands for the love of the land, while outside the great, heartless world goes rumbling on without a thought of the rare little principality among the eastern mountains. in point of area, graustark is but a mite in the great galaxy of nations. glancing over the map of the world, one is almost sure to miss the infinitesimal patch of green that marks its location. one could not be blamed if he regarded the spot as a typographical or topographical illusion. yet the people of this quaint little land hold in their hearts a love and a confidence that is not surpassed by any of the lordly monarchs who measure their patriotism by miles and millions. the graustarkians are a sturdy, courageous race. from the faraway century when they fought themselves clear of the tartar yoke, to this very hour, they have been warriors of might and valor. the boundaries of their tiny domain were kept inviolate for hundreds of years, and but one victorious foe had come down to lay siege to edelweiss, the capital. axphain, a powerful principality in the north, had conquered graustark in the latter part of the nineteenth century, but only after a bitter war in which starvation and famine proved far more destructive than the arms of the victors. the treaty of peace and the indemnity that fell to the lot of vanquished graustark have been discoursed upon at length in at least one history. those who have followed that history must know, of course, that the reigning princess, yetive, was married to a young american at the very tag-end of the nineteenth century. this admirable couple met in quite romantic fashion while the young sovereign was traveling incognito through the united states of america. the american, a splendid fellow named lorry, was so persistent in the subsequent attack upon her heart, that all ancestral prejudices were swept away and she became his bride with the full consent of her entranced subjects. the manner in which he wooed and won this young and adorable ruler forms a very attractive chapter in romance, although unmentioned in history. this being the tale of another day, it is not timely to dwell upon the interesting events which led up to the marriage of the princess yetive to grenfall lorry. suffice it to say that lorry won his bride against all wishes and odds and at the same time won an endless love and esteem from the people of the little kingdom among the eastern hills two years have passed since that notable wedding in edelweiss. lorry and his wife, the princess, made their home in washington, but spent a few months of each year in edelweiss. during the periods spent in washington and in travel, her affairs in graustark were in the hands of a capable, austere old diplomat--her uncle, count caspar halfont. princess volga reigned as regent over the principality of axphain. to the south lay the principality of dawsbergen, ruled by young prince dantan, whose half brother, the deposed prince gabriel, had been for two years a prisoner in graustark, the convicted assassin of prince lorenz, of axphain, one time suitor for the hand of yetive. it was after the second visit of the lorrys to edelweiss that a serious turn of affairs presented itself. gabriel had succeeded in escaping from his dungeon. his friends in dawsbergen stirred up a revolution and dantan was driven from the throne at serros. on the arrival of gabriel at the capital, the army of dawsbergen espoused the cause of the prince it had spurned and, three days after his escape, he was on his throne, defying yetive and offering a price for the head of the unfortunate dantan, now a fugitive in the hills along the graustark frontier. chapter ii beverly calhoun major george calhoun was a member of congress from one of the southern states. his forefathers had represented the same commonwealth, and so, it was likely, would his descendants, if there is virtue in the fitness of things and the heredity of love. while intrepid frontiersmen were opening the trails through the fertile wilds west of the alleghanies, a strong branch of the calhoun family followed close in their footsteps. the major's great-grandfather saw the glories and the possibilities of the new territory. he struck boldly westward from the old revolutionary grounds, abandoning the luxuries and traditions of the carolinas for a fresh, wild life of promise. his sons and daughters became solid stones in the foundation of a commonwealth, and his grandchildren are still at work on the structure. state and national legislatures had known the calhouns from the beginning. battlefields had tested their valor, and drawing-rooms had proved their gentility. major calhoun had fought with stonewall jackson and won his spurs--and at the same time the heart and hand of betty haswell, the staunchest confederate who ever made flags, bandages and prayers for the boys in gray. when the reconstruction came he went to congress and later on became prominent in the united states consular service, for years holding an important european post. congress claimed him once more in the early ' s, and there he is at this very time. everybody in washington's social and diplomatic circles admired the beautiful beverly calhoun. according to his own loving term of identification, she was the major's "youngest." the fair southerner had seen two seasons in the nation's capital. cupid, standing directly in front of her, had shot his darts ruthlessly and resistlessly into the passing hosts, and masculine washington looked humbly to her for the balm that might soothe its pains. the wily god of love was fair enough to protect the girl whom he forced to be his unwilling, perhaps unconscious, ally. he held his impenetrable shield between her heart and the assaults of a whole army of suitors, high and low, great and small. it was not idle rumor that said she had declined a coronet or two, that the millions of more than one american midas had been offered to her, and that she had dealt gently but firmly with a score of hearts which had nothing but love, ambition and poverty to support them in the conflict. the calhouns lived in a handsome home not far from the residence of mr. and mrs. grenfall lorry. it seemed but natural that the two beautiful young women should become constant and loyal friends. women as lovely as they have no reason to be jealous. it is only the woman who does not feel secure of her personal charms that cultivates envy. at the home of graustark's princess beverly met the dukes and barons from the far east; it was in the warmth of the calhoun hospitality that yetive formed her dearest love for the american people. miss beverly was neither tall nor short. she was of that divine and indefinite height known as medium; slender but perfectly molded; strong but graceful, an absolutely healthy young person whose beauty knew well how to take care of itself. being quite heart-whole and fancy-free, she slept well, ate well, and enjoyed every minute of life. in her blood ran the warm, eager impulses of the south; hereditary love of case and luxury displayed itself in every emotion; the perfectly normal demand upon men's admiration was as characteristic in her as it is in any daughter of the land whose women are born to expect chivalry and homage. a couple of years in a new york "finishing school" for young ladies had served greatly to modify miss calhoun's colloquial charms. many of her delightful "way down south" phrases and mannerisms were blighted by the cold, unromantic atmosphere of a seminary conducted by two ladies from boston who were too old to marry, too penurious to love and too prim to think that other women might care to do both. there were times, however,--if she were excited or enthusiastic,--when pretty beverly so far forgot her training as to break forth with a very attractive "yo' all," "suah 'nough," or "go 'long naow." and when the bands played "dixie" she was not afraid to stand up and wave her handkerchief. the northerner who happened to be with her on such occasions usually found himself doing likewise before he could escape the infection. miss calhoun's face was one that painters coveted deep down in their artistic souls. it never knew a dull instant; there was expression in every lineament, in every look; life, genuine life, dwelt in the mobile countenance that turned the head of every man and woman who looked upon it. her hair was dark-brown and abundant; her eyes were a deep gray and looked eagerly from between long lashes of black; her lips were red and ever willing to smile or turn plaintive as occasion required; her brow was broad and fair, and her frown was as dangerous as a smile. as to her age, if the major admitted, somewhat indiscreetly, that all his children were old enough to vote, her mother, with the reluctance born in women, confessed that she was past twenty, so a year or two either way will determine miss beverly's age, so far as the telling of this story is concerned. her eldest brother--keith calhoun (the one with the congressional heritage)--thought she was too young to marry, while her second brother, dan, held that she soon would be too old to attract men with matrimonial intentions. lucy, the only sister, having been happily wedded for ten years, advised her not to think of marriage until she was old enough to know her own mind. toward the close of one of the most brilliant seasons the capital had ever known, less than a fortnight before congress was to adjourn, the wife of grenfall lorry received the news which spread gloomy disappointment over the entire social realm. a dozen receptions, teas and balls were destined to lose their richest attraction, and hostesses were in despair. the princess had been called to graustark. beverly calhoun was miserably unhappy. she had heard the story of gabriel's escape and the consequent probability of a conflict with axphain. it did not require a great stretch of imagination to convince her that the lorrys were hurrying off to scenes of intrigue, strife and bloodshed, and that not only graustark but its princess was in jeopardy. miss calhoun's most cherished hopes faded with the announcement that trouble, not pleasure, called yetive to edelweiss. it had been their plan that beverly should spend the delightful summer months in graustark, a guest at the royal palace. the original arrangements of the lorrys were hopelessly disturbed by the late news from count halfont. they were obliged to leave washington two months earlier than they intended, and they could not take beverly calhoun into danger-ridden graustark. the contemplated visit to st. petersburg and other pleasures had to be abandoned, and they were in tears. yetive's maids were packing the trunks, and lorry's servants were in a wild state of haste preparing for the departure on saturday's ship. on friday afternoon, beverly was naturally where she could do the most good and be of the least help--at the lorrys'. self-confessedly, she delayed the preparations. respectful maidservants and respectful menservants came often to the princess's boudoir to ask questions, and beverly just as frequently made tearful resolutions to leave the household in peace--if such a hullaballoo could be called peace. callers came by the dozen, but yetive would see no one. letters, telegrams and telephone calls almost swamped her secretary; the footman and the butler fairly gasped under the strain of excitement. through it all the two friends sat despondent and alone in the drear room that once had been the abode of pure delight. grenfall lorry was off in town closing up all matters of business that could be despatched at once. the princess and her industrious retinue were to take the evening express for new york and the next day would find them at sea. "i know i shall cry all summer," vowed miss calhoun, with conviction in her eyes. "it's just too awful for anything." she was lying back among the cushions of the divan and her hat was the picture of cruel neglect. for three solid hours she had stubbornly withstood yetive's appeals to remove her hat, insisting that she could not trust herself to stay more than a minute or two. "it seems to me, yetive, that your jailers must be very incompetent or they wouldn't have let loose all this trouble upon you," she complained. "prince gabriel is the very essence of trouble," confessed yetive, plaintively. "he was born to annoy people, just like the evil prince in the fairy tales." "i wish we had him over here," the american girl answered stoutly. "he wouldn't be such a trouble i'm sure. we don't let small troubles worry us very long, you know." "but he's dreadfully important over there, beverly; that's the difficult part of it," said yetive, solemnly. "you see, he is a condemned murderer." "then, you ought to hang him or electrocute him or whatever it is that you do to murderers over there," promptly spoke beverly. "but, dear, you don't understand. he won't permit us either to hang or to electrocute him, my dear. the situation is precisely the reverse, if he is correctly quoted by my uncle. when uncle caspar sent an envoy to inform dawsbergen respectfully that graustark would hold it personally responsible if gabriel were not surrendered, gabriel himself replied: 'graustark be hanged!'" "how rude of him, especially when your uncle was so courteous about it. he must be a very disagreeable person," announced miss calhoun. "i am sure you wouldn't like him," said the princess. "his brother, who has been driven from the throne--and from the capital, in fact--is quite different. i have not seen him, but my ministers regard him as a splendid young man." "oh, how i hope he may go back with his army and annihilate that old gabriel!" cried beverly, frowning fiercely. "alas," sighed the princess, "he hasn't an army, and besides he is finding it extremely difficult to keep from being annihilated himself. the army has gone over to prince gabriel." "pooh!" scoffed miss calhoun, who was thinking of the enormous armies the united states can produce at a day's notice. "what good is a ridiculous little army like his, anyway? a battalion from fort thomas could beat it to--" "don't boast, dear," interrupted yetive, with a wan smile. "dawsbergen has a standing army of ten thousand excellent soldiers. with the war reserves she has twice the available force i can produce." "but your men are so brave," cried beverly, who had heard their praises sung. "true, god bless them; but you forget that we must attack gabriel in his own territory. to recapture him means a perilous expedition into the mountains of dawsbergen, and i am sorely afraid. oh, dear, i hope he'll surrender peaceably!" "and go back to jail for life?" cried miss calhoun. "it's a good deal to expect of him, dear. i fancy it's much better fun kicking up a rumpus on the outside than it is kicking one's toes off against an obdurate stone wall from the inside. you can't blame him for fighting a bit." "no--i suppose not," agreed the princess, miserably. "gren is actually happy over the miserable affair, beverly. he is full of enthusiasm and positively aching to be in graustark--right in the thick of it all. to hear him talk, one would think that prince gabriel has no show at all. he kept me up till four o'clock this morning telling me that dawsbergen didn't know what kind of a snag it was going up against. i have a vague idea what he means by that; his manner did not leave much room for doubt. he also said that we would jolt dawsbergen off the map. it sounds encouraging, at least, doesn't it?" "it sounds very funny for you to say those things," admitted beverly, "even though they come secondhand. you were not cut out for slang." "why, i'm sure they are all good english words," remonstrated yetive. "oh, dear, i wonder what they are doing in graustark this very instant. are they fighting or--" "no; they are merely talking. don't you know, dear, that there is never a fight until both sides have talked themselves out of breath? we shall have six months of talk and a week or two of fight, just as they always do nowadays." "oh, you americans have such a comfortable way of looking at things," cried the princess. "don't you ever see the serious side of life?" "my dear, the american always lets the other fellow see the serious side of life," said beverly. "you wouldn't be so optimistic if a country much bigger and more powerful than america happened to be the other fellow." "it did sound frightfully boastful, didn't it? it's the way we've been brought up, i reckon,--even we southerners who know what it is to be whipped. the idea of a girl like me talking about war and trouble and all that! it's absurd, isn't it?" "nevertheless, i wish i could see things through those dear gray eyes of yours. oh, how i'd like to have you with me through all the months that are to come. you would be such a help to me--such a joy. nothing would seem so hard if you were there to make me see things through your brave american eyes." the princess put her arms about beverly's neck and drew her close. "but mr. lorry possesses an excellent pair of american eyes," protested miss beverly, loyally and very happily. "i know, dear, but they are a man's eyes. somehow, there is a difference, you know. i wouldn't dare cry when he was looking, but i could boo-hoo all day if you were there to comfort me. he thinks i am very brave--and i'm not," she confessed, dismally. "oh, i'm an awful coward," explained beverly, consolingly. "i think you are the bravest girl in all the world," she added. "don't you remember what you did at--" and then she recalled the stories that had come from graustark ahead of the bridal party two years before. yetive was finally obliged to place her hand on the enthusiastic visitor's lips. "peace," she cried, blushing. "you make me feel like a--a--what is it you call her--a dime-novel heroine?" "a yellow-back girl? never!" exclaimed beverly, severely. visitors of importance in administration circles came at this moment and the princess could not refuse to see them. beverly calhoun reluctantly departed, but not until after giving a promise to accompany the lorrys to the railway station. * * * * * the trunks had gone to be checked, and the household was quieter than it had been in many days. there was an air of depression about the place that had its inception in the room upstairs where sober-faced halkins served dinner for a not over-talkative young couple. "it will be all right, dearest," said lorry, divining his wife's thoughts as she sat staring rather soberly straight ahead of her, "just as soon as we get to edelweiss, the whole affair will look so simple that we can laugh at the fears of to-day. you see, we are a long way off just now." "i am only afraid of what may happen before we get there, gren," she said, simply. he leaned over and kissed her hand, smiling at the emphasis she unconsciously placed on the pronoun. beverly calhoun was announced just before coffee was served, and a moment later was in the room. she stopped just inside the door, clicked her little heels together and gravely brought her hand to "salute." her eyes were sparkling and her lips trembled with suppressed excitement. "i think i can report to you in edelweiss next month, general," she announced, with soldierly dignity. her hearers stared at the picturesque recruit, and halkins so far forgot himself as to drop mr. lorry's lump of sugar upon the table instead of into the cup. "explain yourself, sergeant!" finally fell from lorry's lips. the eyes of the princess were beginning to take on a rapturous glow. "may i have a cup of coffee, please, sir? i've been so excited i couldn't eat a mouthful at home." she gracefully slid into the chair halkins offered, and broke into an ecstatic giggle that would have resulted in a court-martial had she been serving any commander but love. with a plenteous supply of southern idioms she succeeded in making them understand that the major had promised to let her visit friends in the legation at st. petersburg in april a month or so after the departure of the lorrys. "he wanted to know where i'd rather spend the spring--washin'ton or lexin'ton, and i told him st. petersburg. we had a terrific discussion and neither of us ate a speck at dinner. mamma said it would be all right for me to go to st. petersburg if aunt josephine was still of a mind to go, too. you see, auntie was scared almost out of her boots when she heard there was prospect of war in graustark, just as though a tiny little war like that could make any difference away up in russia--hundreds of thousands of miles away--" (with a scornful wave of the hand)--"and then i just made auntie say she'd go to st. petersburg in april--a whole month sooner than she expected to go in the first place--and--" "you dear, dear beverly!" cried yetive, rushing joyously around the table to clasp her in her arms. "and st. petersburg really isn't a hundred thousand miles from edelweiss," cried beverly, gaily. "it's much less than that," said lorry, smiling, "but you surely don't expect to come to edelweiss if we are fighting. we couldn't think of letting you do that, you know. your mother would never--" "my mother wasn't afraid of a much bigger war than yours can ever hope to be," cried beverly, resentfully. "you can't stop me if i choose to visit graustark." "does your father know that you contemplate such a trip?" asked lorry, returning her handclasp and looking doubtfully into the swimming blue eyes of his wife. "no, he doesn't," admitted beverly, a trifle aggressively. "he could stop you, you know," he suggested. yetive was discreetly silent. "but he won't know anything about it," cried beverly triumphantly. "i could tell him, you know," said lorry. "no, you _couldn't_ do anything so mean as that," announced beverly. "you're not that sort." chapter iii on the road from balak a ponderous coach lumbered slowly, almost painfully, along the narrow road that skirted the base of a mountain. it was drawn by four horses, and upon the seat sat two rough, unkempt russians, one holding the reins, the other lying back in a lazy doze. the month was june and all the world seemed soft and sweet and joyous. to the right flowed a turbulent mountain stream, boiling savagely with the alien waters of the flood season. ahead of the creaking coach rode four horsemen, all heavily armed; another quartette followed some distance in the rear. at the side of the coach an officer of the russian mounted police was riding easily, jangling his accoutrements with a vigor that disheartened at least one occupant of the vehicle. the windows of the coach doors were lowered, permitting the fresh mountain air to caress fondly the face of the young woman who tried to find comfort in one of the broad seats. since early morn she had struggled with the hardships of that seat, and the late afternoon found her very much out of patience. the opposite seat was the resting place of a substantial colored woman and a stupendous pile of bags and boxes. the boxes were continually toppling over and the bags were forever getting under the feet of the once placid servant, whose face, quite luckily, was much too black to reflect the anger she was able, otherwise, through years of practice, to conceal. "how much farther have we to go, lieutenant?" asked the girl on the rear seat, plaintively, even humbly. the man was very deliberate with his english. he had been recommended to her as the best linguist in the service at radovitch, and he had a reputation to sustain. "it another hour is but yet," he managed to inform her, with a confident smile. "oh, dear," she sighed, "a whole hour of this!" "we soon be dar, miss bev'ly; jes' yo' mak' up yo' mine to res' easy-like, an' we--" but the faithful old colored woman's advice was lost in the wrathful exclamation that accompanied another dislodgment of bags and boxes. the wheels of the coach had dropped suddenly into a deep rut. aunt fanny's growls were scarcely more potent than poor miss beverly's moans. "it is getting worse and worse," exclaimed aunt fanny's mistress, petulantly. "i'm black and blue from head to foot, aren't you, aunt fanny?" "ah cain' say as to de blue, miss bev'ly. hit's a mos' monstrous bad road, sho 'nough. stay up dar, will yo'!" she concluded, jamming a bag into an upper corner. miss calhoun, tourist extraordinary, again consulted the linguist in the saddle. she knew at the outset that the quest would be hopeless, but she could think of no better way to pass the next hour then to extract a mite of information from the officer. "now for a good old chat," she said, beaming a smile upon the grizzled russian. "is there a decent hotel in the village?" she asked. they were on the edge of the village before she succeeded in finding out all that she could, and it was not a great deal, either. she learned that the town of balak was in axphain, scarcely a mile from the graustark line. there was an eating and sleeping house on the main street, and the population of the place did not exceed three hundred. when miss beverly awoke the next morning, sore and distressed, she looked back upon the night with a horror that sleep had been kind enough to interrupt only at intervals. the wretched hostelry lived long in her secret catalogue of terrors. her bed was not a bed; it was a torture. the room, the table, the--but it was all too odious for description. fatigue was her only friend in that miserable hole. aunt fanny had slept on the floor near her mistress's cot, and it was the good old colored woman's grumbling that awoke beverly. the sun was climbing up the mountains in the east, and there was an air of general activity about the place. beverly's watch told her that it was past eight o'clock. "good gracious!" she exclaimed. "it's nearly noon, aunt fanny. hurry along here and get me up. we must leave this abominable place in ten minutes." she was up and racing about excitedly. "befo' breakfas'?" demanded aunt fanny weakly. "goodness, aunt fanny, is that all you think about?" "well, honey, yo' all be thinkin' moughty serious 'bout breakfas' 'long to'ahds 'leben o'clock. dat li'l tummy o' yourn 'll be pow'ful mad 'cause yo' didn'--" "very well, aunt fanny, you can run along and have the woman put up a breakfast for us and we'll eat it on the road. i positively refuse to eat another mouthful in that awful dining-room. i'll be down in ten minutes." she was down in less. sleep, no matter how hard-earned, had revived her spirits materially. she pronounced herself ready for anything; there was a wholesome disdain for the rigors of the coming ride through the mountains in the way she gave orders for the start. the russian officer met her just outside the entrance to the inn. he was less english than ever, but he eventually gave her to understand that he had secured permission to escort her as far as ganlook, a town in graustark not more than fifteen miles from edelweiss and at least two days from balak. two competent axphainian guides had been retained, and the party was quite ready to start. he had been warned of the presence of brigands in the wild mountainous passes north of ganlook. the russians could go no farther than ganlook because of a royal edict from edelweiss forbidding the nearer approach of armed forces. at that town, however, he was sure she easily could obtain an escort of graustarkian soldiers. as the big coach crawled up the mountain road and further into the oppressive solitudes, beverly calhoun drew from the difficult lieutenant considerable information concerning the state of affairs in graustark. she had been eagerly awaiting the time when something definite could be learned. before leaving st. petersburg early in the week she was assured that a state of war did not exist. the princess yetive had been in edelweiss for six weeks. a formal demand was framed soon after her return from america, requiring dawsbergen to surrender the person of prince gabriel to the authorities of graustark. to this demand there was no definite response, dawsbergen insolently requesting time in which to consider the proposition. axphain immediately sent an envoy to edelweiss to say that all friendly relations between the two governments would cease unless graustark took vigorous steps to recapture the royal assassin. on one side of the unhappy principality a strong, overbearing princess was egging graustark on to fight, while on the other side an equally aggressive people defied yetive to come and take the fugitive if she could. the poor princess was between two ugly alternatives, and a struggle seemed inevitable. at balak it was learned that axphain had recently sent a final appeal to the government of graustark, and it was no secret that something like a threat accompanied the message. prince gabriel was in complete control at serros and was disposed to laugh at the demands of his late captors. his half-brother, the dethroned prince dantan, was still hiding in the fastnesses of the hills, protected by a small company of nobles, and there was no hope that he ever could regain his crown. gabriel's power over the army was supreme. the general public admired dantan, but it was helpless in the face of circumstances. "but why should axphain seek to harass graustark at this time?" demanded beverly calhoun, in perplexity and wrath. "i should think the brutes would try to help her." "there is an element of opposition to the course the government is taking," the officer informed her in his own way, "but it is greatly in the minority. the axphainians have hated graustark since the last war, and the princess despises this american. it is an open fact that the duke of mizrox leads the opposition to princess volga, and she is sure to have him beheaded if the chance affords. he is friendly to graustark and has been against the policy of his princess from the start." "i'd like to hug the duke of mizrox," cried beverly, warmly. the officer did not understand her, but aunt fanny was scandalized. "good lawd!" she muttered to the boxes and bags. as the coach rolled deeper and deeper into the rock-shadowed wilderness, beverly calhoun felt an undeniable sensation of awe creeping over her. the brave, impetuous girl had plunged gaily into the project which now led her into the deadliest of uncertainties, with but little thought of the consequences. the first stage of the journey by coach had been good fun. they had passed along pleasant roads, through quaint villages and among interesting people, and progress had been rapid. the second stage had presented rather terrifying prospects, and the third day promised even greater vicissitudes. looking from the coach windows out upon the quiet, desolate grandeur of her surroundings, poor beverly began to appreciate how abjectly helpless and alone she was. her companions were ugly, vicious-looking men, any one of whom could inspire terror by a look. she had entrusted herself to the care of these strange creatures in the moment of inspired courage and now she was constrained to regret her action. true, they had proved worthy protectors as far as they had gone, but the very possibilities that lay in their power were appalling, now that she had time to consider the situation. the officer in charge had been recommended as a trusted servant of the czar; an american consul had secured the escort for her direct from the frontier patrol authorities. men high in power had vouched for the integrity of the detachment, but all this was forgotten in the mighty solitude of the mountains. she was beginning to fear her escort more than she feared the brigands of the hills. treachery seemed printed on their backs as they rode ahead of her. the big officer was ever polite and alert, but she was ready to distrust him on the slightest excuse. these men could not help knowing that she was rich, and it was reasonable for them to suspect that she carried money and jewels with her. in her mind's eye she could picture these traitors rifling her bags and boxes in some dark pass, and then there were other horrors that almost petrified her when she allowed herself to think of them. here and there the travelers passed by rude cots where dwelt woodmen and mountaineers, and at long intervals a solitary but picturesque horseman stood aside and gave them the road. as the coach penetrated deeper into the gorge, signs of human life and activity became fewer. the sun could not send his light into this shadowy tomb of granite. the rattle of the wheels and the clatter of the horses' hoofs sounded like a constant crash of thunder in the ears of the tender traveler, a dainty morsel among hawks and wolves. there was an unmistakable tremor in her voice when she at last found heart to ask the officer where they were to spend the night. it was far past noon and aunt fanny had suggested opening the lunch-baskets. one of the guides was called back, the leader being as much in the dark as his charge. "there is no village within twenty miles," he said, "and we must sleep in the pass." beverly's voice faltered. "out here in all this awful--" then she caught herself quickly. it came to her suddenly that she must not let these men see that she was apprehensive. her voice was a trifle shrill and her eyes glistened with a strange new light as she went on, changing her tack completely: "how romantic! i've often wanted to do something like this." the officer looked bewildered, and said nothing. aunt fanny was speechless. later on, when the lieutenant had gone ahead to confer with the guides about the suspicious actions of a small troop of horsemen they had seen, beverly confided to the old negress that she was frightened almost out of her boots, but that she'd die before the men should see a sign of cowardice in a calhoun. aunt fanny was not so proud and imperious. it was with difficulty that her high-strung young mistress suppressed the wails that long had been under restraint in aunt fanny's huge and turbulent bosom. "good lawd, miss bev'ly, dey'll chop us all to pieces an' take ouah jewl'ry an' money an' clo'es and ev'ything else we done got about us. good lawd, le's tu'n back, miss bev'ly. we ain' got no mo' show out heah in dese mountings dan a--" "be still, aunt fanny!" commanded beverly, with a fine show of courage. "you must be brave. don't you see we can't turn back? it's just as dangerous and a heap sight more so. if we let on we're not one bit afraid they'll respect us, don't you see, and men never harm women whom they respect." "umph!" grunted aunt fanny, with exaggerated irony. "well, they never do!" maintained beverly, who was not at all sure about it. "and they look like real nice men--honest men, even though they have such awful whiskers." "dey's de wust trash ah eveh did see," exploded aunt fanny. "sh! don't let them hear you," whispered beverly. in spite of her terror and perplexity, she was compelled to smile. it was all so like the farce comedies one sees at the theatre. as the officer rode up, his face was pale in the shadowy light of the afternoon and he was plainly nervous. "what is the latest news from the front?" she inquired cheerfully. "the men refuse to ride on," he exclaimed, speaking rapidly, making it still harder for her to understand. "our advance guard has met a party of hunters from axphain. they insist that you--'the fine lady in the coach'--are the princess yetive, returning from a secret visit to st. petersburg, where you went to plead for assistance from the czar." beverly calhoun gasped in astonishment. it was too incredible to believe. it was actually ludicrous. she laughed heartily. "how perfectly absurd." "i am well aware that you are not the princess yetive," he continued emphatically; "but what can i do; the men won't believe me. they swear they have been tricked and are panic-stricken over the situation. the hunters tell them that the axphain authorities, fully aware of the hurried flight of the princess through these wilds, are preparing to intercept her. a large detachment of soldiers are already across the graustark frontier. it is only a question of time before the 'red legs' will be upon them. i have assured them that their beautiful charge is not the princess, but an american girl, and that there is no mystery about the coach and escort. all in vain. the axphain guides already feel that their heads are on the block; while as for the cossacks, not even my dire threats of the awful anger of the white czar, when he finds they have disobeyed his commands, will move them." "speak to your men once more, sir, and promise them big purses of gold when we reach ganlook. i have no money or valuables with me; but there i can obtain plenty," said beverly, shrewdly thinking it better that they should believe her to be without funds. the cavalcade had halted during this colloquy. all the men were ahead conversing sullenly and excitedly with much gesticulation. the driver, a stolid creature, seemingly indifferent to all that was going on, alone remained at his post. the situation, apparently dangerous, was certainly most annoying. but if beverly could have read the mind of that silent figure on the box, she would have felt slightly relieved, for he was infinitely more anxious to proceed than even she; but from far different reasons. he was a russian convict, who had escaped on the way to siberia. disguised as a coachman he was seeking life and safety in graustark, or any out-of-the-way place. it mattered little to him where the escort concluded to go. he was going ahead. he dared not go back--he must go on. at the end of half an hour, the officer returned; all hope had gone from his face. "it is useless!" he cried out. "the guides refuse to proceed. see! they are going off with their countrymen! we are lost without them. i do not know what to do. we cannot get to ganlook; i do not know the way, and the danger is great. ah! madam! here they come! the cossacks are going back." as he spoke, the surly mutineers were riding slowly towards the coach. every man had his pistol on the high pommel of the saddle. their faces wore an ugly look. as they passed the officer, one of them, pointing ahead of him with his sword, shouted savagely, "balak!" it was conclusive and convincing. they were deserting her. "oh, oh, oh! the cowards!" sobbed beverly in rage and despair. "i must go on! is it possible that even such men would leave--" she was interrupted by the voice of the officer, who, raising his cap to her, commanded at the same time the driver to turn his horses and follow the escort to balak. "what is that?" demanded beverly in alarm. from far off came the sound of firearms. a dozen shots were fired, and reverberated down through the gloomy pass ahead of the coach. "they are fighting somewhere in the hills in front of us," answered the now frightened officer. turning quickly, he saw the deserting horsemen halt, listen a minute, and then spur their horses. he cried out sharply to the driver, "come, there! turn round! we have no time to lose!" with a savage grin, the hitherto motionless driver hurled some insulting remark at the officer, who was already following his men, now in full flight down the road, and settling himself firmly on the seat, taking a fresh grip of the reins, he yelled to his horses, at the same time lashing them furiously with his whip, and started the coach ahead at a fearful pace. his only thought was to get away as far as possible from the russian officer, then deliberately desert the coach and its occupants and take to the hills. chapter iv the ragged retinue thoroughly mystified by the action of the driver and at length terrified by the pace that carried them careening along the narrow road, beverly cried out to him, her voice shrill with alarm. aunt fanny was crouching on the floor of the coach, between the seats, groaning and praying. "stop! where are you going?" cried beverly, putting her head recklessly through the window. if the man heard her he gave no evidence of the fact. his face was set forward and he was guiding the horses with a firm, unquivering hand. the coach rattled and bounded along the dangerous way hewn in the side of the mountain. a misstep or a false turn might easily start the clumsy vehicle rolling down the declivity on the right. the convict was taking desperate chances, and with a cool, calculating brain, prepared to leap to the ground in case of accident and save himself, without a thought for the victims inside. "stop! turn around!" she cried in a frenzy. "we shall be killed! are you crazy?" by this time they had struck a descent in the road and were rushing along at breakneck speed into oppressive shadows that bore the first imprints of night. realizing at last that her cries were falling upon purposely deaf ears, beverly calhoun sank back into the seat, weak and terror-stricken. it was plain to her that the horses were not running away, for the man had been lashing them furiously. there was but one conclusion: he was deliberately taking her farther into the mountain fastnesses, his purpose known only to himself. a hundred terrors presented themselves to her as she lay huddled against the side of the coach, her eyes closed tightly, her tender body tossed furiously about with the sway of the vehicle. there was the fundamental fear that she would be dashed to death down the side of the mountain, but apart from this her quick brain was evolving all sorts of possible endings--none short of absolute disaster. even as she prayed that something might intervene to check the mad rush and to deliver her from the horrors of the moment, the raucous voice of the driver was heard calling to his horses and the pace became slower. the awful rocking and the jolting grew less severe, the clatter resolved itself into a broken rumble, and then the coach stopped with a mighty lurch. dragging herself from the corner, poor beverly calhoun, no longer a disdainful heroine, gazed piteously out into the shadows, expecting the murderous blade of the driver to meet her as she did so. pauloff had swung from the box of the coach and was peering first into the woodland below and then upon the rocks to the left. he wore the expression of a man trapped and seeking means of escape. suddenly he darted behind the coach, almost brushing against beverly's hat as he passed the window. she opened her lips to call to him, but even as she did so he took to his heels and raced back over the road they had traveled so precipitously. overcome by surprise and dismay, she only could watch the flight in silence. less than a hundred feet from where the coach was standing he turned to the right and was lost among the rocks. ahead, four horses, covered with sweat, were panting and heaving as if in great distress after their mad run. aunt fanny was still moaning and praying by turns in the bottom of the carriage. darkness was settling down upon the pass, and objects a hundred yards away were swallowed by the gloom. there was no sound save the blowing of the tired animals and the moaning of the old negress. beverly realized with a sinking heart that they were alone and helpless in the mountains with night upon them. she never knew where the strength and courage came from, but she forced open the stubborn coachdoor and scrambled to the ground, looking frantically in all directions for a single sign of hope. in the most despairing terror she had ever experienced, she started toward the lead horses, hoping against hope that at least one of her men had remained faithful. a man stepped quietly from the inner side of the road and advanced with the uncertain tread of one who is overcome by amazement. he was a stranger, and wore an odd, uncouth garb. the failing light told her that he was not one of her late protectors. she shrank back with a faint cry of alarm, ready to fly to the protecting arms of hopeless aunt fanny if her uncertain legs could carry her. at the same instant another ragged stranger, then two, three, four, or five, appeared as if by magic, some near her, others approaching from the shadows. "who--who in heaven's name are you?" she faltered. the sound of her own voice in a measure restored the courage that had been paralyzed. unconsciously this slim sprig of southern valor threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. if they were brigands they should not find her a cringing coward. after all, she was a calhoun. the man she had first observed stopped near the horses' heads and peered intently at her from beneath a broad and rakish hat. he was tall and appeared to be more respectably clad than his fellows, although there was not one who looked as though he possessed a complete outfit of wearing apparel. "poor wayfarers, may it please your highness," replied the tall vagabond, bowing low. to her surprise he spoke in very good english; his voice was clear, and there was a tinge of polite irony in the tones. "but all people are alike in the mountains. the king and the thief, the princess and the jade live in the common fold," and his hat swung so low that it touched the ground. "i am powerless. i only implore you to take what valuables you may find and let us proceed unharmed--" she cried, rapidly, eager to have it over. "pray, how can your highness proceed? you have no guide, no driver, no escort," said the man, mockingly. beverly looked at him appealingly, utterly without words to reply. the tears were welling to her eyes and her heart was throbbing like that of a captured bird. in after life she was able to picture in her mind's eye all the details of that tableau in the mountain pass--the hopeless coach, the steaming horses, the rakish bandit, and his picturesque men, the towering crags, and a mite of a girl facing the end of everything. "your highness is said to be brave, but even your wonderful courage can avail nothing in this instance," said the leader, pleasantly. "your escort has fled as though pursued by something stronger than shadows; your driver has deserted; your horses are half-dead; you are indeed, as you have said, powerless. and you are, besides all these, in the clutches of a band of merciless cutthroats." "oh," moaned beverly, suddenly leaning against the fore wheel, her eyes almost starting from her head. the leader laughed quietly--yes, good-naturedly. "oh, you won't--you won't kill us?" she had time to observe that there were smiles on the faces of all the men within the circle of light. "rest assured, your highness," said the leader, leaning upon his rifle-barrel with careless grace, "we intend no harm to you. every man you meet in graustark is not a brigand, i trust, for your sake. we are simple hunters, and not what we may seem. it is fortunate that you have fallen into honest hands. there is someone in the coach?" he asked, quickly alert. a prolonged groan proved to beverly that aunt fanny had screwed up sufficient courage to look out of the window. "my old servant," she half whispered. then, as several of the men started toward the door: "but she is old and wouldn't harm a fly. please, please don't hurt her." "compose yourself; she is safe," said the leader. by this time it was quite dark. at a word from him two or three men lighted lanterns. the picture was more weird than ever in the fitful glow. "may i ask, your highness, how do you intend to reach edelweiss in your present condition. you cannot manage those horses, and besides, you do not know the way." "aren't you going to rob us?" demanded beverly, hope springing to the surface with a joyful bound. the stranger laughed heartily, and shook his head. "do we not look like honest men?" he cried, with a wave of his hand toward his companions. beverly looked dubious. "we live the good, clean life of the wilderness. out-door life is necessary for our health. we could not live in the city," he went on with grim humor. for the first time, beverly noticed that he wore a huge black patch over his left eye, held in place by a cord. he appeared more formidable than ever under the light of critical inspection. chapter iv the ragged retinue "i am very much relieved," said beverly, who was not at all relieved. "but why have you stopped us in this manner?" "stopped you?" cried the man with the patch. "i implore you to unsay that, your highness. your coach was quite at a standstill before we knew of its presence. you do us a grave injustice." "it's very strange," muttered beverly, somewhat taken aback. "have you observed that it is quite dark?" asked the leader, putting away his brief show of indignation. "dear me; so it is!" cried she, now able to think more clearly. "and you are miles from an inn or house of any kind," he went on. "do you expect to stay here all night?" "i'm--i'm not afraid," bravely shivered beverly. "it is most dangerous." "i have a revolver," the weak little voice went on. "oho! what is it for?" "to use in case of emergency." "such as repelling brigands who suddenly appear upon the scene?" "yes." "may i ask why you did not use it this evening?" "because it is locked up in one of my bags--i don't know just which one--and aunt fanny has the key," confessed beverly. the chief of the "honest men" laughed again, a clear, ringing laugh that bespoke supreme confidence in his right to enjoy himself. "and who is aunt fanny?" he asked, covering his patch carefully with his slouching hat. "my servant. she's colored." "colored?" he asked in amazement. "what do you mean?" "why, she's a negress. don't you know what a colored person is?" "you mean she is a slave--a black slave?" "we don't own slaves any mo'--more." he looked more puzzled than ever--then at last, to satisfy himself, walked over and peered into the coach. aunt fanny set up a dismal howl; an instant later sir honesty was pushed aside, and miss calhoun was anxiously trying to comfort her old friend through the window. the man looked on in silent wonder for a minute, and then strode off to where a group of his men stood talking. "is yo' daid yit, miss bev'ly--is de end came?" moaned aunt fanny. beverly could not repress a smile. "i am quite alive, auntie. these men will not hurt us. they are _very nice_ gentlemen." she uttered the last observation in a loud voice and it had its effect, for the leader came to her side with long strides. "convince your servant that we mean no harm, your highness," he said eagerly, a new deference in his voice and manner. "we have only the best of motives in mind. true, the hills are full of lawless fellows and we are obliged to fight them almost daily, but you have fallen in with honest men--very nice gentlemen, i trust. less than an hour ago we put a band of robbers to flight--" "i heard the shooting," cried beverly. "it was that which put my escort to flight." "they could not have been soldiers of graustark, then, your highness," quite gallantly. "they were cossacks, or whatever you call them. but, pray, why do you call me 'your highness'?" demanded beverly. the tall leader swept the ground with his hat once more. "all the outside world knows the princess yetive--why not the humble mountain man? you will pardon me, but every man in the hills knows that you are to pass through on the way from st. petersburg to ganlook. we are not so far from the world, after all, we rough people of the hills. we know that your highness left st. petersburg by rail last sunday and took to the highway day before yesterday, because the floods had washed away the bridges north of axphain. even the hills have eyes and ears." beverly listened with increasing perplexity. it was true that she had left st. petersburg on sunday; that the unprecedented floods had stopped all railway traffic in the hills, compelling her to travel for many miles by stage, and that the whole country was confusing her in some strange way with the princess yetive. the news had evidently sped through axphain and the hills with the swiftness of fire. it would be useless to deny the story; these men would not believe her. in a flash she decided that it would be best to pose for the time being as the ruler of graustark. it remained only for her to impress upon aunt fanny the importance of this resolution. "what wise old hills they must be," she said, with evasive enthusiasm. "you cannot expect me to admit, however, that i am the princess," she went on. "it would not be just to your excellent reputation for tact if you did so, your highness," calmly spoke the man. "it is quite as easy to say that you are not the princess as to say that you are, so what matters, after all? we reserve the right, however, to do homage to the queen who rules over these wise old hills. i offer you the humble services of myself and my companions. we are yours to command." "i am very grateful to find that you are not brigands, believe me," said beverly. "pray tell me who you are, then, and you shall be sufficiently rewarded for your good intentions." "i? oh, your highness, i am baldos, the goat-hunter, a poor subject for reward at your hands. i may as well admit that i am a poacher, and have no legal right to the prosperity of your hills. the only reward i can ask is forgiveness for trespassing upon the property of others." "you shall receive pardon for all transgressions. but you must get me to some place of safety," said beverly, eagerly. "and quickly, too, you might well have added," he said, lightly. "the horses have rested, i think, so with your permission we may proceed. i know of a place where you may spend the night comfortably and be refreshed for the rough journey to-morrow." "to-morrow? how can i go on? i am alone," she cried, despairingly. "permit me to remind you that you are no longer alone. you have a ragged following, your highness, but it shall be a loyal one. will you re-enter the coach? it is not far to the place i speak of, and i myself will drive you there. come, it is getting late, and your retinue, at least, is hungry." he flung open the coach door, and his hat swept the ground once more. the light of a lantern played fitfully upon his dark, gaunt face, with its gallant smile and ominous patch. she hesitated, fear entering her soul once more. he looked up quickly and saw the indecision in her eyes, the mute appeal. "trust me, your highness," he said, gravely, and she allowed him to hand her into the coach. a moment later he was upon the driver's box, reins in hand. calling out to his companions in a language strange to beverly, he cracked the whip, and once more they were lumbering over the wretched road. beverly sank back into the seat with a deep sigh of resignation. "well, i'm in for it," she thought. "it doesn't matter whether they are thieves or angels, i reckon i'll have to take what comes. he doesn't look very much like an angel, but he looked at me just now as if he thought i were one. dear me, i wish i were back in washin'ton!" chapter v the inn of the hawk and raven two of the men walked close beside the door, one of them bearing a lantern. they conversed in low tones and in a language which beverly could not understand. after awhile she found herself analyzing the garb and manner of the men. she was saying to herself that here were her first real specimens of graustark peasantry, and they were to mark an ineffaceable spot in her memory. they were dark, strong-faced men of medium height, with fierce, black eyes and long black hair. as no two were dressed alike, it was impossible to recognize characteristic styles of attire. some were in the rude, baggy costumes of the peasant as she had imagined him; others were dressed in the tight-fitting but dilapidated uniforms of the soldiery, while several were in clothes partly european and partly oriental. there were hats and fezzes and caps, some with feathers in the bands, others without. the man nearest the coach wore the dirty gray uniform of as army officer, full of holes and rents, while another strode along in a pair of baggy yellow trousers and a dusty london dinner jacket. all in all, it was the motliest band of vagabonds she had ever seen. there were at least ten or a dozen in the party. while a few carried swords, all lugged the long rifles and crooked daggers of the tartars. "aunt fanny," beverly whispered, suddenly moving to the side of the subdued servant, "where is my revolver?" it had come to her like a flash that a subsequent emergency should not find her unprepared. aunt fanny's jaw dropped, and her eyes were like white rings in a black screen. "good lawd--wha--what fo' miss bev'ly--" "sh! don't call me miss bev'ly. now, just you pay 'tention to me and i'll tell you something queer. get my revolver right away, and don't let those men see what you are doing." while aunt fanny's trembling fingers went in search of the firearm, beverly outlined the situation briefly but explicitly. the old woman was not slow to understand. her wits sharpened by fear, she grasped beverly's instructions with astonishing avidity. "ve'y well, yo' highness," she said with fine reverence, "ah'll p'ocuah de bottle o' pepp'mint fo' yo' if yo' jes don' mine me pullin' an' haulin' 'mongst dese boxes. mebbe yo' all 'druther hab de gingeh?" with this wonderful subterfuge as a shield she dug slyly into one of the bags and pulled forth a revolver. under ordinary circumstances she would have been mortally afraid to touch it, but not so in this emergency. beverly shoved the weapon into the pocket of her gray traveling jacket. "i feel much better now, aunt fanny," she said, and aunt fanny gave a vast chuckle. "yas, ma'am, indeed,--yo' highness," she agreed, suavely. the coach rolled along for half an hour, and then stopped with a sudden jolt. an instant later the tall driver appeared at the window, his head uncovered. a man hard by held a lantern. _"qua vandos ar deltanet, yos serent,"_ said the leader, showing his white teeth in a triumphant smile. his exposed eye seemed to be glowing with pleasure and excitement. "what?" murmured beverly, hopelessly. a puzzled expression came into his face. then his smile deepened and his eye took on a knowing gleam. "ah, i see," he said, gaily, "your highness prefers not to speak the language of graustark. is it necessary for me to repeat in english?" "i really wish you would," said beverly, catching her breath. "just to see how it sounds, you know." "your every wish shall be gratified. i beg to inform you that we have reached the inn of the hawk and raven. this is where we dwelt last night. tomorrow we, too, abandon the place, so our fortunes may run together for some hours, at least. there is but little to offer you in the way of nourishment, and there are none of the comforts of a palace. yet princesses can no more be choosers than beggars when the fare's in one pot. come, your highness, let me conduct you to the guest chamber of the inn of the hawk and raven." beverly took his hand and stepped to the ground, looking about in wonder and perplexity. "i see no inn," she murmured apprehensively. "look aloft, your highness. that great black canopy is the roof; we are standing upon the floor, and the dark shadows just beyond the circle of light are the walls of the hawk and raven. this is the largest tavern in all graustark. its dimensions are as wide as the world itself." "you mean that there is no inn at all?" the girl cried in dismay. "alas, i must confess it. and yet there is shelter here. come with me. let your servant follow." he took her by the hand, and led her away from the coach, a ragged lantern-bearer preceding. beverly's little right hand was rigidly clutching the revolver in her pocket. it was a capacious pocket, and the muzzle of the weapon bored defiantly into a timid powder-rag that lay on the bottom. the little leather purse from which it escaped had its silver lips opened as if in a broad grin of derision, reveling in the plight of the chamois. the guide's hand was at once firm and gentle, his stride bold, yet easy. his rakish hat, with its aggressive red feather, towered a full head above beverly's parisian violets. "have you no home at all--no house in which to sleep?" beverly managed to ask. "i live in a castle of air," said he, waving his hand gracefully. "i sleep in the house of my fathers." "you poor fellow," cried beverly, pityingly. he laughed and absently patted the hilt of his sword. she heard the men behind them turning the coach into the glen through which they walked carefully. her feet fell upon a soft, grassy sward and the clatter of stones was now no longer heard. they were among the shadowy trees, gaunt trunks of enormous size looming up in the light of the lanterns. unconsciously her thoughts went over to the forest of arden and the woodland home of rosalind, as she had imagined it to be. soon there came to her ears the swish of waters, as of some turbulent river hurrying by. instinctively she drew back and her eyes were set with alarm upon the black wall of night ahead. yetive had spoken more than once of this wilderness. many an unlucky traveler had been lost forever in its fastnesses. "it is the river, your highness. there is no danger. i will not lead you into it," he said, a trifle roughly. "we are low in the valley and there are marshes yonder when the river is in its natural bed. the floods have covered the low grounds, and there is a torrent coming down from the hills. here we are, your highness. this is the inn of the hawk and raven." he bowed and pointed with his hat to the smouldering fire a short distance ahead. they had turned a bend in the overhanging cliff, and were very close to the retreat before she saw the glow. the fire was in the open air and directly in front of a deep cleft in the rocky background. judging by the sound, the river could not be more than two hundred feet away. men came up with lanterns and others piled brush upon the fire. in a very short time the glen was weirdly illuminated by the dancing flames. from her seat on a huge log, beverly was thus enabled to survey a portion of her surroundings. the overhanging ledge of rock formed a wide, deep canopy, underneath which was perfect shelter. the floor seemed to be rich, grassless loam, and here and there were pallets of long grass, evidently the couches of these homeless men. all about were huge trees, and in the direction of the river the grass grew higher and then gave place to reeds. the foliage above was so dense that the moon and stars were invisible. there was a deathly stillness in the air. the very loneliness was so appalling that beverly's poor little heart was in a quiver of dread. aunt fanny, who sat near by, had not spoken since leaving the coach, but her eyes were expressively active. the tall leader stood near the fire, conversing with half a dozen of his followers. miss calhoun's eyes finally rested upon this central figure in the strange picture. he was attired in a dark-gray uniform that reminded her oddly of the dragoon choruses in the comic operas at home. the garments, while torn and soiled, were well-fitting. his shoulders were broad and square, his hips narrow, his legs long and straight. there was an air of impudent grace about him that went well with his life and profession. surely, here was a careless freelance upon whom life weighed lightly, while death "stood afar off" and despaired. the light of the fire brought his gleaming face into bold relief, for his hat was off. black and thick was his hair, rumpled and apparently uncared for. the face was lean, smooth and strong, with a devil-may-care curve at the corners of the mouth. beverly found herself lamenting the fact that such an interesting face should be marred by an ugly black patch, covering she knew not what manner of defect. as for the rest of them, they were a grim company. some were young and beardless, others were old and grizzly, but all were active, alert and strong. the leader appeared to be the only one in the party who could speak and understand the english language. as beverly sat and watched his virile, mocking face, and studied his graceful movements, she found herself wondering how an ignorant, homeless wanderer in the hills could be so poetic and so cultured as this fellow seemed to be. three or four men, who were unmistakably of a lower order than their companions, set about preparing a supper. others unhitched the tired horses and led them off toward the river. two dashing young fellows carried the seat-cushions under the rocky canopy and constructed an elaborate couch for the "princess." the chief, with his own hands, soon began the construction of a small chamber in this particular corner of the cave, near the opening. the walls of the chamber were formed of carriage robes and blankets, cloaks and oak branches. "the guest chamber, your highness," he said, approaching her with a smile at the conclusion of his work. "it has been most interesting to watch you," she said, rising. "and it has been a delight to interest you," he responded. "you will find seclusion there, and you need see none of us until it pleases you." she looked him fairly in the eye for a moment, and then impulsively extended her hand. he clasped it warmly, but not without some show of surprise. "i am trusting you implicitly," she said. "the knave is glorified," was his simple rejoinder. he conducted her to the improvised bed-chamber, aunt fanny following with loyal but uncertain tread. "i regret, your highness, that the conveniences are so few. we have no landlady except mother earth, no waiters, no porters, no maids, in the inn of the hawk and raven. this being a men's hotel, the baths are on the river-front. i am having water brought to your apartments, however, but it is with deepest shame and sorrow that i confess we have no towels." she laughed so heartily that his face brightened perceptibly, whilst the faces of his men turned in their direction as though by concert. "it is a typical mountain resort, then," she said, "i think i can manage very well if you will fetch my bags to my room, sir." "by the way, will you have dinner served in your room?" very good-humoredly. "if you don't mind, i'd like to eat in the public dining-room," said she. a few minutes later beverly was sitting upon one of her small trunks and aunt fanny was laboriously brushing her dark hair. "it's very jolly being a princess," murmured miss calhoun. she had bathed her face in one of the leather buckets from the coach, and the dust of the road had been brushed away by the vigorous lady-in-waiting. "yas, ma'am, miss--yo' highness, hit's monstrous fine fo' yo', but whar is ah goin' to sleep? out yondah, wif all dose scalawags?" said aunt fanny, rebelliously. "you shall have a bed in here, aunt fanny," said beverly. "dey's de queeres' lot o' tramps ah eveh did see, an' ah wouldn' trust 'em 's fer as ah could heave a brick house." "but the leader is such a very courteous gentleman," remonstrated beverly. "yas, ma'am; he mussa came f'm gawgia or kaintuck," was aunt fanny's sincere compliment. the pseudo-princess dined with the vagabonds that night. she sat on the log beside the tall leader, and ate heartily of the broth and broiled goatmeat, the grapes and the nuts, and drank of the spring water which took the place of wine and coffee and cordial. it was a strange supper amid strange environments, but she enjoyed it as she had never before enjoyed a meal. the air was full of romance and danger, and her imagination was enthralled. everything was so new and unreal that she scarcely could believe herself awake. the world seemed to have gone back to the days of robin hood and his merry men. "you fare well at the inn of the hawk and raven," she said to him, her voice tremulous with excitement. he looked mournfully at her for a moment and then smiled naively. "it is the first wholesome meal we have had in two days," he replied. "you don't mean it!" "yes. we were lucky with the guns to-day. fate was kind to us--and to you, for we are better prepared to entertain royalty to-day than at any time since i have been in the hills of graustark." "then you have not always lived in graustark?" "alas, no, your highness. i have lived elsewhere." "but you were born in the principality?" "i am a subject of its princess in heart from this day forth, but not by birth or condition. i am a native of the vast domain known to a few of us as circumstance," and he smiled rather recklessly. "you are a poet, a delicious poet," cried beverly, forgetting herself in her enthusiasm. "perhaps that is why i am hungry and unshorn. it had not occurred to me in that light. when you are ready to retire, your highness," he said, abruptly rising, "we shall be pleased to consider the inn of the hawk and raven closed for the night. having feasted well, we should sleep well. we have a hard day before us. with your consent, i shall place my couch of grass near your door. i am the porter. you have but to call if anything is desired." she was tired, but she would have sat up all night rather than miss any of the strange romance that had been thrust upon her. but sir red-feather's suggestion savored of a command and she reluctantly made her way to the flapping blanket that marked the entrance to the bed-chamber. he drew the curtain aside, swung his hat low and muttered a soft goodnight. "may your highness's dreams be pleasant ones!" he said. "thank you," said she, and the curtain dropped impertinently. "that was very cool of him, i must say," she added, as she looked at the wavering door. when she went to sleep, she never knew; she was certain that her eyes were rebellious for a long time and that she wondered how her gray dress would look after she had slept in it all night. she heard low singing as if in the distance, but after a while the stillness became so intense that its pressure almost suffocated her. the rush of the river grew louder and louder and there was a swishing sound that died in her ears almost as she wondered what it meant. her last waking thoughts were of the "black-patch" poet. was he lying near the door? she was awakened in the middle of the night by the violent flapping of her chamber door. startled, she sat bolt upright and strained her eyes to pierce the mysterious darkness. aunt fanny, on her bed of grass, stirred convulsively, but did not awake. the blackness of the strange chamber was broken ever and anon by faint flashes of light from without, and she lived through long minutes of terror before it dawned upon her that a thunderstorm was brewing. the wind was rising, and the night seemed agog with excitement. beverly crept from her couch and felt her way to the fluttering doorway. drawing aside the blanket she peered forth into the night, her heart jumping with terror. her highness was very much afraid of thunder and lightning. the fire in the open had died down until naught remained but a few glowing embers. these were blown into brilliancy by the wind, casting a steady red light over the scene. there was but one human figure in sight. beside the fire stood the tall wanderer. he was hatless and coatless, and his arms were folded across his chest. seemingly oblivious to the approach of the storm, he stood staring into the heap of ashes at his feet. his face was toward her, every feature plainly distinguishable in the faint glow from the fire. to her amazement the black patch was missing from the eye; and, what surprised her almost to the point of exclaiming aloud, there appeared to be absolutely no reason for its presence there at any time. there was no mark or blemish upon or about the eye; it was as clear and penetrating as its fellow, darkly gleaming in the red glow from below. moreover, beverly saw that he was strikingly handsome--a strong, manly face. the highly imaginative southern girl's mind reverted to the first portraits of napoleon she had seen. suddenly he started, threw up his head and looking up to the sky uttered some strange words. then he strode abruptly toward her doorway. she fell back breathless. he stopped just outside, and she knew that he was listening for sounds from within. after many minutes she stealthily looked forth again. he was standing near the fire, his back toward her, looking off into the night. the wind was growing stronger; the breezes fanned the night into a rush of shivery coolness. constant flickerings of lightning illuminated the forest, transforming the tree-tops into great black waves. tall reeds along the river bank began to bend their tops, to swing themselves gently to and from the wind. in the lowlands down from the cave "will o' the wisps" played tag with "jack o' the lanterns," merrily scampering about in the blackness, reminding her of the revellers in a famous brocken scene. low moans grew out of the havoc, and voices seemed to speak in unintelligible whispers to the agitated twigs and leaves. the secrets of the wind were being spread upon the records of the night; tales of many climes passed through the ears of nature. from gentle undulations the marshland reeds swept into lower dips, danced wilder minuets, lashed each other with infatuated glee, mocking the whistle of the wind with an angry swish of their tall bodies. around the cornices of the inn of the hawk and raven scurried the singing breezes, reluctant to leave a playground so pleasing to the fancy. soon the night became a cauldron, a surging, hissing, roaring receptacle in which were mixing the ingredients of disaster. night-birds flapped through the moaning tree-tops, in search of shelter; reeds were flattened to the earth, bowing to the sovereignty of the wind; clouds roared with the rumble of a million chariots, and then the sky and the earth met in one of those savage conflicts that make all other warfare seem as play. as beverly sank back from the crash, she saw him throw his arms aloft as though inviting the elements to mass themselves and their energy upon his head. she shrieked involuntarily and he heard the cry above the carnage. instantly his face was turned in her direction. "help! help!" she cried. he bounded toward the swishing robes and blankets, but his impulse had found a rival in the blast. like a flash the walls of the guest chamber were whisked away, scuttling off into the night or back into the depths of the cavern. with the deluge came the man. from among the stifling robes he snatched her up and bore her away, she knew not whither. chapter vi the home of the lion "may all storms be as pleasant as this one!" she heard someone say, with a merry laugh. the next instant she was placed soundly upon her feet. a blinding flash of lightning revealed baldos, the goat-hunter, at her side, while a dozen shadowy figures were scrambling to their feet in all corners of the hawk and raven. someone was clutching her by the dress at the knees. she did not have to look down to know that it was aunt fanny. "goodness!" gasped the princess, and then it was pitch dark again. the man at her side called out a command in his own language, and then turned his face close to hers. "do not be alarmed. we are quite safe now. the royal bed-chamber has come to grief, however, i am sorry to say. what a fool i was not to have foreseen all this! the storm has been brewing since midnight," he was saying to her. "isn't it awful?" cried beverly, between a moan a shriek. "they are trifles after one gets used to them," he said. "i have come to be quite at home in the tempest. there are other things much more annoying, i assure your highness. we shall have lights in a moment." even as he spoke, two or three lanterns began to flicker feebly. "be quiet, aunt fanny; you are not killed at all," commanded beverly, quite firmly. "de house is suah to blow down. miss--yo' highness," groaned the trusty maidservant. beverly laughed bravely but nervously with the tall goat-hunter. he at once set about making his guest comfortable and secure from the effects of the tempest, which was now at its height. her couch of cushions was dragged far back into the cavern and the rescued blankets, though drenched, again became a screen. "do you imagine that i'm going in there while this storm rages?" beverly demanded, as the work progressed. "are you not afraid of lightning? most young women are." "that's the trouble. i am afraid of it. i'd much rather stay out here where there is company. you don't mind, do you?" "paradise cannot be spurned by one who now feels its warmth for the first time," said he, gallantly. "your fear is my delight. pray sit upon our throne. it was once a humble carriage pail of leather, but now it is exalted. besides, it is much more comfortable than some of the gilded chairs we hear about." "you are given to irony, i fear," she said, observing a peculiar smile on his lips. "i crave pardon, your highness," he said, humbly "the heart of the goat-hunter is more gentle than his wit. i shall not again forget that you are a princess and i the veriest beggar." "i didn't mean to hurt you!" she cried, in contrition, for she was a very poor example of what a princess is supposed to be. "there is no wound, your highness," he quickly said. with a mocking grace that almost angered her, he dropped to his knee and motioned for her to be seated. she sat down suddenly, clapping her hands to her ears and shutting her eyes tightly. the crash of thunder that came at that instant was the most fearful of all, and it was a full minute before she dared to lift her lids again. he was standing before her, and there was genuine compassion in his face. "it's terrible," he said. "never before have i seen such a storm. have courage, your highness; it can last but little longer." "goodness!" said the real american girl, for want of something more expressive. "your servant has crept into your couch, i fear. shall i sit here at your feet? perhaps you may feel a small sense of security if i--" "indeed, i want you to sit there," she cried. he forthwith threw himself upon the floor of the cave, a graceful, respectful guardian. minutes went by without a word from either. the noise of the storm made it impossible to speak and be heard. scattered about the cavern were his outstretched followers, doubtless asleep once more in all this turmoil. with the first lull in the war of the elements, beverly gave utterance to the thought that long had been struggling for release. "why do you wear that horrid black patch over your eye?" she asked, a trifle timidly. he muttered a sharp exclamation and clapped his hand to his eye. for the first time since the beginning of their strange acquaintanceship beverly observed downright confusion in this debonair knight of the wilds. "it has--has slipped off--" he stammered, with a guilty grin. his merry insolence was gone, his composure with it. beverly laughed with keen enjoyment over the discomfiture of the shame-faced vagabond. "you can't fool me," she exclaimed, shaking her finger at him in the most unconventional way. "it was intended to be a disguise. there is absolutely nothing the matter with your eye." he was speechless for a moment, recovering himself. wisdom is conceived in silence, and he knew this. vagabond or gentleman, he was a clever actor. "the eye is weak, your highness, and i cover it in the daytime to protect it from the sunlight," he said, coolly. "that's all very nice, but it looks to be quite as good as the other. and what is more, sir, you are not putting the patch over the same eye that wore it when i first saw you. it was the left eye at sunset. does the trouble transfer after dark?" he broke into an honest laugh and hastily moved the black patch across his nose to the left eye. "i was turned around in the darkness, that's all," he said, serenely. "it belongs over the left eye, and i am deeply grateful to you for discovering the error." "i don't see any especial reason why you should wear it after dark, do you? there is no sunlight, i'm sure." "i am dazzled, nevertheless," he retorted. "fiddlesticks!" she said. "this is a cave, not a drawing-room." "in other words, i am a lout and not a courtier," he smiled. "well, a lout may look at a princess. we have no court etiquette in the hills, i am sorry to say." "that was very unkind, even though you said it most becomingly," she protested. "you have called this pail a throne. let us also imagine that you are a courtier." "you punish me most gently, your highness. i shall not forget my manners again, believe me." he seemed thoroughly subdued. "then i shall expect you to remove that horrid black thing. it is positively villainous. you look much better without it." "is it an edict or a compliment?" he asked with such deep gravity that she flushed. "it is neither," she answered. "you don't have to take it off unless you want to--" "in either event, it is off. you were right. it serves as a partial disguise. i have many enemies and the black patch is a very good friend." "how perfectly lovely," cried beverly. "tell me all about it. i adore stories about feuds and all that." "your husband is an american. he should be able to keep you well entertained with blood-and-thunder stories," said he. "my hus--what do you--oh, yes!" gasped beverly. "to be sure. i didn't hear you, i guess. that was rather a severe clap of thunder, wasn't it?" "is that also a command?" "what do you mean?" "there was no thunderclap, you know." "oh, wasn't there?" helplessly. "the storm is quite past. there is still a dash of rain in the air and the wind may be dying hard, but aside from that i think the noise is quite subdued." "i believe you are right. how sudden it all was." "there are several hours between this and dawn, your highness, and you should try to get a little more sleep. your cushions are dry and--" "very well, since you are so eager to get rid of--" began beverly, and then stopped, for it did not sound particularly regal. "i should have said, you are very thoughtful. you will call me if i sleep late?" "we shall start early, with your permission. it is forty miles to ganlook, and we must be half way there by nightfall." "must we spend another night like this?" cried beverly, dolefully. "alas, i fear you must endure us another night. i am afraid, however, we shall not find quarters as comfortable as these of the hawk and raven." "i didn't mean to be ungrateful and--er--snippish," she said, wondering if he knew the meaning of the word. "no?" he said politely, and she knew he did not--whereupon she felt distinctly humbled. "you know you speak such excellent english," she said irrelevantly. he bowed low. as he straightened his figure, to his amazement, he beheld an agonizing look of horror on her face; her eyes riveted on the mouth of the cavern. then, there came an angrier sound, unlike any that had gone before in that night of turmoil. "look there! quick!" the cry of terror from the girl's palsied lips, as she pointed to something behind him, awoke the mountain man to instant action. instinctively, he snatched his long dagger from its sheath and turned quickly. not twenty feet from them a huge cat-like beast stood half crouched on the edge of the darkness, his long tail switching angrily. the feeble light from the depth of the cave threw the long, water-soaked visitor into bold relief against the black wall beyond. apparently, he was as much surprised as the two who glared at him, as though frozen to the spot. a snarling whine, a fierce growl, indicated his fury at finding his shelter--his lair occupied. "my god! a mountain lion! ravone! franz! to me!" he cried hoarsely, and sprang before her shouting loudly to the sleepers. a score of men, half awake, grasped their weapons and struggled to their feet in answer to his call. the lion's gaunt body shot through the air. in two bounds, he was upon the goat-hunter. baldos stood squarely and firmly to meet the rush of the maddened beast, his long dagger poised for the death-dealing blow. "run!" he shouted to her. beverly calhoun had fighting blood in her veins. utterly unconscious of her action, at the time, she quickly drew the little silver-handled revolver from the pocket of her gown. as man, beast and knife came together, in her excitement she fired recklessly at the combatants without any thought of the imminent danger of killing her protector. there was a wild scream of pain from the wounded beast, more pistol shots, fierce yells from the excited hunters, the rush of feet and then the terrified and almost frantic girl staggered and fell against the rocky wall. her wide gray eyes were fastened upon the writhing lion and the smoking pistol was tightly clutched in her hand. it had all occurred in such an incredible short space of time that she could not yet realize what had happened. her heart and brain seemed paralyzed, her limbs stiff and immovable. like the dizzy whirl of a kaleidoscope, the picture before her resolved itself into shape. the beast was gasping his last upon the rocky floor, the hilt of the goat hunter's dagger protruding from his side. baldos, supported by two of his men, stood above the savage victim, his legs covered with blood. the cave was full of smoke and the smell of powder. out of the haze she began to see the light of understanding. baldos alone was injured. he had stood between her and the rush of the lion, and he had saved her, at a cost she knew not how great. "oh, the blood!" she cried hoarsely. "is it--is it--are you badly hurt?" she was at his side, the pistol falling from her nervous fingers. "don't come near me; i'm all right," he cried quickly. "take care--your dress--" "oh, i'm so glad to hear you speak! never mind the dress! you are torn to pieces! you must be frightfully hurt. oh, isn't it terrible--horrible! aunt fanny! come here this minute!" forgetting the beast and throwing off the paralysis of fear, she pushed one of the men away and grasped the arm of the injured man. he winced perceptibly and she felt something warm and sticky on her hands. she knew it was blood, but it was not in her to shrink at a moment like this. "your arm, too!" she gasped. he smiled, although his face was white with pain. "how brave you were! you might have been--i'll never forget it--never! don't stand there, aunt fanny! quick! get those cushions for him. he's hurt." "good lawd!" was all the old woman could say, but she obeyed her mistress. "it was easier than it looked, your highness," murmured baldos. "luck was with me. the knife went to his heart. i am merely scratched. his leap was short, but he caught me above the knees with his claws. alas, your highness, these trousers of mine were bad enough before, but now they are in shreds. what patching i shall have to do! and you may well imagine we are short of thread and needles and thimbles--" "don't jest, for heaven's sake! don't talk like that. here! lie down upon these cushions and--" "never! desecrate the couch of graustark's ruler? i, the poor goat-hunter? i'll use the lion for a pillow and the rock for an operating table. in ten minutes my men can have these scratches dressed and bound--in fact, there is a surgical student among them, poor fellow. i think i am his first patient. ravone, attend me." he threw himself upon the ground and calmly placed his head upon the body of the animal. "i insist upon your taking these cushions," cried beverly. "and i decline irrevocably." she stared at him in positive anger. "trust ravone to dress these trifling wounds, your highness. he may not be as gentle, but he is as firm as any princess in all the world." "but your arm?" she cried. "didn't you say it was your legs? your arm is covered with blood, too. oh, dear me, i'm afraid you are frightfully wounded." "a stray bullet from one of my men struck me there, i think. you know there was but little time for aiming--?" "wait! let me think a minute! good heavens!" she exclaimed with a start. her eyes were suddenly filled with tears and there was a break in her voice. "i shot you! don't deny it--don't! it is the right arm, and your men could not have hit it from where they stood. oh, oh, oh!" baldos smiled as he bared his arm. "your aim was good," he admitted. "had not my knife already been in the lion's heart, your bullet would have gone there. it is my misfortune that my arm was in the way. besides, your highness, it has only cut through the skin--and a little below, perhaps. it will be well in a day or two, i am sure you will find your bullet in the carcass of our lamented friend, the probable owner of this place." ravone, a hungry-looking youth, took charge of the wounded leader, while her highness retreated to the farthest corner of the cavern. there she sat and trembled while the wounds were being dressed. aunt fanny bustled back and forth, first unceremoniously pushing her way through the circle of men to take observations, and then reporting to the impatient girl. the storm had passed and the night was still, except for the rush of the river; raindrops fell now and then from the trees, glistening like diamonds as they touched the light from the cavern's mouth. it was all very dreary, uncanny and oppressive to poor beverly. now and then she caught herself sobbing, more out of shame and humiliation than in sadness, for had she not shot the man who stepped between her and death? what must he think of her? "he says yo' all 'd betteh go to baid, miss bev--yo' highness," said aunt fanny after one of her trips. "oh, he does, does he?" sniffed beverly. "i'll go to bed when i please. tell him so. no, no--don't do it, aunt fanny! tell him i'll go to bed when i'm sure he is quite comfortable, not before." "but he's jes' a goat puncheh er a--" "he's a man, if there ever was one. don't let me hear you call him a goat puncher again. how are his legs?" aunt fanny was almost stunned by this amazing question from her ever-decorous mistress. "why don't you answer? will they have to be cut off? didn't you see them?" "fo' de lawd's sake, missy, co'se ah did, but yo' all kindeh susprise me. dey's p'etty bad skun up, missy; de hide's peeled up consid'ble. but hit ain' dang'ous,--no, ma'am. jes' skun, 'at's all." "and his arm--where i shot him?" "puffec'ly triflin', ma'am,--yo' highness. cobwebs 'd stop de bleedin' an' ah tole 'em so, but 'at felleh couldn' un'stan' me. misteh what's-his-names he says something to de docteh, an' den dey goes afteh de cobwebs, suah 'nough. 'tain' bleedin' no mo', missy. he's mostes' neah doin' we'y fine. co'se, he cain' walk fo' sev'l days wiv dem laigs o' his'n, but--" "then, in heaven's name, how are we to get to edelweiss?" "he c'n ride, cain't he? wha's to hindeh him?" "quite right. he shall ride inside the coach. go and see if i can do anything for him." aunt fanny returned in a few minutes. "he says yo'll do him a great favoh if yo' jes' go to baid. he sends his 'spects an' hopes yo' slumbeh won' be distubbed ag'in." "he's a perfect brute!" exclaimed beverly, but she went over and crawled under the blankets and among the cushions the wounded man had scorned. chapter vii some facts and fancies there was a soft, warm, yellow glow to the world when beverly calhoun next looked upon it. the sun from his throne in the mountain tops was smiling down upon the valley the night had ravaged while he was on the other side of the earth. the leaves of the trees were a softer green, the white of the rocks and the yellow of the road were of a gentler tint; the brown and green reeds were proudly erect once more. the stirring of the mountain men had awakened aunt fanny, and she in turn called her mistress from the surprisingly peaceful slumber into which perfect health had sent her not so many hours before. at the entrance to the improvised bedchamber stood buckets of water from the spring. "we have very thoughtful chambermaids," remarked beverly while aunt fanny was putting her hair into presentable shape. "and an energetic cook," she added as the odor of broiled meat came to her nostrils. "ah cain' see nothin' o' dat beastes, miss beverly--an'--ah--ah got mah suspicions," said aunt fanny, with sepulchral despair in her voice. "they've thrown the awful thing into the river," concluded beverly. "dey's cookin' hit!" said aunt fanny solemnly. "good heaven, no!" cried beverly. "go and see, this minute. i wouldn't eat that catlike thing for the whole world." aunt fanny came back a few minutes later with the assurance that they were roasting goat meat. the skin of the midnight visitor was stretched upon the ground not far away. "and how is he?" asked beverly, jamming a hat pin through a helpless bunch of violets. "he's ve'y 'spectably skun, yo' highness." "i don't mean the animal, stupid." "yo' mean 'at misteh goat man? he's settin' up an' chattin' as if nothin' happened. he says to me 'at we staht on ouah way jes' as soon as yo' all eats yo' b'eakfus'. de bosses is hitched up an'--" "has everybody else eaten? am i the only one that hasn't?" cried beverly. "'ceptin' me, yo' highness. ah'm as hungry as a poah man's dawg, an'--" "and he is being kept from the hospital because i am a lazy, good-for-nothing little--come on, aunt fanny; we haven't a minute to spare. if he looks very ill, we do without breakfast." but baldos was the most cheerful man in the party. he was sitting with his back against a tree, his right arm in a sling of woven reeds, his black patch set upon the proper eye. "you will pardon me for not rising," he said cheerily, "but, your highness, i am much too awkward this morning to act as befitting a courtier in the presence of his sovereign. you have slept well?" "too well, i fear. so well, in fact, that you have suffered for it. can't we start at once?" she was debating within herself whether it would be quite good form to shake hands with the reclining hero. in the glare of the broad daylight he and his followers looked more ragged and famished than before, but they also appeared more picturesquely romantic. "when you have eaten of our humble fare, your highness,--the last meal at the hawk and raven." "but i'm not a bit hungry." "it is very considerate of you, but equally unreasonable. you must eat before we start." "i can't bear the thought of your suffering when we should be hurrying to a hospital and competent surgeons." he laughed gaily. "oh, you needn't laugh. i know it hurts. you say we cannot reach ganlook before to-morrow? well, we can't stop here a minute longer than we--oh, thank you!" a ragged servitor had placed a rude bowl of meat and some fruit before her. "sit down here, your highness, and prepare yourself for a long fast. we may go until nightfall without food. the game is scarce and we dare not venture far into the hills." beverly sat at his feet and daintily began the operation of picking a bone with her pretty fingers teeth. "i am sorry we have no knives and forks" he apologized. "i don't mind"' said she. "i wish you would remove that black patch." "alas, i must resume the hated disguise. a chance enemy might recognize me." "your--your clothes have been mended," she remarked with a furtive glance at his long legs. the trousers had been rudely sewed up and no bandages were visible. "are you--your legs terribly hurt???" "they are badly scratched, but not seriously. the bandages are skilfully placed," he added, seeing her look of doubt. "ravone is a genius." "well, i'll hurry," she said, blushing deeply. goat-hunter though he was and she a princess, his eyes gleamed with the joy of her beauty and his heart thumped with a most unruly admiration. "you were very, very brave last night," she said at last--and her rescuer smiled contentedly. she was not long in finishing the rude but wholesome meal, and then announced her readiness to be on the way. with the authority of a genuine princess she commanded him to ride inside the coach, gave incomprehensible directions to the driver and to the escort, and would listen to none of his protestations. when the clumsy vehicle was again in the highway and bumping over the ridges of flint, the goat-hunter was beside his princess on the rear seat, his feet upon the opposite cushions near aunt fanny, a well-arranged bridge of boxes and bags providing support for his long legs. "we want to go to a hospital," beverly had said to the driver, very much as she might have spoken had she been in washington. she was standing bravely beside the forewheel, her face flushed and eager. baldos, from his serene position on the cushions, watched her with kindling eyes. the grizzled driver grinned and shook his head despairingly. "oh, pshaw! you don't understand, do you? hospital--h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l," she spelt it out for him, and still he shook his head. others in the motley retinue were smiling broadly. "speak to him in your own language, your highness, and he will be sure to understand," ventured the patient. "i am speaking in my--i mean, i prefer to speak in english. please tell him to go to a hospital," she said confusedly. baldos gave a few jovial instructions, and then the raggedest courtier of them all handed beverly into the carriage with a grace that amazed her. "you are the most remarkable goat-hunters i have ever seen," she remarked in sincere wonder. "and you speak the most perfect english i've ever heard," he replied. "oh, do you really think so? miss grimes used to say i was hopeless. you know i had a--a tutor," she hastily explained. "don't you think it strange we've met no axphain soldiers?" she went on, changing the subject abruptly. "we are not yet out of the woods," he said. "that was a purely american aphorism," she cried, looking at him intently. "where did you learn all your english?" "i had a tutor," he answered easily. "you are a very odd person," she sighed. "i don't believe that you are a goat-hunter at all." "if i were not a goat-hunter i should have starved long ago," he said. "why do you doubt me?" "simply because you treat me one moment as if i were a princess, and the next as if i were a child. humble goat-hunters do not forget their station in life." "i have much to learn of the deference due to queens," he said. "that's just like 'the mikado' or 'pinafore,'" she exclaimed. "i believe you are a comic-opera brigand or a pirate chieftain, after all." "i am a lowly outcast," he smiled. "well, i've decided to take you into edelweiss and--" "pardon me, your highness," he said firmly, "that cannot be. i shall not go to edelweiss." "but i command you--" "it's very kind of you, but i cannot enter a hospital--not even at ganlook. i may as well confess that i am a hunted man and that the instructions are to take me dead or alive." "impossible!" she gasped, involuntarily shrinking from him. "i have wronged no man, yet i am being hunted down as though i were a beast," he said, his face turning haggard for the moment. "the hills of graustark, the plateaus of axphain and the valleys of dawsbergen are alive with men who are bent on ending my unhappy but inconvenient existence. it would be suicide for me to enter any one of your towns or cities. even you could not protect me, i fear." "this sounds like a dream. oh, dear me, you don't look like a hardened criminal," she cried. "i am the humble leader of a faithful band who will die with me when the time comes. we are not criminals, your highness. in return for what service i may have performed for you, i implore you to question me no further. let me be your slave up to the walls of ganlook, and then you may forget baldos, the goat-hunter." "i never can forget you," she cried, touching his injured arm gently. "will you forget the one who gave you this wound?" "it is a very gentle wound, and i love it so that i pray it may never heal." she looked away suddenly. "tell me one thing," she said, a mist coming over her eyes. "you say they are hunting you to the death. then--then your fault must be a grievous one. have you--have you killed a man?" she added hastily. he was silent for a long time. "i fear i have killed more than one man," he said in low tones. again she shrank into the corner of the coach. "history says that your father was a brave soldier and fought in many battles," he went on. "yes," she said, thinking of major george calhoun. "he killed men then, perhaps, as i have killed them," he said. "oh, my father never killed a man!" cried beverly, in devout horror. "yet graustark reveres his mighty prowess on the field of battle," said he, half laconically. "oh," she murmured, remembering that she was now the daughter of yetive's father. "i see. you are not a--a--a mere murderer, then?" "no. i have been a soldier--that is all." "thank heaven!" she murmured, and was no longer afraid of him. "would--would a pardon be of any especial benefit to you?" she asked, wondering how far her influence might go with the princess yetive. "it is beyond your power to help me," he said gravely. she was silent, but it was the silence of deep reflection. "your highness left the castle ten days ago," he said, dismissing himself as a subject for conversation. "have you kept in close communication with edelweiss during that time?" "i know nothing of what is going on there," she said, quite truthfully. she only knew that she had sent a message to the princess yetive, apprising her of her arrival in st. petersburg and of her intention to leave soon for the graustark capital. "then you do not know that mr. lorry is still on the dawsbergen frontier in conference with representatives from serros. he may not return for a week, so colonel quinnox brings back word." "it's news to me," murmured beverly. "you do not seem to be alarmed," he ventured. "yet i fancy it is not a dangerous mission, although prince gabriel is ready to battle at a moment's notice." "i have the utmost confidence in mr. lorry," said beverly, with proper pride. "baron dangloss, your minister of police, is in these mountains watching the operations of axphain scouts and spies." "is he? you are very well posted, it seems." "moreover, the axphainians are planning to attack ganlook upon the first signal from their ruler. i do not wish to alarm your highness, but we may as well expect trouble before we come to the ganlook gates you are known to be in the pass, and i am certain an effort will be made to take possession of your person." "they wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed. "uncle sam would annihilate them in a week." "uncle sam? is he related to your aunt fanny? i'm afraid he could do but little against volga's fighting men," he said, with a smile. "they'd soon find out who uncle sam is if they touch me," she threatened grandly. he seemed puzzled, but was too polite to press her for explanations. "but, he is a long way off and couldn't do much if we were suddenly attacked from ambush, could he? what would they do to me if i were taken, as you suggest?" she was more concerned than she appeared to be. "with you in their hands, graustark would be utterly helpless. volga could demand anything she liked, and your ministry would be forced to submit." "i really think it would be a capital joke on the princess volga," mused beverly reflectively. he did not know what she meant, but regarded her soft smile as the clear title to the serenity of a princess. she sank back and gave herself over to the complications that were likely to grow out of her involuntary deception. the one thing which worried her more than all others was the fear that yetive might not be in edelweiss. according to all reports, she had lately been in st. petersburg and the mere fact that she was supposed to be traveling by coach was sufficient proof that she was not at her capital. then there was, of course, the possibility of trouble on the road with the axphain scouts, but beverly enjoyed the optimism of youth and civilization. baldos, the goat-hunter, was dreamily thinking of the beautiful young woman at his side and of the queer freak fortune had played in bringing them together. as he studied her face he could not but lament that marriage, at least, established a barrier between her and the advances his bold heart might otherwise be willing to risk. his black hair straggled down over his forehead and his dark eyes--the patch had been surreptitiously lifted--were unusually pensive. "it is strange that you live in graustark and have not seen its princess--before," she said, laying groundwork for enquiry concerning the acts and whereabouts of the real princess. "may it please your highness, i have not lived long in graustark. besides, it is said that half the people of ganlook have never looked upon your face." "i'm not surprised at that. the proportion is much smaller than i imagined. i have not visited ganlook, strange as it may seem to you." "one of my company fell in with some of your guards from the ganlook garrison day before yesterday. he learned that you were to reach that city within forty-eight hours. a large detachment of men has been sent to meet you at labbot." "oh, indeed," said beverly, very much interested. "they must have been misinformed as to your route--or else your russian escort decided to take you through by the lower and more hazardous way. it was our luck that you came by the wrong road. otherwise we should not have met each other--and the lion," he said, smiling reflectively. "where is labbot?" asked she, intent upon the one subject uppermost in her mind. "in the mountains many leagues north of this pass. had you taken that route instead of this, you would by this time have left labbot for the town of erros, a half-day's journey from ganlook. instead of vagabonds, your escort would have been made up of loyal soldiers, well-fed, well-clad, and well satisfied with themselves, at least." "but no braver, no truer than my soldiers of fortune," she said earnestly. "by the way, are you informed as to the state of affairs in dawsbergen?" "scarcely as well as your highness must be," he replied. "the young prince--what's his name?" she paused, looking to him for the name. "dantan?" "yes, that's it. what has become of him? i am terribly interested in him." "he is a fugitive, they say." "they haven't captured him, then? good! i am so glad." baldos exhibited little or no interest in the fresh topic. "it is strange you should have forgotten his name," he said wearily. "oh, i do so many ridiculous things!" complained beverly, remembering who she was supposed to be. "i have never seen him, you know," she added. "it is not strange, your highness. he was educated in england and had seen but little of his own country when he was called to the throne two years ago. you remember, of course, that his mother was an englishwoman--lady ida falconer." "i--i think i have heard some of his history--a very little, to be sure," she explained lamely. "prince gabriel, his half brother, is the son of prince louis the third by his first wife, who was a polish countess. after her death, when gabriel was two years old, the prince married lady ida. dantan is their son. he has a sister--candace, who is but nineteen years of age." "i am ashamed to confess that you know so much more about my neighbors than i," she said. "i lived in dawsbergen for a little while, and was ever interested in the doings of royalty. that is a poor man's privilege, you know." "prince gabriel must be a terrible man," cried beverly, her heart swelling with tender thoughts of the exiled dantan and his little sister. "you have cause to know," said he shortly, and she was perplexed until she recalled the stories of gabriel's misdemeanors at the court of edelweiss. "is prince dantan as handsome as they say he is?" she asked. "it is entirely a matter of opinion," he replied. "i, for one, do not consider him at all prepossessing." the day went on, fatiguing, distressing in its length and its happenings. progress was necessarily slow, the perils of the road increasing as the little cavalcade wound deeper and deeper into the wilderness. there were times when the coach fairly crawled along the edge of a precipice, a proceeding so hazardous that beverly shuddered as if in a chill. aunt fanny slept serenely most of the time, and baldos took to dreaming with his eyes wide open. contrary to her expectations, the axphainians did not appear, and if there were robbers in the hills they thought better than to attack the valorous-looking party. it dawned upon her finally that the axphainians were guarding the upper route and not the one over which she was traveling. yetive doubtless was approaching ganlook over the northern pass, provided the enemy had not been encountered before labbot was reached. beverly soon found herself fearing for the safety of the princess, a fear which at last became almost unendurable. near nightfall they came upon three graustark shepherds and learned that ganlook could not be reached before the next afternoon. the tired, hungry travelers spent the night in a snug little valley through which a rivulet bounded onward to the river below. the supper was a scant one, the foragers having poor luck in the hunt for food. daybreak saw them on their way once more. hunger and dread had worn down beverly's supply of good spirits; she was having difficulty in keeping the haggard, distressed look from her face. her tender, hopeful eyes were not so bold or so merry as on the day before; cheerfulness cost her an effort, but she managed to keep it fairly alive. her escort, wretched and half-starved, never forgot the deference due to their charge, but strode steadily on with the doggedness of martyrs. at times she was impelled to disclose her true identity, but discretion told her that deception was her best safeguard. late in the afternoon of the second day the front axle of the coach snapped in two, and a tedious delay of two hours ensued. baldos was strangely silent and subdued. it was not until the misfortune came that beverly observed the flushed condition of his face. involuntarily and with the compassion of a true woman she touched his hand and brow. they were burning-hot. the wounded man was in a high fever. he laughed at her fears and scoffed at the prospect of blood-poisoning and the hundred other possibilities that suggested themselves to her anxious brain. "we are close to ganlook," he said, with the setting of the sun. "soon you may be relieved of your tiresome, cheerless company, your highness." "you are going to a physician," she said, resolutely, alive and active once more, now that the worst part of the journey was coming to an end. "tell that man to drive in a gallop all the rest of the way!" chapter viii through the ganlook gates by this time they were passing the queer little huts that marked the outskirts of a habitable community. these were the homes of shepherds, hunters and others whose vocations related especially to the mountains. farther on there were signs of farming interests; the homes became more numerous and more pretentious in appearance. the rock-lined gorge broadened into a fertile valley; the road was smooth and level, a condition which afforded relief to the travelers. ravone had once more dressed the wounds inflicted by the lion; but he was unable to provide anything to subdue the fever. baldos was undeniably ill. beverly, between her exclamations of joy and relief at being in sight of ganlook, was profuse in her expressions of concern for the hero of the hawk and raven. the feverish gleam in his dark eyes and the pain that marked his face touched her deeply. suffering softened his lean, sun-browned features, obliterating the mocking lines that had impressed her so unfavorably at the outset. she was saying to herself that he was handsome after a most unusual cast; it was an unforgetable face. "your highness," he said earnestly, after she had looked long and anxiously at his half-closed eyes, "we are within an hour of ganlook. it will be dark before we reach the gates, i know, but you have nothing to fear during the rest of the trip. franz shall drive you to the sentry post and turn over the horses to your own men. my friends and i must leave you at the end of the mountain road. we are--" "ridiculous!" she cried. "i'll not permit it! you must go to a hospital." "if i enter the ganlook gates it will be the same as entering the gates of death," he protested. "nonsense! you have a fever or you wouldn't talk like that. i can promise you absolute security." "you do not understand, your highness." "nevertheless, you are going to a hospital," she firmly said. "you would die out here in the wilds, so what are the odds either way? aunt fanny, _will_ you be careful? don't you know that the least movement of those bags hurts him?" "please, do not mind me, your highness. i am doing very well," he said, smiling. the coach brought up in front of a roadside inn. while some of the men were watering the horses others gathered about its open window. a conversation in a tongue utterly incomprehensible to beverly took place between baldos and his followers. the latter seemed to be disturbed about something, and there was no mistaking the solicitous air with which they regarded their leader. the pseudo-princess was patient as long as possible and then broke into the discussion. "what do they want?" she demanded in english. "they are asking for instructions," he answered. "instruct them to do as i bid," she said. "tell them to hurry along and get you a doctor; that's all." evidently his friends were of the same opinion, for after a long harangue in which he was obdurate to the last, they left the carriage and he sank back with a groan of dejection. "what is it?" she anxiously demanded. "they also insist that i shall go to a surgeon," he said hopelessly. his eyes were moist and he could not meet her gaze. she was full of exultation. "they have advised me to put myself under your protection, shameless as that may seem to a man. you and you alone have the power to protect me if i pass beyond the walls of ganlook." "i?" she cried, all a-flutter. "i could not thrust my head into the jaws of death unless the princess of graustark were there to stay their fury. your royal hand alone can turn aside the inevitable. alas, i am helpless and know not what to do." beverly calhoun sat very straight and silent beside the misguided baldos. after all, it was not within her power to protect him. she was not the princess and she had absolutely no influence in ganlook. the authorities there could not be deceived as had been these ignorant men of the hills. if she led him into the city it was decidedly probable that she might be taking him to his death. she only could petition, not command. once at yetive's side she was confident she could save the man who had done so much for her, but ganlook was many miles from edelweiss, and there was no assurance that intervention could be obtained in time. on the other hand, if he went back to the hills he was likely to die of the poisonous fever. beverly was in a most unhappy state of mind. if she confessed to him that she was not the princess, he would refuse to enter the gates of ganlook, and be perfectly justified in doing so. "but if i should fail?" she asked, at last, a shiver rushing over her and leaving her cold with dread. "you are the only hope, your highness. you had better say farewell to baldos and let him again seek the friendly valley," said he wearily. "we can go no farther. the soldiers must be near, your highness. it means capture if we go on. i cannot expose my friends to the dangers. let me be put down here, and do you drive on to safety. i shall fare much better than you think, for i am young and strong and--" "no! i'll risk it," she cried. "you must go into the city. tell them so and say that i will protect you with my own life and honor." fever made him submissive; her eyes gave him confidence; her voice soothed his fears, if he possessed them. leaning from the window, he called his men together. beverly looked on in wonder as these strange men bade farewell to their leader. many of them were weeping, and most of them kissed his hand. there were broken sentences, tear-choked promises, anxious inquiries, and the parting was over. "where are they going?" beverly whispered, as they moved away in the dusk. "back into the mountains to starve, poor fellows. god be kind to them, god be good to them," he half sobbed, his chin dropping to his breast. he was trembling like a leaf. "starve?" she whispered. "have they no money?" "we are penniless," came in muffled tones from the stricken leader. beverly leaned from the window and called to the departing ones. ravone and one other reluctantly approached. without a word she opened a small traveling bag and drew forth a heavy purse. this she pressed into the hand of the student. it was filled with graustark gavvos, for which she had exchanged american gold in russia. "god be with you," she fervently cried. he kissed her hand, and the two stood aside to let the coach roll on into the dusky shadows that separated them from the gates of ganlook, old franz still driving--the only one of the company left to serve his leader to the very end. "well, we have left them," muttered baldos, as though to himself. "i may never see them again--never see them again. god, how true they have been!" "i shall send for them the moment i get to ganlook and i'll promise pardons for them all," she cried rashly, in her compassion. "no!" he exclaimed fiercely. "you are not to disturb them. better that they should starve." beverly was sufficiently subdued. as they drew nearer the city gates her heart began to fail her. this man's life was in her weak, incapable hands and the time was nearing when she must stand between him and disaster. "where are these vaunted soldiers of yours?" he suddenly asked, infinite irony in his voice. "my soldiers?" she said faintly. "isn't it rather unusual that, in time of trouble and uncertainty, we should be able to approach within a mile of one of your most important cities without even so much as seeing a soldier of graustark?" she felt that he was scoffing, but it mattered little to her. "it is a bit odd, isn't it?" she agreed. "worse than that, your highness." "i shall speak to dangloss about it," she said serenely, and he looked up in new surprise. truly, she was an extraordinary princess. fully three-quarters of an hour passed before the coach was checked. beverly, looking from the windows, had seem the lighted windows of cottages growing closer and closer together. the barking of roadside dogs was the only sound that could be heard above the rattle of the wheels. it was too dark inside the coach to see the face of the man beside her, but something told her that he was staring intently into the night, alert and anxious. the responsibility of her position swooped down upon her like an avalanche as she thought of what the next few minutes were to bring forth. it was the sudden stopping of the coach and the sharp commands from the outside that told her probation was at an end. she could no longer speculate; it was high time to act. "the outpost," came from baldos, in strained tones. "perhaps they won't know us--you, i mean," she whispered. "baron dangloss knows everybody," he replied bitterly. "what a horrid old busy-body he--" she started to say, but thought better of it. a couple of lanterns flashed at the window, almost blinding her. aunt fanny groaned audibly, but the figure of baldos seemed to stiffen with defiance. uniformed men peered into the interior with more rudeness and curiosity than seemed respectful to a princess, to say the least. they saw a pretty, pleading face, with wide gray eyes and parted lips, but they did not bow in humble submission as baldos had expected. one of the men, evidently in command, addressed beverly in rough but polite tones. it was a question that he asked, she knew, but she could not answer him, for she could not understand him. "what do you want?" she put in english, with a creditable display of dignity. "he does not speak english, your highness," volunteered baldos, in a voice so well disguised that it startled her. the officer was staring blankly at her. "every officer in my army should and must learn to speak english," she said, at her wits' end, "i decline to be questioned by the fellow. will you talk to him in my stead?" "i, your highness?" he cried in dismay. "yes. tell him who we are and ask where the hospital is," she murmured, sinking back with the air of a queen, but with the inward feeling that all was lost. "but i don't speak your language well," he protested. "you speak it beautifully," she said. baldos leaned forward painfully and spoke to the officer in the graustark tongue. "don't you know your princess?" he demanded, a trifle harshly. the man's eyes flew wide open in an instant and his jaw dropped. "th--the princess?" he gasped. "don't stare like that, sir. direct us to the main gate at once, or you will have cause to regret your slowness." "but the princess was--is coming by the northern pass," mumbled the man. "the guard has gone out to meet her and--" baldos cut him off shortly with the information that the princess, as he could see, had come by the lower pass and that she was eager to reach a resting-place at once. the convincing tone of the speaker and the regal indifference of the lady had full effect upon the officer, who had never seen her highness. he fell back with a deep obeisance, and gave a few bewildered commands to his men. the coach moved off, attended by a party of foot-soldiers, and beverly breathed her first sigh of relief. "you did it beautifully," she whispered to baldos, and he was considerably puzzled by the ardor of her praise. "where are we going now?" she asked. "into the city, your highness," he answered. it was beginning to dawn upon him that she was amazingly ignorant and inconsequential for one who enjoyed the right to command these common soldiers. her old trepidation returned with this brief answer. something told her that he was beginning to mistrust her at last. after all, it meant everything to him and so little to her. when the coach halted before the city gates she was in a dire state of unhappiness. in the darkness she could feel the reproachful eyes of old aunt fanny searching for her abandoned conscience. "ask if baron dangloss is in ganlook, and, if he is, command them to take me to him immediately," she whispered to baldos, a sudden inspiration seizing her. she would lay the whole matter before the great chief of police, and trust to fortune. her hand fell impulsively upon his and, to her amazement, it was as cold as ice. "what is the matter?" she cried in alarm. "you trusted me in the wilds, your highness," he said tensely; "i am trusting you now." before she could reply the officer in charge of the ganlook gates appeared at the coach window. there were lights on all sides. her heart sank like lead. it would be a miracle if she passed the gates unrecognized. "i must see baron dangloss at once," she cried in english, utterly disdaining her instructions to baldos. "the baron is engaged at present and can see no one," responded the good-looking young officer in broken english. "where is he?" she demanded nervously. "he is at the home of colonel goaz, the commandant. what is your business with him?" "it is with him and not with you, sir," she said, imperious once more. "conduct me to him immediately." "you cannot enter the gates unless you--" "insolence!" exclaimed baldos. "is this the way, sir, in which you address the princess? make way for her." "the princess!" gasped the officer. then a peculiar smile overspread his face. he had served three years in the castle guard at edelweiss! there was a long pause fraught with disaster for beverly. "yes, perhaps it is just as well that we conduct her to baron dangloss," he said at last. the deep meaning in his voice appealed only to the unhappy girl. "there shall be no further delay, _your highness!_" he added mockingly. a moment later the gates swung open and they passed through. beverly alone knew that they were going to baron dangloss under heavy guard, virtually as prisoners. the man knew her to be an impostor and was doing only his duty. there were smiles of derision on the faces of the soldiers when beverly swept proudly between the files and up the steps leading to the commandant's door, but there were no audible remarks. baldos followed, walking painfully but defiantly, and aunt fanny came last with the handbag. the guards grinned broadly as the corpulent negress waddled up the steps. the young officer and two men entered the door with the wayfarers, who were ordered to halt in the hallway. "will your highness come with me?" said the officer, returning to the hall after a short absence. there was unmistakable derision in his voice and palpable insolence in his manner. beverly flushed angrily. "baron dangloss is very _curious_ to see you," he added, with a smile. nevertheless, he shrank a bit beneath the cold gleam in the eyes of the impostor. "you will remain here," she said, turning to baldos and the negress. "and you will have nothing whatever to say to this very important young man." the "important young man" actually chuckled. "follow me, your most royal highness," he said, preceding her through the door that opened into the office of the commandant. baldos glared after them in angry amazement. "young man, some day and _soon_ you will be a much wiser soldier and, in the ranks," said beverly hotly. the smile instantly receded from the insolent fellow's face, for there was a world of prophecy in the way she said it. somehow, he was in a much more respectful humor when he returned to the hall and stood in the presence of the tall, flushed stranger with the ragged uniform. a short, fierce little man in the picturesque uniform of a graustark officer arose as beverly entered the office. his short beard bristled as though it were concealing a smile, but his manner was polite, even deferential. she advanced fearlessly toward him, a wayward smile struggling into her face. "i daresay you know i am not the princess," she said composedly. every vestige of fear was gone now that she had reached the line of battle. the doughty baron looked somewhat surprised at this frank way of opening the interview. "i am quite well aware of it," he said politely. "they say you know everyone, baron dangloss," she boldly said. "pray, who am i?" the powerful official looked at the smiling face for a moment, his bushy eyebrows contracting ever so slightly. there was a shameless streak of dust across her cheek, but there was also a dimple there that appealed to the grim old man. his eyes twinkled as he replied, with fine obsequiousness: "you are miss beverly calhoun, of washington." chapter ix the redoubtable dangloss beverly's eyes showed her astonishment. baron dangloss courteously placed a chair for her and asked her to be seated. "we were expecting you, miss calhoun," he explained. "her royal highness left st. petersburg but a few hours after your departure, having unfortunately missed you." "you don't mean to say that the princess tried to find me in st. petersburg?" cried beverly, in wonder and delight. "that was one of the purposes of her visit," said he brusquely. "oh, how jolly!" cried she, her gray eyes sparkling. the grim old captain was startled for the smallest fraction of a minute, but at once fell to admiring the fresh, eager face of the visitor. "the public at large is under the impression that she visited the czar on matters of importance," he said, with a condescending smile. "and it really was of no importance at all, that's what you mean?" she smiled back securely. "your message informing her highness of your presence in st. petersburg had no sooner arrived than she set forth to meet you in that city, much against the advice of her counsellors. i will admit that she had other business there but it could have waited. you see, miss calhoun, it was a great risk at this particular time. misfortune means disaster now. but providence was her friend. she arrived safely in ganlook not an hour since." "really? oh, baron dangloss, where is she?" excitedly cried the american girl. "for the night she is stopping with the countess rallowitz. a force of men, but not those whom you met at the gates, has just been dispatched at her command to search for you in the lower pass. you took the most dangerous road, miss calhoun, and i am amazed that you came through in safety." "the russians chose the lower pass, i know not why. of course, i was quite ignorant. however, we met neither brigands nor soldiers, axphain or graustark. i encountered nothing more alarming than a mountain lion. and that, baron dangloss, recalls me to the sense of a duty i have been neglecting. a poor wanderer in the hills defended me against the beast and was badly wounded. he must be taken to a hospital at once, sir, where he may have the proper care." whereupon, at his request, she hurriedly related the story of that trying journey through the mountains, not forgetting to paint the courage of baldos in most glowing colors. the chief was deeply interested in the story of the goat-hunter and his party. there was an odd gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, but she did not observe it. "you _will_ see that he has immediate attention, won't you?" she implored in the end. "he shall have our deepest consideration," promised he. "you know i am rather interested, because i shot him, just as if it were not enough that his legs were being torn by the brute at the time. he ought not to walk, baron dangloss. if you don't mind, i'd suggest an ambulance," she hurried on glibly. he could not conceal the smile that her eagerness inspired. "really, he is in a serious condition. i think he needs some quinine and whiskey, too, and--" "he shall have the _best_ of care," interrupted the captain. "leave him to me, miss calhoun." "now, let me tell you something," said she, after due reflection. "you must not pay any attention to what he says. he is liable to be delirious and talk in a terrible sort of way. you know delirious people never talk rationally." she was loyally trying to protect baldos, the hunted, against any incriminating statements he might make. "quite right, miss calhoun," said the baron very gravely. "and now, i'd like to go to the princess," said beverly, absolutely sure of herself. "you know we are great friends, she and i." "i have sent a messenger to announce your arrival. she will expect you." beverly looked about the room in perplexity. "but there has been no messenger here," she said. "he left here some minutes before you came. i knew who it was that came knocking at our gates, even though she traveled as princess yetive of graustark." "and, oh! that reminds me, baron dangloss, baldos still believes me to be the princess. is it necessary to--to tell him the truth about me? just at present, i mean? i'm sure he'll rest much easier if he doesn't know differently." "so far as i am concerned, miss calhoun, he shall always regard you as a queen," said dangloss gallantly. "thank you. it's very nice of you to--" a man in uniform entered after knocking at the door of the room. he saluted his superior and uttered a few words in his own language. "her royal highness is awaiting you at the home of the countess, miss calhoun. a detail of men will escort you and your servant to her place." "now, please, baron dangloss," pleaded beverly at the door, "be nice to him. you know it hurts him to walk. can't you have him carried in?" "if he will consent," said he quietly. beverly hurried into the outer room, after giving the baron a smile he never forgot. baldos looked up eagerly, anxiously. "it's all right," she said in low tones, pausing for a moment beside his chair. "don't get up! good-bye. i'll come to see you to-morrow. don't be in the least disturbed. baron dangloss has his instructions." impulsively giving him her hand which he respectfully raised to his lips, she followed aunt fanny and was gone. almost immediately baldos was requested to present himself before baron dangloss in the adjoining room. refusing to be carried in, he resolutely strode through the door and stood before the grim old captain of police, an easy, confident smile on his face. the black patch once more covered his eye with defiant assertiveness. "they tell me you are baldos, a goat-hunter," said baron dangloss, eyeing him keenly. "yes." "and you were hurt in defending one who is of much consequence in graustark. sit down, my good fellow." baldos' eyes gleamed coldly for an instant. then he sank into a chair. "while admitting that you have done graustark a great service, i am obliged to tell you that i, at least, know you to be other than what you say. you are not a goat-hunter, and baldos is not your name. am i not right?" "you have had instructions from your sovereign, baron dangloss. did they include a command to cross-question me?" asked baldos haughtily. dangloss hesitated for a full minute. "they did not. i take the liberty of inquiring on my own responsibility." "very well, sir. until you have a right to question me, i am baldos and a goat-hunter. i think i am here to receive surgical treatment." "you decline to tell me anything concerning yourself?" "only that i am injured and need relief." "perhaps i know more about you than you suspect, sir." "i am not in the least interested, baron dangloss, in what you know. the princess brought me into ganlook, and i have her promise of help and protection while here. that is all i have to say, except that i have implicit faith in her word." dangloss sat watching him in silence for some time. no one but himself knew what was going on in that shrewd, speculative mind. at length he arose and approached the proud fellow in rags. "you have earned every consideration at our hands. my men will take you to the hospital and you shall have the best of care. you have served our princess well. to-morrow you may feel inclined to talk more freely with me, for i am your friend, baldos." "i am grateful for that, baron dangloss," said the other simply. then he was led away and a comfortable cot in the ganlook hospital soon held his long, feverish frame, while capable hands took care of his wounds. he did not know it, but two fully armed soldiers maintained a careful guard outside his door under instructions from the head of the police. moreover, a picked detail of men sallied forth into the lower pass in search of the goat-hunter's followers. in the meantime beverly was conducted to the home of the countess rallowitz. her meeting with the princess was most affectionate. there were tears, laughter and kisses. the whole atmosphere of the place suggested romance to the eager american girl. downstairs were the royal guards; in the halls were attendants; all about were maidservants and obsequious lackeys, crowding the home of the kindly countess. at last, comfortable and free from the dust of travel, the two friends sat down to a dainty meal. "oh, i am so delighted," murmured beverly for the hundredth time. "i'm appalled when i think of the dangers you incurred in coming to me. no one but a very foolish american girl could have undertaken such a trip as this. dear me, beverly, i should have died if anything dreadful had happened to you. why did you do it?" questioned the princess. and then they laughed joyously. "and you went all the way to st. petersburg to meet me, you dear, dear yetive," cried beverly, so warmly that the attentive servant forgot his mask of reverence. "wasn't it ridiculous of me? i know gren would have forbidden it if he had been in edelweiss when i started. and, more shame to me, the poor fellow is doubtless at the conference with dawsbergen, utterly ignorant of my escapade. you should have heard the ministry--er--ah--" and the princess paused for an english word. "kick?" beverly supplied. "yes. they objected violently. and, do you know, i was finally compelled to issue a private edict to restrain them from sending an appeal to grenfall away off there on the frontier. whether or no, my uncle insisted that he should be brought home, a three-days' journey, in order that he might keep me from going to st. petersburg. of course, they could not disobey my edict, and so poor gren is none the wiser, unless he has returned from the conference. if he has, i am sure he is on the way to ganlook at this very minute." "what a whimsical ruler you are," cried beverly. "upsetting everything sensible just to rush off hundreds of miles to meet me. and axphain is trying to capture you, too! goodness, you must love me!" "oh, but i _did_ have a trifling affair of state to lay before the czar, my dear. to-morrow we shall be safe and sound in the castle and it will all be very much worth while. you see, beverly, dear, even princesses enjoy a diversion now and then. one wouldn't think anything of this adventure in the united states; it is the environment that makes it noticeable. besides, you traveled as a princess. how did you like it?" and then the conversation related particularly to the advantages of royalty as viewed from one side and the disadvantages as regarded from another. for a long time beverly had been wondering how she should proceed in the effort to secure absolute clemency for baldos. as yet she had said nothing to yetive of her promise to him, made while she was a princess. "at any rate, i'm sure the goat-hunters would not have been so faithful and true if they had not believed me to be a princess," said beverly, paving the way. "you haven't a man in your kingdom who could be more chivalrous than baldos." "if he is that kind of a man, he would treat any woman as gently." "you should have heard him call me 'your highness,'" cried beverly. "he will loathe me if he ever learns that i deceived him." "oh, i think he deceived himself," spoke yetive easily. "besides, you look as much like a princess as i." "there is something i want to speak very seriously about to you, yetive," said beverly, making ready for the cast. "you see, he did not want to enter ganlook with me, but i insisted. he had been so brave and gallant, and he was suffering so intensely. it would have been criminal in me to leave him out there in the wilderness, wouldn't it?" "it would have been heartless." "so i just made him come along. that was right, wasn't it? that's what you would have done, no matter who he was or what his objections might have been. well, you see, it's this way, yetive: he is some sort of a fugitive--not a criminal, you know--but just some one they are hunting for, i don't know why. he wouldn't tell me. that was perfectly right, if he felt that way, wasn't it?" "and he had fought a lion in your defense," supplemented yetive, with a schoolgirl's ardor. "and i had shot him in the arm, too," added beverly. "so of course, i just had to be reasonable. in order to induce him to come with me to a hospital, i was obliged to guarantee perfect safety to him. his men went back to the hills, all except old franz, the driver. now, the trouble is this, yetive: i am _not_ the princess and i cannot redeem a single promise i made to him. he is helpless, and if anything goes wrong with him he will hate me forever." "no; he will hate _me_ for i am the princess and he is none the wiser." "but he will be told that his princess was beverly calhoun, a supposedly nice american girl. don't you see how awkward it will be for me? now, yetive, darling, what i wish you to do is to write a note, order or edict or whatever it is to baron dangloss, commanding him to treat baldos as a patient and not as a prisoner; and that when he is fully recovered he is to have the privilege of leaving ganlook without reservation." "but he may be a desperate offender against the state, beverly." plaintively protested yetive. "if we only knew what he is charged with!" "i'm afraid it's something dreadfully serious," admitted beverly gloomily. "he doesn't look like the sort of man who would engage in a petty undertaking. i'll tell you his story, just as he told it to me," and she repeated the meagre confessions of baldos. "i see no reason why we should hesitate," said the princess. "by his own statement, he is not a desperate criminal. you did quite right in promising him protection, dear, and i shall sustain you. do you want to play the princess to baldos a little longer?" "i should love it," cried beverly, her eyes sparkling. "then i shall write the order to dangloss at once. oh, dear, i have forgotten, i have no official seal here." "couldn't you seal it with your ring?" suggested beverly. "oh, i have it! send for baron dangloss and have him witness your signature. he can't get away from that, you see, and after we reach edelweiss, you can fix up a regular edict, seal and all," cried the resourceful american girl. ink and paper were sent for and the two conspirators lent their wisdom to the task of preparing an order for the salvation of baldos, the fugitive. the order read: to baron jasto dangloss, commanding the civic and military police of graustark: "you are hereby informed that baldos, the man who entered the city with miss calhoun, is not to be regarded as a prisoner now or hereafter. he is to be given capable medical and surgical attention until fully recovered, when he is to be allowed to go his way in peace unquestioned. "also, he is to be provided with suitable wearing apparel and made comfortable in every way. "also, the members of his party, now in the hills (whose names are unknown to me), are to be accorded every protection. franz, the driver, is to have his freedom if he desires it. "and from this edict there is no recourse until its abatement by royal decree. "yetive." "there," said the princess, affixing her signature "i think that will be sufficient." then she rang for a servant. "send to baron dangloss and ask him to come here at once." fifteen minutes later the chief of police stood in the presence of the eager young interpreters of justice. "i want you to witness my signature, baron dangloss," said the princess after the greetings. "gladly," said the officer. "well, here is where i signed," said yetive, handing him the paper. "i don't have to write my name over again, do i?" "not at all," said the baron gallantly. and he boldly signed his name as a witness. "they wouldn't do that in the united states," murmured beverly, who knew something about red tape at washington. "it is a command to you, baron," said yetive, handing him the document with a rare smile. he read it through slowly. then he bit his lip and coughed. "what is the matter, baron?" asked yetive, still smiling. "a transitory emotion, your highness, that is all," said he; but his hand trembled as he folded the paper. chapter x inside the castle walls bright and early the next morning the party was ready for the last of the journey to edelweiss. less than twenty miles separated ganlook from the capital, and the road was in excellent condition. beverly calhoun, tired and contented, had slept soundly until aroused by the princess herself. their rooms adjoined each other, and when yetive, shortly after daybreak, stole into the american girl's chamber, beverly was sleeping so sweetly that the intruder would have retreated had it not been for the boisterous shouts of stable-boys in the courtyard below the windows. she hurried to a window and looked out upon the gray-cloaked morning. postillions and stable-boys were congregated near the gates, tormenting a ragged old man who stood with his back against one of the huge posts. in some curiosity, she called beverly from her slumbers, urging the sleepy one to hasten to the window. "is this one of your friends from the wilderness?" she asked. "it's franz!" cried beverly, rubbing her pretty eyes. then she became thoroughly awake. "what are they doing to him? who are those ruffians?" she demanded indignantly. "they are my servants, and--" "shame on them! the wretches! what has old franz done that they should--call to them! tell 'em you'll cut their heads off if they don't stop. he's a dear old fellow in spite of his rags, and he--" the window-sash flew open and the tormentors in the court below were astonished by the sound of a woman's voice, coming, as it were, from the clouds. a dozen pairs of eyes were turned upward; the commotion ended suddenly. in the window above stood two graceful, white-robed figures. the sun, still far below the ridge of mountains, had not yet robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belong to five o'clock. "what are you doing to that poor old man?" cried yetive, and it was the first time any of them had seen anger in the princess's face. they slunk back in dismay. "let him alone! you, gartz, see that he has food and drink, and without delay. report to me later on, sir, and explain, if you can, why you have conducted yourselves in so unbecoming a manner." then the window was closed and the princess found herself in the warm arms of her friend. "i couldn't understand a word you said, yetive? but i knew you were giving it to them hot and heavy. did you see how nicely old franz bowed to you? goodness, his head almost touched the ground." "he was bowing to you, beverly. you forgot that you are the princess to him." "isn't that funny? i had quite forgotten it--the poor old goose." later, when the coaches and escort were drawn up in front of the rallowitz palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief postillion, gartz, to the step of her coach. "what was the meaning of the disturbance i witnessed this morning?" she demanded. gartz hung his head. "we thought the man was crazy, your highness. he had been telling us such monstrous lies," he mumbled. "are you sure they were lies?" "oh, quite sure, your highness. they were laughable. he said, for one thing, that it was he who drove your highness's coach into ganlook last evening, when everybody knows that i had full charge of the coach and horses." "you are very much mistaken, gartz," she said, distinctly. he blinked his eyes. "your highness," he gasped, "you surely remember--" "enough, sir. franz drove the princess into ganlook last night. he says so himself, does he not?" "yes, your highness," murmured poor gartz. "what more did he say to you?" "he said he had come from his master, who is in the hospital, to inquire after your health and to bear his thanks for the kindnesses you have secured for him. he says his master is faring well and is satisfied to remain where he is. also, he said that his master was sending him back into the mountains to assure his friends that he is safe and to bear a certain message of cheer to them, sent forth by the princess. it was all so foolish and crazy, your highness, that we could but jibe and laugh at the poor creature." "it is you who have been foolish, sir. send the old man to me." "he has gone, your highness," in frightened tones. "so much the better," said the princess, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. gartz went away in a daze, and for days he took every opportunity to look for other signs of mental disorder in the conduct of his mistress, at the same time indulging in speculation as to his own soundness of mind. ganlook's population lined the chief thoroughfare, awaiting the departure of the princess, although the hour was early. beverly peered forth curiously as the coach moved off. the quaint, half-oriental costumes of the townspeople, the odd little children, the bright colors, the perfect love and reverence that shone in the faces of the multitude impressed her deeply. she was never to forget that picturesque morning. baron dangloss rode beside the coach until it passed through the southern gates and into the countryside. a company of cavalrymen acted as escort. the bright red trousers and top-boots, with the deep-blue jackets, reminded beverly more than ever of the operatic figures she had seen so often at home. there was a fierce, dark cast to the faces of these soldiers, however, that removed any suggestion of play. the girl was in ecstasies. everything about her appealed to the romantic side of her nature; everything seemed so unreal and so like the storybook. the princess smiled lovingly upon the throngs that lined the street; there was no man among them who would not have laid down his life for the gracious ruler. "oh, i love your soldiers," cried beverly warmly. "poor fellows, who knows how soon they may be called upon to face death in the dawsbergen hills?" said yetive, a shadow crossing her face. dangloss was to remain in ganlook for several days, on guard against manifestations by the axphainians. a corps of spies and scouts was working with him, and couriers were ready to ride at a moment's notice to the castle in edelweiss. before they parted, beverly extracted a renewal of his promise to take good care of baldos. she sent a message to the injured man, deploring the fact that she was compelled to leave ganlook without seeing him as she had promised. it was her intention to have him come to edelweiss as soon as he was in a condition to be removed. captain dangloss smiled mysteriously, but he had no comment to make. he had received his orders and was obeying them to the letter. "i wonder if grenfall has heard of my harum-scarum trip to st. petersburg," reflected yetive, making herself comfortable in the coach after the gates and the multitudes were far behind. "i'll go you a box of chocolate creams that we meet him before we get to edelweiss," ventured beverly. "agreed," said the princess. "don't say 'agreed,' dear. 'done' is the word," corrected the american girl airily. beverly won. grenfall lorry and a small company of horsemen rode up in furious haste long before the sun was in mid-sky. an attempt to depict the scene between him and his venturesome wife would be a hopeless task. the way in which his face cleared itself of distress and worry was a joy in itself. to use his own words, he breathed freely for the first time in hours. "the american" took the place of the officer who rode beside the coach, and the trio kept up an eager, interesting conversation during the next two hours. it was a warm, sleepy day, but all signs of drowsiness disappeared with the advent of lorry. he had reached edelweiss late the night before, after a three days' ride from the conference with dawsbergen. at first he encountered trouble in trying to discover what had become of the princess. those at the castle were aware of the fact that she had reached ganlook safely and sought to put him off with subterfuges. he stormed to such a degree, however, that their object failed. the result was that he was off for ganlook with the earliest light of day. regarding the conference with prince gabriel's representatives, he had but little to say. the escaped murderer naturally refused to surrender and was to all appearances quite firmly established in power once more. lorry's only hope was that the reversal of feeling in dawsbergen might work ruin for the prince. he was carrying affairs with a high hand, dealing vengeful blows to the friends of his half-brother and encouraging a lawlessness that sooner or later must prove his undoing. his representatives at the conference were an arrogant, law-defying set of men who laughed scornfully at every proposal made by the graustarkians. "we told them that if he were not surrendered to our authorities inside of sixty days we would declare war and go down and take him," concluded "the american." "two months," cried yetive. "i don't understand." "there was method in that ultimatum. axphain, of course, will set up a howl, but we can forestall any action the princess volga may undertake. naturally, one might suspect that we should declare war at once, inasmuch as he must be taken sooner or later. but here is the point: before two months have elapsed the better element of dawsbergen will be so disgusted with the new dose of gabriel that it will do anything to avert a war on his account. we have led them to believe that axphain will lend moral, if not physical, support to our cause. give them two months in which to get over this tremendous hysteria, and they'll find their senses. gabriel isn't worth it, you see, and down in their hearts they know it. they really loved young dantan, who seems to be a devil of a good fellow. i'll wager my head that in six weeks they'll be wishing he were back on the throne again. and just to think of it, yetive, dear, you were off there in the very heart of axphain, risking everything," he cried, wiping the moisture from his brow. "it is just eleven days since i left edelweiss, and i have had a lovely journey," she said, with one of her rare smiles. he shook his head gravely, and she resolved in her heart never to give him another such cause for alarm. "and in the meantime, mr. grenfall lorry, you are blaming me and hating me and all that for being the real cause of your wife's escapade," said beverly calhoun plaintively. "i'm awfully sorry. but, you must remember one thing, sir; i did not put her up to this ridiculous trip. she did it of her own free will and accord. besides, i am the one who met the lion and almost got devoured, not yetive, if you please." "i'll punish you by turning you over to old count marlanx, the commander of the army in graustark," said lorry, laughingly. "he's a terrible ogre, worse than any lion." "heaven pity you, beverly, if you fall into his clutches," cried yetive. "he has had five wives and survives to look for a sixth. you see how terrible it would be." "i'm not afraid of him," boasted beverly, but there came a time when she thought of those words with a shudder. "by the way, yetive, i have had word from harry anguish. he and the countess will leave paris this week, if the baby's willing, and will be in edelweiss soon. you don't know how it relieves me to know that harry will be with us at this time." yetive's eyes answered his enthusiasm. both had a warm and grateful memory of the loyal service which the young american had rendered his friend when they had first come to graustark in quest of the princess; and both had a great regard for his wife, the countess dagmar, who, as yetive's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those exciting days with them. as they drew near the gates of edelweiss, a large body of horsemen rode forth to meet them. the afternoon was well on the way to night, and the air of the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the june sun. "edelweiss at last," murmured beverly, her face aglow. "the heart of graustark. do you know that i have been brushing up on my grammar? i have learned the meaning of the word 'graustark,' and it seems so appropriate. _grau_ is gray, hoary, old; _stark_ is strong. old and strong--isn't it, dear?" "and here rides the oldest and strongest man in all graustark--the iron count of marlanx," said yetive, looking down the road. "see--the strange gray man in front there is our greatest general, our craftiest fighter, our most heartless warrior. does he not look like the eagle or the hawk?" a moment later the parties met, and the newcomers swung into line with the escort. two men rode up to the carriage and saluted. one was count marlanx, the other colonel quinnox, of the royal guard. the count, lean and gray as a wolf, revealed rows of huge white teeth in his perfunctory smile of welcome, while young quinnox's face fairly beamed with honest joy. in the post that he held, he was but following in the footsteps of his forefathers. since history began in graustark, a quinnox had been in charge of the castle guard. the "iron count," as he sometimes was called, was past his sixtieth year. for twenty years he had been in command of the army. one had but to look at his strong, sardonic face to know that he was a fearless leader, a savage fighter. his eyes were black, piercing and never quiet; his hair and close-cropped beard were almost snow-white; his voice was heavy and without a vestige of warmth. since her babyhood yetive had stood in awe of this grim old warrior. it was no uncommon thing for mothers to subdue disobedient children with the threat to give them over to the "iron count." "old marlanx will get you if you're not good," was a household phrase in edelweiss. he had been married five times and as many times had he been left a widower. if he were disconsolate in any instance, no one had been able to discover the fact. enormously rich, as riches go in graustark, he had found young women for his wives who thought only of his gold and his lands in the trade they made with cupid. it was said that without exception they died happy. death was a joy. the fortress overlooking the valley to the south was no more rugged and unyielding than the man who made his home within its walls. he lived there from choice and it was with his own money that he fitted up the commandant's quarters in truly regal style. power was more to him than wealth, though he enjoyed both. colonel quinnox brought news from the castle. yetive's uncle and aunt, the count and countess halfont, were eagerly expecting her return, and the city was preparing to manifest its joy in the most exuberant fashion. as they drew up to the gates the shouts of the people came to the ears of the travelers. then the boom of cannon and the blare of bands broke upon the air, thrilling beverly to the heart. she wondered how yetive could be so calm and unmoved in the face of all this homage. past the great hotel regengetz and the tower moved the gay procession, into the broad stretch of boulevard that led to the gates of the palace grounds. the gates stood wide open and inviting. inside was jacob fraasch, the chief steward of the grounds, with his men drawn up in line; upon the walls the sentries came to parade rest; on the plaza the royal band was playing as though by inspiration. then the gates closed behind the coach and escort, and beverly calhoun was safe inside the castle walls. the "iron count" handed her from the carriage at the portals of the palace, and she stood as one in a dream. chapter xi the royal coach of graustark the two weeks following beverly calhoun's advent into the royal household were filled with joy and wonder for her. daily she sent glowing letters to her father, mother and brothers in washington, elaborating vastly upon the paradise into which she had fallen. to her highly emotional mind, the praises of graustark had been but poorly sung. the huge old castle, relic of the feudal days, with its turrets and bastions and portcullises, impressed her with a never-ending sense of wonder. its great halls and stairways, its chapel, the throne-room, and the armor-closet; its underground passages and dungeons all united to fill her imaginative soul with the richest, rarest joys of finance. simple american girl that she was, unused to the rigorous etiquette of royalty, she found embarrassment in the first confusion of events, but she was not long in recovering her poise. her apartments were near those of the princess yetive. in the private intercourse enjoyed by these women, all manner of restraint was abandoned by the visitor and every vestige of royalty slipped from the princess. count halfont and his adorable wife, the countess yvonne, both of whom had grown old in the court, found the girl and her strange servant a source of wonder and delight. some days after beverly's arrival there came to the castle harry anguish and his wife, the vivacious dagmar. with them came the year-old cooing babe who was to overthrow the heart and head of every being in the household, from princess down. the tiny dagmar became queen at once, and no one disputed her rule. anguish, the painter, became anguish, the strategist and soldier. he planned with lorry and the ministry, advancing some of the most hair-brained projects that ever encouraged discussion in a solemn conclave. the staid, cautious ministers looked upon him with wonder, but so plausible did he made his proposals appear that they were forced to consider them seriously. the old count of marlanx held him in great disdain, and did not hesitate to expose his contempt. this did not disturb anguish in the least, for he was as optimistic as the sunshine. his plan for the recapture of gabriel was ridiculously improbable, but it was afterwards seen that had it been attempted much distress and delay might actually have been avoided. yetive and beverly, with dagmar and the baby, made merry while the men were in council. their mornings were spent in the shady park surrounding the castle, their afternoons in driving, riding and walking. oftentimes the princess was barred from these simple pleasures by the exigencies of her position. she was obliged to grant audiences, observe certain customs of state, attend to the charities that came directly under her supervision, and confer with the nobles on affairs of weight and importance. beverly delighted in the throne-room and the underground passages; they signified more to her than all the rest. she was shown the room in which lorry had foiled the viennese who once tried to abduct yetive. the dungeon where gabriel spent his first days of confinement, the tower in which lorry had been held a prisoner, and the monastery in the clouds were all places of unusual interest to her. soon the people of the city began to recognize the fair american girl who was a guest in the castle, and a certain amount of homage was paid to her. when she rode or drove in the streets, with her attendant soldiers, the people bowed as deeply and as respectfully as they did to the princess herself, and beverly was just as grand and gracious as if she had been born with a sceptre in her hand. the soft moonlight nights charmed her with a sense of rapture never known before. with the castle brilliantly illuminated, the halls and drawing-rooms filled with gay courtiers, the harpists at their posts, the military band playing in the parade ground, the balconies and porches offering their most inviting allurements, it is no wonder that beverly was entranced. war had no terrors for her. if she thought of it at all, it was with the fear that it might disturb the dream into which she had fallen. true, there was little or nothing to distress the most timid in these first days. the controversy between the principalities was at a standstill, although there was not an hour in which preparations for the worst were neglected. to beverly calhoun, it meant little when sentiment was laid aside; to yetive and her people this probable war with dawsbergen meant everything. dangloss, going back and forth between edelweiss and the frontier north of ganlook, where the best of the police and secret service watched with the sleepless eyes of the lynx, brought unsettling news to the ministry. axphain troops were engaged in the annual maneuvers just across the border in their own territory. usually these were held in the plains near the capital, and there was a sinister significance in the fact that this year they were being carried on in the rough southern extremity of the principality, within a day's march of the graustark line, fully two months earlier than usual. the doughty baron reported that foot, horse and artillery were engaged in the drills, and that fully , men were massed in the south of axphain. the fortifications of ganlook, labbot and other towns in northern graustark were strengthened with almost the same care as those in the south, where conflict with dawsbergen might first be expected. general marlanx and his staff rested neither day nor night. the army of graustark was ready. underneath the castle's gay exterior there smouldered the fire of battle, the tremor of defiance. late one afternoon beverly calhoun and mrs. anguish drove up in state to the tower, wherein sat dangloss and his watchdogs. the scowl left his face as far as nature would permit and he welcomed the ladies warmly. "i came to ask about my friend, the goat-hunter," said beverly, her cheeks a trifle rosier than usual. "he is far from an amiable person, your highness," said the officer. when discussing baldos he never failed to address beverly as "your highness." "the fever is gone and he is able to walk without much pain, but he is as restless as a witch. following instructions, i have not questioned him concerning his plans, but i fancy he is eager to return to the hills." "what did he say when you gave him my message?" asked beverly. "which one, your highness?" asked he, with tantalizing density. "why, the suggestion that he should come to edelweiss for better treatment," retorted beverly severely. "he said he was extremely grateful for your kind offices, but he did not deem it advisable to come to this city. he requested me to thank you in his behalf and to tell you that he will never forget what you have done for him." "and he refuses to come to edelweiss?" irritably demanded beverly. "yes, your highness. you see, he still regards himself with disfavor, being a fugitive. it is hardly fair to blame him for respecting the security of the hills." "i hoped that i might induce him to give up his old life and engage in something perfectly honest, although, mind you, baron dangloss, i do not question his integrity in the least. he should have a chance to prove himself worthy, that's all. this morning i petitioned count marlanx to give him a place in the castle guard." "my dear miss calhoun, the princess has--" began the captain. "her highness has sanctioned the request," interrupted she. "and the count has promised to discover a vacancy," said dagmar, with a smile that the baron understood perfectly well. "this is the first time on record that old marlanx has ever done anything to oblige a soul save himself. it is wonderful, miss calhoun. what spell do you americans cast over rock and metal that they become as sand in your fingers?" said the baron, admiration and wonder in his eyes. "you dear old flatterer," cried beverly, so warmly that he caught his breath. "i believe that you can conquer even that stubborn fellow in ganlook," he said, fumbling with his glasses. "he is the most obstinate being i know, and yet in ten minutes you could bring him to terms, i am sure. he could not resist you." "he still thinks i am the princess?" "he does, and swears by you." "then, my mind is made up. i'll go to ganlook and bring him back with me, willy-nilly. he is too good a man to be lost in the hills. good-bye, baron dangloss. thank you ever and ever so much. oh, yes; will you write an order delivering him over to me? the hospital people may be--er--disobliging, you know." "it shall be in your highness's hands this evening." the next morning, with colonel quinnox and a small escort, beverly calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for ganlook, accompanied by faithful aunt fanny. she carried the order from baron dangloss and a letter from yetive to the countess rallowitz, insuring hospitality over night in the northern town. lorry and the royal household entered merrily into her project, and she went away with the godspeeds of all. the iron count himself rode beside her coach to the city gates, an unheard-of condescension. "now, you'll be sure to find a nice place for him in the castle guard, won't you, count marlanx?" she said at the parting, her hopes as fresh as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. the count promised faithfully, even eagerly. colonel quinnox, trained as he was in the diplomacy of silence, could scarcely conceal his astonishment at the conquest of the hard old warrior. although the afternoon was well spent before beverly reached ganlook, she was resolved to visit the obdurate patient at once, relying upon her resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for edelweiss on the following morning. the coach delivered her at the hospital door in grand style. when the visitor was ushered into the snug little room of the governor's office, her heart was throbbing and her composure was undergoing a most unusual strain. it annoyed her to discover that the approaching contact with an humble goat-hunter was giving her such unmistakable symptoms of perturbation. from an upstairs window in the hospital the convalescent but unhappy patient witnessed her approach and arrival. his sore, lonely heart gave a bound of joy, for the days had seemed long since her departure. he had had time to think during these days, too. turning over in his mind all of the details in connection with their meeting and their subsequent intercourse, it began to dawn upon him that she might not be what she assumed to be. doubts assailed him, suspicions grew into amazing forms of certainty. there were times when he laughed sardonically at himself for being taken in by this strange but charming young woman, but through it all his heart and mind were being drawn more and more fervently toward her. more than once he called himself a fool and more than once he dreamed foolish dreams of her--princess or not. of one thing he was sure: he had come to love the adventure for the sake of what it promised and there was no bitterness beneath his suspicions. arrayed in clean linen and presentable clothes, pale from indoor confinement and fever, but once more the straight and strong cavalier of the hills, he hastened into her presence when the summons came for him to descend. he dropped to his knee and kissed her hand, determined to play the game, notwithstanding his doubts. as he arose she glanced for a flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped. "your highness!" he said gratefully. "how well and strong you look," she said hurriedly. "some of the tan is gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. are you quite recovered?" "they say i am as good as new," he smilingly answered. "a trifle weak and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the mountains will overcome all that. is all well with you and graustark? they will give me no news here, by whose order i do not know." "turn about is fair play, sir. it is a well-established fact that you will give _them_ no news. yes, all is well with me and mine. were you beginning to think that i had deserted you? it has been two weeks, hasn't it?" "ah, your highness, i realize that you have had much more important things to do than to think of poor baldos, i am exceedingly grateful for this sign of interest in my welfare. your visit is the brightest experience of my life." "be seated!" she cried suddenly. "you are too ill to stand." "were i dying i should refuse to be seated while your highness stands," said he simply. his shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching a sword-hilt. beverly sat down instantly; with his usual easy grace, he took a chair near by. they were alone in the ante-chamber. "even though you were on your last legs?" she murmured, and then wondered how she could have uttered anything so inane. somehow, she was beginning to fear that he was not the ordinary person she had judged him to be. "you are to be discharged from the hospital to-morrow," she added hastily. "to-morrow?" he cried, his eyes lighting with joy. "i may go then?" "i have decided to take you to edelweiss with me," she said, very much as if that were all there was to it. he stared at her for a full minute as though doubting his ears. "no!" he said, at last, his jaws settling, his eyes glistening. it was a terrible setback for beverly's confidence. "your highness forgets that i have your promise of absolute freedom." "but you are to be free," she protested. "you have nothing to fear. it is not compulsory, you know. you don't have to go unless you really want to. but my heart is set on having you in--in the castle guard." his bitter, mocking laugh surprised and wounded her, which he was quick to see, for his contrition was immediate. "pardon, your highness. i am a rude, ungrateful wretch, and i deserve punishment instead of reward. the proposal was so astounding that i forgot myself completely," he said. whereupon, catching him in this contrite mood, she began a determined assault against his resolution. for an hour she devoted her whole heart and soul to the task of overcoming his prejudices, fears and objections, meeting his protestations firmly and logically, unconscious of the fact that her very enthusiasm was betraying her to him. the first signs of weakening inspired her afresh and at last she was riding over him rough-shod, a happy victor. she made promises that yetive herself could not have made; she offered inducements that never could be carried out, although in her zeal she did not know it to be so; she painted such pictures of ease, comfort and pleasure that he wondered why royalty did not exchange places with its servants. in the end, overcome by the spirit of adventure and a desire to be near her, he agreed to enter the service for six months, at the expiration of which time he was to be released from all obligations if he so desired. "but my friends in the pass, your highness," he said in surrendering, "what is to become of them? they are waiting for me out there in the wilderness. i am not base enough to desert them." "can't you get word to them?" she asked eagerly. "let them come into the city, too. we will provide for the poor fellows, believe me." "that, at least, is impossible, your highness," he said, shaking his head sadly. "you will have to slay them before you can bring them within the city gates. my only hope is that franz may be here tonight. he has permission to enter, and i am expecting him to-day or to-morrow." "you can send word to them that you are sound and safe and you can tell them that graustark soldiers shall be instructed to pay no attention to them whatever. they shall not be disturbed." he laughed outright at her enthusiasm. many times during her eager conversation with baldos she had almost betrayed the fact that she was not the princess. some of her expressions were distinctly unregal and some of her slips were hopeless, as she viewed them in retrospect. "what am i? only the humble goat-hunter, hunted to death and eager for a short respite. do with me as you like, your highness. you shall be my princess and sovereign for six months, at least," he said, sighing. "perhaps it is for the best." "you are the strangest man i've ever seen," she remarked, puzzled beyond expression. that night franz appeared at the hospital and was left alone with baldos for an hour or more. what passed between them, no outsider knew, though there tears in the eyes of both at the parting. but franz did not start for the pass that night, as they had expected. strange news had come to the ears of the faithful old follower and he hung about ganlook until morning came, eager to catch the ear of his leader before it was too late. the coach was drawn up in front of the hospital at eight o'clock, beverly triumphant in command. baldos came down the steps slowly, carefully, favoring the newly healed ligaments in his legs. she smiled cheerily at him and he swung his rakish hat low. there was no sign of the black patch. suddenly he started and peered intently into the little knot of people near the coach. a look of anxiety crossed his face. from the crowd advanced a grizzled old beggar who boldly extended his hand. baldos grasped the proffered hand and then stepped into the coach. no one saw the bit of white paper that passed from franz's palm into the possession of baldos. then the coach was off for edelweiss, the people of ganlook enjoying the unusual spectacle of a mysterious and apparently undistinguished stranger sitting in luxurious ease beside a fair lady in the royal coach of graustark. chapter xii in service it was a drowsy day, and, besides, baldos was not in a communicative frame of mind. beverly put forth her best efforts during the forenoon, but after the basket luncheon had been disposed of in the shade at the roadside, she was content to give up the struggle and surrender to the soothing importunities of the coach as it bowled along. she dozed peacefully, conscious to the last that he was a most ungracious creature and more worthy of resentment than of benefaction. baldos was not intentionally disagreeable; he was morose and unhappy because he could not help it. was he not leaving his friends to wander alone in the wilderness while he drifted weakly into the comforts and pleasures of an enviable service? his heart was not in full sympathy with the present turn of affairs, and he could not deny that a selfish motive was responsible for his action. he had the all too human eagerness to serve beauty; the blood and fire of youth were strong in this wayward nobleman of the hills. lying back in the seat, he pensively studied the face of the sleeping girl whose dark-brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of the coach. her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. the dark lashes fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry gray that had overcome his apprehensions. her breathing was deep and regular and peaceful. one little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the other upon her breast near the delicate throat. the heart of baldos was troubled. the picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting; he rose from the lowly state in which she had found him to the position of admirer in secret to a princess, real or assumed. he found himself again wondering if she were really yetive, and with that fear in his heart he was envying grenfall lorry, the lord and master of this exquisite creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted at birth. the note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in ganlook lay crumpled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped it the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message contained information which had been forgotten by franz, and was by no means of a nature to demand immediate attention. had he read it at once his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that he would have refused to enter the city. late in the afternoon the walls of edelweiss were sighted. for the first time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of graustark. up in the clouds, on the summit of the mountain peak overlooking the city, stood the famed monastery of saint valentine. stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens, accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. beverly was awake and impatient to reach the journey's end. he had proved a most disappointing companion, polite, but with a baffling indifference that irritated her considerably. there was a set expression of defiance in his strong, clean-cut face, the look of a soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe. "i do hope he'll not always act this way," she was complaining in her thoughts. "he was so charmingly impudent out in the hills, so deliciously human. now he is like a clam. yetive will think i am such a fool if he doesn't live up to the reputation i've given him!" "here are the gates," he said, half to himself. "what is there in store for me beyond those walls?" "oh, i wish you wouldn't be so dismal," she cried in despair. "it seems just like a funeral." "a thousand apologies, your highness," he murmured, with a sudden lightness of speech and manner. "henceforth i shall be a most amiable jester, to please you." beverly and the faithful aunt fanny were driven to the castle, where the former bade farewell to her new knight until the following morning, when he was to appear before her for personal instructions. colonel quinnox escorted him to the barracks of the guards where he was to share a room with young haddan, a corporal in the service. "the wild, untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word, i see," said lorry, who had watched the approach. he and yetive stood in the window overlooking the grounds from the princess's boudoir, beverly had just entered and thrown herself upon a divan. "yes, he's here," she said shortly. "how long do you, with all your cleverness, expect to hoodwink him into the belief that you are the princess?" asked yetive, amused but anxious. "he's a great fool for being hoodwinked at all," said beverly, very much at odds with her protege. "in an hour from now he will know the truth and will be howling like a madman for his freedom." "not so soon as that, beverly," said lorry consolingly. "the guards and officers have their instructions to keep him in the dark as long as possible." "well, i'm tired and mad and hungry and everything else that isn't compatible. let's talk about the war," said beverly, the sunshine in her face momentarily eclipsed by the dark cloud of disappointment. baldos was notified that duty would be assigned to him in the morning. he went through the formalities which bound him to the service for six months, listening indifferently to the words that foretold the fate of a traitor. it was not until his hew uniform and equipment came into his possession that he remembered the note resting in his pocket. he drew it out and began to read it with the slight interest of one who has anticipated the effect. but not for long was he to remain apathetic. the first few lines brought a look of understanding to his eyes; then he laughed the easy laugh of one who has cast care and confidence to the winds. this is what he read: "she is not the princess. we have been duped. last night i learned the truth. she is miss calhoun, an american, going to be a guest at the castle. refuse to go with her into edelweiss. it may be a trap and may mean death. question her boldly before committing yourself." there came the natural impulse to make a dash for the outside world, fighting his way through if necessary. looking back over the ground, he wondered how he could have been deceived at all by the unconventional american. in the clear light of retrospection he now saw how impossible it was for her to have been the princess. every act, every word, every look should have told him the truth. every flaw in her masquerading now presented itself to him and he was compelled to laugh at his own simplicity. caution, after all, was the largest component part of his makeup; the craftiness of the hunted was deeply rooted in his being. he saw a very serious side to the adventure. stretching himself upon the cot in the corner of the room he gave himself over to plotting, planning, thinking. in the midst of his thoughts a sudden light burst in upon him. his eyes gleamed with a new fire, his heart leaped with new animation, his blood ran warm again. leaping to his feet he ran to the window to re-read the note from old franz. then he settled back and laughed with a fervor that cleared the brain of a thousand vague misgivings. "she is miss calhoun, an american going to be a guest at the castle,"--not the princess, but _miss_ calhoun. once more the memory of the clear gray eyes leaped into life; again he saw her asleep in the coach on the road from ganlook; again he recalled the fervent throbs his guilty heart had felt as he looked upon this fair creature, at one time the supposed treasure of another man. now she was miss calhoun, and her gray eyes, her entrancing smile, her wondrous vivacity were not for one man alone. it was marvelous what a change this sudden realization wrought in the view ahead of him. the whole situation seemed to be transformed into something more desirable than ever before. his face cleared, his spirits leaped higher and higher with the buoyancy of fresh relief, his confidence in himself crept back into existence. and all because the fair deceiver, the slim girl with the brave gray eyes who had drawn him into a net, was not a princess! something told him that she had not drawn him into his present position with any desire to injure or with the slightest sense of malice. to her it had been a merry jest, a pleasant comedy. underneath all he saw the goodness of her motive in taking him from the old life, and putting him into his present position of trust. he had helped her, and she was ready to help him to the limit of her power. his position in edelweiss was clearly enough defined. the more he thought of it, the more justifiable it seemed as viewed from her point of observation. how long she hoped to keep him in the dark he could not tell. the outcome would be entertaining; her efforts to deceive. if she kept them up, would be amusing. altogether, he was ready, with the leisure and joy of youth, to await developments and to enjoy the comedy from a point of view which she could not at once suspect. his subtle efforts to draw haddan into a discussion of the princess and her household resulted unsatisfactorily. the young guard was annoyingly unresponsive. he had his secret instructions and could not be inveigled into betraying himself. baldos went to sleep that night with his mind confused by doubts. his talk with haddan had left him quite undecided as to the value of old franz's warning. either franz was mistaken, or haddan was a most skilful dissembler. it struck him as utterly beyond the pale of reason that the entire castle guard should have been enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. when sleep came, he was contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give him clearer insight to the situation. both he and beverly calhoun were ignorant of the true conditions that attached themselves to the new recruit. baron dangloss alone knew that haddan was a trusted agent of the secret service, with instructions to shadow the newcomer day and night. that there was a mystery surrounding the character of baldos, the goat-hunter, dangloss did not question for an instant: and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he was using all his skill to unravel it. baldos was not summoned to the castle until noon. his serene indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the friendly but watchful haddan. dressed carefully in the close-fitting uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsomer by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the barracks. haddan coached him in the way he was to approach the princess, baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for detail. beverly was in the small audience-room off the main reception hall when he was ushered into her presence. the servants and ladies-in-waiting disappeared at a signal from her. she arose to greet him and he knelt to kiss her hand. for a moment her tongue was bound. the keen eyes of the new guard had looked into hers with a directness that seemed to penetrate her brain. that this scene was to be one of the most interesting in the little comedy was proved by the fact that two eager young women were hidden behind a heavy curtain in a corner of the room. the princess yetive and the countess dagmar were there to enjoy beverly's first hour of authority, and she was aware of their presence. "have they told you that you are to act as my especial guard and escort?" she asked, with a queer flutter in her voice. somehow this tall fellow with the broad shoulders was not the same as the ragged goat-hunter she had known at first. "no, your highness," said he, easily. "i have come for instructions. it pleases me to know that i am to have a place of honor and trust such as this." "general marlanx has told me that a vacancy exists, and i have selected you to fill it. the compensation will be attended to by the proper persons, and your duties will be explained to you by one of the officers. this afternoon, i believe, you are to accompany me on my visit to the fortress, which i am to inspect." "very well, your highness," he respectfully said. he was thinking of miss calhoun, an american girl, although he called her "your highness." "may i be permitted to ask for instructions that can come only from your highness?" "certainly," she replied. his manner was more deferential than she had ever known it to be, but he threw a bomb into her fine composure with his next remark. he addressed her in the graustark language: "is it your desire that i shall continue to address you in english?" beverly's face turned a bit red and her eyes wavered. by a wonderful effort she retained her self-control, stammering ever so faintly when she said in english: "i wish you would speak english," unwittingly giving answer to his question. "i shall insist upon that. your english is too good to be spoiled." then he made a bold test, his first having failed. he spoke once more in the native tongue, this time softly and earnestly. "as you wish, your highness, but i think it is a most ridiculous practice," he said, and his heart lost none of its courage. beverly looked at him almost pathetically. she knew that behind the curtain two young women were enjoying her discomfiture. something told her that they were stifling their mirth with dainty lace-bordered handkerchiefs. "that will do, sir," she managed to say firmly. "it's very nice of you, but after this pay your homage in english," she went on, taking a long chance on his remark. it must have been complimentary, she reasoned. as for baldos, the faintest sign of a smile touched his lips and his eyes were twinkling as he bent his head quickly. franz was right; she did not know a word of the graustark language. "i have entered the service for six months, your highness," he said in english. "you have honored me, and i give my heart as well as my arm to your cause." beverly, breathing easier, was properly impressed by this promise of fealty. she was looking with pride upon the figure of her stalwart protege. "i hope you have destroyed that horrid black patch," she said. "it has gone to keep company with other devoted but deserted friends," he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "the uniform is vastly becoming," she went on, realizing helplessly that she was providing intense amusement for the unseen auditors. "it shames the rags in which you found me." "i shall never forget them, baldos," she said, with a strange earnestness in her voice. "may i presume to inquire after the health of your good aunt fanny and--although i did not see him--your uncle sam?" he asked, with a face as straight and sincere as that of a judge. beverly swallowed suddenly and checked a laugh with some difficulty. "aunt fanny is never ill. some day i shall tell you more of uncle sam. it will interest you." "another question, if it please your highness. do you expect to return to america soon?" this was the unexpected, but she met it with admirable composure. "it depends upon the time when prince dantan resumes the throne in dawsbergen," she said. "and that day may never come," said he, such mocking regret in his voice that she looked upon him with newer interest. "why, i really believe you want to go to america," she cried. the eyes of baldos had been furtively drawn to the curtain more than once during the last few minutes. an occasional movement of the long oriental hangings attracted his attention. it dawned upon him that the little play was being overheard, whether by spies or conspirators he knew not. resentment sprang up in his breast and gave birth to a daring that was as spectacular as it was confounding. with long, noiseless strides, he reached the door before beverly could interpose. she half started from her chair, her eyes wide with dismay, her lips parted, but his hand was already clutching the curtain. he drew it aside relentlessly. two startled women stood exposed to view, smiles dying on their amazed faces. their backs were against the closed door and two hands clutching handkerchiefs dropped from a most significant altitude. one of them flashed an imperious glance at the bold discoverer, and he knew he was looking upon the real princess of graustark. he did not lose his composure. without a tremor he turned to the american girl. "your highness," he said clearly, coolly, "i fear we have spies and eavesdroppers here. is your court made up of--i should say, they are doubtless a pair of curious ladies-in-waiting. shall i begin my service, your highness, by escorting them to yonder door?" chapter xiii the three princes beverly gasped. the countess stared blankly at the new guard. yetive flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. a pretty turn, indeed, the play had taken! not a word was uttered for a full half-minute; nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their retreat. baldos stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. at last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her tones were full of deep humility when she spoke. "we crave permission to retire, your highness," she said, and there was virtuous appeal in her eyes. "i pray forgiveness for this indiscretion and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you so well that they forget their dignity." "i am amazed and shocked," was all that beverly could say. "you may go, but return to me within an hour. i will then hear what you have to say." slowly, even humbly, the ruler of graustark and her cousin passed beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. he opened a door on the opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance thoroughly crestfallen. the steady features of the guard did not relax for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully. "come here, baldos," commanded beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her wits with admirable promptness. "this is a matter which i shall dispose of privately. it is to go no further, you are to understand." "yes, your highness." "you may go now. colonel quinnox will explain everything," she said hurriedly. she was eager to be rid of him. as he turned away she observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth. "come here, sir!" she exclaimed hotly. he paused, his face as sombre as an owl's. "what do you mean by laughing like that?" she demanded. he caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper interpretation. "laughing, your highness?" he said in deep surprise. "you must be mistaken. i am sure that i could not have laughed in the presence of a princess." "it must have been a--a shadow, then," she retracted, somewhat startled by his rejoinder. "very well, then; you are dismissed." as he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room, it swung wide and count marlanx strode in. baldos paused irresolutely, and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to the commander of the army. marlanx came to an amazed stop and his face flamed with resentment. "halt, sir!" he exclaimed harshly. "don't you know enough to salute me, sir?" baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. his eyes met those of the iron count and did not waver, although his face went white with passion. "and who are you, sir?" he asked in cold, steely tones. the count almost reeled. "your superior officer--that should be enough for you!" he half hissed with deadly levelness. "oh, then i see no reason why i should not salute you, sir," said baldos, with one of his rare smiles. he saluted his superior officer a shade too elaborately and turned away. marlanx's eyes glistened. "stop! have i said you could go, sir? i have a bit of advice to--" "my command to go comes from _your_ superior, sir," said baldos, with irritating blandness. "be patient, general," cried beverly in deep distress. "he does not know any better. i will stand sponsor for him." and baldos went away with a light step, his blood singing, his devil-may-care heart satisfied. the look in her eyes was very sustaining. as he left the castle he said aloud to himself with an easy disregard of the consequences: "well, it seems that i am to be associated with the devil as well as with angels. heavens! june is a glorious month." "now, you promised you'd be nice to him, general marlanx," cried beverly the instant baldos was out of the room. "he's new at this sort of thing, you know, and besides, you didn't address him very politely for an utter stranger." "the insolent dog," snarled marlanx, his self-control returning slowly. "he shall be taught well and thoroughly, never fear, miss calhoun. there is a way to train such recruits as he, and they never forget what they have learned." "oh, please don't be harsh with him," she pleaded. the smile of the iron count was not at all reassuring. "i know he will be sorry for what he has done, and you--" "i am quite sure he will be sorry," said he, with a most agreeable bow in submission to her appeal. "do you want to see mr. lorry?" she asked quickly. "i will send for him, general." she was at the door, impatient to be with the banished culprits. "my business with mr. lorry can wait," he began, with a smile meant to be inviting, but which did not impress her at all pleasantly. "well, anyway, i'll tell him you're here," she said, her hand on the door-knob. "will you wait here? good-bye!" and then she was racing off through the long halls and up broad stair-cases toward the boudoir of the princess. there is no telling how long the ruffled count remained in the ante-room, for the excited beverly forgot to tell lorry that he was there. there were half a dozen people in the room when beverly entered eagerly. she was panting with excitement. of all the rooms in the grim old castle, the boudoir of the princess was the most famously attractive. it was really her home, the exquisite abiding place of an exquisite creature. to lounge on her divans, to loll in the chairs, to glide through her priceless rugs was the acme of indolent pleasure. few were they who enjoyed the privileges of "little heaven," as harry anguish had christened it on one memorable night, long before the princess was mrs. grenfall lorry. "_now_, how do you feel?" cried the flushed american girl, pausing in the door to point an impressive finger at the princess, who was lying back in a huge chair, the picture of distress and annoyance. "i shall never be able to look that man in the face again," came dolefully from yetive's humbled lips. dagmar was all smiles and in the fittest of humors. she was the kind of a culprit who loves the punishment because of the crime. "wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely?" she cried. "it was extremely theatrical," agreed beverly, seating herself on the arm of yetive's chair and throwing a warm arm around her neck. "have you all heard about it?" she demanded, naively, turning to the others, who unquestionably had had a jumbled account of the performance. "you got just what you deserved," said lorry, who was immensely amused. "i wonder what your august vagabond thinks of his princess and her ladies-in-hiding?" mused harry anguish. the count and countess halfont were smiling in spite of the assault upon the dignity of the court. "i'd give anything to know what he really thinks," said the real princess. "oh, beverly, wasn't it awful? and how he marched us out of that room!" "i thought it was _great_," said beverly, her eyes glowing. "wasn't it splendid? and isn't he good looking?" "he is good looking, i imagine, but i am no judge, dear. it was utterly impossible for me to look at his face," lamented the princess. "what are you going to do with us?" asked dagmar penitently. "you are to spend the remainder of your life in a dungeon with baldos as guard," decided miss calhoun. "beverly, dear, that man is no ordinary person," said the princess, quite positively. "of course he isn't. he's a tall, dark mystery." "i observed him as he crossed the terrace this morning," said lorry. "he's a striking sort of chap, and i'll bet my head he's not what he claims to be." "he claims to be a fugitive, you must remember," said beverly, in his defense. "i mean that he is no common malefactor or whatever it may be. who and what do you suppose he is? i confess that i'm interested in the fellow and he looks as though one might like him without half trying. why haven't you dug up his past history, beverly? you are so keen about him." "he positively refuses to let me dig," explained beverly. "i tried, you know, but he--he--well, he squelched me." "well, after all is said and done, he caught us peeping to-day, and i am filled with shame," said the princess. "it doesn't matter who he is, he must certainly have a most unflattering opinion as to _what_ we are." "and he is sure to know us sooner or later," said the young countess, momentarily serious. "oh, if it ever comes to that i shall be in a splendid position to explain it all to him," said beverly. "don't you see, i'll have to do a lot of explaining myself?" "baron dangloss!" announced the guard of the upper hall, throwing open the door for the doughty little chief of police. "your highness sent for me?" asked he, advancing after the formal salutation. the princess exhibited genuine amazement. "i did, baron dangloss, but you must have come with the wings of an eagle. it is really not more than three minutes since i gave the order to colonel quinnox." the baron smiled mysteriously, but volunteered no solution. the truth is, he was entering the castle doors as the messenger left them, but he was much too fond of effect to spoil a good situation by explanations. it was a long two miles to his office in the tower. "something has just happened that impels me to ask a few questions concerning baldos, the new guard." "may i first ask what has happened?" dangloss was at a loss for the meaning of the general smile that went around. "it is quite personal and of no consequence. what do you know of him? my curiosity is aroused. now, be quiet, beverly; you are as eager to know as the rest of us." "well, your highness, i may as well confess that the man is a puzzle to me. he comes here a vagabond, but he certainly does not act like one. he admits that he is being hunted, but takes no one into his confidence. for that, he cannot be blamed." "have you any reason to suspect who he is?" asked lorry. "my instructions were to refrain from questioning him," complained dangloss, with a pathetic look at the original plotters. "still, i have made investigations along other lines." "and who is he?" cried beverly, eagerly. "i don't know," was the disappointing answer. "we are confronted by a queer set of circumstances. doubtless you all know that young prince dantan is flying from the wrath of his half-brother, our lamented friend gabriel. he is supposed to be in our hills with a half-starved body of followers. it seems impossible that he could have reached our northern boundaries without our outposts catching a glimpse of him at some time. the trouble is that his face is unknown to most of us, i among the others. i have been going on the presumption that baldos is in reality prince dantan. but last night the belief received a severe shock." "yes?" came from several eager lips. "my men who are watching the dawsbergen frontier came in last night and reported that dantan had been seen by mountaineers no later than sunday, three days ago. these mountaineers were in sympathy with him, and refused to tell whither he went. we only know that he was in the southern part of graustark three days ago. our new guard speaks many languages, but he has never been heard to use that of dawsbergen. that fact in itself is not surprising, for, of all things, he would avoid his mother tongue. dantan is part english by birth and wholly so by cultivation. in that he evidently finds a mate in this baldos." "then, he really isn't prince dantan?" cried beverly, as though a cherished ideal had been shattered. "not if we are to believe the tales from the south. here is another complication, however. there is, as you know, count halfont, and perhaps all of you, for that matter, a pretender to the throne of axphain, the fugitive prince frederic. he is described as young, good looking, a scholar and the next thing to a pauper." "baldos a mere pretender," cried beverly in real distress. "never!" "at any rate, he is not what he pretends to be," said the baron, with a wise smile. "then, you think he may be prince frederic?" asked lorry, deeply interested. "i am inclined to think so, although another complication has arisen. may it please your highness, i am in an amazingly tangled state of mind," admitted the baron, passing his hand over his brow. "do you mean that another mysterious prince has come to life?" asked yetive, her eyes sparkling with interest in the revelations. "early this morning a despatch came to me from the grand duke michael of rapp-thorberg, a duchy in western europe, informing me that the duke's eldest son had fled from home and is known to have come to the far east, possibly to graustark." "great scott!" exclaimed anguish. "it never rains but it hails, so here's hail to the princes three." "we are the mecca for runaway royalty, it seems," said count halfont. "go on with the story, baron dangloss," cried the princess. "it is like a book." "a description of the young man accompanies the offer of a large reward for information that may lead to his return home for reconciliation. and--" here the baron paused dramatically. "and what?" interjected beverly, who could not wait. "the description fits our friend baldos perfectly!" "you don't mean it?" exclaimed lorry. "then, he may be any one of the three you have mentioned?" "let me tell you what the grand duke's secretary says. i have the official notice, but left it in my desk. the runaway son of the grand duke is called christobal. he is twenty-seven years of age, speaks english fluently, besides french and our own language. it seems that he attended an english college with prince dantan and some of our own young men who are still in england. six weeks ago he disappeared from his father's home. at the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers left the grand duchy. the party was seen in vienna a week later, and the young duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his friend dantan in the fight for his throne. going on the theory that baldos is this same christobal, we have only to provide a reason for his preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. in the first place, he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears--our police. in the second place, he does not care to direct the attention of prince dantan's foes to himself. he missed dantan in the hills and doubtless was lost for weeks. but the true reason for his flight is made plain in the story that was printed recently in paris and berlin newspapers. according to them, christobal rebelled against his father's right to select a wife for him. the grand duke had chosen a noble and wealthy bride, and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower walks of life. father and son quarreled and neither would give an inch. christobal would not marry his father's choice, and the grand duke would not sanction his union with the fair plebeian." here beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing: "he doesn't look like the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't want to." "and he strikes me as the sort who would marry any one he set his heart upon having," added the princess, with a taunting glance at miss calhoun. "umph!" sniffed beverly defiantly. the baron went on with his narrative, exhibiting signs of excitement. "to lend color to the matter, christobal's sweetheart, the daughter of a game-warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. i know nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my understanding that christobal is not suspected. it is possible that he is ignorant even now of the girl's fate." "well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us," exclaimed lorry. "but, after all," ventured the countess halfont, "baldos may be none of these men." "good heavens, aunt yvonne, don't suggest anything so distressing," said yetive. "he _must_ be one of them." "i suggest a speedy way of determining the matter," said anguish. "let us send for baldos and ask him point blank who he is. i think it is up to him to clear away the mystery." "no!" cried beverly, starting to her feet. "it seems to be the only way," said lorry. "but i promised him that no questions should be asked," said beverly, almost tearfully but quite resolutely. "didn't i, yet--your highness?" "alas, yes!" said the princess, with a pathetic little smile of resignation, but with loyalty in the clasp of her hand. chapter xiv a visit and its consequences that same afternoon baldos, blissfully ignorant of the stir he had created in certain circles, rode out for the first time as a member of the castle guard. he and haddan were detailed by colonel quinnox to act as private escort to miss calhoun until otherwise ordered. if haddan thought himself wiser than baldos in knowing that their charge was not the princess, he was very much mistaken; if he enjoyed the trick that was being played on his fellow guardsman, his enjoyment was as nothing as compared to the pleasure baldos was deriving from the situation. the royal victoria was driven to the fortress, conveying the supposed princess and the countess dagmar to the home of count marlanx. the two guards rode bravely behind the equipage, resplendent in brilliant new uniforms. baldos was mildly surprised and puzzled by the homage paid the young american girl. it struck him as preposterous that the entire population of edelweiss could be in the game to deceive him. "who is the princess's companion?" he inquired of haddan, as they left the castle grounds. "the countess dagmar, cousin to her highness. she is the wife of mr. anguish." "i have seen her before," said baldos, a strange smile on his face. the countess dagmar found it difficult at first to meet the eye of the new guard, but he was so punctiliously oblivious that her courage was restored. she even went so far as to whisper in beverly's ear that he did not remember her face, and probably would not recognize yetive as one of the eavesdroppers. the princess had flatly refused to accompany them on the visit to the fortress because of baldos. struck by a sudden impulse, beverly called baldos to the side of the vehicle. "baldos, you behaved very nicely yesterday in exposing the duplicity of those young women," she said. "i am happy to have pleased your highness," he said steadily. "it may interest you to know that they ceased to be ladies-in-waiting after that exposure." "yes, your highness, it certainly is interesting," he said, as he fell back into position beside haddan. during the remainder of the ride he caught himself time after time gazing reflectively at the back of her proud little head, possessed of an almost uncontrollable desire to touch the soft brown hair. "you can't fool that excellent young man much longer, my dear," said the countess, recalling the look in his dark eyes. the same thought had been afflicting beverly with its probabilities for twenty-four hours and more. count marlanx welcomed his visitors with a graciousness that awoke wonder in the minds of his staff. his marked preference for the american girl did not escape attention. some of the bolder young officers indulged in surreptitious grimaces, and all looked with more or less compassion upon the happy-faced beauty from over the sea. marlanx surveyed baldos steadily and coldly, deep disapproval in his sinister eyes. he had not forgotten the encounter of the day before. "i see the favorite is on guard," he said blandly. "has he told you of the lesson in manners he enjoyed last night?" he was leading his guests toward the quarters, baldos and haddan following. the new guard could not help hearing the sarcastic remark. "you didn't have him beaten?" cried beverly, stopping short. "no, but i imagine it would have been preferable. i _talked_ with him for half an hour," said the general, laughing significantly. when the party stopped at the drinking-fountain in the center of the fort, baldos halted near by. his face was as impassive as marble, his eyes set straight before him, his figure erect and soldierly. an occasional sarcastic remark by the iron count, meant for his ears, made no impression upon the deadly composure of the new guard who had had his _lesson_. miss calhoun was conscious of a vague feeling that she had served baldos an ill-turn when she put him into this position. the count provided a light luncheon in his quarters after the ladies had gone over the fortress. beverly calhoun, with all of a woman's indifference to things material, could not but see how poorly equipped the fort was as compared to the ones she had seen in the united states. she and the countess visited the armory, the arsenal, and the repair shops before luncheon, reserving the pleasures of the clubhouse, the officers' quarters, and the parade-ground until afterwards. count marlanx's home was in the southeast corner of the enclosure, near the gates. several of the officers lunched with him and the young ladies. marlanx was assiduous in his attention to beverly calhoun--so much so, in fact, that the countess teased her afterwards about her conquest of the old and well-worn heart. beverly thought him extremely silly and sentimental, much preferring him in the character of the harsh, implacable martinet. at regular intervals she saw the straight, martial form of baldos pass the window near which she sat. he was patrolling the narrow piazza which fronted the house. toward the close of the rather trying luncheon she was almost unable to control the impulse to rush out and compel him to relax that imposing, machine-like stride. she hungered for a few minutes of the old-time freedom with him. the iron count was showing her some rare antique bronzes he had collected in the south. the luncheon was over and the countess had strolled off toward the bastions with the young officers, leaving beverly alone with the host. servants came in to clear the tables, but the count harshly ordered them to wait until the guests had departed. "it is the dearest thing i have seen," said beverly, holding a rare old candlestick at arm's length and looking at it in as many ways as the wrist could turn. her loose sleeves ended just below the elbows. the count's eyes followed the graceful curves of her white forearm with an eagerness that was annoying. "i prize it more dearly than any other piece in my collection," he said. "it came from rome; it has a history which i shall try to tell you some day, and which makes it almost invaluable. a german nobleman offered me a small fortune if i would part with it." "and you wouldn't sell it?" "i was saving it for an occasion, your highness," he said, his steely eyes glittering. "the glad hour has come when i can part with it for a recompense far greater than the baron's gold." "oh, isn't it lucky you kept it?" she cried. then she turned her eyes away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavoring to pierce through the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. outside the window the steady tramp of the tall guard went on monotonously. "the recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush and the unguarded thanks of a pretty woman. the candlestick is yours, miss calhoun,--if you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation." slowly beverly calhoun set the candlestick down upon the table her eyes meeting his with steady disdain. "what a rare old jester you are, count marlanx," she said without a smile. "if i thought you were in earnest i should scream with laughter. may i suggest that we join the countess? we must hurry along, you know. she and i have promised to play tennis with the princess at three o'clock." the count's glare of disappointment lasted but a moment. the diplomacy of egotism came to his relief, and he held back the gift for another day, but not for another woman. "it grieves me to have you hurry away. my afternoon is to be a dull one, unless you permit me to watch the tennis game," he said. "i thought you were interested only in the game of war," she said pointedly. "i stand in greater awe of a tennis ball than i do of a cannonball, if it is sent by such an arm as yours," and he not only laid his eyes but his hand upon her bare arm. she started as if something had stung her, and a cold shiver raced over her warm flesh. his eyes for the moment held her spellbound. he was drawing the hand to his lips when a shadow darkened the french window, and a saber rattled warningly. count marlanx looked up instantly, a scowl on his face. baldos stood at the window in an attitude of alert attention. beverly drew her arm away spasmodically and took a step toward the window. the guard saw by her eyes that she was frightened, but, if his heart beat violently, his face was the picture of military stoniness. "what are you doing there?" snarled the count. "did your highness call?" asked baldos coolly. "she did not call, fellow," said the count with deadly menace in his voice. "report to me in half an hour. you still have something to learn, i see." beverly was alarmed by the threat in his tones. she saw what was in store for baldos, for she knew quite as well as marlanx that the guard had deliberately intervened in her behalf. "he cannot come in half an hour," she cried quickly. "i have something for him to do, count marlanx. besides, i think i _did_ call." both men stared at her. "my ears are excellent," said marlanx stiffly. "i fancy baldos's must be even better, for he heard me," said beverly, herself once more. the shadow of a smile crossed the face of the guard. "he is impertinent, insolent, your highness. you will report to me tomorrow, sir, at nine o'clock in colonel quinnox's quarters. now, go!" commanded the count. "wait a minute, baldos. we are going out, too. will you open that window for me?" baldos gladly took it as a command and threw open the long french window. she gave him a grateful glance as she stepped through, and he could scarcely conceal the gleam of joy that shot into his own eyes. the dark scowl on the count's face made absolutely no impression upon him. he closed the window and followed ten paces behind the couple. "your guard is a priceless treasure," said the count grimly. "that's what you said about the candlestick," said she sweetly. she was disturbed by his threat to reprimand baldos. for some time her mind had been struggling with what the count had said about "the lesson." it grew upon her that her friend had been bullied and humiliated, perhaps in the presence of spectators. resentment fired her curiosity into action. while the general was explaining one of the new gun-carriages to the countess, beverly walked deliberately over to where baldos was standing. haddan's knowledge of english was exceedingly limited, and he could understand but little of the rapid conversation. standing squarely in front of baldos, she questioned him in low tones. "what did he mean when he said he had given you a lesson?" she demanded. his eyes gleamed merrily. "he meant to alarm your highness." "didn't he give you a talking to?" "he coached me in ethics." "you are evading the question, sir. was he mean and nasty to you? tell me; i want to know." "well, he said things that a soldier must endure. a civilian or an equal might have run him through for it, your highness." a flush rose to his cheeks and his lips quivered ever so slightly. but beverly saw and understood. her heart was in her eyes. "that settles it," she said rigidly. "you are not to report to him at nine tomorrow." "but he will have me shot, your highness," said he gladly. "he will do nothing of the kind. you are _my_ guard," and her eyes were gleaming dangerously. then she rejoined the group, the members of which had been watching her curiously. "count marlanx," she said, with entrancing dimples, "will you report to me at nine to-morrow morning?" "i have an appointment," he said slowly, but with understanding. "but you will break it, i am sure," she asserted confidently. "i want to give you a lesson in--in lawn tennis." later on, when the victoria was well away from the fort, dagmar took her companion to task for holding in public friendly discourse with a member of the guard, whoever he might be. "it is altogether contrary to custom, and--" but beverly put her hand over the critical lips and smiled like a guilty child. "now, don't scold," she pleaded, and the countess could go no further. the following morning count marlanx reported at nine o'clock with much better grace than he had suspected himself capable of exercising. what she taught him of tennis on the royal courts, in the presence of an amused audience, was as nothing to what he learned of strategy as it can be practiced by a whimsical girl. almost before he knew it she had won exemption for baldos, that being the stake for the first set of singles. to his credit, the count was game. he took the wager, knowing that he, in his ignorance, could not win from the blithe young expert in petticoats. then he offered to wager the brass candlestick against her bracelet. she considered for a moment and then, in a spirit of enthusiasm, accepted the proposition. after all, she coveted the candlestick. half an hour later an orderly was riding to the fort with instructions to return at once with miss calhoun's candlestick. it is on record that they were "love" sets, which goes to prove that beverly took no chances. count marlanx, puffing and perspiring, his joints dismayed and his brain confused, rode away at noon with baron dangloss. beverly, quite happy in her complete victory, enjoyed a nap of profound sweetness and then was ready for her walk with the princess. they were strolling leisurely about the beautiful grounds, safe in the shade of the trees from the heat of the july sun, when baron dangloss approached. "your royal highness," he began, with his fierce smile, "may i beg a moment's audience?" "it has to do with baldos, i'll take oath," said beverly, with conviction. "yes, with your guard. yesterday he visited the fortress. he went in an official capacity, it is true, but he was privileged to study the secrets of our defense with alarming freedom. it would not surprise me to find that this stranger has learned everything there is to know about the fort." his listeners were silent. the smiles left their faces. "i am not saying that he would betray us--" "no, no!" protested beverly. "--but he is in a position to give the most valuable information to an enemy. an officer has just informed me that baldos missed not a detail in regard to the armament, or the location of vital spots in the construction of the fortress." "but he wouldn't be so base as to use his knowledge to our undoing," cried yetive seriously. "we only know that he is not one of us. it is not beyond reason that his allegiance is to another power, dawsbergen, for instance. count marlanx is not at all in sympathy with him, you are aware. he is convinced that baldos is a man of consequence, possibly one of our bitterest enemies, and he hates him. for my own part, i may say that i like the man. i believe he is to be trusted, but if he be an agent of volga or gabriel, his opportunity has come. he is in a position to make accurate maps of the fort and of all our masked fortifications along the city walls." beyond a doubt, the baron was worried. "neither am i one of you," said beverly stoutly. "why shouldn't i prove to be a traitress?" "you have no quarrel with us, miss calhoun," said dangloss. "if anything happens, then, i am to be blamed for it," she cried in deep distress. "i brought him to edelweiss, and i believe in him." "for his own sake, your highness, and miss calhoun, i suggest that no opportunity should be given him to communicate with the outside world. we cannot accuse him, of course, but we can _protect_ him. i come to ask your permission to have him detailed for duty only in places where no suspicion can attach to any of his actions." "you mean inside the city walls?" asked yetive. "yes, your highness, and as far as possible from the fortress." "i think it is a wise precaution. don't be angry, beverly," the princess said gently. "it is for his own sake, you see. i am acting on the presumption that he is wholly innocent of any desire to betray us." "it would be easy for someone high in position to accuse and convict him," said dangloss meaningly. "and it would be just like someone, too," agreed beverly, her thoughts, with the others', going toward none but one man "high in power." later in the day she called baldos to her side as they were riding in the castle avenue. she was determined to try a little experiment of her own. "baldos, what do you think of the fortress?" she "i could overthrow it after half an hour's bombardment, your highness," he answered, without thinking. she started violently. "is it possible? are there so many weak points?" she went on, catching her breath. "there are three vital points of weakness, your highness. the magazine can be reached from the outside if one knows the lay of the land; the parade-ground exposes the ammunition building to certain disadvantages, and the big guns could be silenced in an hour if an enemy had the sense first to bombard from the elevation northeast of the city." "good heavens!" gasped poor beverly. "have you studied all this out?" "i was once a real soldier, your highness," he said, simply. "it was impossible for me not to see the defects in your fort." "you--you haven't told anyone of this, have you?" she cried, white-faced and anxious. "no one but your highness. you do not employ me as a tale-bearer, i trust." "i did not mean to question your honor," she said. "would you mind going before the heads of the war department and tell them just what you have told me? i mean about the weak spots." "if it is your command, your highness," he said quietly, but he was surprised. "you may expect to be summoned then, so hold yourself in readiness. and, baldos--" "yes, your highness?" "you need say nothing to them of our having talked the matter over beforehand--unless they pin you down to it, you know." chapter xv the testing of baldos a few hours later, all was dark and silent within the castle. on the stone walks below, the steady tread of sentinels rose on the still air; in the hallways the trusted guardsmen glided about like spectres or stood like statues. an hour before the great edifice had been bright and full of animation; now it slumbered. it was two o'clock. the breath of roses scented the air, the gurgle of fountains was the only music that touched the ear. beverly calhoun, dismissing aunt fanny, stepped from her window out upon the great stone balcony. a rich oriental dressing-gown, loose and comfortable, was her costume. something told her that sleep would be a long time coming, and an hour in the warm, delightful atmosphere of the night was more attractive than the close, sleepless silence of her own room. every window along the balcony was dark, proving that the entire household had retired to rest. she was troubled. the fear had entered her head that the castle folk were regretting the advent of baldos, that everyone was questioning the wisdom of his being in the position he occupied through her devices. her talk with him did much to upset her tranquillity. that he knew so much of the fortress bore out the subtle suspicions of dangloss and perhaps others. she was troubled, not that she doubted him, but that if anything went wrong an accusation against him, however unjust, would be difficult to overcome. and she would be to blame, in a large degree. for many minutes she sat in the dark shadow of a great pillar, her elbows upon the cool balustrade, staring dreamily into the star-studded vault above. far away in the air she could see the tiny yellow lights of the monastery, lonely sentinel on the mountain top. from the heights near that abode of peace and penitence an enemy could destroy the fortress to the south. had not baldos told her so? one big gun would do the work if it could be taken to that altitude. baldos could draw a perfect map of the fortress. he could tell precisely where the shells should fall. and already the chief men in edelweiss were wondering who he was and to what end he might utilize his knowledge. they were watching him, they were warning her. for the first time since she came to the castle, she felt a sense of loneliness, a certain unhappiness. she could not shake off the feeling that she was, after all, alone in her belief in baldos. her heart told her that the tall, straightforward fellow she had met in the hills was as honest as the day. she was deceiving him, she realized, but he was misleading no one. off in a distant part of the castle ground she could see the long square shadow that marked the location of the barracks and messroom. there he was sleeping, confidently believing in her and her power to save him from all harm. something in her soul cried out to him that she would be staunch and true, and that he might sleep without a tremor of apprehensiveness. suddenly she smiled nervously and drew back into the shadow of the pillar. it occurred to her that he might be looking across the moon-lit park, looking directly at her through all that shadowy distance. she was conscious of a strange glow in her cheeks and a quickening of the blood as she pulled the folds of her gown across her bare throat. "not the moon, nor the stars, nor the light in st. valentine's, but the black thing away off there on the earth," said a soft voice behind her, and beverly started as if the supernatural had approached her. she turned to face the princess, who stood almost at her side. "yetive! how did you get here?" "that is what you are looking at, dear," went on yetive, as if completing her charge. "why are you not in bed?" "and you? i thought you were sound asleep long ago," murmured beverly, abominating the guilty feeling that came over her. the princess threw her arm about beverly's shoulder. "i have been watching you for half an hour," she said gently. "can't two look at the moon and stars as well as one? isn't it my grim old castle? let us sit here together, dear, and dream awhile." "you dear yetive," and beverly drew her down beside her on the cushions. "but, listen: i want you to get something out of your head. i was _not_ looking at anything in particular." "beverly, i believe you were thinking of baldos," said the other, her fingers straying fondly across the girl's soft hair. "ridiculous!" said beverly, conscious for the first time that he was seldom out of her thoughts. the realization came like a blow, and her eyes grew very wide out there in the darkness. "and you are troubled on his account. i know it, dear. you--" "well, yetive, why shouldn't i be worried? i brought him here against his will," protested beverly. "if anything should happen to him--" she shuddered involuntarily. "don't be afraid, beverly. i have as much confidence in him as you have. his eyes are true. grenfall believes in him, too, and so does mr. anguish. gren says he would swear by him, no matter who he is." "but the others?" beverly whispered. "baron dangloss is his friend, and so is quinnox. they know a _man_. the count is different." "i loathe that old wretch!" "hush! he has not wronged you in any way." "but he _has_ been unfair and mean to baldos." "it is a soldier's lot, my dear." "but he may be prince dantan or frederic or the other one, don't you know," argued beverly, clenching her hands firmly. "in that event, he would be an honorable soldier, and we have nothing to fear in him. neither of them is our enemy. it is the possibility that he is not one of them that makes his presence here look dangerous." "i don't want to talk about him," said beverly, but she was disappointed when the princess obligingly changed the subject. baldos was not surprised, scarcely more than interested, when a day or two later, he was summoned to appear before the board of strategy. if anyone had told him, however, that on a recent night a pair of dreamy gray eyes had tried to find his window in the great black shadow, he might have jumped in amazement and--delight. for at that very hour he was looking off toward the castle, and his thoughts were of the girl who drew back into the shadow of the pillar. the graustark ministry had received news from the southern frontier. messengers came in with the alarming and significant report that dawsbergen was strengthening her fortifications in the passes and moving war supplies northward. it meant that gabriel and his people expected a fight and were preparing for it. count halfont hastily called the ministers together, and lorry and the princess took part in their deliberations. general marlanx represented the army; and it was he who finally asked to have baldos brought before the council. the iron count plainly intimated that the new guard was in a position to transmit valuable information to the enemy. colonel quinnox sent for him, and baldos was soon standing in the presence of yetive and her advisers. he looked about him with a singular smile. the one whom he was supposed to regard as the princess was not in the council chamber. lorry opened the examination at the request of count halfont, the premier. baldos quietly answered the questions concerning his present position, his age, his term of enlistment, and his interpretations of the obligations required of him. "ask him who he really is," suggested the iron count sarcastically. "we can expect but one answer to that question," said lorry, "and that is the one which he chooses to give." "my name is baldos--paul baldos," said the guard, but he said it in such a way that no one could mistake his appreciation of the fact that he could give one name as well as another and still serve his own purposes. "that is lie number one," observed marlanx loudly. every eye was turned upon baldos, but his face did not lose its half-mocking expression of serenity. "proceed with the examination, mr. lorry" said count halfont, interpreting a quick glance from yetive. "are you willing to answer any and all questions we may ask in connection with your observations since you became a member of the castle guard?" asked lorry. "i am." "did you take especial care to study the interior of the fortress when you were there several days ago?" "i did." "have you discussed your observations with anyone since that time?" "i have." "with whom?" "with her highness, the princess," said baldos, without a quiver. there was a moment's silence, and furtive looks were cast in the direction of yetive, whose face was a study. almost instantaneously the entire body of listeners understood that he referred to beverly calhoun. baldos felt that he had been summoned before the board at the instigation of his fair protectress. "and your impressions have gone no further?" "they have not, sir. it was most confidential." "could you accurately reproduce the plans of the fortress?" "i think so. it would be very simple." "have you studied engineering?" "yes." "and you could scientifically enumerate the defects in the construction of the fort?" "it would not be very difficult, sir." "it has come to our ears that you consider the fortress weak in several particulars. have you so stated at any time?" "i told the princess that the fortress is deplorably weak. in fact, i think i mentioned that it could be taken with ease." he was not looking at count marlanx, but he knew that the old man's eyes were flaming. then he proceeded to tell the board how he could overcome the fortress, elaborating on his remarks to beverly. the ministers listened in wonder to the words of this calm, indifferent young man. "will you oblige us by making a rough draft of the fort's interior?" asked lorry, after a solemn pause. baldos took the paper and in remarkably quick time drew the exact lay of the fortress. the sketch went the rounds and apprehensive looks were exchanged by the ministers. "it is accurate, by jove," exclaimed lorry. "i doubt if a dweller in the fort could do better. you must have been very observing." "and very much interested," snarled marlanx. "only so far as i imagined my observations might be of benefit to someone else," said baldos coolly. again the silence was like death. "do you know what you are saying, baldos?" asked lorry, after a moment. "certainly, mr. lorry. it is the duty of any servant of her highness to give her all that he has in him. if my observations can be of help to her, i feel in duty bound to make the best of them for her sake, not for my own." "perhaps you can suggest modifications in the fort," snarled marlanx. "why don't you do it, sir, and let us have the benefit of your superior intelligence? no, gentlemen, all this prating of loyalty need not deceive us," he cried, springing to his feet. "the fellow is nothing more nor less than an infernal spy--and the tower is the place for him! he can do no harm there." "if it were my intention to do harm, gentlemen, do you imagine that i should withhold my information for days?" asked baldos. "if i am a spy, you may rest assured that count marlanx's kindnesses should not have been so long disregarded. a spy does not believe in delays." "my--my kindnesses?" cried marlanx. "what do you mean, sir?" "i mean this. count marlanx," said baldos, looking steadily into the eyes of the head of the army. "it was kind and considerate of you to admit me to the fortress--no matter in what capacity, especially at a critical time like this. you did not know me, you had no way of telling whether my intentions were honest or otherwise, and yet i was permitted to go through the fort from end to end. no spy could wish for greater generosity than that." an almost imperceptible smile went round the table, and every listener but one breathed more freely. the candor and boldness of the guard won the respect and confidence of all except marlanx. the iron count was white with anger. he took the examination out of lorry's hands, and plied the stranger with insulting questions, each calm answer making him more furious than before. at last, in sheer impotence, he relapsed into silence, waving his hand to lorry to indicate that he might resume. "you will understand, baldos, that we have some cause for apprehension," said lorry, immensely gratified by the outcome of the tilt. "you are a stranger; and, whether you admit it or not, there is reason to believe that you are not what you represent yourself to be." "i am a humble guard at present, sir, and a loyal one. my life is yours should i prove otherwise." yetive whispered something in lorry's ear at this juncture. she was visibly pleased and excited. he looked doubtful for an instant, and then apparently followed her suggestion, regardless of consequences. "would you be willing to utilize your knowledge as an engineer by suggesting means to strengthen the fortress?" the others stared in fresh amazement. marlanx went as white as death. "never!" he blurted out hoarsely. "i will do anything the princess commands me to do," said baldos easily. "you mean that you serve her only?" "i serve her first, sir. if she were here she could command me to die, and there would be an end to baldos," and he smiled as he said it. the real princess looked at him with a new, eager expression, as if something had just become clear to her. there was a chorus of coughs and a round of sly looks. "she could hardly ask you to die," said yetive, addressing him for the first time. "a princess is like april weather, madam," said baldos, with rare humor, and the laugh was general, yetive resolved to talk privately with this excellent wit before the hour was over. she was confident that he knew her to be the princess. "i would like to ask the fellow another question," said marlanx, fingering his sword-hilt nervously. "you say you serve the princess. do you mean by that that you imagine your duties as a soldier to comprise dancing polite attendance within the security of these walls?" "i believe i enlisted as a member of the castle guard, sir. the duty of the guard is to protect the person of the ruler of graustark, and to do that to the death." "it is my belief that you are a spy. you can show evidence of good faith by enlisting to _fight_ against dawsbergen and by shooting to kill," said the count, with a sinister gleam in his eye. "and if i decline to serve in any other capacity than the one i now--" "then i shall brand you as a spy and a coward." "you have already called me a spy, your excellency. it will not make it true, let me add, if you call me a coward. i refuse to take up arms against either dawsbergen or axphain." the remark created a profound sensation. "then you are employed by both instead of one!" shouted the iron count gleefully. "i am employed as a guard for her royal highness," said baldos, with a square glance at yetive, "and not as a fighter in the ranks. i will fight till death for her, but not for graustark." chapter xvi on the way to st. valentine's "by jove, i like that fellow's coolness," said lorry to harry anguish, after the meeting. "he's after my own heart. why, he treats us as though we were the suppliants, he the alms-giver. he is playing a game, i'll admit, but he does it with an assurance that delights me." "he is right about that darned old fort," said anguish. "his knowledge of such things proves conclusively that he is no ordinary person." "yetive had a bit of a talk with him just now," said lorry, with a reflective smile. "she asked him point blank if he knew who she was. he did not hesitate a second. 'i remember seeing you in the audience chamber recently.' that was a facer for yetive. 'i assure you that it was no fault of mine that you saw me,' she replied. 'then it must have been your friend who rustled the curtains?' said the confounded bluffer. yetive couldn't keep a straight face. she laughed and then he laughed. 'some day you may learn more about me,' she said to him. 'i sincerely trust that i may, madam,' said he, and i'll bet my hat he was enjoying it better than either of us. of course, he knows yetive is the princess. it's his intention to serve beverly calhoun, and he couldn't do it if he were to confess that he knows the truth. he's no fool." baldos was not long in preparing plans for the changes in the fortress. they embodied a temporary readjustment of the armament and alterations in the ammunition house. the gate leading to the river was closed and the refuse from the fort was taken to the barges by way of the main entrance. there were other changes suggested for immediate consideration, and then there was a general plan for the modernizing of the fortress at some more convenient time. baldos laconically observed that the equipment was years behind the times. to the amazement of the officials, he was able to talk intelligently of forts in all parts of the world, revealing a wide and thorough knowledge and extensive inspection. he had seen american as well as european fortifications. the graustark engineers went to work at once to perfect the simple changes he advised, leaving no stone unturned to strengthen the place before an attack could be made. two, three weeks went by and the new guard was becoming an old story to the castle and army folk. he rode with beverly every fair day and he looked at her window by night from afar off in the sombre barracks. she could not dissipate the feeling that he knew her to be other than the princess, although he betrayed himself by no word or sign. she was enjoying the fun of it too intensely to expose it to the risk of destruction by revealing her true identity to him. logically, that would mean the end of everything. no doubt he felt the same and kept his counsel. but the game could not last forever, that was certain. a month or two more, and beverly would have to think of the return to washington. his courage, his cool impudence, his subtle wit charmed her more than she could express. now she was beginning to study him from a standpoint peculiarly and selfishly her own. where recently she had sung his praises to yetive and others, she now was strangely reticent. she was to understand another day why this change had come over her. stories of his cleverness came to her ears from lorry and anguish and even from dangloss. she was proud, vastly proud of him in these days. the iron count alone discredited the ability and the conscientiousness of the "mountebank," as he named the man who had put his nose out of joint. beverly, seeing much of marlanx, made the mistake of chiding him frankly and gaily about this aversion. she even argued the guard's case before the head of the army, imprudently pointing out many of his superior qualities in advocating his cause. the count was learning forbearance in his old age. he saw the wisdom of procrastination. baldos was in favor, but someday there would come a time for his undoing. in the barracks he was acquiring fame. reports went forth with unbiased freedom. he established himself as the best swordsman in the service, as well as the most efficient marksman. with the foils and sabers he easily vanquished the foremost fencers in high and low circles. he could ride like a cossack or like an american cowboy. of them all, his warmest admirer was haddan, the man set to watch him for the secret service. it may be timely to state that haddan watched in vain. the princess, humoring her own fancy as well as beverly's foibles, took to riding with her high-spirited young guest on many a little jaunt to the hills. she usually rode with lorry or anguish, cheerfully assuming the subdued position befitting a lady-in-waiting apparently restored to favor on probation. she enjoyed beverly's unique position. in order to maintain her attitude as princess, the fair young deceiver was obliged to pose in the extremely delectable attitude of being lorry's wife. "how can you expect the paragon to make love to you, dear, if he thinks you are another man's wife?" yetive asked, her blue eyes beaming with the fun of it all. "pooh!" sniffed beverly. "you have only to consult history to find the excuse. it's the dear old habit of men to make love to queens and get beheaded for it. besides, he is not expected to make love to me. how in the world did you get that into your head?" on a day soon after the return of lorry and anguish from a trip to the frontier, beverly expressed a desire to visit the monastery of st. valentine, high on the mountain top. it was a long ride over the circuitous route by which the steep incline was avoided and it was necessary for the party to make an early start. yetive rode with harry anguish and his wife the countess, while beverly's companion was the gallant colonel quinnox. baldos, relegated to the background, brought up the rear with haddan. for a week or more beverly had been behaving toward baldos in the most cavalier fashion. her friends had been teasing her; and, to her own intense amazement, she resented it. the fact that she felt the sting of their sly taunts was sufficient to arouse in her the distressing conviction that he had become important enough to prove embarrassing. while confessing to herself that it was a bit treacherous and weak, she proceeded to ignore baldos with astonishing persistency. apart from the teasing, it seemed to her of late that he was growing a shade too confident. he occasionally forgot his differential air, and relaxed into a very pleasing but highly reprehensible state of friendliness. a touch of the old jauntiness cropped out here and there, a tinge of the old irony marred his otherwise perfect mien as a soldier. his laugh was freer, his eyes less under subjugation, his entire personality more arrogant. it was time, thought she resentfully, that his temerity should meet some sort of check. and, moreover, she had dreamed of him two nights in succession. how well her plan succeeded may best be illustrated by saying that she now was in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. baldos refused to be properly depressed by his misfortune. he retired to the oblivion she provided and seemed disagreeably content. apparently, it made very little difference to him whether he was in or out of favor. beverly was in high dudgeon and low spirits. the party rode forth at an early hour in the morning. it was hot in the city, but it looked cold and bleak on the heights. comfortable wraps were taken along, and provision was made for luncheon at an inn half way up the slope. quinnox regaled beverly with stories in which grenfall lorry was the hero and yetive the heroine. he told her of the days when lorry, a fugitive with a price upon his head, charged with the assassination of prince lorenz, then betrothed to the princess, lay hidden in the monastery while yetive's own soldiers hunted high and low for him. the narrator dwelt glowingly upon the trip from the monastery to the city walls one dark night when lorry came down to surrender himself in order to shield the woman he loved, and quinnox himself piloted him through the underground passage into the very heart of the castle. then came the exciting scene in which lorry presented himself as a prisoner, with the denouement that saved the princess and won for the gallant american the desire of his heart. "what a brave fellow he was!" cried beverly, who never tired of hearing the romantic story. "ah, he was wonderful, miss calhoun. i fought him to keep him from surrendering. he beat me, and i was virtually his prisoner when we appeared before the tribunal." "it's no wonder she loved him and--married him." "he deserved the best that life could give, miss calhoun." "you had better not call me miss calhoun, colonel quinnox," said she, looking back apprehensively. "i am a highness once in a while, don't you know?" "i implore your highness's pardon!" said he gaily. the riders ahead had come to a standstill and were pointing off into the pass to their right. they were eight or ten miles from the city gates and more than half way up the winding road that ended at the monastery gates. beverly and quinnox came up with them and found all eyes centered on a small company of men encamped in the rocky defile a hundred yards from the main road. it needed but a glance to tell her who comprised the unusual company. the very raggedness of their garments, the unforgetable disregard for consequences, the impudent ease with which they faced poverty and wealth alike, belonged to but one set of men--the vagabonds of the hawk and raven. beverly went a shade whiter; her interest in everything else flagged, and she was lost in bewilderment. what freak of fortune had sent these men out of the fastnesses into this dangerously open place? she recognized the ascetic ravone, with his student's face and beggar's garb. old franz was there, and so were others whose faces and heterogeneous garments had become so familiar to her in another day. the tall leader with the red feather, the rakish hat and the black patch alone was missing; from the picture. "it's the strangest-looking crew i've ever seen," said anguish. "they look like pirates." "or gypsies" suggested yetive. "who are they, colonel quinnox? what are they doing here?" quinnox was surveying the vagabonds with a critical, suspicious eye. "they are not robbers or they would be off like rabbits" he said reflectively. "your highness, there are many roving bands in the hills, but i confess that these men are unlike any i have heard about. with your permission, i will ride down and question them." "do, quinnox. i am most curious." beverly sat very still and tense. she was afraid to look at baldos, who rode up as quinnox started into the narrow defile, calling to the escort to follow. the keen eyes of the guard caught the situation at once. miss calhoun shot a quick glance at him as he rode up beside her. his face was impassive, but she could see his hand clench the bridle-rein, and there was an air of restraint in his whole bearing. "remember your promise," he whispered hoarsely. "no harm must come to them." then he was off into the defile. anguish was not to be left behind. he followed, and then beverly, more venturesome and vastly more interested than the others, rode recklessly after. quinnox was questioning the laconic ravone when she drew rein. the vagabonds seemed to evince but little interest in the proceedings. they stood away in disdainful aloofness. no sign of recognition passed between them and baldos. in broken, jerky sentences, ravone explained to the colonel that they were a party of actors on their way to edelweiss, but that they had been advised to give the place a wide berth. now they were making the best of a hard journey to serros, where they expected but little better success. he produced certain papers of identification which quinnox examined and approved, much to beverly's secret amazement. the princess and the colonel exchanged glances and afterwards a few words in subdued tones. yetive looked furtively at beverly and then at baldos as if to enquire whether these men were the goat-hunters she had come to know by word of mouth. the two faces were hopelessly non-committal. suddenly baldos's horse reared and began to plunge as if in terror, so that the rider kept his seat only by means of adept horsemanship. ravone leaped forward and at the risk of injury clutched the plunging steed by the bit. together they partially subdued the animal and baldos swung to the ground at ravone's side. miss calhoun's horse in the meantime had caught the fever. he pranced off to the roadside before she could get him under control. she was thus in a position to observe the two men on the ground. shielded from view by the body of the horse, they were able to put the finishing touches to the trick baldos had cleverly worked. beverly distinctly saw the guard and the beggar exchange bits of paper, with glances that meant more than the words they were unable to utter. baldos pressed into ravone's hand a note of some bulk and received in exchange a mere slip of paper. the papers disappeared as if by magic, and the guard was remounting his horse before he saw that the act had been detected. the expression of pain and despair in beverly's face sent a cold chill over him from head to foot. she turned sick with apprehension. her faith had received a stunning blow. mutely she watched the vagabonds withdraw in peace, free to go where they pleased. the excursionists turned to the main road. baldos fell back to his accustomed place, his imploring look wasted. she was strangely, inexplicably depressed for the rest of the day. chapter xvii a note translated she was torn by conflicting emotions. that the two friends had surreptitiously exchanged messages, doubtless by an arrangement perfected since he had entered the service--possibly within the week--could not be disputed. when and how had they planned the accidental meeting? what had been their method of communication? and, above all, what were the contents of the messages exchanged? were they of a purely personal nature, or did they comprehend injury to the principality of graustark? beverly could not, in her heart, feel that baldos was doing anything inimical to the country he served, and yet her duty and loyalty to yetive made it imperative that the transaction should be reported at once. a word to quinnox and ravone would be seized and searched for the mysterious paper. this, however, looked utterly unreasonable, for the vagabonds were armed and in force, while yetive was accompanied by but three men who could be depended upon. baldos, under the conditions, was not to be reckoned upon for support. on the other hand, if he meant no harm, it would be cruel, even fatal, to expose him to this charge of duplicity. and while she turned these troublesome alternatives over in her mind, the opportunity to act was lost. ravone and his men were gone, and the harm, if any was intended, was done. from time to time she glanced back at the guard. his face was imperturbable, even sphinx-like in its steadiness. she decided to hold him personally to account. at the earliest available moment she would demand an explanation of his conduct, threatening him if necessary. if he proved obdurate there was but one course left open to her. she would deliver him up to the justice he had outraged. hour after hour went by, and beverly suffered more than she could have told. the damage was done, and the chance to undo it was slipping farther and farther out of her grasp. she began to look upon herself as the vilest of traitors. there was no silver among the clouds that marred her thoughts that afternoon. it was late in the day when the party returned to the castle, tired out. beverly was the only one who had no longing to seek repose after the fatiguing trip. her mind was full of unrest. it was necessary to question baldos at once. there could be no peace for her until she learned the truth from him. the strain became so great that at last she sent word for him to attend her in the park. he was to accompany the men who carried the sedan chair in which she had learned to sit with a delightful feeling of being in the eighteenth century. in a far corner of the grounds, now gray in the early dusk, beverly bade the bearers to set down her chair and leave her in quiet for a few minutes. the two men withdrew to a respectful distance, whereupon she called baldos to her side. her face was flushed with anxiety. "you must tell me the truth about that transaction with ravone," she said, coming straight to the point. "i was expecting this, your highness," said he quietly. the shadows of night were falling, but she could distinguish the look of anxiety in his dark eyes. "well?" she insisted impatiently. "you saw the notes exchanged?" "yes, yes, and i command you to tell me what they contained. it was the most daring thing i--" "you highness, i cannot tell you what passed between us. it would be treacherous," he said firmly. beverly gasped in sheer amazement. "treacherous? good heaven, sir, to whom do you owe allegiance--to me or to ravone and that band of tramps?" she cried, with eyes afire. "to both, your highness," he answered so fairly that she was for the moment abashed. "i am loyal to you--loyal to the heart's core, and yet i am loyal to that unhappy band of tramps, as you choose to call them. they are my friends. you are only my sovereign." "and you won't tell me what passed between you?" she said, angered by this epigrammatic remark. "i cannot and be true to myself." "oh? you are a glorious soldier," she exclaimed, with fierce sarcasm in her voice. "you speak of being true! i surprise you in the very act of--" "stay, your highness!" he said coldly. "you are about to call me a spy and a traitor. spare me, i implore you, that humiliation. i have sworn to serve you faithfully and loyally. i have not deceived you, and i shall not. paul baldos has wronged no man, no woman. what passed between ravone and myself concerns us only. it had nothing to do with the affairs of graustark." "of course you would say that. you wouldn't be fool enough to tell the truth," cried she hotly. "i am the fool! i have trusted you and if anything goes wrong i alone am to blame for exposing poor graustark to danger. oh, why didn't i cry out this afternoon?" "i knew you would not," he said, with cool unconcern. "insolence! what do you mean by that?" she cried in confusion. "in your heart you knew i was doing no wrong. you shielded me then as you have shielded me from the beginning." "i don't see why i sit here and let you talk to me like that," she said, feeling the symptoms of collapse. "you have not been fair with me, baldos. you are laughing at me now and calling me a witless little fool. you--you did something to-day that shakes my faith to the very bottom. i never can trust you again. good heaven, i hate to confess to--to everyone that you are not honest." "your highness!" he implored, coming close to the chair and bending over her. "before god, i am honest with you. believe me when i say that i have done nothing to injure graustark. i cannot tell you what it was that passed between ravone and me, but i swear on my soul that i have not been disloyal to my oath. won't you trust me? won't you believe?" his breath was fanning her ear, his voice was eager; she could feel the intensity of his eyes. "oh, i don't--don't know what to say to you," she murmured. "i have been so wrought up with fear and disappointment. you'll admit that it was very suspicious, won't you?" she cried, almost pleadingly. "yes, yes," he answered. his hand touched her arm, perhaps unconsciously. she threw back her head to give him a look of rebuke. their eyes met, and after a moment both were full of pleading. her lips parted, but the words would not come. she was afterwards more than thankful for this, because his eyes impelled her to give voice to amazing things that suddenly rushed to her head. "i want to believe you," she whispered softly. "you must--you do! i would give you my life. you have it now. it is in your keeping, and with it my honor. trust me, i beseech you. i have trusted you." "i brought you here--" she began, defending him involuntarily. "but, baldos, you forget that i am the princess!" she drew away in sudden shyness, her cheeks rosy once more, her eyes filling with the most distressingly unreasonable tears. he did not move for what seemed hours to her. she heard the sharp catch of his breath and felt the repression that was mastering some unwelcome emotion in him. lights were springing into existence in all parts of the park. beverly saw the solitary window in the monastery far away, and her eyes fastened on it as if for sustenance in this crisis of her life--this moment of surprise--this moment when she felt him laying hands upon the heart she had not suspected of treason. twilight was upon them; the sun had set and night was rushing up to lend unfair advantage to the forces against which they were struggling. the orchestra in the castle was playing something soft and tender--oh, so far away. "i forget that i am a slave, your highness," he said at last, and his voice thrilled her through and through. she turned quickly and to her utter dismay found his face and eyes still close to hers, glowing in the darkness. "those men--over there," she whispered helplessly. "they are looking at you!" "now, i thank god eternally," he cried softly, "you do not punish me, you do not rebuke me. god, there is no night!" "you--you must not talk like that," she cried, pulling herself together suddenly. "i cannot permit it, baldos. you forget who you are, sir." "ah, yes, your highness," he said, before he stood erect. "i forget that i was a suspected traitor. now i am guilty of _lese majeste."_ beverly felt herself grow hot with confusion. "what am i to do with you?" she cried in perplexity, her heart beating shamefully. "you swear you are honest, and yet you won't tell me the truth. now, don't stand like that! you are as straight as a ramrod, and i know your dignity is terribly offended. i may be foolish, but i _do_ believe you intend no harm to graustark. you _cannot_ be a traitor." "i will some day give my life to repay you for those words, your highness," he said. her hand was resting on the side of the chair. something warm touched it, and then it was lifted resistlessly. hot, passionate lips burned themselves into the white fingers, and a glow went into every fiber of her body. "oh!" was all she could say. he gently released the hand and threw up his chin resolutely. "i am _almost_ ready to die," he said. she laughed for the first time since they entered the park. "i don't know how to treat you," she said in a helpless flutter. "you know a princess has many trials in life." "not the least of which is womanhood." "baldos," she said after a long pause. something very disagreeable had just rushed into her brain. "have you been forgetting all this time that the princess yetive is the wife of grenfall lorry?" "it has never left my mind for an instant. from the bottom of my heart i congratulate him. his wife is an angel as well as a princess." "well, in the code of morals, is it quite proper to be so _loyal_ to another man's wife?" she asked, and then she trembled. he was supposed to know her as the wife of grenfall lorry, and yet he had boldly shown his love for her. "it depends altogether on the other man's wife," he said, and she looked up quickly. it was too dark to see his face, but something told her to press the point no further. deep down in her heart she was beginning to rejoice in the belief that he had found her out. if he still believed her to be the real princess, then he was--but the subject of conversation, at least, had to be changed. "you say your message to ravone was of a purely personal nature," she said. "yes, your highness." she did not like the way in which he said "your highness." it sounded as if he meant it. "how did you know that you were to see him to-day?" "we have waited for this opportunity since last week. franz was in the castle grounds last thursday." "good heavens! you don't mean it!" "yes, your highness. he carried a message to me from ravone. that is why ravone and the others waited for me in the hills." "you amaze me!" "i have seen franz often," he confessed easily. "he is an excellent messenger." "so it would seem. we must keep a lookout for him. he is the go-between for you all, i see." "did you learn to say 'you all' in america?" he asked. her heart gave a great leap. there was something so subtle in the query that she was vastly relieved. "never mind about that, sir. you won't tell me what you said in your note to ravone." "i cannot." "well, he gave you one in return. if you are perfectly sincere, baldos, you will hand that note over to me. it shall go no farther, i swear to you, if, as you vow, it does not jeopardize graustark. now, sir, prove your loyalty and your honesty." he hesitated for a long time. then from an inner pocket he drew forth a bit of paper. "i don't see why it has not been destroyed," he said regretfully. "what a neglectful fool i have been!" "you might have said it had been destroyed," she said, happy because he had not said it. "but that would have been a lie. read it, your highness, and return it to me. it must be destroyed." "it is too dark to read it here." without a word he handed the paper to her and called the chair bearers, to whom he gave instructions that brought her speedily beneath one of the park lamps. she afterwards recalled the guilty impulse which forced her to sit on the tell-tale note while the men were carrying her along in the driveway. when it was quite safe she slyly opened the missive. his hand closed over hers, and the note, and he bent close once more. "my only fear is that the test will make it impossible for me to kiss your hand again," said he in a strained voice. she looked up in surprise. "then it is really something disloyal?" "i have called it a test, your highness," he responded enigmatically. "well, we'll see," she said, and forthwith turned her eyes to the all-important paper. a quick flush crossed her brow; her eyes blinked hopelessly. the note was written in the graustark language! "i'll read it later, baldos. this is no place for me to be reading notes, don't you know? really, it isn't. i'll give it back to you to-morrow," she was in haste to say. an inscrutable smile came over his face. "ravone's information is correct, i am now convinced," he said slowly. "pray, your highness, glance over it now, that i may destroy it at once," he persisted. "the light isn't good." "it seems excellent." "and i never saw such a miserable scrawl as this. he must have written it on horseback and at full gallop." "it is quite legible, your highness." "i really cannot read the stuff. you know his handwriting. read it to me. i'll trust you to read it carefully." "this is embarrassing, your highness, but i obey, of course, if you command. here is what ravone says: "'we have fresh proof that she is not the princess, but the american girl. be exceedingly careful that she does not lead you into any admissions. the americans are tricky. have little to say to her, and guard your tongue well. we are all well and are hoping for the best.'" chapter xviii confessions and concessions beverly was speechless. "of course, your highness," said baldos, deep apology in his voice, "ravone is woefully misinformed. he is honest in his belief, and you should not misjudge his motives. how he could have been so blind as to confound you with that frisky american girl--but i beg your pardon. she is to be your guest. a thousand pardons, your highness." she had been struck dumb by the wording of the note, but his apparently sincere apology for his friend set her every emotion into play once more. while he was speaking, her wits were forming themselves for conflict. she opened the campaign with a bold attack. "you--you believe me to be the princess, sure 'nough, don't you?" but with all her bravery, she was not able to look him in the face. "how can you doubt it, your highness? would i be serving you in the present capacity if i believed you to be anyone else?" "ravone's warning has not shaken your faith in me?" "it has strengthened it. nothing could alter the facts in the case. i have not, since we left ganlook, been in doubt as to the identity of my benefactress." "it seems to me that you are beating around the bush. i'll come straight to the point. how long have you known that i am not the princess of graustark?" "what!" he exclaimed, drawing back in well-assumed horror. "do you mean--are you jesting? i beg of you, do not jest. it is very serious with me." his alarm was so genuine that she was completely deceived. "i am not jesting," she half whispered, turning very cold. "have you thought all along that i am the princess--that i am grenfall lorry's wife?" "you told me that you were the princess." "but i've never said that i was--was anyone's wife." there was a piteous appeal in her voice and he was not slow to notice it and rejoice. then his heart smote him. "but what is to become of me if you are not the princess?" he asked after a long pause. "i can no longer serve you. this is my last day in the castle guard." "you are to go on serving me--i mean you are to retain your place in the service," she hastened to say. "i shall keep my promise to you." how small and humble she was beginning to feel. it did not seem so entertaining, after all, this pretty deception of hers. down in his heart, underneath the gallant exterior, what was his opinion of her? something was stinging her eyes fiercely, and she closed them to keep back the tears of mortification. "miss calhoun," he said, his manner changing swiftly, "i have felt from the first that you are not the princess of graustark. i _knew_ it an hour after i entered edelweiss. franz gave me a note at ganlook, but i did not read it until i was a member of the guard." "you have known it so long?" she cried joyously. "and you have trusted me? you have not hated me for deceiving you?" "i have never ceased to regard you as _my_ sovereign," he said softly. "but just a moment ago you spoke of me as a frisky american girl," she said resentfully. "i have used that term but once, while i have said 'your highness' a thousand times. knowing that you were miss calhoun, i could not have meant either." "i fancy i have no right to criticise you," she humbly admitted. "after all, it does not surprise me that you were not deceived. only an imbecile could have been fooled all these weeks. everyone said that you were no fool. it seems ridiculous that it should have gone to this length, doesn't it?" "not at all, your highness. i am not--" "you have the habit, i see," she smiled. "i have several months yet to serve as a member of the guard. besides, i am under orders to regard you as the princess. general marlanx has given me severe instructions in that respect." "you are willing to play the game to the end?" she demanded, more gratified than she should have been. "assuredly, yes. it is the only safeguard i have. to alter my belief publicly would expose me to--to--" "to what, baldos?" "to ridicule, for one thing, and to the generous mercies of count marlanx. besides, it would deprive me of the privilege i mentioned a moment ago--the right to kiss your hand, to be your slave and to do homage to the only sovereign i can recognize. surely, you will not subject me to exile from the only joys that life holds for me. you have sought to deceive me, and i have tried to deceive you. each has found the other out, so we are quits. may we not now combine forces in the very laudible effort to deceive the world? if the world doesn't know that we know, why, the comedy may be long drawn out and the climax be made the more amusing." "i'm afraid there was a touch of your old-time sarcasm in that remark," she said. "yes, i am willing to continue the comedy. it seems the safest way to protect you--especially from general marlanx. no one must ever know, baldos; it would be absolutely pitiful. i am glad, oh, so glad, that you have known all the time. it relieves my mind and my conscience tremendously." "yes," he said gently; "i have known all along that you were not mr. lorry's wife." he had divined her thought and she flushed hotly. "you are still a princess, however. a poor goat-hunter can only look upon the rich american girl as a sovereign whom he must worship from far below." "oh, i'm not so rich as all that," she cried. "besides, i think it is time for a general clearing-up of the mysteries. are you prince dantan, prince frederic, or that other one--christobal somebody? come, be fair with me." "it seems that all edelweiss looks upon me as a prince in disguise. you found me in the hills--" "no; you found me. i have not forgotten, sir." "i was a vagabond and a fugitive. my friends are hunted as i am. we have no home. why everyone should suspect me of being a prince i cannot understand. every roamer in the hills is not a prince. there is a price upon my head, and there is a reward for the capture of every man who was with me in the pass. my name is paul baldos, miss calhoun. there is no mystery in that. if you were to mention it in a certain city, you would quickly find that the name of baldos is not unknown to the people who are searching for him. no, your highness, i regret exceedingly that i must destroy the absurd impression that i am of royal blood. perhaps i am spoiling a pretty romance, but it cannot be helped. i was baldos, the goat-hunter; i am now baldos, the guard. do you think that i would be serving as a graustark guard if i were any one of the men you mention?" beverly listened in wonder and some disappointment, it must be confessed. somehow a spark of hope was being forever extinguished by this straightforward denial. he was not to be the prince she had seen in dreams. "you are not like anyone else," she said. "that is why we thought of you as--as--as--" "as one of those unhappy creatures they call princes? thank fortune, your highness, i am not yet reduced to such straits. my exile will come only when you send me away." they were silent for a long time. neither was thinking of the hour, or the fact that her absence in the castle could not be unnoticed. night had fallen heavily upon the earth. the two faithful chair-bearers, respectful but with wonder in their souls, stood afar off and waited. baldos and beverly were alone in their own little world. "i think i liked you better when you wore the red feather and that horrid patch of black," she said musingly. "and was a heart-free vagabond," he added, something imploring in his voice. "an independent courtier, if you please, sir," she said severely. "do you want me to go back to the hills? i have the patch and the feather, and my friends are--" "no! don't suggest such a thing--yet." she began the protest eagerly and ended it in confusion. "alas, you mean that some day banishment is not unlikely?" "you don't expect to be a guard all your life, do you?" "not to serve the princess of graustark, i confess. my aim is much higher. if god lets me choose the crown i would serve, i shall enlist for life. the crown i would serve is wrought of love, the throne i would kneel before is a heart, the sceptre i would follow is in the slender hand of a woman. i could live and die in the service of my own choosing. but i am only the humble goat-hunter whose hopes are phantoms, whose ideals are conceived in impotence." "that was beautiful," murmured beverly, looking up, fascinated for the moment. "oh, that i had the courage to enlist," he cried, bending low once more. she felt the danger in his voice, half tremulous with some thing more than loyalty, and drew her hand away from a place of instant jeopardy. it was fire that she was playing with, she realized with a start of consciousness. sweet as the spell had grown to be, she saw that it must be shattered. "it is getting frightfully late," she sharply exclaimed. "they'll wonder where i've gone to. why, it's actually dark." "it has been dark for half an hour, your highness," said he, drawing himself up with sudden rigidness that distressed her. "are you going to return to the castle?" "yes. they'll have out a searching party pretty soon if i don't appear." "you have been good to me to-day," he said thoughtfully. "i shall try to merit the kindness. let me--" "oh, please don't talk in that humble way! it's ridiculous! i'd rather have you absolutely impertinent, i declare upon my honor i would. don't you remember how you talked when you wore the red feather? well, i liked it." baldos laughed easily, happily. his heart was not very humble, though his voice and manner were. "red is the color of insolence, you mean." "it's a good deal jauntier than blue," she declared. "before you call the bearers, miss--your highness, i wish to retract something i said awhile ago," he said very seriously. "i should think you would," she responded, utterly misinterpreting his intent. "you asked me to tell you what my message to ravone contained and i refused. subsequently the extent of his message to me led us into a most thorough understanding. it is only just and right that you should know what i said to him." "i trust you, baldos," she protested simply. "that is why i tell this to you. yesterday, your highness, the castle guard received their month's pay. you may not know how well we are paid, so i will say that it is ten gavvos to each. the envelope which i gave to ravone contained my wages for the past six weeks. they need it far more than i do. there was also a short note of good cheer to those poor comrades of mine, and the assurance that one day our luck may change and starvation be succeeded by plenty. and, still more, i told him that i knew you to be miss calhoun and that you were my angel of inspiration. that was all, your highness." "thank you, baldos, for telling me," she said softly. "you have made me ashamed of myself." "on the contrary, i fear that i have been indulging in mock heroics. truth and egotism--like a salad--require a certain amount of dressing." "since you are baldos, and not a fairy prince, i think you may instruct the men to carry me back, being without the magic tapestry which could transplant me in a whiff. goodness, who's that?" within ten feet of the sedan chair and directly behind the tall guard stood a small group of people. he and beverly, engrossed in each other, had not heard their approach. how long they had been silent spectators of the little scene only the intruders knew. the startled, abashed eyes of the girl in the chair were not long in distinguishing the newcomers. a pace in front of the others stood the gaunt, shadowy form of count marlanx. behind him were the princess yetive, the old prime minister, and baron dangloss. chapter xix the night fires "why, good evening. is that you?" struggled somewhat hysterically through beverly's lips. not since the dear old days of the stolen jam and sugar-bits had she known the feelings of a culprit caught red-handed. the light from the park lamps revealed a merry, accusing smile on the face of yetive, but the faces of the men were serious. marlanx was the picture of suppressed fury. "it is the relief expedition, your highness," said yetive warmly. "we thought you were lost in the wilds of the jungle." "she is much better protected than we could have imagined," said the iron count, malevolently mild and polite. "can't i venture into the park without being sent for?" asked beverly, ready to fly into the proper rage. the pink had left her cheeks white. "i am proud to observe, however, that the relief expedition is composed of the most distinguished people in all graustark. is there any significance to be attached to the circumstance?" "can't we also go strolling in the park, my dear?" plaintively asked yetive. "it depends upon where we stroll, i fancy," suggested marlanx derisively. beverly flashed a fierce look at the head of the army. "by the way, baron dangloss, where is the incomparable haddan?" baldos shot a startled glance at the two men and in an instant comprehension came to him. he knew the secret of haddan's constant companionship. an expression of bitter scorn settled upon his mouth, dangloss mumbled a reply, at which the iron count laughed sarcastically. "i am returning to the castle," said beverly coldly, "pray don't let me interfere with your stroll. or is it possible that you think it necessary to deliver me safely to my nurse, now that you have found me?" "don't be angry, dear," whispered yetive, coming close to her side. "i will tell you all about it later on. it was all due to count marlanx." "it was all done to humiliate me," replied beverly, indignation surpassing confusion at last. "i hate all of you." "oh, beverly!" whispered the princess, in distress. "well, perhaps _you_ were led into it," retracted beverly, half mollified. "look at that old villain whispering over there. no wonder his wives up and died. they just _had_ to do it. i hate all but you and count halfont and baron dangloss," which left but one condemned. "and baldos?" added yetive, patting her hand. "i wish you'd be sensible," cried beverly, most ungraciously, and yetive's soft laugh irritated her. "how long had you been listening to us?" "not so much as the tiniest part of a minute," said yetive, recalling another disastrous eavesdropping. "i am much wiser than when baldos first came to serve you. we were quite a distance behind count marlanx, i assure you." "then _he_ heard something?" asked beverly anxiously. "he has been in a detestable mood ever since we rejoined him. could he have heard anything disagreeable?" "no; on the contrary, it was quite agreeable." all this time baldos was standing at attention a few paces off, a model soldier despite the angry shifting of his black eyes. he saw that they had been caught in a most unfortunate position. no amount of explaining could remove the impression that had been forced upon the witnesses, voluntary or involuntary as the case might be. baldos could do nothing to help her, while she was compelled to face the suspicions of her best friends. at best it could be considered nothing short of a clandestine meeting, the consequences of which she must suffer, not he. in his heated brain he was beginning to picture scandal with all the disgusting details that grow out of evil misrepresentation. count halfont separated himself from the group of three and advanced to the sedan-chair. marlanx and dangloss were arguing earnestly in low tones. "shall we return, your highness?" asked halfont, addressing both with one of his rarest smiles. "if i remember aright, we were to dine _en famille_ to-night, and it is well upon the hour. besides, count marlanx is a little distressed by your absent-mindedness, miss beverly, and i fancy he is eager to have it out with you." "my absent-mindedness? what is it that i have forgotten?" asked beverly, puckering her brow. "that's the trouble, dear," said yetive. "you forgot your promise to teach him how to play that awful game called poker. he has waited for you at the castle since six o'clock. it is now eight. is it any wonder that he led the searching party? he has been on nettles for an hour and a half." "goodness, i'll wager he's in a temper!" exclaimed beverly, with no remorse, but some apprehension. "it would be wisdom to apologize to him," suggested yetive, and her uncle nodded earnestly. "all right. i think i can get him into good humor without half trying. oh, count marlanx! come here, please. you aren't angry with me, are you? wasn't it awful for me to run away and leave you to play solitaire instead of poker? but, don't you know, i was so wretchedly tired after the ride, and i knew you wouldn't mind if i--" and so she ran glibly on, completely forestalling him, to the secret amusement of the others. nevertheless, she was nervous and embarrassed over the situation. there was every reason to fear that the iron count had heard and seen enough to form a pretty good opinion of what had passed between herself and baldos in this remote corner of the park. a deep sense of shame was taking possession of her. marlanx, smiling significantly, looked into her brave little face, and permitted her to talk on until she had run out of breath and composure. then he bowed with exaggerated gallantry and informed her that he was hers to command, and that it was not for him to forgive but to accept whatever was her gracious pleasure. he called upon the chair-bearers and they took up their burden. beverly promptly changed her mind and concluded to walk to the castle. and so they started off, the chair going ahead as if out of commission forever. despite her efforts to do so, the american girl (feeling very much abused, by the way), was unsuccessful in the attempt to keep the princess at her side. yetive deliberately walked ahead with halfont and dangloss. it seemed to beverly that they walked unnecessarily fast and that marlanx was provokingly slow. baldos was twenty paces behind, as was his custom. "is it necessary for me to ask you to double the number of lessons i am to have?" marlanx asked. he was quite too close to her side to please beverly. "can't you learn in one lesson? most americans think they know all about poker after the first game." "i am not so quick-witted, your highness." "far be it from me to accelerate your wits, count marlanx. it might not be profitable." "you might profit by losing, you know," he ventured, leaning still closer, "poker is not the only game of chance. it was chance that gave me a winning hand this evening." "i don't understand." "it shall be my pleasure to teach you in return for instructions i am to have. i have tried to teach your excellent guard one phase of the game. he has not profited, i fear. he has been blind enough to pick a losing hand in spite of my advice. it is the game of hearts." beverly could not but understand. she shrank away with a shudder. her wits did not desert her, however. "i know the game," she said steadily. "one's object is to cast off all the hearts. i have been very lucky at the game, count marlanx." "umph!" was his ironical comment. "ah, isn't this a night for lovers?" he went on, changing tack suddenly. "to stroll in the shadows, where even the moon is blind, is a joy that love alone provides. come, fair mistress, share this joy with me." with that his hand closed over her soft arm above the elbow and she was drawn close to his side. beverly's first shock of revulsion was succeeded by the distressing certainty that baldos was a helpless witness of this indignity. she tried to jerk her arm away, but he held it tight. "release my arm, sir!" she cried, hoarse with passion. "call your champion, my lady. it will mean his death. i have evidence that will insure his conviction and execution within an hour. nothing could call him, i say, and--" "i _will_ call him. he is my sworn protector, and i will command him to knock you down if you don't go away," she flared, stopping decisively. "at his peril--" "baldos!" she called, without a second's hesitation. the guard came up with a rush just as marlanx released her arm and fell away with a muttered imprecation. "your highness!" cried baldos, who had witnessed everything. "are you afraid to die?" she demanded briefly; and clearly. "no!" "that is all," she said, suddenly calm. "i merely wanted to prove it to count marlanx." tact had come to her relief most opportunely. like a flash she saw that a conflict between the commander of the army and a guard could have but one result and that disastrous to the latter. one word from her would have ended everything for baldos. she saw through the iron count's ruse as if by divine inspiration and profited where he least expected her to excel in shrewdness. marlanx had deliberately invited the assault by the guard. his object had been to snare baldos into his own undoing, and a horrible undoing it would have been. one blow would have secured the desired result. nothing could have saved the guard who had struck his superior officer. but beverly thought in time. "to die is easy, your highness. you have but to ask it of me," said baldos, whose face was white and drawn. "she has no intention of demanding such a pleasant sacrifice" observed count marlanx, covering his failure skilfully. "later on, perhaps, she may sign your death warrant. i am proud to hear, sir, that a member of my corps has the courage to face the inevitable, even though he be an alien and unwilling to die on the field of battle. you have my compliments, sir. you have been on irksome duty for several hours and must be fatigued as well as hungry. a soldier suffers many deprivations, not the least of which is starvation in pursuit of his calling. mess is not an unwelcome relief to you after all these arduous hours. you may return to the barracks at once. the princess is under my care for the remainder of the campaign." baldos looked first at her and then at the sarcastic old general. yetive and her companions were waiting for them at the fountain, a hundred yards ahead. "you may go, baldos," said beverly in low tones. "i am not fatigued nor--" he began eagerly. "go!" snarled marlanx. "am i to repeat a command to you? do you ignore the word of your mistress?" there was a significant sneer in the way he said it. "mistress?" gasped baldos, his eye blazing, his arm half raised. "count marlanx!" implored beverly, drawing herself to her full height and staring at him like a wounded thing. "i humbly implore you not to misconstrue the meaning of the term, your highness," said the count affably, "ah, you have dropped something. permit me. it is a note of some description, i think." he stooped quickly--too quickly--and recovered from the ground at her feet the bit of paper which had fallen from her hand. it was the note from ravone to baldos which beverly had forgotten in the excitement of the encounter. "count marlanx, give me that paper!" demanded beverly breathlessly. "is it a love-letter? perhaps it is intended for me. at any rate, your highness, it is safe against my heart for the time being. when we reach the castle i shall be happy to restore it. it is safer with me. come, we go one way and--have you not gone, sir?" in his most sarcastic tone to the guard. beverly was trembling. "no, i have not; and i shall not go until i see you obey the command of her highness. she has asked you for that piece of paper," said baldos, standing squarely in front of marlanx. "insolent dog! do you mean to question my--" "give over that paper!" "if you strike me, fellow, it will be--" "if i strike you it will be to kill, count marlanx. the paper, sir." baldos towered over the iron count and there was danger in his dare-devil voice. "surely, sir, i am but obeying your own instructions. 'protect the princess and all that is hers, with your life,' you have said to me." "oh, i wish you hadn't done this, baldos," cried beverly, panic-stricken. "you have threatened my life. i shall not forget it, fool. here is the precious note, your highness, with my condolences to the writer." marlanx passed the note to her and then looked triumphantly at the guard. "i daresay you have done all you can, sir. do you wish to add anything more?" "what can one do when dealing with his superior and finds him a despicable coward?" said baldos, with cool irony. "you are reputed to be a brave soldier. i know that to be false or i would ask you to draw the sword you carry and--" he was drawing his sword as he spoke. "baldos!" implored beverly. her evident concern infuriated marlanx. in his heart he knew baldos to be a man of superior birth and a foeman not to be despised from his own station. carried away by passion, he flashed his sword from its sheath. "you have drawn on me, sir," he snarled. "i must defend myself against even such as you. you will find that i am no coward. time is short for your gallant lover, madam." before she could utter a word of protest the blades had clashed and they were hungry for blood. it was dark in the shadows of the trees and the trio were quite alone with their tragedy. she heard baldos laugh recklessly in response to marlanx's cry of: "oh, the shame of fighting with such carrion as you!" "don't jest at a time like this, count," said the guard, softly. "remember that i lose, no matter which way it goes. if you kill me i lose, if i beat you i lose. remember, you can still have me shot for insubordination and conduct unbecoming--" "stop!" almost shrieked beverly. at risk of personal injury she rushed between the two swordsmen. both drew back and dropped their points. not a dozen passes had been made. "i beg your highness's pardon," murmured baldos, but he did not sheathe his sword. "he forced it upon me," cried marlanx triumphantly. "you were witness to it all. i was a fool to let it go as far as this. put up your sword until another day--if that day ever comes to you." "he will have you shot for this, baldos," cried beverly in her terror. baldos laughed bitterly. "tied and blindfolded, too, your highness, to prove that he is a brave man and not a coward. it was short but it was sweet. would that you had let the play go on. there was a spice in it that made life worth living and death worth the dying. have you other commands for me, your highness?" his manner was so cool and defiant that she felt the tears spring to her eyes. "only that you put up your sword and end this miserable affair by going to your--your room." "it is punishment enough. to-morrow's execution can be no harder." marlanx had been thinking all this time. into his soul came the thrill of triumph, the consciousness of a mighty power. he saw the chance to benefit by the sudden clash and he was not slow to seize it. "never fear, my man," he said easily, "it won't be as bad as that. i can well afford to overlook your indiscretion of to-night. there will be no execution, as you call it. this was an affair between men not between man and the state. our gracious referee is to be our judge. it is for her to pardon and to condemn. it was very pretty while it lasted and you are too good a swordsman to be shot. go your way, baldos, and remember me as marlanx the man, not marlanx the general. as your superior officer, i congratulate and commend you upon the manner in which you serve the princess." "you will always find me ready to fight and to die for her" said baldos gravely. "do you think you can remember that. count marlanx?" "i have an excellent memory," said the count steadily. with a graceful salute to beverly, baldos turned and walked away in the darkness. "a perfect gentleman, miss calhoun, but a wretched soldier," said marlanx grimly. "he is a hero," she said quietly, a great calmness coming over her. "do you mean it when you say you are not going to have him punished? he did only what a man should do, and i glory in his folly." "i may as well tell you point blank that you alone can save him. he does not deserve leniency. it is in my power and it is my province to have him utterly destroyed, not only for this night's work, but for other and better reasons. i have positive proof that he is a spy. he knows i have this proof. that is why he would have killed me just now. it is for you to say whether he shall meet the fate of a spy or go unscathed. you have but to exchange promises with me and the estimable guardsman goes free--but he goes from edelweiss forever. to-day he met the enemy's scouts in the hills, as you know quite well. messages were exchanged, secretly, which you do not know of, of course. before another day is gone i expect to see the results of his treachery. there may be manifestations to-night. you do not believe me, but wait and see if i am not right. he is one of gabriel's cleverest spies." "i do not believe it. you shall not accuse him of such things," she cried. "besides, if he is a spy why should you shield him for my sake? don't you owe it to graustark to expose--" "here is the princess," said he serenely. "your highness," addressing yetive, "miss calhoun has a note which she refuses to let anyone read but you. now, my dear young lady, you may give it directly into the hands of her highness." beverly gave him a look of scorn, but without a second's hesitation placed the missive in yetive's hand. the iron count's jaw dropped, and he moistened his lips with his tongue two or three times. something told him that a valuable chance had gone. "i shall be only too happy to have your highness read the result of my first lesson in the graustark language," she said, smiling gaily upon the count. two men in uniform came rushing up to the party, manifestly excited. saluting the general, both began to speak at once. "one at a time," commanded the count. "what is it?" other officers of the guard and a few noblemen from the castle came up, out of breath. "we have discerned signal fires in the hills, your excellency," said one of the men from the fort. "there is a circle of fires and they mean something important. for half an hour they have been burning near the monastery; also in the valley below and on the mountains to the south." there was an instant of deathly silence, as if the hearers awaited a crash. marlanx looked steadily at beverly's face and she saw the triumphant, accusing gleam in his eyes. helplessly she stared into the crowd of faces. her eyes fell upon baldos, who suddenly appeared in the background. his face wore a hunted, imploring look. the next instant he disappeared among the shadows. chapter xx gossip of some consequence "there is no time to be lost," exclaimed count marlanx. "ask colonel braze to report to me at the eastern gate with a detail of picked troopers--a hundred of them. i will meet him there in half an hour." he gave other sharp, imperative commands, and in the twinkling of an eye the peaceful atmosphere was transformed into the turbulent, exciting rush of activity. the significance of the fires seen in the hills could not be cheaply held. instant action was demanded. the city was filled with the commotion of alarm; the army was brought to its feet with a jerk that startled even the most ambitious. the first thing that general marlanx did was to instruct quinnox to set a vigilant watch over baldos. he was not to be arrested, but it was understood that the surveillance should be but little short of incarceration. he was found at the barracks shortly after the report concerning the signal fires, and told in plain words that general marlanx had ordered a guard placed over him for the time being, pending the result of an investigation. baldos had confidently expected to be thrown into a dungeon for his affront. he did not know that grenfall lorry stood firm in his conviction that baldos was no spy, and was supported by others in high authority. marlanx was bottling his wrath and holding back his revenge for a distinct purpose. apart from the existence of a strong, healthy prejudice in the guard's favor, what the old general believed and what he could prove were two distinct propositions. he was crafty enough, however, to take advantage of a condition unknown to beverly calhoun, the innocent cause of all his bitterness toward baldos. as he hastened from the council chamber, his eyes swept the crowd of eager, excited women in the grand hall. from among them he picked beverly and advanced upon her without regard for time and consequence. despite her animation he was keen enough to see that she was sorely troubled. she did not shrink from him as he had half expected, but met him with bold disdain in her eyes. "this is the work of your champion," he said in tones that did not reach ears other than her own. "i prophesied it, you must remember. are you satisfied now that you have been deceived in him?" "i have implicit confidence in him. i suppose you have ordered his arrest?" she asked with quiet scorn. "he is under surveillance, at my suggestion. for your sake, and yours alone, i am giving him a chance. he is your protege; you are responsible for his conduct. to accuse him would be to place you in an embarrassing position. there is a sickening rumor in court circles that you have more than a merely kind and friendly interest in the rascal. if i believed that, miss calhoun, i fear my heart could not be kind to him. but i know it is not true. you have a loftier love to give. he is a clever scoundrel, and there is no telling how much harm he has already done to graustark. his every move is to be watched and reported to me. it will be impossible for him to escape. to save him from the vengeance of the army, i am permitting him to remain in your service, ostensibly, at least. his hours of duty have been changed, however. henceforth he is in the night guard, from midnight till dawn. i am telling you this, miss calhoun, because i want you to know that in spite of all the indignity i have suffered, you are more to me than any other being in the world, more to me even than my loyalty to graustark. do me the honor and justice to remember this. i have suffered much for you. i am a rough, hardened soldier, and you have misconstrued my devotion. forgive the harsh words my passion may have inspired. farewell! i must off to undo the damage we all lay at the door of the man you and i are protecting." he was too wise to give her the chance to reply. a moment later he was mounted and off for the eastern gates, there to direct the movements of colonel braze and his scouts. beverly flew at once to yetive with her plea for baldos. she was confronted by a rather sober-faced sovereign. the news of the hour was not comforting to the princess and her ministers. "you don't believe he is a spy?" cried beverly, stopping just inside the door, presuming selfishly that baldos alone was the cause for worry. she resolved to tell yetive of the conflict in the park. "dear me, beverly, i am not thinking of him. we've discussed him jointly and severally and every other way and he has been settled for the time being. you are the only one who is thinking of him, my dear child. we have weightier things to annoy us." "goodness, how you talk! he isn't annoying. oh, forgive me, yetive, for i am the silliest, addle-patedest goose in the kingdom. and you are so troubled. but do you know that he is being watched? they suspect him. so did i, at first, i'll admit it. but i don't--now. have you read the note i gave to you out there?" "yes, dear. it's just as i expected. he has known from the beginning. he knew when he caught dagmar and me spying behind that abominable curtain. but don't worry me any longer about him, please. wait here with me until we have reports from the troops. i shall not sleep until i know what those fires meant. forget baldos for an hour or two, for my sake." "you dear old princess, i'm an awful brute, sure 'nough. i'll forget him forever for your sake. it won't be hard, either. he's just a mere guard. pooh! he's no prince." whereupon, reinforced by mrs. anguish and the countess halfont, she proceeded to devote herself to the task of soothing and amusing the distressed princess while the soldiers of graustark ransacked the moonlit hills. the night passed, and the next day was far on its way to sunset before the scouts came in with tidings. no trace of the mysterious signalers had been found. the embers of the half-dozen fires were discovered, but their builders were gone. the search took in miles of territory, but it was unavailing. not even a straggler was found. the so-called troupe of actors, around whom suspicion centered, had been swallowed by the capacious solitude of the hills. riders from the frontier posts to the south came in with the report that all was quiet in the threatened district. dawsbergen was lying quiescent, but with the readiness of a skulking dog. there was absolutely no solution to the mystery connected with the fires on the mountain sides. baldos was questioned privately and earnestly by lorry and dangloss. his reply was simple, but it furnished food for reflection and, at the same time, no little relief to the troubled leaders. "it is my belief, mr. lorry, that the fires were built by brigands and not by your military foes. i have seen these fires in the north, near axphain, and they were invariably meant to establish communication between separated squads of robbers, all belonging to one band. my friends and i on more than one occasion narrowly escaped disaster by prying into the affairs of these signalers. i take it that the squads have been operating in the south and were brought together last night by means of the fires. doubtless they have some big project of their own sort on foot." that night the city looked for a repetition of the fires, but the mountains were black from dusk till dawn. word reached the castle late in the evening, from ganlook, that an axphainian nobleman and his followers would reach edelweiss the next day. the visit was a friendly but an important one. the nobleman was no other than the young duke of mizrox, intimate friend of the unfortunate prince lorenz who met his death at the hand of prince gabriel, and was the leader of the party which opposed the vengeful plans of princess volga. his arrival in edelweiss was awaited with deep anxiety, for it was suspected that his news would be of the most important character. beverly calhoun sat on the balcony with the princess long after midnight. the sky was black with the clouds of an approaching storm; the air was heavy with foreboding silence. twice, from their darkened corner near the pillar, they saw baldos as he paced steadily past the castle on patrol, with haddan at his side. dreamily the watchers in the cool balcony looked down upon the somber park and its occasional guardsman. neither was in the mood to talk. as they rose at last to go to their rooms, something whizzed through the air and dropped with a slight thud in the center of the balcony. the two young women started back in alarm. a faint light from beverly's window filtered across the stone floor. "don't touch it, beverly," cried the princess, as the girl started forward with an eager exclamation. but beverly had been thinking of the very object that now quivered before her in the dull light, saucy, aggressive and jaunty as it was the night when she saw it for the first time. a long, slim red feather bobbed to and fro as if saluting her with soldierly fidelity. its base was an orange, into which it had been stuck by the hand that tossed it from below. beverly grasped it with more ecstasy than wisdom and then rushed to the stone railing, yetive looking on in amazement. diligently she searched the ground below for the man who had sent the red message, but he was nowhere in sight. then came the sudden realization that she was revealing a most unmaidenly eagerness, to him as well as to the princess, for she did not doubt that he was watching from the shadows below. she withdrew from the rail in confusion and fled to her bed-chamber, followed by her curious companion. there were explanations--none of which struck speaker or listener as logical--and there were giggles which completely simplified the situation. beverly thrust the slim red feather into her hair, and struck an attitude that would have set baldos wild with joy if he could have seen it. the next day, when she appeared in the park, the feather stood up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat, though womanly perverseness impelled her to ignore baldos when he passed her on his way to mess. the duke of mizrox came into the city hours after the time set for his arrival. it was quite dark when the escort sent by colonel quinnox drew up at the castle gates with the visitor. the duke and his party had been robbed by brigands in the broad daylight and at a point not more than five miles from edelweiss! and thus the mystery of the signal fires was explained. count marlanx did not soon forget the triumphant look he received from beverly calhoun when the duke's misfortunes were announced. shameless as it may seem, she rejoiced exceedingly over the acts of the robbers. mizrox announced to the princess and her friends that he was not an emissary from the axphainian government. instead, he was but little less than a fugitive from the wrath of volga and the crown adherents. earlier in the week he had been summoned before volga and informed that his absence for a few months, at least, from the principality was desirable. the privilege was allowed him of selecting the country which he desired to visit during that period, and he coolly chose graustark. he was known to have friendly feelings for that state; but no objections were raised. this friendship also gave him a welcome in edelweiss. mizrox plainly stated his position to yetive and the prime minister. he asked for protection, but declined to reveal any of the plans then maturing in his home country. this reluctance to become a traitor, even though he was not in sympathy with his sovereign, was respected by the princess. he announced his willingness to take up arms against dawsbergen, but would in no way antagonize axphain from an enemy's camp. the duke admitted that the feeling in axphain's upper circles was extremely bitter toward graustark. the old-time war spirit had not died down. axphain despised her progressive neighbor. "i may as well inform your highness that the regent holds another and a deeper grudge against graustark," he said, in the audience chamber where were assembled many of the nobles of the state, late on the night of his arrival. "she insists that you are harboring and even shielding the pretender to our throne, prince frederic. it is known that he is in graustark and, moreover, it is asserted that he is in direct touch with your government." yetive and her companions looked at one another with glances of comprehension. he spoke in english now for the benefit of beverly calhoun, an interested spectator, who felt her heart leap suddenly and swiftly into violent insurrection. "nothing could be more ridiculous," said yetive after a pause. "we do not know frederic, and we are not harboring him." "i am only saying what is believed to be true by axphain, your highness. it is reported that he joined you in the mountains in june and since has held a position of trust in your army." "would you know prince frederic if you were to see him?" quietly asked lorry. "i have not seen him since he was a very small boy, and then but for a moment--on the day when he and his mother were driven through the streets on their way to exile." "we have a new man in the castle guard and there is a mystery attached to him. would you mind looking at him and telling us if he is what frederic might be in his manhood?" lorry put the question and everyone present drew a deep breath of interest. mizrox readily consented and baldos, intercepted on his rounds, was led unsuspecting into an outer chamber. the duke, accompanied by lorry and baron dangloss, entered the room. they were gone from the assemblage but a few minutes, returning with smiles of uncertainty on their faces. "it is impossible, your highness, for me to say whether or not it is frederic," said the duke frankly. "he is what i imagine the pretender might be at his age, but it would be sheer folly for me to speculate. i do not know the man." beverly squeezed the countess dagmar's arm convulsively. "hurrah!" she whispered, in great relief. dagmar looked at her in astonishment. she could not fathom the whimsical american. "they have been keeping an incessant watch over the home of frederic's cousin. he is to marry her when the time is propitious," volunteered the young duke. "she is the most beautiful girl in axphain, and the family is one of the wealthiest. her parents bitterly oppose the match. they were to have been secretly married some months ago, and there is a rumor to the effect that they did succeed in evading the vigilance of her people." "you mean that they may be married?" asked yetive, casting a quick glance at beverly. "it is not improbable, your highness. he is known to be a daring young fellow, and he has never failed in a siege against the heart of woman. report has it that he is the most invincible lothario that ever donned love's armor." beverly was conscious of furtive glances in her direction, and a faint pink stole into her temples. "our fugitive princes are lucky in neither love nor war," went on the duke. "poor dantan, who is hiding from gabriel, is betrothed to the daughter of the present prime minister of dawsbergen, the beautiful iolanda, i have seen her. she is glorious, your highness." "i, too, have seen her," said yetive, more gravely than she thought. "the report of their betrothal is true, then?" "his sudden overthrow prevented the nuptials which were to have taken place in a month had not gabriel returned. her father, the duke of matz, wisely accepted the inevitable and became prime minister to gabriel. iolanda, it is said, remains true to him and sends messages to him as he wanders through the mountains." beverly's mind instantly reverted to the confessions of baldos. he had admitted the sending and receiving of messages through franz. try as she would, she could not drive the thought from her mind that he was dantan and now came the distressing fear that his secret messages were words of love from iolanda. the audience lasted until late in the night, but she was so occupied with her own thoughts that she knew of but little that transpired. of one thing she was sure. she could not go to sleep that night. chapter xxi the rose the next morning aunt fanny had a hard time of it. her mistress was petulant; there was no sunshine in the bright august day as it appeared to her. toward dawn, after she had counted many millions of black sheep jumping backward over a fence, she had fallen asleep. aunt fanny obeyed her usual instructions on this luckless morning. it was beverly's rule to be called every morning at seven o'clock. but how was her attendant to know that the graceful young creature who had kicked the counterpane to the foot of the bed and had mauled the pillow out of all shape, had slept for less than thirty minutes? how was she to know that the flushed face and frown were born in the course of a night of distressing perplexities? she knew only that the sleeping beauty who lay before her was the fairest creature in all the universe. for some minutes aunt fanny stood off and admired the rich youthful glory of the sleeper, prophetically reluctant to disturb her happiness. then she obeyed the impulse of duty and spoke the summoning words. "wha--what time is it?" demanded the newcomer from the land of nod, stretching her fine young body with a splendid but discontented yawn. "seben, miss bev'ly; wha' time do yo' s'pose hit is? hit's d' reg'lah time, o' co'se. did yo' all have a nice sleep, honey?" and aunt fanny went blissfully about the business of the hour. "i didn't sleep a wink, confound it," grumbled beverly, rubbing her eyes and turning on her back to glare up at the tapestry above the couch. "yo' wasn' winkin' any when ah fust come into de room, lemme tell yo'," cackled aunt fanny with caustic freedom. "see here, now, aunt fanny, i'm not going to stand any lecture from you this morning. when a fellow hasn't slept a--" "who's a-lecturin' anybody, ah'd lak to know? ah'm jes' tellin' yo' what yo' was a-doin' when ah came into de room. yo' was a-sleepin' p'etty doggone tight, lemme tell yo'. is yo' goin' out fo' yo' walk befo' b'eakfus, honey? 'cause if yo' is, yo' all 'll be obleeged to climb out'n dat baid maghty quick-like. yo' baf is ready, miss bev'ly." beverly splashed the water with unreasonable ferocity for a few minutes, trying to enjoy a diversion that had not failed her until this morning. "aunt fanny," she announced, after looking darkly through her window into the mountains above, "if you can't brush my hair--ouch!--any easier than this, i'll have someone else do it, that's all. you're a regular old bear." "po' lil' honey," was all the complacent "bear" said in reply, without altering her methods in the least. "well," said beverly threateningly, with a shake of her head, "be careful, that's all. have you heard the news?" "wha' news, miss bev'ly?" "we're going back to washin'ton." "thank de lawd! when?" "i don't know. i've just this instant made up my mind. i think we'll start--let's see: this is the sixth of august, isn't it? well, look and see, if you don't know, stupid. the tenth? my goodness, where has the time gone, anyway? well? we'll start sometime between the eleventh and the twelfth." "of dis monf, miss bev'ly?" "no; september. i want you to look up a timetable for me to-day. we must see about the trains." "dey's on'y one leavin' heah daily, an' hit goes at six in de mo'nin'. one train a day! ain' 'at scan'lous?" "i'm sure, aunt fanny, it is their business--not ours," said beverly severely. "p'raps dey mought be runnin' a excuhsion 'roun' 'baout septembeh, miss bev'ly," speculated aunt fanny consolingly. "dey gen'ly has 'em in septembeh." "you old goose," cried beverly, in spite of herself. "ain' yo' habin' er good time, honey?" "no, i am not." "fo' de lan's sake, ah wouldn' s'picioned hit fo' a minnit. hit's de gayest place ah mos' eveh saw--'cept wash'ton an' lex'ton an' vicksbu'g." "well, you don't know everything," said beverly crossly. "i wish you'd take that red feather out of my hat--right away." "shall ah frow hit away, miss bev'ly?" "we--ll, no; you needn't do that," said beverly, "put it on my dressing-table. i'll attend to it." "wha's become o' de gemman 'at wo' hit in the fust place? ah ain' seen him fo' two--three days." "i'm sure i don't know. he's probably asleep. that class of people never lose sleep over anything." "'e's er pow'ful good-lookin' pusson," suggested aunt fanny. beverly's eyes brightened. "oh, do you think so?" she said, quite indifferently. "what are you doing with that hat?" "takin' out de featheh--jes' as--" "well, leave it alone. don't disturb my things, aunt fanny. how many times must i tell you--" "good lawd!" was all that aunt fanny could say. "don't forget about the time-tables," said beverly, as she sallied forth for her walk in the park. in the afternoon she went driving with princess yetive and the young duke of mizrox, upon whose innocent and sufficiently troubled head she was heaping secret abuse because of the news he brought. later, count marlanx appeared at the castle for his first lesson in poker. he looked so sure of himself that beverly hated him to the point of desperation. at the same time she was eager to learn how matters stood with baldos. the count's threat still hung over her head, veiled by its ridiculous shadow of mercy. she knew him well enough by this time to feel convinced that baldos would have to account for his temerity, sooner or later. it was like the cat and the helpless mouse. "it's too hot," she protested, when he announced himself ready for the game. "nobody plays poker when it's in the shade." "but, your highness," complained the count, "war may break out any day. i cannot concede delay." "i think there's a game called 'shooting craps,'" suggested she serenely. "it seems to me it would be particularly good for warriors. you could be shooting something all the time." he went away in a decidedly irascible frame of mind. she did not know it, but baldos was soon afterward set to work in the garrison stables, a most loathsome occupation, in addition to his duties as a guard by night. after mature deliberation beverly set herself to the task of writing home to her father. it was her supreme intention to convince him that she would be off for the states in an amazingly short time. the major, upon receiving the letter three weeks later, found nothing in it to warrant the belief that she was ever coming home. he did observe, however, that she had but little use for the army of graustark, and was especially disappointed in the set of men yetive retained as her private guard. for the life of her, beverly could not have told why she disapproved of the guard in general or in particular, but she was conscious of the fact, after the letter was posted, that she had said many things that might have been left unwritten. besides, it was not baldos's fault that she could not sleep; it was distinctly her own. he had nothing to do with it. "i'll bet father will be glad to hear that i am coming home," she said to yetive, after the letter was gone. "oh, beverly, dear, i hate to hear of your going," cried the princess. "when did you tell him you'd start?" "why, oh,--er--let me see; when _did_ i say? dash me--as mr. anguish would say--i don't believe i gave a date. it seems to me i said _soon_, that's all." "you don't know how relieved i am," exclaimed yetive rapturously? and beverly was in high dudgeon because of the implied reflection, "i believe you are in a tiff with baldos," went on yetive airily. "goodness! how foolish you can be at times, yetive," was what beverly gave back to her highness, the princess of graustark. late in the evening couriers came in from the dawsbergen frontier with reports which created considerable excitement in castle and army circles. prince gabriel himself had been seen in the northern part of his domain, accompanied by a large detachment of picked soldiers. lorry set out that very night for the frontier, happy in the belief that something worth while was about to occur. general marlanx issued orders for the edelweiss army corps to mass beyond the southern gates of the city the next morning. commands were also sent to the outlying garrisons. there was to be a general movement of troops before the end of the week. graustark was not to be caught napping. long after the departure of lorry and anguish, the princess sat on the balcony with beverly and the countess dagmar. they did not talk much. the mission of these venturesome young american husbands was full of danger. something in the air had told their wives that the first blows of war were to be struck before they looked again upon the men they loved. "i think we have been betrayed by someone," said dagmar, after an almost interminable silence. her companion did not reply. "the couriers say that gabriel knows where we are weakest at the front and that he knows our every movement. yetive, there is a spy here, after all." "and that spy has access to the very heart of our deliberations," added beverly pointedly. "i say this in behalf of the man whom you evidently suspect, countess. _he_ could not know these things." "i do not say that he does know, miss calhoun, but it is not beyond reason that he may be the go-between, the means of transferring information from the main traitor to the messengers who await outside our walls." "oh, i don't believe it!" cried beverly hotly. "i wonder if these things would have happened if baldos had never come to edelweiss?" mused the princess. as though by common impulse, both of the graustark women placed their arms about beverly. "it's because we have so much at stake, beverly, dear," whispered dagmar. "forgive me if i have hurt you." of course, beverly sobbed a little in the effort to convince them that she did not care whom they accused, if he proved to be the right man in the end. they left her alone on the balcony. for an hour after midnight she sat there and dreamed. everyone was ready to turn against baldos. even she had been harsh toward him, for had she not seen him relegated to the most obnoxious of duties after promising him a far different life? and now what was he thinking of her? his descent from favor had followed upon the disclosures which made plain to each the identity of the other. no doubt he was attributing his degradation, in a sense, to the fact that she no longer relished his services, having seen a romantic little ideal shattered by his firm assertions. of course, she knew that general marlanx was alone instrumental in assigning him to the unpleasant duty he now observed, but how was baldos to know that she was not the real power behind the iron count? a light drizzle began to fall, cold and disagreeable. there were no stars, no moon. the ground below was black with shadows, but shimmering in spots touched by the feeble park lamps. she retreated through her window, determined to go to bed. her rebellious brain, however, refused to banish him from her thoughts. she wondered if he were patroling the castle grounds in the rain, in all that lonely darkness. seized by a sudden inspiration, she threw a gossamer about her, grasped an umbrella and ventured out upon the balcony once more. guiltily she searched the night through the fine drizzling rain; her ears listened eagerly for the tread which was so well known to her. at last he strode beneath a lamp not far away. he looked up, but, of course, could not see her against the dark wall. for a long time he stood motionless beneath the light. she could not help seeing that he was dejected, tired, unhappy. his shoulders drooped, and there as a general air of listlessness about the figure which had once been so full of courage and of hope. the post light fell directly upon his face. it was somber, despondent, strained. he wore the air of a prisoner. her heart went out to him like a flash. the debonair knight of the black patch was no more; in his place there stood a sullen slave to discipline. "baldos!" she called softly, her voice penetrating the dripping air with the clearness of a bell. he must have been longing for the sound of it, for he started and looked eagerly in her direction. his tall form straightened as he passed his hand over his brow. it was but a voice from his dream, he thought. "aren't you afraid you'll get wet?" asked the same low, sweet voice, with the suggestion of a laugh behind it. with long strides he crossed the pavement and stood almost directly beneath her. "your highness!" he exclaimed gently, joyously. "what are you doing out there?" "wondering, baldos--wondering what you were thinking of as you stood under the lamp over there." "i was thinking of your highness," he called up, softly. "no, no!" she protested. "i, too, was wondering--wondering what you were dreaming of as you slept, for you should be asleep at this hour, your highness, instead of standing out there in the rain." "baldos," she called down tremulously, "you don't like this work, do you?" "it has nothing but darkness in it for me. i never see the light of your eyes. i never feel the--" "sh! you must not talk like that. it's not proper, and besides someone may be listening. the night has a thousand ears--or is it eyes? but listen: to-morrow you shall be restored to your old duties. you surely cannot believe that i had anything to do with the order which compels you to work at this unholy hour." "i was afraid you were punishing me for my boldness. my heart has been sore--you never can know how sore. i was disgraced, dismissed, forgotten--" "no, no--you _were_ not! you must not say that. go away now, baldos. you will ride with me to-morrow," she cried nervously. "please go to some place where you won't get dripping wet." "you forget that i am on guard," he said with a laugh. "but you are a wise counsellor. is the rain so pleasant to you?" "i have an umbrella," she protested. "what are you doing?" she cried in alarm. he was coming hand over hand, up the trellis-work that enclosed the lower verandah. "i am coming to a place where i won't get dripping wet," he called softly. there was a dangerous ring in his voice and she drew back in a panic. "you must not!" she cried desperately. "this is madness! go down, sir!" "i am happy enough to fly, but cannot. so i do the next best thing--i climb to you." his arm was across the stone railing by this time and he was panting from the exertion, not two feet from where she crouched. "just one minute of heaven before i go back to the shadow of earth. i am happy again. marlanx told me you had dismissed me. i wonder what he holds in reserve for me. i knew he lied, but it is not until now that i rejoice. come, you are to shield me from the rain." "oh, oh!" she gasped, overwhelmed by his daring passion. "i should die if anyone saw you here." yet she spasmodically extended the umbrella so that it covered him and left her out in the drizzle. "and so should i," responded he softly. "listen to me. for hours and hours i have been longing for the dear old hills in which you found me. i wanted to crawl out of edelweiss and lose myself forever in the rocks and crags. to-night when you saw me i was trying to say good-bye to you forever. i was trying to make up my mind to desert. i could not endure the new order of things. you had cast me off. my friends out there were eager to have me with them. in the city everyone is ready to call me a spy--even you, i thought. life was black and drear. now, my princess, it is as bright as heaven itself." "you must not talk like this," she whispered helplessly. "you are making me sorry i called to you." "i should have heard you if you had only whispered, my rain princess. i have no right to talk of love--i am a vagabond; but i have a heart, and it is a bold one. perhaps i dream that i am here beside you--so near that i can touch your face--but it is the sweetest of dreams. but for it i should have left edelweiss weeks ago. i shall never awaken from this dream; you cannot rob me of the joys of dreaming." under the spell of his passion she drew nearer to him as he clung strongly to the rail. the roses at her throat came so close that he could bury his face in them. her hand touched his cheek, and he kissed its palm again and again, his wet lips stinging her blood to the tips of her toes. "go away, please," she implored faintly. "don't you see that you must not stay here--now?" "a rose, my princess,--one rose to kiss all through the long night," he whispered. she could feel his eyes burning into her heart. with trembling, hurried fingers she tore loose a rose. he could not seize it with his hands because of the position he held, and she laughed tantalizingly. then she kissed it first and pressed it against his mouth. his lips and teeth closed over the stem and the rose was his. "there are thorns," she whispered, ever so softly. "they are the riches of the poor," he murmured with difficulty, but she understood. "now, go," she said, drawing resolutely away. an instant later his head disappeared below the rail. peering over the side she saw his figure spring easily to the ground, and then came the rapid, steady tramp as he went away on his dreary patrol. "i couldn't help it," she was whispering to herself between joy and shame. glancing instinctively out toward the solitary lamp she saw two men standing in its light. one of them was general marlanx; the other she knew to be the spy that watched baldos. her heart sank like lead when she saw that the two were peering intently toward the balcony where she stood, and where baldos had clung but a moment before. chapter xxii a proposal she shrank back with a great dread in her heart. marlanx, of all men! why was he in the park at this hour of the night? there could be but one answer, and the very thought of it almost suffocated her. he was drawing the net with his own hands, he was spying with his own eyes. for a full minute it seemed to her that her heart would stop beating. how long had he been standing there? what had he seen or heard? involuntarily she peered over the rail for a glimpse of baldos. he had gone out into the darkness, missing the men at the lamp-post either by choice or through pure good fortune. a throb of thankfulness assailed her heart. she was not thinking of her position, but of his. again she drew stealthily away from the rail, possessed of a ridiculous feeling that her form was as plain to the vision as if it were broad daylight. the tread of a man impelled her to glance below once more before fleeing to her room. marlanx was coming toward the verandah. she fled swiftly, pausing at the window to lower the friendly but forgotten umbrella. from below came the sibilant hiss of a man seeking to attract her attention. once more she stopped to listen. the "hist" was repeated, and then her own name was called softly but imperatively. it was beyond the power of woman to keep from laughing. it struck her as irresistibly funny that the iron count should be standing out there in the rain, signaling to her like a love-sick boy. once she was inside, however, it did not seem so amusing. still, it gave her an immense amount of satisfaction to slam the windows loudly, as if in pure defiance. then she closed the blinds, shutting out the night completely. turning up the light at her dressing-table, she sat down in a state of sudden collapse. for a long time she stared at her face in the mirror. she saw the red of shame and embarrassment mount to her cheeks and then she covered her eyes with her hands. "oh, what a fool you've been," she half sobbed, shrinking from the mirror as if it were an accuser. she prepared for bed with frantic haste. just as she was about to scramble in and hide her face in the pillows, a shocking thought came to her. the next she was at the windows and the slats were closed with a rattle like a volley of firearms. then she jumped into bed. she wondered if the windows were locked. out she sprang again like a flash, and her little bare feet scurried across the room, first to the windows and then to the door. "now, i reckon i'm safe," she murmured a moment later, again getting into bed. "i love to go to sleep with the rain pattering outside like that. oh, dear, i'm so sorry he has to walk all night in this rain. poor fellow! i wonder where he is now. goodness, it's raining cats and dogs!" but in spite of the rain she could not go to sleep. vague fears began to take possession of her. something dreadful told her that count marlanx was on the balcony and at her window, notwithstanding the rain pour. the fear became oppressive, maddening. she felt the man's presence almost as strongly as if he were in plain view. he was there, she knew it. the little revolver that had served her so valiantly at the inn of the hawk and raven lay upon a stool near the bedside every night. consumed by the fear that the window might open slowly at any moment, she reached forth and clutched the weapon. then she shrank back in the bed, her eyes fixed upon the black space across the room. for hours she shivered and waited for the window to open, dozing away time and again only to come back to wakefulness with a start. the next morning she confessed to herself that her fears had been silly. her first act after breakfasting alone in her room was to seek out colonel quinnox, commander of the castle guard. in her mind she was greatly troubled over the fate of the bold visitor of the night before. there was a warm, red glow in her face and a quick beat in her heart as she crossed the parade-ground. vagabond though he was, he had conquered where princes had failed. her better judgment told her that she could be nothing to this debonair knight of the road, yet her heart stubbornly resisted all the arguments that her reason put forth. colonel quinnox was pleasant, but he could give beverly no promise of leniency in regard to baldos. instructions had come to him from general marlanx, and he could not set them aside at will. her plea that he might once more be assigned to old-time duties found the colonel regretfully obdurate. baldos could not ride with her again until marlanx withdrew the order which now obtained, beverly swallowed her pride and resentment diplomatically, smiled her sweetest upon the distressed colonel, and marched defiantly back to the castle. down in her rebellious, insulted heart she was concocting all sorts of plans for revenge. chief among them was the terrible overthrow of the iron count. her wide scope of vengeance even contemplated the destruction of graustark if her end could be obtained in no other way. full of these bitter-sweet thoughts she came to the castle doors before she saw who was waiting for her upon the great verandah. as she mounted the steps, a preoccupied frown upon her fair brow, general marlanx, lean, crafty and confident, advanced to greet her. the early hour was responsible for the bright solitude which marked the place. but few signs of life were in evidence about the castle. she stopped with a sharp exclamation of surprise. then scorn and indignation rushed in to fill the place of astonishment. she faced the smiling old man with anger in her eyes. "good morning," he said, extending his hand, which she did not see. she was wondering how much he had seen and heard at midnight. "i thought the troops were massing this morning," she said coldly. "don't you mass, too?" "there is time enough for that, my dear. i came to have a talk with you--in private," he said meaningly. "it is sufficiently private here, count marlanx. what have you to say to me?" "i want to talk about last night. you were very reckless to do what you did." "oh, you _were_ playing the spy, then?" she asked scornfully. "an involuntary observer, believe me--and a jealous one. i had hoped to win the affections of an innocent girl. what i saw last night shocked me beyond expression." "well, you shouldn't have looked," she retorted, tossing her chin; and the red feather in her hat bobbed angrily. "i am surprised that one as clever as you are could have carried on an amour so incautiously," he said blandly. "what do you mean?" "i mean that i saw everything that occurred." "well, i'm not ashamed of it," obstinately. "good-bye, count marlanx." "one moment, please. i cannot let you off so easily. what right had you to take that man into your room, a place sacred in the palace of graustark? answer me, miss calhoun." beverly drew back in horror and bewilderment. "into my room?" she gasped. "let us waste no time in subterfuge. i saw him come from your window, and i saw all that passed between you in the balcony. love's eyes are keen. what occurred in your chamber i can only--" "stop! how dare you say such a thing to me?" she fiercely cried. "you miserable coward! you know he was not in my room. take it back--take back every word of that lie!" she was white with passion, cold with terror. "bah! this is childish. i am not the only one who _saw_ him, my dear. he was in your room--you were in his arms. it's useless to deny it. and to think that i have spared him from death to have it come to this! you need not look so horrified. your secret is safe with me. i come to make terms with you. my silence in exchange for your beauty. it's worth it to you. one word from me, you are disgraced and baldos dies. come, my fair lady, give me your promise, it's a good bargain for both." beverly was trembling like a leaf. this phase of his villainy had not occurred to her. she was like a bird trying to avoid the charmed eye of the serpent. "oh, you--you miserable wretch!" she cried, hoarse with anger and despair. "what a cur you are! you know you are not speaking the truth. how can you say such things to me? i have never wronged you--" she was almost in tears, impotent with shame and fear. "it has been a pretty game of love for you and the excellent baldos. you have deceived those who love you best and trust you most. what will the princess say when she hears of last night's merry escapade? what will she say when she learns who was hostess to a common guardsman at the midnight hour? it is no wonder that you look terrified. it is for you to say whether she is to know or not. you can bind me to silence. you have lost baldos. take me and all that i can give you in his stead, and the world never shall know the truth. you love him, i know, and there is but one way to save him. say the word and he goes free to the hills; decline and his life is not worth a breath of air." "and pretending to believe this of me, you still ask me to be your wife. what kind of a man are you?" she demanded, scarcely able to speak. "my wife?" he said harshly. "oh, no. you are not the wife of baldos," he added significantly. "good god!" gasped beverly, crushed by the brutality of it all. "i would sooner die. would to heaven my father were here, he would shoot you as he would a dog! oh, how i loathe you! don't you try to stop me! i shall go to the princess myself. she shall know what manner of beast you are." she was racing up the steps, flaming with anger and shame. "remember, i can prove what i have said. beware what you do. i love you so much that i now ask you to become my wife. think well over it. your honor and his life! it rests with you," he cried eagerly, following her to the door. "you disgusting old fool," she hissed, turning upon him as she pulled the big brass knocker on the door. "i must have my answer to-night, or you know what will happen," he snarled, but he felt in his heart that he had lost through his eagerness. she flew to yetive's boudoir, consumed by rage and mortification. between sobs and feminine maledictions she poured the whole story, in all its ugliness, into the ears of the princess. "now, yetive, you have to stand by me in this," announced the narrator conclusively, her eyes beaming hopefully through her tears. "i cannot prevent general marlanx from preferring serious charges against baldos, dear. i know he was not in your room last night. you did not have to tell me that, because i saw you both at the balcony rail." beverly's face took on such a radiant look of rejoicing that yetive was amply paid for the surprising and gratifying acknowledgment of a second period of eavesdropping. "you may depend upon me to protect you from marlanx. he can make it very unpleasant for baldos, but he shall pay dearly for this insult to you. he has gone too far." "i don't think he has any proof against baldos," said beverly, thinking only of the guardsman. "but it is so easy to manufacture evidence, my dear. the iron count has set his heart upon having you, and he is not the man to be turned aside easily." "he seems to think he can get wives as easily as he gets rid of them, i observe. i was going back to washington soon, yetive, but i'll stay on now and see this thing to the end. he can't scare a calhoun, no sir-ee. i'll telegraph for my brother dan to come over here and punch his head to pieces." "now, now,--don't be so high and mighty, dear. let us see how rational we can be," said the princess gently. whereupon the hot-headed girl from dixie suspended hostilities and became a very demure young woman. before long she was confessing timidly, then boldly, that she loved baldos better than anything in all the world. "i can't help it, yetive. i know i oughtn't to, but what is there to do when one can't help it? there would be an awful row at home if i married him. of course, he hasn't asked me. maybe he won't. in fact, i'm sure he won't. i shan't give him a chance. but if he does ask me i'll just keep putting him off. i've done it before, you know. you see, for a long, long time, i fancied he might be a prince, but he isn't at all. i've had his word for it. he's just an ordinary person--like--like--well, like i am. only he doesn't look so ordinary. isn't he handsome, yetive? and, dear me, he is so impulsive! if he had asked me to jump over the balcony rail with him last night, i believe i would have done it. wouldn't that have surprised old marlanx?" beverly gave a merry laugh. the troubles of the morning seemed to fade away under the warmth of her humor. yetive sat back and marvelled at the manner in which this blithe young american cast out the "blue devils." "you must not do anything foolish, beverly," she cautioned, "your parents would never forgive me if i allowed you to marry or even to fall in love with any tom, dick or harry over here. baldos may be the gallant, honest gentleman we believe him to be, but he also may be the worst of adventurers. one can never tell, dear. i wish now that i had not humored you in your plan to bring him to the castle. i'm afraid i have done wrong. you have seen too much of him and--oh, well, you _will_ be sensible, won't you, dear?" there was real concern in the face of the princess. beverly kissed her rapturously. "don't worry about me, yetive. i know how to take care of myself. worry about your old gabriel, if you like, but don't bother your head about me," she cried airily. "now let's talk about the war. marlanx won't do anything until he hears from me. what's the use worrying?" nightfall brought general marlanx in from the camps outside the gates. he came direct to the castle and boldly sent word to beverly that he must speak to her at once. she promptly answered that she did not want to see him and would not. without a moment's hesitation he appealed for an audience with the princess, and it was granted. he proceeded, with irate coolness, to ask how far she believed herself bound to protect the person of baldos, the guard. he understood that she was under certain obligations to miss calhoun and he wanted to be perfectly sure of his position before taking a step which now seemed imperative. baldos was a spy in the employ of dawsbergen. he had sufficient proof to warrant his arrest and execution; there were documents, and there was positive knowledge that he had conferred with strangers from time to time, even within the walls of the castle grounds. marlanx cited instances in which baldos had been seen talking to a strange old man inside the grounds, and professed to have proof that he had gone so far as to steal away by night to meet men beyond the city walls. he was now ready to seize the guard, but would not do so until he had conferred with his sovereign. "miss calhoun tells me that you have made certain proposals to her, count marlanx," said yetive coldly, her eyes upon his hawkish face. "i have asked her to be my wife, your highness." "you have threatened her, count marlanx." "she has exposed herself to you? i would not have told what i saw last night." "would it interest you to know that i saw everything that passed on the balcony last night? you will allow me to say, general, that you have behaved in a most outrageous manner in approaching my guest with such foul proposals. stop, sir! she has told me everything and i believe her. i believe my own eyes. there is no need to discuss the matter further. you have lost the right to be called a man. for the present i have only to say that you shall be relieved of the command of my army. the man who makes war on women is not fit to serve one. as for baldos, you are at liberty to prefer the charges. he shall have a fair trial, rest assured." "your highness, hear me," implored marlanx, white to the roots of his hair. "i will hear what you have to say when my husband is at my side." "i can but stand condemned, then, your highness, without a hearing. my vindication will come, however. with your permission, i retire to contrive the arrest of this spy. you may depose me, but you cannot ask me to neglect my duty to graustark. i have tried to save him for miss calhoun's sake--" but her hand was pointing to the door. ten minutes later beverly was hearing everything from the lips of the princess, and marlanx was cursing his way toward the barracks, vengeance in his heart. but a swift messenger from the castle reached the guard-room ahead of him. colonel quinnox was reading an official note from the princess when marlanx strode angrily into the room. "bring this fellow baldos to me, colonel quinnox," he said, without greeting. "i regret to say that i have but this instant received a message from her highness, commanding me to send him to the castle," said quinnox, with a smile. "the devil! what foolishness is this?" snarled the iron count. "have a care, sir," said quinnox stiffly. "it is of the princess you speak." "bah! i am here to order the man's arrest. it is more important than--" "nevertheless, sir, he goes to the castle first. this note says that i am to disregard any command you may give until further notice." marlanx fell back amazed and stunned. at this juncture baldos entered the room. quinnox handed him an envelope, telling him that it was from the princess and that he was to repair at once to the castle, baldos glanced at the handwriting, and his face lit up proudly. "i am ready to go, sir," he said, passing the iron count with a most disconcerting smile on his face. chapter xxiii a shot in the darkness baldos started off at once for the castle, his heart singing. in the darkness of the night he kissed the message which had come to him from "her highness." the envelope had been closed with the official seal of yetive, princess of graustark, and was sacred to the eyes of anyone save the man to whom it was directed. the words it contained were burned deep in his brain: "you are ordered to report for duty in the castle. come at once. her highness has sent an official command to colonel quinnox. count marlanx has been here. you are not expected to desert until you have seen me. there is an underground passage somewhere.--b." baldos went alone and swiftly. the note to colonel quinnox had been imperative. he was to serve as an inner guard until further orders. someone, it was reported, had tried to enter miss calhoun's room from the outside during the rainstorm of the previous night, and a special guard was to be stationed near the door. all of this was unknown to baldos, but he did not ask for any explanations. he was half way to the castle when the sharp report of a gun startled him. a bullet whizzed close to his ear! baldos broke into a crouching run, but did not change his course. he knew that the shot was intended for him, and that its mission was to prevent him from reaching the castle. the attendants at the castle door admitted him, panting and excited, and he was taken immediately to the enchanted boudoir of the princess which but few men were fortunate enough to enter. there were three women in the room. "i am here to report, your highness," said he, bowing low before the real princess, with a smile upon his flushed face. "you are prompt," said the princess "what have you to report, sir?" "that an attempt has just been made to kill a member of the castle guard," he coolly answered. "impossible!" "i am quite certain of it, your highness. the bullet almost clipped my ear." "good heavens!" gasped the listeners. then they eagerly plied him with more agitated questions than he could answer. "and did you not pursue the wretch?" cried the princess. "no, your highness. i was commanded to report to you at once. only the success of the assassin could have made me--well, hesitate," said he calmly. "a soldier has but to obey." "do you think there was a deliberate attempt to kill you?" asked the countess dagmar. beverly calhoun was dumb with consternation. "i cannot say, madame. possibly it was an accidental discharge. one should not make accusations unsupported. if you have no immediate need of my services, your highness, i will ask you to grant me leave of absence for half an hour. i have a peculiar longing to investigate." there was a determined gleam in his eyes. "no? no!" cried beverly. "don't you dare to go out there again. you are to stay right here in the castle, sir. we have something else for you to do. it was that awful old marlanx who shot at you. he--" "i left general marlanx in colonel quinnox's quarters, miss calhoun," interposed baldos grimly. "he could not have fired the shot. for two or three nights, your highness, i have been followed and dogged with humiliating persistence by two men wearing the uniforms of castle guards. they do not sleep at the barracks. may i ask what i have done to be submitted to such treatment?" there was a trace of poorly concealed indignation in his voice. "i assure you that this is news to me," said yetive in amazement. "i am being watched as if i were a common thief," he went on boldly. "these men are not your agents; they are not the agents of graustark. may i be permitted to say that they are spies set upon me by a man who has an object in disgracing me? who that man is, i leave to your royal conjecture." "marlanx?" "yes, your highness. he bears me a deadly grudge and yet he fears me. i know full well that he and his agents have built a strong case against me. they are almost ready to close in upon me, and they will have false evidence so craftily prepared that even my truest friends may doubt my loyalty to you and to the cause i serve. before god, i have been true to my oath. i am loyal to graustark. it was a sorry day when i left the valley and--" "oh!" cried beverly piteously. "don't say that." "alas, miss calhoun, it is true," said he sadly, "i am penned up here where i cannot fight back. treason is laid against me. but, beyond all this, i have permitted my loyalty to mislead my ambition. i have aspired to something i can cherish but never possess. better that i never should have tasted of the unattainable than to have the cup withdrawn just as its sweetness begins to intoxicate." he stood before them, pale with suppressed emotion. the women of graustark looked involuntarily at beverly, who sat cold and voiceless, staring at the face of the guard. she knew what he meant; she knew that something was expected of her. a word from her and he would understand that he had not tasted of the unattainable. in one brief moment she saw that she had deliberately led him on, that she had encouraged him, that she actually had proffered him the cup from which he had begun to sip the bitterness. pride and love were waging a conflict in this hapless southern girl's heart. but she was silent. she could not say the word. "i think i know what you mean, baldos," said yetive, seeing that beverly would not intervene. "we are sorry. no one trusts to your honor more than i do. my husband believes in you. i will confess that you are to be arrested as a spy to-morrow. to-night you are to serve as a guard in the castle. this should prove to you that i have unbounded faith in you. moreover, i believe in you to the extent that i should not be afraid to trust you if you were to go out into the world with every secret which we possess. you came here under a peculiar stress of circumstances, not wholly of your own volition. believe me, i am your friend." "i shall revere your highness forever for those words," said he simply. his eyes went hungrily to beverly's averted face, and then assumed a careless gleam which indicated that he had resigned himself to the inevitable. "i am constrained to ask you one question, sir," went on the princess. "you are not the common goat-hunter you assume. will you tell me in confidence who you really are?" the others held their breath. he hesitated for a moment. "will it suffice if i say that i am an unfortunate friend and advocate of prince dantan? i have risked everything for his sake and i fear i have lost everything. i have failed to be of service to him, but through no fault of mine. fate has been against me." "you are christobal," cried dagmar eagerly. he gave her a startled glance, but offered no denial. beverly's face was a study. if he were christobal, then what of the game-warden's daughter? "we shall question you no further," said yetive. "you enlisted to serve miss calhoun. it is for her to command you while you are here. may god be with you to the end. miss calhoun, will you tell him what his duties are for to-night? come, my dear." yetive and dagmar walked slowly from the room, leaving beverly and her guard alone. "i am at your service, miss calhoun," he said easily. his apparent indifference stung her into womanly revolt. "i was a fool last night," she said abruptly. "no; i was the fool. i have been the fool from the beginning. you shall not blame yourself, for i do not blame you. it has been a sweet comedy, a summer pastime. forget what i may have said to you last night, forget what my eyes may have said for weeks and weeks." "i shall never forget," said she. "you deserve the best in the world. would that i could give it to you. you have braved many dangers for my sake. i shall not forget. do you know that we were watched last night?" "watched?" he cried incredulously. "oh, fool that i am! i might have known. and i have subjected you to--to--don't tell me that harsh things have been said to you, miss calhoun!" he was deeply disturbed. "general marlanx saw you. he has threatened me, baldos,--" "i will kill him! what do i care for the consequences? he shall pay dearly for--" "stop! where are you going? you are to remain here, sir, and take your commands from me. i don't want you to kill him. they'd hang you or something just as bad. he's going to be punished, never fear!" baldos smiled in spite of his dismay. it was impossible to face this confident young champion in petticoats without catching her enthusiasm. "what have you done with--with that rose?" she asked suddenly, flushing and diffident. her eyes glistened with embarrassment. "it lies next my heart. i love it," he said bravely. "i think i'll command you to return it to me," vaguely. "a command to be disobeyed. it is in exchange for my feather," he smiled confidently. "well, of course, if you are going to be mean about--now, let me see," she said confusedly; "what are your duties for to-night? you are to stand guard in the corridor. once in awhile you will go out upon the balcony and take a look. you see, i am afraid of someone. oh, baldos, what's the use of my trifling like this? you are to escape from edelweiss to-night. that is the whole plan--the whole idea in a nutshell. don't look like that. don't you want to go?" now she was trembling with excitement. "i do not want to leave you," he cried eagerly. "it would be cowardly. marlanx would understand that you gave aid and sanction. you would be left to face the charges he would make. don't you see, beverly? you would be implicated--you would be accused. why did you not let me kill him? no; i will not go!" neither noticed the name by which he had called her. "but i insist," she cried weakly. "you must go away from me. i--i command you to--" "is it because you want to drive me out of your life forever?" he demanded, sudden understanding coming to him. "don't put it that way," she murmured. "is it because you care for me that you want me to go?" he insisted, drawing near. "is it because you fear the love i bear for you?" "love? you don't really--stop! remember where you are, sir! you must not go on with it, baldos. don't come a step nearer. do go to-night! it is for the best. i have been awfully wicked in letting it run on as it has. forgive me, please forgive me," she pleaded. he drew back, pale and hurt. a great dignity settled upon his face. his dark eyes crushed her with their quiet scorn. "i understand, miss calhoun. the play is over. you will find the luckless vagabond a gentleman, after all. you ask me to desert the cause i serve. that is enough. i shall go to-night." the girl was near to surrender. had it not been for the persistent fear that her proud old father might suffer from her wilfulness, she would have thrown down the barrier and risked everything in the choice. her heart was crying out hungrily for the love of this tall, mysterious soldier of fortune. "it is best," she murmured finally. later on she was to know the meaning of the peculiar smile he gave her. "i go because you dismiss me, not because i fear an enemy. if you choose to remember me at all, be just enough to believe that i am not a shameless coward." "you are brave and true and good, and i am a miserable, deceitful wretch," she lamented. "you will seek ravone and the others?" "yes. they are my friends. they love my poverty. and now, may it please your highness, when am i to go forth and in what garb? i should no longer wear the honest uniform of a graustark guard." "leave it to me. everything shall be arranged. you will be discreet? no one is to know that i am your--" "rest assured, miss calhoun. i have a close mouth," and he smiled contemptuously. "i agree with you," said she regretfully. "you know how to hold your tongue." he laughed harshly. "for once in a way, will you answer a question?" "i will not promise." "you say that you are dantan's friend. is it true that he is to marry the daughter of the duke of matz, countess iolanda?" "it has been so reported." "is she beautiful?" "yes; exceedingly." "but is he to marry her?" she insisted, she knew not why. "how should i know, your highness?" "if you call me 'your highness' again i'll despise you," she flared miserably. "another question. is it true that the young duke christobal fled because his father objected to his marriage with a game-warden's daughter?" "i have never heard so," with a touch of hauteur. "does he know that the girl is dead?" she asked cruelly. baldos did not answer for a long time. he stared at her steadily, his eyes expressing no emotion from which she could judge him. "i think he is ignorant of that calamity, miss calhoun," he said. "with your permission, i shall withdraw. there is nothing to be gained by delay." it was such a palpable affront that she shrank within herself and could have cried. without answering, she walked unsteadily to the window and looked out into the night. a mist came into her eyes. for many minutes she remained there, striving to regain control of her emotions. all this time she knew that he was standing just where she had left him, like a statue, awaiting her command. at last she faced him resolutely. "you will receive instructions as to your duties here from the guard at the stairs. when you hear the hall clock strike the hour of two in the morning go into the chapel, but do not let anyone see you or suspect. you know where it is. the door will be unlocked." "am i not to see you again?" he asked, and she did not think him properly depressed. "yes," she answered, after a pause that seemed like an eternity, and he went quietly, silently away. chapter xxiv beneath the ground while baldos was standing guard in the long, lofty hallway the iron count was busy with the machinations which were calculated to result in a startling upheaval with the break of a new day. he prepared and swore to the charges preferred against baldos. they were despatched to the princess for her perusal in the morning. then he set about preparing the vilest accusations against beverly calhoun. in his own handwriting and over his own signature he charged her with complicity in the betrayal of graustark, influenced by the desires of the lover who masqueraded as her protege. at some length he dwelt upon the well-laid plot of the spy and his accomplice. he told of their secret meetings, their outrages against the dignity of the court, and their unmistakable animosity toward graustark. for each and every count in his vicious indictment against the girl he professed to have absolute proof by means of more than one reputable witness. it was not the design of marlanx to present this document to the princess and her cabinet. he knew full well that it would meet the fate it deserved. it was intended for the eyes of beverly calhoun alone. by means of the vile accusations, false though they were, he hoped to terrorize her into submission. he longed to possess this lithe, beautiful creature from over the sea. in all his life he had not hungered for anything as he now craved beverly calhoun. he saw that his position in the army was rendered insecure by the events of the last day. a bold, vicious stroke was his only means for securing the prize he longed for more than he longed for honor and fame. restless and enraged, consumed by jealousy and fear, he hung about the castle grounds long after he had drawn the diabolical charges. he knew that baldos was inside the castle, favored, while he, a noble of the realm, was relegated to ignominy and the promise of degradation. encamped outside the city walls the army lay without a leader. each hour saw the numbers augmented by the arrival of reserves from the districts of the principality. his place was out there with the staff. yet he could not drag himself away from the charmed circle in which his prey was sleeping. morose and grim, he anxiously paced to and fro in an obscure corner of the grounds. "what keeps the scoundrel?" he said to himself angrily. presently, a villainous looking man dressed in the uniform of the guards, stealthily approached. "i missed him, general, but i will get him the next time." growled the man. "curse you for a fool!" hissed marlanx through his teeth. as another hireling came up. "what have you got to say?" the man reported that baldos had been seen on the balcony alone, evidently on watch. marlanx ground his teeth and his blood stormed his reason. "the job must be done to-night. you have your instructions. capture him if possible; but if necessary, kill him. you know your fate, if you fail." marlanx actually grinned at the thought of the punishment he would mete out to them. "now be off!" rashly he made his way to the castle front. a bright moon cast its mellow glow over the mass of stone outlined against the western sky. for an hour he glowered in the shade of the trees, giving but slight heed to the guards who passed from time to time. his eyes never left the enchanted balcony. at last he saw the man. baldos came from the floor at the end of the balcony, paced the full length in the moonlight, paused for a moment near beverly calhoun's window and then disappeared through the same door that had afforded him egress. inside the dark castle the clock at the end of the hall melodiously boomed the hour of two. dead quiet followed the soft echoes of the gong. a tall figure stealthily opened the door to yetive's chapel and stepped inside. there was a streak of moonlight through the clear window at the far end of the room. baldos, his heart beating rapidly, stood still for a moment, awaiting the next move in the game. the ghost-like figure of a woman suddenly stood before him in the path of the moonbeam, a hooded figure in dark robes. he started as if confronted by the supernatural. "come," came in an agitated whisper, and he stepped to the side of the phantom. she turned and the moonlight fell upon the face of beverly calhoun, "don't speak. follow me as quickly as you can." he grasped her arm, bringing her to a standstill. "i have changed my mind," he whispered in her ear. "do you think i will run away and leave you to shoulder the blame for all this? on the balcony near your window an hour ago i--" "it doesn't make any difference," she argued. "you have to go. i want you to go. if you knew just how i feel toward you you would go without a murmur." "you mean that you hate me," he groaned. "i wouldn't be so unkind as to say that," she fluttered. "i don't know who you are. come; we can't delay a minute. i have a key to the gate at the other end of the passage and i know where the secret panel is located. hush! it doesn't matter where i got the key. see! see how easy it is?" he felt her tense little fingers in the darkness searching for his. their hands were icy cold when the clasp came. together they stood in a niche of the wall near the chancel rail. it was dark and a cold draft of air blew across their faces. he could not see, but there was proof enough that she had opened the secret panel in the wall, and that the damp, chill air came from the underground passage, which led to a point outside the city walls. "you go first," she whispered nervously. "i'm afraid. there is a lantern on the steps and i have some matches. we'll light it as soon as--oh, what was that?" "don't be frightened," he said. "i think it was a rat." "good gracious!" she gasped. "i wouldn't go in there for the world." "do you mean to say that you intended to do so?" he asked eagerly. "certainly. someone has to return the key to the outer gate. oh, i suppose i'll have to go in. you'll keep them off, won't you?" plaintively. he was smiling in the darkness, thinking what a dear, whimsical thing she was. "with my life," he said softly. "they're ten times worse than lions," she announced. "you must not forget that you return alone," he said triumphantly. "but i'll have the lantern going full blast," she said, and then allowed him to lead her into the narrow passageway. she closed the panel and then felt about with her foot until it located the lantern. in a minute they had a light. "now, don't be afraid," she said encouragingly. he laughed in pure delight; she misunderstood his mirth and was conscious of a new and an almost unendurable pang. he was filled with exhilaration over the prospect of escape! somehow she felt an impulse to throw her arms about him and drag him back into the chapel, in spite of the ghost of the game-warden's daughter. "what is to prevent me from taking you with me?" he said intensely, a mighty longing in his breast. she laughed but drew back uneasily. "and live unhappily ever afterward?" said she. "oh, dear me! isn't this a funny proceeding? just think of me, beverly calhoun, being mixed up in schemes and plots and intrigues and all that. it seems like a great big dream. and that reminds me: you will find a raincoat at the foot of the steps. i couldn't get other clothes for you, so you'll have to wear the uniform. there's a stiff hat of mr. lorry's also. you've no idea how difficult it is for a girl to collect clothes for a man. there doesn't seem to be any real excuse for it, you know. goodness, it looks black ahead there, doesn't it? i hate underground things. they're so damp and all that. how far is it, do you suppose, to the door in the wall?" she was chattering on, simply to keep up her courage and to make her fairest show of composure. "it's a little more than three hundred yards," he replied. they were advancing through the low, narrow stone-lined passage. she steadfastly ignored the hand he held back for support. it was not a pleasant place, this underground way to the outside world. the walls were damp and mouldy; the odor of the rank earth assailed the nostrils; the air was chill and deathlike. "how do you know?" she demanded quickly. "i have traversed the passage before. miss calhoun," he replied. she stopped like one paralyzed, her eyes wide and incredulous. "franz was my guide from the outer gate into the chapel. it is easy enough to get outside the walls, but extremely difficult to return," he went on easily. "you mean to say that you have been in and out by way of this passage? then, what was your object, sir?" she demanded sternly. "my desire to communicate with friends who could not enter the city. will it interest you if i say that the particular object of my concern was a young woman?" she gasped and was stubbornly silent for a long time. bitter resentment filled her soul, bitter disappointment in this young man. "a young woman!" he had said, oh, so insolently. there could be but one inference, one conclusion. the realization of it settled one point in her mind forever. "it wouldn't interest me in the least. i don't even care who she was. permit me to wish you much joy with her. why don't you go on?" irritably, forgetting that it was she who delayed progress. his smile was invisible in the blackness above the lantern. there were no words spoken until after they had reached the little door in the wall. here the passage was wider. there were casks and chests on the floor, evidently containing articles that required instant removal from edelweiss in case of an emergency. "who was that woman?" she asked at last. the key to the door was in the nervous little hand. "one very near and dear to me. miss calhoun. that's all i can say at this time." "well, this is the only time you will have the chance," she cried loftily. "here we part. hush!" she whispered, involuntarily grasping his arm. "i think i heard a step. can anyone be following us?" they stopped and listened. it was as still as a tomb. "it must be the same old rat," he answered jokingly. she was too nervous for any pleasantries, and releasing her hold on his arm, said timidly, a "good-bye!" "am i to go in this manner? have you no kind word for me? i love you better than my soul. it is of small consequence to you, i know, but i crave one forgiving word. it may be the last." he clasped her hand and she did not withdraw it. her lips were trembling, but her eyes were brave and obstinate. suddenly she sat down upon one of the chests. if he had not told her of the other woman! "forgive me instead, for all that i have brought you to," she murmured. "it was all my fault. i shall never forget you or forgive myself. i--i am going back to washin'ton immediately. i can't bear to stay here now. good-bye, and god bless you. do--do you think we shall ever see each other again?" unconsciously she was clinging to his hand. there were tears in the gray eyes that looked pathetically up into his. she was very dear and enchanting, down there in the grewsome passageway with the fitful rays of the lantern lighting her face. only the strictest self-control kept him from seizing her in his arms, for something told him that she would have surrendered. "this is the end, i fear," he said, with grim persistence. she caught her breath in half a sob. then she arose resolutely, although her knees trembled shamelessly. "well, then, good-bye," she said very steadily. "you are free to go where and to whom you like. think of me once in awhile, baldos. here's the key. hurry! i--i can't stand it much longer!" she was ready to break down and he saw it, but he made no sign. turning the key in the rusty lock, he cautiously opened the door. the moonlit world lay beyond. a warm, intoxicating breath of fresh air came in upon them. he suddenly stooped and kissed her hand. "forgive me for having annoyed you with my poor love," he said, as he stood in the door, looking into the night beyond. "all--all right," she choked out as she started to close the door after him. "halt! you are our prisoner!" the words rang out sharply in the silence of the night. instinctively, beverly made an attempt to close the door; but she was too late. two burly, villainous looking men, sword in hand, blocked the exit and advanced upon them. "back! back!" baldos shouted to beverly, drawing his sword. like a flash, she picked up the lantern and sprang out of his way. capture or worse seemed certain; but her heart did not fail her. "put up your sword! you are under arrest!" came from the foremost of the two. he had heard enough of baldos's skill with the sword to hope that the ruse might be successful and that he would surrender peaceably to numbers. the men's instructions were to take their quarry alive if possible. the reward for the man, living, exceeded that for him dead. baldos instantly recognized them as spies employed by marlanx. they had been dogging his footsteps for days and even had tried to murder him, the desire for vengeance was working like madness in his blood. he was overjoyed at having them at the point of his sword. beverly's presence vouchsafed that he would show little mercy. "arrest me, you cowardly curs!" he exclaimed. "never!" with a spring to one side, he quickly overturned one of the casks and pushing it in front of him, it served as a rolling bulwark, preventing a joint attack. "you first!" he cried coolly, as his sword met that of the leader. the unhappy wretch was no match for the finest swordsman in graustark. he made a few desperate attempts to ward off his inevitable fate, calling loudly for his comrade to aid him. the latter was eager enough, but baldos's strategic roll of the cask effectively prevented him from taking a hand. with a vicious thrust, the blade of the goat-hunter tore clean through the man's chest and touched the wall behind. "one!" cried baldos, gloating in the chance that had come to him. the man gasped and fell. he was none too quick in withdrawing his dripping weapon, for the second man was over the obstacle and upon him. chapter xxv the valor of the south "hold the lantern higher, bev--" in the fury of the fight, he remembered the risk and importance of not mentioning her name, and stopped short. he was fighting fast but warily, for he realized that his present adversary was no mean one. as the swords played back and forth in fierce thrusts and parries, he spoke assuringly to beverly: "don't be frightened! as soon as i finish with this fellow, we will go on! ah! bravo! well parried, my man! how the deuce could such a swordsman as you become a cutthroat of marlanx?" beverly had been standing still all this time holding the light high above her head, according to her lover's orders, for she knew now that such he was and that she loved him with all her heart. she was a weird picture standing there as she watched baldos fighting for their lives, her beautiful face deathlike in its pallor. not a cry escaped her lips, as the sword-blades swished and clashed; she could hear the deep breathing of the combatants in that tomb-like passage. suddenly she started and listened keenly. from behind her, back there in the darkness, hurried footsteps were unmistakably approaching. what she had heard, then, was not the scurrying of a rat. some one was following them. a terrible anguish seized her. louder and nearer came the heavy steps. "oh, my god! baldos!" she screamed in terror, "another is coming!" "have no fear, dear one!" he sung out gaily. his voice was infinitely more cheerful than he felt, for he realized only too well the desperate situation; he was penned in and forced to meet an attack from front and rear. he fell upon his assailant with redoubled fury, aiming to finish him before the newcomer could give aid. from out of the gloom came a fiendish laugh. instantly, the dark figure of a man appeared, his face completely hidden by a broad slouch hat and the long cloak which enveloped him. a sardonic voice hissed, "trapped at last! my lady and her lover thought to escape, did they!" the voice was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere seemed charged with marlanx. "kill him, zem!" he shouted. "don't let him escape you! i will take care of the little witch, never fear!" he clutched at the girl and tried to draw her to him. "marlanx! by all the gods!" cried baldos in despair. he had wounded his man several times, though not seriously. he dared not turn to beverly's aid. the scene was thrilling, grewsome. within this narrow, dimly-lighted underground passage, with its musty walls sweating with dampness and thick with the tangled meshes of the spider's web, a brave girt and her lover struggled and fought back to back. to her dismay, beverly saw the point of a sword at her throat. "out of the way, girl," the man in the cloak snarled, furious at her resistance. "you die as well as your lover unless you surrender. he cannot escape me." "and if i refuse," cried the girl, trying desperately to gain time. "i will drive my blade through your heart and tell the world it was the deed of your lover." baldos groaned. his adversary, encouraged by the change in the situation, pressed him sorely. "don't you dare to touch me, count marlanx. i know you!" she hissed. "i know what you would do with me. it is not for graustark that you seek his life." the sword came nearer. the words died in her throat. she grew faint. terror paralyzed her. suddenly, her heart gave a great thump of joy. the resourcefulness of the trapped was surging to her relief. the valor of the south leaped into life. the exhilaration of conflict beat down all her fears. "take away that sword, then, please," she cried, her voice trembling, but not with terror now; it was exultation. "will you promise to spare his life? will you swear to let him go, if i--" "no, no, never! god forbid!" implored baldos. "ha, ha!" chuckled the man in the cloak. "spare his life! oh, yes; after my master has revelled in your charms. how do you like that, my handsome goathunter?" "you infernal scoundrel! i'll settle you yet!" baldos fairly fumed with rage. gathering himself together for a final effort, he rushed madly on his rapidly-weakening antagonist. "baldos!" she cried hopelessly and in a tone of resignation. "i must do it! it is the only way!" the man in the cloak as well as baldos was deceived by the girl's cry. he immediately lowered his sword. the lantern dropped from beverly's hands and clattered to the floor. at the same instant she drew from her pocket her revolver, which she had placed there before leaving the castle, and fired point blank at him. the report sounded like a thunder clap in their ears. it was followed quickly by a sharp cry and imprecation from the lips of her persecutor, who fell, striking his head with a terrible force on the stones. simultaneously, there was a groan and the noise of a limp body slipping to the ground, and, baldos, victor at last, turned in fear and trembling to find beverly standing unhurt staring at the black mass at her feet. "thank god! you are safe!" grasping her hand he led her out of the darkness into the moonlight. not a word was spoken as they ran swiftly on until they reached a little clump of trees, not far from one of the gates. here baldos gently released her hand. she was panting for breath; but he realized she must not be allowed to risk a moment's delay. she must pass the sentry at once. "have you the watchword?" he eagerly asked. "watchword?" she repeated feebly. "yes, the countersign for the night. it is ganlook. keep your face well covered with your hood. advance boldly to the gates and give the word. there will be no trouble. the guard is used to pleasure seekers returning at all hours of night." "is he dead?" she asked timorously, returning to the scene of horror. "only wounded, i think, as are the other men, though they all deserve death." he went with her as close to the gate as he thought safe. taking her hand he kissed it fervently. "good-bye! it won't be for long!" and disappeared. she stood still and lifeless, staring after him, for ages, it seemed. he was gone. gone forever, no doubt. her eyes grew wilder and wilder with the pity of it all. pride fled incontinently. she longed to call him back. then it occurred to her that he was hurrying off to that other woman. no, he said he would return. she must be brave, true to herself, whatever happened. she marched boldly up to the gate, gave the countersign and passed through, not heeding the curious glances cast upon her by the sentry; turned into the castle, up the grand staircase, and fled to the princess's bed-chamber. beverly, trembling and sobbing, threw herself in the arms of the princess. incoherently, she related all that had happened, then swooned. after she had been restored, the promise of yetive to protect her, whatever happened, comforted her somewhat. "it must have been marlanx," moaned beverly. "who else could it have been?" replied the princess, who was visibly excited. summoning all her courage, she went on: "first, we must find out if he is badly hurt. we'll trust to luck. cheer up!" she touched a bell. there came a knock at the door. a guard was told to enter. "ellos," she exclaimed, "did you hear a shot fired a short time ago?" "i thought i did, your highness, but was not sure." "baldos, the guard, was escaping by the secret passage," continued the princess, a wonderful inspiration coming to her rescue. "he passed through the chapel. miss calhoun was there. alone, and single-handed, she tried to prevent him. it was her duty. he refused to obey her command to stop and she followed him into the tunnel and fired at him. i'm afraid you are too late to capture him, but you may--, oh, beverly, how plucky you were to follow him! go quickly, ellos! search the tunnel and report at once." as the guard saluted, with wonder, admiration and unbelief, he saw the two conspirators locked in each other's arms. presently he returned and reported that the guards could find no trace of anyone in the tunnel, but that they found blood on the floor near the exit and that the door was wide open. the two girls looked at each other in amazement. they were dumbfounded, but a great relief was glowing in their eyes. "ellos," inquired the princess, considerably less agitated, "does any one else know of this?" "no, your highness, there was no one on guard but max, baldos, and myself." "well, for the present, no one else must know of his flight. do you understand? not a word to any one. i, myself, will explain when the proper time comes. you and max have been very careless, but i suppose you should not be punished. he has tricked us all. send max to me at once." "yes, your highness," said ellos, and he went away with his head swimming. max, the other guard, received like orders and then the two young women sank limply upon a divan. "oh, how clever you are, yetive," came from the american girl. "but what next?" "we may expect to hear something disagreeable from count marlanx, my dear," murmured the perplexed, but confident princess, "but i think we have the game in our own hands, as you would say in america." chapter xxvi the degradation of marlanx "aunt fanny, what is that white thing sticking under the window?" demanded beverly late the next morning. she was sitting with her face to the windows while the old negress dressed her hair. "looks lak a love letteh. miss bev'ly," was the answer, as aunt fanny gingerly placed an envelope in her mistress's hand. beverly looked at it in amazement. it was unmistakably a letter, addressed to her, which had been left at her window some time in the night. her heart gave a thump and she went red with anticipated pleasure. with eager fingers she tore open the envelope. the first glance at the contents brought disappointment to her face. the missive was from count marlanx; but it was a relief to find that he was very much alive and kicking. as she read on, there came a look of perplexity which was succeeded by burning indignation. the man in the cloak was preparing to strike. "your secret is mine. i know all that happened in the chapel and underground passage. you have betrayed graustark in aiding this man to escape. the plot was cleverly executed, but you counted without the jealous eye of love. you can save yourself and your honor, and perhaps your princess, but the conditions are mine. this time there can be no trifling. i want you to treat me fairly. god help you if you refuse. give me the answer i want and your secret is safe, i will shield you with my life. at eleven o'clock i shall come to see you. i have in my possession a document that will influence you. you will do well to keep a close mouth until you have seen this paper." this alarming note was all that was needed to restore fire to the lagging blood of the american girl. its effect was decidedly contrary to that which marlanx must have anticipated. instead of collapsing, beverly sprang to her feet with energy and life in every fiber. her eyes were flashing brightly, her body quivering with the sensations of battle. "that awful old wretch!" she cried, to aunt fanny's amazement. "he is the meanest human being in all the world. but he's making the mistake of his life, isn't he, aunt fanny? oh, of course you don't know what it is, so never mind. we've got a surprise for him. i'll see him at eleven o'clock, and then--" she smiled quite benignly at the thought of what she was going to say to him. beverly felt very secure in the shadow of the princess. a clatter of horses' hoofs on the parade-ground drew her to the balcony. what she saw brought joy to her heart. lorry and anguish, muddy and disheveled, were dismounting before the castle. "ah, this is joy! now there are three good americans here. i'm not afraid," she said bravely. aunt fanny nodded her head in approval, although she did not know what it was all about. curiosity more than alarm made beverly eager to see the document which old marlanx held in reserve for her. she determined to met him at eleven. a message from the princess announced the unexpected return of the two americans. she said they were (to use harry anguish's own expression) "beastly near starvation" and clamored for substantial breakfasts, beverly was urged to join them and to hear the latest news from the frontier. lorry and anguish were full of the excitement on which they had lived for many hours. they had found evidence of raids by the dawsbergen scouts and had even caught sight of a small band of fleeing horsemen. lorry reluctantly admitted that gabriel's army seemed loyal to him and that there was small hope of a conflict being averted, as he had surmised, through the defection of the people. he was surprised but not dismayed when yetive told him certain portions of the story in regard to marlanx; and, by no means averse to seeing the old man relegated to the background, heartily endorsed the step taken by his wife. he was fair enough, however, to promise the general a chance to speak in his own defense, if he so desired. he had this in view when he requested marlanx to come to the castle at eleven o'clock for consultation. "gabriel is devoting most of his energy now to hunting that poor dantan into his grave," said anguish. "i believe he'd rather kill his half-brother than conquer graustark. why, the inhuman monster has set himself to the task of obliterating everything that reminds him of dantan. we learned from spies down there that he issued an order for the death of dantan's sister, a pretty young thing named candace, because he believed she was secretly aiding her fugitive brother. she escaped from the palace in serros a week ago, and no one knows what has become of her. there's a report that she was actually killed, and that the story of her flight is a mere blind on the part of gabriel." "he would do anything," cried yetive. "poor child; they say she is like her english mother and is charming." "that would set gabriel against her, i fancy," went on anguish. "and, by the way, miss calhoun, we heard something definite about your friend, prince dantan. it is pretty well settled that he isn't baldos of the guard. dantan was seen two days ago by captain dangloss's men. he was in the dawsbergen pass and they talked with him and his men. there was no mistake this time. the poor, half-starved chap confessed to being the prince and begged for food for himself and his followers." "i tried to find him, and, failing in that, left word in the pass that if he would but cast his lot with us in this trouble we soon would restore him to his throne," said lorry. "he may accept and we shall have him turning up here some day, hungry for revenge. and now, my dear beverly, how are you progressing with the excellent baldos, of whom we cannot make a prince, no matter how hard we try?" beverly and the princess exchanged glances in which consternation was difficult to conceal. it was clear to beverly that yetive had not told her husband of the escape. "i don't know anything about baldos," she answered steadily. "last night someone shot at him in the park." "the deuce you say!" "in order to protect him until you returned, gren, i had him transferred to guard duty inside the castle," explained the princess. "it really seemed necessary. general marlanx expects to present formal charges against him this morning, so i suppose we shall have to put him in irons for a little while. it seems too bad, doesn't it, gren?" "yes. he's as straight as a string, i'll swear," said lorry emphatically. "i'll bet he wishes he were safely out of this place," ventured anguish, and two young women busied themselves suddenly with their coffee. "the chance is he's sorry he ever came into it," said lorry tantalizingly. while they were waiting for marlanx the young duke of mizrox was announced. the handsome axphainian came with relief and dismay struggling for mastery in his face. "your highness," he said, after the greetings, "i am come to inform you that graustark has one prince less to account for. axphain has found her fugitive." "when?" cried the princess and beverly in one voice and with astonishing eagerness, not unmixed with dismay. "three days ago," was the reply. "oh," came in deep relief from beverly as she sank back into her chair. the same fear had lodged in the hearts of the two fair conspirators--that they had freed baldos only to have him fall into the hands of his deadliest foes. "i have a message by courier from my uncle in axphain," said mizrox. "he says that frederic was killed near labbot by soldiers, after making a gallant fight, on last sunday night. the princess volga is rejoicing, and has amply rewarded his slayers. poor frederic! he knew but little happiness, in this life." there was a full minute of reflection before any of his hearers expressed the thought that had framed itself in every mind. "well, since dantan and frederic are accounted for, baldos is absolutely obliged to be christobal," said anguish resignedly. "he's just baldos," observed beverly, snuffing out the faint hope that had lingered so long. then she said to herself: "and i don't care, either. i only wish he were back here again. i'd be a good deal nicer to him." messengers flew back and forth, carrying orders from the castle to various quarters. the ministers were called to meet at twelve o'clock. underneath all the bustle there was a tremendous impulse of american cunning, energy and resourcefulness. everyone caught the fever. reserved old diplomats were overwhelmed by their own enthusiasm; custom-bound soldiers forgot the hereditary caution and fell into the ways of the new leaders without a murmur. the city was wild with excitement, for all believed that the war was upon them. there was but one shadow overhanging the glorious optimism of graustark--the ugly, menacing attitude of axphain. even the duke of mizrox could give no assurance that his country would remain neutral. colonel quinnox came to the castle in haste and perturbation. it was he who propounded the question that yetive and beverly were expecting: "where is baldos?" of course, the flight of the suspected guard was soon a matter of certainty. a single imploring glance from the princess, meant for the faithful quinnox alone, told him as plainly as words could have said that she had given the man his freedom. and quinnox would have died a thousand times to protect the secret of his sovereign, for had not twenty generations of quinnoxes served the rulers of graustark with unflinching loyalty? baron dangloss may have suspected the trick, but he did not so much as blink when the princess instructed him to hunt high and low for the fugitive. marlanx came at eleven. under the defiant calmness of his bearing there was lurking a mighty fear. his brain was scourged by thoughts of impending disgrace. the princess had plainly threatened his degradation. after all these years, he was to tremble with shame and humiliation; he was to cringe where he had always boasted of domineering power. and besides all this, marlanx had a bullet wound in his left shoulder! the world could not have known, for he knew how to conceal pain. he approached the slender, imperious judge in the council-chamber with a defiant leer on his face. if he went down into the depths he would drag with him the fairest treasure he had coveted in all his years of lust and desire. "a word with you," he said in an aside to beverly, as she came from the council-chamber, in which she felt she should not sit. she stopped and faced him. instinctively she looked to see if he bore evidence of a wound. she was positive that her bullet had struck him the night before, and that marlanx was the man with the cloak. "well?" she said coldly. he read her thoughts and smiled, even as his shoulder burned with pain. "i will give you the chance to save yourself. i love you. i want you. i must have you for my own," he was saying. "stop, sir! it may be your experience in life that women kneel to you when you command. it may be your habit to win what you set about to win. but you have a novel way of presenting your _devoire_, i must say. is this the way in which you won the five unfortunates whom you want me to succeed? did you scare them into submission?" "no, no! i cared nothing for them. you are the only one i ever loved--" "really, count marlanx, you are most amusing," she interrupted, with a laugh that stung him to the quick. "you have been unique in your love-making. i am not used to your methods. besides, after having known them, i'll confess that i don't like them in the least. you may have been wonderfully successful in the past, but you were not dealing with an american girl. i have had enough of your insults. go! go in and face--" "have a care, girl!" he snarled. "i have it in my power to crush you." "pooh!" came scornfully from her lips. "if you molest me further i shall call mr. lorry. let me pass!" "just glance at this paper, my beauty. i fancy you'll change your tune. it goes before the eyes of the council, unless you--" he paused significantly. beverly took the document and with dilated eyes read the revolting charges against her honor. her cheeks grew white with anger, then flushed a deep crimson. "you fiend!" she cried, glaring at him so fiercely that he instinctively shrank back, the vicious grin dying in his face. "i'll show you how much i fear you. i shall give this revolting thing to the princess. she may read it to the cabinet, for all i care. no one will believe you. they'll kill you for this!" she turned and flew into the presence of the princess and her ministers. speeding to the side of yetive, she thrust the paper into her hands. surprise and expectancy filled the eyes of all assembled. "count marlanx officially charges me with--with--read it, your highness," she cried distractedly. yetive read it, pale-faced and cold. a determined gleam appeared in her eyes as she passed the document to her husband. "allode," lorry said to an attendant, after a brief glance at its revolting contents, "ask count marlanx to appear here instantly. he is outside the door." lorry's anger was hard to control. he clenched his hands and there was a fine suggestion of throttling in the way he did it. marlanx, entering the room, saw that he was doomed. he had not expected beverly to take this appalling step. the girl, tears in her eyes, rushed to a window, hiding her face from the wondering ministers. her courage suddenly failed her. if the charges were read aloud before these men it seemed to her that she never could lift her eyes again. a mighty longing for washington, her father and the big calhoun boys, rushed to her heart as she stood there and awaited the crash. but lorry was a true nobleman. "gentlemen," he said quietly, "count marlanx has seen fit to charge miss calhoun with complicity in the flight of baldos. i will not read the charges to you. they are unworthy of one who has held the highest position in the army of graustark. he has--" "read this, my husband, before you proceed further," said yetive, thrusting into his hand a line she had written with feverish haste. lorry smiled gravely before he read aloud the brief edict which removed general marlanx from the command of the army of graustark. "is this justice?" protested marlanx angrily. "will you not give me a hearing? i beseech--" "silence!" commanded the princess. "what manner of hearing did you expect to give miss calhoun? it is enough, sir. there shall be no cowards in my army." "coward?" he faltered. "have i not proved my courage on the field of battle? am i to be called a--" "bravery should not end when the soldier quits the field of battle. you have had a hearing. count marlanx. i heard the truth about you last night." "from miss calhoun?" sneered he viciously. "i must be content to accept this dismissal, your highness. there is no hope for me. some day you may pray god to forgive you for the wrong you have done your most loyal servant. there is no appeal from your decision; but as a subject of graustark i insist that miss calhoun shall be punished for aiding in the escape of this spy and traitor. he is gone, and it was she who led him through the castle to the outer world. she cannot deny this, gentlemen. i defy her to say she did not accompany baldos through the secret passage last night." "it will do no harm to set herself right by denying this accusation," suggested count halfont solemnly. every man in the cabinet and army had hated marlanx for years. his degradation was not displeasing to them. they would ask no questions. but beverly calhoun stood staring out of the window, out upon the castle park and its gay sunshine. she did not answer, for she did not hear the premier's words. her brain was whirling madly with other thoughts. she was trying to believe her eyes. "the spy is gone," cried marlanx, seeing a faint chance to redeem himself at her expense. "she can not face my charge. where is your friend, miss calhoun?" beverly faced them with a strange, subdued calmness in her face. her heart was throbbing wildly in the shelter of this splendid disguise. "i don't know what all this commotion is about," she said. "i only know that i have been dragged into it shamelessly by that old man over there, if you step to the window you may see baldos himself. he has not fled. he is on duty!" baldos was striding steadily across the park in plain view of all. chapter xxvii the prince of dawsbergen both yetive and beverly experienced an amazing sense of relief. they did not stop to consider why or how he had returned to the castle grounds. it was sufficient that he was actually there, sound, well, and apparently satisfied. "i dare say count marlanx will withdraw his infamous charge against our guest," said lorry, with deadly directness. marlanx was mopping his damp forehead. his eyes were fastened upon the figure of the guard, and there was something like awe in their steely depths. it seemed to him that the supernatural had been enlisted against him. "he left the castle last night," he muttered, half to himself. "there seems to be no doubt of that," agreed gaspon, the grand treasurer. "colonel quinnox reports his strange disappearance." clearly the case was a puzzling one. men looked at one another in wonder and uneasiness. "i think i understand the situation," exclaimed marlanx, suddenly triumphant. "it bears out all that i have said. baldos left the castle last night, as i have sworn, but not for the purpose of escaping. he went forth to carry information to our enemies. can anyone doubt that he is a spy? has he not returned to carry out his work? and now, gentlemen, i ask you--would he return unless he felt secure of protection here?" it was a facer, yetive and beverly felt as though a steel trap suddenly had been closed down upon them. lorry and anguish were undeniably disconcerted. there was a restless, undecided movement among the ministers. "colonel quinnox, will you fetch baldos to the verandah at once?" asked lorry, his quick american perception telling him that immediate action was necessary. "it is cooler out there." he gave beverly a look of inquiry. she flushed painfully, guiltily, and he was troubled in consequence. "as a mere subject, i demand the arrest of this man," marlanx was saying excitedly. "we must go to the bottom of this hellish plot to injure graustark." "my dear count," said anguish, standing over him, "up to this time we have been unable to discern any reasons for or signs of the treachery you preach about. i don't believe we have been betrayed at all." "but i have absolute proof, sir," grated the count. "i'd advise you to produce it. we must have something to work on, you know." "what right have you to give advice, sir? you are not one of us. you are a meddler--an impertinent alien. your heart is not with graustark, as mine is. how long must we endure the insolence of these americans?" the count was fuming with anger. as might have been expected, the easy-going yankees laughed unreservedly at his taunt. the princess was pale with indignation. "count marlanx, you will confine your remarks to the man whom you have charged with treachery," she said. "you have asked for his arrest, and you are to be his accuser. at the proper time you will produce the proof. i warn you now that if you do not sustain these charges, the displeasure of the crown will fall heavily upon you." "i only ask your highness to order his arrest," he said, controlling himself. "he is of the castle guard and can be seized only on your command." "baldos is at the castle steps, your highness," said colonel quinnox from the doorway. the entire party left the council-chamber and passed out to the great stone porch. it must be confessed that the princess leaned rather heavily upon lorry's arm. she and beverly trembled with anxiety as they stood face to face with the tall guard who had come back to them so mysteriously. baldos stood at the foot of the stone steps, a guard on each side of him. one of these was the shamefaced haddan, dangloss's watchman, whose vigil had been a failure. the gaze of the suspected guard purposely avoided that of beverly calhoun. he knew that the slightest communication between them would be misunderstood and magnified by the witnesses. "baldos," said lorry, from the top step, "it has come to our ears that you left the castle surreptitiously last night. is it true that you were aided by miss calhoun?" baldos looked thankful for this eminently leading question. in a flash it gave him the key to the situation. secretly he was wondering what emotions possessed the slender accomplice who had said good-bye to him not so many hours before at the castle gate. he knew that she was amazed, puzzled by his sudden return; he wondered if she were glad. his quick wits saw that a crisis had arrived. the air was full of it. the dread of this very moment was the thing which had drawn him into the castle grounds at early dawn. he had watched for his chance to glide in unobserved, and had snatched a few hours' sleep in the shelter of the shrubbery near the park wall. "it is not true," he said clearly, in answer to lorry's question. both beverly and marlanx started as the sharp falsehood fell from his lips. "who made such an accusation?" he demanded. "count marlanx is our informant." "then count marlanx lies," came coolly from the guard. a snarl of fury burst from the throat of the deposed general. his eyes were red and his tongue was half palsied by rage. "dog! dog!" he shouted, running down the steps. "infamous dog! i swear by my soul that he--" "where is your proof, count marlanx?" sternly interrupted lorry. "you have made a serious accusation against our honored guest. it cannot be overlooked." marlanx hesitated a moment, and then threw his bomb at the feet of the conspirators. "i was in the chapel when she opened the secret panel for him." not a word was uttered for a full minute. it was beverly calhoun who spoke first. she was as calm as a spring morning. "if all this be true, count marlanx, may i ask why you, the head of graustark's army, did not intercept the spy when you had the chance?" marlanx flushed guiltily. the question had caught him unprepared. he dared not acknowledge his presence there with the hired assassins. "i--i was not in a position to restrain him," he fumbled. "you preferred to wait until he was safely gone before making the effort to protect graustark from his evil designs. is that it? what was your object in going to the chapel? to pray? besides, what right had you to enter the castle in the night?" she asked ironically. "your highness, may i be heard?" asked baldos easily. he was smiling up at yetive from the bottom of the steps. she nodded her head a trifle uneasily. "it is quite true that i left the castle by means of your secret passage last night." "there!" shrieked marlanx. "he admits that he--" "but i wish to add that count marlanx is in error when he says that miss calhoun was my accomplice. his eyes were not keen in the darkness of the sanctuary. perhaps he is not accustomed to the light one finds in a chapel at the hour of two. will your highness kindly look in the direction of the southern gate? your august gaze may fall upon the reclining figure of a boy asleep, there in the shadow of the friendly cedar. if count marlanx had looked closely enough last night he might have seen that it was a boy who went with me and not--" "fool! don't you suppose i know a woman's skirts?" cried the iron count. "better than most men, i fancy," calmly responded baldos. "my young friend wore the garments of a woman, let me add." lorry came down and grasped baldos by the arm. his eyes were stern and accusing. above, yetive and beverly had clasped hands and were looking on dumbly. what did baldos mean? "then, you did go through the passage? and you were accompanied by this boy, a stranger? how comes this, sir?" demanded lorry. every eye was accusing the guard at this juncture. the men were descending the steps as if to surround him. "it is not the first time that i have gone through the passage, sir," said baldos, amused by the looks of consternation. "i'd advise you to close it. its secret is known to more than one person. it is known, by the way, to prince gabriel of dawsbergen. it is known to every member of the band with which miss calhoun found me when she was a princess. count marlanx is quite right when he says that i have gone in and out of the castle grounds from time to time. he is right when he says that i have communicated with men inside and outside of these grounds. but he is wrong when he accuses miss calhoun of being responsible for or even aware of my reprehensible conduct. she knew nothing of all this, as you may judge by taking a look at her face at this instant." beverly's face was a study in emotions. she was looking at him with dilated eyes. pain and disappointment were concentrated in their expressive gray depths; indignation was struggling to master the love and pity that had lurked in her face all along. it required but a single glance to convince the most skeptical that she was ignorant of these astounding movements on the part of her protege. again every eye was turned upon the bold, smiling guardsman. "i have been bitterly deceived in you," said lorry, genuine pain in his voice. "we trusted you implicitly. i didn't think it of you, baldos. after all, it is honorable of you to expose so thoroughly your own infamy in order to acquit an innocent person who believed in you. you did not have to come back to the castle. you might have escaped punishment by using miss calhoun as a shield from her highness's wrath. but none the less you compel me to give countenance to all that count marlanx has said." "i insist that it was miss calhoun who went through the panel with him," said marlanx eagerly. "if it was this boy who accompanied you, what was his excuse in returning to the castle after you had fled?" "he came back to watch over miss calhoun while she slept. it was my sworn duty to guard her from the man who had accused her. this boy is a member of the band to which i belong and he watched while i went forth on a pretty business of my own. it will be useless to ask what that business was. i will not tell. nor will the boy. you may kill us, but our secrets die with us. this much i will say: we have done nothing disloyal to graustark. you may believe me or not. it has been necessary for me to communicate with my friends, and i found the means soon after my arrival here. all the foxes that live in the hills have not four legs," he concluded significantly. "you are a marvel!" exclaimed lorry, and there was real admiration in his voice. "i'm sorry you were fool enough to come back and get caught like this. don't look surprised, gentlemen, for i believe that in your hearts you admire him quite as much as i do." the faint smile that went the rounds was confirmation enough. nearly every man there had been trained in english-speaking lands and not a word of the conversation had been missed. "i expected to be arrested, mr. lorry," said baldos calmly. "i knew that the warrant awaited me. i knew that my flight of last night was no secret. i came back willingly, gladly, your highness, and now i am ready to face my accuser. there is nothing for me to fear." "and after you have confessed to all these actions? by george, i like your nerve," exclaimed lorry. "i have been amply vindicated," cried marlanx. "put him in irons--and that boy, too." "we'll interview the boy," said lorry, remembering the lad beneath the tree. "see; he's sleeping so sweetly," said baldos gently. "poor lad, he has not known sleep for many hour. i suppose he'll have to be awakened, poor little beggar." colonel quinnox and haddan crossed the grounds to the big cedar. the boy sprang to his feet at their call and looked wildly about. two big hands clasped his arms, and a moment later the slight figure came pathetically across the intervening space between the stalwart guards. "why has he remained here, certain of arrest?" demanded lorry in surprise. "he was safer with me than anywhere else, mr. lorry. you may shoot me a thousand times, but i implore you to deal gently with my unhappy friend. he has done no wrong. the clothes you see upon that trembling figure are torturing the poor heart more than you can know. the burning flush upon that cheek is the red of modesty. your highness and gentlemen, i ask you to have pity on this gentle friend of mine." he threw his arm about the shoulder of the slight figure as it drooped against him. "count marlanx was right. it was a woman he saw with me in the chapel last night." the sensation created by this simple statement was staggering. the flushed face was unmistakably that of a young girl, a tender, modest thing that shrank before the eyes of a grim audience. womanly instinct impelled yetive to shield the timid masquerader. her strange association with baldos was not of enough consequence in the eyes of this tender ruler to check the impulse of gentleness that swept over her. that the girl was guiltless of any wrong-doing was plain to be seen. her eyes, her face, her trembling figure furnished proof conclusive. the dark looks of the men were softened when the arm of the princess went about the stranger and drew her close. "bah! some wanton or other!" sneered marlanx. "but a pretty one, by the gods. baldos has always shown his good taste." baldos glared at him like a tiger restrained. "before god, you will have those words to unsay," he hissed. yetive felt the slight body of the girl quiver and then grow tense. the eyes of baldos now were fixed on the white, drawn face of beverly calhoun, who stood quite alone at the top of the steps. she began to sway dizzily and he saw that she was about to fall. springing away from the guards, he dashed up the steps to her side. his arm caught her as she swayed, and its touch restored strength to her--the strength of resentment and defiance. "don't!" she whispered hoarsely. "have courage," he murmured softly. "it will all be well. there is no danger." "so this is the woman!" she cried bitterly. "yes. you alone are dearer to me than she," he uttered hurriedly. "i can't believe a word you say." "you will, beverly. i love you. that is why i came back. i could not leave you to meet it alone. was i not right? let them put me into irons--let them kill me--" "come!" cried colonel quinnox, reaching his side at this instant. "the girl will be cared for. you are a prisoner." "wait!" implored beverly, light suddenly breaking in upon her. "please wait, colonel quinnox." he hesitated, his broad shoulders between her and the gaping crowd below. she saw with grateful heart that yetive and lorry were holding the steps as if against a warlike foe. "is she--is she your wife?" "good heavens, no!" gasped baldos. "your sweetheart?" piteously. "she is the sister of the man i serve so poorly," he whispered. quinnox allowed them to walk a few paces down the flagging, away from the curious gaze of the persons below. "oh, baldos!" she cried, her heart suddenly melting. "is she prince dantan's sister?" her hand clasped his convulsively, as he nodded assent. "now i _do_ love you." "thank god!" he whispered joyously. "i knew it, but i was afraid you never would speak the words. i am happy--i am wild with joy." "but they may shoot you," she shuddered. "you have condemned yourself. oh, i cannot talk to you as i want to--out here before all these people. don't move, colonel quinnox--they can't see through you. please stand still." "they will not shoot me, beverly, dear. i am not a spy," said baldos, looking down into the eyes of the slender boyish figure who stood beside the princess. "it is better that i should die, however," he went on bitterly. "life will not be worth living without you. you would not give yourself to the lowly, humble hunter, so i--" "i will marry you, paul. i love you. can't anything be done to--" "it is bound to come out all right in the end," he cried, throwing up his head to drink in the new joy of living. "they will find that i have done nothing to injure graustark. wait, dearest, until the day gives up its news. it will not be long in coming. ah, this promise of yours gives me new life, new joy. i could shout it from the housetops!" "but don't!" she cried nervously. "how does she happen to be here with you? tell me, paul. oh, isn't she a dear?" "you shall know everything in time. watch over her, dearest. i have lied today for you, but it was a lie i loved. care for her if you love me. when i am free and in favor again you will--ah!" he broke off suddenly with an exclamation. his eyes were bent eagerly on the circle of trees just beyond the parade-ground. then his hand clasped hers in one spasmodic grip of relief. an instant later he was towering, with head bare, at the top of the steps, his hand pointed dramatically toward the trees. ravone, still in his ragged uniform, haggard but eager, was standing like a gaunt spectre in the sunlight that flooded the terrace. the vagabond, with the eyes of all upon him, raised and lowered his arms thrice, and the face of baldos became radiant. "your highness," he cried to yetive, waving his hand toward the stranger, "i have the honor to announce the prince of dawsbergen." chapter xxviii a boy disappears this startling announcement threw the company into the greatest excitement. baldos ran down the steps and to the side of the astonished princess. "prince dantan!" she cried, unbelieving. he pushed the boyish figure aside and whispered earnestly into yetive's ear. she smiled warmly in response, and her eyes sparkled. "and this, your highness, is his sister, the princess candace," he announced aloud, bowing low before the girl. at that instant she ceased to be the timid, cringing boy. her chin went up in truly regal state as she calmly, even haughtily, responded to the dazed, half-earnest salutes of the men. with a rare smile--a knowing one in which mischief was paramount--she spoke to baldos, giving him her hand to kiss. "ah, dear baldos, you have achieved your sweetest triumph--the theatrical climax to all this time of plotting. my brother's sister loves you for all this. your highness," and she turned to yetive with a captivating smile, "is the luckless sister of dantan welcome in your castle? may i rest here in peace? it has been a bitterly long year, this past week," she sighed. fatigue shot back into her sweet face, and yetive's love went out to her unreservedly. as she drew the slight figure up the steps she turned and said to her ministers: "i shall be glad to receive prince dantan in the throne-room, without delay. i am going to put the princess to bed." "your highness," said baldos from below, "may i be the first to announce to you that there will be no war with dawsbergen?" this was too much. even marlanx looked at his enemy with something like collapse in his eyes. "what do you mean?" cried lorry, seizing him by the arm. "i mean that prince dantan is here to announce the recapture of gabriel, his half-brother. before the hour is past your own men from the dungeon in the mountains will come to report the return of the fugitive. this announcement may explain in a measure the conduct that has earned for me the accusation which confronts me. the men who have retaken gabriel are the members of that little band you have heard so much about. once i was its captain, prince dantan's chief of staff--the commander of his ragged army of twelve. miss calhoun and fate brought me into edelweiss, but my loyalty to the object espoused by our glorious little army has never wavered. without me they have succeeded in tricking and trapping gabriel. it is more than the great army of graustark could do. your highness will pardon the boast under the circumstances?" "if this is true, you have accomplished a miracle," exclaimed lorry, profoundly agitated. "but can it be true? i can't believe it. it is too good. it is too utterly improbable. is that really prince dantan?" "assuming that it is dantan, grenfall," said yetive, "i fancy it is not courteous in us to let him stand over there all alone and ignored. go to him, please." with that she passed through the doors, accompanied by beverly and the young princess. lorry and others went to greet the emaciated visitor in rags and tags. colonel quinnox and baron dangloss looked at one another in doubt and uncertainty. what were they to do with baldos, the prisoner? "you are asking yourself what is to be done with me," said baldos easily. "the order is for my arrest. only the princess can annul it. she has retired on a mission of love and tenderness. i would not have her disturbed. there is nothing left for you to do but to place me in a cell. i am quite ready, colonel quinnox. you will be wise to put me in a place where i cannot hoodwink you further. you do not bear me a grudge?" he laughed so buoyantly, so fearlessly that quinnox forgave him everything. dangloss chuckled, an unheard-of condescension on his part. "we shall meet again, count marlanx. you were not far wrong in your accusations against me, but you have much to account for in another direction." "this is all a clever trick," cried the iron count. "but you shall find me ready to accommodate you when the time comes." at this juncture lorry and count halfont came up with ravone. baldos would have knelt before his ruler had not the worn, sickly young man restrained him. "your hand, captain baldos," he said. "most loyal of friends. you have won far more than the honor and love i can bestow upon you. they tell me you are a prisoner, a suspected traitor. it shall be my duty and joy to explain your motives and your actions. have no fear. the hour will be short and the fruit much the sweeter for the bitterness." "thunder!" muttered harry anguish. "you don't intend to slap him into a cell, do you, gren?" baldos overheard the remark. "i prefer that course, sir, until it has been clearly established that all i have said to you is the truth. count marlanx must be satisfied," said he. "and, baldos, is all well with her?" asked the one we have known as ravone. "she is being put to bed," said baldos, with a laugh so jolly that ravone's lean face was wreathed in a sympathetic smile. "i am ready, gentlemen." he marched gallantly away between the guards, followed by dangloss and colonel quinnox. naturally the graustark leaders were cautious, even skeptical. they awaited confirmation of the glorious news with varying emotions. the shock produced by the appearance of prince dantan in the person of the ascetic ravone was almost stupefying. even beverly, who knew the vagabond better than all the others, had not dreamed of ravone as the fugitive prince. secretly she had hoped as long as she could that baldos would prove, after all, to be no other than dantan. this hope had dwindled to nothing, however, and she was quite prepared for the revelation. she now saw that he was just what he professed to be--a brave but humble friend of the young sovereign; and she was happy in the knowledge that she loved him for what he was and not for what he might have been. "he is my truest friend," said ravone, as they led baldos away. "i am called ravone, gentlemen, and i am content to be known by that name until better fortune gives me the right to use another. you can hardly expect a thing in rags to be called a prince. there is much to be accomplished, much to be forgiven, before there is a prince dantan of dawsbergen again." "you are faint and week," said lorry, suddenly perceiving his plight. "the hospitality of the castle is yours. the promise we made a few days ago holds good. her highness will be proud to receive you when you are ready to come to the throne-room. i am grenfall lorry. come, sir; rest and refresh yourself in our gladdened home. an hour ago we were making ready to rush into battle; but your astonishing but welcome news is calculated to change every plan we have made." "undoubtedly, sir, it will. dawsbergen hardly will make a fight to release gabriel. he is safe in your dungeons. if they want him now, they must come to your strongholds. they will not do it, believe me," said ravone simply. "alas, i am faint and sore, as you suspect. may i lie down for an hour or two? in that time you will have heard from your wardens and my story will be substantiated. then i shall be ready to accept your hospitality as it is proffered. outside your city gates my humble followers lie starving. my only prayer is that you will send them cheer and succor." no time was lost in sending to the gates for the strollers who had accomplished the marvel of the day. the news of gabriel's capture was kept from the city's inhabitants until verification came from the proper sources, but those in control of the affairs of state were certain that ravone's story was true. all operations came to a standstill. the movements of the army were checked. everything lay quiescent under the shock of this startling climax. "hang it," growled anguish, with a quizzical grin, as ravone departed under the guidance of count halfont himself, "this knocks me galley-west. i'd like to have had a hand in it. it must have been great. how the devil do you think that miserable little gang of tramps pulled it off?" "harry," said lorry disgustedly, "they taught us a trick or two." while the young princess was being cared for by yetive's own maids in one of the daintiest bedchambers of the castle, beverly was engaged in writing a brief but pointed letter to her aunt josephine, who was still in st. petersburg. she had persistently refused to visit edelweiss, but had written many imperative letters commanding her niece to return to the russian capital. beverly now was recalling her scattered wits in the effort to appease her aunt and her father at the same time. major calhoun emphatically had ordered her to rejoin her aunt and start for america at once. yesterday beverly would have begun packing for the trip home. now she was eager to remain in graustark indefinitely. she was so thrilled by joy and excitement that she scarcely could hold the pen. "father says the united states papers are full of awful war scares from the balkans. are we a part of the balkans, yetive?" she asked of yetive, with a puzzled frown, emphasizing the pronoun unconsciously. "he says i'm to come right off home. says he'll not pay a nickel of ransom if the brigands catch me, as they did miss stone and that woman who had the baby. he says mother is worried half to death. i'm just going to cable him that it's all off. because he says if war breaks out he's going to send my brother dan over here to get me. i'm having aunt josephine send him this cablegram from st. petersburg: 'they never fight in balkans. just scare each other. skip headlines, father dear. will be home soon. beverly.' how does that sound? it will cost a lot, but he brought it upon his own head. and we're not in the balkans, anyway. aunt joe will have a fit. please call an a. d. t. boy, princess. i want to send this message to st. petersburg." when candace entered the princess's boudoir half an hour later, she was far from being the timid youth who first came to the notice of the graustark cabinet. she was now attired in one of beverly's gowns, and it was most becoming to her. her short curly brown hair was done up properly; her pink and white complexion was as clear as cream, now that the dust of the road was gone; her dark eyes were glowing with the wonder and interest of nineteen years, and she was, all in all, a most enticing bit of femininity. "you are much more of a princess now than when i first saw you," smiled yetive, drawing her down upon the cushions of the window-seat beside her. candace was shy and diffident, despite her proper habiliments. "but she was such a pretty boy," protested dagmar. "you don't know how attractive you were in those--" candace blushed. "oh, they were awful, but they were comfortable. one has to wear trousers if one intends to be a vagabond. i wore them for more than a week." "you shall tell us all about it," said yetive, holding the girl's hand in hers. "it must have been a most interesting week for you." "oh, there is not much to tell, your highness," said candace, suddenly reticent and shy. "my step-brother--oh, how i hate him--had condemned me to die because he thought i was helping dantan. and i _was_ helping him, too,--all that i could. old bappo, master of the stables, who has loved me for a hundred years, he says, helped me to escape from the palace at night. they were to have seized me the next morning. bappo has been master of the stables for more than forty years. dear old bappo! he procured the boy's clothing for me and his two sons accompanied me to the hills, where i soon found my brother and his men. we saw your scouts and talked to them a day or two after i became a member of the band. bappo's boys are with the band now. but my brother dantan shall tell you of that. i was so frightened i could not tell what was going am. i have lived in the open air for a week, but i love it. dantan's friends are all heroes. you will love them. yesterday old franz brought a message into the castle grounds. it told captain baldos of the plan to seize gabriel, who was in the hills near your city. didn't you know of that? oh, we knew it two days ago. baldos knew it yesterday. he met us at four o'clock this morning;--that is part of us. i was sent on with franz so that i should not see bloodshed if it came to the worst. we were near the city gates baldos came straight to us. isn't it funny that you never knew all these things? then at daybreak baldos insisted on bringing me here to await the news from the pass. it was safer, and besides, he said he had another object in coming back at once." beverly flushed warmly. the three women were crowding about the narrator, eagerly drinking in her naive story. "we came in through one of the big gates and not through the underground passage. that was a fib," said candace, looking from one to the other with a perfectly delicious twinkle in her eye. the conspirators gulped and smiled guiltily. "baldos says there is a very mean old man here who is tormenting the fairy princess--not the real princess, you know. he came back to protect her, which was very brave of him, i am sure. where is my brother?" she asked, suddenly anxious. "he is with friends. don't be alarmed, dear," said yetive. "he is changing clothes, too? he needs clothes worse than i needed these. does he say positively that gabriel has been captured?" "yes. did you not know of it?" "i was sure it would happen. you know i was not with them in the pass." yetive was reflecting, a soft smile in her eyes. "i was thinking of the time when i wore men's clothes," she said. "unlike yours, mine were most uncomfortable. it was when i aided mr. lorry in escaping from the tower. i wore a guard's uniform and rode miles with him in a dark carriage before he discovered the truth." she blushed at the remembrance of that trying hour. "and i wore boy's clothes at a girl's party once--my brother dan's," said beverly. "the hostess's brothers came home unexpectedly and i had to sit behind a bookcase for an hour. i didn't see much fun in boy's clothes." "you ought to wear them for a week," said candace, wise in experience. "they are not so bad when you become accustomed to them--that is, if they're strong and not so tight that they--" "you all love baldos, don't you?" interrupted yetive. it was with difficulty that the listeners suppressed their smiles. "better than anyone else. he is our idol. oh, your highness, if what he says is true that old man must be a fiend. baldos a spy! why, he has not slept day or night for fear that we would not capture gabriel so that he might be cleared of the charge without appealing to--to my brother. he has always been loyal to you," the girl said with eager eloquence. "i know, dear, and i have known all along. he will be honorably acquitted. count marlanx was overzealous. he has not been wholly wrong, i must say in justice to him--" "how can you uphold him, yetive, after what he has said about me?" cried beverly, with blazing eyes. "beverly, beverly, you know i don't mean that. he has been a cowardly villain so far as you are concerned and he shall be punished, never fear. i cannot condone that one amazing piece of wickedness on his part." "you, then, are the girl baldos talks so much about?" cried candace eagerly. "you are miss calhoun, the fairy princess? i am so glad to know you." the young princess clasped beverly's hand and looked into her eyes with admiration and approval. beverly could have crushed her in her arms. the sounds of shouting came up to the windows from below. outside, men were rushing to and fro and there were signs of mighty demonstrations at the gates. "the people have heard of the capture," said candace, as calmly as though she were asking one to have a cup of tea. there was a pounding at the boudoir door. it flew open unceremoniously and in rushed lorry, followed by anguish. in the hallway beyond a group of noblemen conversed excitedly with the women of the castle. "the report from the dungeons, yetive," cried lorry joyously. "the warden says that gabriel is in his cell again! here's to prince dantan!" ravone was standing in the door. candace ran over and leaped into his arms. chapter xxix the capture of gabriel ravone was handsome in his borrowed clothes. he was now the clean, immaculate gentleman instead of the wretched vagabond of the hills. even beverly was surprised at the change in him. his erstwhile sad and melancholy face was flushed and bright with happiness. the kiss he bestowed upon the delighted candace was tender in the extreme. then, putting her aside he strode over and gallantly kissed the hand of graustark's princess, beaming an ecstatic smile upon the merry beverly an instant later. "welcome, prince dantan," said yetive, "a thousand times welcome." "all graustark is your throne, most glorious yetive. that is why i have asked to be presented here and not in the royal hall below," said ravone. "you will wait here with us, then, to hear the good news from our warden," said the princess. "send the courier to me," she commanded. "such sweet news should be received in the place which is dearest to me in all graustark." the ministers and the lords and ladies of the castle were assembled in the room when baron dangloss appeared with the courier from the prison. count marlanx was missing. he was on his way to the fortress, a crushed, furious, impotent old man. in his quarters he was to sit and wait for the blow that he knew could not be averted. in fear and despair, hiding his pain and his shame, he was racking his brain for means to lessen the force of that blow. he could withdraw the charges against baldos, but he could not soften the words he had said and written of beverly calhoun. he was not troubling himself with fear because of the adventures in the chapel and passage. he knew too well how yetive could punish when her heart was bitter against an evil-doer. graustark honored and protected its women. the warden of the dungeons from which gabriel had escaped months before reported to the princess that the prisoner was again in custody. briefly he related that a party of men led by prince dantan had appeared early that day bringing the fugitive prince, uninjured, but crazed by rage and disappointment. they had tricked him into following them through the hills, intent upon slaying his brother dantan. there could be no mistake as to gabriel's identity. in conclusion, the warden implored her highness to send troops up to guard the prison in the mountain-side. he feared an attack in force by gabriel's army. "your highness," said lorry, "i have sent instructions to colonel braze, requiring him to take a large force of men into the pass to guard the prison. gabriel shall not escape again, though all dawsbergen comes after him." "you have but little to fear from dawsbergen," said ravone, who was seated near the princess. candace at his side. "messages have been brought to me from the leading nobles of dawsbergen, assuring me that the populace is secretly eager for the old reign to be resumed. only the desperate fear of gabriel and a few of his bloody but loyal advisers holds them in check. believe me, dawsbergen's efforts to release gabriel will be perfunctory and halfhearted in the extreme. he ruled like a madman. it was his intense, implacable desire to kill his brother that led to his undoing. will it be strange, your highness, if dawsbergen welcomes the return of dantan in his stead?" "the story! the story of his capture! tell us the story," came eagerly from those assembled. ravone leaned back languidly, his face tired and drawn once more, as if the mere recalling of the hardships past was hard to bear. "first, your highness, may i advise you and your cabinet to send another ultimatum to the people of dawsbergen?" he asked. "this time say to them that you hold two dawsbergen princes in your hand. one cannot and will not be restored to them. the other will be released on demand. let the embassy be directed to meet the duke of matz, the premier. he is now with the army, not far from your frontier. may it please your highness, i have myself taken the liberty of despatching three trusted followers with the news of gabriel's capture. the two bappos and carl vandos are now speeding to the frontier. your embassy will find the duke of matz in possession of all the facts." "the duke of matz, i am reliably informed, some day is to be father-in-law to dawsbergen," smilingly said yetive. "i shall not wonder if he responds most favorably to an ultimatum." ravone and candace exchanged glances of amusement, the latter breaking into a deplorable little gurgle of laughter. "i beg to inform you that the duke's daughter has disdained the offer from the crown," said ravone. "she has married lieutenant alsanol, of the royal artillery, and is as happy as a butterfly. captain baldos could have told you how the wayward young woman defied her father and laughed at the beggar prince." "captain baldos is an exceedingly discreet person," beverly volunteered. "he has told no tales out of school." "i am reminded of the fact that you gave your purse into my keeping one memorable day--the day when we parted from our best of friends at ganlook's gates. i thought you were a princess, and you did not know that i understood english. that was a sore hour for us. baldos was our life, the heart of our enterprise. gabriel hates him as he hates his own brother. steadfastly has baldos refused to join us in the plot to seize prince gabriel. he once took an oath to kill him on sight, and i was so opposed to this that he had to be left out of the final adventures." "please tell us how you succeeded in capturing that--your half-brother," cried beverly, forgetting that it was another's place to make the request. the audience drew near, eagerly attentive. "at another time i shall rejoice in telling the story in detail. for the present let me ask you to be satisfied with the statement that we tricked him by means of letters into the insane hope that he could capture and slay his half-brother. captain baldos suggested the plan. had he been arrested yesterday, i feel that it would have failed. gabriel was and is insane. we led him a chase through the graustark hills until the time was ripe for the final act. his small band of followers fled at our sudden attack, and he was taken almost without a struggle, not ten miles from the city of edelweiss. in his mad ravings we learned that his chief desire was to kill his brother and sister and after that to carry out the plan that has long been in his mind. he was coming to edelweiss for the sole purpose of entering the castle by the underground passage, with murder in his heart. gabriel was coming to kill the princess yetive and mr. lorry. he has never forgotten the love he bore for the princess, nor the hatred he owes his rival. it was the duty of captain baldos to see that he did not enter the passage in the event that he eluded us in the hills." later in the day the princess yetive received from the gaunt, hawkish old man in the fortress a signed statement, withdrawing his charges against baldos the guard. marlanx did not ask for leniency; it was not in him to plead. if the humble withdrawal of charges against baldos could mitigate the punishment he knew yetive would impose, all well and good. if it went for naught, he was prepared for the worst. down there in his quarters, with wine before him, he sat and waited for the end. he knew that there was but one fate for the man, great or small, who attacked a woman in graustark. his only hope was that the princess might make an exception in the case of one who had been the head of the army--but the hope was too small to cherish. baldos walked forth a free man, the plaudits of the people in his ears. baron dangloss and colonel quinnox were beside the tall guard as he came forward to receive the commendations and apologies of graustark's ruler and the warm promises of reward from the man he served. he knelt before the two rulers who were holding court on the veranda. the cheers of nobles, the shouts of soldiery, the exclamations of the ladies did not turn his confident head. he was the born knight. the look of triumph that he bestowed upon beverly calhoun, who lounged gracefully beside the stone balustrade, brought the red flying to her cheeks. he took something from his breast and held it gallantly to his lips, before all the assembled courtiers. beverly knew that it was a faded rose! chapter xxx in the grotto the next morning a royal messenger came to count marlanx. he bore two sealed letters from the princess. one briefly informed him that general braze was his successor as commander-in-chief of the army of graustark. he hesitated long before opening the other. it was equally brief and to the point. the iron count's teeth came together with a savage snap as he read the signature of the princess at the end. there was no recourse. she had struck for beverly calhoun. he looked at his watch. it was eleven o'clock. the edict gave him twenty-four hours from the noon of that day. the gray old libertine despatched a messenger for his man of affairs, a lawyer of high standing in edelweiss. together they consulted until midnight. shortly after daybreak the morning following. count marlanx was in the train for vienna, never to set foot on graustark's soil again. he was banished and his estates confiscated by the government. the ministry in edelweiss was not slow to reopen negotiations with dawsbergen. a proclamation was sent to the prime minister, setting forth the new order of affairs and suggesting the instant suspension of hostile preparations and the restoration of prince dantan. accompanying this proclamation went a dignified message from dantan, informing his people that he awaited their commands. he was ready to resume the throne that had been so desecrated. it would be his joy to restore dawsbergen to its once peaceful and prosperous condition. in the meantime the duke of mizrox despatched the news to the princess volga of axphain, who was forced to abandon--temporarily, at least--her desperate designs upon graustark. the capture of gabriel put an end to her transparent plans. "but she is bound to break out against us sooner or later and on the slightest provocation," said yetive. "i daresay that a friendly alliance between graustark and dawsbergen will prove sufficient to check any ambitions she may have along that line," said ravone significantly. "they are very near to each other now, your highness. friends should stand together." beverly calhoun was in suspense. baldos had been sent off to the frontier by prince dantan, carrying the message which could be trusted to no other. he accompanied the graustark ambassadors of peace as dantan's special agent. he went in the night time and beverly did not see him. the week which followed his departure was the longest she ever spent. she was troubled in her heart for fear that he might not return, despite the declaration she had made to him in one hysterical moment. it was difficult for her to keep up the show of cheerfulness that was expected of her. reticence became her strongest characteristic. she persistently refused to be drawn into a discussion of her relations with the absent one. yetive was piqued by her manner at first, but wisely saw through the mask as time went on. she and prince dantan had many quiet and interesting chats concerning beverly and the erstwhile guard. the prince took lorry and the princess into his confidence. he told them all there was to tell about his dashing friend and companion. beverly and the young princess candace became fast and loving friends. the young girl's worship of her brother was beautiful to behold. she huddled close to him on every occasion, and her dark eyes bespoke adoration whenever his name was mentioned in her presence. "if he doesn't come back pretty soon, i'll pack up and start for home," beverly said to herself resentfully one day. "then if he wants to see me he'll have to come all the way to washington. and i'm not sure that he can do it, either. he's too disgustingly poor." "wha's became o' dat misteh baldos, miss bev'ly?" asked aunt fanny in the midst of these sorry cogitations. "has he tuck hit int' his haid to desert us fo' good? seems to me he'd oughteh--" "now, that will do, aunt fanny," reprimanded her mistress sternly. "you are not supposed to know anything about affairs of state. so don't ask." at last she no longer could curb her impatience and anxiety. she deliberately sought information from prince dantan. they were strolling in the park on the seventh day of her inquisition. "have you heard from paul baldos?" she asked, bravely plunging into deep water. "he is expected here tomorrow or the next day, miss calhoun. i am almost as eager to see him as you are," he replied, with a very pointed smile. "almost? well, yes, i'll confess that i am eager to see him. i never knew i could long for anyone as much as i--oh, well, there's no use hiding it from you. i couldn't if i tried. i care very much for him. you don't think it sounds silly for me to say such a thing, do you? i've thought a great deal of him ever since the night at the inn of the hawk and raven. in my imagination i have tried to strip you of your princely robes to place them upon him. but he is only baldos, in spite of it all. he knows that i care for him, and i know that he cares for me. perhaps he has told you." "yes, he has confessed that he loves you, miss calhoun, and he laments the fact that his love seems hopeless. paul wonders in his heart if it would be right in him to ask you to give up all you have of wealth and pleasure to share a humble lot with him." "i love him. isn't that enough? there is no wealth so great as that. but," and she pursed her mouth in pathetic despair, "don't you think that you can make a noble or something of him and give him a station in life worthy of his ambitions? he has done so much for you, you know." "i have nothing that i can give to him, he says. paul baldos asks only that he may be my champion until these negotiations are ended. then he desires to be free to serve whom he will. all that i can do is to let him have his way. he is a freelance and he asks no favors, no help." "well, i think he's perfectly ridiculous about it, don't you? and yet, that is the very thing i like in him. i am only wondering how we--i mean, how he is going to live, that's all." "if i am correctly informed he still has several months to serve in the service for which he enlisted. you alone, i believe, have the power to discharge him before his term expires," said he meaningly. that night baldos returned to edelweiss, ahead of the graustark delegation which was coming the next day with representatives from dawsbergen. he brought the most glorious news from the frontier. the duke of matz and the leading dignitaries had heard of gabriel's capture, both through the bappo boys and through a few of his henchmen who had staggered into camp after the disaster. the news threw the dawsbergen diplomats into a deplorable state of uncertainty. even the men high in authority, while not especially depressed over the fall of their sovereign, were in doubt as to what would be the next move in their series of tragedies. almost to a man they regretted the folly which had drawn them into the net with gabriel. baldos reported that the duke of matz and a dozen of the most distinguished men in dawsbergen were on their way to edelweiss to complete arrangements for peace and to lay their renunciation of gabriel before dantan in a neutral court. the people of dawsbergen had been clamoring long for dantan's restoration, and baldos was commissioned to say that his return would be the signal for great rejoicing. he was closeted until after midnight with dantan and his sister. lorry and princess yetive being called in at the end to hear and approve of the manifesto prepared by the prince of dawsbergen. the next morning the word went forth that a great banquet was to be given in the castle that night for prince dantan and the approaching noblemen. the prince expected to depart almost immediately thereafter to resume the throne in serros. baldos was wandering through the park early in the morning. his duties rested lightly upon his shoulders, but he was restless and dissatisfied. the longing in his heart urged him to turn his eyes ever and anon toward the balcony and then to the obstinate-looking castle doors. the uniform of a graustark guard still graced his splendid figure. at last a graceful form was seen coming from the castle toward the cedars. she walked bravely, but aimlessly. that was plain to be seen. it was evident that she was and was not looking for someone. baldos observed with a thrill of delight that a certain red feather stood up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat. he liked the way her dark-blue walking-skirt swished in harmony with her lithe, firm strides. she was quite near before he advanced from his place among the trees. he did not expect her to exhibit surprise or confusion and he was not disappointed. she was as cool as a brisk spring morning. he did not offer his hand, but, with a fine smile of contentment, bowed low and with mock servility. "i report for duty, your highness," he said. she caught the ring of gladness in his voice. "then i command you to shake hands with me," she said brightly. "you have been away, i believe?" with a delicious inflection. "yes, for a century or more, i'm sure." constraint fell upon them suddenly. the hour had come for a definite understanding and both were conquered by its importance. for the first time in his life he knew the meaning of diffidence. it came over him as he looked helplessly into the clear, gray, earnest eyes. "i love you for wearing that red feather," he said simply. "and i loved you for wearing it," she answered, her voice soft and thrilling. he caught his breath joyously. "beverly," as he bent over her, "you are my very life, my--" "don't, paul!" she whispered, drawing away with an embarrassed glance about the park. there were people to be seen on all sides. but he had forgotten them. he thought only of the girl who ruled his heart. seeing the pain in his face, she hastily, even blushingly, said: "it is so public, dear." he straightened himself with soldierly precision, but his voice trembled as he tried to speak calmly in defiance to his eyes. "there is the grotto--see! it is seclusion itself. will you come with me? i must tell you all that is in my heart. it will burst if i do not." slowly they made their way to the fairy grotto deep in the thicket of trees. it was yetive's favorite dreaming place. dark and cool and musical with the rippling of waters, it was an ideal retreat. she dropped upon the rustic bench that stood against the moss-covered wall of boulders. with the gentle reserve of a man who reveres as well as loves, baldos stood above her. he waited and she understood. how unlike most impatient lovers he was! "you may sit beside me," she said with a wistful smile of acknowledgment. as he flung himself into the seat, his hand eagerly sought hers, his courtly reserve gone to the winds. "beverly, dearest one, you never can know how much i love you," he whispered into her ear. "it is a deathless love, unconquerable, unalterable. it is in my blood to love forever. listen to me, dear one: i come of a race whose love is hot and enduring. my people from time immemorial have loved as no other people have loved. they have killed and slaughtered for the sake of the glorious passion. love is the religion of my people. you must, you shall believe me when i say that i will love you better than my soul so long as that soul exists. i loved you the day i met you. it has been worship since that time." his passion carried her resistlessly away as the great waves sweep the deck of a ship at sea. she was out in the ocean of love, far from all else that was dear to her, far from all harbors save the mysterious one to which his passion was piloting her through a storm of emotion. "i have longed so to hold you in my arms, beverly--even when you were a princess and i lay in the hospital at ganlook, my fevered arms hungered for you. there never has been a moment that my heart has not been reaching out in search of yours. you have glorified me, dearest, by the promise you made a week ago. i know that you will not renounce that precious pledge. it is in your eyes now--the eyes i shall worship to the end of eternity. tell me, though, with your own lips, your own voice, that you will be my wife, mine to hold forever." for answer she placed her arms about his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. there were tears in her gray eyes and there was a sob in her throat. he held her close to his breast for an eternity, it seemed to both, neither giving voice to the song their hearts were singing. there was no other world than the fairy grotto. "sweetheart, i am asking you to make a great sacrifice," he said at last, his voice hoarse but tender. she looked up into his face serenely. "can you give up the joys, the wealth, the comforts of that home across the sea to share a lowly cottage with me and my love? wait, dear,--do not speak until i am through. you must think of what your friends will say. the love and life i offer you now will not be like that which you always have known. it will be poverty and the dregs, not riches and wine. it will be--" but she placed her hand upon his lips, shaking her head emphatically. the picture he was painting was the same one that she had studied for days and days. its every shadow was familiar to her, its every unwholesome corner was as plain as day. "the rest of the world may think what it likes, paul," she said. "it will make no difference to me. i have awakened from my dream. my dream prince is gone, and i find that it's the real man that i love. what would you have me do? give you up because you are poor? or would you have me go up the ladder of fame and prosperity with you, a humble but adoring burden? i know you, dear. you will not always be poor. they may say what they like. i have thought long and well, because i am not a fool. it is the american girl who marries the titled foreigner without love that is a fool. marrying a poor man is too serious a business to be handled by fools. i have written to my father, telling him that i am going to marry you," she announced. he gasped with unbelief. "you have--already?" he cried. "of course. my mind has been made up for more than a week. i told it to aunt fanny last night." "and she?" "she almost died, that's all," said she unblushingly. "i was afraid to cable the news to father. he might stop me if he knew it in time. a letter was much smarter." "you dear, dear little sacrifice," he cried tenderly. "i will give all my life to make you happy." "i am a soldier's daughter, and i can be a soldier's wife. i have tried hard to give you up, paul, but i couldn't. you are love's soldier, dear, and it is a--a relief to surrender and have it over with." they fell to discussing plans for the future. it all went smoothly and airily until he asked her when he should go to washington to claim her as his wife. she gave him a startled, puzzled look. "to washington?" she murmured, turning very cold and weak. "you--you won't have to go to washington, dear; i'll stay here." "my dear beverly, i can afford the trip," he laughed. "i am not an absolute pauper. besides, it is right and just that your father should give you to me. it is the custom of our land." she was nervous and uncertain. "but--but, paul, there are many things to think of," she faltered. "you mean that your father would not consent?" "well,--he--he might be unreasonable," she stammered. "and then there are my brothers, keith and dan. they are foolishly interested in me. dan thinks no one is good enough for me. so does keith. and father, too, for that matter,--and mother. you see, it's not just as if you were a grand and wealthy nobleman. they may not understand. we are southerners, you know. some of them have peculiar ideas about--" "don't distress yourself so much, dearest," he said with a laugh. "though i see your position clearly--and it is not an enviable one." "we can go to washington just as soon as we are married," she compromised. "father has a great deal of influence over there. with his help behind you you will soon be a power in the united--" but his hearty laugh checked her eager plotting. "it's nothing to laugh at, paul," she said. "i beg your pardon a thousand times. i was thinking of the disappointment i must give you now. i cannot live in the united states--never. my home is here. i am not born for the strife of your land. they have soldiers enough and better than i. it is in the turbulent east that we shall live--you and i." tears came into her eyes. "am i not to--to go back to washin'ton?" she tried to smile. "when prince dantan says we may, perhaps." "oh, he is my friend," she cried in great relief. "i can get any favor i ask of him. oh, paul, paul, i know that my folks will think i'm an awful fool, but i can't help it. i shall let you know that i intend to be a blissful one, at least." he kissed her time and again, out there in the dark, soft light of the fairy grotto. "before we can be married, dearest, i have a journey of some importance to take," he announced, as they arose to leave the bower behind. "a journey? where?" "to vienna. i have an account to settle with a man who has just taken up his residence there." his hand went to his sword-hilt and his dark eyes gleamed with the fire she loved. "count marlanx and i have postponed business to attend to, dearest. have no fear for me. my sword is honest and i shall bring it back to you myself." she shuddered and knew that it would be as he said. chapter xxxi clear skies the duke of matz and his associates reached edelweiss in the afternoon. their attendants and servants carried luggage bearing the princely crest of dawsbergen, and meant for prince dantan and his sister candace. in the part of the castle set apart for the visitors an important consultation was held behind closed doors. there dantan met his countrymen and permitted them to renew the pledge of fealty that had been shattered by the overpowering influence of his mad half-brother. what took place at this secret meeting the outside world never knew. only the happy result was made known. prince dantan was to resume his reign over dawsbergen, as if it never had been interrupted. the castle, brilliant from bottom to top, filled with music and laughter, experienced a riot of happiness such as it had not known in years. the war clouds had lifted, the sunshine of contentment was breaking through the darkness, and there was rejoicing in the hearts of all. bright and glorious were the colors that made up the harmony of peace. men and women of high degree came to the historic old walls, garbed in the riches of royalty and nobility. to beverly calhoun it was the most enchanting sight she had ever looked upon. from the galleries she gazed down into the halls glittering with the wealth of graustark and was conscious of a strange feeling of glorification. she felt that she had a part in this jubilee. with candace she descended the grand staircase and mingled with the resplendent crowd. she was the center of attraction. dressed in a simple, close-fitting gown of black velvet, without an ornament, her white arms and shoulders gleaming in the soft light from the chandeliers, she was an enticing creature to be admired by men and women alike. two stalwart americans felt their hearts bound with pride as they saw the conquest their countrywoman was making. candace, her constant companion in these days, was consumed with delight. "you are the prettiest thing in all this world," she ecstatically whispered into beverly's ear. "my brother says so, too," she added conclusively. beverly was too true a woman not to revel in this subtle flattery. the great banquet hall was to be thrown open at midnight. there was dancing and song during the hours leading up to this important event. beverly was entranced. she had seen brilliant affairs at home, but none of them compared to this in regal splendor. it was the sensuous, overpowering splendor of the east. prince dantan joined the throng just before midnight. he made his way direct to the little circle of which beverly and candace formed the center. his rich, full military costume gave him a new distinction that quite overcame beverly. they fell into an animated conversation, exchanging shafts of wit that greatly amused those who could understand the language. "you must remember," beverly said in reply to one of ravone's sallies, "that americans are not in the least awed by europe's greatness. it has come to the pass when we call europe our playground. we now go to europe as we go to the circus or the county fair at home. it isn't much more trouble, you know, and we must see the sights." "alas, poor europe!" he laughed. as he strolled about with her and candace he pointed out certain men to her, asking her to tax her memory in the effort to recall their faces if not their apparel. she readily recognized in the lean, tired faces the men she had met first at the inn of the hawk and raven. "they were vagabonds then, miss calhoun. now they are noblemen. does the transition startle you?" "isn't baldos among them?" she asked, voicing the query that had been uppermost in her mind since the moment when she looked down from the galleries and failed to see him. she was wondering how he would appear in court costume. "you forget that baldos is only a guard," he said kindly. "he is a courtier, nevertheless," she retorted. she was vaguely disappointed because he was missing from the scene of splendor. it proved to her that caste overcame all else in the rock-ribbed east. the common man, no matter how valiant, had no place in such affairs as these. her pride was suffering. she was as a queen among the noblest of the realm. as the wife of baldos she would live in another world--on the outskirts of this one of splendor and arrogance. a stubborn, defiant little frown appeared on her brow as she pictured herself in her mind's eye standing afar off with "the man" baldos, looking at the opulence she could not reach. her impetuous, rebellious little heart was thumping bitterly as she considered this single phase of the life to come. she was ready to cry out against the injustice of it all. the little frown was portentous of deep-laid designs. she would break down this cruel barrier that kept baldos from the fields over which prejudice alone held sway. her love for him and her determination to be his wife were not in the least dulled by these reflections. the doors to the great banquet-hall were thrown open at last and in the disorder that followed she wondered who was to lead her to the feasting. the duke of mizrox claimed the princess candace. "i am to have the honor," said someone at her side, and the voice was the one she least expected to hear utter the words. the speaker was the man who deserved the place beside yetive--prince dantan himself. bewildered, her heart palpitating with various emotions, she took his arm and allowed herself to be drawn wonderingly through the massive doors. as they entered, followed by the brilliant company, the superb orchestra that beverly had so often enjoyed, began to play the stirring "hands across the sea." the musicians themselves seemed to have caught the universal feeling of joy and mirth that was in the air, and played as if inspired, their leader bowing low to the young american girl as she passed. it was his affectionate tribute to her. prince dantan, to her amazement, led her up the entire length of the banquet hall, to the head of the royal table, gorgeous with the plate of a hundred graustark rulers, placing her on his left and next to the slightly raised royal chairs. candace was on his right, the picture of happiness. beverly felt dizzy, weak. she looked helplessly at prince dantan. his smile was puzzling. as if in a daze, she saw grenfall lorry with the countess yvonne standing exactly opposite to her, he with the others, awaiting the appearance of the princess and the one who was to sit beside her. the music ceased, there was a hush over the room, and then yetive came forward, magnificent in her royal robes, smiling and happy. a tall man in the uniform of an exalted army officer stood beside her, gold braid and bejeweled things across his breast. beverly turned deathly white, her figure stiffened and then relaxed. it was baldos! she never knew how she dropped into the chair the servant held for her. she only knew that his dark eyes were smiling at her with love and mischief in their depths. there was a vague, uncertain sound of chattering; someone was talking eagerly to her, but she heard him not; there was a standing toast to the prince of dawsbergen; then the audacious ghost of baldos was proposing a ringing response to the princess yetive; the orchestra was playing the graustark and dawsbergen national hymns. but it was all as a dream to her. at last she heard candace calling to her, her face wreathed in smiles. scores of eyes seemed to be looking at her and all of them were full of amusement. "now, say that a girl can't keep a secret," came to her ears from the radiant sister of dantan. ravone, at her side, spoke to her, and she turned to him dizzily. "you first knew me as ravone, miss calhoun," he was saying genially. "then it became necessary, by royal command, for me to be prince dantan. may i have the honor of introducing myself in the proper person? i am christobal of rapp-thorburg, and i shall be no other than he hereafter. the friendship that binds me to prince dantan, at last in his proper place beside the princess of graustark, is to be strengthened into a dearer relationship before many days have passed." "the princess candace ceases to be his sister," volunteered the duke of mizrox. "she is and long has been his affianced wife." enchanted and confused over all that had occurred in the last few moments, beverly murmured her heartfelt congratulations to the joyous couple. the orchestra had again ceased playing. all eyes turned to baldos,--the real prince dantan,--who, glass in hand, rose to his feet. "your royal highness, ladies and gentlemen: graustark and dawsbergen are entering a new era. i pledge you my honor that never again shall the slightest misunderstanding exist between them. they shall go forth to their glorious destiny as one people. your gracious ruler has seen fit to bestow her hand and affections upon an american gentleman, your esteemed prince consort. we all know how loyally the people have approved her choice. there is one present, a trusted friend of your beautiful princess, and lovingly called in your hearts, beverly of graustark. whose example more worthy for me to follow than that of the princess yetive? with whom could i better share my throne and please you more than with your beloved american protege. i ask you to drink a toast to my betrothed, beverly calhoun, the future princess of dawsbergen." every glass was raised and the toast drunk amidst ringing cheers. the military band crashed out the air so dear to all americans, especially to southern hearts. beverly was too overcome to speak. "you all--!" she exclaimed. there was a tremendous commotion in the gallery. people were standing in their seats half frightened and amused, their attention attracted by the unusual scene. a portly negress totally unconscious of the sensation she was causing, her feet keeping time to the lively strains of music, was frantically waving a red and yellow bandanna handkerchief. it was aunt fanny, and in a voice that could be heard all over the banquet hall, she shouted: "good lawd, honey, ef der ain't playin' 'away down south in dixie,' hooray! hooray!" * * * * * hours later beverly was running, confused and humbled, through the halls to her room, when a swifter one than she came up and checked her flight. "beverly," cried an eager voice. she slackened her pace and glanced over her shoulder. the smiling, triumphant face of baldos met her gaze. the upper hall was almost clear of people. she was strangely frightened, distressingly diffident. her door was not far away, and she would have reached it in an instant later had he not laid a restraining, compelling hand upon her arm. then she turned to face him, her lips parted in protest. "don't look at me in that way," he cried imploringly. "come, dearest, come with me. we can be alone in the nook at the end of the hall. heavens, i am the happiest being in all the world. it has turned out as i have prayed it should." she allowed him to lead her to the darkened nook. in her soul she was wondering why her tongue was so powerless. there were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but now that the moment had come she was voiceless. she only could look helplessly at him. joy seemed to be paralyzed within her; it was as if she slept and could not be awakened. as she sank upon the cushion he dropped to his knee before her, his hand clasping hers with a fervor that thrilled her with life. as he spoke, her pulses quickened and the blood began to race furiously. "i have won your love, beverly, by the fairest means. there has never been an hour in which i have not been struggling for this glorious end. you gave yourself to me when you knew i could be nothing more than the humblest soldier. it was the sacrifice of love. you will forgive my presumption--my very insolence, dear one, when i tell you that my soul is the forfeit i pay. it is yours through all eternity. i love you. i can give you the riches of the world as well as the wealth of the heart. the vagabond dies; your poor humble follower gives way to the supplicating prince. you would have lived in a cot as the guardsman's wife; you will take the royal palace instead?" beverly was herself again. the spell was gone. her eyes swam with happiness and love; the suffering her pride had sustained was swept into a heap labeled romance, and she was rejoicing. "i hated you to-night, i thought," she cried, taking his face in her hands. "it looked as though you had played a trick on me. it was mean, dear. i couldn't help thinking that you had used me as a plaything and it--it made me furious. but it is different now. i see, oh, so plainly. and just as i had resigned myself to the thought of spending the rest of my life in a cottage, away outside the pale of this glorious life! oh, it is like a fairy tale!" "ah, but it was not altogether a trick, dear one. there was no assurance that i could regain the throne--not until the very last. without it i should have been the beggar instead of the prince. we would have lived in a hovel, after all. fortune was with me, i deceived you for months, beverly--my beverly, but it was for the best. in defense of my honor and dignity, however, i must tell you that the princess has known for many days that i am dantan. i told her the truth when christobal came that day with the news. it was all well enough for me to pass myself off as a vagabond, but it would have been unpardonable to foist him upon her as the prince." "and she has known for a week?" cried beverly in deep chagrin. "and the whole court has known." "i alone was blind?" "as blind as the proverb. thank god, i won your love as a vagabond. i can treasure it as the richest of my princely possessions. you have not said that you will go to my castle with me, dear." she leaned forward unsteadily and he took her in his eager arms. their lips met and their eyes closed in the ecstasy of bliss. after a long time she lifted her lids and her eyes of gray looked solemnly into his dark ones. "i have much to ask you about, many explanations to demand, sir," she said threateningly. "by the rose that shields my heart, you shall have the truth," he laughed back at her. "i am still your servant. my enlistment is endless. i shall always serve your highness." "your highness!" she murmured reflectively. then a joyous smile of realization broke over her face. "isn't it wonderful?" "do you think your brothers will let me come to washington, now?" he asked teasingly. "it does seem different, doesn't it?" she murmured, with a strange little smile, "you _will_ come for me?" "to the ends of the earth, your highness." transcribed from the rider and co. edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org the lady of the shroud by bram stoker author of "dracula," "the jewel of seven stars," "the mystery of the sea," etc. london rider and co. printed in great britain _copyright_, _london_, , _by bram stoker_ _all rights reserved_ to my dear old friend the comtesse de guerbel (genevieve ward) from "the journal of occultism" mid-january, . a strange story comes from the adriatic. it appears that on the night of the th, as the italia steamship company's vessel "victorine" was passing a little before midnight the point known as "the spear of ivan," on the coast of the blue mountains, the attention of the captain, then on the bridge, was called by the look-out man to a tiny floating light close inshore. it is the custom of some south-going ships to run close to the spear of ivan in fine weather, as the water is deep, and there is no settled current; also there are no outlying rocks. indeed, some years ago the local steamers had become accustomed to hug the shore here so closely that an intimation was sent from lloyd's that any mischance under the circumstances would not be included in ordinary sea risks. captain mirolani is one of those who insist on a wholesome distance from the promontory being kept; but on his attention having been called to the circumstance reported, he thought it well to investigate it, as it might be some case of personal distress. accordingly, he had the engines slowed down, and edged cautiously in towards shore. he was joined on the bridge by two of his officers, signori falamano and destilia, and by one passenger on board, mr. peter caulfield, whose reports of spiritual phenomena in remote places are well known to the readers of "the journal of occultism." the following account of the strange occurrence written by him, and attested by the signatures of captain mirolani and the other gentleman named, has been sent to us. " . . . it was eleven minutes before twelve midnight on saturday, the th day of january, , when i saw the strange sight off the headland known as the spear of ivan on the coast of the land of the blue mountains. it was a fine night, and i stood right on the bows of the ship, where there was nothing to obstruct my view. we were some distance from the spear of ivan, passing from northern to southern point of the wide bay into which it projects. captain mirolani, the master, is a very careful seaman, and gives on his journeys a wide berth to the bay which is tabooed by lloyd's. but when he saw in the moonlight, though far off, a tiny white figure of a woman drifting on some strange current in a small boat, on the prow of which rested a faint light (to me it looked like a corpse-candle!), he thought it might be some person in distress, and began to cautiously edge towards it. two of his officers were with him on the bridge--signori falamano and destilia. all these three, as well as myself, saw it. the rest of the crew and passengers were below. as we got close the true inwardness of it became apparent to me; but the mariners did not seem to realize till the very last. this is, after all, not strange, for none of them had either knowledge or experience in occult matters, whereas for over thirty years i have made a special study of this subject, and have gone to and fro over the earth investigating to the nth all records of spiritual phenomena. as i could see from their movements that the officers did not comprehend that which was so apparent to myself, i took care not to enlighten them, lest such should result in the changing of the vessel's course before i should be near enough to make accurate observation. all turned out as i wished--at least, nearly so--as shall be seen. being in the bow, i had, of course, a better view than from the bridge. presently i made out that the boat, which had all along seemed to be of a queer shape, was none other than a _coffin_, and that the woman standing up in it was clothed in a shroud. her back was towards us, and she had evidently not heard our approach. as we were creeping along slowly, the engines were almost noiseless, and there was hardly a ripple as our fore-foot cut the dark water. suddenly there was a wild cry from the bridge--italians are certainly very excitable; hoarse commands were given to the quartermaster at the wheel; the engine-room bell clanged. on the instant, as it seemed, the ship's head began to swing round to starboard; full steam ahead was in action, and before one could understand, the apparition was fading in the distance. the last thing i saw was the flash of a white face with dark, burning eyes as the figure sank down into the coffin--just as mist or smoke disappears under a breeze." book i: the will of roger melton the reading of the will of roger melton and all that followed record made by ernest roger halbard melton, law-student of the inner temple, eldest son of ernest halbard melton, eldest son of ernest melton, elder brother of the said roger melton and his next of kin. i consider it at least useful--perhaps necessary--to have a complete and accurate record of all pertaining to the will of my late grand-uncle roger melton. to which end let me put down the various members of his family, and explain some of their occupations and idiosyncrasies. my father, ernest halbard melton, was the only son of ernest melton, eldest son of sir geoffrey halbard melton of humcroft, in the shire of salop, a justice of the peace, and at one time sheriff. my great-grandfather, sir geoffrey, had inherited a small estate from his father, roger melton. in his time, by the way, the name was spelled milton; but my great-great-grandfather changed the spelling to the later form, as he was a practical man not given to sentiment, and feared lest he should in the public eye be confused with others belonging to the family of a radical person called milton, who wrote poetry and was some sort of official in the time of cromwell, whilst we are conservatives. the same practical spirit which originated the change in the spelling of the family name inclined him to go into business. so he became, whilst still young, a tanner and leather-dresser. he utilized for the purpose the ponds and streams, and also the oak-woods on his estate--torraby in suffolk. he made a fine business, and accumulated a considerable fortune, with a part of which he purchased the shropshire estate, which he entailed, and to which i am therefore heir-apparent. sir geoffrey had, in addition to my grandfather, three sons and a daughter, the latter being born twenty years after her youngest brother. these sons were: geoffrey, who died without issue, having been killed in the indian mutiny at meerut in , at which he took up a sword, though a civilian, to fight for his life; roger (to whom i shall refer presently); and john--the latter, like geoffrey, dying unmarried. out of sir geoffrey's family of five, therefore, only three have to be considered: my grandfather, who had three children, two of whom, a son and a daughter, died young, leaving only my father, roger and patience. patience, who was born in , married an irishman of the name of sellenger--which was the usual way of pronouncing the name of st. leger, or, as they spelled it, sent leger--restored by later generations to the still older form. he was a reckless, dare-devil sort of fellow, then a captain in the lancers, a man not without the quality of bravery--he won the victoria cross at the battle of amoaful in the ashantee campaign. but i fear he lacked the seriousness and steadfast strenuous purpose which my father always says marks the character of our own family. he ran through nearly all of his patrimony--never a very large one; and had it not been for my grand-aunt's little fortune, his days, had he lived, must have ended in comparative poverty. comparative, not actual; for the meltons, who are persons of considerable pride, would not have tolerated a poverty-stricken branch of the family. we don't think much of that lot--any of us. fortunately, my great-aunt patience had only one child, and the premature decease of captain st. leger (as i prefer to call the name) did not allow of the possibility of her having more. she did not marry again, though my grandmother tried several times to arrange an alliance for her. she was, i am told, always a stiff, uppish person, who would not yield herself to the wisdom of her superiors. her own child was a son, who seemed to take his character rather from his father's family than from my own. he was a wastrel and a rolling stone, always in scrapes at school, and always wanting to do ridiculous things. my father, as head of the house and his own senior by eighteen years, tried often to admonish him; but his perversity of spirit and his truculence were such that he had to desist. indeed, i have heard my father say that he sometimes threatened his life. a desperate character he was, and almost devoid of reverence. no one, not even my father, had any influence--good influence, of course, i mean--over him, except his mother, who was of my family; and also a woman who lived with her--a sort of governess--aunt, he called her. the way of it was this: captain st. leger had a younger brother, who made an improvident marriage with a scotch girl when they were both very young. they had nothing to live on except what the reckless lancer gave them, for he had next to nothing himself, and she was "bare"--which is, i understand, the indelicate scottish way of expressing lack of fortune. she was, however, i understand, of an old and somewhat good family, though broken in fortune--to use an expression which, however, could hardly be used precisely in regard to a family or a person who never had fortune to be broken in! it was so far well that the mackelpies--that was the maiden name of mrs. st. leger--were reputable--so far as fighting was concerned. it would have been too humiliating to have allied to our family, even on the distaff side, a family both poor and of no account. fighting alone does not make a family, i think. soldiers are not everything, though they think they are. we have had in our family men who fought; but i never heard of any of them who fought because they _wanted_ to. mrs. st. leger had a sister; fortunately there were only those two children in the family, or else they would all have had to be supported by the money of my family. mr. st. leger, who was only a subaltern, was killed at maiwand; and his wife was left a beggar. fortunately, however, she died--her sister spread a story that it was from the shock and grief--before the child which she expected was born. this all happened when my cousin--or, rather, my father's cousin, my first-cousin-once-removed, to be accurate--was still a very small child. his mother then sent for miss mackelpie, her brother-in-law's sister-in-law, to come and live with her, which she did--beggars can't be choosers; and she helped to bring up young st. leger. i remember once my father giving me a sovereign for making a witty remark about her. i was quite a boy then, not more than thirteen; but our family were always clever from the very beginning of life, and father was telling me about the st. leger family. my family hadn't, of course, seen anything of them since captain st. leger died--the circle to which we belong don't care for poor relations--and was explaining where miss mackelpie came in. she must have been a sort of nursery governess, for mrs. st. leger once told him that she helped her to educate the child. "then, father," i said, "if she helped to educate the child she ought to have been called miss macskelpie!" when my first-cousin-once-removed, rupert, was twelve years old, his mother died, and he was in the dolefuls about it for more than a year. miss mackelpie kept on living with him all the same. catch her quitting! that sort don't go into the poor-house when they can keep out! my father, being head of the family, was, of course, one of the trustees, and his uncle roger, brother of the testator, another. the third was general mackelpie, a poverty-stricken scotch laird who had a lot of valueless land at croom, in ross-shire. i remember father gave me a new ten-pound note when i interrupted him whilst he was telling me of the incident of young st. leger's improvidence by remarking that he was in error as to the land. from what i had heard of mackelpie's estate, it was productive of one thing; when he asked me "what?" i answered "mortgages!" father, i knew, had bought, not long before, a lot of them at what a college friend of mine from chicago used to call "cut-throat" price. when i remonstrated with my father for buying them at all, and so injuring the family estate which i was to inherit, he gave me an answer, the astuteness of which i have never forgotten. "i did it so that i might keep my hand on the bold general, in case he should ever prove troublesome. and if the worst should ever come to the worst, croom is a good country for grouse and stags!" my father can see as far as most men! when my cousin--i shall call him cousin henceforth in this record, lest it might seem to any unkind person who might hereafter read it that i wished to taunt rupert st. leger with his somewhat obscure position, in reiterating his real distance in kinship with my family--when my cousin, rupert st. leger, wished to commit a certain idiotic act of financial folly, he approached my father on the subject, arriving at our estate, humcroft, at an inconvenient time, without permission, not having had even the decent courtesy to say he was coming. i was then a little chap of six years old, but i could not help noticing his mean appearance. he was all dusty and dishevelled. when my father saw him--i came into the study with him--he said in a horrified voice: "good god!" he was further shocked when the boy brusquely acknowledged, in reply to my father's greeting, that he had travelled third class. of course, none of my family ever go anything but first class; even the servants go second. my father was really angry when he said he had walked up from the station. "a nice spectacle for my tenants and my tradesmen! to see my--my--a kinsman of my house, howsoever remote, trudging like a tramp on the road to my estate! why, my avenue is two miles and a perch! no wonder you are filthy and insolent!" rupert--really, i cannot call him cousin here--was exceedingly impertinent to my father. "i walked, sir, because i had no money; but i assure you i did not mean to be insolent. i simply came here because i wished to ask your advice and assistance, not because you are an important person, and have a long avenue--as i know to my cost--but simply because you are one of my trustees." "_your_ trustees, sirrah!" said my father, interrupting him. "your trustees?" "i beg your pardon, sir," he said, quite quietly. "i meant the trustees of my dear mother's will." "and what, may i ask you," said father, "do you want in the way of advice from one of the trustees of your dear mother's will?" rupert got very red, and was going to say something rude--i knew it from his look--but he stopped, and said in the same gentle way: "i want your advice, sir, as to the best way of doing something which i wish to do, and, as i am under age, cannot do myself. it must be done through the trustees of my mother's will." "and the assistance for which you wish?" said father, putting his hand in his pocket. i know what that action means when i am talking to him. "the assistance i want," said rupert, getting redder than ever, "is from my--the trustee also. to carry out what i want to do." "and what may that be?" asked my father. "i would like, sir, to make over to my aunt janet--" my father interrupted him by asking--he had evidently remembered my jest: "miss macskelpie?" rupert got still redder, and i turned away; i didn't quite wish that he should see me laughing. he went on quietly: "_mackelpie_, sir! miss janet mackelpie, my aunt, who has always been so kind to me, and whom my mother loved--i want to have made over to her the money which my dear mother left to me." father doubtless wished to have the matter take a less serious turn, for rupert's eyes were all shiny with tears which had not fallen; so after a little pause he said, with indignation, which i knew was simulated: "have you forgotten your mother so soon, rupert, that you wish to give away the very last gift which she bestowed on you?" rupert was sitting, but he jumped up and stood opposite my father with his fist clenched. he was quite pale now, and his eyes looked so fierce that i thought he would do my father an injury. he spoke in a voice which did not seem like his own, it was so strong and deep. "sir!" he roared out. i suppose, if i was a writer, which, thank god, i am not--i have no need to follow a menial occupation--i would call it "thundered." "thundered" is a longer word than "roared," and would, of course, help to gain the penny which a writer gets for a line. father got pale too, and stood quite still. rupert looked at him steadily for quite half a minute--it seemed longer at the time--and suddenly smiled and said, as he sat down again: "sorry. but, of course, you don't understand such things." then he went on talking before father had time to say a word. "let us get back to business. as you do not seem to follow me, let me explain that it is _because_ i do not forget that i wish to do this. i remember my dear mother's wish to make aunt janet happy, and would like to do as she did." "_aunt_ janet?" said father, very properly sneering at his ignorance. "she is not your aunt. why, even her sister, who was married to your uncle, was only your aunt by courtesy." i could not help feeling that rupert meant to be rude to my father, though his words were quite polite. if i had been as much bigger than him as he was than me, i should have flown at him; but he was a very big boy for his age. i am myself rather thin. mother says thinness is an "appanage of birth." "my aunt janet, sir, is an aunt by love. courtesy is a small word to use in connection with such devotion as she has given to us. but i needn't trouble you with such things, sir. i take it that my relations on the side of my own house do not affect you. i am a sent leger!" father looked quite taken aback. he sat quite still before he spoke. "well, mr. st. leger, i shall think over the matter for a while, and shall presently let you know my decision. in the meantime, would you like something to eat? i take it that as you must have started very early, you have not had any breakfast?" rupert smiled quite genially: "that is true, sir. i haven't broken bread since dinner last night, and i am ravenously hungry." father rang the bell, and told the footman who answered it to send the housekeeper. when she came, father said to her: "mrs. martindale, take this boy to your room and give him some breakfast." rupert stood very still for some seconds. his face had got red again after his paleness. then he bowed to my father, and followed mrs. martindale, who had moved to the door. nearly an hour afterwards my father sent a servant to tell him to come to the study. my mother was there, too, and i had gone back with her. the man came back and said: "mrs. martindale, sir, wishes to know, with her respectful service, if she may have a word with you." before father could reply mother told him to bring her. the housekeeper could not have been far off--that kind are generally near a keyhole--for she came at once. when she came in, she stood at the door curtseying and looking pale. father said: "well?" "i thought, sir and ma'am, that i had better come and tell you about master sent leger. i would have come at once, but i feared to disturb you." "well?" father had a stern way with servants. when i'm head of the family i'll tread them under my feet. that's the way to get real devotion from servants! "if you please, sir, i took the young gentleman into my room and ordered a nice breakfast for him, for i could see he was half famished--a growing boy like him, and so tall! presently it came along. it was a good breakfast, too! the very smell of it made even me hungry. there were eggs and frizzled ham, and grilled kidneys, and coffee, and buttered toast, and bloater-paste--" "that will do as to the menu," said mother. "go on!" "when it was all ready, and the maid had gone, i put a chair to the table and said, 'now, sir, your breakfast is ready!' he stood up and said, 'thank you, madam; you are very kind!' and he bowed to me quite nicely, just as if i was a lady, ma'am!" "go on," said mother. "then, sir, he held out his hand and said, 'good-bye, and thank you,' and he took up his cap. "'but aren't you going to have any breakfast, sir?' i says. "'no, thank you, madam,' he said; 'i couldn't eat here . . . in this house, i mean!' well, ma'am, he looked so lonely that i felt my heart melting, and i ventured to ask him if there was any mortal thing i could do for him. 'do tell me, dear,' i ventured to say. 'i am an old woman, and you, sir, are only a boy, though it's a fine man you will be--like your dear, splendid father, which i remember so well, and gentle like your poor dear mother.' "'you're a dear!' he says; and with that i took up his hand and kissed it, for i remember his poor dear mother so well, that was dead only a year. well, with that he turned his head away, and when i took him by the shoulders and turned him round--he is only a young boy, ma'am, for all he is so big--i saw that the tears were rolling down his cheeks. with that i laid his head on my breast--i've had children of my own, ma'am, as you know, though they're all gone. he came willing enough, and sobbed for a little bit. then he straightened himself up, and i stood respectfully beside him. "'tell mr. melton,' he said, 'that i shall not trouble him about the trustee business.' "'but won't you tell him yourself, sir, when you see him?' i says. "'i shall not see him again,' he says; 'i am going back now!' "well, ma'am, i knew he'd had no breakfast, though he was hungry, and that he would walk as he come, so i ventured to say: 'if you won't take it a liberty, sir, may i do anything to make your going easier? have you sufficient money, sir? if not, may i give, or lend, you some? i shall be very proud if you will allow me to.' "'yes,' he says quite hearty. 'if you will, you might lend me a shilling, as i have no money. i shall not forget it.' he said, as he took the coin: 'i shall return the amount, though i never can the kindness. i shall keep the coin.' he took the shilling, sir--he wouldn't take any more--and then he said good-bye. at the door he turned and walked back to me, and put his arms round me like a real boy does, and gave me a hug, and says he: "'thank you a thousand times, mrs. martindale, for your goodness to me, for your sympathy, and for the way you have spoken of my father and mother. you have seen me cry, mrs. martindale,' he said; 'i don't often cry: the last time was when i came back to the lonely house after my poor dear was laid to rest. but you nor any other shall ever see a tear of mine again.' and with that he straightened out his big back and held up his fine proud head, and walked out. i saw him from the window striding down the avenue. my! but he is a proud boy, sir--an honour to your family, sir, say i respectfully. and there, the proud child has gone away hungry, and he won't, i know, ever use that shilling to buy food!" father was not going to have that, you know, so he said to her: "he does not belong to my family, i would have you to know. true, he is allied to us through the female side; but we do not count him or his in my family." he turned away and began to read a book. it was a decided snub to her. but mother had a word to say before mrs. martindale was done with. mother has a pride of her own, and doesn't brook insolence from inferiors; and the housekeeper's conduct seemed to be rather presuming. mother, of course, isn't quite our class, though her folk are quite worthy and enormously rich. she is one of the dalmallingtons, the salt people, one of whom got a peerage when the conservatives went out. she said to the housekeeper: "i think, mrs. martindale, that i shall not require your services after this day month! and as i don't keep servants in my employment when i dismiss them, here is your month's wages due on the th of this month, and another month in lieu of notice. sign this receipt." she was writing a receipt as she spoke. the other signed it without a word, and handed it to her. she seemed quite flabbergasted. mother got up and sailed--that is the way that mother moves when she is in a wax--out of the room. lest i should forget it, let me say here that the dismissed housekeeper was engaged the very next day by the countess of salop. i may say in explanation that the earl of salop, k.g., who is lord-lieutenant of the county, is jealous of father's position and his growing influence. father is going to contest the next election on the conservative side, and is sure to be made a baronet before long. _letter from major-general sir colin alexander mackelpie_, _v.c._, _k.c.b._, _of croom_, _ross_, _n.b._, _to rupert sent leger_, _esq._, , _newland park_, _dulwich_, _london_, _s.e._ _july_ , . my dear godson, i am truly sorry i am unable to agree with your request that i should acquiesce in your desire to transfer to miss janet mackelpie the property bequeathed to you by your mother, of which property i am a trustee. let me say at once that, had it been possible to me to do so, i should have held it a privilege to further such a wish--not because the beneficiare whom you would create is a near kinswoman of my own. that, in truth, is my real difficulty. i have undertaken a trust made by an honourable lady on behalf of her only son--son of a man of stainless honour, and a dear friend of my own, and whose son has a rich heritage of honour from both parents, and who will, i am sure, like to look back on his whole life as worthy of his parents, and of those whom his parents trusted. you will see, i am sure, that whatsoever i might grant regarding anyone else, my hands are tied in this matter. and now let me say, my dear boy, that your letter has given me the most intense pleasure. it is an unspeakable delight to me to find in the son of your father--a man whom i loved, and a boy whom i love--the same generosity of spirit which endeared your father to all his comrades, old as well as young. come what may, i shall always be proud of you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all i have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. it grieves me to think that janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. but, my dear rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. then, if you are in the same mind--and i am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. in the meantime, to secure, so far as i can, my dear janet against any malign stroke of fortune, i have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of croom. it is, i am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, i trust, remain to her. and, my dear boy, i can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and i can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. i have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. let me tell you now that you have acted as i should have liked a son of my own, had i been blessed with one, to have acted. god bless you, my dear. yours ever, colin alex. mackelpie. _letter from roger melton_, _of openshaw grange_, _to rupert sent leger_, _esq._, , _newland park_, _dulwich_, _london_, _s.e._ _july_ , . my dear nephew, your letter of the th ult. received. have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. let me explain. the testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. to this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. but, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. it being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, i find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. i have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. i take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. we have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. you understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. as by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. but till then, though i should gladly meet your wishes if i could, i must adhere to the duty which i have undertaken. at the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. having now expressed as clearly as i can the limitations by which i am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion i shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. indeed, i shall undertake to use what influence i may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. in my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. but as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. on our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. as to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. on receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to miss janet mackelpie, i shall see that it is effected. believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. but there our warranty stops. we can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. you are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. as to the general principle involved in your wish i make no comment. you are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. i quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and i fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, i am convinced that she would have approved. therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, i shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to miss janet mackelpie. on hearing from you i shall know how to act in the matter. with all good wishes, believe me to be, your affectionate uncle, roger melton. to rupert sent leger, esq. _letter from rupert sent leger to roger melton_, _july_ , . my dear uncle, thank you heartily for your kind letter. i quite understand, and now see that i should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. i see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. i enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to miss janet mackelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. with regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear aunt janet the sum which i would have given myself, had such been in my power, i thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, i shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. but, indeed, i think it will be better not to offer it. aunt janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. with me, of course, it is different, for since i was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and i love her very much. since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. and in such a love as ours pride has no place. thank you again, dear uncle, and god bless you. your loving nephew, rupert sent leger. ernest roger halbard melton's record--_continued_. and now _re_ the remaining one of sir geoffrey's children, roger. he was the third child and third son, the only daughter, patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. concerning roger, i shall put down all i have heard of him from my father and grandfather. from my grand-aunt i heard nothing, i was a very small kid when she died; but i remember seeing her, but only once. a very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. i think they were either grey or blue, but i can't remember which. she looked very proud and haughty, but i am bound to say that she was very nice to me. i remember feeling very jealous of rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. rupert was eight years older than me, and i was afraid he would beat me if i said anything he did not like. so i was silent except when i forgot to be, and rupert said very unkindly, and i think very unfairly, that i was "a sulky little beast." i haven't forgot that, and i don't mean to. however, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. there he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the macskelpie. he wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and uncle roger, as i call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow rupert to throw away his matrimony, as i called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. old sir colin macskelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the macskelpie was his niece. he is a rude old man, that. i remember when, not remembering his relationship, i spoke of the macskelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. his scotch is very broad. i can hear him say, "hae some attempt at even soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or i'll wring yer snoot!" father was, i could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. he remembered, i think, that the general is a v.c. man, and was fond of fighting duels. but to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! i suppose he thought that was justice! but it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. when the general had gone he gave me a five-pound note. i don't think uncle roger was very pleased with the way rupert behaved about the legacy, for i don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. perhaps, of course, it was because rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but i shall tell about that when i come to him. after all, why should my uncle bother about him? he is not a melton at all, and i am to be head of the house--of course, when the lord thinks right to take father to himself! uncle roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. he made his money in what he calls "the eastern trade." this, so far as i can gather, takes in the levant and all east of it. i know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--turkey, and greece, and all round them, morocco, egypt, and southern russia, and the holy land; then on to persia, india, and all round it; the chersonese, china, japan, and the pacific islands. it is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! i must say "covered"--a lot of ground, i can tell you. uncle roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that i was brought up to try and be kind to him i shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. but when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. he wasn't ever even civil to me, that i can remember--grumpy old bear! but, then, he never saw rupert at all, so that i take it master r--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. the last time i saw him myself he was distinctly rude. he treated me as a boy, though i was getting on for eighteen years of age. i came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "get out! why do you venture to disturb me when i'm busy? get out, and be damned to you!" i waited where i was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for i cannot forget that when my father dies i shall be head of my house. but when he did there was no transfixing possible. he said quite coolly: "oh, it's you, is it? i thought it was one of my office boys. sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till i am ready." so i sat down and waited. father always said that i should try to conciliate and please my uncle. father is a very shrewd man, and uncle roger is a very rich one. but i don't think uncle r--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. he sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. for instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the adriatic, in the country they call the "land of blue mountains." at least, he says he bought it. he told father so in confidence. but he didn't show any title-deeds, and i'm greatly afraid he was "had." a bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as i am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. and now about rupert. as i have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. when we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. he had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the horn. then he joined an exploring party through the centre of patagonia, and then another up in alaska, and a third to the aleutian islands. after that he went through central america, and then to western africa, the pacific islands, india, and a lot of places. we all know the wisdom of the adage that "a rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, cousin rupert will die a poor man. indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the macskelpie! i am sure that, though uncle roger made no comment to my father, who, as head of our house, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. my mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as i am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, i am therefore quite impartial--i can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. we never did think much of rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. we know what he really is. for my own part, i loathe and despise him. just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear uncle roger's will. for mr. trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the will public, so we all have to wait. it is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. it is very thoughtless indeed of rupert to keep away like that. i wrote to old macskelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! he said that probably rupert sent leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. our anxiety, forsooth! we are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. and if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * to-day we (father and i) had letters from mr. trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "mr. rupert sent leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor uncle roger's death had been sent to him. he was at titicaca when last heard of. so goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." and that is nil. i dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. it is too bad! _letter from edward bingham trent to ernest roger halbard melton_. , lincoln's inn fields, _december_ , . dear sir, i am glad to be able to inform you that i have just heard by letter from mr. rupert st. leger that he intended leaving rio de janeiro by the s.s. _amazon_, of the royal mail company, on december . he further stated that he would cable just before leaving rio de janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in london. as all the others possibly interested in the will of the late roger melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, i now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the port of london was january prox. i therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _amazon_, the reading of the will of the late roger melton, esq., will take place in my office on thursday, january prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. i have the honour to be, sir, yours faithfully, edward bingham trent. to ernest roger halbard melton, esq., humcroft, salop. cable: _rupert sent leger to edward bingham trent_. _amazon_ arrives london january . sent leger. _telegram_ (_per lloyd's_): _rupert sent leger to edward bingham trent_. the lizard, _december_ . _amazon_ arrives london to-morrow morning. all well.--leger. _telegram_: _edward bingham trent to ernest roger halbard mellon_. rupert sent leger arrived. reading will takes place as arranged.--trent. ernest roger halbard melton's record. _january_ , . the reading of uncle roger's will is over. father got a duplicate of mr. trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this record. we both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. the only impatient member of our family was my mother. she _did_ say things, and if old trent had been here his ears would have been red. she said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the will, and keeping the heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. i don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be head of the house! i thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "true, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. some time afterwards when i passed the library i heard him walking up and down. father and i went up to town on the afternoon of wednesday, january . we stayed, of course, at claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. she would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. at five minutes to eleven we entered mr. trent's office. father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. it was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. when we went into the room we found there general sir colin mackelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom i took to be rupert st. leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, i thought! he and old mackelpie took care to be in time! rather low, i thought it. mr. st. leger was reading a letter. he had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and i could see that there were many sheets. he did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither i nor my father (who, as head of the house, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. after all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our name. the general, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. he evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--i thought more warmly than he did to father. i was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the v.c. and a baronetcy. he got the latter not long ago, after the frontier war in india. i was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. i had not forgotten his rudeness, and i thought that he might be sucking up to me. i knew that when i had my dear uncle roger's many millions i should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. so i got even with him for his former impudence. when he held out his hand i put one finger in it, and said, "how do?" he got very red and turned away. father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. all the time mr. st. leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. i thought the old macskelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away i heard him say something under his breath. it sounded like "help!" but mr. s--- did not hear. he certainly no notice of it. as the macs--- and mr. s--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as i wanted to show that i was indifferent to the two s's, i took out this notebook, and went on with the record, bringing it up to this moment. the record--_continued_. when i had finished writing i looked over at rupert. when he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. father took him very coolly. rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. i happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first i did not see his hand; but just as i was looking at it the clock struck eleven. whilst it was striking mr. trent came into the room. close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. there were two other men also. he bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. i was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. father sat still, but sir colin and mr. st. leger rose. mr. trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. nothing but his respectful bow. that is the etiquette for an attorney, i understand, on such formal occasions. he sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. father, of course, as head of the family, took the seat at his right hand. sir colin and st. leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. the general knows, of course, that a baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. i may be a baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. the clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. this he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. he was evidently a shorthand-writer. mr. trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. he took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. he fixed his glasses, and said: "gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'my last will and testament--roger melton, _june_, .' this document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'i roger melton of openshaw grange in the county of dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three berkeley square london; and of the castle of vissarion in the land of the blue mountains, being of sound mind do make this my last will and testament on this day monday the eleventh day of the month of june in the year of our lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and attorney edward bingham trent in number one hundred and seventy-six lincoln's inn fields london hereby revoking all other wills that i may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last will making dispositions of my property as follows: "' . to my kinsman and nephew ernest halbard melton esquire, justice of the peace, humcroft the county of salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all duties taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my five per centum bonds of the city of montreal, canada. "' . to my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the will of my late sister patience late widow of the late captain rupert sent leger who predeceased her, major-general sir colin alexander mackelpie, baronet, holder of the victoria cross, knight commander of the order of the bath, of croom in the county of ross scotland a sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my five per centum bonds of the city of toronto, canada. "' . to miss janet mackelpie presently residing at croom in the county of ross scotland the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all duties taxes and charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my five per centum bonds of the london county council. "' . to the various persons charities and trustees named in the schedule attached to this will and marked a. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of duties and taxes and charges whatsoever.'" here mr. trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left quite large sums of money and specific objects, such as curios and pictures. "' . to my kinsman and nephew ernest roger halbard melton presently living in the house of his father at humcroft salop the sum of ten thousand pounds sterling. "' . to my old and valued friend edward bingham trent of one hundred and seventy-six lincoln's inn fields sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free from all duties taxes and charges whatsoever to be paid out of my five per centum bonds of the city of manchester england. "' . to my dear nephew rupert sent leger only son of my dear sister patience melton by her marriage with captain rupert sent leger the sum of one thousand pounds sterling. i also bequeath to the said rupert sent leger a further sum conditional upon his acceptance of the terms of a letter addressed to him marked b, and left in the custody of the above edward bingham trent and which letter is an integral part of this my will. in case of the non-acceptance of the conditions of such letter, i devise and bequeath the whole of the sums and properties reserved therein to the executors herein appointed colin alexander mackelpie and edward bingham trent in trust to distribute the same in accordance with the terms of the letter in the present custody of edward bingham trent marked c, and now deposited sealed with my seal in the sealed envelope containing my last will to be kept in the custody of the said edward bingham trent and which said letter c is also an integral part of my will. and in case any doubt should arise as to my ultimate intention as to the disposal of my property the above-mentioned executors are to have full power to arrange and dispose all such matters as may seem best to them without further appeal. and if any beneficiary under this will shall challenge the same or any part of it, or dispute the validity thereof, he shall forfeit to the general estate the bequest made herein to him, and any such bequest shall cease and be void to all intents and purposes whatsoever. "' . for proper compliance with laws and duties connected with testamentary proceedings and to keep my secret trusts secret i direct my executors to pay all death, estate, settlement, legacy, succession, or other duties charges impositions and assessments whatever on the residue of my estate beyond the bequests already named, at the scale charged in the case of most distant relatives or strangers in blood. "' . i hereby appoint as my executors major-general sir colin alexander mackelpie, baronet, of croom in the county of ross, and edward bingham trent attorney at law of one hundred and seventy-six lincoln's inn fields london west central with full power to exercise their discretion in any circumstance which may arise in the carrying out my wishes as expressed in this will. as reward for their services in this capacity as executors they are to receive each out of the general estate a sum of one hundred thousand pounds sterling free of all duties and impositions whatsoever. " . the two memoranda contained in the letters marked b and c are integral parts of this my last will are ultimately at the probate of the will to be taken as clauses and of it. the envelopes are marked b and c on both envelope and contents and the contents of each is headed thus: b to be read as clause of my will and the other c to be read as clause of my will. " . should either of the above-mentioned executors die before the completion of the above year and a half from the date of the reading of my will or before the conditions rehearsed in letter c the remaining executor shall have all and several the rights and duties entrusted by my will to both. and if both executors should die then the matter of interpretation and execution of all matters in connection with this my last will shall rest with the lord chancellor of england for the time being or with whomsoever he may appoint for the purpose. "'this my last will is given by me on the first day of january in the year of our lord one thousand nine hundred and seven. "'roger melton. "we andrew rossiter and john colson here in the presence of each other and of the testator have seen the testator roger melton sign and seal this document. in witness thereof we hereby set our names "'andrew rossiter clerk of primrose avenue london w.c. "'john colson caretaker of lincoln's inn fields and verger of st. tabitha's church clerkenwell london.'" when mr. trent had finished the reading he put all the papers together, and tied them up in a bundle again with the red tape. holding the bundle in his hand, he stood up, saying as he did so: "that is all, gentlemen, unless any of you wish to ask me any questions; in which case i shall answer, of course, to the best of my power. i shall ask you, sir colin, to remain with me, as we have to deal with some matters, or to arrange a time when we may meet to do so. and you also, mr. sent leger, as there is this letter to submit to you. it is necessary that you should open it in the presence of the executors, but there is no necessity that anyone else should be present." the first to speak was my father. of course, as a county gentleman of position and estate, who is sometimes asked to take the chair at sessions--of course, when there is not anyone with a title present--he found himself under the duty of expressing himself first. old mackelpie has superior rank; but this was a family affair, in which my father is head of the house, whilst old mackelpie is only an outsider brought into it--and then only to the distaff side, by the wife of a younger brother of the man who married into our family. father spoke with the same look on his face as when he asks important questions of witnesses at quarter sessions. "i should like some points elucidated." the attorney bowed (he gets his thou', any way, so he can afford to be oily--suave, i suppose he would call it); so father looked at a slip of paper in his hand and asked: "how much is the amount of the whole estate?" the attorney answered quickly, and i thought rather rudely. he was red in the face, and didn't bow this time; i suppose a man of his class hasn't more than a very limited stock of manners: "that, sir, i am not at liberty to tell you. and i may say that i would not if i could." "is it a million?" said father again. he was angry this time, and even redder than the old attorney. the attorney said in answer, very quietly this time: "ah, that's cross-examining. let me say, sir, that no one can know that until the accountants to be appointed for the purpose have examined the affairs of the testator up to date." mr. rupert st. leger, who was looking all this time angrier than even the attorney or my father--though at what he had to be angry about i can't imagine--struck his fist on the table and rose up as if to speak, but as he caught sight of both old mackelpie and the attorney he sat down again. _mem._--those three seem to agree too well. i must keep a sharp eye on them. i didn't think of this part any more at the time, for father asked another question which interested me much: "may i ask why the other matters of the will are not shown to us?" the attorney wiped his spectacles carefully with a big silk bandanna handkerchief before he answered: "simply because each of the two letters marked 'b' and 'c' is enclosed with instructions regarding their opening and the keeping secret of their contents. i shall call your attention to the fact that both envelopes are sealed, and that the testator and both witnesses have signed their names across the flap of each envelope. i shall read them. the letter marked 'b,' directed to 'rupert sent leger,' is thus endorsed: "'this letter is to be given to rupert sent leger by the trustees and is to be opened by him in their presence. he is to take such copy or make such notes as he may wish and is then to hand the letter with envelope to the executors who are at once to read it, each of them being entitled to make copy or notes if desirous of so doing. the letter is then to be replaced in its envelope and letter and envelope are to be placed in another envelope to be endorsed on outside as to its contents and to be signed across the flap by both the executors and by the said rupert sent leger. "'(signed) roger melton / /' . "the letter marked 'c,' directed to 'edward bingham trent,' is thus endorsed: "'this letter directed to edward bingham trent is to be kept by him unopened for a term of two years after the reading of my last will unless said period is earlier terminated by either the acceptance or refusal of rupert sent leger to accept the conditions mentioned in my letter to him marked 'b' which he is to receive and read in the presence of my executors at the same meeting as but subsequent to the reading of the clauses (except those to be ultimately numbers ten and eleven) of my last will. this letter contains instructions as to what both the executors and the said rupert sent leger are to do when such acceptance or refusal of the said rupert sent leger has been made known, or if he omit or refuse to make any such acceptance or refusal, at the end of two years next after my decease. "'(signed) roger melton / /' .'" when the attorney had finished reading the last letter he put it carefully in his pocket. then he took the other letter in his hand, and stood up. "mr. rupert sent leger," he said, "please to open this letter, and in such a way that all present may see that the memorandum at top of the contents is given as-- "'b. to be read as clause ten of my will.'" st. leger rolled up his sleeves and cuffs just as if he was going to perform some sort of prestidigitation--it was very theatrical and ridiculous--then, his wrists being quite bare, he opened the envelope and took out the letter. we all saw it quite well. it was folded with the first page outward, and on the top was written a line just as the attorney said. in obedience to a request from the attorney, he laid both letter and envelope on the table in front of him. the clerk then rose up, and, after handing a piece of paper to the attorney, went back to his seat. mr. trent, having written something on the paper, asked us all who were present, even the clerk and the shorthand man, to look at the memorandum on the letter and what was written on the envelope, and to sign the paper, which ran: "we the signatories of this paper hereby declare that we have seen the sealed letter marked b and enclosed in the will of roger melton opened in the presence of us all including mr. edward bingham trent and sir colin alexander mackelpie and we declare that the paper therein contained was headed 'b. to be read as clause ten of my will' and that there were no other contents in the envelope. in attestation of which we in the presence of each other append our signatures." the attorney motioned to my father to begin. father is a cautious man, and he asked for a magnifying-glass, which was shortly brought to him by a clerk for whom the clerk in the room called. father examined the envelope all over very carefully, and also the memorandum at top of the paper. then, without a word, he signed the paper. father is a just man. then we all signed. the attorney folded the paper and put it in an envelope. before closing it he passed it round, and we all saw that it had not been tampered with. father took it out and read it, and then put it back. then the attorney asked us all to sign it across the flap, which we did. then he put the sealing-wax on it and asked father to seal it with his own seal. he did so. then he and mackelpie sealed it also with their own seals, then he put it in another envelope, which he sealed himself, and he and mackelpie signed it across the flap. then father stood up, and so did i. so did the two men--the clerk and the shorthand writer. father did not say a word till we got out into the street. we walked along, and presently we passed an open gate into the fields. he turned back, saying to me: "come in here. there is no one about, and we can be quiet. i want to speak to you." when we sat down on a seat with none other near it, father said: "you are a student of the law. what does all that mean?" i thought it a good occasion for an epigram, so i said one word: "bilk!" "h'm!" said father; "that is so far as you and i are concerned. you with a beggarly ten thousand, and i with twenty. but what is, or will be, the effect of those secret trusts?" "oh, that," i said, "will, i dare say, be all right. uncle roger evidently did not intend the older generation to benefit too much by his death. but he only gave rupert st. leger one thousand pounds, whilst he gave me ten. that looks as if he had more regard for the direct line. of course--" father interrupted me: "but what was the meaning of a further sum?" "i don't know, father. there was evidently some condition which he was to fulfil; but he evidently didn't expect that he would. why, otherwise, did he leave a second trust to mr. trent?" "true!" said father. then he went on: "i wonder why he left those enormous sums to trent and old mackelpie. they seem out of all proportion as executors' fees, unless--" "unless what, father?" "unless the fortune he has left is an enormous one. that is why i asked." "and that," i laughed, "is why he refused to answer." "why, ernest, it must run into big figures." "right-ho, father. the death-duties will be annoying. what a beastly swindle the death-duties are! why, i shall suffer even on your own little estate . . . " "that will do!" he said curtly. father is so ridiculously touchy. one would think he expects to live for ever. presently he spoke again: "i wonder what are the conditions of that trust. they are as important--almost--as the amount of the bequest--whatever it is. by the way, there seems to be no mention in the will of a residuary legatee. ernest, my boy, we may have to fight over that." "how do you make that out, father?" i asked. he had been very rude over the matter of the death-duties of his own estate, though it is entailed and i _must_ inherit. so i determined to let him see that i know a good deal more than he does--of law, at any rate. "i fear that when we come to look into it closely that dog won't fight. in the first place, that may be all arranged in the letter to st. leger, which is a part of the will. and if that letter should be inoperative by his refusal of the conditions (whatever they may be), then the letter to the attorney begins to work. what it is we don't know, and perhaps even he doesn't--i looked at it as well as i could--and we law men are trained to observation. but even if the instructions mentioned as being in letter c fail, then the corpus of the will gives full power to trent to act just as he darn pleases. he can give the whole thing to himself if he likes, and no one can say a word. in fact, he is himself the final court of appeal." "h'm!" said father to himself. "it is a queer kind of will, i take it, that can override the court of chancery. we shall perhaps have to try it before we are done with this!" with that he rose, and we walked home together--without saying another word. my mother was very inquisitive about the whole thing--women always are. father and i between us told her all it was necessary for her to know. i think we were both afraid that, woman-like, she would make trouble for us by saying or doing something injudicious. indeed, she manifested such hostility towards rupert st. leger that it is quite on the cards that she may try to injure him in some way. so when father said that he would have to go out shortly again, as he wished to consult his solicitor, i jumped up and said i would go with him, as i, too, should take advice as to how i stood in the matter. _the contents of letter marked_ "_b_" _attached as an integral part to the last will of roger melton_. _june_ , . "this letter an integral part of my last will regards the entire residue of my estate beyond the specific bequests made in the body of my will. it is to appoint as residuary legatee of such will--in case he may accept in due form the conditions herein laid down--my dear nephew rupert sent leger only son of my sister patience melton now deceased by her marriage with captain rupert sent leger also now deceased. on his acceptance of the conditions and the fulfilment of the first of them the entire residue of my estate after payments of all specific legacies and of all my debts and other obligations is to become his absolute property to be dealt with or disposed of as he may desire. the following are the conditions. " . he is to accept provisionally by letter addressed to my executors a sum of nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling free of all duties taxes or other imposts. this he will hold for a period of six months from the date of the reading of my last will and have user of the accruements thereto calculated at the rate of ten per centum per annum which amount he shall under no circumstances be required to replace. at the end of said six months he must express in writing directed to the executors of my will his acceptance or refusal of the other conditions herein to follow. but if he may so choose he shall be free to declare in writing to the executors within one week from the time of the reading of the will his wish to accept or to withdraw altogether from the responsibility of this trust. in case of withdrawal he is to retain absolutely and for his own use the above-mentioned sum of nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling free of all duties taxes and imposts whatsoever making with the specific bequest of one thousand pounds a clear sum of one million pounds sterling free of all imposts. and he will from the moment of the delivery of such written withdrawal cease to have any right or interest whatsoever in the further disposition of my estate under this instrument. should such written withdrawal be received by my executors they shall have possession of such residue of my estate as shall remain after the payment of the above sum of nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling and the payment of all duties taxes assessments or imposts as may be entailed by law by its conveyance to the said rupert sent leger and these my executors shall hold the same for the further disposal of it according to the instructions given in the letter marked c and which is also an integral part of my last will and testament. " . if at or before the expiration of the six months above-mentioned the said rupert sent leger shall have accepted the further conditions herein stated, he is to have user of the entire income produced by such residue of my estate the said income being paid to him quarterly on the usual quarter days by the aforesaid executors to wit major general sir colin alexander mackelpie bart. and edward bingham trent to be used by him in accordance with the terms and conditions hereinafter mentioned. " . the said rupert sent leger is to reside for a period of at least six months to begin not later than three months from the reading of my will in the castle of vissarion in the land of the blue mountains. and if he fulfil the conditions imposed on him and shall thereby become possessed of the residue of my estate he is to continue to reside there in part for a period of one year. he is not to change his british nationality except by a formal consent of the privy council of great britain. "at the end of a year and a half from the reading of my will he is to report in person to my executors of the expenditure of amounts paid or due by him in the carrying out of the trust and if they are satisfied that same are in general accord with the conditions named in above-mentioned letter marked c and which is an integral part of my will they are to record their approval on such will which can then go for final probate and taxation. on the completion of which the said rupert sent leger shall become possessed absolutely and without further act or need of the entire residue of my estate. in witness whereof, etc. "(signed) roger melton." this document is attested by the witnesses to the will on the same date. (_personal and confidential_.) memoranda made by edward bingham trent in connection with the will of roger melton. _january_ , . the interests and issues of all concerned in the will and estate of the late roger melton of openshaw grange are so vast that in case any litigation should take place regarding the same, i, as the solicitor, having the carriage of the testator's wishes, think it well to make certain memoranda of events, conversations, etc., not covered by documentary evidence. i make the first memorandum immediately after the event, whilst every detail of act and conversation is still fresh in my mind. i shall also try to make such comments thereon as may serve to refresh my memory hereafter, and which in case of my death may perhaps afford as opinions contemporaneously recorded some guiding light to other or others who may later on have to continue and complete the tasks entrusted to me. i. concerning the reading of the will of roger melton. when, beginning at o'clock a.m. on this the forenoon of thursday, the rd day of january, , i opened the will and read it in full, except the clauses contained in the letters marked "b" and "c"; there were present in addition to myself, the following: . ernest halbard melton, j.p, nephew of the testator. . ernest roger halbard melton, son of the above. . rupert sent leger, nephew of the testator. . major-general sir colin alexander mackelpie, bart., co-executor with myself of the will. . andrew rossiter, my clerk, one of the witnesses of the testator's will. . alfred nugent, stenographer (of messrs. castle's office, , bream's buildings, w.c.). when the will had been read, mr. e. h. melton asked the value of the estate left by the testator, which query i did not feel empowered or otherwise able to answer; and a further query, as to why those present were not shown the secret clauses of the will. i answered by reading the instructions endorsed on the envelopes of the two letters marked "b" and "c," which were sufficiently explanatory. but, lest any question should hereafter arise as to the fact that the memoranda in letters marked "b" and "c," which were to be read as clauses and of the will, i caused rupert sent leger to open the envelope marked "b" in the presence of all in the room. these all signed a paper which i had already prepared, to the effect that they had seen the envelope opened, and that the memorandum marked "b. to be read as clause ten of my will," was contained in the envelope, of which it was to be the sole contents. mr. ernest halbard melton, j.p., before signing, carefully examined with a magnifying-glass, for which he had asked, both the envelope and the heading of the memorandum enclosed in the letter. he was about to turn the folded paper which was lying on the table over, by which he might have been able to read the matter of the memorandum had he so desired. i at once advised him that the memorandum he was to sign dealt only with the heading of the page, and not with the matter. he looked very angry, but said nothing, and after a second scrutiny signed. i put the memorandum in an envelope, which we all signed across the flap. before signing, mr ernest halbard melton took out the paper and verified it. i then asked him to close it, which he did, and when the sealing-wax was on it he sealed it with his own seal. sir colin a. mackelpie and i also appended our own seals. i put the envelope in another, which i sealed with my own seal, and my co-executor and i signed it across the flap and added the date. i took charge of this. when the others present had taken their departure, my co-executor and i, together with mr. rupert sent leger, who had remained at my request, went into my private room. here mr. rupert sent leger read the memorandum marked "b," which is to be read as clause of the will. he is evidently a man of considerable nerve, for his face was quite impassive as he read the document, which conveyed to him (subject to the conditions laid down) a fortune which has no equal in amount in europe, even, so far as i know, amongst the crowned heads. when he had read it over a second time he stood up and said: "i wish i had known my uncle better. he must have had the heart of a king. i never heard of such generosity as he has shown me. mr. trent, i see, from the conditions of this memorandum, or codicil, or whatever it is, that i am to declare within a week as to whether i accept the conditions imposed on me. now, i want you to tell me this: must i wait a week to declare?" in answer, i told him that the testator's intention was manifestly to see that he had full time to consider fully every point before making formal decision and declaration. but, in answer to the specific question, i could answer that he might make declaration when he would, provided it was _within_, or rather not after, the week named. i added: "but i strongly advise you not to act hurriedly. so enormous a sum is involved that you may be sure that all possible efforts will be made by someone or other to dispossess you of your inheritance, and it will be well that everything shall be done, not only in perfect order, but with such manifest care and deliberation that there can be no question as to your intention." "thank you, sir," he answered; "i shall do as you shall kindly advise me in this as in other things. but i may tell you now--and you, too, my dear sir colin--that i not only accept my uncle roger's conditions in this, but that when the time comes in the other matters i shall accept every condition that he had in his mind--and that i may know of--in everything." he looked exceedingly in earnest, and it gave me much pleasure to see and hear him. it was just what a young man should do who had seen so generously treated. as the time had now come, i gave him the bulky letter addressed to him, marked "d" which i had in my safe. as i fulfilled my obligation in the matter, i said: "you need not read the letter here. you can take it away with you, and read it by yourself at leisure. it is your own property, without any obligation whatever attached to it. by the way, perhaps it would be well if you knew. i have a copy sealed up in an envelope, and endorsed, 'to be opened if occasion should arise,' but not otherwise. will you see me to-morrow, or, better still, dine with me alone here to-night? i should like to have a talk with you, and you may wish to ask me some questions." he answered me cordially. i actually felt touched by the way he said good-bye before he went away. sir colin mackelpie went with him, as sent leger was to drop him at the reform. _letter from roger melton to rupert sent leger_, _endorsed_ "_d. re rupert sent leger_. _to be given to him by edward bingham trent if and as soon as he has declared_ (_formally or informally_) _his intention of accepting the conditions named in letter b._, _forming clause_ _in my will_. _r. m._, / /' . "_mem._--copy (sealed) left in custody of e. b. trent, to be opened if necessary, as directed." _june_ , . my dear nephew, when (if ever) you receive this you will know that (with the exception of some definite bequests) i have left to you, under certain conditions, the entire bulk of my fortune--a fortune so great that by its aid as a help, a man of courage and ability may carve out for himself a name and place in history. the specific conditions contained in clause of my will have to be observed, for such i deem to be of service to your own fortune; but herein i give my advice, which you are at liberty to follow or not as you will, and my wishes, which i shall try to explain fully and clearly, so that you may be in possession of my views in case you should desire to carry them out, or, at least, to so endeavour that the results i hope for may be ultimately achieved. first let me explain--for your understanding and your guidance--that the power, or perhaps it had better be called the pressure, behind the accumulation of my fortune has been ambition. in obedience to its compulsion, i toiled early and late until i had so arranged matters that, subject to broad supervision, my ideas could be carried out by men whom i had selected and tested, and not found wanting. this was for years to the satisfaction, and ultimately to the accumulation by these men of fortune commensurate in some measure to their own worth and their importance to my designs. thus i had accumulated, whilst still a young man, a considerable fortune. this i have for over forty years used sparingly as regards my personal needs, daringly with regard to speculative investments. with the latter i took such very great care, studying the conditions surrounding them so thoroughly, that even now my schedule of bad debts or unsuccessful investments is almost a blank. perhaps by such means things flourished with me, and wealth piled in so fast that at times i could hardly use it to advantage. this was all done as the forerunner of ambition, but i was over fifty years of age when the horizon of ambition itself opened up to me. i speak thus freely, my dear rupert, as when you read it i shall have passed away, and not ambition nor the fear of misunderstanding, nor even of scorn can touch me. my ventures in commerce and finance covered not only the far east, but every foot of the way to it, so that the mediterranean and all its opening seas were familiar to me. in my journeyings up and down the adriatic i was always struck by the great beauty and seeming richness--native richness--of the land of the blue mountains. at last chance took me into that delectable region. when the "balkan struggle" of ' was on, one of the great voivodes came to me in secret to arrange a large loan for national purposes. it was known in financial circles of both europe and asia that i took an active part in the _haute politique_ of national treasuries, and the voivode vissarion came to me as to one able and willing to carry out his wishes. after confidential pour-parlers, he explained to me that his nation was in the throes of a great crisis. as you perhaps know, the gallant little nation in the land of the blue mountains has had a strange history. for more than a thousand years--ever since its settlement after the disaster of rossoro--it had maintained its national independence under several forms of government. at first it had a king whose successors became so despotic that they were dethroned. then it was governed by its voivodes, with the combining influence of a vladika somewhat similar in power and function to the prince-bishops of montenegro; afterwards by a prince; or, as at present, by an irregular elective council, influenced in a modified form by the vladika, who was then supposed to exercise a purely spiritual function. such a council in a small, poor nation did not have sufficient funds for armaments, which were not immediately and imperatively necessary; and therefore the voivode vissarion, who had vast estates in his own possession, and who was the present representative a family which of old had been leaders in the land, found it a duty to do on his own account that which the state could not do. for security as to the loan which he wished to get, and which was indeed a vast one, he offered to sell me his whole estate if i would secure to him a right to repurchase it within a given time (a time which i may say has some time ago expired). he made it a condition that the sale and agreement should remain a strict secret between us, as a widespread knowledge that his estate had changed hands would in all probability result in my death and his own at the hands of the mountaineers, who are beyond everything loyal, and were jealous to the last degree. an attack by turkey was feared, and new armaments were required; and the patriotic voivode was sacrificing his own great fortune for the public good. what a sacrifice this was he well knew, for in all discussions regarding a possible change in the constitution of the blue mountains it was always taken for granted that if the principles of the constitution should change to a more personal rule, his own family should be regarded as the most noble. it had ever been on the side of freedom in olden time; before the establishment of the council, or even during the rule of the voivodes, the vissarion had every now and again stood out against the king or challenged the princedom. the very name stood for freedom, for nationality, against foreign oppression; and the bold mountaineers were devoted to it, as in other free countries men follow the flag. such loyalty was a power and a help in the land, for it knew danger in every form; and anything which aided the cohesion of its integers was a natural asset. on every side other powers, great and small, pressed the land, anxious to acquire its suzerainty by any means--fraud or force. greece, turkey, austria, russia, italy, france, had all tried in vain. russia, often hurled back, was waiting an opportunity to attack. austria and greece, although united by no common purpose or design, were ready to throw in their forces with whomsoever might seem most likely to be victor. other balkan states, too, were not lacking in desire to add the little territory of the blue mountains to their more ample possessions. albania, dalmatia, herzegovina, servia, bulgaria, looked with lustful eyes on the land, which was in itself a vast natural fortress, having close under its shelter perhaps the finest harbour between gibraltar and the dardanelles. but the fierce, hardy mountaineers were unconquerable. for centuries they had fought, with a fervour and fury that nothing could withstand or abate, attacks on their independence. time after time, century after century, they had opposed with dauntless front invading armies sent against them. this unquenchable fire of freedom had had its effect. one and all, the great powers knew that to conquer that little nation would be no mean task, but rather that of a tireless giant. over and over again had they fought with units against hundreds, never ceasing until they had either wiped out their foes entirely or seen them retreat across the frontier in diminished numbers. for many years past, however, the land of the blue mountains had remained unassailable, for all the powers and states had feared lest the others should unite against the one who should begin the attack. at the time i speak of there was a feeling throughout the blue mountains--and, indeed, elsewhere--that turkey was preparing for a war of offence. the objective of her attack was not known anywhere, but here there was evidence that the turkish "bureau of spies" was in active exercise towards their sturdy little neighbour. to prepare for this, the voivode peter vissarion approached me in order to obtain the necessary "sinews of war." the situation was complicated by the fact that the elective council was at present largely held together by the old greek church, which was the religion of the people, and which had had since the beginning its destinies linked in a large degree with theirs. thus it was possible that if a war should break out, it might easily become--whatever might have been its cause or beginnings--a war of creeds. this in the balkans must be largely one of races, the end of which no mind could diagnose or even guess at. i had now for some time had knowledge of the country and its people, and had come to love them both. the nobility of vissarion's self-sacrifice at once appealed to me, and i felt that i, too, should like to have a hand in the upholding of such a land and such a people. they both deserved freedom. when vissarion handed me the completed deed of sale i was going to tear it up; but he somehow recognized my intention, and forestalled it. he held up his hand arrestingly as he said: "i recognize your purpose, and, believe me, i honour you for it from the very depths of my soul. but, my friend, it must not be. our mountaineers are proud beyond belief. though they would allow me--who am one of themselves, and whose fathers have been in some way leaders and spokesmen amongst them for many centuries--to do all that is in my power to do--and what, each and all, they would be glad to do were the call to them--they would not accept aid from one outside themselves. my good friend, they would resent it, and might show to you, who wish us all so well, active hostility, which might end in danger, or even death. that was why, my friend, i asked to put a clause in our agreement, that i might have right to repurchase my estate, regarding which you would fain act so generously." thus it is, my dear nephew rupert, only son of my dear sister, that i hereby charge you solemnly as you value me--as you value yourself--as you value honour, that, should it ever become known that that noble voivode, peter vissarion, imperilled himself for his country's good, and if it be of danger or evil repute to him that even for such a purpose he sold his heritage, you shall at once and to the knowledge of the mountaineers--though not necessarily to others--reconvey to him or his heirs the freehold that he was willing to part with--and that he has _de facto_ parted with by the effluxion of the time during which his right of repurchase existed. this is a secret trust and duty which is between thee and me alone in the first instance; a duty which i have undertaken on behalf of my heirs, and which must be carried out, at whatsoever cost may ensue. you must not take it that it is from any mistrust of you or belief that you will fail that i have taken another measure to insure that this my cherished idea is borne out. indeed, it is that the law may, in case of need--for no man can know what may happen after his own hand be taken from the plough--be complied with, that i have in another letter written for the guidance of others, directed that in case of any failure to carry out this trust--death or other--the direction become a clause or codicil to my will. but in the meantime i wish that this be kept a secret between us two. to show you the full extent of my confidence, let me here tell you that the letter alluded to above is marked "c," and directed to my solicitor and co-executor, edward bingham trent, which is finally to be regarded as clause eleven of my will. to which end he has my instructions and also a copy of this letter, which is, in case of need, and that only, to be opened, and is to be a guide to my wishes as to the carrying out by you of the conditions on which you inherit. and now, my dear nephew, let me change to another subject more dear to me--yourself. when you read this i shall have passed away, so that i need not be hampered now by that reserve which i feel has grown upon me through a long and self-contained life. your mother was very dear to me. as you know, she was twenty years younger than her youngest brother, who was two years younger than me. so we were all young men when she was a baby, and, i need not say, a pet amongst us--almost like our own child to each of us, as well as our sister. you knew her sweetness and high quality, so i need say nothing of these; but i should like you to understand that she was very dear to me. when she and your father came to know and love each other i was far away, opening up a new branch of business in the interior of china, and it was not for several months that i got home news. when i first heard of him they had already been married. i was delighted to find that they were very happy. they needed nothing that i could give. when he died so suddenly i tried to comfort her, and all i had was at her disposal, did she want it. she was a proud woman--though not with me. she had come to understand that, though i seemed cold and hard (and perhaps was so generally), i was not so to her. but she would not have help of any kind. when i pressed her, she told me that she had enough for your keep and education and her own sustenance for the time she must still live; that your father and she had agreed that you should be brought up to a healthy and strenuous life rather than to one of luxury; and she thought that it would be better for the development of your character that you should learn to be self-reliant and to be content with what your dear father had left you. she had always been a wise and thoughtful girl, and now all her wisdom and thought were for you, your father's and her child. when she spoke of you and your future, she said many things which i thought memorable. one of them i remember to this day. it was apropos of my saying that there is a danger of its own kind in extreme poverty. a young man might know too much want. she answered me: "true! that is so! but there is a danger that overrides it;" and after a time went on: "it is better not to know wants than not to know want!" i tell you, boy, that is a great truth, and i hope you will remember it for yourself as well as a part of the wisdom of your mother. and here let me say something else which is a sort of corollary of that wise utterance: i dare say you thought me very hard and unsympathetic that time i would not, as one of your trustees, agree to your transferring your little fortune to miss mackelpie. i dare say you bear a grudge towards me about it up to this day. well, if you have any of that remaining, put it aside when you know the truth. that request of yours was an unspeakable delight to me. it was like your mother coming back from the dead. that little letter of yours made me wish for the first time that i had a son--and that he should be like you. i fell into a sort of reverie, thinking if i were yet too old to marry, so that a son might be with me in my declining years--if such were to ever be for me. but i concluded that this might not be. there was no woman whom i knew or had ever met with that i could love as your mother loved your father and as he loved her. so i resigned myself to my fate. i must go my lonely road on to the end. and then came a ray of light into my darkness: there was you. though you might not feel like a son to me--i could not expect it when the memory of that sweet relationship was more worthily filled. but i could feel like a father to you. nothing could prevent that or interfere with it, for i would keep it as my secret in the very holy of holies of my heart, where had been for thirty years the image of a sweet little child--your mother. my boy, when in your future life you shall have happiness and honour and power, i hope you will sometimes give a thought to the lonely old man whose later years your very existence seemed to brighten. the thought of your mother recalled me to my duty. i had undertaken for her a sacred task: to carry out her wishes regarding her son. i knew how she would have acted. it might--would--have been to her a struggle of inclination and duty; and duty would have won. and so i carried out my duty, though i tell you it was a harsh and bitter task to me at the time. but i may tell you that i have since been glad when i think of the result. i tried, as you may perhaps remember, to carry out your wishes in another way, but your letter put the difficulty of doing so so clearly before me that i had to give it up. and let me tell you that that letter endeared you to me more than ever. i need not tell you that thenceforth i followed your life very closely. when you ran away to sea, i used in secret every part of the mechanism of commerce to find out what had become of you. then, until you had reached your majority, i had a constant watch kept upon you--not to interfere with you in any way, but so that i might be able to find you should need arise. when in due course i heard of your first act on coming of age i was satisfied. i had to know of the carrying out of your original intention towards janet mac kelpie, for the securities had to be transferred. from that time on i watched--of course through other eyes--your chief doings. it would have been a pleasure to me to have been able to help in carrying out any hope or ambition of yours, but i realized that in the years intervening between your coming of age and the present moment you were fulfilling your ideas and ambitions in your own way, and, as i shall try to explain to you presently, my ambitions also. you were of so adventurous a nature that even my own widely-spread machinery of acquiring information--what i may call my private "intelligence department"--was inadequate. my machinery was fairly adequate for the east--in great part, at all events. but you went north and south, and west also, and, in addition, you essayed realms where commerce and purely real affairs have no foothold--worlds of thought, of spiritual import, of psychic phenomena--speaking generally, of mysteries. as now and again i was baffled in my inquiries, i had to enlarge my mechanism, and to this end started--not in my own name, of course--some new magazines devoted to certain branches of inquiry and adventure. should you ever care to know more of these things, mr. trent, in whose name the stock is left, will be delighted to give you all details. indeed, these stocks, like all else i have, shall be yours when the time comes, if you care to ask for them. by means of _the journal of adventure_, _the magazine of mystery_, _occultism_, _balloon and aeroplane_, _the submarine_, _jungle and pampas_, _the ghost world_, _the explorer_, _forest and island_, _ocean and creek_, i was often kept informed when i should otherwise have been ignorant of your whereabouts and designs. for instance, when you had disappeared into the forest of the incas, i got the first whisper of your strange adventures and discoveries in the buried cities of eudori from a correspondent of _the journal of adventure_ long before the details given in _the times_ of the rock-temple of the primeval savages, where only remained the little dragon serpents, whose giant ancestors were rudely sculptured on the sacrificial altar. i well remember how i thrilled at even that meagre account of your going in alone into that veritable hell. it was from _occultism_ that i learned how you had made a stay alone in the haunted catacombs of elora, in the far recesses of the himalayas, and of the fearful experiences which, when you came out shuddering and ghastly, overcame to almost epileptic fear those who had banded themselves together to go as far as the rock-cut approach to the hidden temple. all such things i read with rejoicing. you were shaping yourself for a wider and loftier adventure, which would crown more worthily your matured manhood. when i read of you in a description of mihask, in madagascar, and the devil-worship there rarely held, i felt i had only to wait for your home-coming in order to broach the enterprise i had so long contemplated. this was what i read: "he is a man to whom no adventure is too wild or too daring. his reckless bravery is a byword amongst many savage peoples and amongst many others not savages, whose fears are not of material things, but of the world of mysteries in and beyond the grave. he dares not only wild animals and savage men; but has tackled african magic and indian mysticism. the psychical research society has long exploited his deeds of valiance, and looked upon him as perhaps their most trusted agent or source of discovery. he is in the very prime of life, of almost giant stature and strength, trained to the use of all arms of all countries, inured to every kind of hardship, subtle-minded and resourceful, understanding human nature from its elemental form up. to say that he is fearless would be inadequate. in a word, he is a man whose strength and daring fit him for any enterprise of any kind. he would dare and do anything in the world or out of it, on the earth or under it, in the sea or--in the air, fearing nothing material or unseen, not man or ghost, nor god nor devil." if you ever care to think of it, i carried that cutting in my pocket-book from that hour i read it till now. remember, again, i say, that i never interfered in the slightest way in any of your adventures. i wanted you to "dree your own weird," as the scotch say; and i wanted to know of it--that was all. now, as i hold you fully equipped for greater enterprise, i want to set your feet on the road and to provide you with the most potent weapon--beyond personal qualities--for the winning of great honour--a gain, my dear nephew, which, i am right sure, does and will appeal to you as it has ever done to me. i have worked for it for more than fifty years; but now that the time has come when the torch is slipping from my old hands, i look to you, my dearest kinsman, to lift it and carry it on. the little nation of the blue mountains has from the first appealed to me. it is poor and proud and brave. its people are well worth winning, and i would advise you to throw in your lot with them. you may find them hard to win, for when peoples, like individuals, are poor and proud, these qualities are apt to react on each other to an endless degree. these men are untamable, and no one can ever succeed with them unless he is with them in all-in-all, and is a leader recognized. but if you can win them they are loyal to death. if you are ambitious--and i know you are--there may be a field for you in such a country. with your qualifications, fortified by the fortune which i am happy enough to be able to leave you, you may dare much and go far. should i be alive when you return from your exploration in northern south america, i may have the happiness of helping you to this or any other ambition, and i shall deem it a privilege to share it with you; but time is going on. i am in my seventy-second year . . . the years of man are three-score and ten--i suppose you understand; i do . . . let me point out this: for ambitious projects the great nationalities are impossible to a stranger--and in our own we are limited by loyalty (and common-sense). it is only in a small nation that great ambitions can be achieved. if you share my own views and wishes, the blue mountains is your ground. i hoped at one time that i might yet become a voivode--even a great one. but age has dulled my personal ambitions as it has cramped my powers. i no longer dream of such honour for myself, though i do look on it as a possibility for you if you care for it. through my will you will have a great position and a great estate, and though you may have to yield up the latter in accordance with my wish, as already expressed in this letter, the very doing so will give you an even greater hold than this possession in the hearts of the mountaineers, should they ever come to know it. should it be that at the time you inherit from me the voivode vissarion should not be alive, it may serve or aid you to know that in such case you would be absolved from any conditions of mine, though i trust you would in that, as in all other matters, hold obligation enforced by your own honour as to my wishes. therefore the matter stands thus: if vissarion lives, you will relinquish the estates. should such not be the case, you will act as you believe that i would wish you to. in either case the mountaineers should not know from you in any way of the secret contracts between vissarion and myself. enlightenment of the many should (if ever) come from others than yourself. and unless such take place, you would leave the estates without any _quid pro quo_ whatever. this you need not mind, for the fortune you will inherit will leave you free and able to purchase other estates in the blue mountains or elsewhere that you may select in the world. if others attack, attack them, and quicker and harder than they can, if such be a possibility. should it ever be that you inherit the castle of vissarion on the spear of ivan, remember that i had it secretly fortified and armed against attack. there are not only massive grilles, but doors of chilled bronze where such be needed. my adherent rooke, who has faithfully served me for nearly forty years, and has gone on my behalf on many perilous expeditions, will, i trust, serve you in the same way. treat him well for my sake, if not for your own. i have left him provision for a life of ease; but he would rather take a part in dangerous enterprises. he is silent as the grave and as bold as a lion. he knows every detail of the fortification and of the secret means of defence. a word in your ear--he was once a pirate. he was then in his extreme youth, and long since changed his ways in this respect; but from this fact you can understand his nature. you will find him useful should occasion ever arise. should you accept the conditions of my letter, you are to make the blue mountains--in part, at least--your home, living there a part of the year, if only for a week, as in england men of many estates share the time amongst them. to this you are not bound, and no one shall have power to compel you or interfere with you. i only express a hope. but one thing i do more than hope--i desire, if you will honour my wishes, that, come what may, you are to keep your british nationality, unless by special arrangement with and consent of the privy council. such arrangement to be formally made by my friend, edward bingham trent, or whomsoever he may appoint by deed or will to act in the matter, and made in such a way that no act save that alone of parliament in all its estates, and endorsed by the king, may or can prevail against it. my last word to you is, be bold and honest, and fear not. most things--even kingship--_somewhere_ may now and again be won by the sword. a brave heart and a strong arm may go far. but whatever is so won cannot be held merely by the sword. justice alone can hold in the long run. where men trust they will follow, and the rank and file of people want to follow, not to lead. if it be your fortune to lead, be bold. be wary, if you will; exercise any other faculties that may aid or guard. shrink from nothing. avoid nothing that is honourable in itself. take responsibility when such presents itself. what others shrink from, accept. that is to be great in what world, little or big, you move. fear nothing, no matter of what kind danger may be or whence it come. the only real way to meet danger is to despise it--except with your brains. meet it in the gate, not the hall. my kinsman, the name of my race and your own, worthily mingled in your own person, now rests with you! _letter from rupert sent leger_, _bodmin street_, _victoria_, _s.w._, _to miss janet mackelpie_, _croom_, _ross-shire_. _january_ , . my dearest aunt janet, you will, i know, be rejoiced to hear of the great good-fortune which has come to me through the will of uncle roger. perhaps sir colin will have written to you, as he is one of the executors, and there is a bequest to you, so i must not spoil his pleasure of telling you of that part himself. unfortunately, i am not free to speak fully of my own legacy yet, but i want you to know that at worst i am to receive an amount many times more than i ever dreamt of possessing through any possible stroke of fortune. so soon as i can leave london--where, of course, i must remain until things are settled--i am coming up to croom to see you, and i hope i shall by then be able to let you know so much that you will be able to guess at the extraordinary change that has come to my circumstances. it is all like an impossible dream: there is nothing like it in the "arabian nights." however, the details must wait, i am pledged to secrecy for the present. and you must be pledged too. you won't mind, dear, will you? what i want to do at present is merely to tell you of my own good-fortune, and that i shall be going presently to live for a while at vissarion. won't you come with me, aunt janet? we shall talk more of this when i come to croom; but i want you to keep the subject in your mind. your loving rupert. _from rupert sent leger's journal_. _january_ , . things have been humming about me so fast that i have had hardly time to think. but some of the things have been so important, and have so changed my entire outlook on life, that it may be well to keep some personal record of them. i may some day want to remember some detail--perhaps the sequence of events, or something like that--and it may be useful. it ought to be, if there is any justice in things, for it will be an awful swot to write it when i have so many things to think of now. aunt janet, i suppose, will like to keep it locked up for me, as she does with all my journals and papers. that is one good thing about aunt janet amongst many: she has no curiosity, or else she has some other quality which keeps her from prying as other women would. it would seem that she has not so much as opened the cover of one of my journals ever in her life, and that she would not without my permission. so this can in time go to her also. i dined last night with mr. trent, by his special desire. the dinner was in his own rooms. dinner sent in from the hotel. he would not have any waiters at all, but made them send in the dinner all at once, and we helped ourselves. as we were quite alone, we could talk freely, and we got over a lot of ground while we were dining. he began to tell me about uncle roger. i was glad of that, for, of course, i wanted to know all i could of him, and the fact was i had seen very little of him. of course, when i was a small kid he was often in our house, for he was very fond of mother, and she of him. but i fancy that a small boy was rather a nuisance to him. and then i was at school, and he was away in the east. and then poor mother died while he was living in the blue mountains, and i never saw him again. when i wrote to him about aunt janet he answered me very kindly but he was so very just in the matter that i got afraid of him. and after that i ran away, and have been roaming ever since; so there was never a chance of our meeting. but that letter of his has opened my eyes. to think of him following me that way all over the world, waiting to hold out a helping hand if i should want it, i only wish i had known, or even suspected, the sort of man he was, and how he cared for me, and i would sometimes have come back to see him, if i had to come half round the world. well, all i can do now is to carry out his wishes; that will be my expiation for my neglect. he knew what he wanted exactly, and i suppose i shall come in time to know it all and understand it, too. i was thinking something like this when mr. trent began to talk, so that all he said fitted exactly into my own thought. the two men were evidently great friends--i should have gathered that, anyhow, from the will--and the letters--so i was not surprised when mr. trent told me that they had been to school together, uncle roger being a senior when he was a junior; and had then and ever after shared each other's confidence. mr. trent, i gathered, had from the very first been in love with my mother, even when she was a little girl; but he was poor and shy, and did not like to speak. when he had made up his mind to do so, he found that she had by then met my father, and could not help seeing that they loved each other. so he was silent. he told me he had never said a word about it to anyone--not even to my uncle roger, though he knew from one thing and another, though he never spoke of it, that he would like it. i could not help seeing that the dear old man regarded me in a sort of parental way--i have heard of such romantic attachments being transferred to the later generation. i was not displeased with it; on the contrary, i liked him better for it. i love my mother so much--i always think of her in the present--that i cannot think of her as dead. there is a tie between anyone else who loved her and myself. i tried to let mr. trent see that i liked him, and it pleased him so much that i could see his liking for me growing greater. before we parted he told me that he was going to give up business. he must have understood how disappointed i was--for how could i ever get along at all without him?--for he said, as he laid a hand quite affectionately, i thought--on my shoulder: "i shall have one client, though, whose business i always hope to keep, and for whom i shall be always whilst i live glad to act--if he will have me." i did not care to speak as i took his hand. he squeezed mine, too, and said very earnestly: "i served your uncle's interests to the very best of my ability for nearly fifty years. he had full confidence in me, and i was proud of his trust. i can honestly say, rupert--you won't mind me using that familiarity, will you?--that, though the interests which i guarded were so vast that without abusing my trust i could often have used my knowledge to my personal advantage, i never once, in little matters or big, abused that trust--no, not even rubbed the bloom off it. and now that he has remembered me in his will so generously that i need work no more, it will be a very genuine pleasure and pride to me to carry out as well as i can the wishes that i partly knew, and now realize more fully towards you, his nephew." in the long chat which we had, and which lasted till midnight, he told me many very interesting things about uncle roger. when, in the course of conversation, he mentioned that the fortune uncle roger left must be well over a hundred millions, i was so surprised that i said out loud--i did not mean to ask a question: "how on earth could a man beginning with nothing realize such a gigantic fortune?" "by all honest ways," he answered, "and his clever human insight. he knew one half of the world, and so kept abreast of all public and national movements that he knew the critical moment to advance money required. he was always generous, and always on the side of freedom. there are nations at this moment only now entering on the consolidation of their liberty, who owe all to him, who knew when and how to help. no wonder that in some lands they will drink to his memory on great occasions as they used to drink his health." "as you and i shall do now, sir!" i said, as i filled my glass and stood up. we drank it in bumpers. we did not say a word, either of us; but the old gentleman held out his hand, and i took it. and so, holding hands, we drank in silence. it made me feel quite choky; and i could see that he, too, was moved. _from e. b. trent's memoranda_. _january_ , . i asked mr. rupert sent leger to dine with me at my office alone, as i wished to have a chat with him. to-morrow sir colin and i will have a formal meeting with him for the settlement of affairs, but i thought it best to have an informal talk with him alone first, as i wished to tell him certain matters which will make our meeting to-morrow more productive of utility, as he can now have more full understanding of the subjects which we have to discuss. sir colin is all that can be in manhood, and i could wish no better colleague in the executorship of this phenomenal will; but he has not had the privilege of a lifelong friendship with the testator as i have had. and as rupert sent leger had to learn intimate details regarding his uncle, i could best make my confidences alone. to-morrow we shall have plenty of formality. i was delighted with rupert. he is just what i could have wished his mother's boy to be--or a son of my own to be, had i had the good-fortune to have been a father. but this is not for me. i remember long, long ago reading a passage in lamb's essays which hangs in my mind: "the children of alice call bartrum father." some of my old friends would laugh to see _me_ write this, but these memoranda are for my eyes alone, and no one shall see them till after my death, unless by my own permission. the boy takes some qualities after his father; he has a daring that is disturbing to an old dryasdust lawyer like me. but somehow i like him more than i ever liked anyone--any man--in my life--more even than his uncle, my old friend, roger melton; and lord knows i had much cause to like him. i have more than ever now. it was quite delightful to see the way the young adventurer was touched by his uncle's thought of him. he is a truly gallant fellow, but venturesome exploits have not affected the goodness of heart. it is a pleasure to me to think that roger and colin came together apropos of the boy's thoughtful generosity towards miss mackelpie. the old soldier will be a good friend to him, or i am much mistaken. with an old lawyer like me, and an old soldier like him, and a real old gentlewoman like miss mackelpie, who loves the very ground he walks on, to look after him, together with all his own fine qualities and his marvellous experience of the world, and the gigantic wealth that will surely be his, that young man will go far. _letter from rupert sent leger to miss janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _january_ , . my dearest aunt janet, it is all over--the first stage of it; and that is as far as i can get at present. i shall have to wait for a few days--or it may be weeks--in london for the doing of certain things now necessitated by my acceptance of uncle roger's bequest. but as soon as i can, dear, i shall come down to croom and spend with you as many days as possible. i shall then tell you all i am at liberty to tell, and i shall thank you personally for your consent to come with me to vissarion. oh, how i wish my dear mother had lived to be with us! it would have made her happy, i know, to have come; and then we three who shared together the old dear, hard days would have shared in the same way the new splendour. i would try to show all my love and gratitude to you both . . . you must take the whole burden of it now, dear, for you and i are alone. no, not alone, as we used to be, for i have now two old friends who are already dear to me. one is so to you already. sir colin is simply splendid, and so, in his own way, is mr. trent. i am lucky, aunt janet, to have two such men to think of affairs for me. am i not? i shall send you a wire as soon as ever i can see my way to get through my work; and i want you to think over all the things you ever wished for in your life, so that i may--if there is any mortal way of doing so--get them for you. you will not stand in the way of my having this great pleasure, will you, dear? good-bye. your loving rupert. _e. b. trent's memoranda_. _january_ , . the formal meeting of sir colin and myself with rupert sent leger went off quite satisfactorily. from what he had said yesterday, and again last night, i had almost come to expect an unreserved acceptance of everything stated or implied in roger melton's will; but when we had sat round the table--this appeared, by the way, to be a formality for which we were all prepared, for we sat down as if by instinct--the very first words he said were: "as i suppose i must go through this formality, i may as well say at once that i accept every possible condition which was in the mind of uncle roger; and to this end i am prepared to sign, seal, and deliver--or whatever is the ritual--whatever document you, sir"--turning to me--"may think necessary or advisable, and of which you both approve." he stood up and walked about the room for a few moments, sir colin and i sitting quite still, silent. he came back to his seat, and after a few seconds of nervousness--a rare thing with him, i fancy--said: "i hope you both understand--of course, i know you do; i only speak because this is an occasion for formality--that i am willing to accept, and at once! i do so, believe me, not to get possession of this vast fortune, but because of him who has given it. the man who was fond of me, and who trusted me, and yet had strength to keep his own feelings in check--who followed me in spirit to far lands and desperate adventures, and who, though he might be across the world from me, was ready to put out a hand to save or help me, was no common man; and his care of my mother's son meant no common love for my dear mother. and so she and i together accept his trust, come of it what may. i have been thinking it over all night, and all the time i could not get out of the idea that mother was somewhere near me. the only thought that could debar me from doing as i wished to do--and intend to do--would be that she would not approve. now that i am satisfied she would approve, i accept. whatever may result or happen, i shall go on following the course that he has set for me. so help me, god!" sir colin stood up, and i must say a more martial figure i never saw. he was in full uniform, for he was going on to the king's levee after our business. he drew his sword from the scabbard and laid it naked on the table before rupert, and said: "you are going, sir, into a strange and danger country--i have been reading about it since we met--and you will be largely alone amongst fierce mountaineers who resent the very presence of a stranger, and to whom you are, and must be, one. if you should ever be in any trouble and want a man to stand back to back with you, i hope you will give me the honour!" as he said this pointed to his sword. rupert and i were also standing now--one cannot sit down in the presence of such an act as that. "you are, i am proud to say, allied with my family: and i only wish to god it was closer to myself." rupert took him by the hand and bent his head before him as answered: "the honour is mine, sir colin; and no greater can come to any man than that which you have just done me. the best way i can show how i value it will be to call on you if i am ever in such a tight place. by jove, sir, this is history repeating itself. aunt janet used to tell me when i was a youngster how mackelpie of croom laid his sword before prince charlie. i hope i may tell her of this; it would make her so proud and happy. don't imagine, sir, that i am thinking myself a charles edward. it is only that aunt janet is so good to me that i might well think i was." sir colin bowed grandly: "rupert sent leger, my dear niece is a woman of great discretion and discernment. and, moreover, i am thinking she has in her some of the gift of second sight that has been a heritage of our blood. and i am one with my niece--in everything!" the whole thing was quite regal in manner; it seemed to take me back to the days of the pretender. it was not, however, a time for sentiment, but for action--we had met regarding the future, not the past; so i produced the short document i had already prepared. on the strength of his steadfast declaration that he would accept the terms of the will and the secret letters, i had got ready a formal acceptance. when i had once again formally asked mr. sent leger's wishes, and he had declared his wish to accept, i got in a couple of my clerks as witnesses. then, having again asked him in their presence if it was his wish to declare acceptance of the conditions, the document was signed and witnessed, sir colin and i both appending our signatures to the attestation. and so the first stage of rupert sent leger's inheritance is completed. the next step will not have to be undertaken on my part until the expiration of six months from his entry on his estate at vissarion. as he announces his intention of going within a fortnight, this will mean practically a little over six months from now. book ii: vissarion _letter from rupert sent leger_, _castle of vissarion_, _the spear of ivan_, _land of the blue mountains_, _to miss janet mackelpie_, _croom castle_, _ross-shire_, _n.b._ _january_ , . my dearest aunt janet, as you see, i am here at last. having got my formal duty done, as you made me promise--my letters reporting arrival to sir colin and mr. trent are lying sealed in front of me ready to post (for nothing shall go before yours)--i am free to speak to you. this is a most lovely place, and i hope you will like it. i am quite sure you will. we passed it in the steamer coming from trieste to durazzo. i knew the locality from the chart, and it was pointed out to me by one of the officers with whom i had become quite friendly, and who kindly showed me interesting places whenever we got within sight of shore. the spear of ivan, on which the castle stands, is a headland running well out into the sea. it is quite a peculiar place--a sort of headland on a headland, jutting out into a deep, wide bay, so that, though it is a promontory, it is as far away from the traffic of coast life as anything you can conceive. the main promontory is the end of a range of mountains, and looms up vast, towering over everything, a mass of sapphire blue. i can well understand how the country came to be called the "land of the blue mountains," for it is all mountains, and they are all blue! the coast-line is magnificent--what is called "iron-bound"--being all rocky; sometimes great frowning precipices; sometimes jutting spurs of rock; again little rocky islets, now and again clad with trees and verdure, at other places stark and bare. elsewhere are little rocky bays and indentations--always rock, and often with long, interesting caves. some of the shores of the bays are sandy, or else ridges of beautiful pebbles, where the waves make endless murmur. but of all the places i have seen--in this land or any other--the most absolutely beautiful is vissarion. it stands at the ultimate point of the promontory--i mean the little, or, rather, lesser promontory--that continues on the spur of the mountain range. for the lesser promontory or extension of the mountain is in reality vast; the lowest bit of cliff along the sea-front is not less than a couple of hundred feet high. that point of rock is really very peculiar. i think dame nature must, in the early days of her housekeeping--or, rather, house-_building_--have intended to give her little child, man, a rudimentary lesson in self-protection. it is just a natural bastion such as a titanic vauban might have designed in primeval times. so far as the castle is concerned, it is alone visible from the sea. any enemy approaching could see only that frowning wall of black rock, of vast height and perpendicular steepness. even the old fortifications which crown it are not built, but cut in the solid rock. a long narrow creek of very deep water, walled in by high, steep cliffs, runs in behind the castle, bending north and west, making safe and secret anchorage. into the creek falls over a precipice a mountain-stream, which never fails in volume of water. on the western shore of that creek is the castle, a huge pile of buildings of every style of architecture, from the twelfth century to where such things seemed to stop in this dear old-world land--about the time of queen elizabeth. so it is pretty picturesque. i can tell you. when we got the first glimpse of the place from the steamer the officer, with whom i was on the bridge, pointed towards it and said: "that is where we saw the dead woman floating in a coffin." that was rather interesting, so i asked him all about it. he took from his pocket-book a cutting from an italian paper, which he handed to me. as i can read and speak italian fairly well, it was all right; but as you, my dear aunt janet, are not skilled in languages, and as i doubt if there is any assistance of the kind to be had at croom, i do not send it. but as i have heard that the item has been produced in the last number of _the journal of occultism_, you will be easily able to get it. as he handed me the cutting he said: "i am destilia!" his story was so strange that i asked him a good many questions about it. he answered me quite frankly on every point, but always adhering stoutly to the main point--namely, that it was no phantom or mirage, no dream or imperfect vision in a fog. "we were four in all who saw it," he said--"three from the bridge and the englishman, caulfield--from the bows--whose account exactly agreed with what we saw. captain mirolani and falamano and i were all awake and in good trim. we looked with our night-glasses, which are more than usually powerful. you know, we need good glasses for the east shore of the adriatic and for among the islands to the south. there was a full moon and a brilliant light. of course we were a little way off, for though the spear of ivan is in deep water, one has to be careful of currents, for it is in just such places that the dangerous currents run." the agent of lloyd's told me only a few weeks ago that it was only after a prolonged investigation of the tidal and sea currents that the house decided to except from ordinary sea risks losses due to a too close course by the spear of ivan. when i tried to get a little more definite account of the coffin-boat and the dead lady that is given in _the journal of occultism_ he simply shrugged his shoulders. "signor, it is all," he said. "that englishman wrote everything after endless questioning." so you see, my dear, that our new home is not without superstitious interests of its own. it is rather a nice idea, is it not, to have a dead woman cruising round our promontory in a coffin? i doubt if even at croom you can beat that. "makes the place kind of homey," as an american would say. when you come, aunt janet, you will not feel lonesome, at any rate, and it will save us the trouble of importing some of your highland ghosts to make you feel at home in the new land. i don't know, but we might ask the stiff to come to tea with us. of course, it would be a late tea. somewhere between midnight and cock-crow would be about the etiquette of the thing, i fancy! but i must tell you all the realities of the castle and around it. so i will write again within a day or two, and try to let you know enough to prepare you for coming here. till then adieu, my dear. your loving rupert. _from rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _january_ , . i hope i did not frighten you, dear aunt janet, by the yarn of the lady in the coffin. but i know you are not afraid; you have told me too many weird stories for me to dread that. besides, you have second sight--latent, at all events. however, there won't be any more ghosts, or about ghosts, in this letter. i want to tell you all about our new home. i am so glad you are coming out so soon; i am beginning to feel so lonesome--i walk about sometimes aimlessly, and find my thoughts drifting in such an odd way. if i didn't know better, i might begin to think i was in love! there is no one here to be in love with; so make your mind easy, aunt janet. not that you would be unhappy, i know, dear, if i _did_ fall in love. i suppose i must marry some day. it is a duty now, i know, when there is such an estate as uncle roger has left me. and i know this: i shall never marry any woman unless i love her. and i am right sure that if i do love her you will love her, too, aunt janet! won't you, dear? it wouldn't be half a delight if you didn't. it won't if you don't. there, now! but before i begin to describe vissarion i shall throw a sop to you as a chatelaine; that may give you patience to read the rest. the castle needs a lot of things to make it comfortable--as you would consider it. in fact, it is absolutely destitute of everything of a domestic nature. uncle roger had it vetted on the defence side, and so far it could stand a siege. but it couldn't cook a dinner or go through a spring-cleaning! as you know, i am not much up in domestic matters, and so i cannot give you details; but you may take it that it wants everything. i don't mean furniture, or silver, or even gold-plate, or works of art, for it is full of the most magnificent old things that you can imagine. i think uncle roger must have been a collector, and gathered a lot of good things in all sorts of places, stored them for years, and then sent them here. but as to glass, china, delft, all sorts of crockery, linen, household appliances and machinery, cooking utensils--except of the simplest--there are none. i don't think uncle roger could have lived here more than on a temporary picnic. so far as i only am concerned, i am all right; a gridiron and a saucepan are all _i_ want--and i can use them myself. but, dear aunt janet, i don't want you to pig it. i would like you to have everything you can imagine, and all of the very best. cost doesn't count now for us, thanks to uncle roger; and so i want you to order all. i know you, dear--being a woman--won't object to shopping. but it will have to be wholesale. this is an enormous place, and will swallow up all you can buy--like a quicksand. do as you like about choosing, but get all the help you can. don't be afraid of getting too much. you can't, or of being idle when you are here. i assure you that when you come there will be so much to do and so many things to think of that you will want to get away from it all. and, besides, aunt janet, i hope you won't be too long. indeed, i don't wish to be selfish, but your boy is lonely, and wants you. and when you get here you will be an empress. i don't altogether like doing so, lest i should offend a millionairess like you; but it may facilitate matters, and the way's of commerce are strict, though devious. so i send you a cheque for , pounds for the little things: and a letter to the bank to honour your own cheques for any amount i have got. i think, by the way, i should, if i were you, take or send out a few servants--not too many at first, only just enough to attend on our two selves. you can arrange to send for any more you may want later. engage them, and arrange for their being paid--when they are in our service we must treat them well--and then they can be at our call as you find that we want them. i think you should secure, say, fifty or a hundred--'tis an awfu' big place, aunt janet! and in the same way will you secure--and, of course, arrange for pay similarly--a hundred men, exclusive of any servants you think it well to have. i should like the general, if he can give the time, to choose or pass them. i want clansmen that i can depend on, if need be. we are going to live in a country which is at present strange to us, and it is well to look things in the face. i know sir colin will only have men who are a credit to scotland and to ross and to croom--men who will impress the blue mountaineers. i know they will take them to their hearts--certainly if any of them are bachelors the girls will! forgive me! but if we are to settle here, our followers will probably want to settle also. moreover, the blue mountaineers may want followers also! and will want them to settle, too, and have successors! now for the description of the place. well, i simply can't just now. it is all so wonderful and so beautiful. the castle--i have written so much already about other things that i really must keep the castle for another letter! love to sir colin if he is at croom. and oh, dear aunt janet, how i wish that my dear mother was coming out! it all seems so dark and empty without her. how she would have enjoyed it! how proud she would have been! and, my dear, if she could be with us again, how grateful she would have been to you for all you have done for her boy! as i am, believe me, most truly and sincerely and affectionately grateful. your loving rupert. _rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _january_ , . my dear aunt janet, please read this as if it was a part of the letter i wrote yesterday. the castle itself is so vast that i really can't describe it in detail. so i am waiting till you come; and then you and i will go over it together and learn all that we can about it. we shall take rooke with us, and, as he is supposed to know every part of it, from the keep to the torture-chamber, we can spend a few days over it. of course, i have been over most of it, since i came--that, is, i went at various times to see different portions--the battlements, the bastions, the old guard-room, the hall, the chapel, the walls, the roof. and i have been through some of the network of rock passages. uncle roger must have spent a mint of money on it, so far as i can see; and though i am not a soldier, i have been in so many places fortified in different ways that i am not entirely ignorant of the subject. he has restored it in such an up-to-date way that it is practically impregnable to anything under big guns or a siege-train. he has gone so far as to have certain outworks and the keep covered with armoured plating of what looks like harveyized steel. you will wonder when you see it. but as yet i really know only a few rooms, and am familiar with only one--my own room. the drawing-room--not the great hall, which is a vast place; the library--a magnificent one, but in sad disorder--we must get a librarian some day to put it in trim; and the drawing-room and boudoir and bedroom suite which i have selected for you, are all fine. but my own room is what suits me best, though i do not think you would care for it for yourself. if you do, you shall have it. it was uncle roger's own room when he stayed here; living in it for a few days served to give me more insight to his character--or rather to his mind--than i could have otherwise had. it is just the kind of place i like myself; so, naturally, i understand the other chap who liked it too. it is a fine big room, not quite within the castle, but an outlying part of it. it is not detached, or anything of that sort, but is a sort of garden-room built on to it. there seems to have been always some sort of place where it is, for the passages and openings inside seem to accept or recognize it. it can be shut off if necessary--it would be in case of attack--by a great slab of steel, just like the door of a safe, which slides from inside the wall, and can be operated from either inside or outside--if you know how. that is from my room or from within the keep. the mechanism is a secret, and no one but rooke and i know it. the room opens out through a great french window--the french window is modern, i take it, and was arranged by or for uncle roger; i think there must have been always a large opening there, for centuries at least--which opens on a wide terrace or balcony of white marble, extending right and left. from this a white marble stair lies straight in front of the window, and leads down to the garden. the balcony and staircase are quite ancient--of old italian work, beautifully carved, and, of course, weather-worn through centuries. there is just that little tinging of green here and there which makes all outdoor marble so charming. it is hard to believe at times that it is a part of a fortified castle, it is so elegant and free and open. the first glance of it would make a burglar's heart glad. he would say to himself: "here is the sort of crib i like when i'm on the job. you can just walk in and out as you choose." but, aunt janet, old roger was cuter than any burglar. he had the place so guarded that the burglar would have been a baffled burglar. there are two steel shields which can slide out from the wall and lock into the other side right across the whole big window. one is a grille of steel bands that open out into diamond-shaped lozenges. nothing bigger than a kitten could get through; and yet you can see the garden and the mountains and the whole view--much the same as you ladies can see through your veils. the other is a great sheet of steel, which slides out in a similar way in different grooves. it is not, of course, so heavy and strong as the safe-door which covers the little opening in the main wall, but rooke tells me it is proof against the heaviest rifle-hall. having told you this, i must tell you, too, aunt janet, lest you should be made anxious by the _arriere-pensee_ of all these warlike measures of defence, that i always sleep at night with one of these iron screens across the window. of course, when i am awake i leave it open. as yet i have tried only, but not used, the grille; and i don't think i shall ever use anything else, for it is a perfect guard. if it should be tampered with from outside it would sound an alarm at the head of the bed, and the pressing of a button would roll out the solid steel screen in front of it. as a matter of fact, i have been so used to the open that i don't feel comfortable shut in. i only close windows against cold or rain. the weather here is delightful--as yet, at all events--but they tell me that the rainy season will be on us before very long. i think you will like my den, aunty dear, though it will doubtless be a worry to you to see it so untidy. but that can't be helped. i must be untidy _somewhere_; and it is best in my own den! again i find my letter so long that i must cut it off now and go on again to-night. so this must go as it stands. i shall not cause you to wait to hear all i can tell you about our new home. your loving rupert. _from rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _january_ , . my dear aunt janet, my den looks out, as i told you in my last letter, on the garden, or, to speak more accurately, on _one_ of the gardens, for there are acres of them. this is the old one, which must be almost as old as the castle itself, for it was within the defences in the old days of bows. the wall that surrounds the inner portion of it has long ago been levelled, but sufficient remains at either end where it joined the outer defences to show the long casemates for the bowmen to shoot through and the raised stone gallery where they stood. it is just the same kind of building as the stone-work of the sentry's walk on the roof and of the great old guard-room under it. but whatever the garden may have been, and no matter how it was guarded, it is a most lovely place. there are whole sections of garden here of various styles--greek, italian, french, german, dutch, british, spanish, african, moorish--all the older nationalities. i am going to have a new one laid out for you--a japanese garden. i have sent to the great gardener of japan, minaro, to make the plans for it, and to come over with workmen to carry it out. he is to bring trees and shrubs and flowers and stone-work, and everything that can be required; and you shall superintend the finishing, if not the doing, of it yourself. we have such a fine head of water here, and the climate is, they tell me, usually so lovely that we can do anything in the gardening way. if it should ever turn out that the climate does not suit, we shall put a great high glass roof over it, and _make_ a suitable climate. this garden in front of my room is the old italian garden. it must have been done with extraordinary taste and care, for there is not a bit of it which is not rarely beautiful. sir thomas browne himself, for all his _quincunx_, would have been delighted with it, and have found material for another "garden of cyrus." it is so big that there are endless "episodes" of garden beauty i think all italy must have been ransacked in old times for garden stone-work of exceptional beauty; and these treasures have been put together by some master-hand. even the formal borders of the walks are of old porous stone, which takes the weather-staining so beautifully, and are carved in endless variety. now that the gardens have been so long neglected or left in abeyance, the green staining has become perfect. though the stone-work is itself intact, it has all the picturesque effect of the wear and ruin wrought by many centuries. i am having it kept for you just as it is, except that i have had the weeds and undergrowth cleared away so that its beauties might be visible. but it is not merely the architect work of the garden that is so beautiful, nor is the assembling there of the manifold wealth of floral beauty--there is the beauty that nature creates by the hand of her servant, time. you see, aunt janet, how the beautiful garden inspires a danger-hardened old tramp like me to high-grade sentiments of poetic fancy! not only have limestone and sandstone, and even marble, grown green in time, but even the shrubs planted and then neglected have developed new kinds of beauty of their own. in some far-distant time some master-gardener of the vissarions has tried to realize an idea--that of tiny plants that would grow just a little higher than the flowers, so that the effect of an uneven floral surface would be achieved without any hiding of anything in the garden seen from anywhere. this is only my reading of what has been from the effect of what is! in the long period of neglect the shrubs have outlived the flowers. nature has been doing her own work all the time in enforcing the survival of the fittest. the shrubs have grown and grown, and have overtopped flower and weed, according to their inherent varieties of stature; to the effect that now you see irregularly scattered through the garden quite a number--for it is a big place--of vegetable products which from a landscape standpoint have something of the general effect of statues without the cramping feeling of detail. whoever it was that laid out that part of the garden or made the choice of items, must have taken pains to get strange specimens, for all those taller shrubs are in special colours, mostly yellow or white--white cypress, white holly, yellow yew, grey-golden box, silver juniper, variegated maple, spiraea, and numbers of dwarf shrubs whose names i don't know. i only know that when the moon shines--and this, my dear aunt janet, is the very land of moonlight itself!--they all look ghastly pale. the effect is weird to the last degree, and i am sure that you will enjoy it. for myself, as you know, uncanny things hold no fear. i suppose it is that i have been up against so many different kinds of fears, or, rather, of things which for most people have terrors of their own, that i have come to have a contempt--not an active contempt, you know, but a tolerative contempt--for the whole family of them. and you, too, will enjoy yourself here famously, i know. you'll have to collect all the stories of such matters in our new world and make a new book of facts for the psychical research society. it will be nice to see your own name on a title-page, won't it, aunt janet? _from rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _january_ , . my dear aunt janet, i stopped writing last night--do you know why? because i wanted to write more! this sounds a paradox, but it is true. the fact is that, as i go on telling you of this delightful place, i keep finding out new beauties myself. broadly speaking, it _is all_ beautiful. in the long view or the little view--as the telescope or the microscope directs--it is all the same. your eye can turn on nothing that does not entrance you. i was yesterday roaming about the upper part of time castle, and came across some delightful nooks, which at once i became fond of, and already like them as if i had known them all my life. i felt at first a sense of greediness when i had appropriated to myself several rooms in different places--i who have never in my life had more than one room which i could call my own--and that only for a time! but when i slept on it the feeling changed, and its aspect is now not half bad. it is now under another classification--under a much more important label--_proprietorship_. if i were writing philosophy, i should here put in a cynical remark: "selfishness is an appanage of poverty. it might appear in the stud-book as by 'morals' out of 'wants.'" i have now three bedrooms arranged as my own particular dens. one of the other two was also a choice of uncle roger's. it is at the top of one of the towers to the extreme east, and from it i can catch the first ray of light over the mountains. i slept in it last night, and when i woke, as in my travelling i was accustomed to do, at dawn, i saw from my bed through an open window--a small window, for it is in a fortress tower--the whole great expanse to the east. not far off, and springing from the summit of a great ruin, where long ago a seed had fallen, rose a great silver-birch, and the half-transparent, drooping branches and hanging clusters of leaf broke the outline of the grey hills beyond, for the hills were, for a wonder, grey instead of blue. there was a mackerel sky, with the clouds dropping on the mountain-tops till you could hardly say which was which. it was a mackerel sky of a very bold and extraordinary kind--not a dish of mackerel, but a world of mackerel! the mountains are certainly most lovely. in this clear air they usually seem close at hand. it was only this morning, with the faint glimpse of the dawn whilst the night clouds were still unpierced by the sunlight, that i seemed to realize their greatness. i have seen the same enlightening effect of aerial perspective a few times before--in colorado, in upper india, in thibet, and in the uplands amongst the andes. there is certainly something in looking at things from above which tends to raise one's own self-esteem. from the height, inequalities simply disappear. this i have often felt on a big scale when ballooning, or, better still, from an aeroplane. even here from the tower the outlook is somehow quite different from below. one realizes the place and all around it, not in detail, but as a whole. i shall certainly sleep up here occasionally, when you have come and we have settled down to our life as it is to be. i shall live in my own room downstairs, where i can have the intimacy of the garden. but i shall appreciate it all the more from now and again losing the sense of intimacy for a while, and surveying it without the sense of one's own self-importance. i hope you have started on that matter of the servants. for myself, i don't care a button whether or not there are any servants at all; but i know well that you won't come till you have made your arrangements regarding them! another thing, aunt janet. you must not be killed with work here, and it is all so vast . . . why can't you get some sort of secretary who will write your letters and do all that sort of thing for you? i know you won't have a man secretary; but there are lots of women now who can write shorthand and typewrite. you could doubtless get one in the clan--someone with a desire to better herself. i know you would make her happy here. if she is not too young, all the better; she will have learned to hold her tongue and mind her own business, and not be too inquisitive. that would be a nuisance when we are finding our way about in a new country and trying to reconcile all sorts of opposites in a whole new country with new people, whom at first we shan't understand, and who certainly won't understand us; where every man carries a gun with as little thought of it as he has of buttons! good-bye for a while. your loving rupert. _from rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _february_ , . i am back in my own room again. already it seems to me that to get here again is like coming home. i have been going about for the last few days amongst the mountaineers and trying to make their acquaintance. it is a tough job; and i can see that there will be nothing but to stick to it. they are in reality the most primitive people i ever met--the most fixed to their own ideas, which belong to centuries back. i can understand now what people were like in england--not in queen elizabeth's time, for that was civilized time, but in the time of coeur-de-lion, or even earlier--and all the time with the most absolute mastery of weapons of precision. every man carries a rifle--and knows how to use it, too. i do believe they would rather go without their clothes than their guns if they had to choose between them. they also carry a handjar, which used to be their national weapon. it is a sort of heavy, straight cutlass, and they are so expert with it as well as so strong that it is as facile in the hands of a blue mountaineer as is a foil in the hands of a persian _maitre d'armes_. they are so proud and reserved that they make one feel quite small, and an "outsider" as well. i can see quite well that they rather resent my being here at all. it is not personal, for when alone with me they are genial, almost brotherly; but the moment a few of them get together they are like a sort of jury, with me as the criminal before them. it is an odd situation, and quite new to me. i am pretty well accustomed to all sorts of people, from cannibals to mahatmas, but i'm blessed if i ever struck such a type as this--so proud, so haughty, so reserved, so distant, so absolutely fearless, so honourable, so hospitable. uncle roger's head was level when he chose them out as a people to live amongst. do you know, aunt janet, i can't help feeling that they are very much like your own highlanders--only more so. i'm sure of one thing: that in the end we shall get on capitally together. but it will be a slow job, and will need a lot of patience. i have a feeling in my bones that when they know me better they will be very loyal and very true; and i am not a hair's-breadth afraid of them or anything they shall or might do. that is, of course, if i live long enough for them to have time to know me. anything may happen with such an indomitable, proud people to whom pride is more than victuals. after all, it only needs one man out of a crowd to have a wrong idea or to make a mistake as to one's motive--and there you are. but it will be all right that way, i am sure. i am come here to stay, as uncle roger wished. and stay i shall even if it has to be in a little bed of my own beyond the garden--seven feet odd long, and not too narrow--or else a stone-box of equal proportions in the vaults of st. sava's church across the creek--the old burial-place of the vissarions and other noble people for a good many centuries back . . . i have been reading over this letter, dear aunt janet, and i am afraid the record is rather an alarming one. but don't you go building up superstitious horrors or fears on it. honestly, i am only joking about death--a thing to which i have been rather prone for a good many years back. not in very good taste, i suppose, but certainly very useful when the old man with the black wings goes flying about you day and night in strange places, sometimes visible and at others invisible. but you can always hear wings, especially in the dark, when you cannot see them. _you_ know that, aunt janet, who come of a race of warriors, and who have special sight behind or through the black curtain. honestly, i am in no whit afraid of the blue mountaineers, nor have i a doubt of them. i love them already for their splendid qualities, and i am prepared to love them for themselves. i feel, too, that they will love me (and incidentally they are sure to love you). i have a sort of undercurrent of thought that there is something in their minds concerning me--something not painful, but disturbing; something that has a base in the past; something that has hope in it and possible pride, and not a little respect. as yet they can have had no opportunity of forming such impression from seeing me or from any thing i have done. of course, it may be that, although they are fine, tall, stalwart men, i am still a head and shoulders over the tallest of them that i have yet seen. i catch their eyes looking up at me as though they were measuring me, even when they are keeping away from me, or, rather, keeping me from them at arm's length. i suppose i shall understand what it all means some day. in the meantime there is nothing to do but to go on my own way--which is uncle roger's--and wait and be patient and just. i have learned the value of that, any way, in my life amongst strange peoples. good-night. your loving rupert. _from rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _to janet mackelpie_, _croom_. _february_ , . my dear aunt janet, i am more than rejoiced to hear that you are coming here so soon. this isolation is, i think, getting on my nerves. i thought for a while last night that i was getting on, but the reaction came all too soon. i was in my room in the east turret, the room on the _corbeille_, and saw here and there men passing silently and swiftly between the trees as though in secret. by-and-by i located their meeting-place, which was in a hollow in the midst of the wood just outside the "natural" garden, as the map or plan of the castle calls it. i stalked that place for all i was worth, and suddenly walked straight into the midst of them. there were perhaps two or three hundred gathered, about the very finest lot of men i ever saw in my life. it was in its way quite an experience, and one not likely to be repeated, for, as i told you, in this country every man carries a rifle, and knows how to use it. i do not think i have seen a single man (or married man either) without his rifle since i came here. i wonder if they take them with them to bed! well, the instant after i stood amongst them every rifle in the place was aimed straight at me. don't be alarmed, aunt janet; they did not fire at me. if they had i should not be writing to you now. i should be in that little bit of real estate or the stone box, and about as full of lead as i could hold. ordinarily, i take it, they would have fired on the instant; that is the etiquette here. but this time they--all separately but all together--made a new rule. no one said a word or, so far as i could see, made a movement. here came in my own experience. i had been more than once in a tight place of something of the same kind, so i simply behaved in the most natural way i could. i felt conscious--it was all in a flash, remember--that if i showed fear or cause for fear, or even acknowledged danger by so much as even holding up my hands, i should have drawn all the fire. they all remained stock-still, as though they had been turned into stone, for several seconds. then a queer kind of look flashed round them like wind over corn--something like the surprise one shows unconsciously on waking in a strange place. a second after they each dropped the rifle to the hollow of his arm and stood ready for anything. it was all as regular and quick and simultaneous as a salute at st. james's palace. happily i had no arms of any kind with me, so that there could be no complication. i am rather a quick hand myself when there is any shooting to be done. however, there was no trouble here, but the contrary; the blue mountaineers--it sounds like a new sort of bond street band, doesn't it?--treated me in quite a different way than they did when i first met them. they were amazingly civil, almost deferential. but, all time same, they were more distant than ever, and all the time i was there i could get not a whit closer to them. they seemed in a sort of way to be afraid or in awe of me. no doubt that will soon pass away, and when we know one another better we shall become close friends. they are too fine fellows not to be worth a little waiting for. (that sentence, by the way, is a pretty bad sentence! in old days you would have slippered me for it!) your journey is all arranged, and i hope you will be comfortable. rooke will meet you at liverpool street and look after everything. i shan't write again, but when we meet at fiume i shall begin to tell you all the rest. till then, good-bye. a good journey to you, and a happy meeting to us both. rupert. _letter from janet mackelpie_, _vissarion_, _to sir colin mackelpie_, _united service club_, _london_. _february_ , . dearest uncle, i had a very comfortable journey all across europe. rupert wrote to me some time ago to say that when i got to vissarion i should be an empress, and he certainly took care that on the way here i should be treated like one. rooke, who seems a wonderful old man, was in the next compartment to that reserved for me. at harwich he had everything arranged perfectly, and so right on to fiume. everywhere there were attentive officials waiting. i had a carriage all to myself, which i joined at antwerp--a whole carriage with a suite of rooms, dining-room, drawing-room, bedroom, even bath-room. there was a cook with a kitchen of his own on board, a real chef like a french nobleman in disguise. there were also a waiter and a servant-maid. my own maid maggie was quite awed at first. we were as far as cologne before she summoned up courage to order them about. whenever we stopped rooke was on the platform with local officials, and kept the door of my carriage like a sentry on duty. at fiume, when the train slowed down, i saw rupert waiting on the platform. he looked magnificent, towering over everybody there like a giant. he is in perfect health, and seemed glad to see me. he took me off at once on an automobile to a quay where an electric launch was waiting. this took us on board a beautiful big steam-yacht, which was waiting with full steam up and--how he got there i don't know--rooke waiting at the gangway. i had another suite all to myself. rupert and i had dinner together--i think the finest dinner i ever sat down to. this was very nice of rupert, for it was all for me. he himself only ate a piece of steak and drank a glass of water. i went to bed early, for, despite the luxury of the journey, i was very tired. i awoke in the grey of the morning, and came on deck. we were close to the coast. rupert was on the bridge with the captain, and rooke was acting as pilot. when rupert saw me, he ran down the ladder and took me up on the bridge. he left me there while he ran down again and brought me up a lovely fur cloak which i had never seen. he put it on me and kissed me. he is the tenderest-hearted boy in the world, as well as the best and bravest! he made me take his arm whilst he pointed out vissarion, towards which we were steering. it is the most lovely place i ever saw. i won't stop to describe it now, for it will be better that you see it for yourself and enjoy it all fresh as i did. the castle is an immense place. you had better ship off, as soon as all is ready here and you can arrange it, the servants whom i engaged; and i am not sure that we shall not want as many more. there has hardly been a mop or broom on the place for centuries, and i doubt if it ever had a thorough good cleaning all over since it was built. and, do you know, uncle, that it might be well to double that little army of yours that you are arranging for rupert? indeed, the boy told me himself that he was going to write to you about it. i think old lachlan and his wife, sandy's mary, had better be in charge of the maids when they come over. a lot of lassies like yon will be iller to keep together than a flock of sheep. so it will be wise to have authority over them, especially as none of them speaks a word of foreign tongues. rooke--you saw him at the station at liverpool street--will, if he be available, go over to bring the whole body here. he has offered to do it if i should wish. and, by the way, i think it will be well, when the time comes for their departure, if not only the lassies, but lachlan and sandy's mary, too, will call him _mister_ rooke. he is a very important person indeed here. he is, in fact, a sort of master of the castle, and though he is very self-suppressing, is a man of rarely fine qualities. also it will be well to keep authority. when your clansmen come over, he will have charge of them, too. dear me! i find i have written such a long letter, i must stop and get to work. i shall write again. your very affectionate janet. _from the same to the same_. _march_ , . dearest uncle, all goes well here, and as there is no news, i only write because you are a dear, and i want to thank you for all the trouble you have taken for me--and for rupert. i think we had better wait awhile before bringing out the servants. rooke is away on some business for rupert, and will not be back for some time; rupert thinks it may be a couple of months. there is no one else that he could send to take charge of the party from home, and i don't like the idea of all those lassies coming out without an escort. even lachlan and sandy's mary are ignorant of foreign languages and foreign ways. but as soon as rooke returns we can have them all out. i dare say you will have some of your clansmen ready by then, and i think the poor girls, who may feel a bit strange in a new country like this, where the ways are so different from ours, will feel easier when they know that there are some of their own mankind near them. perhaps it might be well that those of them who are engaged to each other--i know there are some--should marry before they come out here. it will be more convenient in many ways, and will save lodgment, and, besides, these blue mountaineers are very handsome men. good-night. janet. _sir colin mackelpie_, _croom_, _to janet mackelpie_, _vissarion_. _march_ , . my dear janet, i have duly received both your letters, and am delighted to find you are so well pleased with your new home. it must certainly be a very lovely and unique place, and i am myself longing to see it. i came up here three days ago, and am, as usual, feeling all the better for a breath of my native air. time goes on, my dear, and i am beginning to feel not so young as i was. tell rupert that the men are all fit, and longing to get out to him. they are certainly a fine lot of men. i don't think i ever saw a finer. i have had them drilled and trained as soldiers, and, in addition, have had them taught a lot of trades just as they selected themselves. so he shall have nigh him men who can turn their hands to anything--not, of course, that they all know every trade, but amongst them there is someone who can do whatever may be required. there are blacksmiths, carpenters, farriers, saddle-makers, gardeners, plumbers, cutlers, gunsmiths, so, as they all are farmers by origin and sportsmen by practice, they will make a rare household body of men. they are nearly all first-class shots, and i am having them practise with revolvers. they are being taught fencing and broadsword and ju-jitsu; i have organized them in military form, with their own sergeants and corporals. this morning i had an inspection, and i assure you, my dear, they could give points to the household troop in matters of drill. i tell you i am proud of my clansmen! i think you are quite wise about waiting to bring out the lassies, and wiser still about the marrying. i dare say there will be more marrying when they all get settled in a foreign country. i shall be glad of it, for as rupert is going to settle there, it will be good for him to have round him a little colony of his own people. and it will be good for them, too, for i know he will be good to them--as you will, my dear. the hills are barren here, and life is hard, and each year there is more and more demand for crofts, and sooner or later our people must thin out. and mayhap our little settlement of mackelpie clan away beyond the frontiers of the empire may be some service to the nation and the king. but this is a dream! i see that here i am beginning to realise in myself one part of isaiah's prophecy: "your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams." by the way, my dear, talking about dreams, i am sending you out some boxes of books which were in your rooms. they are nearly all on odd subjects that _we_ understand--second sight, ghosts, dreams (that was what brought the matter to my mind just now), superstitions, vampires, wehr-wolves, and all such uncanny folk and things. i looked over some of these books, and found your marks and underlining and comments, so i fancy you will miss them in your new home. you will, i am sure, feel more at ease with such old friends close to you. i have taken the names and sent the list to london, so that when you pay me a visit again you will be at home in all ways. if you come to me altogether, you will be more welcome still--if possible. but i am sure that rupert, who i know loves you very much, will try to make you so happy that you will not want to leave him. so i will have to come out often to see you both, even at the cost of leaving croom for so long. strange, is it not? that now, when, through roger melton's more than kind remembrance of me, i am able to go where i will and do what i will, i want more and more to remain at home by my own ingle. i don't think that anyone but you or rupert could get me away from it. i am working very hard at my little regiment, as i call it. they are simply fine, and will, i am sure, do us credit. the uniforms are all made, and well made, too. there is not a man of them that does not look like an officer. i tell you, janet, that when we turn out the vissarion guard we shall feel proud of them. i dare say that a couple of months will do all that can be done here. i shall come out with them myself. rupert writes me that he thinks it will be more comfortable to come out direct in a ship of our own. so when i go up to london in a few weeks' time i shall see about chartering a suitable vessel. it will certainly save a lot of trouble to us and anxiety to our people. would it not be well when i am getting the ship, if i charter one big enough to take out all your lassies, too? it is not as if they were strangers. after all, my dear, soldiers are soldiers and lassies are lassies. but these are all kinsfolk, as well as clansmen and clanswomen, and i, their chief, shall be there. let me know your views and wishes in this respect. mr. trent, whom i saw before leaving london, asked me to "convey to you his most respectful remembrances"--these were his very words, and here they are. trent is a nice fellow, and i like him. he has promised to pay me a visit here before the month is up, and i look forward to our both enjoying ourselves. good-bye, my dear, and the lord watch over you and our dear boy. your affectionate uncle, colin alexander mackelpie. book iii: the coming of the lady rupert sent leger's journal. _april_ , . i have waited till now--well into midday--before beginning to set down the details of the strange episode of last night. i have spoken with persons whom i know to be of normal type. i have breakfasted, as usual heartily, and have every reason to consider myself in perfect health and sanity. so that the record following may be regarded as not only true in substance, but exact as to details. i have investigated and reported on too many cases for the psychical research society to be ignorant of the necessity for absolute accuracy in such matters of even the minutest detail. yesterday was tuesday, the second day of april, . i passed a day of interest, with its fair amount of work of varying kinds. aunt janet and i lunched together, had a stroll round the gardens after tea--especially examining the site for the new japanese garden, which we shall call "janet's garden." we went in mackintoshes, for the rainy season is in its full, the only sign of its not being a repetition of the deluge being that breaks in the continuance are beginning. they are short at present but will doubtless enlarge themselves as the season comes towards an end. we dined together at seven. after dinner i had a cigar, and then joined aunt janet for an hour in her drawing-room. i left her at half-past ten, when i went to my own room and wrote some letters. at ten minutes past eleven i wound my watch, so i know the time accurately. having prepared for bed, i drew back the heavy curtain in front of my window, which opens on the marble steps into the italian garden. i had put out my light before drawing back the curtain, for i wanted to have a look at the scene before turning in. aunt janet has always had an old-fashioned idea of the need (or propriety, i hardly know which) of keeping windows closed and curtains drawn. i am gradually getting her to leave my room alone in this respect, but at present the change is in its fitful stage, and of course i must not hurry matters or be too persistent, as it would hurt her feelings. this night was one of those under the old regime. it was a delight to look out, for the scene was perfect of its own kind. the long spell of rain--the ceaseless downpour which had for the time flooded everywhere--had passed, and water in abnormal places rather trickled than ran. we were now beginning to be in the sloppy rather than the deluged stage. there was plenty of light to see by, for the moon had begun to show out fitfully through the masses of flying clouds. the uncertain light made weird shadows with the shrubs and statues in the garden. the long straight walk which leads from the marble steps is strewn with fine sand white from the quartz strand in the nook to the south of the castle. tall shrubs of white holly, yew, juniper, cypress, and variegated maple and spiraea, which stood at intervals along the walk and its branches, appeared ghost-like in the fitful moonlight. the many vases and statues and urns, always like phantoms in a half-light, were more than ever weird. last night the moonlight was unusually effective, and showed not only the gardens down to the defending wall, but the deep gloom of the great forest-trees beyond; and beyond that, again, to where the mountain chain began, the forest running up their silvered slopes flamelike in form, deviated here and there by great crags and the outcropping rocky sinews of the vast mountains. whilst i was looking at this lovely prospect, i thought i saw something white flit, like a modified white flash, at odd moments from one to another of the shrubs or statues--anything which would afford cover from observation. at first i was not sure whether i really saw anything or did not. this was in itself a little disturbing to me, for i have been so long trained to minute observation of facts surrounding me, on which often depend not only my own life, but the lives of others, that i have become accustomed to trust my eyes; and anything creating the faintest doubt in this respect is a cause of more or less anxiety to me. now, however, that my attention was called to myself, i looked more keenly, and in a very short time was satisfied that something was moving--something clad in white. it was natural enough that my thoughts should tend towards something uncanny--the belief that this place is haunted, conveyed in a thousand ways of speech and inference. aunt janet's eerie beliefs, fortified by her books on occult subjects--and of late, in our isolation from the rest of the world, the subject of daily conversations--helped to this end. no wonder, then, that, fully awake and with senses all on edge, i waited for some further manifestation from this ghostly visitor--as in my mind i took it to be. it must surely be a ghost or spiritual manifestation of some kind which moved in this silent way. in order to see and hear better, i softly moved back the folding grille, opened the french window, and stepped out, bare-footed and pyjama-clad as i was, on the marble terrace. how cold the wet marble was! how heavy smelled the rain-laden garden! it was as though the night and the damp, and even the moonlight, were drawing the aroma from all the flowers that blossomed. the whole night seemed to exhale heavy, half-intoxicating odours! i stood at the head of the marble steps, and all immediately before me was ghostly in the extreme--the white marble terrace and steps, the white walks of quartz-sand glistening under the fitful moonlight; the shrubs of white or pale green or yellow,--all looking dim and ghostly in the glamorous light; the white statues and vases. and amongst them, still flitting noiselessly, that mysterious elusive figure which i could not say was based on fact or imagination. i held my breath, listening intently for every sound; but sound there was none, save those of the night and its denizens. owls hooted in the forest; bats, taking advantage of the cessation of the rain, flitted about silently, like shadows in the air. but there was no more sign of moving ghost or phantom, or whatever i had seen might have been--if, indeed, there had been anything except imagination. so, after waiting awhile, i returned to my room, closed the window, drew the grille across again, and dragged the heavy curtain before the opening; then, having extinguished my candles, went to bed in the dark. in a few minutes i must have been asleep. "what was that?" i almost heard the words of my own thought as i sat up in bed wide awake. to memory rather than present hearing the disturbing sound had seemed like the faint tapping at the window. for some seconds i listened, mechanically but intently, with bated breath and that quick beating of the heart which in a timorous person speaks for fear, and for expectation in another. in the stillness the sound came again--this time a very, very faint but unmistakable tapping at the glass door. i jumped up, drew back the curtain, and for a moment stood appalled. there, outside on the balcony, in the now brilliant moonlight, stood a woman, wrapped in white grave-clothes saturated with water, which dripped on the marble floor, making a pool which trickled slowly down the wet steps. attitude and dress and circumstance all conveyed the idea that, though she moved and spoke, she was not quick, but dead. she was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death. through the still white of her face, which made her look as cold as the wet marble she stood on, her dark eyes seemed to gleam with a strange but enticing lustre. even in the unsearching moonlight, which is after all rather deceptive than illuminative, i could not but notice one rare quality of her eyes. each had some quality of refraction which made it look as though it contained a star. at every movement she made, the stars exhibited new beauties, of more rare and radiant force. she looked at me imploringly as the heavy curtain rolled back, and in eloquent gestures implored me to admit her. instinctively i obeyed; i rolled back the steel grille, and threw open the french window. i noticed that she shivered and trembled as the glass door fell open. indeed, she seemed so overcome with cold as to seem almost unable to move. in the sense of her helplessness all idea of the strangeness of the situation entirely disappeared. it was not as if my first idea of death taken from her cerements was negatived. it was simply that i did not think of it at all; i was content to accept things as they were--she was a woman, and in some dreadful trouble; that was enough. i am thus particular about my own emotions, as i may have to refer to them again in matters of comprehension or comparison. the whole thing is so vastly strange and abnormal that the least thing may afterwards give some guiding light or clue to something otherwise not understandable. i have always found that in recondite matters first impressions are of more real value than later conclusions. we humans place far too little reliance on instinct as against reason; and yet instinct is the great gift of nature to all animals for their protection and the fulfilment of their functions generally. when i stepped out on the balcony, not thinking of my costume, i found that the woman was benumbed and hardly able to move. even when i asked her to enter, and supplemented my words with gestures in case she should not understand my language, she stood stock-still, only rocking slightly to and fro as though she had just strength enough left to balance herself on her feet. i was afraid, from the condition in which she was, that she might drop down dead at any moment. so i took her by the hand to lead her in. but she seemed too weak to even make the attempt. when i pulled her slightly forward, thinking to help her, she tottered, and would have fallen had i not caught her in my arms. then, half lifting her, i moved her forwards. her feet, relieved of her weight, now seemed able to make the necessary effort; and so, i almost carrying her, we moved into the room. she was at the very end of her strength; i had to lift her over the sill. in obedience to her motion, i closed the french window and bolted it. i supposed the warmth of the room--though cool, it was warmer than the damp air without--affected her quickly, for on the instant she seemed to begin to recover herself. in a few seconds, as though she had reacquired her strength, she herself pulled the heavy curtain across the window. this left us in darkness, through which i heard her say in english: "light. get a light!" i found matches, and at once lit a candle. as the wick flared, she moved over to the door of the room, and tried if the lock and bolt were fastened. satisfied as to this, she moved towards me, her wet shroud leaving a trail of moisture on the green carpet. by this time the wax of the candle had melted sufficiently to let me see her clearly. she was shaking and quivering as though in an ague; she drew the wet shroud around her piteously. instinctively i spoke: "can i do anything for you?" she answered, still in english, and in a voice of thrilling, almost piercing sweetness, which seemed somehow to go straight to my heart, and affected me strangely: "give me warmth." i hurried to the fireplace. it was empty; there was no fire laid. i turned to her, and said: "wait just a few minutes here. i shall call someone, and get help--and fire." her voice seemed to ring with intensity as she answered without a pause: "no, no! rather would i be"--here she hesitated for an instant, but as she caught sight of her cerements went on hurriedly--"as i am. i trust you--not others; and you must not betray my trust." almost instantly she fell into a frightful fit of shivering, drawing again her death-clothes close to her, so piteously that it wrung my heart. i suppose i am a practical man. at any rate, i am accustomed to action. i took from its place beside my bed a thick jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown--it was, of course, of extra length--and held it out to her as i said: "put that on. it is the only warm thing here which would be suitable. stay; you must remove that wet--wet"--i stumbled about for a word that would not be offensive--"that frock--dress--costume--whatever it is." i pointed to where, in the corner of the room, stood a chintz-covered folding-screen which fences in my cold sponge bath, which is laid ready for me overnight, as i am an early riser. she bowed gravely, and taking the dressing-gown in a long, white, finely-shaped hand, bore it behind the screen. there was a slight rustle, and then a hollow "flop" as the wet garment fell on the floor; more rustling and rubbing, and a minute later she emerged wrapped from head to foot in the long jaeger garment, which trailed on the floor behind her, though she was a tall woman. she was still shivering painfully, however. i took a flask of brandy and a glass from a cupboard, and offered her some; but with a motion of her hand she refused it, though she moaned grievously. "oh, i am so cold--so cold!" her teeth were chattering. i was pained at her sad condition, and said despairingly, for i was at my wits' end to know what to do: "tell me anything that i can do to help you, and i will do it. i may not call help; there is no fire--nothing to make it with; you will not take some brandy. what on earth can i do to give you warmth?" her answer certainly surprised me when it came, though it was practical enough--so practical that i should not have dared to say it. she looked me straight in the face for a few seconds before speaking. then, with an air of girlish innocence which disarmed suspicion and convinced me at once of her simple faith, she said in a voice that at once thrilled me and evoked all my pity: "let me rest for a while, and cover me up with rugs. that may give me warmth. i am dying of cold. and i have a deadly fear upon me--a deadly fear. sit by me, and let me hold your hand. you are big and strong, and you look brave. it will reassure me. i am not myself a coward, but to-night fear has got me by the throat. i can hardly breathe. do let me stay till i am warm. if you only knew what i have gone through, and have to go through still, i am sure you would pity me and help me." to say that i was astonished would be a mild description of my feelings. i was not shocked. the life which i have led was not one which makes for prudery. to travel in strange places amongst strange peoples with strange views of their own is to have odd experiences and peculiar adventures now and again; a man without human passions is not the type necessary for an adventurous life, such as i myself have had. but even a man of passions and experiences can, when he respects a woman, be shocked--even prudish--where his own opinion of her is concerned. such must bring to her guarding any generosity which he has, and any self-restraint also. even should she place herself in a doubtful position, her honour calls to his honour. this is a call which may not be--_must_ not be--unanswered. even passion must pause for at least a while at sound of such a trumpet-call. this woman i did respect--much respect. her youth and beauty; her manifest ignorance of evil; her superb disdain of convention, which could only come through hereditary dignity; her terrible fear and suffering--for there must be more in her unhappy condition than meets the eye--would all demand respect, even if one did not hasten to yield it. nevertheless, i thought it necessary to enter a protest against her embarrassing suggestion. i certainly did feel a fool when making it, also a cad. i can truly say it was made only for her good, and out of the best of me, such as i am. i felt impossibly awkward; and stuttered and stumbled before i spoke: "but surely--the convenances! your being here alone at night! mrs. grundy--convention--the--" she interrupted me with an incomparable dignity--a dignity which had the effect of shutting me up like a clasp-knife and making me feel a decided inferior--and a poor show at that. there was such a gracious simplicity and honesty in it, too, such self-respecting knowledge of herself and her position, that i could be neither angry nor hurt. i could only feel ashamed of myself, and of my own littleness of mind and morals. she seemed in her icy coldness--now spiritual as well as bodily--like an incarnate figure of pride as she answered: "what are convenances or conventions to me! if you only knew where i have come from--the existence (if it can be called so) which i have had--the loneliness--the horror! and besides, it is for me to _make_ conventions, not to yield my personal freedom of action to them. even as i am--even here and in this garb--i am above convention. convenances do not trouble me or hamper me. that, at least, i have won by what i have gone through, even if it had never come to me through any other way. let me stay." she said the last words, in spite of all her pride, appealingly. but still, there was a note of high pride in all this--in all she said and did, in her attitude and movement, in the tones of her voice, in the loftiness of her carriage and the steadfast look of her open, starlit eyes. altogether, there was something so rarely lofty in herself and all that clad her that, face to face with it and with her, my feeble attempt at moral precaution seemed puny, ridiculous, and out of place. without a word in the doing, i took from an old chiffonier chest an armful of blankets, several of which i threw over her as she lay, for in the meantime, having replaced the coverlet, she had lain down at length on the bed. i took a chair, and sat down beside her. when she stretched out her hand from beneath the pile of wraps, i took it in mine, saying: "get warm and rest. sleep if you can. you need not fear; i shall guard you with my life." she looked at me gratefully, her starry eyes taking a new light more full of illumination than was afforded by the wax candle, which was shaded from her by my body . . . she was horribly cold, and her teeth chattered so violently that i feared lest she should have incurred some dangerous evil from her wetting and the cold that followed it. i felt, however, so awkward that i could find no words to express my fears; moreover, i hardly dared say anything at all regarding herself after the haughty way in which she had received my well-meant protest. manifestly i was but to her as a sort of refuge and provider of heat, altogether impersonal, and not to be regarded in any degree as an individual. in these humiliating circumstances what could i do but sit quiet--and wait developments? little by little the fierce chattering of her teeth began to abate as the warmth of her surroundings stole through her. i also felt, even in this strangely awakening position, the influence of the quiet; and sleep began to steal over me. several times i tried to fend it off, but, as i could not make any overt movement without alarming my strange and beautiful companion, i had to yield myself to drowsiness. i was still in such an overwhelming stupor of surprise that i could not even think freely. there was nothing for me but to control myself and wait. before i could well fix my thoughts i was asleep. i was recalled to consciousness by hearing, even through the pall of sleep that bound me, the crowing of a cock in some of the out-offices of the castle. at the same instant the figure, lying deathly still but for the gentle heaving of her bosom, began to struggle wildly. the sound had won through the gates of her sleep also. with a swift, gliding motion she slipped from the bed to the floor, saying in a fierce whisper as she pulled herself up to her full height: "let me out! i must go! i must go!" by this time i was fully awake, and the whole position of things came to me in an instant which i shall never--can never--forget: the dim light of the candle, now nearly burned down to the socket, all the dimmer from the fact that the first grey gleam of morning was stealing in round the edges of the heavy curtain; the tall, slim figure in the brown dressing-gown whose over-length trailed on the floor, the black hair showing glossy in the light, and increasing by contrast the marble whiteness of the face, in which the black eyes sent through their stars fiery gleams. she appeared quite in a frenzy of haste; her eagerness was simply irresistible. i was so stupefied with amazement, as well as with sleep, that i did not attempt to stop her, but began instinctively to help her by furthering her wishes. as she ran behind the screen, and, as far as sound could inform me,--began frantically to disrobe herself of the warm dressing-gown and to don again the ice-cold wet shroud, i pulled back the curtain from the window, and drew the bolt of the glass door. as i did so she was already behind me, shivering. as i threw open the door she glided out with a swift silent movement, but trembling in an agonized way. as she passed me, she murmured in a low voice, which was almost lost in the chattering of her teeth: "oh, thank you--thank you a thousand times! but i must go. i _must_! i _must_! i shall come again, and try to show my gratitude. do not condemn me as ungrateful--till then." and she was gone. i watched her pass the length of the white path, flitting from shrub to shrub or statue as she had come. in the cold grey light of the undeveloped dawn she seemed even more ghostly than she had done in the black shadow of the night. when she disappeared from sight in the shadow of the wood, i stood on the terrace for a long time watching, in case i should be afforded another glimpse of her, for there was now no doubt in my mind that she had for me some strange attraction. i felt even then that the look in those glorious starry eyes would be with me always so long as i might live. there was some fascination which went deeper than my eyes or my flesh or my heart--down deep into the very depths of my soul. my mind was all in a whirl, so that i could hardly think coherently. it all was like a dream; the reality seemed far away. it was not possible to doubt that the phantom figure which had been so close to me during the dark hours of the night was actual flesh and blood. yet she was so cold, so cold! altogether i could not fix my mind to either proposition: that it was a living woman who had held my hand, or a dead body reanimated for the time or the occasion in some strange manner. the difficulty was too great for me to make up my mind upon it, even had i wanted to. but, in any case, i did not want to. this would, no doubt, come in time. but till then i wished to dream on, as anyone does in a dream which can still be blissful though there be pauses of pain, or ghastliness, or doubt, or terror. so i closed the window and drew the curtain again, feeling for the first time the cold in which i had stood on the wet marble floor of the terrace when my bare feet began to get warm on the soft carpet. to get rid of the chill feeling i got into the bed on which _she_ had lain, and as the warmth restored me tried to think coherently. for a short while i was going over the facts of the night--or what seemed as facts to my remembrance. but as i continued to think, the possibilities of any result seemed to get less, and i found myself vainly trying to reconcile with the logic of life the grim episode of the night. the effort proved to be too much for such concentration as was left to me; moreover, interrupted sleep was clamant, and would not be denied. what i dreamt of--if i dreamt at all--i know not. i only know that i was ready for waking when the time came. it came with a violent knocking at my door. i sprang from bed, fully awake in a second, drew the bolt, and slipped back to bed. with a hurried "may i come in?" aunt janet entered. she seemed relieved when she saw me, and gave without my asking an explanation of her perturbation: "oh, laddie, i hae been so uneasy aboot ye all the nicht. i hae had dreams an' veesions an' a' sorts o' uncanny fancies. i fear that--" she was by now drawing back the curtain, and as her eyes took in the marks of wet all over the floor the current of her thoughts changed: "why, laddie, whativer hae ye been doin' wi' yer baith? oh, the mess ye hae made! 'tis sinful to gie sic trouble an' waste . . . " and so she went on. i was glad to hear the tirade, which was only what a good housewife, outraged in her sentiments of order, would have made. i listened in patience--with pleasure when i thought of what she would have thought (and said) had she known the real facts. i was well pleased to have got off so easily. rupert's journal--_continued_. _april_ , . for some days after what i call "the episode" i was in a strange condition of mind. i did not take anyone--not even aunt janet--into confidence. even she dear, and open-hearted and liberal-minded as she is, might not have understood well enough to be just and tolerant; and i did not care to hear any adverse comment on my strange visitor. somehow i could not bear the thought of anyone finding fault with her or in her, though, strangely enough, i was eternally defending her to myself; for, despite my wishes, embarrassing thoughts _would_ come again and again, and again in all sorts and variants of queries difficult to answer. i found myself defending her, sometimes as a woman hard pressed by spiritual fear and physical suffering, sometimes as not being amenable to laws that govern the living. indeed, i could not make up my mind whether i looked on her as a living human being or as one with some strange existence in another world, and having only a chance foothold in our own. in such doubt imagination began to work, and thoughts of evil, of danger, of doubt, even of fear, began to crowd on me with such persistence and in such varied forms that i found my instinct of reticence growing into a settled purpose. the value of this instinctive precaution was promptly shown by aunt janet's state of mind, with consequent revelation of it. she became full of gloomy prognostications and what i thought were morbid fears. for the first time in my life i discovered that aunt janet had nerves! i had long had a secret belief that she was gifted, to some degree at any rate, with second sight, which quality, or whatever it is, skilled in the powers if not the lore of superstition, manages to keep at stretch not only the mind of its immediate pathic, but of others relevant to it. perhaps this natural quality had received a fresh impetus from the arrival of some cases of her books sent on by sir colin. she appeared to read and reread these works, which were chiefly on occult subjects, day and night, except when she was imparting to me choice excerpts of the most baleful and fearsome kind. indeed, before a week was over i found myself to be an expert in the history of the cult, as well as in its manifestations, which latter i had been versed in for a good many years. the result of all this was that it set me brooding. such, at least, i gathered was the fact when aunt janet took me to task for it. she always speaks out according to her convictions, so that her thinking i brooded was to me a proof that i did; and after a personal examination i came--reluctantly--to the conclusion that she was right, so far, at any rate, as my outer conduct was concerned. the state of mind i was in, however, kept me from making any acknowledgment of it--the real cause of my keeping so much to myself and of being so _distrait_. and so i went on, torturing myself as before with introspective questioning; and she, with her mind set on my actions, and endeavouring to find a cause for them, continued and expounded her beliefs and fears. her nightly chats with me when we were alone after dinner--for i had come to avoid her questioning at other times--kept my imagination at high pressure. despite myself, i could not but find new cause for concern in the perennial founts of her superstition. i had thought, years ago, that i had then sounded the depths of this branch of psychicism; but this new phase of thought, founded on the really deep hold which the existence of my beautiful visitor and her sad and dreadful circumstances had taken upon me, brought me a new concern in the matter of self-importance. i came to think that i must reconstruct my self-values, and begin a fresh understanding of ethical beliefs. do what i would, my mind would keep turning on the uncanny subjects brought before it. i began to apply them one by one to my own late experience, and unconsciously to try to fit them in turn to the present case. the effect of this brooding was that i was, despite my own will, struck by the similarity of circumstances bearing on my visitor, and the conditions apportioned by tradition and superstition to such strange survivals from earlier ages as these partial existences which are rather undead than living--still walking the earth, though claimed by the world of the dead. amongst them are the vampire, or the wehr-wolf. to this class also might belong in a measure the doppelganger--one of whose dual existences commonly belongs to the actual world around it. so, too, the denizens of the world of astralism. in any of these named worlds there is a material presence--which must be created, if only for a single or periodic purpose. it matters not whether a material presence already created can be receptive of a disembodied soul, or a soul unattached can have a body built up for it or around it; or, again, whether the body of a dead person can be made seeming quick through some diabolic influence manifested in the present, or an inheritance or result of some baleful use of malefic power in the past. the result is the same in each case, though the ways be widely different: a soul and a body which are not in unity but brought together for strange purposes through stranger means and by powers still more strange. through much thought and a process of exclusions the eerie form which seemed to be most in correspondence with my adventure, and most suitable to my fascinating visitor, appeared to be the vampire. doppelganger, astral creations, and all such-like, did not comply with the conditions of my night experience. the wehr-wolf is but a variant of the vampire, and so needed not to be classed or examined at all. then it was that, thus focussed, the lady of the shroud (for so i came to hold her in my mind) began to assume a new force. aunt janet's library afforded me clues which i followed with avidity. in my secret heart i hated the quest, and did not wish to go on with it. but in this i was not my own master. do what i would--brush away doubts never so often, new doubts and imaginings came in their stead. the circumstance almost repeated the parable of the seven devils who took the place of the exorcised one. doubts i could stand. imaginings i could stand. but doubts and imaginings together made a force so fell that i was driven to accept any reading of the mystery which might presumably afford a foothold for satisfying thought. and so i came to accept tentatively the vampire theory--accept it, at least, so far as to examine it as judicially as was given me to do. as the days wore on, so the conviction grew. the more i read on the subject, the more directly the evidences pointed towards this view. the more i thought, the more obstinate became the conviction. i ransacked aunt janet's volumes again and again to find anything to the contrary; but in vain. again, no matter how obstinate were my convictions at any given time, unsettlement came with fresh thinking over the argument, so that i was kept in a harassing state of uncertainty. briefly, the evidence in favour of accord between the facts of the case and the vampire theory were: her coming was at night--the time the vampire is according to the theory, free to move at will. she wore her shroud--a necessity of coming fresh from grave or tomb; for there is nothing occult about clothing which is not subject to astral or other influences. she had to be helped into my room--in strict accordance with what one sceptical critic of occultism has called "the vampire etiquette." she made violent haste in getting away at cock-crow. she seemed preternaturally cold; her sleep was almost abnormal in intensity, and yet the sound of the cock-crowing came through it. these things showed her to be subject to _some_ laws, though not in exact accord within those which govern human beings. under the stress of such circumstances as she must have gone through, her vitality seemed more than human--the quality of vitality which could outlive ordinary burial. again, such purpose as she had shown in donning, under stress of some compelling direction, her ice-cold wet shroud, and, wrapt in it, going out again into the night, was hardly normal for a woman. but if so, and if she was indeed a vampire, might not whatever it may be that holds such beings in thrall be by some means or other exorcised? to find the means must be my next task. i am actually pining to see her again. never before have i been stirred to my depths by anyone. come it from heaven or hell, from the earth or the grave, it does not matter; i shall make it my task to win her back to life and peace. if she be indeed a vampire, the task may be hard and long; if she be not so, and if it be merely that circumstances have so gathered round her as to produce that impression, the task may be simpler and the result more sweet. no, not more sweet; for what can be more sweet than to restore the lost or seemingly lost soul of the woman you love! there, the truth is out at last! i suppose that i have fallen in love with her. if so, it is too late for me to fight against it. i can only wait with what patience i can till i see her again. but to that end i can do nothing. i know absolutely nothing about her--not even her name. patience! rupert's journal--_continued_. _april_ , . the only relief i have had from the haunting anxiety regarding the lady of the shroud has been in the troubled state of my adopted country. there has evidently been something up which i have not been allowed to know. the mountaineers are troubled and restless; are wandering about, singly and in parties, and holding meetings in strange places. this is what i gather used to be in old days when intrigues were on foot with turks, greeks, austrians, italians, russians. this concerns me vitally, for my mind has long been made up to share the fortunes of the land of the blue mountains. for good or ill i mean to stay here: _j'y suis_, _j'y reste_. i share henceforth the lot of the blue mountaineers; and not turkey, nor greece, nor austria, nor italy, nor russia--no, not france nor germany either; not man nor god nor devil shall drive me from my purpose. with these patriots i throw in my lot! my only difficulty seemed at first to be with the men themselves. they are so proud that at the beginning i feared they would not even accord me the honour of being one of them! however, things always move on somehow, no matter what difficulties there be at the beginning. never mind! when one looks back at an accomplished fact the beginning is not to be seen--and if it were it would not matter. it is not of any account, anyhow. i heard that there was going to be a great meeting near here yesterday afternoon, and i attended it. i think it was a success. if such is any proof, i felt elated as well as satisfied when i came away. aunt janet's second sight on the subject was comforting, though grim, and in a measure disconcerting. when i was saying good-night she asked me to bend down my head. as i did so, she laid her hands on it and passed them all over it. i heard her say to herself: "strange! there's nothing there; yet i could have sworn i saw it!" i asked her to explain, but she would not. for once she was a little obstinate, and refused point blank to even talk of the subject. she was not worried nor unhappy; so i had no cause for concern. i said nothing, but i shall wait and see. most mysteries become plain or disappear altogether in time. but about the meeting--lest i forget! when i joined the mountaineers who had assembled, i really think they were glad to see me; though some of them seemed adverse, and others did not seem over well satisfied. however, absolute unity is very seldom to be found. indeed, it is almost impossible; and in a free community is not altogether to be desired. when it is apparent, the gathering lacks that sense of individual feeling which makes for the real consensus of opinion--which is the real unity of purpose. the meeting was at first, therefore, a little cold and distant. but presently it began to thaw, and after some fiery harangues i was asked to speak. happily, i had begun to learn the balkan language as soon as ever uncle roger's wishes had been made known to me, and as i have some facility of tongues and a great deal of experience, i soon began to know something of it. indeed, when i had been here a few weeks, with opportunity of speaking daily with the people themselves, and learned to understand the intonations and vocal inflexions, i felt quite easy in speaking it. i understood every word which had up to then been spoken at the meeting, and when i spoke myself i felt that they understood. that is an experience which every speaker has in a certain way and up to a certain point. he knows by some kind of instinct if his hearers are with him; if they respond, they must certainly have understood. last night this was marked. i felt it every instant i was talking and when i came to realize that the men were in strict accord with my general views, i took them into confidence with regard to my own personal purpose. it was the beginning of a mutual trust; so for peroration i told them that i had come to the conclusion that what they wanted most for their own protection and the security and consolidation of their nation was arms--arms of the very latest pattern. here they interrupted me with wild cheers, which so strung me up that i went farther than i intended, and made a daring venture. "ay," i repeated, "the security and consolidation of your country--of _our_ country, for i have come to live amongst you. here is my home whilst i live. i am with you heart and soul. i shall live with you, fight shoulder to shoulder with you, and, if need be, shall die with you!" here the shouting was terrific, and the younger men raised their guns to fire a salute in blue mountain fashion. but on the instant the vladika { } held up his hands and motioned them to desist. in the immediate silence he spoke, sharply at first, but later ascending to a high pitch of single-minded, lofty eloquence. his words rang in my ears long after the meeting was over and other thoughts had come between them and the present. "silence!" he thundered. "make no echoes in the forest or through the hills at this dire time of stress and threatened danger to our land. bethink ye of this meeting, held here and in secret, in order that no whisper of it may be heard afar. have ye all, brave men of the blue mountains, come hither through the forest like shadows that some of you, thoughtless, may enlighten your enemies as to our secret purpose? the thunder of your guns would doubtless sound well in the ears of those who wish us ill and try to work us wrong. fellow-countrymen, know ye not that the turk is awake once more for our harming? the bureau of spies has risen from the torpor which came on it when the purpose against our teuta roused our mountains to such anger that the frontiers blazed with passion, and were swept with fire and sword. moreover, there is a traitor somewhere in the land, or else incautious carelessness has served the same base purpose. something of our needs--our doing, whose secret we have tried to hide, has gone out. the myrmidons of the turk are close on our borders, and it may be that some of them have passed our guards and are amidst us unknown. so it behoves us doubly to be discreet. believe me that i share with you, my brothers, our love for the gallant englishman who has come amongst us to share our sorrows and ambitions--and i trust it may be our joys. we are all united in the wish to do him honour--though not in the way by which danger might be carried on the wings of love. my brothers, our newest brother comes to us from the great nation which amongst the nations has been our only friend, and which has ere now helped us in our direst need--that mighty britain whose hand has ever been raised in the cause of freedom. we of the blue mountains know her best as she stands with sword in hand face to face with our foes. and this, her son and now our brother, brings further to our need the hand of a giant and the heart of a lion. later on, when danger does not ring us round, when silence is no longer our outer guard; we shall bid him welcome in true fashion of our land. but till then he will believe--for he is great-hearted--that our love and thanks and welcome are not to be measured by sound. when the time comes, then shall be sound in his honour--not of rifles alone, but bells and cannon and the mighty voice of a free people shouting as one. but now we must be wise and silent, for the turk is once again at our gates. alas! the cause of his former coming may not be, for she whose beauty and nobility and whose place in our nation and in our hearts tempted him to fraud and violence is not with us to share even our anxiety." here his voice broke, and there arose from all a deep wailing sound, which rose and rose till the woods around us seemed broken by a mighty and long-sustained sob. the orator saw that his purpose was accomplished, and with a short sentence finished his harangue: "but the need of our nation still remains!" then, with an eloquent gesture to me to proceed, he merged in the crowd and disappeared. how could i even attempt to follow such a speaker with any hope of success? i simply told them what i had already done in the way of help, saying: "as you needed arms, i have got them. my agent sends me word through the code between us that he has procured for me--for us--fifty thousand of the newest-pattern rifles, the french ingis-malbron, which has surpassed all others, and sufficient ammunition to last for a year of war. the first section is in hand, and will soon be ready for consignment. there are other war materials, too, which, when they arrive, will enable every man and woman--even the children--of our land to take a part in its defence should such be needed. my brothers, i am with you in all things, for good or ill!" it made me very proud to hear the mighty shout which arose. i had felt exalted before, but now this personal development almost unmanned me. i was glad of the long-sustained applause to recover my self-control. i was quite satisfied that the meeting did not want to hear any other speaker, for they began to melt away without any formal notification having been given. i doubt if there will be another meeting soon again. the weather has begun to break, and we are in for another spell of rain. it is disagreeable, of course; but it has its own charm. it was during a spell of wet weather that the lady of the shroud came to me. perhaps the rain may bring her again. i hope so, with all my soul. rupert's journal--_continued_. _april_ , . the rain has continued for four whole days and nights, and the low-lying ground is like a quagmire in places. in the sunlight the whole mountains glisten with running streams and falling water. i feel a strange kind of elation, but from no visible cause. aunt janet rather queered it by telling me, as she said good-night, to be very careful of myself, as she had seen in a dream last night a figure in a shroud. i fear she was not pleased that i did not take it with all the seriousness that she did. i would not wound her for the world if i could help it, but the idea of a shroud gets too near the bone to be safe, and i had to fend her off at all hazards. so when i doubted if the fates regarded the visionary shroud as of necessity appertaining to me, she said, in a way that was, for her, almost sharp: "take care, laddie. 'tis ill jesting wi' the powers o' time unknown." perhaps it was that her talk put the subject in my mind. the woman needed no such aid; she was always there; but when i locked myself into my room that night, i half expected to find her in the room. i was not sleepy, so i took a book of aunt janet's and began to read. the title was "on the powers and qualities of disembodied spirits." "your grammar," said i to the author, "is hardly attractive, but i may learn something which might apply to her. i shall read your book." before settling down to it, however, i thought i would have a look at the garden. since the night of the visit the garden seemed to have a new attractiveness for me: a night seldom passed without my having a last look at it before turning in. so i drew the great curtain and looked out. the scene was beautiful, but almost entirely desolate. all was ghastly in the raw, hard gleams of moonlight coming fitfully through the masses of flying cloud. the wind was rising, and the air was damp and cold. i looked round the room instinctively, and noticed that the fire was laid ready for lighting, and that there were small-cut logs of wood piled beside the hearth. ever since that night i have had a fire laid ready. i was tempted to light it, but as i never have a fire unless i sleep in the open, i hesitated to begin. i went back to the window, and, opening the catch, stepped out on the terrace. as i looked down the white walk and let my eyes range over the expanse of the garden, where everything glistened as the moonlight caught the wet, i half expected to see some white figure flitting amongst the shrubs and statues. the whole scene of the former visit came back to me so vividly that i could hardly believe that any time had passed since then. it was the same scene, and again late in the evening. life in vissarion was primitive, and early hours prevailed--though not so late as on that night. as i looked i thought i caught a glimpse of something white far away. it was only a ray of moonlight coming through the rugged edge of a cloud. but all the same it set me in a strange state of perturbation. somehow i seemed to lose sight of my own identity. it was as though i was hypnotized by the situation or by memory, or perhaps by some occult force. without thinking of what i was doing, or being conscious of any reason for it, i crossed the room and set light to the fire. then i blew out the candle and came to the window again. i never thought it might be a foolish thing to do--to stand at a window with a light behind me in this country, where every man carries a gun with him always. i was in my evening clothes, too, with my breast well marked by a white shirt. i opened the window and stepped out on the terrace. there i stood for many minutes, thinking. all the time my eyes kept ranging over the garden. once i thought i saw a white figure moving, but it was not followed up, so, becoming conscious that it was again beginning to rain, i stepped back into the room, shut the window, and drew the curtain. then i realized the comforting appearance of the fire, and went over and stood before it. hark! once more there was a gentle tapping at the window. i rushed over to it and drew the curtain. there, out on the rain-beaten terrace, stood the white shrouded figure, more desolate-appearing than ever. ghastly pale she looked, as before, but her eyes had an eager look which was new. i took it that she was attracted by the fire, which was by now well ablaze, and was throwing up jets of flame as the dry logs crackled. the leaping flames threw fitful light across the room, and every gleam threw the white-clad figure into prominence, showing the gleam of the black eyes, and fixing the stars that lay in them. without a word i threw open the window, and, taking the white hand extended to me, drew into the room the lady of the shroud. as she entered and felt the warmth of the blazing fire, a glad look spread over her face. she made a movement as if to run to it. but she drew back an instant after, looking round with instinctive caution. she closed the window and bolted it, touched the lever which spread the grille across the opening, and pulled close the curtain behind it. then she went swiftly to the door and tried if it was locked. satisfied as to this, she came quickly over to the fire, and, kneeling before it, stretched out her numbed hands to the blaze. almost on the instant her wet shroud began to steam. i stood wondering. the precautions of secrecy in the midst of her suffering--for that she did suffer was only too painfully manifest--must have presupposed some danger. then and there my mind was made up that there should no harm assail her that i by any means could fend off. still, the present must be attended to; pneumonia and other ills stalked behind such a chill as must infallibly come on her unless precautions were taken. i took again the dressing-gown which she had worn before and handed it to her, motioning as i did so towards the screen which had made a dressing-room for her on the former occasion. to my surprise she hesitated. i waited. she waited, too, and then laid down the dressing-gown on the edge of the stone fender. so i spoke: "won't you change as you did before? your--your frock can then be dried. do! it will be so much safer for you to be dry clad when you resume your own dress." "how can i whilst you are here?" her words made me stare, so different were they from her acts of the other visit. i simply bowed--speech on such a subject would be at least inadequate--and walked over to the window. passing behind the curtain, i opened the window. before stepping out on to the terrace, i looked into the room and said: "take your own time. there is no hurry. i dare say you will find there all you may want. i shall remain on the terrace until you summon me." with that i went out on the terrace, drawing close the glass door behind me. i stood looking out on the dreary scene for what seemed a very short time, my mind in a whirl. there came a rustle from within, and i saw a dark brown figure steal round the edge of the curtain. a white hand was raised, and beckoned me to come in. i entered, bolting the window behind me. she had passed across the room, and was again kneeling before the fire with her hands outstretched. the shroud was laid in partially opened folds on one side of the hearth, and was steaming heavily. i brought over some cushions and pillows, and made a little pile of them beside her. "sit there," i said, "and rest quietly in the heat." it may have been the effect of the glowing heat, but there was a rich colour in her face as she looked at me with shining eyes. without a word, but with a courteous little bow, she sat down at once. i put a thick rug across her shoulders, and sat down myself on a stool a couple of feet away. for fully five or six minutes we sat in silence. at last, turning her head towards me she said in a sweet, low voice: "i had intended coming earlier on purpose to thank you for your very sweet and gracious courtesy to me, but circumstances were such that i could not leave my--my"--she hesitated before saying--"my abode. i am not free, as you and others are, to do what i will. my existence is sadly cold and stern, and full of horrors that appal. but i _do_ thank you. for myself i am not sorry for the delay, for every hour shows me more clearly how good and understanding and sympathetic you have been to me. i only hope that some day you may realize how kind you have been, and how much i appreciate it." "i am only too glad to be of any service," i said, feebly i felt, as i held out my hand. she did not seem to see it. her eyes were now on the fire, and a warm blush dyed forehead and cheek and neck. the reproof was so gentle that no one could have been offended. it was evident that she was something coy and reticent, and would not allow me to come at present more close to her, even to the touching of her hand. but that her heart was not in the denial was also evident in the glance from her glorious dark starry eyes. these glances--veritable lightning flashes coming through her pronounced reserve--finished entirely any wavering there might be in my own purpose. i was aware now to the full that my heart was quite subjugated. i knew that i was in love--veritably so much in love as to feel that without this woman, be she what she might, by my side my future must be absolutely barren. it was presently apparent that she did not mean to stay as long on this occasion as on the last. when the castle clock struck midnight she suddenly sprang to her feet with a bound, saying: "i must go! there is midnight!" i rose at once, the intensity of her speech having instantly obliterated the sleep which, under the influence of rest and warmth, was creeping upon me. once more she was in a frenzy of haste, so i hurried towards the window, but as i looked back saw her, despite her haste, still standing. i motioned towards the screen, and slipping behind the curtain, opened the window and went out on the terrace. as i was disappearing behind the curtain i saw her with the tail of my eye lifting the shroud, now dry, from the hearth. she was out through the window in an incredibly short time, now clothed once more in that dreadful wrapping. as she sped past me barefooted on the wet, chilly marble which made her shudder, she whispered: "thank you again. you _are_ good to me. you can understand." once again i stood on the terrace, saw her melt like a shadow down the steps, and disappear behind the nearest shrub. thence she flitted away from point to point with exceeding haste. the moonlight had now disappeared behind heavy banks of cloud, so there was little light to see by. i could just distinguish a pale gleam here and there as she wended her secret way. for a long time i stood there alone thinking, as i watched the course she had taken, and wondering where might be her ultimate destination. as she had spoken of her "abode," i knew there was some definitive objective of her flight. it was no use wondering. i was so entirely ignorant of her surroundings that i had not even a starting-place for speculation. so i went in, leaving the window open. it seemed that this being so made one barrier the less between us. i gathered the cushions and rugs from before the fire, which was no longer leaping, but burning with a steady glow, and put them back in their places. aunt janet might come in the morning, as she had done before, and i did not wish to set her thinking. she is much too clever a person to have treading on the heels of a mystery--especially one in which my own affections are engaged. i wonder what she would have said had she seen me kiss the cushion on which my beautiful guest's head had rested? when i was in bed, and in the dark save for the fading glow of the fire, my thoughts became fixed that whether she came from earth or heaven or hell, my lovely visitor was already more to me than aught else in the world. this time she had, on going, said no word of returning. i had been so much taken up with her presence, and so upset by her abrupt departure, that i had omitted to ask her. and so i am driven, as before, to accept the chance of her returning--a chance which i fear i am or may be unable to control. surely enough aunt janet did come in the morning, early. i was still asleep when she knocked at my door. with that purely physical subconsciousness which comes with habit i must have realized the cause of the sound, for i woke fully conscious of the fact that aunt janet had knocked and was waiting to come in. i jumped from bed, and back again when i had unlocked the door. when aunt janet came in she noticed the cold of the room. "save us, laddie, but ye'll get your death o' cold in this room." then, as she looked round and noticed the ashes of the extinct fire in the grate: "eh, but ye're no that daft after a'; ye've had the sense to light yer fire. glad i am that we had the fire laid and a wheen o' dry logs ready to yer hand." she evidently felt the cold air coming from the window, for she went over and drew the curtain. when she saw the open window, she raised her hands in a sort of dismay, which to me, knowing how little base for concern could be within her knowledge, was comic. hurriedly she shut the window, and then, coming close over to my bed, said: "yon has been a fearsome nicht again, laddie, for yer poor auld aunty." "dreaming again, aunt janet?" i asked--rather flippantly as it seemed to me. she shook her head: "not so, rupert, unless it be that the lord gies us in dreams what we in our spiritual darkness think are veesions." i roused up at this. when aunt janet calls me rupert, as she always used to do in my dear mother's time, things are serious with her. as i was back in childhood now, recalled by her word, i thought the best thing i could do to cheer her would be to bring her back there too--if i could. so i patted the edge of the bed as i used to do when i was a wee kiddie and wanted her to comfort me, and said: "sit down, aunt janet, and tell me." she yielded at once, and the look of the happy old days grew over her face as though there had come a gleam of sunshine. she sat down, and i put out my hands as i used to do, and took her hand between them. there was a tear in her eye as she raised my hand and kissed it as in old times. but for the infinite pathos of it, it would have been comic: aunt janet, old and grey-haired, but still retaining her girlish slimness of figure, petite, dainty as a dresden figure, her face lined with the care of years, but softened and ennobled by the unselfishness of those years, holding up my big hand, which would outweigh her whole arm; sitting dainty as a pretty old fairy beside a recumbent giant--for my bulk never seems so great as when i am near this real little good fairy of my life--seven feet beside four feet seven. so she began as of old, as though she were about to soothe a frightened child with a fairy tale: "'twas a veesion, i think, though a dream it may hae been. but whichever or whatever it was, it concerned my little boy, who has grown to be a big giant, so much that i woke all of a tremble. laddie dear, i thought that i saw ye being married." this gave me an opening, though a small one, for comforting her, so i took it at once: "why, dear, there isn't anything to alarm you in that, is there? it was only the other day when you spoke to me about the need of my getting married, if it was only that you might have children of your boy playing around your knees as their father used to do when he was a helpless wee child himself." "that is so, laddie," she answered gravely. "but your weddin' was none so merry as i fain would see. true, you seemed to lo'e her wi' all yer hairt. yer eyes shone that bright that ye might ha' set her afire, for all her black locks and her winsome face. but, laddie, that was not all--no, not though her black een, that had the licht o' all the stars o' nicht in them, shone in yours as though a hairt o' love an' passion, too, dwelt in them. i saw ye join hands, an' heard a strange voice that talked stranger still, but i saw none ither. your eyes an' her eyes, an' your hand an' hers, were all i saw. for all else was dim, and the darkness was close around ye twa. and when the benison was spoken--i knew that by the voices that sang, and by the gladness of her een, as well as by the pride and glory of yours--the licht began to glow a wee more, an' i could see yer bride. she was in a veil o' wondrous fine lace. and there were orange-flowers in her hair, though there were twigs, too, and there was a crown o' flowers on head wi' a golden band round it. and the heathen candles that stood on the table wi' the book had some strange effect, for the reflex o' it hung in the air o'er her head like the shadow of a crown. there was a gold ring on her finger and a silver one on yours." here she paused and trembled, so that, hoping to dispel her fears, i said, as like as i could to the way i used to when i was a child: "go on, aunt janet." she did not seem to recognize consciously the likeness between past and present; but the effect was there, for she went on more like her old self, though there was a prophetic gravity in her voice, more marked than i had ever heard from her: "all this i've told ye was well; but, oh, laddie, there was a dreadful lack o' livin' joy such as i should expect from the woman whom my boy had chosen for his wife--and at the marriage coupling, too! and no wonder, when all is said; for though the marriage veil o' love was fine, an' the garland o' flowers was fresh-gathered, underneath them a' was nane ither than a ghastly shroud. as i looked in my veesion--or maybe dream--i expectit to see the worms crawl round the flagstane at her feet. if 'twas not death, laddie dear, that stood by ye, it was the shadow o' death that made the darkness round ye, that neither the light o' candles nor the smoke o' heathen incense could pierce. oh, laddie, laddie, wae is me that i hae seen sic a veesion--waking or sleeping, it matters not! i was sair distressed--so sair that i woke wi' a shriek on my lips and bathed in cold sweat. i would hae come doon to ye to see if you were hearty or no--or even to listen at your door for any sound o' yer being quick, but that i feared to alarm ye till morn should come. i've counted the hours and the minutes since midnight, when i saw the veesion, till i came hither just the now." "quite right, aunt janet," i said, "and i thank you for your kind thought for me in the matter, now and always." then i went on, for i wanted to take precautions against the possibility of her discovery of my secret. i could not bear to think that she might run my precious secret to earth in any well-meant piece of bungling. that would be to me disaster unbearable. she might frighten away altogether my beautiful visitor, even whose name or origin i did not know, and i might never see her again: "you must never do that, aunt janet. you and i are too good friends to have sense of distrust or annoyance come between us--which would surely happen if i had to keep thinking that you or anyone else might be watching me." rupert's journal--_continued_. _april_ , . after a spell of loneliness which has seemed endless i have something to write. when the void in my heart was becoming the receptacle for many devils of suspicion and distrust i set myself a task which might, i thought, keep my thoughts in part, at any rate, occupied--to explore minutely the neighbourhood round the castle. this might, i hoped, serve as an anodyne to my pain of loneliness, which grew more acute as the days, the hours, wore on, even if it should not ultimately afford me some clue to the whereabouts of the woman whom i had now grown to love so madly. my exploration soon took a systematic form, as i intended that it should be exhaustive. i would take every day a separate line of advance from the castle, beginning at the south and working round by the east to the north. the first day only took me to the edge of the creek, which i crossed in a boat, and landed at the base of the cliff opposite. i found the cliffs alone worth a visit. here and there were openings to caves which i made up my mind to explore later. i managed to climb up the cliff at a spot less beetling than the rest, and continued my journey. it was, though very beautiful, not a specially interesting place. i explored that spoke of the wheel of which vissarion was the hub, and got back just in time for dinner. the next day i took a course slightly more to the eastward. i had no difficulty in keeping a straight path, for, once i had rowed across the creek, the old church of st. sava rose before me in stately gloom. this was the spot where many generations of the noblest of the land of the blue mountains had from time immemorial been laid to rest, amongst them the vissarions. again, i found the opposite cliffs pierced here and there with caves, some with wide openings,--others the openings of which were partly above and partly below water. i could, however, find no means of climbing the cliff at this part, and had to make a long detour, following up the line of the creek till further on i found a piece of beach from which ascent was possible. here i ascended, and found that i was on a line between the castle and the southern side of the mountains. i saw the church of st. sava away to my right, and not far from the edge of the cliff. i made my way to it at once, for as yet i had never been near it. hitherto my excursions had been limited to the castle and its many gardens and surroundings. it was of a style with which i was not familiar--with four wings to the points of the compass. the great doorway, set in a magnificent frontage of carved stone of manifestly ancient date, faced west, so that, when one entered, he went east. to my surprise--for somehow i expected the contrary--i found the door open. not wide open, but what is called ajar--manifestly not locked or barred, but not sufficiently open for one to look in. i entered, and after passing through a wide vestibule, more like a section of a corridor than an ostensible entrance, made my way through a spacious doorway into the body of the church. the church itself was almost circular, the openings of the four naves being spacious enough to give the appearance of the interior as a whole, being a huge cross. it was strangely dim, for the window openings were small and high-set, and were, moreover, filled with green or blue glass, each window having a colour to itself. the glass was very old, being of the thirteenth or fourteenth century. such appointments as there were--for it had a general air of desolation--were of great beauty and richness,--especially so to be in a place--even a church--where the door lay open, and no one was to be seen. it was strangely silent even for an old church on a lonesome headland. there reigned a dismal solemnity which seemed to chill me, accustomed as i have been to strange and weird places. it seemed abandoned, though it had not that air of having been neglected which is so often to be noticed in old churches. there was none of the everlasting accumulation of dust which prevails in places of higher cultivation and larger and more strenuous work. in the church itself or its appending chambers i could find no clue or suggestion which could guide me in any way in my search for the lady of the shroud. monuments there were in profusion--statues, tablets, and all the customary memorials of the dead. the families and dates represented were simply bewildering. often the name of vissarion was given, and the inscription which it held i read through carefully, looking to find some enlightenment of any kind. but all in vain: there was nothing to see in the church itself. so i determined to visit the crypt. i had no lantern or candle with me, so had to go back to the castle to secure one. it was strange, coming in from the sunlight, here overwhelming to one so recently accustomed to northern skies, to note the slender gleam of the lantern which i carried, and which i had lit inside the door. at my first entry to the church my mind had been so much taken up with the strangeness of the place, together with the intensity of wish for some sort of clue, that i had really no opportunity of examining detail. but now detail became necessary, as i had to find the entrance to the crypt. my puny light could not dissipate the semi-cimmerian gloom of the vast edifice; i had to throw the feeble gleam into one after another of the dark corners. at last i found, behind the great screen, a narrow stone staircase which seemed to wind down into the rock. it was not in any way secret, but being in the narrow space behind the great screen, was not visible except when close to it. i knew i was now close to my objective, and began to descend. accustomed though i have been to all sorts of mysteries and dangers, i felt awed and almost overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness and desolation as i descended the ancient winding steps. these were many in number, roughly hewn of old in the solid rock on which the church was built. i met a fresh surprise in finding that the door of the crypt was open. after all, this was different from the church-door being open; for in many places it is a custom to allow all comers at all times to find rest and comfort in the sacred place. but i did expect that at least the final resting-place of the historic dead would be held safe against casual intrusion. even i, on a quest which was very near my heart, paused with an almost overwhelming sense of decorum before passing through that open door. the crypt was a huge place, strangely lofty for a vault. from its formation, however, i soon came to the conclusion that it was originally a natural cavern altered to its present purpose by the hand of man. i could hear somewhere near the sound of running water, but i could not locate it. now and again at irregular intervals there was a prolonged booming, which could only come from a wave breaking in a confined place. the recollection then came to me of the proximity of the church to the top of the beetling cliff, and of the half-sunk cavern entrances which pierced it. with the gleam of my lamp to guide me, i went through and round the whole place. there were many massive tombs, mostly rough-hewn from great slabs or blocks of stone. some of them were marble, and the cutting of all was ancient. so large and heavy were some of them that it was a wonder to me how they could ever have been brought to this place, to which the only entrance was seemingly the narrow, tortuous stairway by which i had come. at last i saw near one end of the crypt a great chain hanging. turning the light upward, i found that it depended from a ring set over a wide opening, evidently made artificially. it must have been through this opening that the great sarcophagi had been lowered. directly underneath the hanging chain, which did not come closer to the ground than some eight or ten feet, was a huge tomb in the shape of a rectangular coffer or sarcophagus. it was open, save for a huge sheet of thick glass which rested above it on two thick balks of dark oak, cut to exceeding smoothness, which lay across it, one at either end. on the far side from where i stood each of these was joined to another oak plank, also cut smooth, which sloped gently to the rocky floor. should it be necessary to open the tomb, the glass could be made to slide along the supports and descend by the sloping planks. naturally curious to know what might be within such a strange receptacle, i raised the lantern, depressing its lens so that the light might fall within. then i started back with a cry, the lantern slipping from my nerveless hand and falling with a ringing sound on the great sheet of thick glass. within, pillowed on soft cushions, and covered with a mantle woven of white natural fleece sprigged with tiny sprays of pine wrought in gold, lay the body of a woman--none other than my beautiful visitor. she was marble white, and her long black eyelashes lay on her white cheeks as though she slept. without a word or a sound, save the sounds made by my hurrying feet on the stone flooring, i fled up the steep steps, and through the dim expanse of the church, out into the bright sunlight. i found that i had mechanically raised the fallen lamp, and had taken it with me in my flight. my feet naturally turned towards home. it was all instinctive. the new horror had--for the time, at any rate--drowned my mind in its mystery, deeper than the deepest depths of thought or imagination. book iv: under the flagstaff rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . for some days after the last adventure i was in truth in a half-dazed condition, unable to think sensibly, hardly coherently. indeed, it was as much as i could do to preserve something of my habitual appearance and manner. however, my first test happily came soon, and when i was once through it i reacquired sufficient self-confidence to go through with my purpose. gradually the original phase of stupefaction passed, and i was able to look the situation in the face. i knew the worst now, at any rate; and when the lowest point has been reached things must begin to mend. still, i was wofully sensitive regarding anything which might affect my lady of the shroud, or even my opinion of her. i even began to dread aunt janet's second-sight visions or dreams. these had a fatal habit of coming so near to fact that they always made for a danger of discovery. i had to realize now that the lady of the shroud might indeed be a vampire--one of that horrid race that survives death and carries on a life-in-death existence eternally and only for evil. indeed, i began to _expect_ that aunt janet would ere long have some prophetic insight to the matter. she had been so wonderfully correct in her prophetic surmises with regard to both the visits to my room that it was hardly possible that she could fail to take cognizance of this last development. but my dread was not justified; at any rate, i had no reason to suspect that by any force or exercise of her occult gift she might cause me concern by the discovery of my secret. only once did i feel that actual danger in that respect was close to me. that was when she came early one morning and rapped at my door. when i called out, "who is that? what is it?" she said in an agitated way: "thank god, laddie, you are all right! go to sleep again." later on, when we met at breakfast, she explained that she had had a nightmare in the grey of the morning. she thought she had seen me in the crypt of a great church close beside a stone coffin; and, knowing that such was an ominous subject to dream about, came as soon as she dared to see if i was all right. her mind was evidently set on death and burial, for she went on: "by the way, rupert, i am told that the great church on time top of the cliff across the creek is st. sava's, where the great people of the country used to be buried. i want you to take me there some day. we shall go over it, and look at the tombs and monuments together. i really think i should be afraid to go alone, but it will be all right if you are with me." this was getting really dangerous, so i turned it aside: "really, aunt janet, i'm afraid it won't do. if you go off to weird old churches, and fill yourself up with a fresh supply of horrors, i don't know what will happen. you'll be dreaming dreadful things about me every night and neither you nor i shall get any sleep." it went to my heart to oppose her in any wish; and also this kind of chaffy opposition might pain her. but i had no alternative; the matter was too serious to be allowed to proceed. should aunt janet go to the church, she would surely want to visit the crypt. should she do so, and there notice the glass-covered tomb--as she could not help doing--the lord only knew what would happen. she had already second-sighted a woman being married to me, and before i myself knew that i had such a hope. what might she not reveal did she know where the woman came from? it may have been that her power of second sight had to rest on some basis of knowledge or belief, and that her vision was but some intuitive perception of my own subjective thought. but whatever it was it should be stopped--at all hazards. this whole episode set me thinking introspectively, and led me gradually but imperatively to self-analysis--not of powers, but of motives. i found myself before long examining myself as to what were my real intentions. i thought at first that this intellectual process was an exercise of pure reason; but soon discarded this as inadequate--even impossible. reason is a cold manifestation; this feeling which swayed and dominated me is none other than passion, which is quick, hot, and insistent. as for myself, the self-analysis could lead to but one result--the expression to myself of the reality and definiteness of an already-formed though unconscious intention. i wished to do the woman good--to serve her in some way--to secure her some benefit by any means, no matter how difficult, which might be within my power. i knew that i loved her--loved her most truly and fervently; there was no need for self-analysis to tell me that. and, moreover, no self-analysis, or any other mental process that i knew of, could help my one doubt: whether she was an ordinary woman (or an extraordinary woman, for the matter of that) in some sore and terrible straits; or else one who lay under some dreadful condition, only partially alive, and not mistress of herself or her acts. whichever her condition might be, there was in my own feeling a superfluity of affection for her. the self-analysis taught me one thing, at any rate--that i had for her, to start with, an infinite pity which had softened towards her my whole being, and had already mastered merely selfish desire. out of it i began to find excuses for her every act. in the doing so i knew now, though perhaps i did not at the time the process was going on, that my view in its true inwardness was of her as a living woman--the woman i loved. in the forming of our ideas there are different methods of work, as though the analogy with material life holds good. in the building of a house, for instance, there are many persons employed; men of different trades and occupations--architect, builder, masons, carpenters, plumbers, and a host of others--and all these with the officials of each guild or trade. so in the world of thought and feelings: knowledge and understanding come through various agents, each competent to its task. how far pity reacted with love i knew not; i only knew that whatever her state might be, were she living or dead, i could find in my heart no blame for the lady of the shroud. it could not be that she was dead in the real conventional way; for, after all, the dead do not walk the earth in corporal substance, even if there be spirits which take the corporal form. this woman was of actual form and weight. how could i doubt that, at all events--i, who had held her in my arms? might it not be that she was not quite dead, and that it had been given to me to restore her to life again? ah! that would be, indeed, a privilege well worth the giving my life to accomplish. that such a thing may be is possible. surely the old myths were not absolute inventions; they must have had a basis somewhere in fact. may not the world-old story of orpheus and eurydice have been based on some deep-lying principle or power of human nature? there is not one of us but has wished at some time to bring back the dead. ay, and who has not felt that in himself or herself was power in the deep love for our dead to make them quick again, did we but know the secret of how it was to be done? for myself, i have seen such mysteries that i am open to conviction regarding things not yet explained. these have been, of course, amongst savages or those old-world people who have brought unchecked traditions and beliefs--ay, and powers too--down the ages from the dim days when the world was young; when forces were elemental, and nature's handiwork was experimental rather than completed. some of these wonders may have been older still than the accepted period of our own period of creation. may we not have to-day other wonders, different only in method, but not more susceptible of belief? obi-ism and fantee-ism have been exercised in my own presence, and their results proved by the evidence of my own eyes and other senses. so, too, have stranger rites, with the same object and the same success, in the far pacific islands. so, too, in india and china, in thibet and in the golden chersonese. on all and each of these occasions there was, on my own part, enough belief to set in motion the powers of understanding; and there were no moral scruples to stand in the way of realization. those whose lives are so spent that they achieve the reputation of not fearing man or god or devil are not deterred in their doing or thwarted from a set purpose by things which might deter others not so equipped for adventure. whatever may be before them--pleasant or painful, bitter or sweet, arduous or facile, enjoyable or terrible, humorous or full of awe and horror--they must accept, taking them in the onward course as a good athlete takes hurdles in his stride. and there must be no hesitating, no looking back. if the explorer or the adventurer has scruples, he had better give up that special branch of effort and come himself to a more level walk in life. neither must there be regrets. there is no need for such; savage life has this advantage: it begets a certain toleration not to be found in conventional existence. rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . i had heard long ago that second sight is a terrible gift, even to its possessor. i am now inclined not only to believe, but to understand it. aunt janet has made such a practice of it of late that i go in constant dread of discovery of my secret. she seems to parallel me all the time, whatever i may do. it is like a sort of dual existence to her; for she is her dear old self all the time, and yet some other person with a sort of intellectual kit of telescope and notebook, which are eternally used on me. i know they are _for_ me, too--for what she considers my good. but all the same it makes an embarrassment. happily second sight cannot speak as clearly as it sees, or, rather, as it understands. for the translation of the vague beliefs which it inculcates is both nebulous and uncertain--a sort of delphic oracle which always says things which no one can make out at the time, but which can be afterwards read in any one of several ways. this is all right, for in my case it is a kind of safety; but, then, aunt janet is a very clever woman, and some time she herself may be able to understand. then she may begin to put two and two together. when she does that, it will not be long before she knows more than i do of the facts of the whole affair. and her reading of them and of the lady of the shroud, round whom they circle, may not be the same as mine. well, that will be all right too. aunt janet loves me--god knows i have good reason to know that all through these years--and whatever view she may take, her acts will be all i could wish. but i shall come in for a good lot of scolding, i am sure. by the way, i ought to think of that; if aunt janet scolds me, it is a pretty good proof that i ought to be scolded. i wonder if i dare tell her all. no! it is too strange. she is only a woman, after all: and if she knew i loved . . . i wish i knew her name, and thought--as i might myself do, only that i resist it--that she is not alive at all. well, what she would either think or do beats me. i suppose she would want to slipper me as she used to do when i was a wee kiddie--in a different way, of course. _may_ , . i really could not go on seriously last night. the idea of aunt janet giving me a licking as in the dear old days made me laugh so much that nothing in the world seemed serious then. oh, aunt janet is all right whatever comes. that i am sure of, so i needn't worry over it. a good thing too; there will be plenty to worry about without that. i shall not check her telling me of her visions, however; i may learn something from them. for the last four-and-twenty hours i have, whilst awake, been looking over aunt janet's books, of which i brought a wheen down here. gee whizz! no wonder the old dear is superstitious, when she is filled up to the back teeth with that sort of stuff! there may be some truth in some of those yarns; those who wrote them may believe in them, or some of them, at all events. but as to coherence or logic, or any sort of reasonable or instructive deduction, they might as well have been written by so many hens! these occult book-makers seem to gather only a lot of bare, bald facts, which they put down in the most uninteresting way possible. they go by quantity only. one story of the kind, well examined and with logical comments, would be more convincing to a third party than a whole hecatomb of them. rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . there is evidently something up in the country. the mountaineers are more uneasy than they have been as yet. there is constant going to and fro amongst them, mostly at night and in the grey of the morning. i spend many hours in my room in the eastern tower, from which i can watch the woods, and gather from signs the passing to and fro. but with all this activity no one has said to me a word on the subject. it is undoubtedly a disappointment to me. i had hoped that the mountaineers had come to trust me; that gathering at which they wanted to fire their guns for me gave me strong hopes. but now it is apparent that they do not trust me in full--as yet, at all events. well, i must not complain. it is all only right and just. as yet i have done nothing to prove to them the love and devotion that i feel to the country. i know that such individuals as i have met trust me, and i believe like me. but the trust of a nation is different. that has to be won and tested; he who would win it must justify, and in a way that only troublous times can allow. no nation will--can--give full meed of honour to a stranger in times of peace. why should it? i must not forget that i am here a stranger in the land, and that to the great mass of people even my name is unknown. perhaps they will know me better when rooke comes back with that store of arms and ammunition that he has bought, and the little warship he has got from south america. when they see that i hand over the whole lot to the nation without a string on them, they may begin to believe. in the meantime all i can do is to wait. it will all come right in time, i have no doubt. and if it doesn't come right, well, we can only die once! is that so? what about my lady of the shroud? i must not think of that or of her in this gallery. love and war are separate, and may not mix--cannot mix, if it comes to that. i must be wise in the matter; and if i have got the hump in any degree whatever, must not show it. but one thing is certain: something is up, and it must be the turks. from what the vladika said at that meeting they have some intention of an attack on the blue mountains. if that be so, we must be ready; and perhaps i can help there. the forces must be organized; we must have some method of communication. in this country, where are neither roads nor railways nor telegraphs, we must establish a signalling system of some sort. _that_ i can begin at once. i can make a code, or adapt one that i have used elsewhere already. i shall rig up a semaphore on the top of the castle which can be seen for an enormous distance around. i shall train a number of men to be facile in signalling. and then, should need come, i may be able to show the mountaineers that i am fit to live in their hearts . . . and all this work may prove an anodyne to pain of another kind. it will help, at any rate, to keep my mind occupied whilst i am waiting for another visit from my lady of the shroud. rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . the two weeks that have passed have been busy, and may, as time goes on, prove eventful. i really think they have placed me in a different position with the blue mountaineers--certainly so far as those in this part of the country are concerned. they are no longer suspicious of me--which is much; though they have not yet received me into their confidence. i suppose this will come in time, but i must not try to hustle them. already they are willing, so far as i can see, to use me to their own ends. they accepted the signalling idea very readily, and are quite willing to drill as much as i like. this can be (and i think is, in its way) a pleasure to them. they are born soldiers, every man of them; and practice together is only a realization of their own wishes and a further development of their powers. i think i can understand the trend of their thoughts, and what ideas of public policy lie behind them. in all that we have attempted together as yet they are themselves in absolute power. it rests with them to carry out any ideas i may suggest, so they do not fear any assumption of power or governance on my part. thus, so long as they keep secret from me both their ideas of high policy and their immediate intentions, i am powerless to do them ill, and i _may_ be of service should occasion arise. well, all told, this is much. already they accept me as an individual, not merely one of the mass. i am pretty sure that they are satisfied of my personal _bona fides_. it is policy and not mistrust that hedges me in. well, policy is a matter of time. they are a splendid people, but if they knew a little more than they do they would understand that the wisest of all policies is trust--when it can be given. i must hold myself in check, and never be betrayed into a harsh thought towards them. poor souls! with a thousand years behind them of turkish aggression, strenuously attempted by both force and fraud, no wonder they are suspicious. likewise every other nation with whom they have ever come in contact--except one, my own--has deceived or betrayed them. anyhow, they are fine soldiers, and before long we shall have an army that cannot be ignored. if i can get so that they trust me, i shall ask sir colin to come out here. he would be a splendid head for their army. his great military knowledge and tactical skill would come in well. it makes me glow to think of what an army he would turn out of this splendid material, and one especially adapted for the style of fighting which would be necessary in this country. if a mere amateur like myself, who has only had experience of organizing the wildest kind of savages, has been able to advance or compact their individual style of fighting into systematic effort, a great soldier like mackelpie will bring them to perfection as a fighting machine. our highlanders, when they come out, will foregather with them, as mountaineers always do with each other. then we shall have a force which can hold its own against any odds. i only hope that rooke will be returning soon. i want to see those ingis-malbron rifles either safely stored in the castle or, what is better, divided up amongst the mountaineers--a thing which will be done at the very earliest moment that i can accomplish it. i have a conviction that when these men have received their arms and ammunition from me they will understand me better, and not keep any secrets from me. all this fortnight when i was not drilling or going about amongst the mountaineers, and teaching them the code which i have now got perfected, i was exploring the side of the mountain nearest to here. i could not bear to be still. it is torture to me to be idle in my present condition of mind regarding my lady of the shroud . . . strange i do not mind mentioning the word to myself now. i used to at first; but that bitterness has all gone away. rupert's journal--continued. _may_ , . i was so restless early this morning that before daylight i was out exploring on the mountain-side. by chance i came across a secret place just as the day was breaking. indeed, it was by the change of light as the first sun-rays seemed to fall down the mountain-side that my attention was called to an opening shown by a light behind it. it was, indeed, a secret place--so secret that i thought at first i should keep it to myself. in such a place as this either to hide in or to be able to prevent anyone else hiding in might on occasion be an asset of safety. when, however, i saw indications rather than traces that someone had already used it to camp in, i changed my mind, and thought that whenever i should get an opportunity i would tell the vladika of it, as he is a man on whose discretion i can rely. if we ever have a war here or any sort of invasion, it is just such places that may be dangerous. even in my own case it is much too near the castle to be neglected. the indications were meagre--only where a fire had been on a little shelf of rock; and it was not possible, through the results of burning vegetation or scorched grass, to tell how long before the fire had been alight. i could only guess. perhaps the mountaineers might be able to tell or even to guess better than i could. but i am not so sure of this. i am a mountaineer myself, and with larger and more varied experience than any of them. for myself, though i could not be certain, i came to the conclusion that whoever had used the place had done so not many days before. it could not have been quite recently; but it may not have been very long ago. whoever had used it had covered up his tracks well. even the ashes had been carefully removed, and the place where they had lain was cleaned or swept in some way, so that there was no trace on the spot. i applied some of my west african experience, and looked on the rough bark of the trees to leeward, to where the agitated air, however directed, must have come, unless it was wanted to call attention to the place by the scattered wood-ashes, however fine. i found traces of it, but they were faint. there had not been rain for several days; so the dust must have been blown there since the rain had fallen, for it was still dry. the place was a tiny gorge, with but one entrance, which was hidden behind a barren spur of rock--just a sort of long fissure, jagged and curving, in the rock, like a fault in the stratification. i could just struggle through it with considerable effort, holding my breath here and there, so as to reduce my depth of chest. within it was tree-clad, and full of possibilities of concealment. as i came away i marked well its direction and approaches, noting any guiding mark which might aid in finding it by day or night. i explored every foot of ground around it--in front, on each side, and above. but from nowhere could i see an indication of its existence. it was a veritable secret chamber wrought by the hand of nature itself. i did not return home till i was familiar with every detail near and around it. this new knowledge added distinctly to my sense of security. later in the day i tried to find the vladika or any mountaineer of importance, for i thought that such a hiding-place which had been used so recently might be dangerous, and especially at a time when, as i had learned at the meeting where they did _not_ fire their guns that there may have been spies about or a traitor in the land. even before i came to my own room to-night i had fully made up my mind to go out early in the morning and find some proper person to whom to impart the information, so that a watch might be kept on the place. it is now getting on for midnight, and when i have had my usual last look at the garden i shall turn in. aunt janet was uneasy all day, and especially so this evening. i think it must have been my absence at the usual breakfast-hour which got on her nerves; and that unsatisfied mental or psychical irritation increased as the day wore on. rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . the clock on the mantelpiece in my room, which chimes on the notes of the clock at st. james's palace, was striking midnight when i opened the glass door on the terrace. i had put out my lights before i drew the curtain, as i wished to see the full effect of the moonlight. now that the rainy season is over, the moon is quite as beautiful as it was in the wet, and a great deal more comfortable. i was in evening dress, with a smoking-jacket in lieu of a coat, and i felt the air mild and mellow on the warm side, as i stood on the terrace. but even in that bright moonlight the further corners of the great garden were full of mysterious shadows. i peered into them as well as i could--and my eyes are pretty good naturally, and are well trained. there was not the least movement. the air was as still as death, the foliage as still as though wrought in stone. i looked for quite a long time in the hope of seeing something of my lady. the quarters chimed several times, but i stood on unheeding. at last i thought i saw far off in the very corner of the old defending wall a flicker of white. it was but momentary, and could hardly have accounted in itself for the way my heart beat. i controlled myself, and stood as though i, too, were a graven image. i was rewarded by seeing presently another gleam of white. and then an unspeakable rapture stole over me as i realized that my lady was coming as she had come before. i would have hurried out to meet her, but that i knew well that this would not be in accord with her wishes. so, thinking to please her, i drew back into the room. i was glad i had done so when, from the dark corner where i stood, i saw her steal up the marble steps and stand timidly looking in at the door. then, after a long pause, came a whisper as faint and sweet as the music of a distant aeolian harp: "are you there? may i come in? answer me! i am lonely and in fear!" for answer i emerged from my dim corner so swiftly that she was startled. i could hear from the quivering intake of her breath that she was striving--happily with success--to suppress a shriek. "come in," i said quietly. "i was waiting for you, for i felt that you would come. i only came in from the terrace when i saw you coming, lest you might fear that anyone might see us. that is not possible, but i thought you wished that i should be careful." "i did--i do," she answered in a low, sweet voice, but very firmly. "but never avoid precaution. there is nothing that may not happen here. there may be eyes where we least expect--or suspect them." as she spoke the last words solemnly and in a low whisper, she was entering the room. i closed the glass door and bolted it, rolled back the steel grille, and pulled the heavy curtain. then, when i had lit a candle, i went over and put a light to the fire. in a few seconds the dry wood had caught, and the flames were beginning to rise and crackle. she had not objected to my closing the window and drawing the curtain; neither did she make any comment on my lighting the fire. she simply acquiesced in it, as though it was now a matter of course. when i made the pile of cushions before it as on the occasion of her last visit, she sank down on them, and held out her white, trembling hands to the warmth. she was different to-night from what she had been on either of the two former visits. from her present bearing i arrived at some gauge of her self-concern, her self-respect. now that she was dry, and not overmastered by wet and cold, a sweet and gracious dignity seemed to shine from her, enwrapping her, as it were, with a luminous veil. it was not that she was by this made or shown as cold or distant, or in any way harsh or forbidding. on the contrary, protected by this dignity, she seemed much more sweet and genial than before. it was as though she felt that she could afford to stoop now that her loftiness was realized--that her position was recognized and secure. if her inherent dignity made an impenetrable nimbus round her, this was against others; she herself was not bound by it, or to be bound. so marked was this, so entirely and sweetly womanly did she appear, that i caught myself wondering in flashes of thought, which came as sharp periods of doubting judgment between spells of unconscious fascination, how i had ever come to think she was aught but perfect woman. as she rested, half sitting and half lying on the pile of cushions, she was all grace, and beauty, and charm, and sweetness--the veritable perfect woman of the dreams of a man, be he young or old. to have such a woman sit by his hearth and hold her holy of holies in his heart might well be a rapture to any man. even an hour of such entrancing joy might be well won by a lifetime of pain, by the balance of a long life sacrificed, by the extinction of life itself. quick behind the record of such thoughts came the answer to the doubt they challenged: if it should turn out that she was not living at all, but one of the doomed and pitiful un-dead, then so much more on account of her very sweetness and beauty would be the winning of her back to life and heaven--even were it that she might find happiness in the heart and in the arms of another man. once, when i leaned over the hearth to put fresh logs on the fire, my face was so close to hers that i felt her breath on my cheek. it thrilled me to feel even the suggestion of that ineffable contact. her breath was sweet--sweet as the breath of a calf, sweet as the whiff of a summer breeze across beds of mignonette. how could anyone believe for a moment that such sweet breath could come from the lips of the dead--the dead _in esse_ or _in posse_--that corruption could send forth fragrance so sweet and pure? it was with satisfied happiness that, as i looked at her from my stool, i saw the dancing of the flames from the beech-logs reflected in her glorious black eyes, and the stars that were hidden in them shine out with new colours and new lustre as they gleamed, rising and falling like hopes and fears. as the light leaped, so did smiles of quiet happiness flit over her beautiful face, the merriment of the joyous flames being reflected in ever-changing dimples. at first i was a little disconcerted whenever my eyes took note of her shroud, and there came a momentary regret that the weather had not been again bad, so that there might have been compulsion for her putting on another garment--anything lacking the loathsomeness of that pitiful wrapping. little by little, however, this feeling disappeared, and i found no matter for even dissatisfaction in her wrapping. indeed, my thoughts found inward voice before the subject was dismissed from my mind: "one becomes accustomed to anything--even a shroud!" but the thought was followed by a submerging wave of pity that she should have had such a dreadful experience. by-and-by we seemed both to forget everything--i know i did--except that we were man and woman, and close together. the strangeness of the situation and the circumstances did not seem of moment--not worth even a passing thought. we still sat apart and said little, if anything. i cannot recall a single word that either of us spoke whilst we sat before the fire, but other language than speech came into play; the eyes told their own story, as eyes can do, and more eloquently than lips whilst exercising their function of speech. question and answer followed each other in this satisfying language, and with an unspeakable rapture i began to realize that my affection was returned. under these circumstances it was unrealizable that there should be any incongruity in the whole affair. i was not myself in the mood of questioning. i was diffident with that diffidence which comes alone from true love, as though it were a necessary emanation from that delightful and overwhelming and commanding passion. in her presence there seemed to surge up within me that which forbade speech. speech under present conditions would have seemed to me unnecessary, imperfect, and even vulgarly overt. she, too, was silent. but now that i am alone, and memory is alone with me, i am convinced that she also had been happy. no, not that exactly. "happiness" is not the word to describe either her feeling or my own. happiness is more active, a more conscious enjoyment. we had been content. that expresses our condition perfectly; and now that i can analyze my own feeling, and understand what the word implies, i am satisfied of its accuracy. "content" has both a positive and negative meaning or antecedent condition. it implies an absence of disturbing conditions as well as of wants; also it implies something positive which has been won or achieved, or which has accrued. in our state of mind--for though it may be presumption on my part, i am satisfied that our ideas were mutual--it meant that we had reached an understanding whence all that might come must be for good. god grant that it may be so! as we sat silent, looking into each other's eyes, and whilst the stars in hers were now full of latent fire, perhaps from the reflection of the flames, she suddenly sprang to her feet, instinctively drawing the horrible shroud round her as she rose to her full height in a voice full of lingering emotion, as of one who is acting under spiritual compulsion rather than personal will, she said in a whisper: "i must go at once. i feel the morning drawing nigh. i must be in my place when the light of day comes." she was so earnest that i felt i must not oppose her wish; so i, too, sprang to my feet and ran towards the window. i pulled the curtain aside sufficiently far for me to press back the grille and reach the glass door, the latch of which i opened. i passed behind the curtain again, and held the edge of it back so that she could go through. for an instant she stopped as she broke the long silence: "you are a true gentleman, and my friend. you understand all i wish. out of the depth of my heart i thank you." she held out her beautiful high-bred hand. i took it in both mine as i fell on my knees, and raised it to my lips. its touch made me quiver. she, too, trembled as she looked down at me with a glance which seemed to search my very soul. the stars in her eyes, now that the firelight was no longer on them, had gone back to their own mysterious silver. then she drew her hand from mine very, very gently, as though it would fain linger; and she passed out behind the curtain with a gentle, sweet, dignified little bow which left me on my knees. when i heard the glass door pulled-to gently behind her, i rose from my knees and hurried without the curtain, just in time to watch her pass down the steps. i wanted to see her as long as i could. the grey of morning was just beginning to war with the night gloom, and by the faint uncertain light i could see dimly the white figure flit between shrub and statue till finally it merged in the far darkness. i stood for a long time on the terrace, sometimes looking into the darkness in front of me, in case i might be blessed with another glimpse of her; sometimes with my eyes closed, so that i might recall and hold in my mind her passage down the steps. for the first time since i had met her she had thrown back at me a glance as she stepped on the white path below the terrace. with the glamour over me of that look, which was all love and enticement, i could have dared all the powers that be. when the grey dawn was becoming apparent through the lightening of the sky i returned to my room. in a dazed condition--half hypnotized by love--i went to bed, and in dreams continued to think, all happily, of my lady of the shroud. rupert's journal--_continued_. _may_ , . a whole week has gone since i saw my love! there it is; no doubt whatever is left in my mind about it now! since i saw her my passion has grown and grown by leaps and bounds, as novelists put it. it has now become so vast as to overwhelm me, to wipe out all thought of doubt or difficulty. i suppose it must be what men suffered--suffering need not mean pain--under enchantments in old times. i am but as a straw whirled in the resistless eddies of a whirlpool. i feel that i _must_ see her again, even if it be but in her tomb in the crypt. i must, i suppose, prepare myself for the venture, for many things have to be thought of. the visit must not be at night, for in such case i might miss her, did she come to me again here . . . the morning came and went, but my wish and intention still remained; and so in the full tide of noon, with the sun in all its fiery force, i set out for the old church of st. sava. i carried with me a lantern with powerful lens. i had wrapped it up secretly, for i had a feeling that i should not like anyone to know that i had such a thing with me. on this occasion i had no misgivings. on the former visit i had for a moment been overwhelmed at the unexpected sight of the body of the woman i thought i loved--i knew it now--lying in her tomb. but now i knew all, and it was to see this woman, though in her tomb, that i came. when i had lit my lantern, which i did as soon as i had pushed open the great door, which was once again unlocked, i turned my steps to the steps of the crypt, which lay behind the richly carven wood screen. this i could see, with the better light, was a noble piece of work of priceless beauty and worth. i tried to keep my heart in full courage with thoughts of my lady, and of the sweetness and dignity of our last meeting; but, despite all, it sank down, down, and turned to water as i passed with uncertain feet down the narrow, tortuous steps. my concern, i am now convinced, was not for myself, but that she whom i adored should have to endure such a fearful place. as anodyne to my own pain i thought what it would be, and how i should feel, when i should have won for her a way out of that horror, at any rate. this thought reassured me somewhat, and restored my courage. it was in something of the same fashion which has hitherto carried me out of tight places as well as into them that at last i pushed open the low, narrow door at the foot of the rock-hewn staircase and entered the crypt. without delay i made my way to the glass-covered tomb set beneath the hanging chain. i could see by the flashing of the light around me that my hand which held the lantern trembled. with a great effort i steadied myself, and raising the lantern, turned its light down into the sarcophagus. once again the fallen lantern rang on the tingling glass, and i stood alone in the darkness, for an instant almost paralyzed with surprised disappointment. the tomb was empty! even the trappings of the dead had been removed. i knew not what happened till i found myself groping my way up the winding stair. here, in comparison with the solid darkness of the crypt, it seemed almost light. the dim expanse of the church sent a few straggling rays down the vaulted steps, and as i could see, be it never so dimly, i felt i was not in absolute darkness. with the light came a sense of power and fresh courage, and i groped my way back into the crypt again. there, by now and again lighting matches, i found my way to the tomb and recovered my lantern. then i took my way slowly--for i wished to prove, if not my own courage, at least such vestiges of self-respect as the venture had left me--through the church, where i extinguished my lantern, and out through the great door into the open sunlight. i seemed to have heard, both in the darkness of the crypt and through the dimness of the church, mysterious sounds as of whispers and suppressed breathing; but the memory of these did not count for much when once i was free. i was only satisfied of my own consciousness and identity when i found myself on the broad rock terrace in front of the church, with the fierce sunlight beating on my upturned face, and, looking downward, saw far below me the rippled blue of the open sea. rupert's journal--_continued_. _june_ , . another week has elapsed--a week full of movement of many kinds and in many ways--but as yet i have had no tale or tidings of my lady of the shroud. i have not had an opportunity of going again in daylight to st. sava's as i should have liked to have done. i felt that i must not go at night. the night is her time of freedom, and it must be kept for her--or else i may miss her, or perhaps never see her again. the days have been full of national movement. the mountaineers have evidently been organizing themselves, for some reason which i cannot quite understand, and which they have hesitated to make known to me. i have taken care not to manifest any curiosity, whatever i may have felt. this would certainly arouse suspicion, and might ultimately cause disaster to my hopes of aiding the nation in their struggle to preserve their freedom. these fierce mountaineers are strangely--almost unduly--suspicious, and the only way to win their confidence is to begin the trusting. a young american attache of the embassy at vienna, who had made a journey through the land of the blue mountains, once put it to me in this form: "keep your head shut, and they'll open theirs. if you don't, they'll open it for you--down to the chine!" it was quite apparent to me that they were completing some fresh arrangements for signalling with a code of their own. this was natural enough, and in no way inconsistent with the measure of friendliness already shown to me. where there are neither telegraphs, railways, nor roads, any effective form of communication must--can only be purely personal. and so, if they wish to keep any secret amongst themselves, they must preserve the secret of their code. i should have dearly liked to learn their new code and their manner of using it, but as i want to be a helpful friend to them--and as this implies not only trust, but the appearance of it--i had to school myself to patience. this attitude so far won their confidence that before we parted at our last meeting, after most solemn vows of faith and secrecy, they took me into the secret. this was, however, only to the extent of teaching me the code and method; they still withheld from me rigidly the fact or political secret, or whatever it was that was the mainspring of their united action. when i got home i wrote down, whilst it was fresh in my memory, all they told me. this script i studied until i had it so thoroughly by heart that i _could_ not forget it. then i burned the paper. however, there is now one gain at least: with my semaphore i can send through the blue mountains from side to side, with expedition, secrecy, and exactness, a message comprehensible to all. rupert's journal--_continued_. _june_ , . last night i had a new experience of my lady of the shroud--in so far as form was concerned, at any rate. i was in bed, and just falling asleep, when i heard a queer kind of scratching at the glass door of the terrace. i listened acutely, my heart beating hard. the sound seemed to come from low down, close to the floor. i jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and, pulling aside the heavy curtains, looked out. the garden looked, as usual, ghostly in the moonlight, but there was not the faintest sign of movement anywhere, and no one was on or near the terrace. i looked eagerly down to where the sound had seemed to come from. there, just inside the glass door, as though it had been pushed under the door, lay a paper closely folded in several laps. i picked it up and opened it. i was all in a tumult, for my heart told me whence it came. inside was written in english, in a large, sprawling hand, such as might be from an english child of seven or eight: "meet me at the flagstaff on the rock!" i knew the place, of course. on the farthermost point of the rock on which the castle stands is set a high flagstaff, whereon in old time the banner of the vissarion family flew. at some far-off time, when the castle had been liable to attack, this point had been strongly fortified. indeed, in the days when the bow was a martial weapon it must have been quite impregnable. a covered gallery, with loopholes for arrows, had been cut in the solid rock, running right round the point, quite surrounding the flagstaff and the great boss of rock on whose centre it was reared. a narrow drawbridge of immense strength had connected--in peaceful times, and still remained--the outer point of rock with an entrance formed in the outer wall, and guarded with flanking towers and a portcullis. its use was manifestly to guard against surprise. from this point only could be seen the line of the rocks all round the point. thus, any secret attack by boats could be made impossible. having hurriedly dressed myself, and taking with me both hunting-knife and revolver, i went out on the terrace, taking the precaution, unusual to me, of drawing the grille behind me and locking it. matters around the castle are in far too disturbed a condition to allow the taking of any foolish chances, either in the way of being unarmed or of leaving the private entrance to the castle open. i found my way through the rocky passage, and climbed by the jacob's ladder fixed on the rock--a device of convenience in time of peace--to the foot of the flagstaff. i was all on fire with expectation, and the time of going seemed exceeding long; so i was additionally disappointed by the contrast when i did not see my lady there when i arrived. however, my heart beat freely again--perhaps more freely than ever--when i saw her crouching in the shadow of the castle wall. from where she was she could not be seen from any point save that alone which i occupied; even from there it was only her white shroud that was conspicuous through the deep gloom of the shadow. the moonlight was so bright that the shadows were almost unnaturally black. i rushed over towards her, and when close was about to say impulsively, "why did you leave your tomb?" when it suddenly struck me that the question would be malapropos and embarrassing in many ways. so, better judgment prevailing, i said instead: "it has been so long since i saw you! it has seemed an eternity to me!" her answer came as quickly as even i could have wished; she spoke impulsively and without thought: "it has been long to me too! oh, so long! so long! i have asked you to come out here because i wanted to see you so much that i could not wait any longer. i have been heart-hungry for a sight of you!" her words, her eager attitude, the ineffable something which conveys the messages of the heart, the longing expression in her eyes as the full moonlight fell on her face, showing the stars as living gold--for in her eagerness she had stepped out towards me from the shadow--all set me on fire. without a thought or a word--for it was nature speaking in the language of love, which is a silent tongue--i stepped towards her and took her in my arms. she yielded with that sweet unconsciousness which is the perfection of love, as if it was in obedience to some command uttered before the beginning of the world. probably without any conscious effort on either side--i know there was none on mine--our mouths met in the first kiss of love. at the time nothing in the meeting struck me as out of the common. but later in the night, when i was alone and in darkness, whenever i thought of it all--its strangeness and its stranger rapture--i could not but be sensible of the bizarre conditions for a love meeting. the place lonely, the time night, the man young and strong, and full of life and hope and ambition; the woman, beautiful and ardent though she was, a woman seemingly dead, clothed in the shroud in which she had been wrapped when lying in her tomb in the crypt of the old church. whilst we were together, anyhow, there was little thought of the kind; no reasoning of any kind on my part. love has its own laws and its own logic. under the flagstaff, where the vissarion banner was wont to flap in the breeze, she was in my arms; her sweet breath was on my face; her heart was beating against my own. what need was there for reason at all? _inter arma silent leges_--the voice of reason is silent in the stress of passion. dead she may be, or un-dead--a vampire with one foot in hell and one on earth. but i love her; and come what may, here or hereafter, she is mine. as my mate, we shall fare along together, whatsoever the end may be, or wheresoever our path may lead. if she is indeed to be won from the nethermost hell, then be mine the task! but to go back to the record. when i had once started speaking to her in words of passion i could not stop. i did not want to--if i could; and she did not appear to wish it either. can there be a woman--alive or dead--who would not want to hear the rapture of her lover expressed to her whilst she is enclosed in his arms? there was no attempt at reticence on my part now; i took it for granted that she knew all that i surmised, and, as she made neither protest nor comment, that she accepted my belief as to her indeterminate existence. sometimes her eyes would be closed, but even then the rapture of her face was almost beyond belief. then, when the beautiful eyes would open and gaze on me, the stars that were in them would shine and scintillate as though they were formed of living fire. she said little, very little; but though the words were few, every syllable was fraught with love, and went straight to the very core of my heart. by-and-by, when our transport had calmed to joy, i asked when i might next see her, and how and where i might find her when i should want to. she did not reply directly, but, holding me close in her arms, whispered in my ear with that breathless softness which is a lover's rapture of speech: "i have come here under terrible difficulties, not only because i love you--and that would be enough--but because, as well as the joy of seeing you, i wanted to warn you." "to warn me! why?" i queried. her reply came with a bashful hesitation, with something of a struggle in it, as of one who for some ulterior reason had to pick her words: "there are difficulties and dangers ahead of you. you are beset with them; and they are all the greater because they are, of grim necessity, hidden from you. you cannot go anywhere, look in any direction, do anything, say anything, but it may be a signal for danger. my dear, it lurks everywhere--in the light as well as in the darkness; in the open as well as in the secret places; from friends as well as foes; when you are least prepared; when you may least expect it. oh, i know it, and what it is to endure; for i share it for you--for your dear sake!" "my darling!" was all i could say, as i drew her again closer to me and kissed her. after a bit she was calmer; seeing this, i came back to the subject that she had--in part, at all events--come to me to speak about: "but if difficulty and danger hedge me in so everlastingly, and if i am to have no indication whatever of its kind or purpose, what can i do? god knows i would willingly guard myself--not on my own account, but for your dear sake. i have now a cause to live and be strong, and to keep all my faculties, since it may mean much to you. if you may not tell me details, may you not indicate to me some line of conduct, of action, that would be most in accord with your wishes--or, rather, with your idea of what would be best?" she looked at me fixedly before speaking--a long, purposeful, loving look which no man born of woman could misunderstand. then she spoke slowly, deliberately, emphatically: "be bold, and fear not. be true to yourself, to me--it is the same thing. these are the best guards you can use. your safety does not rest with me. ah, i wish it did! i wish to god it did!" in my inner heart it thrilled me not merely to hear the expression of her wish, but to hear her use the name of god as she did. i understand now, in the calm of this place and with the sunlight before me, that my belief as to her being all woman--living woman--was not quite dead: but though at the moment my heart did not recognize the doubt, my brain did. and i made up my mind that we should not part this time until she knew that i had seen her, and where; but, despite my own thoughts, my outer ears listened greedily as she went on. "as for me, you may not find _me_, but _i_ shall find _you_, be sure! and now we must say 'good-night,' my dear, my dear! tell me once again that you love me, for it is a sweetness that one does not wish to forego--even one who wears such a garment as this--and rests where i must rest." as she spoke she held up part of her cerements for me to see. what could i do but take her once again in my arms and hold her close, close. god knows it was all in love; but it was passionate love which surged through my every vein as i strained her dear body to mine. but yet this embrace was not selfish; it was not all an expression of my own passion. it was based on pity--the pity which is twin-born with true love. breathless from our kisses, when presently we released each other, she stood in a glorious rapture, like a white spirit in the moonlight, and as her lovely, starlit eyes seemed to devour me, she spoke in a languorous ecstasy: "oh, how you love me! how you love me! it is worth all i have gone through for this, even to wearing this terrible drapery." and again she pointed to her shroud. here was my chance to speak of what i knew, and i took it. "i know, i know. moreover, i know that awful resting-place." i was interrupted, cut short in the midst of my sentence, not by any word, but by the frightened look in her eyes and the fear-mastered way in which she shrank away from me. i suppose in reality she could not be paler than she looked when the colour-absorbing moonlight fell on her; but on the instant all semblance of living seemed to shrink and fall away, and she looked with eyes of dread as if in i some awful way held in thrall. but for the movement of the pitiful glance, she would have seemed of soulless marble, so deadly cold did she look. the moments that dragged themselves out whilst i waited for her to speak seemed endless. at length her words came in an awed whisper, so faint that even in that stilly night i could hardly hear it: "you know--you know my resting-place! how--when was that?" there was nothing to do now but to speak out the truth: "i was in the crypt of st. sava. it was all by accident. i was exploring all around the castle, and i went there in my course. i found the winding stair in the rock behind the screen, and went down. dear, i loved you well before that awful moment, but then, even as the lantern fell tingling on the glass, my love multiplied itself, with pity as a factor." she was silent for a few seconds. when she spoke, there was a new tone in her voice: "but were you not shocked?" "of course i was," i answered on the spur of the moment, and i now think wisely. "shocked is hardly the word. i was horrified beyond anything that words can convey that you--_you_ should have to so endure! i did not like to return, for i feared lest my doing so might set some barrier between us. but in due time i did return on another day." "well?" her voice was like sweet music. "i had another shock that time, worse than before, for you were not there. then indeed it was that i knew to myself how dear you were--how dear you are to me. whilst i live, you--living or dead--shall always be in my heart." she breathed hard. the elation in her eyes made them outshine the moonlight, but she said no word. i went on: "my dear, i had come into the crypt full of courage and hope, though i knew what dreadful sight should sear my eyes once again. but we little know what may be in store for us, no matter what we expect. i went out with a heart like water from that dreadful desolation." "oh, how you love me, dear!" cheered by her words, and even more by her tone, i went on with renewed courage. there was no halting, no faltering in my intention now: "you and i, my dear, were ordained for each other. i cannot help it that you had already suffered before i knew you. it may be that there may be for you still suffering that i may not prevent, endurance that i may not shorten; but what a man can do is yours. not hell itself will stop me, if it be possible that i may win through its torments with you in my arms!" "will nothing stop you, then?" her question was breathed as softly as the strain of an aeolian harp. "nothing!" i said, and i heard my own teeth snap together. there was something speaking within me stronger than i had ever known myself to be. again came a query, trembling, quavering, quivering, as though the issue was of more than life or death: "not this?" she held up a corner of the shroud, and as she saw my face and realized the answer before i spoke, went on: "with all it implies?" "not if it were wrought of the cerecloths of the damned!" there was a long pause. her voice was more resolute when she spoke again. it rang. moreover, there was in it a joyous note, as of one who feels new hope: "but do you know what men say? some of them, that i am dead and buried; others, that i am not only dead and buried, but that i am one of those unhappy beings that may not die the common death of man. who live on a fearful life-in-death, whereby they are harmful to all. those unhappy un-dead whom men call vampires--who live on the blood of the living, and bring eternal damnation as well as death with the poison of their dreadful kisses! "i know what men say sometimes," i answered. "but i know also what my own heart says; and i rather choose to obey its calling than all the voices of the living or the dead. come what may, i am pledged to you. if it be that your old life has to be rewon for you out of the very jaws of death and hell, i shall keep the faith i have pledged, and that here i pledge again!" as i finished speaking i sank on my knees at her feet, and, putting my arms round her, drew her close to me. her tears rained down on my face as she stroked my hair with her soft, strong hand and whispered to me: "this is indeed to be one. what more holy marriage can god give to any of his creatures?" we were both silent for a time. i think i was the first to recover my senses. that i did so was manifest by my asking her: "when may we meet again?"--a thing i had never remembered doing at any of our former partings. she answered with a rising and falling of the voice that was just above a whisper, as soft and cooing as the voice of a pigeon: "that will be soon--as soon as i can manage it, be sure. my dear, my dear!" the last four words of endearment she spoke in a low but prolonged and piercing tone which made me thrill with delight. "give me some token," i said, "that i may have always close to me to ease my aching heart till we meet again, and ever after, for love's sake!" her mind seemed to leap to understanding, and with a purpose all her own. stooping for an instant, she tore off with swift, strong fingers a fragment of her shroud. this, having kissed it, she handed to me, whispering: "it is time that we part. you must leave me now. take this, and keep it for ever. i shall be less unhappy in my terrible loneliness whilst it lasts if i know that this my gift, which for good or ill is a part of me as you know me, is close to you. it may be, my very dear, that some day you may be glad and even proud of this hour, as i am." she kissed me as i took it. "for life or death, i care not which, so long as i am with you!" i said, as i moved off. descending the jacob's ladder, i made my way down the rock-hewn passage. the last thing i saw was the beautiful face of my lady of the shroud as she leaned over the edge of the opening. her eyes were like glowing stars as her looks followed me. that look shall never fade from my memory. after a few agitating moments of thought i half mechanically took my way down to the garden. opening the grille, i entered my lonely room, which looked all the more lonely for the memory of the rapturous moments under the flagstaff. i went to bed as one in a dream. there i lay till sunrise--awake and thinking. book v: a ritual at midnight rupert's journal--_continued_. _june_ , . the time has gone as quickly as work can effect since i saw my lady. as i told the mountaineers, rooke, whom i had sent on the service, had made a contract for fifty thousand ingis-malbron rifles, and as many tons of ammunition as the french experts calculated to be a full supply for a year of warfare. i heard from him by our secret telegraph code that the order had been completed, and that the goods were already on the way. the morning after the meeting at the flagstaff i had word that at night the vessel--one chartered by rooke for the purpose--would arrive at vissarion during the night. we were all expectation. i had always now in the castle a signalling party, the signals being renewed as fast as the men were sufficiently expert to proceed with their practice alone or in groups. we hoped that every fighting-man in the country would in time become an expert signaller. beyond these, again, we have always a few priests. the church of the country is a militant church; its priests are soldiers, its bishops commanders. but they all serve wherever the battle most needs them. naturally they, as men of brains, are quicker at learning than the average mountaineers; with the result that they learnt the code and the signalling almost by instinct. we have now at least one such expert in each community of them, and shortly the priests alone will be able to signal, if need be, for the nation; thus releasing for active service the merely fighting-man. the men at present with me i took into confidence as to the vessel's arrival, and we were all ready for work when the man on the lookout at the flagstaff sent word that a vessel without lights was creeping in towards shore. we all assembled on the rocky edge of the creek, and saw her steal up the creek and gain the shelter of the harbour. when this had been effected, we ran out the boom which protects the opening, and after that the great armoured sliding-gates which uncle roger had himself had made so as to protect the harbour in case of need. we then came within and assisted in warping the steamer to the side of the dock. rooke looked fit, and was full of fire and vigour. his responsibility and the mere thought of warlike action seemed to have renewed his youth. when we had arranged for the unloading of the cases of arms and ammunition, i took rooke into the room which we call my "office," where he gave me an account of his doings. he had not only secured the rifles and the ammunition for them, but he had purchased from one of the small american republics an armoured yacht which had been especially built for war service. he grew quite enthusiastic, even excited, as he told me of her: "she is the last word in naval construction--a torpedo yacht. a small cruiser, with turbines up to date, oil-fuelled, and fully armed with the latest and most perfect weapons and explosives of all kinds. the fastest boat afloat to-day. built by thorneycroft, engined by parsons, armoured by armstrong, armed by crupp. if she ever comes into action, it will be bad for her opponent, for she need not fear to tackle anything less than a _dreadnought_." he also told me that from the same government, whose nation had just established an unlooked-for peace, he had also purchased a whole park of artillery of the very latest patterns, and that for range and accuracy the guns were held to be supreme. these would follow before long, and with them their proper ammunition, with a shipload of the same to follow shortly after. when he had told me all the rest of his news, and handed me the accounts, we went out to the dock to see the debarkation of the war material. knowing that it was arriving, i had sent word in the afternoon to the mountaineers to tell them to come and remove it. they had answered the call, and it really seemed to me that the whole of the land must that night have been in motion. they came as individuals, grouping themselves as they came within the defences of the castle; some had gathered at fixed points on the way. they went secretly and in silence, stealing through the forests like ghosts, each party when it grouped taking the place of that which had gone on one of the routes radiating round vissarion. their coming and going was more than ghostly. it was, indeed, the outward manifestation of an inward spirit--a whole nation dominated by one common purpose. the men in the steamer were nearly all engineers, mostly british, well conducted, and to be depended upon. rooke had picked them separately, and in the doing had used well his great experience of both men and adventurous life. these men were to form part of the armoured yacht's crew when she should come into the mediterranean waters. they and the priests and fighting-men in the castle worked well together, and with a zeal that was beyond praise. the heavy cases seemed almost of their own accord to leave the holds, so fast came the procession of them along the gangways from deck to dock-wall. it was a part of my design that the arms should be placed in centres ready for local distribution. in such a country as this, without railways or even roads, the distribution of war material in any quantity is a great labour, for it has to be done individually, or at least from centres. but of this work the great number of mountaineers who were arriving made little account. as fast as the ship's company, with the assistance of the priests and fighting-men, placed the cases on the quay, the engineers opened them and laid the contents ready for portage. the mountaineers seemed to come in a continuous stream; each in turn shouldered his burden and passed out, the captain of his section giving him as he passed his instruction where to go and in what route. the method had been already prepared in my office ready for such a distribution when the arms should arrive, and descriptions and quantities had been noted by the captains. the whole affair was treated by all as a matter of the utmost secrecy. hardly a word was spoken beyond the necessary directions, and these were given in whispers. all night long the stream of men went and came, and towards dawn the bulk of the imported material was lessened by half. on the following night the remainder was removed, after my own men had stored in the castle the rifles and ammunition reserved for its defence if necessary. it was advisable to keep a reserve supply in case it should ever be required. the following night rooke went away secretly in the chartered vessel. he had to bring back with him the purchased cannon and heavy ammunition, which had been in the meantime stored on one of the greek islands. the second morning, having had secret word that the steamer was on the way, i had given the signal for the assembling of the mountaineers. a little after dark the vessel, showing no light, stole into the creek. the barrier gates were once again closed, and when a sufficient number of men had arrived to handle the guns, we began to unload. the actual deportation was easy enough, for the dock had all necessary appliances quite up to date, including a pair of shears for gun-lifting which could be raised into position in a very short time. the guns were well furnished with tackle of all sorts, and before many hours had passed a little procession of them disappeared into the woods in ghostly silence. a number of men surrounded each, and they moved as well as if properly supplied with horses. in the meantime, and for a week after the arrival of the guns, the drilling went on without pause. the gun-drill was wonderful. in the arduous work necessary for it the great strength and stamina of the mountaineers showed out wonderfully. they did not seem to know fatigue any more than they knew fear. for a week this went on, till a perfect discipline and management was obtained. they did not practise the shooting, for this would have made secrecy impossible. it was reported all along the turkish frontier that the sultan's troops were being massed, and though this was not on a war footing, the movement was more or less dangerous. the reports of our own spies, although vague as to the purpose and extent of the movement, were definite as to something being on foot. and turkey does not do something without a purpose that bodes ill to someone. certainly the sound of cannon, which is a far-reaching sound, would have given them warning of our preparations, and would so have sadly minimized their effectiveness. when the cannon had all been disposed of--except, of course, those destined for defence of the castle or to be stored there--rooke went away with the ship and crew. the ship he was to return to the owners; the men would be shipped on the war-yacht, of whose crew they would form a part. the rest of them had been carefully selected by rooke himself, and were kept in secrecy at cattaro, ready for service the moment required. they were all good men, and quite capable of whatever work they might be set to. so rooke told me, and he ought to know. the experience of his young days as a private made him an expert in such a job. rupert's journal--_continued_. _june_ , . last night i got from my lady a similar message to the last, and delivered in a similar way. this time, however, our meeting was to be on the leads of the keep. i dressed myself very carefully before going on this adventure, lest by any chance of household concern, any of the servants should see me; for if this should happen, aunt janet would be sure to hear of it, which would give rise to endless surmises and questionings--a thing i was far from desiring. i confess that in thinking the matter over during the time i was making my hurried preparations i was at a loss to understand how any human body, even though it be of the dead, could go or be conveyed to such a place without some sort of assistance, or, at least, collusion, on the part of some of the inmates. at the visit to the flagstaff circumstances were different. this spot was actually outside the castle, and in order to reach it i myself had to leave the castle privately, and from the garden ascend to the ramparts. but here was no such possibility. the keep was an _imperium in imperio_. it stood within the castle, though separated from it, and it had its own defences against intrusion. the roof of it was, so far as i knew, as little approachable as the magazine. the difficulty did not, however, trouble me beyond a mere passing thought. in the joy of the coming meeting and the longing rapture at the mere thought of it, all difficulties disappeared. love makes its own faith, and i never doubted that my lady would be waiting for me at the place designated. when i had passed through the little arched passages, and up the doubly-grated stairways contrived in the massiveness of the walls, i let myself out on the leads. it was well that as yet the times were sufficiently peaceful not to necessitate guards or sentries at all such points. there, in a dim corner where the moonlight and the passing clouds threw deep shadows, i saw her, clothed as ever in her shroud. why, i know not. i felt somehow that the situation was even more serious than ever. but i was steeled to whatever might come. my mind had been already made up. to carry out my resolve to win the woman i loved i was ready to face death. but now, after we had for a few brief moments held each other in our arms, i was willing to accept death--or more than death. now, more than before, was she sweet and dear to me. whatever qualms there might have been at the beginning of our love-making, or during the progress of it, did not now exist. we had exchanged vows and confidences, and acknowledged our loves. what, then, could there be of distrust, or even doubt, that the present might not set at naught? but even had there been such doubts or qualms, they must have disappeared in the ardour of our mutual embrace. i was by now mad for her, and was content to be so mad. when she had breath to speak after the strictness of our embrace, she said: "i have come to warn you to be more than ever careful." it was, i confess, a pang to me, who thought only of love, to hear that anything else should have been the initiative power of her coming, even though it had been her concern for my own safety. i could not but notice the bitter note of chagrin in my voice as i answered: "it was for love's sake that _i_ came." she, too, evidently felt the undercurrent of pain, for she said quickly: "ah, dearest, i, too, came for love's sake. it is because i love you that i am so anxious about you. what would the world--ay, or heaven--be to me without you?" there was such earnest truth in her tone that the sense and realization of my own harshness smote me. in the presence of such love as this even a lover's selfishness must become abashed. i could not express myself in words, so simply raised her slim hand in mine and kissed it. as it lay warm in my own i could not but notice, as well as its fineness, its strength and the firmness of its clasp. its warmth and fervour struck into my heart--and my brain. thereupon i poured out to her once more my love for her, she listening all afire. when passion had had its say, the calmer emotions had opportunity of expression. when i was satisfied afresh of her affection, i began to value her care for my safety, and so i went back to the subject. her very insistence, based on personal affection, gave me more solid ground for fear. in the moment of love transports i had forgotten, or did not think, of what wonderful power or knowledge she must have to be able to move in such strange ways as she did. why, at this very moment she was within my own gates. locks and bars, even the very seal of death itself, seemed unable to make for her a prison-house. with such freedom of action and movement, going when she would into secret places, what might she not know that was known to others? how could anyone keep secret from such an one even an ill intent? such thoughts, such surmises, had often flashed through my mind in moments of excitement rather than of reflection, but never long enough to become fixed into belief. but yet the consequences, the convictions, of them were with me, though unconsciously, though the thoughts themselves were perhaps forgotten or withered before development. "and you?" i asked her earnestly. "what about danger to you?" she smiled, her little pearl-white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, as she spoke: "there is no danger for me. i am safe. i am the safest person, perhaps the only safe person, in all this land." the full significance of her words did not seem to come to me all at once. some base for understanding such an assertion seemed to be wanting. it was not that i did not trust or believe her, but that i thought she might be mistaken. i wanted to reassure myself, so in my distress i asked unthinkingly: "how the safest? what is your protection?" for several moments that spun themselves out endlessly she looked me straight in the face, the stars in her eyes seeming to glow like fire; then, lowering her head, she took a fold of her shroud and held it up to me. "this!" the meaning was complete and understandable now. i could not speak at once for the wave of emotion which choked me. i dropped on my knees, and taking her in my arms, held her close to me. she saw that i was moved, and tenderly stroked my hair, and with delicate touch pressed down my head on her bosom, as a mother might have done to comfort a frightened child. presently we got back to the realities of life again. i murmured: "your safety, your life, your happiness are all-in-all to me. when will you let them be my care?" she trembled in my arms, nestling even closer to me. her own arms seemed to quiver with delight as she said: "would you indeed like me to be always with you? to me it would be a happiness unspeakable; and to you, what would it be?" i thought that she wished to hear me speak my love to her, and that, woman-like, she had led me to the utterance, and so i spoke again of the passion that now raged in me, she listening eagerly as we strained each other tight in our arms. at last there came a pause, a long, long pause, and our hearts beat consciously in unison as we stood together. presently she said in a sweet, low, intense whisper, as soft as the sighing of summer wind: "it shall be as you wish; but oh, my dear, you will have to first go through an ordeal which may try you terribly! do not ask me anything! you must not ask, because i may not answer, and it would be pain to me to deny you anything. marriage with such an one as i am has its own ritual, which may not be foregone. it may . . . " i broke passionately into her speaking: "there is no ritual that i fear, so long as it be that it is for your good, and your lasting happiness. and if the end of it be that i may call you mine, there is no horror in life or death that i shall not gladly face. dear, i ask you nothing. i am content to leave myself in your hands. you shall advise me when the time comes, and i shall be satisfied, content to obey. content! it is but a poor word to express what i long for! i shall shirk nothing which may come to me from this or any other world, so long as it is to make you mine!" once again her murmured happiness was music to my ears: "oh, how you love me! how you love me, dear, dear!" she took me in her arms, and for a few seconds we hung together. suddenly she tore herself apart from me, and stood drawn up to the full height, with a dignity i cannot describe or express. her voice had a new dominance, as with firm utterance and in staccato manner she said: "rupert sent leger, before we go a step further i must say something to you, ask you something, and i charge you, on your most sacred honour and belief, to answer me truly. do you believe me to be one of those unhappy beings who may not die, but have to live in shameful existence between earth and the nether world, and whose hellish mission is to destroy, body and soul, those who love them till they fall to their level? you are a gentleman, and a brave one. i have found you fearless. answer me in sternest truth, no matter what the issue may be!" she stood there in the glamorous moonlight with a commanding dignity which seemed more than human. in that mystic light her white shroud seemed diaphanous, and she appeared like a spirit of power. what was i to say? how could i admit to such a being that i had actually had at moments, if not a belief, a passing doubt? it was a conviction with me that if i spoke wrongly i should lose her for ever. i was in a desperate strait. in such a case there is but one solid ground which one may rest on--the truth. i really felt i was between the devil and the deep sea. there was no avoiding the issue, and so, out of this all-embracing, all-compelling conviction of truth, i spoke. for a fleeting moment i felt that my tone was truculent, and almost hesitated; but as i saw no anger or indignation on my lady's face, but rather an eager approval, i was reassured. a woman, after all, is glad to see a man strong, for all belief in him must be based on that. "i shall speak the truth. remember that i have no wish to hurt your feelings, but as you conjure me by my honour, you must forgive me if i pain. it is true that i had at first--ay, and later, when i came to think matters over after you had gone, when reason came to the aid of impression--a passing belief that you are a vampire. how can i fail to have, even now, though i love you with all my soul, though i have held you in my arms and kissed you on the mouth, a doubt, when all the evidences seem to point to one thing? remember that i have only seen you at night, except that bitter moment when, in the broad noonday of the upper world, i saw you, clad as ever in a shroud, lying seemingly dead in a tomb in the crypt of st. sava's church . . . but let that pass. such belief as i have is all in you. be you woman or vampire, it is all the same to me. it is _you_ whom i love! should it be that you are--you are not woman, which i cannot believe, then it will be my glory to break your fetters, to open your prison, and set you free. to that i consecrate my life." for a few seconds i stood silent, vibrating with the passion which had been awakened in me. she had by now lost the measure of her haughty isolation, and had softened into womanhood again. it was really like a realization of the old theme of pygmalion's statue. it was with rather a pleading than a commanding voice that she said: "and shall you always be true to me?" "always--so help me, god!" i answered, and i felt that there could be no lack of conviction in my voice. indeed, there was no cause for such lack. she also stood for a little while stone-still, and i was beginning to expand to the rapture which was in store for me when she should take me again in her arms. but there was no such moment of softness. all at once she started as if she had suddenly wakened from a dream, and on the spur of the moment said: "now go, go!" i felt the conviction of necessity to obey, and turned at once. as i moved towards the door by which i had entered, i asked: "when shall i see you again?" "soon!" came her answer. "i shall let you know soon--when and where. oh, go, go!" she almost pushed me from her. when i had passed through the low doorway and locked and barred it behind me, i felt a pang that i should have had to shut her out like that; but i feared lest there should arise some embarrassing suspicion if the door should be found open. later came the comforting thought that, as she had got to the roof though the door had been shut, she would be able to get away by the same means. she had evidently knowledge of some secret way into the castle. the alternative was that she must have some supernatural quality or faculty which gave her strange powers. i did not wish to pursue that train of thought, and so, after an effort, shut it out from my mind. when i got back to my room i locked the door behind me, and went to sleep in the dark. i did not want light just then--could not bear it. this morning i woke, a little later than usual, with a kind of apprehension which i could not at once understand. presently, however, when my faculties became fully awake and in working order, i realized that i feared, half expected, that aunt janet would come to me in a worse state of alarm than ever apropos of some new second-sight experience of more than usual ferocity. but, strange to say, i had no such visit. later on in the morning, when, after breakfast, we walked together through the garden, i asked her how she had slept, and if she had dreamt. she answered me that she had slept without waking, and if she had had any dreams, they must have been pleasant ones, for she did not remember them. "and you know, rupert," she added, "that if there be anything bad or fearsome or warning in dreams, i always remember them." later still, when i was by myself on the cliff beyond the creek, i could not help commenting on the absence of her power of second sight on the occasion. surely, if ever there was a time when she might have had cause of apprehension, it might well have been when i asked the lady whom she did not know to marry me--the lady of whose identity i knew nothing, even whose name i did not know--whom i loved with all my heart and soul--my lady of the shroud. i have lost faith in second sight. rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , . another week gone. i have waited patiently, and i am at last rewarded by another letter. i was preparing for bed a little while ago, when i heard the same mysterious sound at the door as on the last two occasions. i hurried to the glass door, and there found another close-folded letter. but i could see no sign of my lady, or of any other living being. the letter, which was without direction, ran as follows: "if you are still of the same mind, and feel no misgivings, meet me at the church of st. sava beyond the creek to-morrow night at a quarter before midnight. if you come, come in secret, and, of course, alone. do not come at all unless you are prepared for a terrible ordeal. but if you love me, and have neither doubts nor fears, come. come!" needless to say, i did not sleep last night. i tried to, but without success. it was no morbid happiness that kept me awake, no doubting, no fear. i was simply overwhelmed with the idea of the coming rapture when i should call my lady my very, very own. in this sea of happy expectation all lesser things were submerged. even sleep, which is an imperative force with me, failed in its usual effectiveness, and i lay still, calm, content. with the coming of the morning, however, restlessness began. i did not know what to do, how to restrain myself, where to look for an anodyne. happily the latter came in the shape of rooke, who turned up shortly after breakfast. he had a satisfactory tale to tell me of the armoured yacht, which had lain off cattaro on the previous night, and to which he had brought his contingent of crew which had waited for her coming. he did not like to take the risk of going into any port with such a vessel, lest he might be detained or otherwise hampered by forms, and had gone out upon the open sea before daylight. there was on board the yacht a tiny torpedo-boat, for which provision was made both for hoisting on deck and housing there. this last would run into the creek at ten o'clock that evening, at which time it would be dark. the yacht would then run to near otranto, to which she would send a boat to get any message i might send. this was to be in a code, which we arranged, and would convey instructions as to what night and approximate hour the yacht would come to the creek. the day was well on before we had made certain arrangements for the future; and not till then did i feel again the pressure of my personal restlessness. rooke, like a wise commander, took rest whilst he could. well he knew that for a couple of days and nights at least there would be little, if any, sleep for him. for myself, the habit of self-control stood to me, and i managed to get through the day somehow without exciting the attention of anyone else. the arrival of the torpedo-boat and the departure of rooke made for me a welcome break in my uneasiness. an hour ago i said good-night to aunt janet, and shut myself up alone here. my watch is on the table before me, so that i may make sure of starting to the moment. i have allowed myself half an hour to reach st. sava. my skiff is waiting, moored at the foot of the cliff on the hither side, where the zigzag comes close to the water. it is now ten minutes past eleven. i shall add the odd five minutes to the time for my journey so as to make safe. i go unarmed and without a light. i shall show no distrust of anyone or anything this night. rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , . when i was outside the church, i looked at my watch in the bright moonlight, and found i had one minute to wait. so i stood in the shadow of the doorway and looked out at the scene before me. not a sign of life was visible around me, either on land or sea. on the broad plateau on which the church stands there was no movement of any kind. the wind, which had been pleasant in the noontide, had fallen completely, and not a leaf was stirring. i could see across the creek and note the hard line where the battlements of the castle cut the sky, and where the keep towered above the line of black rock, which in the shadow of the land made an ebon frame for the picture. when i had seen the same view on former occasions, the line where the rock rose from the sea was a fringe of white foam. but then, in the daylight, the sea was sapphire blue; now it was an expanse of dark blue--so dark as to seem almost black. it had not even the relief of waves or ripples--simply a dark, cold, lifeless expanse, with no gleam of light anywhere, of lighthouse or ship; neither was there any special sound to be heard that one could distinguish--nothing but the distant hum of the myriad voices of the dark mingling in one ceaseless inarticulate sound. it was well i had not time to dwell on it, or i might have reached some spiritually-disturbing melancholy. let me say here that ever since i had received my lady's message concerning this visit to st. sava's i had been all on fire--not, perhaps, at every moment consciously or actually so, but always, as it were, prepared to break out into flame. did i want a simile, i might compare myself to a well-banked furnace, whose present function it is to contain heat rather than to create it; whose crust can at any moment be broken by a force external to itself, and burst into raging, all-compelling heat. no thought of fear really entered my mind. every other emotion there was, coming and going as occasion excited or lulled, but not fear. well i knew in the depths of my heart the purpose which that secret quest was to serve. i knew not only from my lady's words, but from the teachings of my own senses and experiences, that some dreadful ordeal must take place before happiness of any kind could be won. and that ordeal, though method or detail was unknown to me, i was prepared to undertake. this was one of those occasions when a man must undertake, blindfold, ways that may lead to torture or death, or unknown terrors beyond. but, then, a man--if, indeed, he have the heart of a man--can always undertake; he can at least make the first step, though it may turn out that through the weakness of mortality he may be unable to fulfil his own intent, or justify his belief in his own powers. such, i take it, was the intellectual attitude of the brave souls who of old faced the tortures of the inquisition. but though there was no immediate fear, there was a certain doubt. for doubt is one of those mental conditions whose calling we cannot control. the end of the doubting may not be a reality to us, or be accepted as a possibility. these things cannot forego the existence of the doubt. "for even if a man," says victor cousin, "doubt everything else, at least he cannot doubt that he doubts." the doubt had at times been on me that my lady of the shroud was a vampire. much that had happened seemed to point that way, and here, on the very threshold of the unknown, when, through the door which i was pushing open, my eyes met only an expanse of absolute blackness, all doubts which had ever been seemed to surround me in a legion. i have heard that, when a man is drowning, there comes a time when his whole life passes in review during the space of time which cannot be computed as even a part of a second. so it was to me in the moment of my body passing into the church. in that moment came to my mind all that had been, which bore on the knowledge of my lady; and the general tendency was to prove or convince that she was indeed a vampire. much that had happened, or become known to me, seemed to justify the resolving of doubt into belief. even my own reading of the books in aunt janet's little library, and the dear lady's comments on them, mingled with her own uncanny beliefs, left little opening for doubt. my having to help my lady over the threshold of my house on her first entry was in accord with vampire tradition; so, too, her flying at cock-crow from the warmth in which she revelled on that strange first night of our meeting; so, too, her swift departure at midnight on the second. into the same category came the facts of her constant wearing of her shroud, even her pledging herself, and me also, on the fragment torn from it, which she had given to me as a souvenir; her lying still in the glass-covered tomb; her coming alone to the most secret places in a fortified castle where every aperture was secured by unopened locks and bolts; her very movements, though all of grace, as she flitted noiselessly through the gloom of night. all these things, and a thousand others of lesser import, seemed, for the moment, to have consolidated an initial belief. but then came the supreme recollections of how she had lain in my arms; of her kisses on my lips; of the beating of her heart against my own; of her sweet words of belief and faith breathed in my ear in intoxicating whispers; of . . . i paused. no! i could not accept belief as to her being other than a living woman of soul and sense, of flesh and blood, of all the sweet and passionate instincts of true and perfect womanhood. and so, in spite of all--in spite of all beliefs, fixed or transitory, with a mind whirling amid contesting forces and compelling beliefs--i stepped into the church overwhelmed with that most receptive of atmospheres--doubt. in one thing only was i fixed: here at least was no doubt or misgiving whatever. i intended to go through what i had undertaken. moreover, i felt that i was strong enough to carry out my intention, whatever might be of the unknown--however horrible, however terrible. when i had entered the church and closed the heavy door behind me, the sense of darkness and loneliness in all their horror enfolded me round. the great church seemed a living mystery, and served as an almost terrible background to thoughts and remembrances of unutterable gloom. my adventurous life has had its own schooling to endurance and upholding one's courage in trying times; but it has its contra in fulness of memory. i felt my way forward with both hands and feet. every second seemed as if it had brought me at last to a darkness which was actually tangible. all at once, and with no heed of sequence or order, i was conscious of all around me, the knowledge or perception of which--or even speculation on the subject--had never entered my mind. they furnished the darkness with which i was encompassed with all the crowded phases of a dream. i knew that all around me were memorials of the dead--that in the crypt deep-wrought in the rock below my feet lay the dead themselves. some of them, perhaps--one of them i knew--had even passed the grim portals of time unknown, and had, by some mysterious power or agency, come back again to material earth. there was no resting-place for thought when i knew that the very air which i breathed might be full of denizens of the spirit-world. in that impenetrable blackness was a world of imagining whose possibilities of horror were endless. i almost fancied that i could see with mortal eyes down through that rocky floor to where, in the lonely crypt, lay, in her tomb of massive stone and under that bewildering coverlet of glass, the woman whom i love. i could see her beautiful face, her long black lashes, her sweet mouth--which i had kissed--relaxed in the sleep of death. i could note the voluminous shroud--a piece of which as a precious souvenir lay even then so close to my heart--the snowy woollen coverlet wrought over in gold with sprigs of pine, the soft dent in the cushion on which her head must for so long have lain. i could see myself--within my eyes the memory of that first visit--coming once again with glad step to renew that dear sight--dear, though it scorched my eyes and harrowed my heart--and finding the greater sorrow, the greater desolation of the empty tomb! there! i felt that i must think no more of that lest the thought should unnerve me when i should most want all my courage. that way madness lay! the darkness had already sufficient terrors of its own without bringing to it such grim remembrances and imaginings . . . and i had yet to go through some ordeal which, even to her who had passed and repassed the portals of death, was full of fear. it was a merciful relief to me when, in groping my way forwards through the darkness, i struck against some portion of the furnishing of the church. fortunately i was all strung up to tension, else i should never have been able to control instinctively, as i did, the shriek which was rising to my lips. i would have given anything to have been able to light even a match. a single second of light would, i felt, have made me my own man again. but i knew that this would be against the implied condition of my being there at all, and might have had disastrous consequences to her whom i had come to save. it might even frustrate my scheme, and altogether destroy my opportunity. at that moment it was borne upon me more strongly than ever that this was not a mere fight for myself or my own selfish purposes--not merely an adventure or a struggle for only life and death against unknown difficulties and dangers. it was a fight on behalf of her i loved, not merely for her life, but perhaps even for her soul. and yet this very thinking--understanding--created a new form of terror. for in that grim, shrouding darkness came memories of other moments of terrible stress. of wild, mystic rites held in the deep gloom of african forests, when, amid scenes of revolting horror, obi and the devils of his kind seemed to reveal themselves to reckless worshippers, surfeited with horror, whose lives counted for naught; when even human sacrifice was an episode, and the reek of old deviltries and recent carnage tainted the air, till even i, who was, at the risk of my life, a privileged spectator who had come through dangers without end to behold the scene, rose and fled in horror. of scenes of mystery enacted in rock-cut temples beyond the himalayas, whose fanatic priests, cold as death and as remorseless, in the reaction of their phrenzy of passion, foamed at the mouth and then sank into marble quiet, as with inner eyes they beheld the visions of the hellish powers which they had invoked. of wild, fantastic dances of the devil-worshippers of madagascar, where even the very semblance of humanity disappeared in the fantastic excesses of their orgies. of strange doings of gloom and mystery in the rock-perched monasteries of thibet. of awful sacrifices, all to mystic ends, in the innermost recesses of cathay. of weird movements with masses of poisonous snakes by the medicine-men of the zuni and mochi indians in the far south-west of the rockies, beyond the great plains. of secret gatherings in vast temples of old mexico, and by dim altars of forgotten cities in the heart of great forests in south america. of rites of inconceivable horror in the fastnesses of patagonia. of . . . here i once more pulled myself up. such thoughts were no kind of proper preparation for what i might have to endure. my work that night was to be based on love, on hope, on self-sacrifice for the woman who in all the world was the closest to my heart, whose future i was to share, whether that sharing might lead me to hell or heaven. the hand which undertook such a task must have no trembling. still, those horrible memories had, i am bound to say, a useful part in my preparation for the ordeal. they were of fact which i had seen, of which i had myself been in part a sharer, and which i had survived. with such experiences behind me, could there be aught before me more dreadful? . . . moreover, if the coming ordeal was of supernatural or superhuman order, could it transcend in living horror the vilest and most desperate acts of the basest men? . . . with renewed courage i felt my way before me, till my sense of touch told me that i was at the screen behind which lay the stair to the crypt. there i waited, silent, still. my own part was done, so far as i knew how to do it. beyond this, what was to come was, so far as i knew, beyond my own control. i had done what i could; the rest must come from others. i had exactly obeyed my instructions, fulfilled my warranty to the utmost in my knowledge and power. there was, therefore, left for me in the present nothing but to wait. it is a peculiarity of absolute darkness that it creates its own reaction. the eye, wearied of the blackness, begins to imagine forms of light. how far this is effected by imagination pure and simple i know not. it may be that nerves have their own senses that bring thought to the depository common to all the human functions, but, whatever may be the mechanism or the objective, the darkness seems to people itself with luminous entities. so was it with me as i stood lonely in the dark, silent church. here and there seemed to flash tiny points of light. in the same way the silence began to be broken now and again by strange muffled sounds--the suggestion of sounds rather than actual vibrations. these were all at first of the minor importance of movement--rustlings, creakings, faint stirrings, fainter breathings. presently, when i had somewhat recovered from the sort of hypnotic trance to which the darkness and stillness had during the time of waiting reduced me, i looked around in wonder. the phantoms of light and sound seemed to have become real. there were most certainly actual little points of light in places--not enough to see details by, but quite sufficient to relieve the utter gloom. i thought--though it may have been a mingling of recollection and imagination--that i could distinguish the outlines of the church; certainly the great altar-screen was dimly visible. instinctively i looked up--and thrilled. there, hung high above me, was, surely enough, a great greek cross, outlined by tiny points of light. i lost myself in wonder, and stood still, in a purely receptive mood, unantagonistic to aught, willing for whatever might come, ready for all things, in rather a negative than a positive mood--a mood which has an aspect of spiritual meekness. this is the true spirit of the neophyte, and, though i did not think of it at the time, the proper attitude for what is called by the church in whose temple i stood a "neo-nymph." as the light grew a little in power, though never increasing enough for distinctness, i saw dimly before me a table on which rested a great open book, whereon were laid two rings--one of sliver, the other of gold--and two crowns wrought of flowers, bound at the joining of their stems with tissue--one of gold, the other of silver. i do not know much of the ritual of the old greek church, which is the religion of the blue mountains, but the things which i saw before me could be none other than enlightening symbols. instinctively i knew that i had been brought hither, though in this grim way, to be married. the very idea of it thrilled me to the heart's core. i thought the best thing i could do would be to stay quite still, and not show surprise at anything that might happen; but be sure i was all eyes and ears. i peered anxiously around me in every direction, but i could see no sign of her whom i had come to meet. incidentally, however, i noticed that in the lighting, such as it was, there was no flame, no "living" light. whatever light there was came muffled, as though through some green translucent stone. the whole effect was terribly weird and disconcerting. presently i started, as, seemingly out of the darkness beside me, a man's hand stretched out and took mine. turning, i found close to me a tall man with shining black eyes and long black hair and beard. he was clad in some kind of gorgeous robe of cloth of gold, rich with variety of adornment. his head was covered with a high, over-hanging hat draped closely with a black scarf, the ends of which formed a long, hanging veil on either side. these veils, falling over the magnificent robes of cloth of gold, had an extraordinarily solemn effect. i yielded myself to the guiding hand, and shortly found myself, so far as i could see, at one side of the sanctuary. in the floor close to my feet was a yawning chasm, into which, from so high over my head that in the uncertain light i could not distinguish its origin, hung a chain. at the sight a strange wave of memory swept over me. i could not but remember the chain which hung over the glass-covered tomb in the crypt, and i had an instinctive feeling that the grim chasm in the floor of the sanctuary was but the other side of the opening in the roof of the crypt from which the chain over the sarcophagus depended. there was a creaking sound--the groaning of a windlass and the clanking of a chain. there was heavy breathing close to me somewhere. i was so intent on what was going on that i did not see that one by one, seeming to grow out of the surrounding darkness, several black figures in monkish garb appeared with the silence of ghosts. their faces were shrouded in black cowls, wherein were holes through which i could see dark gleaming eyes. my guide held me tightly by the hand. this gave me a feeling of security in the touch which helped to retain within my breast some semblance of calm. the strain of the creaking windlass and the clanking chain continued for so long that the suspense became almost unendurable. at last there came into sight an iron ring, from which as a centre depended four lesser chains spreading wide. in a few seconds more i could see that these were fixed to the corners of the great stone tomb with the covering of glass, which was being dragged upward. as it arose it filled closely the whole aperture. when its bottom had reached the level of the floor it stopped, and remained rigid. there was no room for oscillation. it was at once surrounded by a number of black figures, who raised the glass covering and bore it away into the darkness. then there stepped forward a very tall man, black-bearded, and with head-gear like my guide, but made in triple tiers, he also was gorgeously arrayed in flowing robes of cloth of gold richly embroidered. he raised his hand, and forthwith eight other black-clad figures stepped forward, and bending over the stone coffin, raised from it the rigid form of my lady, still clad in her shroud, and laid it gently on the floor of the sanctuary. i felt it a grace that at that instant the dim lights seemed to grow less, and finally to disappear--all save the tiny points that marked the outline of the great cross high overhead. these only gave light enough to accentuate the gloom. the hand that held mine now released it, and with a sigh i realized that i was alone. after a few moments more of the groaning of the winch and clanking of the chain there was a sharp sound of stone meeting stone; then there was silence. i listened acutely, but could not hear near me the slightest sound. even the cautious, restrained breathing around me, of which up to then i had been conscious, had ceased. not knowing, in the helplessness of my ignorance, what i should do, i remained as i was, still and silent, for a time that seemed endless. at last, overcome by some emotion which i could not at the moment understand, i slowly sank to my knees and bowed my head. covering my face with my hands, i tried to recall the prayers of my youth. it was not, i am certain, that fear in any form had come upon me, or that i hesitated or faltered in my intention. that much i know now; i knew it even then. it was, i believe, that the prolonged impressive gloom and mystery had at last touched me to the quick. the bending of the knees was but symbolical of the bowing of the spirit to a higher power. when i had realized that much, i felt more content than i had done since i had entered the church, and with the renewed consciousness of courage, took my hands from my face, and lifted again my bowed head. impulsively i sprang to my feet and stood erect--waiting. all seemed to have changed since i had dropped on my knees. the points of light about time church, which had been eclipsed, had come again, and were growing in power to a partial revealing of the dim expanse. before me was the table with the open book, on which were laid the gold and silver rings and the two crowns of flowers. there were also two tall candles, with tiniest flames of blue--the only living light to be seen. out of the darkness stepped the same tall figure in the gorgeous robes and the triple hat. he led by the hand my lady, still clad in her shroud; but over it, descending from the crown of her head, was a veil of very old and magnificent lace of astonishing fineness. even in that dim light i could note the exquisite beauty of the fabric. the veil was fastened with a bunch of tiny sprays of orange-blossom mingled with cypress and laurel--a strange combination. in her hand she carried a great bouquet of the same. its sweet intoxicating odour floated up to my nostrils. it and the sentiment which its very presence evoked made me quiver. yielding to the guiding of the hand which held hers, she stood at my left side before the table. her guide then took his place behind her. at either end of the table, to right and left of us, stood a long-bearded priest in splendid robes, and wearing the hat with depending veil of black. one of them, who seemed to be the more important of the two, and took the initiative, signed to us to put our right hands on the open book. my lady, of course, understood the ritual, and knew the words which the priest was speaking, and of her own accord put out her hand. my guide at the same moment directed my hand to the same end. it thrilled me to touch my lady's hand, even under such mysterious conditions. after the priest had signed us each thrice on the forehead with the sign of the cross, he gave to each of us a tiny lighted taper brought to him for the purpose. the lights were welcome, not so much for the solace of the added light, great as that was, but because it allowed us to see a little more of each other's faces. it was rapture to me to see the face of my bride; and from the expression of her face i was assured that she felt as i did. it gave me an inexpressible pleasure when, as her eyes rested on me, there grew a faint blush over the grey pallor of her cheeks. the priest then put in solemn voice to each of us in turn, beginning with me, the questions of consent which are common to all such rituals. i answered as well as i could, following the murmured words of my guide. my lady answered out proudly in a voice which, though given softly, seemed to ring. it was a concern--even a grief--to me that i could not, in the priest's questioning, catch her name, of which, strangely enough,--i was ignorant. but, as i did not know the language, and as the phrases were not in accord literally with our own ritual, i could not make out which word was the name. after some prayers and blessings, rhythmically spoken or sung by an invisible choir, the priest took the rings from the open book, and, after signing my forehead thrice with the gold one as he repeated the blessing in each case, placed it on my right hand; then he gave my lady the silver one, with the same ritual thrice repeated. i suppose it was the blessing which is the effective point in making two into one. after this, those who stood behind us exchanged our rings thrice, taking them from one finger and placing them on the other, so that at the end my wife wore the gold ring and i the silver one. then came a chant, during which the priest swung the censer himself, and my wife and i held our tapers. after that he blessed us, the responses coming from the voices of the unseen singers in the darkness. after a long ritual of prayer and blessing, sung in triplicate, the priest took the crowns of flowers, and put one on the head of each, crowning me first, and with the crown tied with gold. then he signed and blessed us each thrice. the guides, who stood behind us, exchanged our crowns thrice, as they had exchanged the rings; so that at the last, as i was glad to see, my wife wore the crown of gold, and i that of silver. then there came, if it is possible to describe such a thing, a hush over even that stillness, as though some form of added solemnity were to be gone through. i was not surprised, therefore, when the priest took in his hands the great golden chalice. kneeling, my wife and i partook together thrice. when we had risen from our knees and stood for a little while, the priest took my left hand in his right, and i, by direction of my guide, gave my right hand to my wife. and so in a line, the priest leading, we circled round the table in rhythmic measure. those who supported us moved behind us, holding the crowns over our heads, and replacing them when we stopped. after a hymn, sung through the darkness, the priest took off our crowns. this was evidently the conclusion of the ritual, for the priest placed us in each other's arms to embrace each other. then he blessed us, who were now man and wife! the lights went out at once, some as if extinguished, others slowly fading down to blackness. left in the dark, my wife and i sought each other's arms again, and stood together for a few moments heart to heart, tightly clasping each other, and kissed each other fervently. instinctively we turned to the door of the church, which was slightly open, so that we could see the moonlight stealing in through the aperture. with even steps, she holding me tightly by the left arm--which is the wife's arm, we passed through the old church and out into the free air. despite all that the gloom had brought me, it was sweet to be in the open air and together--this quite apart from our new relations to each other. the moon rode high, and the full light, coming after the dimness or darkness in the church, seemed as bright as day. i could now, for the first time, see my wife's face properly. the glamour of the moonlight may have served to enhance its ethereal beauty, but neither moonlight nor sunlight could do justice to that beauty in its living human splendour. as i gloried in her starry eyes i could think of nothing else; but when for a moment my eyes, roving round for the purpose of protection, caught sight of her whole figure, there was a pang to my heart. the brilliant moonlight showed every detail in terrible effect, and i could see that she wore only her shroud. in the moment of darkness, after the last benediction, before she returned to my arms, she must have removed her bridal veil. this may, of course, have been in accordance with the established ritual of her church; but, all the same, my heart was sore. the glamour of calling her my very own was somewhat obscured by the bridal adornment being shorn. but it made no difference in her sweetness to me. together we went along the path through the wood, she keeping equal step with me in wifely way. when we had come through the trees near enough to see the roof of the castle, now gilded with the moonlight, she stopped, and looking at me with eyes full of love, said: "here i must leave you!" "what?" i was all aghast, and i felt that my chagrin was expressed in the tone of horrified surprise in my voice. she went on quickly: "alas! it is impossible that i should go farther--at present!" "but what is to prevent you?" i queried. "you are now my wife. this is our wedding-night; and surely your place is with me!" the wail in her voice as she answered touched me to the quick: "oh, i know, i know! there is no dearer wish in my heart--there can be none--than to share my husband's home. oh, my dear, my dear, if you only knew what it would be to me to be with you always! but indeed i may not--not yet! i am not free! if you but knew how much that which has happened to-night has cost me--or how much cost to others as well as to myself may be yet to come--you would understand. rupert"--it was the first time she had ever addressed me by name, and naturally it thrilled me through and through--"rupert, my husband, only that i trust you with all the faith which is in perfect love--mutual love, i dare not have done what i have done this night. but, dear, i know that you will bear me out; that your wife's honour is your honour, even as your honour is mine. my honour is given to this; and you can help me--the only help i can have at present--by trusting me. be patient, my beloved, be patient! oh, be patient for a little longer! it shall not be for long. so soon as ever my soul is freed i shall come to you, my husband; and we shall never part again. be content for a while! believe me that i love you with my very soul; and to keep away from your dear side is more bitter for me than even it can be for you! think, my dear one, i am not as other women are, as some day you shall clearly understand. i am at the present, and shall be for a little longer, constrained by duties and obligations put upon me by others, and for others, and to which i am pledged by the most sacred promises--given not only by myself, but by others--and which i must not forgo. these forbid me to do as i wish. oh, trust me, my beloved--my husband!" she held out her hands appealingly. the moonlight, falling through the thinning forest, showed her white cerements. then the recollection of all she must have suffered--the awful loneliness in that grim tomb in the crypt, the despairing agony of one who is helpless against the unknown--swept over me in a wave of pity. what could i do but save her from further pain? and this could only be by showing her my faith and trust. if she was to go back to that dreadful charnel-house, she would at least take with her the remembrance that one who loved her and whom she loved--to whom she had been lately bound in the mystery of marriage--trusted her to the full. i loved her more than myself--more than my own soul; and i was moved by pity so great that all possible selfishness was merged in its depths. i bowed my head before her--my lady and my wife--as i said: "so be it, my beloved. i trust you to the full, even as you trust me. and that has been proven this night, even to my own doubting heart. i shall wait; and as i know you wish it, i shall wait as patiently as i can. but till you come to me for good and all, let me see you or hear from you when you can. the time, dear wife, must go heavily with me as i think of you suffering and lonely. so be good to me, and let not too long a time elapse between my glimpses of hope. and, sweetheart, when you _do_ come to me, it shall be for ever!" there was something in the intonation of the last sentence--i felt its sincerity myself--some implied yearning for a promise, that made her beautiful eyes swim. the glorious stars in them were blurred as she answered with a fervour which seemed to me as more than earthly: "for ever! i swear it!" with one long kiss, and a straining in each others arms, which left me tingling for long after we had lost sight of each other, we parted. i stood and watched her as her white figure, gliding through the deepening gloom, faded as the forest thickened. it surely was no optical delusion or a phantom of the mind that her shrouded arm was raised as though in blessing or farewell before the darkness swallowed her up. book vi: the pursuit in the forest rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , . there is no anodyne but work to pain of the heart; and my pain is all of the heart. i sometimes feel that it is rather hard that with so much to make me happy i cannot know happiness. how can i be happy when my wife, whom i fondly love, and who i know loves me, is suffering in horror and loneliness of a kind which is almost beyond human belief? however, what is my loss is my country's gain, for the land of the blue mountains is my country now, despite the fact that i am still a loyal subject of good king edward. uncle roger took care of that when he said i should have the consent of the privy council before i might be naturalized anywhere else. when i got home yesterday morning i naturally could not sleep. the events of the night and the bitter disappointment that followed my exciting joy made such a thing impossible. when i drew the curtain over the window, the reflection of the sunrise was just beginning to tinge the high-sailing clouds in front of me. i laid down and tried to rest, but without avail. however, i schooled myself to lie still, and at last, if i did not sleep, was at least quiescent. disturbed by a gentle tap at the door, i sprang up at once and threw on a dressing gown. outside, when i opened the door, was aunt janet. she was holding a lighted candle in her hand, for though it was getting light in the open, the passages were still dark. when she saw me she seemed to breathe more freely, and asked if she might come in. whilst she sat on the edge of my bed, in her old-time way, she said in a hushed voice: "oh, laddie, laddie, i trust yer burden is no too heavy to bear." "my burden! what on earth do you mean, aunt janet?" i said in reply. i did not wish to commit myself by a definite answer, for it was evident that she had been dreaming or second sighting again. she replied with the grim seriousness usual to her when she touched on occult matters: "i saw your hairt bleeding, laddie. i kent it was yours, though how i kent it i don't know. it lay on a stone floor in the dark, save for a dim blue light such as corpse-lights are. on it was placed a great book, and close around were scattered many strange things, amongst them two crowns o' flowers--the one bound wi' silver, the other wi' gold. there was also a golden cup, like a chalice, o'erturned. the red wine trickled from it an' mingled wi' yer hairt's bluid; for on the great book was some vast dim weight wrapped up in black, and on it stepped in turn many men all swathed in black. an' as the weight of each came on it the bluid gushed out afresh. and oh, yer puir hairt, my laddie, was quick and leaping, so that at every beat it raised the black-clad weight! an' yet that was not all, for hard by stood a tall imperial shape o' a woman, all arrayed in white, wi' a great veil o' finest lace worn o'er a shrood. an' she was whiter than the snow, an' fairer than the morn for beauty; though a dark woman she was, wi' hair like the raven, an' eyes black as the sea at nicht, an' there was stars in them. an' at each beat o' yer puir bleeding hairt she wrung her white hands, an' the manin' o' her sweet voice rent my hairt in twain. oh, laddie, laddie! what does it mean?" i managed to murmur: "i'm sure i don't know, aunt janet. i suppose it was all a dream!" "a dream it was, my dear. a dream or a veesion, whilka matters nane, for a' such are warnin's sent frae god . . . " suddenly she said in a different voice: "laddie, hae ye been fause to any lassie? i'm no blamin' ye. for ye men are different frae us women, an' yer regard on recht and wrang differs from oors. but oh, laddie, a woman's tears fa' heavy when her hairt is for sair wi' the yieldin' to fause words. 'tis a heavy burden for ony man to carry wi' him as he goes, an' may well cause pain to ithers that he fain would spare." she stopped, and in dead silence waited for me to speak. i thought it would be best to set her poor loving heart at rest, and as i could not divulge my special secret, spoke in general terms: "aunt janet, i am a man, and have led a man's life, such as it is. but i can tell you, who have always loved me and taught me to be true, that in all the world there is no woman who must weep for any falsity of mine. if close there be any who, sleeping or waking, in dreams or visions or in reality, weeps because of me, it is surely not for my doing, but because of something outside me. it may be that her heart is sore because i must suffer, as all men must in some degree; but she does not weep for or through any act of mine." she sighed happily at my assurance, and looked up through her tears, for she was much moved; and after tenderly kissing my forehead and blessing me, stole away. she was more sweet and tender than i have words to say, and the only regret that i have in all that is gone is that i have not been able to bring my wife to her, and let her share in the love she has for me. but that, too, will come, please god! in the morning i sent a message to rooke at otranto, instructing him by code to bring the yacht to vissarion in the coming night. all day i spent in going about amongst the mountaineers, drilling them and looking after their arms. i _could_ not stay still. my only chance of peace was to work, my only chance of sleep to tire myself out. unhappily, i am very strong, so even when i came home at dark i was quite fresh. however, i found a cable message from rooke that the yacht would arrive at midnight. there was no need to summon the mountaineers, as the men in the castle would be sufficient to make preparations for the yacht's coming. _later_. the yacht has come. at half-past eleven the lookout signalled that a steamer without lights was creeping in towards the creek. i ran out to the flagstaff, and saw her steal in like a ghost. she is painted a steely blue-grey, and it is almost impossible to see her at any distance. she certainly goes wonderfully. although there was not enough throb from the engines to mar the absolute stillness, she came on at a fine speed, and within a few minutes was close to the boom. i had only time to run down to give orders to draw back the boom when she glided in and stopped dead at the harbour wall. rooke steered her himself, and he says he never was on a boat that so well or so quickly answered her helm. she is certainly a beauty, and so far as i can see at night perfect in every detail. i promise myself a few pleasant hours over her in the daylight. the men seem a splendid lot. but i do not feel sleepy; i despair of sleep to-night. but work demands that i be fit for whatever may come, and so i shall try to sleep--to rest, at any rate. rupert's journal.--_continued_. _july_ , . i was up with the first ray of sunrise, so by the time i had my bath and was dressed there was ample light. i went down to the dock at once, and spent the morning looking over the vessel, which fully justifies rooke's enthusiasm about her. she is built on lovely lines, and i can quite understand that she is enormously fast. her armour i can only take on the specifications, but her armament is really wonderful. and there are not only all the very newest devices of aggressive warfare--indeed, she has the newest up-to-date torpedoes and torpedo-guns--but also the old-fashioned rocket-tubes, which in certain occasions are so useful. she has electric guns and the latest massillon water-guns, and reinhardt electro-pneumatic "deliverers" for pyroxiline shells. she is even equipped with war-balloons easy of expansion, and with compressible kitson aeroplanes. i don't suppose that there is anything quite like her in the world. the crew are worthy of her. i can't imagine where rooke picked up such a splendid lot of men. they are nearly all man-of-warsmen; of various nationalities, but mostly british. all young men--the oldest of them hasn't got into the forties--and, so far as i can learn, all experts of one kind or another in some special subject of warfare. it will go hard with me, but i shall keep them together. how i got through the rest of the day i know not. i tried hard not to create any domestic trouble by my manner, lest aunt janet should, after her lurid dream or vision of last night, attach some new importance to it. i think i succeeded, for she did not, so far as i could tell, take any special notice of me. we parted as usual at half-past ten, and i came here and made this entry in my journal. i am more restless than ever to-night, and no wonder. i would give anything to be able to pay a visit to st. sava's, and see my wife again--if it were only sleeping in her tomb. but i dare not do even that, lest she should come to see me here, and i should miss her. so i have done what i can. the glass door to the terrace is open, so that she can enter at once if she comes. the fire is lit, and the room is warm. there is food ready in case she should care for it. i have plenty of light in the room, so that through the aperture where i have not fully drawn the curtain there may be light to guide her. oh, how the time drags! the clock has struck midnight. one, two! thank goodness, it will shortly be dawn, and the activity of the day may begin! work may again prove, in a way, to be an anodyne. in the meantime i must write on, lest despair overwhelm me. once during the night i thought i heard a footstep outside. i rushed to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to see, no sound to hear. that was a little after one o'clock. i feared to go outside, lest that should alarm her; so i came back to my table. i could not write, but i sat as if writing for a while. but i could not stand it, so rose and walked about the room. as i walked i felt that my lady--it gives me a pang every time i remember that i do not know even her name--was not quite so far away from me. it made my heart beat to think that it might mean that she was coming to me. could not i as well as aunt janet have a little second sight! i went towards the window, and, standing behind the curtain, listened. far away i thought i heard a cry, and ran out on the terrace; but there was no sound to be heard, and no sign of any living thing anywhere; so i took it for granted that it was the cry of some night bird, and came back to my room, and wrote at my journal till i was calm. i think my nerves must be getting out of order, when every sound of the night seems to have a special meaning for me. rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , when the grey of the morning came, i gave up hope of my wife appearing, and made up my mind that, so soon as i could get away without exciting aunt janet's attention, i would go to st. sava's. i always eat a good breakfast, and did i forgo it altogether, it would be sure to excite her curiosity--a thing i do not wish at present. as there was still time to wait, i lay down on my bed as i was, and--such is the way of fate--shortly fell asleep. i was awakened by a terrific clattering at my door. when i opened it i found a little group of servants, very apologetic at awaking me without instructions. the chief of them explained that a young priest had come from the vladika with a message so urgent that he insisted on seeing me immediately at all hazards. i came out at once, and found him in the hall of the castle, standing before the great fire, which was always lit in the early morning. he had a letter in his hand, but before giving it to me he said: "i am sent by the vladika, who pressed on me that i was not to lose a single instant in seeing you; that time is of golden price--nay, beyond price. this letter, amongst other things, vouches for me. a terrible misfortune has occurred. the daughter of our leader has disappeared during last night--the same, he commanded me to remind you, that he spoke of at the meeting when he would not let the mountaineers fire their guns. no sign of her can be found, and it is believed that she has been carried off by the emissaries of the sultan of turkey, who once before brought our nations to the verge of war by demanding her as a wife. i was also to say that the vladika plamenac would have come himself, but that it was necessary that he should at once consult with the archbishop, stevan palealogue, as to what step is best to take in this dire calamity. he has sent out a search-party under the archimandrite of spazac, petrof vlastimir, who is to come on here with any news he can get, as you have command of the signalling, and can best spread the news. he knows that you, gospodar, are in your great heart one of our compatriots, and that you have already proved your friendship by many efforts to strengthen our hands for war. and as a great compatriot, he calls on you to aid us in our need." he then handed me the letter, and stood by respectfully whilst i broke the seal and read it. it was written in great haste, and signed by the vladika. "come with us now in our nation's peril. help us to rescue what we most adore, and henceforth we shall hold you in our hearts. you shall learn how the men of the blue mountains can love faith and valour. come!" this was a task indeed--a duty worthy of any man. it thrilled me to the core to know that the men of the blue mountains had called on me in their dire need. it woke all the fighting instinct of my viking forbears, and i vowed in my heart that they should be satisfied with my work. i called to me the corps of signallers who were in the house, and led them to the castle roof, taking with me the young messenger-priest. "come with me," i said to him, "and see how i answer the vladika's command." the national flag was run up--the established signal that the nation was in need. instantly on every summit near and far was seen the flutter of an answering flag. quickly followed the signal that commanded the call to arms. one by one i gave the signallers orders in quick succession, for the plan of search unfolded itself to me as i went on. the arms of the semaphore whirled in a way that made the young priest stare. one by one, as they took their orders, the signallers seemed to catch fire. instinctively they understood the plan, and worked like demigods. they knew that so widespread a movement had its best chance in rapidity and in unity of action. from the forest which lay in sight of the castle came a wild cheering, which seemed to interpret the former stillness of the hills. it was good to feel that those who saw the signals--types of many--were ready. i saw the look of expectation on the face of the messenger-priest, and rejoiced at the glow that came as i turned to him to speak. of course, he wanted to know something of what was going on. i saw the flashing of my own eyes reflected in his as i spoke: "tell the vladika that within a minute of his message being read the land of the blue mountains was awake. the mountaineers are already marching, and before the sun is high there will be a line of guards within hail of each other round the whole frontier--from angusa to ilsin; from ilsin to bajana; from bajana to ispazar; from ispazar to volok; from volok to tatra; from tatra to domitan; from domitan to gravaja; and from gravaja back to angusa. the line is double. the old men keep guard on the line, and the young men advance. these will close in at the advancing line, so that nothing can escape them. they will cover mountain-top and forest depth, and will close in finally on the castle here, which they can behold from afar. my own yacht is here, and will sweep the coast from end to end. it is the fastest boat afloat, and armed against a squadron. here will all signals come. in an hour where we stand will be a signal bureau, where trained eyes will watch night and day till the lost one has been found and the outrage has been avenged. the robbers are even now within a ring of steel, and cannot escape." the young priest, all on fire, sprang on the battlements and shouted to the crowd, which was massing round the castle in the gardens far below. the forest was giving up its units till they seemed like the nucleus of an army. the men cheered lustily, till the sound swung high up to us like the roaring of a winter sea. with bared heads they were crying: "god and the blue mountains! god and the blue mountains!" i ran down to them as quickly as i could, and began to issue their instructions. within a time to be computed by minutes the whole number, organized by sections, had started to scour the neighbouring mountains. at first they had only understood the call to arms for general safety. but when they learned that the daughter of a chief had been captured, they simply went mad. from something which the messenger first said, but which i could not catch or did not understand, the blow seemed to have for them some sort of personal significance which wrought them to a frenzy. when the bulk of the men had disappeared, i took with me a few of my own men and several of the mountaineers whom i had asked to remain, and together we went to the hidden ravine which i knew. we found the place empty; but there were unmistakable signs that a party of men had been encamped there for several days. some of our men, who were skilled in woodcraft and in signs generally, agreed that there must have been some twenty of them. as they could not find any trail either coming to or going from the place, they came to the conclusion that they must have come separately from different directions and gathered there, and that they must have departed in something of the same mysterious way. however, this was, at any rate, some sort of a beginning, and the men separated, having agreed amongst themselves to make a wide cast round the place in the search for tracks. whoever should find a trail was to follow with at least one comrade, and when there was any definite news, it was to be signalled to the castle. i myself returned at once, and set the signallers to work to spread amongst our own people such news as we had. when presently such discoveries as had been made were signalled with flags to the castle, it was found that the marauders had, in their flight, followed a strangely zigzag course. it was evident that, in trying to baffle pursuit, they had tried to avoid places which they thought might be dangerous to them. this may have been simply a method to disconcert pursuit. if so, it was, in a measure, excellent, for none of those immediately following could possibly tell in what direction they were heading. it was only when we worked the course on the great map in the signaller's room (which was the old guard room of the castle) that we could get an inkling of the general direction of their flight. this gave added trouble to the pursuit; for the men who followed, being ignorant of their general intent, could not ever take chance to head them off, but had to be ready to follow in any or every direction. in this manner the pursuit was altogether a stern chase, and therefore bound to be a long one. as at present we could not do anything till the intended route was more marked, i left the signalling corps to the task of receiving and giving information to the moving bands, so that, if occasion served, they might head off the marauders. i myself took rooke, as captain of the yacht, and swept out of the creek. we ran up north to dalairi, then down south to olesso, and came back to vissarion. we saw nothing suspicious except, far off to the extreme southward, one warship which flew no flag. rooke, however, who seemed to know ships by instinct, said she was a turk; so on our return we signalled along the whole shore to watch her. rooke held the lady--which was the name i had given the armoured yacht--in readiness to dart out in case anything suspicious was reported. he was not to stand on any ceremony, but if necessary to attack. we did not intend to lose a point in this desperate struggle which we had undertaken. we had placed in different likely spots a couple of our own men to look after the signalling. when i got back i found that the route of the fugitives, who had now joined into one party, had been definitely ascertained. they had gone south, but manifestly taking alarm from the advancing line of guards, had headed up again to the north-east, where the country was broader and the mountains wilder and less inhabited. forthwith, leaving the signalling altogether in the hands of the fighting priests, i took a small chosen band of the mountaineers of our own district, and made, with all the speed we could, to cut across the track of the fugitives a little ahead of them. the archimandrite (abbot) of spazac, who had just arrived, came with us. he is a splendid man--a real fighter as well as a holy cleric, as good with his handjar as with his bible, and a runner to beat the band. the marauders were going at a fearful pace, considering that they were all afoot; so we had to go fast also! amongst these mountains there is no other means of progressing. our own men were so aflame with ardour that i could not but notice that they, more than any of the others whom i had seen, had some special cause for concern. when i mentioned it to the archimandrite, who moved by my side, he answered: "all natural enough; they are not only fighting for their country, but for their own!" i did not quite understand his answer, and so began to ask him some questions, to the effect that i soon began to understand a good deal more than he did. _letter from archbishop stevan palealogue_, _head of the eastern church of the blue mountains_, _to the lady janet mackelpie_, _vissarion_. _written july_ , . honoured lady, as you wish for an understanding regarding the late lamentable occurrence in which so much danger was incurred to this our land of the blue mountains, and one dear to us, i send these words by request of the gospodar rupert, beloved of our mountaineers. when the voivode peter vissarion made his journey to the great nation to whom we looked in our hour of need, it was necessary that he should go in secret. the turk was at our gates, and full of the malice of baffled greed. already he had tried to arrange a marriage with the voivodin, so that in time to come he, as her husband, might have established a claim to the inheritance of the land. well he knew, as do all men, that the blue mountaineers owe allegiance to none that they themselves do not appoint to rulership. this has been the history in the past. but now and again an individual has arisen or come to the front adapted personally for such government as this land requires. and so the lady teuta, voivodin of the blue mountains, was put for her proper guarding in the charge of myself as head of the eastern church in the land of the blue mountains, steps being taken in such wise that no capture of her could be effected by unscrupulous enemies of this our land. this task and guardianship was gladly held as an honour by all concerned. for the voivodin teuta of vissarion must be taken as representing in her own person the glory of the old serb race, inasmuch as being the only child of the voivode vissarion, last male of his princely race--the race which ever, during the ten centuries of our history, unflinchingly gave life and all they held for the protection, safety, and well-being of the land of the blue mountains. never during those centuries had any one of the race been known to fail in patriotism, or to draw back from any loss or hardship enjoined by high duty or stress of need. moreover, this was the race of that first voivode vissarion, of whom, in legend, it was prophesied that he--once known as "the sword of freedom," a giant amongst men--would some day, when the nation had need of him, come forth from his water-tomb in the lost lake of reo, and lead once more the men of the blue mountains to lasting victory. this noble race, then, had come to be known as the last hope of the land. so that when the voivode was away on his country's service, his daughter should be closely guarded. soon after the voivode had gone, it was reported that he might be long delayed in his diplomacies, and also in studying the system of constitutional monarchy, for which it had been hoped to exchange our imperfect political system. i may say _inter alia_ that he was mentioned as to be the first king when the new constitution should have been arranged. then a great misfortune came on us; a terrible grief overshadowed the land. after a short illness, the voivodin teuta vissarion died mysteriously of a mysterious ailment. the grief of the mountaineers was so great that it became necessary for the governing council to warn them not to allow their sorrow to be seen. it was imperatively necessary that the fact of her death should be kept secret. for there were dangers and difficulties of several kinds. in the first place it was advisable that even her father should be kept in ignorance of his terrible loss. it was well known that he held her as the very core of his heart and that if he should hear of her death, he would be too much prostrated to be able to do the intricate and delicate work which he had undertaken. nay, more: he would never remain afar off, under the sad circumstances, but would straightway return, so as to be in the land where she lay. then suspicions would crop up, and the truth must shortly be known afield, with the inevitable result that the land would become the very centre of a war of many nations. in the second place, if the turks were to know that the race of vissarion was becoming extinct, this would encourage them to further aggression, which would become immediate should they find out that the voivode was himself away. it was well known that they were already only suspending hostilities until a fitting opportunity should arise. their desire for aggression had become acute after the refusal of the nation, and of the girl herself, that she should become a wife of the sultan. the dead girl had been buried in the crypt of the church of st. sava, and day after day and night after night, singly and in parties, the sorrowing mountaineers had come to pay devotion and reverence at her tomb. so many had wished to have a last glimpse of her face that the vladika had, with my own consent as archbishop, arranged for a glass cover to be put over the stone coffin wherein her body lay. after a little time, however, there came a belief to all concerned in the guarding of the body--these, of course, being the priests of various degrees of dignity appointed to the task--that the voivodin was not really dead, but only in a strangely-prolonged trance. thereupon a new complication arose. our mountaineers are, as perhaps you know, by nature deeply suspicious--a characteristic of all brave and self-sacrificing people who are jealous of their noble heritage. having, as they believed, seen the girl dead, they might not be willing to accept the fact of her being alive. they might even imagine that there was on foot some deep, dark plot which was, or might be, a menace, now or hereafter, to their independence. in any case, there would be certain to be two parties on the subject, a dangerous and deplorable thing in the present condition of affairs. as the trance, or catalepsy, whatever it was, continued for many days, there had been ample time for the leaders of the council, the vladika, the priesthood represented by the archimandrite of spazac, myself as archbishop and guardian of the voivodin in her father's absence, to consult as to a policy to be observed in case of the girl awaking. for in such case the difficulty of the situation would be multiplied indefinitely. in the secret chambers of st. sava's we had many secret meetings, and were finally converging on agreement when the end of the trance came. the girl awoke! she was, of course, terribly frightened when she found herself in a tomb in the crypt. it was truly fortunate that the great candles around her tomb had been kept lighted, for their light mitigated the horror of the place. had she waked in darkness, her reason might have become unseated. she was, however, a very noble girl; brave, with extraordinary will, and resolution, and self-command, and power of endurance. when she had been taken into one of the secret chambers of the church, where she was warmed and cared for, a hurried meeting was held by the vladika, myself, and the chiefs of the national council. word had been at once sent to me of the joyful news of her recovery; and with the utmost haste i came, arriving in time to take a part in the council. at the meeting the voivodin was herself present, and full confidence of the situation was made to her. she herself proposed that the belief in her death should be allowed to prevail until the return of her father, when all could be effectively made clear. to this end she undertook to submit to the terrific strain which such a proceeding would involve. at first we men could not believe that any woman could go through with such a task, and some of us did not hesitate to voice our doubts--our disbelief. but she stood to her guns, and actually down-faced us. at the last we, remembering things that had been done, though long ages ago, by others of her race, came to believe not merely in her self-belief and intention, but even in the feasibility of her plan. she took the most solemn oaths not to betray the secret under any possible stress. the priesthood undertook through the vladika and myself to further a ghostly belief amongst the mountaineers which would tend to prevent a too close or too persistent observation. the vampire legend was spread as a protection against partial discovery by any mischance, and other weird beliefs were set afoot and fostered. arrangements were made that only on certain days were the mountaineers to be admitted to the crypt, she agreeing that for these occasions she was to take opiates or carry out any other aid to the preservation of the secret. she was willing, she impressed upon us, to make any personal sacrifice which might be deemed necessary for the carrying out her father's task for the good of the nation. of course, she had at first terrible frights lying alone in the horror of the crypt. but after a time the terrors of the situation, if they did not cease, were mitigated. there are secret caverns off the crypt, wherein in troublous times the priests and others of high place have found safe retreat. one of these was prepared for the voivodin, and there she remained, except for such times as she was on show--and certain other times of which i shall tell you. provision was made for the possibility of any accidental visit to the church. at such times, warned by an automatic signal from the opening door, she was to take her place in the tomb. the mechanism was so arranged that the means to replace the glass cover, and to take the opiate, were there ready to her hand. there was to be always a watch of priests at night in the church, to guard her from ghostly fears as well as from more physical dangers; and if she was actually in her tomb, it was to be visited at certain intervals. even the draperies which covered her in the sarcophagus were rested on a bridge placed from side to side just above her, so as to hide the rising and falling of her bosom as she slept under the narcotic. after a while the prolonged strain began to tell so much on her that it was decided that she should take now and again exercise out of doors. this was not difficult, for when the vampire story which we had spread began to be widely known, her being seen would be accepted as a proof of its truth. still, as there was a certain danger in her being seen at all, we thought it necessary to exact from her a solemn oath that so long as her sad task lasted she should under no circumstances ever wear any dress but her shroud--this being the only way to insure secrecy and to prevail against accident. there is a secret way from the crypt to a sea cavern, whose entrance is at high-tide under the water-line at the base of the cliff on which the church is built. a boat, shaped like a coffin, was provided for her; and in this she was accustomed to pass across the creek whenever she wished to make excursion. it was an excellent device, and most efficacious in disseminating the vampire belief. this state of things had now lasted from before the time when the gospodar rupert came to vissarion up to the day of the arrival of the armoured yacht. that night the priest on duty, on going his round of the crypt just before dawn, found the tomb empty. he called the others, and they made full search. the boat was gone from the cavern, but on making search they found it on the farther side of the creek, close to the garden stairs. beyond this they could discover nothing. she seemed to have disappeared without leaving a trace. straightway they went to the vladika, and signalled to me by the fire-signal at the monastery at astrag, where i then was. i took a band of mountaineers with me, and set out to scour the country. but before going i sent an urgent message to the gospodar rupert, asking him, who showed so much interest and love to our land, to help us in our trouble. he, of course, knew nothing then of all have now told you. nevertheless, he devoted himself whole-heartedly to our needs--as doubtless you know. but the time had now come close when the voivode vissarion was about to return from his mission; and we of the council of his daughter's guardianship were beginning to arrange matters so that at his return the good news of her being still alive could be made public. with her father present to vouch for her, no question as to truth could arise. but by some means the turkish "bureau of spies" must have got knowledge of the fact already. to steal a dead body for the purpose of later establishing a fictitious claim would have been an enterprise even more desperate than that already undertaken. we inferred from many signs, made known to us in an investigation, that a daring party of the sultan's emissaries had made a secret incursion with the object of kidnapping the voivodin. they must have been bold of heart and strong of resource to enter the land of the blue mountains on any errand, let alone such a desperate one as this. for centuries we have been teaching the turk through bitter lessons that it is neither a safe task nor an easy one to make incursion here. how they did it we know not--at present; but enter they did, and, after waiting in some secret hiding-place for a favourable opportunity, secured their prey. we know not even now whether they had found entrance to the crypt and stole, as they thought, the dead body, or whether, by some dire mischance, they found her abroad--under her disguise as a ghost. at any rate, they had captured her, and through devious ways amongst the mountains were bearing her back to turkey. it was manifest that when she was on turkish soil the sultan would force a marriage on her so as eventually to secure for himself or his successors as against all other nations a claim for the suzerainty or guardianship of the blue mountains. such was the state of affairs when the gospodar rupert threw himself into the pursuit with fiery zeal and the berserk passion which he inherited from viking ancestors, whence of old came "the sword of freedom" himself. but at that very time was another possibility which the gospodar was himself the first to realize. failing the getting the voivodin safe to turkish soil, the ravishers might kill her! this would be entirely in accord with the base traditions and history of the moslems. so, too, it would accord with turkish customs and the sultan's present desires. it would, in its way, benefit the ultimate strategetic ends of turkey. for were once the vissarion race at an end, the subjection of the land of the blue mountains might, in their view, be an easier task than it had yet been found to be. such, illustrious lady, were the conditions of affairs when the gospodar rupert first drew his handjar for the blue mountains and what it held most dear. palealogue, _archbishop of the eastern church_, _in the land of the blue mountains_. rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , . i wonder if ever in the long, strange history of the world had there come to any other such glad tidings as came to me--and even then rather inferentially than directly--from the archimandrite's answers to my questioning. happily i was able to restrain myself, or i should have created some strange confusion which might have evoked distrust, and would certainly have hampered us in our pursuit. for a little i could hardly accept the truth which wove itself through my brain as the true inwardness of each fact came home to me and took its place in the whole fabric. but even the most welcome truth has to be accepted some time by even a doubting heart. my heart, whatever it may have been, was not then a doubting heart, but a very, very grateful one. it was only the splendid magnitude of the truth which forbade its immediate acceptance. i could have shouted for joy, and only stilled myself by keeping my thoughts fixed on the danger which my wife was in. my wife! my wife! not a vampire; not a poor harassed creature doomed to terrible woe, but a splendid woman, brave beyond belief, patriotic in a way which has but few peers even in the wide history of bravery! i began to understand the true meaning of the strange occurrences that have come into my life. even the origin and purpose of that first strange visit to my room became clear. no wonder that the girl could move about the castle in so mysterious a manner. she had lived there all her life, and was familiar with the secret ways of entrance and exit. i had always believed that the place must have been honeycombed with secret passages. no wonder that she could find a way to the battlements, mysterious to everybody else. no wonder that she could meet me at the flagstaff when she so desired. to say that i was in a tumult would be to but faintly express my condition. i was rapt into a heaven of delight which had no measure in all my adventurous life--the lifting of the veil which showed that my wife--mine--won in all sincerity in the very teeth of appalling difficulties and dangers--was no vampire, no corpse, no ghost or phantom, but a real woman of flesh and blood, of affection, and love, and passion. now at last would my love be crowned indeed when, having rescued her from the marauders, i should bear her to my own home, where she would live and reign in peace and comfort and honour, and in love and wifely happiness if i could achieve such a blessing for her--and for myself. but here a dreadful thought flashed across me, which in an instant turned my joy to despair, my throbbing heart to ice: "as she is a real woman, she is in greater danger than ever in the hands of turkish ruffians. to them a woman is in any case no more than a sheep; and if they cannot bring her to the harem of the sultan, they may deem it the next wisest step to kill her. in that way, too, they might find a better chance of escape. once rid of her the party could separate, and there might be a chance of some of them finding escape as individuals that would not exist for a party. but even if they did not kill her, to escape with her would be to condemn her to the worst fate of all the harem of the turk! lifelong misery and despair--however long that life might be--must be the lot of a christian woman doomed to such a lot. and to her, just happily wedded, and after she had served her country in such a noble way as she had done, that dreadful life of shameful slavery would be a misery beyond belief. "she must be rescued--and quickly! the marauders must be caught soon, and suddenly, so that they may have neither time nor opportunity to harm her, as they would be certain to do if they have warning of immediate danger. "on! on!" and "on" it was all through that terrible night as well as we could through the forest. it was a race between the mountaineers and myself as to who should be first. i understood now the feeling that animated them, and which singled them out even from amongst their fiery comrades, when the danger of the voivodin became known. these men were no mean contestants even in such a race, and, strong as i am, it took my utmost effort to keep ahead of them. they were keen as leopards, and as swift. their lives had been spent among the mountains, and their hearts and souls on were in the chase. i doubt not that if the death of any one of us could have through any means effected my wife's release, we should, if necessary, have fought amongst ourselves for the honour. from the nature of the work before us our party had to keep to the top of the hills. we had not only to keep observation on the flying party whom we followed, and to prevent them making discovery of us, but we had to be always in a position to receive and answer signals made to us from the castle, or sent to us from other eminences. _letter from petrof vlastimir_, _archimandrite of spazac_, _to the lady janet mackelpie_, _of vissarion_. _written july_ , . great lady, i am asked to write by the vladika, and have permission of the archbishop. i have the honour of transmitting to you the record of the pursuit of the turkish spies who carried off the voivodin teuta, of the noble house of vissarion. the pursuit was undertaken by the gospodar rupert, who asked that i would come with his party, since what he was so good as to call my "great knowledge of the country and its people" might serve much. it is true that i have had much knowledge of the land of the blue mountains and its people, amongst which and whom my whole life has been passed. but in such a cause no reason was required. there was not a man in the blue mountains who would not have given his life for the voivodin teuta, and when they heard that she had not been dead, as they thought, but only in a trance, and that it was she whom the marauders had carried off, they were in a frenzy. so why should i--to whom has been given the great trust of the monastery of spazac--hesitate at such a time? for myself, i wanted to hurry on, and to come at once to the fight with my country's foes; and well i knew that the gospodar rupert, with a lion's heart meet for his giant body, would press on with a matchless speed. we of the blue mountains do not lag when our foes are in front of us; most of all do we of the eastern church press on when the crescent wars against the cross! we took with us no gear or hamper of any kind; no coverings except what we stood in; no food--nothing but our handjars and our rifles, with a sufficiency of ammunition. before starting, the gospodar gave hurried orders by signal from the castle to have food and ammunition sent to us (as we might signal) by the nearest hamlet. it was high noon when we started, only ten strong--for our leader would take none but approved runners who could shoot straight and use the handjar as it should be used. so as we went light, we expected to go fast. by this time we knew from the reports signalled to vissarion that the enemies were chosen men of no despicable prowess. the keeper of the green flag of islam is well served, and as though the turk is an infidel and a dog, he is sometimes brave and strong. indeed, except when he passes the confines of the blue mountains, he has been known to do stirring deeds. but as none who have dared to wander in amongst our hills ever return to their own land, we may not know of how they speak at home of their battles here. still, these men were evidently not to be despised; and our gospodar, who is a wise man as well as a valiant, warned us to be prudent, and not to despise our foes over much. we did as he counselled, and in proof we only took ten men, as we had only twenty against us. but then there was at stake much beyond life, and we took no risks. so, as the great clock at vissarion clanged of noon, the eight fastest runners of the blue mountains, together with the gospodar rupert and myself, swept out on our journey. it had been signalled to us that the course which the marauders had as yet taken in their flight was a zigzag one, running eccentrically at all sorts of angles in all sorts of directions. but our leader had marked out a course where we might intercept our foes across the main line of their flight; and till we had reached that region we paused not a second, but went as fast as we could all night long. indeed, it was amongst us a race as was the olympic race of old greece, each one vying with his fellows, though not in jealous emulation, but in high spirit, to best serve his country and the voivodin teuta. foremost amongst us went the gospodar, bearing himself as a paladin of old, his mighty form pausing for no obstacle. perpetually did he urge us on. he would not stop or pause for a moment, but often as he and i ran together--for, lady, in my youth i was the fleetest of all in the race, and even that now can head a battalion when duty calls--he would ask me certain questions as to the lady teuta and of the strange manner of her reputed death, as it was gradually unfolded in my answers to his questioning. and as each new phase of knowledge came to him, he would rush on as one possessed of fiends: whereat our mountaineers, who seem to respect even fiends for their thoroughness, would strive to keep pace with him till they too seemed worked into diabolic possession. and i myself, left alone in the calmness of sacerdotal office, forgot even that. with surging ears and eyes that saw blood, i rushed along with best of them. then truly the spirit of a great captain showed itself in the gospodar, for when others were charged with fury he began to force himself into calm, so that out of his present self-command and the memory of his exalted position came a worthy strategy and thought for every contingency that might arise. so that when some new direction was required for our guidance, there was no hesitation in its coming. we, nine men of varying kinds, all felt that we had a master; and so, being willing to limit ourselves to strict obedience, we were free to use such thoughts as well as such powers as we had to the best advantage of the doing. we came across the trail of the flying marauders on the second morning after the abduction, a little before noon. it was easy enough to see, for by this time the miscreants were all together, and our people, who were woodlanders, were able to tell much of the party that passed. these were evidently in a terrified hurry, for they had taken no precautions such as are necessary baffle pursuit, and all of which take time. our foresters said that two went ahead and two behind. in the centre went the mass, moving close together, as though surrounding their prisoner. we caught not even a single glimpse her--could not have, they encompassed her so closely. but our foresters saw other than the mass; the ground that had been passed was before them. they knew that the prisoner had gone unwillingly--nay, more: one of them said as he rose from his knees, where he had been examining of the ground: "the misbegotten dogs have been urging her on with their yataghans! there are drops of blood, though there are no blood-marks on her feet." whereupon the gospodar flamed with passion. his teeth ground together, and with a deep-breathed "on, on!" he sprang off again, handjar in hand, on the track. before long we saw the party in the distance. they this were far below us in a deep valley, although the track of their going passed away to the right hand. they were making for the base of the great cliff, which rose before us all. their reason was twofold, as we soon knew. far off down the valley which they were crossing we saw signs of persons coming in haste, who must be of the search party coming from the north. though the trees hid them, we could not mistake the signs. i was myself forester enough to have no doubt. again, it was evident that the young voivodin could travel no longer at the dreadful pace at which they had been going. those blood-marks told their own tale! they meant to make a last stand here in case they should be discovered. then it was that he, who amongst us all had been most fierce and most bent on rapid pursuit, became the most the calm. raising his hand for silence--though, god knows, we were and had been silent enough during that long rush through the forest--he said, in a low, keen whisper which cut the silence like a knife: "my friends, the time is come for action. god be thanked, who has now brought us face to face with our foes! but we must be careful here--not on our own account, for we wish nothing more than to rush on and conquer or die--but for the sake of her whom you love, and whom i, too, love. she is in danger from anything which may give warning to those fiends. if they know or even suspect for an instant that we are near, they will murder her . . . " here his voice broke for an instant with the extremity of his passion or the depth of his feeling--i hardly know which; i think both acted on him. "we know from those blood-marks what they can do--even to her." his teeth ground together again, but he went on without stopping further: "let us arrange the battle. though we are but little distance from them as the crow flies, the way is far to travel. there is, i can see, but one path down to the valley from this side. that they have gone by, and that they will sure to guard--to watch, at any rate. let us divide, as to surround them. the cliff towards which they make runs far to the left without a break. that to the right we cannot see from this spot; but from the nature of the ground it is not unlikely that it turns round in this direction, making the hither end of the valley like a vast pocket or amphitheatre. as they have studied the ground in other places, they may have done so in this, and have come hither as to a known refuge. let one man, a marksman, stay here." as he spoke a man stepped to the front. he was, i knew, an excellent shot. "let two others go to the left and try to find a way down the cliff before us. when they have descended to the level of the valley--path or no path--let them advance cautiously and secretly, keeping their guns in readiness. but they must not fire till need. remember, my brothers," said, turning to those who stepped out a pace or two to the left, "that the first shot gives the warning which will be the signal for the voivodin's death. these men will not hesitate. you must judge yourselves of the time to shoot. the others of us will move to the right and try to find a path on that side. if the valley be indeed a pocket between the cliffs, we must find a way down that is not a path!" as he spoke thus there was a blaze in his eyes that betokened no good to aught that might stand in his way. i ran by his side as we moved to the right. it was as he surmised about the cliff. when we got a little on our way we saw how the rocky formation trended to our right, till, finally, with a wide curve, it came round to the other side. it was a fearful valley that, with its narrow girth and its towering walls that seemed to topple over. on the farther side from us the great trees that clothed the slope of the mountain over it grew down to the very edge of the rock, so that their spreading branches hung far over the chasm. and, so far as we could understand, the same condition existed on our own side. below us the valley was dark even in the daylight. we could best tell the movement of the flying marauders by the flashes of the white shroud of their captive in the midst of them. from where we were grouped, amid the great tree-trunks on the very brow of the cliff, we could, when our eyes were accustomed to the shadow, see them quite well. in great haste, and half dragging, half carrying the voivodin, they crossed the open space and took refuge in a little grassy alcove surrounded, save for its tortuous entrance, by undergrowth. from the valley level it was manifestly impossible to see them, though we from our altitude could see over the stunted undergrowth. when within the glade, they took their hands from her. she, shuddering instinctively, withdrew to a remote corner of the dell. and then, oh, shame on their manhood!--turks and heathens though they were--we could see that they had submitted her to the indignity of gagging her and binding her hands! our voivodin teuta bound! to one and all of us it was like lashing us across the face. i heard the gospodar's teeth grind again. but once more he schooled himself to calmness ere he said: "it is, perhaps, as well, great though the indignity be. they are seeking their own doom, which is coming quickly . . . moreover, they are thwarting their own base plans. now that she is bound they will trust to their binding, so that they will delay their murderous alternative to the very last moment. such is our chance of rescuing her alive!" for a few moments he stood as still as a stone, as though revolving something in his mind whilst he watched. i could see that some grim resolution was forming in his mind, for his eyes ranged to the top of the trees above cliff, and down again, very slowly this time, as though measuring and studying the detail of what was in front of him. then he spoke: "they are in hopes that the other pursuing party may not come across them. to know that, they are waiting. if those others do not come up the valley, they will proceed on their way. they will return up the path the way they came. there we can wait them, charge into the middle of them when she is opposite, and cut down those around her. then the others will open fire, and we shall be rid of them! whilst he was speaking, two of the men of our party, who i knew to be good sharpshooters, and who had just before lain on their faces and had steadied their rifles to shoot, rose to their feet. "command us, gospodar!" they said simply, as they stood to attention. "shall we go to the head of the ravine road and there take hiding?" he thought for perhaps a minute, whilst we all stood as silent as images. i could hear our hearts beating. then he said: "no, not yet. there is time for that yet. they will not--cannot stir or make plans in any way till they know whether the other party is coming towards them or not. from our height here we can see what course the others are taking long before those villains do. then we can make our plans and be ready in time." we waited many minutes, but could see no further signs the other pursuing party. these had evidently adopted greater caution in their movements as they came closer to where they expected to find the enemy. the marauders began to grow anxious. even at our distance we could gather as much from their attitude and movements. presently, when the suspense of their ignorance grew too much for them, they drew to the entrance of the glade, which was the farthest place to which, without exposing themselves to anyone who might come to the valley, they could withdraw from their captive. here they consulted together. we could follow from their gestures what they were saying, for as they did not wish their prisoner to hear, their gesticulation was enlightening to us as to each other. our people, like all mountaineers, have good eyes, and the gospodar is himself an eagle in this as in other ways. three men stood back from the rest. they stacked their rifles so that they could seize them easily. then they drew their scimitars, and stood ready, as though on guard. these were evidently the appointed murderers. well they knew their work; for though they stood in a desert place with none within long distance except the pursuing party, of whose approach they would have good notice, they stood so close to their prisoner that no marksman in the world--now or that ever had been; not william tell himself--could have harmed any of them without at least endangering her. two of them turned the voivodin round so that her face was towards the precipice--in which position she could not see what was going on--whilst he who was evidently leader of the gang explained, in gesture, that the others were going to spy upon the pursuing party. when they had located them he, or one of his men, would come out of the opening of the wood wherein they had had evidence of them, and hold up his hand. that was to be the signal for the cutting of the victim's throat--such being the chosen method (villainous even for heathen murderers) of her death. there was not one of our men who did not grind his teeth when we witnessed the grim action, only too expressive, of the turk as he drew his right hand, clenched as though he held a yataghan in it, across his throat. at the opening of the glade all the spying party halted whilst the leader appointed to each his place of entry of the wood, the front of which extended in an almost straight across the valley from cliff to cliff. the men, stooping low when in the open, and taking instant advantage of every little obstacle on the ground, seemed to fade like spectres with incredible swiftness across the level mead, and were swallowed up in the wood. when they had disappeared the gospodar rupert revealed to us the details of the plan of action which he had revolving in his mind. he motioned us to follow him: we threaded a way between the tree-trunks, keeping all the while on the very edge of the cliff, so that the space below was all visible to us. when we had got round the curve sufficiently to see the whole of the wood on the valley level, without losing sight of the voivodin and her appointed assassins, we halted under his direction. there was an added advantage of this point over the other, for we could see directly the rising of the hill-road, up which farther side ran the continuation of the mountain path which the marauders had followed. it was somewhere on that path that the other pursuing party had hoped to intercept the fugitives. the gospodar spoke quickly, though in a voice of command which true soldiers love to hear: "brothers, the time has come when we can strike a blow for teuta and the land. do you two, marksmen, take position here facing the wood." the two men here lay down and got their rifles ready. "divide the frontage of the wood between you; arrange between yourselves the limits of your positions. the very instant one of the marauders appears, cover him; drop him before he emerges from the wood. even then still watch and treat similarly whoever else may take his place. do this if they come singly till not a man is left. remember, brothers, that brave hearts alone will not suffice at this grim crisis. in this hour the best safety of the voivodin is in the calm spirit and the steady eye!" then he turned to the rest of us, and spoke to me: "archimandrite of plazac, you who are interpreter to god of the prayers of so many souls, my own hour has come. if i do not return, convey my love to my aunt janet--miss mackelpie, at vissarion. there is but one thing left to us if we wish to save the voivodin. do you, when the time comes, take these men and join the watcher at the top of the ravine road. when the shots are fired, do you out handjar, and rush the ravine and across the valley. brothers, you may be in time to avenge the voivodin, if you cannot save her. for me there must be a quicker way, and to it i go. as there is not, and will not be, time to traverse the path, i must take a quicker way. nature finds me a path that man has made it necessary for me to travel. see that giant beech-tree that towers above the glade where the voivodin is held? there is my path! when you from here have marked the return of the spies, give me a signal with your hat--do not use a handkerchief, as others might see its white, and take warning. then rush that ravine. i shall take that as the signal for my descent by the leafy road. if i can do naught else, i can crush the murderers with my falling weight, even if i have to kill her too. at least we shall die together--and free. lay us together in the tomb at st. sava's. farewell, if it be the last!" he threw down the scabbard in which he carried his handjar, adjusted the naked weapon in his belt behind his back, and was gone! we who were not watching the wood kept our eyes fixed on the great beech-tree, and with new interest noticed the long trailing branches which hung low, and swayed even in the gentle breeze. for a few minutes, which seemed amazingly long, we saw no sign of him. then, high up on one of the great branches which stood clear of obscuring leaves, we saw something crawling flat against the bark. he was well out on the branch, hanging far over the precipice. he was looking over at us, and i waved my hand so that he should know we saw him. he was clad in green--his usual forest dress--so that there was not any likelihood of any other eyes noticing him. i took off my hat, and held it ready to signal with when the time should come. i glanced down at the glade and saw the voivodin standing, still safe, with her guards so close to her as to touch. then i, too, fixed my eyes on the wood. suddenly the man standing beside me seized my arm and pointed. i could just see through the trees, which were lower than elsewhere in the front of the wood, a turk moving stealthily; so i waved my hat. at the same time a rifle underneath me cracked. a second or two later the spy pitched forward on his face and lay still. at the same instant my eyes sought the beech-tree, and i saw the close-lying figure raise itself and slide forward to a joint of the branch. then the gospodar, as he rose, hurled himself forward amid the mass of the trailing branches. he dropped like a stone, and my heart sank. but an instant later he seemed in poise. he had clutched the thin, trailing branches as he fell; and as he sank a number of leaves which his motion had torn off floated out round him. again the rifle below me cracked, and then again, and again, and again. the marauders had taken warning, and were coming out in mass. but my own eyes were fixed on the tree. almost as a thunderbolt falls fell the giant body of the gospodar, his size lost in the immensity of his surroundings. he fell in a series of jerks, as he kept clutching the trailing beech-branches whilst they lasted, and then other lesser verdure growing out from the fissures in the rock after the lengthening branches had with all their elasticity reached their last point. at length--for though this all took place in a very few seconds the gravity of the crisis prolonged them immeasurably--there came a large space of rock some three times his own length. he did not pause, but swung himself to one side, so that he should fall close to the voivodin and her guards. these men did not seem to notice, for their attention was fixed on the wood whence they expected their messenger to signal. but they raised their yataghans in readiness. the shots had alarmed them; and they meant to do the murder now--messenger or no messenger but though the men did not see the danger from above, the voivodin did. she raised her eyes quickly at the first sound, and even from where we were, before we began to run towards the ravine path, i could see the triumphant look in her glorious eyes when she recognized the identity of the man who was seemingly coming straight down from heaven itself to help her--as, indeed, she, and we too, can very well imagine that he did; for if ever heaven had a hand in a rescue on earth, it was now. even during the last drop from the rocky foliage the gospodar kept his head. as he fell he pulled his handjar free, and almost as he was falling its sweep took off the head of one of the assassins. as he touched ground he stumbled for an instant, but it was towards his enemies. twice with lightning rapidity the handjar swept the air, and at each sweep a head rolled on the sward. the voivodin held up her tied hands. again the handjar flashed, this time downwards, and the lady was free. without an instant's pause the gospodar tore off the gag, and with his left arm round her and handjar in right hand, stood face toward his living foes. the voivodin stooped suddenly, and then, raising the yataghan which had fallen from the hand of one of the dead marauders, stood armed beside him. the rifles were now cracking fast, as the marauders--those that were left of them--came rushing out into the open. but well the marksmen knew their work. well they bore in mind the gospodar's command regarding calmness. they kept picking off the foremost men only, so that the onward rush never seemed to get more forward. as we rushed down the ravine we could see clearly all before us. but now, just as we were beginning to fear lest some mischance might allow some of them to reach the glade, there was another cause of surprise--of rejoicing. from the face of the wood seemed to burst all at once a body of men, all wearing the national cap, so we knew them as our own. they were all armed with the handjar only, and they came like tigers. they swept on the rushing turks as though, for all their swiftness, they were standing still--literally wiping them out as a child wipes a lesson from its slate. a few seconds later these were followed by a tall figure with long hair and beard of black mingled with grey. instinctively we all, as did those in the valley, shouted with joy. for this was the vladika milosh plamenac himself. i confess that, knowing what i knew, i was for a short space of time anxious lest, in the terrific excitement in which we were all lapped, someone might say or do something which might make for trouble later on. the gospodar's splendid achievement, which was worthy of any hero of old romance, had set us all on fire. he himself must have been wrought to a high pitch of excitement to dare such an act; and it is not at such a time that discretion must be expected from any man. most of all did i fear danger from the womanhood of the voivodin. had i not assisted at her marriage, i might not have understood then what it must have been to her to be saved from such a doom at such a time by such a man, who was so much to her, and in such a way. it would have been only natural if at such a moment of gratitude and triumph she had proclaimed the secret which we of the council of the nation and her father's commissioners had so religiously kept. but none of us knew then either the voivodin or the gospodar rupert as we do now. it was well that they were as they are, for the jealousy and suspicion of our mountaineers might, even at such a moment, and even whilst they throbbed at such a deed, have so manifested themselves as to have left a legacy of distrust. the vladika and i, who of all (save the two immediately concerned) alone knew, looked at each other apprehensively. but at that instant the voivodin, with a swift glance at her husband, laid a finger on her lip; and he, with quick understanding, gave assurance by a similar sign. then she sank before him on one knee, and, raising his hand to her lips, kissed it, and spoke: "gospodar rupert, i owe you all that a woman may owe, except to god. you have given me life and honour! i cannot thank you adequately for what you have done; my father will try to do so when he returns. but i am right sure that the men of the blue mountains, who so value honour, and freedom, and liberty, and bravery, will hold you in their hearts for ever!" this was so sweetly spoken, with lips that trembled and eyes that swam in tears, so truly womanly and so in accord with the custom of our nation regarding the reverence that women owe to men, that the hearts of our mountaineers were touched to the quick. their noble simplicity found expression in tears. but if the gallant gospodar could have for a moment thought that so to weep was unmanly, his error would have had instant correction. when the voivodin had risen to her feet, which she did with queenly dignity, the men around closed in on the gospodar like a wave of the sea, and in a second held him above their heads, tossing on their lifted hands as if on stormy breakers. it was as though the old vikings of whom we have heard, and whose blood flows in rupert's veins, were choosing a chief in old fashion. i was myself glad that the men were so taken up with the gospodar that they did not see the glory of the moment in the voivodin's starry eyes; for else they might have guessed the secret. i knew from the vladika's look that he shared my own satisfaction, even as he had shared my anxiety. as the gospodar rupert was tossed high on the lifted hands of the mountaineers, their shouts rose to such a sudden volume that around us, as far as i could see, the frightened birds rose from the forest, and their noisy alarm swelled the tumult. the gospodar, ever thoughtful for others, was the first to calm himself. "come, brothers," he said, "let us gain the hilltop, where we can signal to the castle. it is right that the whole nation should share in the glad tidings that the voivodin teuta of vissarion is free. but before we go, let us remove the arms and clothing of these carrion marauders. we may have use for them later on." the mountaineers set him down, gently enough. and he, taking the voivodin by the hand, and calling the vladika and myself close to them, led the way up the ravine path which the marauders had descended, and thence through the forest to the top of the hill that dominated the valley. here we could, from an opening amongst the trees, catch a glimpse far off of the battlements of vissarion. forthwith the gospodar signalled; and on the moment a reply of their awaiting was given. then the gospodar signalled the glad news. it was received with manifest rejoicing. we could not hear any sound so far away, but we could see the movement of lifted faces and waving hands, and knew that it was well. but an instant after came a calm so dread that we knew before the semaphore had begun to work that there was bad news in store for us. when the news did come, a bitter wailing arose amongst us; for the news that was signalled ran: "the voivode has been captured by the turks on his return, and is held by them at ilsin." in an instant the temper of the mountaineers changed. it was as though by a flash summer had changed to winter, as though the yellow glory of the standing corn had been obliterated by the dreary waste of snow. nay, more: it was as when one beholds the track of the whirlwind when the giants of the forest are levelled with the sward. for a few seconds there was silence; and then, with an angry roar, as when god speaks in the thunder, came the fierce determination of the men of the blue mountains: "to ilsin! to ilsin!" and a stampede in the direction of the south began. for, illustrious lady, you, perhaps, who have been for so short a time at vissarion, may not know that at the extreme southern point of the land of the blue mountains lies the little port of ilsin, which long ago we wrested from the turk. the stampede was checked by the command, "halt!" spoken in a thunderous voice by the gospodar. instinctively all stopped. the gospodar rupert spoke again: "had we not better know a little more before we start on our journey? i shall get by semaphore what details are known. do you all proceed in silence and as swiftly as possible. the vladika and i will wait here till we have received the news and have sent some instructions, when we shall follow, and, if we can, overtake you. one thing: be absolutely silent on what has been. be secret of every detail--even as to the rescue of the voivodin--except what i send." without a word--thus showing immeasurable trust--the whole body--not a very large one, it is true--moved on, and the gospodar began signalling. as i was myself expert in the code, i did not require any explanation, but followed question and answer on either side. the first words the gospodar rupert signalled were: "silence, absolute and profound, as to everything which has been." then he asked for details of the capture of the voivode. the answer ran: "he was followed from flushing, and his enemies advised by the spies all along the route. at ragusa quite a number of strangers--travellers seemingly--went on board the packet. when he got out, the strangers debarked too, and evidently followed him, though, as yet, we have no details. he disappeared at ilsin from the hotel reo, whither he had gone. all possible steps are being taken to trace his movements, and strictest silence and secrecy are observed." his answer was: "good! keep silent and secret. am hurrying back. signal request to archbishop and all members of national council to come to gadaar with all speed. there the yacht will meet him. tell rooke take yacht all speed to gadaar; there meet archbishop and council--give him list of names--and return full speed. have ready plenty arms, six flying artillery. two hundred men, provisions three days. silence, silence. all depends on that. all to go on as usual at castle, except to those in secret." when the receipt of his message had been signalled, we three--for, of course, the voivodin was with us; she had refused to leave the gospodar--set out hot-foot after our comrades. but by the time we had descended the hill it was evident that the voivodin could not keep up the terrific pace at which we were going. she struggled heroically, but the long journey she had already taken, and the hardship and anxiety she had suffered, had told on her. the gospodar stopped, and said that it would be better that he should press on--it was, perhaps, her father's life--and said he would carry her. "no, no!" she answered. "go on! i shall follow with the vladika. and then you can have things ready to get on soon after the archbishop and council arrive." they kissed each other after, on her part, a shy glance at me; and he went on the track of our comrades at a great pace. i could see him shortly after catch them up,--though they, too, were going fast. for a few minutes they ran together, he speaking--i could note it from the way they kept turning their heads towards him. then he broke away from them hurriedly. he went like a stag breaking covert, and was soon out of sight. they halted a moment or two. then some few ran on, and all the rest came back towards us. quickly they improvised a litter with cords and branches, and insisted that the voivodin should use it. in an incredibly short time we were under way again, and proceeding with great rapidity towards vissarion. the men took it in turns to help with the litter; i had the honour of taking a hand in the work myself. about a third of the way out from vissarion a number of our people met us. they were fresh, and as they carried the litter, we who were relieved were free for speed. so we soon arrived at the castle. here we found all humming like a hive of bees. the yacht, which captain rooke had kept fired ever since the pursuing party under the gospodar had left vissarion, was already away, and tearing up the coast at a fearful rate. the rifles and ammunition were stacked on the quay. the field-guns, too, were equipped, and the cases of ammunition ready to ship. the men, two hundred of them, were paraded in full kit, ready to start at a moment's notice. the provision for three days was all ready to put aboard, and barrels of fresh water to trundle aboard when the yacht should return. at one end of the quay, ready to lift on board, stood also the gospodar's aeroplane, fully equipped, and ready, if need were, for immediate flight. i was glad to see that the voivodin seemed none the worse for her terrible experience. she still wore her shroud; but no one seemed to notice it as anything strange. the whisper had evidently gone round of what had been. but discretion ruled the day. she and the gospodar met as two who had served and suffered in common; but i was glad to notice that both kept themselves under such control that none of those not already in the secret even suspected that there was any love between them, let alone marriage. we all waited with what patience we could till word was signalled from the castle tower that the yacht had appeared over the northern horizon, and was coming down fast, keeping inshore as she came. when she arrived, we heard to our joy that all concerned had done their work well. the archbishop was aboard, and of the national council not one was missing. the gospodar hurried them all into the great hall of the castle, which had in the meantime been got ready. i, too, went with him, but the voivodin remained without. when all were seated, he rose and said: "my lord archbishop, vladika, and lords of the council all, i have dared to summon you in this way because time presses, and the life of one you all love--the voivode vissarion--is at stake. this audacious attempt of the turk is the old aggression under a new form. it is a new and more daring step than ever to try to capture your chief and his daughter, the voivodin, whom you love. happily, the latter part of the scheme is frustrated. the voivodin is safe and amongst us. but the voivode is held prisoner--if, indeed, he be still alive. he must be somewhere near ilsin--but where exactly we know not as yet. we have an expedition ready to start the moment we receive your sanction--your commands. we shall obey your wishes with our lives. but as the matter is instant, i would venture to ask one question, and one only: 'shall we rescue the voivode at any cost that may present itself?' i ask this, for the matter has now become an international one, and, if our enemies are as earnest as we are, the issue is war!" having so spoken, and with a dignity and force which is inexpressible, he withdrew; and the council, having appointed a scribe--the monk cristoferos, whom i had suggested--began its work. the archbishop spoke: "lords of the council of the blue mountains, i venture to ask you that the answer to the gospodar rupert be an instant 'yes!' together with thanks and honour to that gallant englisher, who has made our cause his own, and who has so valiantly rescued our beloved voivodin from the ruthless hands of our enemies." forthwith the oldest member of the council--nicolos of volok--rose, and, after throwing a searching look round the faces of all, and seeing grave nods of assent--for not a word was spoken--said to him who held the door: "summon the gospodar rupert forthwith!" when rupert entered, he spoke to him: "gospodar rupert, the council of the blue mountains has only one answer to give: proceed! rescue the voivode vissarion, whatever the cost may be! you hold henceforth in your hand the handjar of our nation, as already, for what you have done in your valiant rescue of our beloved voivodin, your breast holds the heart of our people. proceed at once! we give you, i fear, little time; but we know that such is your own wish. later, we shall issue formal authorization, so that if war may ensue, our allies may understand that you have acted for the nation, and also such letters credential as may be required by you in this exceptional service. these shall follow you within an hour. for our enemies we take no account. see, we draw the handjar that we offer you." as one man all in the hall drew their handjars, which flashed as a blaze of lightning. there did not seem to be an instant's delay. the council broke up, and its members, mingling with the people without, took active part in the preparations. not many minutes had elapsed when the yacht, manned and armed and stored as arranged, was rushing out of the creek. on the bridge, beside captain rooke, stood the gospodar rupert and the still-shrouded form of the voivodin teuta. i myself was on the lower deck with the soldiers, explaining to certain of them the special duties which they might be called on to fulfil. i held the list which the gospodar rupert had prepared whilst we were waiting for the yacht to arrive from gadaar. petrof vlastimir. from rupert's journal--_continued_. _july_ , . we went at a terrific pace down the coast, keeping well inshore so as to avoid, if possible, being seen from the south. just north of ilsin a rocky headland juts out, and that was our cover. on the north of the peninsula is a small land-locked bay, with deep water. it is large enough to take the yacht, though a much larger vessel could not safely enter. we ran in, and anchored close to the shore, which has a rocky frontage--a natural shelf of rock, which is practically the same as a quay. here we met the men who had come from ilsin and the neighbourhood in answer to our signalling earlier in the day. they gave us the latest information regarding the kidnapping of the voivode, and informed us that every man in that section of the country was simply aflame about it. they assured us that we could rely on them, not merely to fight to the death, but to keep silence absolutely. whilst the seamen, under the direction of rooke, took the aeroplane on shore and found a suitable place for it, where it was hidden from casual view, but from which it could be easily launched, the vladika and i--and, of course, my wife--were hearing such details as were known of the disappearance of her father. it seems that he travelled secretly in order to avoid just such a possibility as has happened. no one knew of his coming till he came to fiume, whence he sent a guarded message to the archbishop, which the latter alone would understand. but this turkish agents were evidently on his track all the time, and doubtless the bureau of spies was kept well advised. he landed at ilsin from a coasting steamer from ragusa to the levant. for two days before his coming there had been quite an unusual number of arrivals at the little port, at which arrivals are rare. and it turned out that the little hotel--the only fairly good one in ilsin--was almost filled up. indeed, only one room was left, which the voivode took for the night. the innkeeper did not know the voivode in his disguise, but suspected who it was from the description. he dined quietly, and went to bed. his room was at the back, on the ground-floor, looking out on the bank of the little river silva, which here runs into the harbour. no disturbance was heard in the night. late in the morning, when the elderly stranger had not made his appearance, inquiry was made at his door. he did not answer, so presently the landlord forced the door, and found the room empty. his luggage was seemingly intact, only the clothes which he had worn were gone. a strange thing was that, though the bed had been slept in and his clothes were gone, his night-clothes were not to be found, from which it was argued by the local authorities, when they came to make inquiry, that he had gone or been taken from the room in his night-gear, and that his clothes had been taken with him. there was evidently some grim suspicion on the part of the authorities, for they had commanded absolute silence on all in the house. when they came to make inquiry as to the other guests, it was found that one and all had gone in the course of the morning, after paying their bills. none of them had any heavy luggage, and there was nothing remaining by which they might be traced or which would afford any clue to their identity. the authorities, having sent a confidential report to the seat of government, continued their inquiries, and even now all available hands were at work on the investigation. when i had signalled to vissarion, before my arrival there, word had been sent through the priesthood to enlist in the investigation the services of all good men, so that every foot of ground in that section of the blue mountains was being investigated. the port-master was assured by his watchmen that no vessel, large or small, had heft the harbour during the night. the inference, therefore, was that the voivode's captors had made inland with him--if, indeed, they were not already secreted in or near the town. whilst we were receiving the various reports, a hurried message came that it was now believed that the whole party were in the silent tower. this was a well-chosen place for such an enterprise. it was a massive tower of immense strength, built as a memorial--and also as a "keep"--after one of the massacres of the invading turks. it stood on the summit of a rocky knoll some ten miles inland from the port of ilsin. it was a place shunned as a rule, and the country all around it was so arid and desolate that there were no residents near it. as it was kept for state use, and might be serviceable in time of war, it was closed with massive iron doors, which were kept locked except upon certain occasions. the keys were at the seat of government at plazac. if, therefore, it had been possible to the turkish marauders to gain entrance and exit, it might be a difficult as well as a dangerous task to try to cut the voivode out. his presence with them was a dangerous menace to any force attacking them, for they would hold his life as a threat. i consulted with the vladika at once as to what was best to be done. and we decided that, though we should put a cordon of guards around it at a safe distance to prevent them receiving warning, we should at present make no attack. we made further inquiry as to whether there had been any vessel seen in the neighbourhood during the past few days, and were informed that once or twice a warship had been seen on the near side of the southern horizon. this was evidently the ship which rooke had seen on his rush down the coast after the abduction of the voivodin, and which he had identified as a turkish vessel. the glimpses of her which had been had were all in full daylight--there was no proof that she had not stolen up during the night-time without lights. but the vladika and i were satisfied that the turkish vessel was watching--was in league with both parties of marauders--and was intended to take off any of the strangers, or their prey, who might reach ilsin undetected. it was evidently with this view that the kidnappers of teuta had, in the first instance, made with all speed for the south. it was only when disappointed there that they headed up north, seeking in desperation for some chance of crossing the border. that ring of steel had so far well served its purpose. i sent for rooke, and put the matter before him. he had thought it out for himself to the same end as we had. his deduction was: "let us keep the cordon, and watch for any signal from the silent tower. the turks will tire before we shall. i undertake to watch the turkish warship. during the night i shall run down south, without lights, and have a look at her, even if i have to wait till the grey of the dawn to do so. she may see us; but if she does i shall crawl away at such pace that she shall not get any idea of our speed. she will certainly come nearer before a day is over, for be sure the bureau of spies is kept advised, and they know that when the country is awake each day increases the hazard of them and their plans being discovered. from their caution i gather that they do not court discovery; and from that that they do not wish for an open declaration of war. if this be so, why should we not come out to them and force an issue if need be?" when teuta and i got a chance to be alone, we discussed the situation in every phase. the poor girl was in a dreadful state of anxiety regarding her father's safety. at first she was hardly able to speak, or even to think, coherently. her utterance was choked, and her reasoning palsied with indignation. but presently the fighting blood of her race restored her faculties, and then her woman's quick wit was worth the reasoning of a camp full of men. seeing that she was all on fire with the subject, i sat still and waited, taking care not to interrupt her. for quite a long time she sat still, whilst the coming night thickened. when she spoke, the whole plan of action, based on subtle thinking, had mapped itself out in her mind: "we must act quickly. every hour increases the risk to my father." here her voice broke for an instant; but she recovered herself and went on: "if you go to the ship, i must not go with you. it would not do for me to be seen. the captain doubtless knows of both attempts: that to carry me off as well as that against my father. as yet he is in ignorance of what has happened. you and your party of brave, loyal men did their work so well that no news could go forth. so long, therefore, as the naval captain is ignorant, he must delay till the last. but if he saw me he would know that _that_ branch of the venture had miscarried. he would gather from our being here that we had news of my father's capture, and as he would know that the marauders would fail unless they were relieved by force, he would order the captive to be slain." "yes, dear, to-morrow you had, perhaps, better see the captain, but to-night we must try to rescue my father. here i think i see a way. you have your aeroplane. please take me with you into the silent tower." "not for a world of chrysolite!" said i, horrified. she took my hand and held it tight whilst she went on: "dear, i know, i know! be satisfied. but it is the only way. you can, i know, get there, and in the dark. but if you were to go in it, it would give warning to the enemies, and besides, my father would not understand. remember, he does not know you; he has never seen you, and does not, i suppose, even know as yet of your existence. but he would know me at once, and in any dress. you can manage to lower me into the tower by a rope from the aeroplane. the turks as yet do not know of our pursuit, and doubtless rely, at all events in part, on the strength and security of the tower. therefore their guard will be less active than it would at first or later on. i shall post father in all details, and we shall be ready quickly. now, dear, let us think out the scheme together. let your man's wit and experience help my ignorance, and we shall save my father!" how could i have resisted such pleading--even had it not seemed wise? but wise it was; and i, who knew what the aeroplane could do under my own guidance, saw at once the practicalities of the scheme. of course there was a dreadful risk in case anything should go wrong. but we are at present living in a world of risks--and her father's life was at stake. so i took my dear wife in my arms, and told her that my mind was hers for this, as my soul and body already were. and i cheered her by saying that i thought it might be done. i sent for rooke, and told him of the new adventure, and he quite agreed with me in the wisdom of it. i then told him that he would have to go and interview the captain of the turkish warship in the morning, if i did not turn up. "i am going to see the vladika," i said. "he will lead our own troops in the attack on the silent tower. but it will rest with you to deal with the warship. ask the captain to whom or what nation the ship belongs. he is sure to refuse to tell. in such case mention to him that if he flies no nation's flag, his vessel is a pirate ship, and that you, who are in command of the navy of the blue mountains, will deal with him as a pirate is dealt with--no quarter, no mercy. he will temporize, and perhaps try a bluff; but when things get serious with him he will land a force, or try to, and may even prepare to shell the town. he will threaten to, at any rate. in such case deal with him as you think best, or as near to it as you can." he answered: "i shall carry out your wishes with my life. it is a righteous task. not that anything of that sort would ever stand in my way. if he attacks our nation, either as a turk or a pirate, i shall wipe him out. we shall see what our own little packet can do. moreover, any of the marauders who have entered the blue mountains, from sea or otherwise, shall never get out by sea! i take it that we of my contingent shall cover the attacking party. it will be a sorry time for us all if that happens without our seeing you and the voivodin; for in such case we shall understand the worst!" iron as he was, the man trembled. "that is so, rooke," i said. "we are taking a desperate chance, we know. but the case is desperate! but we all have our duty to do, whatever happens. ours and yours is stern; but when we have done it, the result will be that life will be easier for others--for those that are left." before he left, i asked him to send up to me three suits of the masterman bullet-proof clothes of which we had a supply on the yacht. "two are for the voivodin and myself," i said; "the third is for the voivode to put on. the voivodin will take it with her when she descends from the aeroplane into the tower." whilst any daylight was left i went out to survey the ground. my wife wanted to come with me, but i would not let her. "no," said i; "you will have at the best a fearful tax on your strength and your nerves. you will want to be as fresh as is possible when you get on the aeroplane." like a good wife, she obeyed, and lay down to rest in the little tent provided for her. i took with me a local man who knew the ground, and who was trusted to be silent. we made a long detour when we had got as near the silent tower as we could without being noticed. i made notes from my compass as to directions, and took good notice of anything that could possibly serve as a landmark. by the time we got home i was pretty well satisfied that if all should go well i could easily sail over the tower in the dark. then i had a talk with my wife, and gave her full instructions: "when we arrive over the tower," i said, "i shall lower you with a long rope. you will have a parcel of food and spirit for your father in case he is fatigued or faint; and, of course, the bullet-proof suit, which he must put on at once. you will also have a short rope with a belt at either end--one for your father, the other for you. when i turn the aeroplane and come back again, you will have ready the ring which lies midway between the belts. this you will catch into the hook at the end of the lowered rope. when all is secure, and i have pulled you both up by the windlass so as to clear the top, i shall throw out ballast which we shall carry on purpose, and away we go! i am sorry it must be so uncomfortable for you both, but there is no other way. when we get well clear of the tower, i shall take you both up on the platform. if necessary, i shall descend to do it--and then we shall steer for ilsin." "when all is safe, our men will attack the tower. we must let them do it, for they expect it. a few men in the clothes and arms which we took from your captors will be pursued by some of ours. it is all arranged. they will ask the turks to admit them, and if the latter have not learned of your father's escape, perhaps they will do so. once in, our men will try to open the gate. the chances are against them, poor fellows! but they are all volunteers, and will die fighting. if they win out, great glory will be theirs." "the moon does not rise to-night till just before midnight, so we have plenty of time. we shall start from here at ten. if all be well, i shall place you in the tower with your father in less than a quarter-hour from that. a few minutes will suffice to clothe him in bullet-proof and get on his belt. i shall not be away from the tower more than a very few minutes, and, please god, long before eleven we shall be safe. then the tower can be won in an attack by our mountaineers. perhaps, when the guns are heard on the ship of war--for there is sure to be firing--the captain may try to land a shore party. but rooke will stand in the way, and if i know the man and _the lady_, we shall not be troubled with many turks to-night. by midnight you and your father can be on the way to vissarion. i can interview the naval captain in the morning." my wife's marvellous courage and self-possession stood to her. at half an hour before the time fixed she was ready for our adventure. she had improved the scheme in one detail. she had put on her own belt and coiled the rope round her waist, so the only delay would be in bringing her father's belt. she would keep the bullet-proof dress intended to be his strapped in a packet on her back, so that if occasion should be favourable he would not want to put it on till he and she should have reached the platform of the aeroplane. in such case, i should not steer away from the tower at all, but would pass slowly across it and take up the captive and his brave daughter before leaving. i had learned from local sources that the tower was in several stories. entrance was by the foot, where the great iron-clad door was; then came living-rooms and storage, and an open space at the top. this would probably be thought the best place for the prisoner, for it was deep-sunk within the massive walls, wherein was no loophole of any kind. this, if it should so happen, would be the disposition of things best for our plan. the guards would at this time be all inside the tower--probably resting, most of them--so that it was possible that no one might notice the coming of the airship. i was afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in such case our task would be a simple enough one, and would in all human probability be crowned with success. at ten o'clock we started. teuta did not show the smallest sign of fear or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had even seen an aeroplane at work. she proved to be an admirable passenger for an airship. she stayed quite still, holding herself rigidly in the position arranged, by the cords which i had fixed for her. when i had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit by the tiny my electric light in the dark box, i had time to look about me. all seemed quite dark wherever i looked--to land, or sea, or sky. but darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot looked dark in turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole. i could tell the difference, for instance, between land and sea, no matter how far off we might be from either. looking upward, the sky was dark; yet there was light enough to see, and even distinguish broad effects. i had no difficulty in distinguishing the tower towards which we were moving, and that, after all, was the main thing. we drifted slowly, very slowly, as the air was still, and i only used the minimum pressure necessary for the engine. i think i now understood for the first time the extraordinary value of the engine with which my kitson was equipped. it was noiseless, it was practically of no weight, and it allowed the machine to progress as easily as the old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze. teuta, who had naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better than i did, for as we drew nearer to the tower, and its round, open top began to articulate itself, she commenced to prepare for her part of the task. she it was who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for her lowering. we were proceeding so gently that she as well as i had hopes that i might be able to actually balance the machine on the top of the curving wall--a thing manifestly impossible on a straight surface, though it might have been possible on an angle. on we crept--on, and on! there was no sign of light about the tower, and not the faintest sound to be heard till we were almost close to the line of the rising wall; then we heard a sound of something like mirth, but muffled by distance and thick walls. from it we took fresh heart, for it told us that our enemies were gathered in the lower chambers. if only the voivode should be on the upper stage, all would be well. slowly, almost inch by inch, and with a suspense that was agonizing, we crossed some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wall. i could see as we came near the jagged line of white patches where the heads of the massacred turks placed there on spikes in old days seemed to give still their grim warning. seeing that they made in themselves a difficulty of landing on the wall, i deflected the plane so that, as we crept over the wall, we might, if they became displaced, brush them to the outside of the wall. a few seconds more, and i was able to bring the machine to rest with the front of the platform jutting out beyond the tower wall. here i anchored her fore and aft with clamps which had been already prepared. whilst i was doing so teuta had leaned over the inner edge of the platform, and whispered as softly as the sigh of a gentle breeze: "hist! hist!" the answer came in a similar sound from some twenty feet below us, and we knew that the prisoner was alone. forthwith, having fixed the hook of the rope in the ring to which was attached her belt, i lowered my wife. her father evidently knew her whisper, and was ready. the hollow tower--a smooth cylinder within--sent up the voices from it faint as were the whispers: "father, it is i--teuta!" "my child, my brave daughter!" "quick, father; strap the belt round you. see that it is secure. we have to be lifted into the air if necessary. hold together. it will be easier for rupert to lift us to the airship." "rupert?" "yes; i shall explain later. quick, quick! there is not a moment to lose. he is enormously strong, and can lift us together; but we must help him by being still, so he won't have to use the windlass, which might creak." as she spoke she jerked slightly at the rope, which was our preconcerted signal that i was to lift. i was afraid the windlass might creak, and her thoughtful hint decided me. i bent my back to the task, and in a few seconds they were on the platform on which they, at teuta's suggestion, lay flat, one at each side of my seat, so as to keep the best balance possible. i took off the clamps, lifted the bags of ballast to the top of the wall, so that there should be no sound of falling, and started the engine. the machine moved forward a few inches, so that it tilted towards the outside of the wall. i threw my weight on the front part of the platform, and we commenced our downward fall at a sharp angle. a second enlarged the angle, and without further ado we slid away into the darkness. then, ascending as we went, when the engine began to work at its strength, we turned, and presently made straight for ilsin. the journey was short--not many minutes. it almost seemed as if no time whatever had elapsed till we saw below us the gleam of lights, and by them saw a great body of men gathered in military array. we slackened and descended. the crowd kept deathly silence, but when we were amongst them we needed no telling that it was not due to lack of heart or absence of joy. the pressure of their hands as they surrounded us, and the devotion with which they kissed the hands and feet of both the voivode and his daughter, were evidence enough for me, even had i not had my own share of their grateful rejoicing. in the midst of it all the low, stern voice of rooke, who had burst a way to the front beside the vladika, said: "now is the time to attack the tower. forward, brothers, but in silence. let there not be a sound till you are near the gate; then play your little comedy of the escaping marauders. and 'twill be no comedy for them in the tower. the yacht is all ready for the morning, mr. sent leger, in case i do not come out of the scrimmage if the bluejackets arrive. in such case you will have to handle her yourself. god keep you, my lady; and you, too, voivode! forward!" in a ghostly silence the grim little army moved forwards. rooke and the men with him disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the harbour of ilsin. from the script of the voivode, peter vissarion, _july_ , . i had little idea, when i started on my homeward journey, that it would have such a strange termination. even i, who ever since my boyhood have lived in a whirl of adventure, intrigue, or diplomacy--whichever it may be called--statecraft, and war, had reason to be surprised. i certainly thought that when i locked myself into my room in the hotel at ilsin that i would have at last a spell, however short, of quiet. all the time of my prolonged negotiations with the various nationalities i had to be at tension; so, too, on my homeward journey, lest something at the last moment should happen adversely to my mission. but when i was safe on my own land of the blue mountains, and laid my head on my pillow, where only friends could be around me, i thought i might forget care. but to wake with a rude hand over my mouth, and to feel myself grasped tight by so many hands that i could not move a limb, was a dreadful shock. all after that was like a dreadful dream. i was rolled in a great rug so tightly that i could hardly breathe, let alone cry out. lifted by many hands through the window, which i could hear was softly opened and shut for the purpose, and carried to a boat. again lifted into some sort of litter, on which i was borne a long distance, but with considerable rapidity. again lifted out and dragged through a doorway opened on purpose--i could hear the clang as it was shut behind me. then the rug was removed, and i found myself, still in my night-gear, in the midst of a ring of men. there were two score of them, all turks, all strong-looking, resolute men, armed to the teeth. my clothes, which had been taken from my room, were thrown down beside me, and i was told to dress. as the turks were going from the room--shaped like a vault--where we then were, the last of them, who seemed to be some sort of officer, said: "if you cry out or make any noise whatever whilst you are in this tower, you shall die before your time!" presently some food and water were brought me, and a couple of blankets. i wrapped myself up and slept till early in the morning. breakfast was brought, and the same men filed in. in the presence of them all the same officer said: "i have given instructions that if you make any noise or betray your presence to anyone outside this tower, the nearest man is to restore you to immediate quiet with his yataghan. it you promise me that you will remain quiet whilst you are within the tower, i can enlarge your liberties somewhat. do you promise?" i promised as he wished; there was no need to make necessary any stricter measure of confinement. any chance of escape lay in having the utmost freedom allowed to me. although i had been taken away with such secrecy, i knew that before long there would be pursuit. so i waited with what patience i could. i was allowed to go on the upper platform--a consideration due, i am convinced, to my captors' wish for their own comfort rather than for mine. it was not very cheering, for during the daytime i had satisfied myself that it would be quite impossible for even a younger and more active man than i am to climb the walls. they were built for prison purposes, and a cat could not find entry for its claws between the stones. i resigned myself to my fate as well as i could. wrapping my blanket round me, i lay down and looked up at the sky. i wished to see it whilst i could. i was just dropping to sleep--the unutterable silence of the place broken only now and again by some remark by my captors in the rooms below me--when there was a strange appearance just over me--an appearance so strange that i sat up, and gazed with distended eyes. across the top of the tower, some height above, drifted, slowly and silently, a great platform. although the night was dark, it was so much darker where i was within the hollow of the tower that i could actually see what was above me. i knew it was an aeroplane--one of which i had seen in washington. a man was seated in the centre, steering; and beside him was a silent figure of a woman all wrapped in white. it made my heart beat to see her, for she was figured something like my teuta, but broader, less shapely. she leaned over, and a whispered "ssh!" crept down to me. i answered in similar way. whereupon she rose, and the man lowered her down into the tower. then i saw that it was my dear daughter who had come in this wonderful way to save me. with infinite haste she helped me to fasten round my waist a belt attached to a rope, which was coiled round her; and then the man, who was a giant in strength as well as stature, raised us both to the platform of the aeroplane, which he set in motion without an instant's delay. within a few seconds, and without any discovery being made of my escape, we were speeding towards the sea. the lights of ilsin were in front of us. before reaching the town, however, we descended in the midst of a little army of my own people, who were gathered ready to advance upon the silent tower, there to effect, if necessary, my rescue by force. small chance would there have been of my life in case of such a struggle. happily, however, the devotion and courage of my dear daughter and of her gallant companion prevented such a necessity. it was strange to me to find such joyous reception amongst my friends expressed in such a whispered silence. there was no time for comment or understanding or the asking of questions--i was fain to take things as they stood, and wait for fuller explanation. this came later, when my daughter and i were able to converse alone. when the expedition went out against the silent tower, teuta and i went to her tent, and with us came her gigantic companion, who seemed not wearied, but almost overcome with sleep. when we came into the tent, over which at a little distance a cordon of our mountaineers stood on guard, he said to me: "may i ask you, sir, to pardon me for a time, and allow the voivodin to explain matters to you? she will, i know, so far assist me, for there is so much work still to be done before we are free of the present peril. for myself, i am almost overcome with sleep. for three nights i have had no sleep, but all during that time much labour and more anxiety. i could hold on longer; but at daybreak i must go out to the turkish warship that lies in the offing. she is a turk, though she does not confess to it; and she it is who has brought hither the marauders who captured both your daughter and yourself. it is needful that i go, for i hold a personal authority from the national council to take whatever step may be necessary for our protection. and when i go i should be clear-headed, for war may rest on that meeting. i shall be in the adjoining tent, and shall come at once if i am summoned, in case you wish for me before dawn." here my daughter struck in: "father, ask him to remain here. we shall not disturb him, i am sure, in our talking. and, moreover, if you knew how much i owe to him--to his own bravery and his strength--you would understand how much safer i feel when he is close to me, though we are surrounded by an army of our brave mountaineers." "but, my daughter," i said, for i was as yet all in ignorance, "there are confidences between father and daughter which none other may share. some of what has been i know, but i want to know all, and it might be better that no stranger--however valiant he may be, or no matter in what measure we are bound to him--should be present." to my astonishment, she who had always been amenable to my lightest wish actually argued with me: "father, there are other confidences which have to be respected in like wise. bear with me, dear, till i have told you all, and i am right sure that you will agree with me. i ask it, father." that settled the matter, and as i could see that the gallant gentleman who had rescued me was swaying on his feet as he waited respectfully, i said to him: "rest with us, sir. we shall watch over your sleep." then i had to help him, for almost on the instant he sank down, and i had to guide him to the rugs spread on the ground. in a few seconds he was in a deep sleep. as i stood looking at him, till i had realized that he vas really asleep, i could not help marvelling at the bounty of nature that could uphold even such a man as this to the last moment of work to be done, and then allow so swift a collapse when all was over, and he could rest peacefully. he was certainly a splendid fellow. i think i never saw so fine a man physically in my life. and if the lesson of his physiognomy be true, he is as sterling inwardly as his external is fair. "now," said i to teuta, "we are to all intents quite alone. tell me all that has been, so that i may understand." whereupon my daughter, making me sit down, knelt beside me, and told me from end to end the most marvellous story i had ever heard or read of. something of it i had already known from the archbishop paleologue's later letters, but of all else i was ignorant. far away in the great west beyond the atlantic, and again on the fringe of the eastern seas, i had been thrilled to my heart's core by the heroic devotion and fortitude of my daughter in yielding herself for her country's sake to that fearful ordeal of the crypt; of the grief of the nation at her reported death, news of which was so mercifully and wisely withheld from me as long as possible; of the supernatural rumours that took root so deep; but no word or hint had come to me of a man who had come across the orbit of her life, much less of all that has resulted from it. neither had i known of her being carried off, or of the thrice gallant rescue of her by rupert. little wonder that i thought so highly of him even at the first moment i had a clear view of him when he sank down to sleep before me. why, the man must be a marvel. even our mountaineers could not match such endurance as his. in the course of her narrative my daughter told me of how, being wearied with her long waiting in the tomb, and waking to find herself alone when the floods were out, and even the crypt submerged, she sought safety and warmth elsewhere; and how she came to the castle in the night, and found the strange man alone. i said: "that was dangerous, daughter, if not wrong. the man, brave and devoted as he is, must answer me--your father." at that she was greatly upset, and before going on with her narrative, drew me close in her arms, and whispered to me: "be gentle to me, father, for i have had much to bear. and be good to him, for he holds my heart in his breast!" i reassured her with a gentle pressure--there was no need to speak. she then went on to tell me about her marriage, and how her husband, who had fallen into the belief that she was a vampire, had determined to give even his soul for her; and how she had on the night of the marriage left him and gone back to the tomb to play to the end the grim comedy which she had undertaken to perform till my return; and how, on the second night after her marriage, as she was in the garden of the castle--going, as she shyly told me, to see if all was well with her husband--she was seized secretly, muffled up, bound, and carried off. here she made a pause and a digression. evidently some fear lest her husband and myself should quarrel assailed her, for she said: "do understand, father, that rupert's marriage to me was in all ways regular, and quite in accord with our customs. before we were married i told the archbishop of my wish. he, as your representative during your absence, consented himself, and brought the matter to the notice of the vladika and the archimandrites. all these concurred, having exacted from me--very properly, i think--a sacred promise to adhere to my self-appointed task. the marriage itself was orthodox in all ways--though so far unusual that it was held at night, and in darkness, save for the lights appointed by the ritual. as to that, the archbishop himself, or the archimandrite of spazac, who assisted him, or the vladika, who acted as paranymph, will, all or any of them, give you full details. your representative made all inquiries as to rupert sent leger, who lived in vissarion, though he did not know who i was, or from his point of view who i had been. but i must tell you of my rescue." and so she went on to tell me of that unavailing journey south by her captors; of their bafflement by the cordon which rupert had established at the first word of danger to "the daughter of our leader," though he little knew who the "leader" was, or who was his "daughter"; of how the brutal marauders tortured her to speed with their daggers; and how her wounds left blood-marks on the ground as she passed along; then of the halt in the valley, when the marauders came to know that their road north was menaced, if not already blocked; of the choosing of the murderers, and their keeping ward over her whilst their companions went to survey the situation; and of her gallant rescue by that noble fellow, her husband--my son i shall call him henceforth, and thank god that i may have that happiness and that honour! then my daughter went on to tell me of the race back to vissarion, when rupert went ahead of all--as a leader should do; of the summoning of the archbishop and the national council; and of their placing the nation's handjar in rupert's hand; of the journey to ilsin, and the flight of my daughter--and my son--on the aeroplane. the rest i knew. as she finished, the sleeping man stirred and woke--broad awake in a second--sure sign of a man accustomed to campaign and adventure. at a glance he recalled everything that had been, and sprang to his feet. he stood respectfully before me for a few seconds before speaking. then he said, with an open, engaging smile: "i see, sir, you know all. am i forgiven--for teuta's sake as well as my own?" by this time i was also on my feet. a man like that walks straight into my heart. my daughter, too, had risen, and stood by my side. i put out my hand and grasped his, which seemed to leap to meet me--as only the hand of a swordsman can do. "i am glad you are my son!" i said. it was all i could say, and i meant it and all it implied. we shook hands warmly. teuta was pleased; she kissed me, and then stood holding my arm with one hand, whilst she linked her other hand in the arm of her husband. he summoned one of the sentries without, and told him to ask captain rooke to come to him. the latter had been ready for a call, and came at once. when through the open flap of the tent we saw him coming, rupert--as i must call him now, because teuta wishes it; and i like to do it myself--said: "i must be off to board the turkish vessel before it comes inshore. good-bye, sir, in case we do not meet again." he said the last few words in so low a voice that i only could hear them. then he kissed his wife, and told her he expected to be back in time for breakfast, and was gone. he met rooke--i am hardly accustomed to call him captain as yet, though, indeed, he well deserves it--at the edge of the cordon of sentries, and they went quickly together towards the port, where the yacht was lying with steam up. book vii: the empire of the air from the report of cristoferos, war-scribe to the national council. _july_ , . when the gospodar rupert and captain rooke came within hailing distance of the strange ship, the former hailed her, using one after another the languages of england, germany, france, russia, turkey, greece, spain, portugal, and another which i did not know; i think it must have been american. by this time the whole line of the bulwark was covered by a row of turkish faces. when, in turkish, the gospodar asked for the captain, the latter came to the gangway, which had been opened, and stood there. his uniform was that of the turkish navy--of that i am prepared to swear--but he made signs of not understanding what had been said; whereupon the gospodar spoke again, but in french this time. i append the exact conversation which took place, none other joining in it. i took down in shorthand the words of both as they were spoken: the gospodar. "are you the captain of this ship?" the captain. "i am." gospodar. "to what nationality do you belong?" captain. "it matters not. i am captain of this ship." gospodar. "i alluded to your ship. what national flag is she under?" captain (_throwing his eye over the top-hamper_). "i do not see that any flag is flying." gospodar. "i take it that, as commander, you can allow me on board with my two companions?" captain. "i can, upon proper request being made!" gospodar (_taking off his cap_). "i ask your courtesy, captain. i am the representative and accredited officer of the national council of the land of the blue mountains, in whose waters you now are; and on their account i ask for a formal interview on urgent matters." the turk, who was, i am bound to say, in manner most courteous as yet, gave some command to his officers, whereupon the companion-ladders and stage were lowered and the gangway manned, as is usual for the reception on a ship of war of an honoured guest. captain. "you are welcome, sir--you and your two companions--as you request." the gospodar bowed. our companion-ladder was rigged on the instant, and a launch lowered. the gospodar and captain rooke--taking me with them--entered, and rowed to the warship, where we were all honourably received. there were an immense number of men on board, soldiers as well as seamen. it looked more like a warlike expedition than a fighting-ship in time of peace. as we stepped on the deck, the seamen and marines, who were all armed as at drill, presented arms. the gospodar went first towards the captain, and captain rooke and i followed close behind him. the gospodar spoke: "i am rupert sent leger, a subject of his britannic majesty, presently residing at vissarion, in the land of the blue mountains. i am at present empowered to act for the national council in all matters. here is my credential!" as he spoke he handed to the captain a letter. it was written in five different languages--balkan, turkish, greek, english, and french. the captain read it carefully all through, forgetful for the moment that he had seemingly been unable to understand the gospodar's question spoken in the turkish tongue. then he answered: "i see the document is complete. may i ask on what subject you wish to see me?" gospodar. "you are here in a ship of war in blue mountain waters, yet you fly no flag of any nation. you have sent armed men ashore in your boats, thus committing an act of war. the national council of the land of the blue mountains requires to know what nation you serve, and why the obligations of international law are thus broken." the captain seemed to wait for further speech, but the gospodar remained silent; whereupon the former spoke. captain. "i am responsible to my own--chiefs. i refuse to answer your question." the gospodar spoke at once in reply. gospodar. "then, sir, you, as commander of a ship--and especially a ship of war--must know that in thus violating national and maritime laws you, and all on board this ship, are guilty of an act of piracy. this is not even piracy on the high seas. you are not merely within territorial waters, but you have invaded a national port. as you refuse to disclose the nationality of your ship, i accept, as you seem to do, your status as that of a pirate, and shall in due season act accordingly." captain (_with manifest hostility_). "i accept the responsibility of my own acts. without admitting your contention, i tell you now that whatever action you take shall be at your own peril and that of your national council. moreover, i have reason to believe that my men who were sent ashore on special service have been beleaguered in a tower which can be seen from the ship. before dawn this morning firing was heard from that direction, from which i gather that attack was made on them. they, being only a small party, may have been murdered. if such be so, i tell you that you and your miserable little nation, as you call it, shall pay such blood-money as you never thought of. i am responsible for this, and, by allah! there shall be a great revenge. you have not in all your navy--if navy you have at all--power to cope with even one ship like this, which is but one of many. my guns shall be trained on ilsin, to which end i have come inshore. you and your companions have free conduct back to port; such is due to the white flag which you fly. fifteen minutes will bring you back whence you came. go! and remember that whatever you may do amongst your mountain defiles, at sea you cannot even defend yourselves." gospodar (_slowly and in a ringing voice_). "the land of the blue mountains has its own defences on sea and land. its people know how to defend themselves." captain (_taking out his watch_). "it is now close on five bells. at the first stroke of six bells our guns shall open fire." gospodar (_calmly_). "it is my last duty to warn you, sir--and to warn all on this ship--that much may happen before even the first stroke of six bells. be warned in time, and give over this piratical attack, the very threat of which may be the cause of much bloodshed." captain (_violently_). "do you dare to threaten me, and, moreover, my ship's company? we are one, i tell you, in this ship; and the last man shall perish like the first ere this enterprise fail. go!" with a bow, the gospodar turned and went down the ladder, we following him. in a couple of minutes the yacht was on her way to the port. from rupert's journal. _july_ , . when we turned shoreward after my stormy interview with the pirate captain--i can call him nothing else at present, rooke gave orders to a quartermaster on the bridge, and _the lady_ began to make to a little northward of ilsin port. rooke himself went aft to the wheel-house, taking several men with him. when we were quite near the rocks--the water is so deep here that there is no danger--we slowed down, merely drifting along southwards towards the port. i was myself on the bridge, and could see all over the decks. i could also see preparations going on upon the warship. ports were opened, and the great guns on the turrets were lowered for action. when we were starboard broadside on to the warship, i saw the port side of the steering-house open, and rooke's men sliding out what looked like a huge grey crab, which by tackle from within the wheel-house was lowered softly into the sea. the position of the yacht hid the operation from sight of the warship. the doors were shut again, and the yacht's pace began to quicken. we ran into the port. i had a vague idea that rooke had some desperate project on hand. not for nothing had he kept the wheel-house locked on that mysterious crab. all along the frontage was a great crowd of eager men. but they had considerately left the little mole at the southern entrance, whereon was a little tower, on whose round top a signal-gun was placed, free for my own use. when i was landed on this pier i went along to the end, and, climbing the narrow stair within, went out on the sloping roof. i stood up, for i was determined to show the turks that i was not afraid for myself, as they would understand when the bombardment should begin. it was now but a very few minutes before the fatal hour--six bells. but all the same i was almost in a state of despair. it was terrible to think of all those poor souls in the town who had done nothing wrong, and who were to be wiped out in the coming blood-thirsty, wanton attack. i raised my glasses to see how preparations were going on upon the warship. as i looked i had a momentary fear that my eyesight was giving way. at one moment i had the deck of the warship focussed with my glasses, and could see every detail as the gunners waited for the word to begin the bombardment with the great guns of the barbettes. the next i saw nothing but the empty sea. then in another instant there was the ship as before, but the details were blurred. i steadied myself against the signal-gun, and looked again. not more than two, or at the most three, seconds had elapsed. the ship was, for the moment, full in view. as i looked, she gave a queer kind of quick shiver, prow and stern, and then sideways. it was for all the world like a rat shaken in the mouth of a skilled terrier. then she remained still, the one placid thing to be seen, for all around her the sea seemed to shiver in little independent eddies, as when water is broken without a current to guide it. i continued to look, and when the deck was, or seemed, quite still--for the shivering water round the ship kept catching my eyes through the outer rays of the lenses--i noticed that nothing was stirring. the men who had been at the guns were all lying down; the men in the fighting-tops had leaned forward or backward, and their arms hung down helplessly. everywhere was desolation--in so far as life was concerned. even a little brown bear, which had been seated on the cannon which was being put into range position, had jumped or fallen on deck, and lay there stretched out--and still. it was evident that some terrible shock had been given to the mighty war-vessel. without a doubt or a thought why i did so, i turned my eyes towards where _the lady_ lay, port broadside now to the inside, in the harbour mouth. i had the key now to the mystery of rooke's proceedings with the great grey crab. as i looked i saw just outside the harbour a thin line of cleaving water. this became more marked each instant, till a steel disc with glass eyes that shone in the light of the sun rose above the water. it was about the size of a beehive, and was shaped like one. it made a straight line for the aft of the yacht. at the same moment, in obedience to some command, given so quietly that i did not hear it, the men went below--all save some few, who began to open out doors in the port side of the wheel-house. the tackle was run out through an opened gangway on that side, and a man stood on the great hook at the lower end, balancing himself by hanging on the chain. in a few seconds he came up again. the chain tightened and the great grey crab rose over the edge of the deck, and was drawn into the wheel-house, the doors of which were closed, shutting in a few only of the men. i waited, quite quiet. after a space of a few minutes, captain rooke in his uniform walked out of the wheel-house. he entered a small boat, which had been in the meantime lowered for the purpose, and was rowed to the steps on the mole. ascending these, he came directly towards the signal-tower. when he had ascended and stood beside me, he saluted. "well?" i asked. "all well, sir," he answered. "we shan't have any more trouble with that lot, i think. you warned that pirate--i wish he had been in truth a clean, honest, straightforward pirate, instead of the measly turkish swab he was--that something might occur before the first stroke of six bells. well, something has occurred, and for him and all his crew that six bells will never sound. so the lord fights for the cross against the crescent! bismillah. amen!" he said this in a manifestly formal way, as though declaiming a ritual. the next instant he went on in the thoroughly practical conventional way which was usual to him: "may i ask a favour, mr. sent leger?" "a thousand, my dear rooke," i said. "you can't ask me anything which i shall not freely grant. and i speak within my brief from the national council. you have saved ilsin this day, and the council will thank you for it in due time." "me, sir?" he said, with a look of surprise on his face which seemed quite genuine. "if you think that, i am well out of it. i was afraid, when i woke, that you might court-martial me!" "court-martial you! what for?" i asked, surprised in my turn. "for going to sleep on duty, sir! and the fact is, i was worn out in the attack on the silent tower last night, and when you had your interview with the pirate--all good pirates forgive me for the blasphemy! amen!--and i knew that everything was going smoothly, i went into the wheel-house and took forty winks." he said all this without moving so much as an eyelid, from which i gathered that he wished absolute silence to be observed on my part. whilst i was revolving this in my mind he went on: "touching that request, sir. when i have left you and the voivode--and the voivodin, of course--at vissarion, together with such others as you may choose to bring there with you, may i bring the yacht back here for a spell? i rather think that there is a good deal of cleaning up to be done, and the crew of _the lady_ with myself are the men to do it. we shall be back by nightfall at the creek." "do as you think best, admiral rooke," i said. "admiral?" "yes, admiral. at present i can only say that tentatively, but by to-morrow i am sure the national council will have confirmed it. i am afraid, old friend, that your squadron will be only your flagship for the present; but later we may do better." "so long as i am admiral, your honour, i shall have no other flagship than _the lady_. i am not a young man, but, young or old, my pennon shall float over no other deck. now, one other favour, mr. sent leger? it is a corollary of the first, so i do not hesitate to ask. may i appoint lieutenant desmond, my present first officer, to the command of the battleship? of course, he will at first only command the prize crew; but in such case he will fairly expect the confirmation of his rank later. i had better, perhaps, tell you, sir, that he is a very capable seaman, learned in all the sciences that pertain to a battleship, and bred in the first navy in the world." "by all means, admiral. your nomination shall, i think i may promise you, be confirmed." not another word we spoke. i returned with him in his boat to _the lady_, which was brought to the dock wall, where we were received with tumultuous cheering. i hurried off to my wife and the voivode. rooke, calling desmond to him, went on the bridge of _the lady_, which turned, and went out at terrific speed to the battleship, which was already drifting up northward on the tide. from the report of cristoferos, scribe of the national council of the land of the blue mountains. _july_ , . the meeting of the national council, july , was but a continuation of that held before the rescue of the voivodin vissarion, the members of the council having been during the intervening night housed in the castle of vissarion. when, in the early morning, they met, all were jubilant; for late at night the fire-signal had flamed up from ilsin with the glad news that the voivode peter vissarion was safe, having been rescued with great daring on an aeroplane by his daughter and the gospodar rupert, as the people call him--mister rupert sent leger, as he is in his british name and degree. whilst the council was sitting, word came that a great peril to the town of ilsin had been averted. a war-vessel acknowledging to no nationality, and therefore to be deemed a pirate, had threatened to bombard the town; but just before the time fixed for the fulfilment of her threat, she was shaken to such an extent by some sub-aqueous means that, though she herself was seemingly uninjured, nothing was left alive on board. thus the lord preserves his own! the consideration of this, as well as the other incident, was postponed until the coming voivode and the gospodar rupert, together with who were already on their way hither. the same (later in the same day). the council resumed its sitting at four o'clock. the voivode peter vissarion and the voivodin teuta had arrived with the "gospodar rupert," as the mountaineers call him (mr. rupert sent leger) on the armoured yacht he calls _the lady_. the national council showed great pleasure when the voivode entered the hall in which the council met. he seemed much gratified by the reception given to him. mr. rupert sent leger, by the express desire of the council, was asked to be present at the meeting. he took a seat at the bottom of the hall, and seemed to prefer to remain there, though asked by the president of the council to sit at the top of the table with himself and the voivode. when the formalities of such councils had been completed, the voivode handed to the president a memorandum of his report on his secret mission to foreign courts on behalf of the national council. he then explained at length, for the benefit of the various members of the council, the broad results of his mission. the result was, he said, absolutely satisfactory. everywhere he had been received with distinguished courtesy, and given a sympathetic hearing. several of the powers consulted had made delay in giving final answers, but this, he explained, was necessarily due to new considerations arising from the international complications which were universally dealt with throughout the world as "the balkan crisis." in time, however (the voivode went on), these matters became so far declared as to allow the waiting powers to form definite judgment--which, of course, they did not declare to him--as to their own ultimate action. the final result--if at this initial stage such tentative setting forth of their own attitude in each case can be so named--was that he returned full of hope (founded, he might say, upon a justifiable personal belief) that the great powers throughout the world--north, south, east, and west--were in thorough sympathy with the land of the blue mountains in its aspirations for the continuance of its freedom. "i also am honoured," he continued, "to bring to you, the great council of the nation, the assurance of protection against unworthy aggression on the part of neighbouring nations of present greater strength." whilst he was speaking, the gospodar rupert was writing a few words on a strip of paper, which he sent up to the president. when the voivode had finished speaking, there was a prolonged silence. the president rose, and in a hush said that the council would like to hear mr. rupert sent leger, who had a communication to make regarding certain recent events. mr. rupert sent leger rose, and reported how, since he had been entrusted by the council with the rescue of the voivode peter of vissarion, he had, by aid of the voivodin, effected the escape of the voivode from the silent tower; also that, following this happy event, the mountaineers, who had made a great cordon round the tower so soon as it was known that the voivode had been imprisoned within it, had stormed it in the night. as a determined resistance was offered by the marauders, who had used it as a place of refuge, none of these escaped. he then went on to tell how he sought interview with the captain of the strange warship, which, without flying any flag, invaded our waters. he asked the president to call on me to read the report of that meeting. this, in obedience to his direction, i did. the acquiescent murmuring of the council showed how thoroughly they endorsed mr. sent leger's words and acts. when i resumed my seat, mr. sent leger described how, just before the time fixed by the "pirate captain"--so he designated him, as did every speaker thereafter--the warship met with some under-sea accident, which had a destructive effect on all on board her. then he added certain words, which i give verbatim, as i am sure that others will some time wish to remember them in their exactness: "by the way, president and lords of the council, i trust i may ask you to confirm captain rooke, of the armoured yacht _the lady_, to be admiral of the squadron of the land of the blue mountains, and also captain (tentatively) desmond, late first-lieutenant of _the lady_, to the command of the second warship of our fleet--the as yet unnamed vessel, whose former captain threatened to bombard ilsin. my lords, admiral rooke has done great service to the land of the blue mountains, and deserves well at your hands. you will have in him, i am sure, a great official. one who will till his last breath give you good and loyal service." he had sat down, the president put to the council resolutions, which were passed by acclamation. admiral rooke was given command of the navy, and captain desmond confirmed in his appointment to the captaincy of the new ship, which was, by a further resolution, named _the gospodar rupert_. in thanking the council for acceding to his request, and for the great honour done him in the naming of the ship, mr. sent leger said: "may i ask that the armoured yacht _the lady_ be accepted by you, the national council, on behalf of the nation, as a gift on behalf of the cause of freedom from the voivodin teuta?" in response to the mighty cheer of the council with which the splendid gift was accepted the gospodar rupert--mr. sent leger--bowed, and went quietly out of the room. as no agenda of the meeting had been prepared, there was for a time, not silence, but much individual conversation. in the midst of it the voivode rose up, whereupon there was a strict silence. all listened with an intensity of eagerness whilst he spoke. "president and lords of the council, archbishop, and vladika, i should but ill show my respect did i hesitate to tell you at this the first opportunity i have had of certain matters personal primarily to myself, but which, in the progress of recent events, have come to impinge on the affairs of the nation. until i have done so, i shall not feel that i have done a duty, long due to you or your predecessors in office, and which i hope you will allow me to say that i have only kept back for purposes of statecraft. may i ask that you will come back with me in memory to the year , when our struggle against ottoman aggression, later on so successfully brought to a close, was begun. we were then in a desperate condition. our finances had run so low that we could not purchase even the bread which we required. nay, more, we could not procure through the national exchequer what we wanted more than bread--arms of modern effectiveness; for men may endure hunger and yet fight well, as the glorious past of our country has proved again and again and again. but when our foes are better armed than we are, the penalty is dreadful to a nation small as our own is in number, no matter how brave their hearts. in this strait i myself had to secretly raise a sufficient sum of money to procure the weapons we needed. to this end i sought the assistance of a great merchant-prince, to whom our nation as well as myself was known. he met me in the same generous spirit which he had shown to other struggling nationalities throughout a long and honourable career. when i pledged to him as security my own estates, he wished to tear up the bond, and only under pressure would he meet my wishes in this respect. lords of the council, it was his money, thus generously advanced, which procured for us the arms with which we hewed out our freedom. "not long ago that noble merchant--and here i trust you will pardon me that i am so moved as to perhaps appear to suffer in want of respect to this great council--this noble merchant passed to his account--leaving to a near kinsman of his own the royal fortune which he had amassed. only a few hours ago that worthy kinsman of the benefactor of our nation made it known to me that in his last will he had bequeathed to me, by secret trust, the whole of those estates which long ago i had forfeited by effluxion of time, inasmuch as i had been unable to fulfil the terms of my voluntary bond. it grieves me to think that i have had to keep you so long in ignorance of the good thought and wishes and acts of this great man. "but it was by his wise counsel, fortified by my own judgment, that i was silent; for, indeed, i feared, as he did, lest in our troublous times some doubting spirit without our boundaries, or even within it, might mistrust the honesty of my purposes for public good, because i was no longer one whose whole fortune was invested within our confines. this prince-merchant, the great english roger melton--let his name be for ever graven on the hearts of our people!--kept silent during his own life, and enjoined on others to come after him to keep secret from the men of the blue mountains that secret loan made to me on their behalf, lest in their eyes i, who had striven to be their friend and helper, should suffer wrong repute. but, happily, he has left me free to clear myself in your eyes. moreover, by arranging to have--under certain contingencies, which have come to pass--the estates which were originally my own retransferred to me, i have no longer the honour of having given what i could to the national cause. all such now belongs to him; for it was his money--and his only--which purchased our national armament. "his worthy kinsman you already know, for he has not only been amongst you for many months, but has already done you good service in his own person. he it was who, as a mighty warrior, answered the summons of the vladika when misfortune came upon my house in the capture by enemies of my dear daughter, the voivodin teuta, whom you hold in your hearts; who, with a chosen band of our brothers, pursued the marauders, and himself, by a deed of daring and prowess, of which poets shall hereafter sing, saved her, when hope itself seemed to be dead, from their ruthless hands, and brought her back to us; who administered condign punishment to the miscreants who had dared to so wrong her. he it was who later took me, your servant, out of the prison wherein another band of turkish miscreants held me captive; rescued me, with the help of my dear daughter, whom he had already freed, whilst i had on my person the documents of international secrecy of which i have already advised you--rescued me whilst i had been as yet unsubjected to the indignity of search. "beyond this you know now that of which i was in partial ignorance: how he had, through the skill and devotion of your new admiral, wrought destruction on a hecatomb of our malignant foes. you who have received for the nation the splendid gift of the little warship, which already represents a new era in naval armament, can understand the great-souled generosity of the man who has restored the vast possessions of my house. on our way hither from ilsin, rupert sent leger made known to me the terms of the trust of his noble uncle, roger melton, and--believe me that he did so generously, with a joy that transcended my own--restored to the last male of the vissarion race the whole inheritance of a noble line. "and now, my lords of the council, i come to another matter, in which i find myself in something of a difficulty, for i am aware that in certain ways you actually know more of it than even i myself do. it is regarding the marriage of my daughter to rupert sent leger. it is known to me that the matter has been brought before you by the archbishop, who, as guardian of my daughter during my absence on the service of the nation, wished to obtain your sanction, as till my return he held her safety in trust. this was so, not from any merit of mine, but because she, in her own person, had undertaken for the service of our nation a task of almost incredible difficulty. my lords, were she child of another father, i should extol to the skies her bravery, her self-devotion, her loyalty to the land she loves. why, then, should i hesitate to speak of her deeds in fitting terms, since it is my duty, my glory, to hold them in higher honour than can any in this land? i shall not shame her--or even myself--by being silent when such a duty urges me to speak, as voivode, as trusted envoy of our nation, as father. ages hence loyal men and women of our land of the blue mountains will sing her deeds in song and tell them in story. her name, teuta, already sacred in these regions, where it was held by a great queen, and honoured by all men, will hereafter be held as a symbol and type of woman's devotion. oh, my lords, we pass along the path of life, the best of us but a little time marching in the sunlight between gloom and gloom, and it is during that march that we must be judged for the future. this brave woman has won knightly spurs as well as any paladin of old. so is it meet that ere she might mate with one worthy of her you, who hold in your hands the safety and honour of the state, should give your approval. to you was it given to sit in judgment on the worth of this gallant englisher, now my son. you judged him then, before you had seen his valour, his strength, and skill exercised on behalf of a national cause. you judged wisely, oh, my brothers, and out of a grateful heart i thank you one and all for it. well has he justified your trust by his later acts. when, in obedience to the summons of the vladika, he put the nation in a blaze and ranged our boundaries with a ring of steel, he did so unknowing that what was dearest to him in the world was at stake. he saved my daughter's honour and happiness, and won her safety by an act of valour that outvies any told in history. he took my daughter with him to bring me out from the silent tower on the wings of the air, when earth had for me no possibility of freedom--i, that had even then in my possession the documents involving other nations which the soldan would fain have purchased with the half of his empire. "henceforth to me, lords of the council, this brave man must ever be as a son of my heart, and i trust that in his name grandsons of my own may keep in bright honour the name which in glorious days of old my fathers made illustrious. did i know how adequately to thank you for your interest in my child, i would yield up to you my very soul in thanks." the speech of the voivode was received with the honour of the blue mountains--the drawing and raising of handjars. from rupert's journal. _july_ , . for nearly a week we waited for some message from constantinople, fully expecting either a declaration of war, or else some inquiry so couched as to make war an inevitable result. the national council remained on at vissarion as the guests of the voivode, to whom, in accordance with my uncle's will, i had prepared to re-transfer all his estates. he was, by the way, unwilling at first to accept, and it was only when i showed him uncle roger's letter, and made him read the deed of transfer prepared in anticipation by mr. trent, that he allowed me to persuade him. finally he said: "as you, my good friends, have so arranged, i must accept, be it only in honour to the wishes of the dead. but remember, i only do so but for the present, reserving to myself the freedom to withdraw later if i so desire." but constantinople was silent. the whole nefarious scheme was one of the "put-up jobs" which are part of the dirty work of a certain order of statecraft--to be accepted if successful; to be denied in case of failure. the matter stood thus: turkey had thrown the dice--and lost. her men were dead; her ship was forfeit. it was only some ten days after the warship was left derelict with every living thing--that is, everything that had been living--with its neck broken, as rooke informed me, when he brought the ship down the creek, and housed it in the dock behind the armoured gates--that we saw an item in _the roma_ copied from _the constantinople journal_ of july : "loss of an ottoman ironclad with all hands. "news has been received at constantinople of the total loss, with all hands, of one of the newest and finest warships in the turkish fleet--_the mahmoud_, captain ali ali--which foundered in a storm on the night of july , some distance off cabrera, in the balearic isles. there were no survivors, and no wreckage was discovered by the ships which went in relief--the _pera_ and the _mustapha_--or reported from anywhere along the shores of the islands, of which exhaustive search was made. _the mahmoud_ was double-manned, as she carried a full extra crew sent on an educational cruise on the most perfectly scientifically equipped warship on service in the mediterranean waters." when the voivode and i talked over the matter, he said: "after all, turkey is a shrewd power. she certainly seems to know when she is beaten, and does not intend to make a bad thing seem worse in the eyes of the world." well, 'tis a bad wind that blows good to nobody. as _the mahmoud_ was lost off the balearics, it cannot have been her that put the marauders on shore and trained her big guns on ilsin. we take it, therefore, that the latter must have been a pirate, and as we have taken her derelict in our waters, she is now ours in all ways. anyhow, she is ours, and is the first ship of her class in the navy of the blue mountains. i am inclined to think that even if she was--or is still--a turkish ship, admiral rooke would not be inclined to let her go. as for captain desmond, i think he would go straight out of his mind if such a thing was to be even suggested to him. it will be a pity if we have any more trouble, for life here is very happy with us all now. the voivode is, i think, like a man in a dream. teuta is ideally happy, and the real affection which sprang up between them when she and aunt janet met is a joy to think of. i had posted teuta about her, so that when they should meet my wife might not, by any inadvertence, receive or cause any pain. but the moment teuta saw her she ran straight over to her and lifted her in her strong young arms, and, raising her up as one would lift a child, kissed her. then, when she had put her sitting in the chair from which she had arisen when we entered the room, she knelt down before her, and put her face down in her lap. aunt janet's face was a study; i myself could hardly say whether at the first moment surprise or joy predominated. but there could be no doubt about it the instant after. she seemed to beam with happiness. when teuta knelt to her, she could only say: "my dear, my dear, i am glad! rupert's wife, you and i must love each other very much." seeing that they were laughing and crying in each other's arms, i thought it best to come away and leave them alone. and i didn't feel a bit lonely either when i was out of sight of them. i knew that where those two dear women were there was a place for my own heart. when i came back, teuta was sitting on aunt janet's knee. it seemed rather stupendous for the old lady, for teuta is such a splendid creature that even when she sits on my own knee and i catch a glimpse of us in some mirror, i cannot but notice what a nobly-built girl she is. my wife was jumping up as soon as i was seen, but aunt janet held her tight to her, and said: "don't stir, dear. it is such happiness to me to have you there. rupert has always been my 'little boy,' and, in spite of all his being such a giant, he is so still. and so you, that he loves, must be my little girl--in spite of all your beauty and your strength--and sit on my knee, till you can place there a little one that shall be dear to us all, and that shall let me feel my youth again. when first i saw you i was surprised, for, somehow, though i had never seen you nor even heard of you, i seemed to know your face. sit where you are, dear. it is only rupert--and we both love him." teuta looked at me, flushing rosily; but she sat quiet, and drew the old lady's white head on her young breast. janet mackelpie's notes. _july_ , . i used to think that whenever rupert should get married or start on the way to it by getting engaged--i would meet his future wife with something of the same affection that i have always had for himself. but i know now that what was really in my mind was _jealousy_, and that i was really fighting against my own instincts, and pretending to myself that i was not jealous. had i ever had the faintest idea that she would be anything the least like teuta, that sort of feeling should never have had even a foothold. no wonder my dear boy is in love with her, for, truth to tell, i am in love with her myself. i don't think i ever met a creature--a woman creature, of course, i mean--with so many splendid qualities. i almost fear to say it, lest it should seem to myself wrong; but i think she is as good as a woman as rupert is as a man. and what more than that can i say? i thought i loved her and trusted her, and knew her all i could, until this morning. i was in my own room, as it is still called. for, though rupert tells me in confidence that under his uncle's will the whole estate of vissarion, castle and all, really belongs to the voivode, and though the voivode has been persuaded to accept the position, he (the voivode) will not allow anything to be changed. he will not even hear a word of my going, or changing my room, or anything. and rupert backs him up in it, and teuta too. so what am i to do but let the dears have their way? well, this morning, when rupert was with the voivode at a meeting of the national council in the great hall, teuta came to me, and (after closing the door and bolting it, which surprised me a little) came and knelt down beside me, and put her face in my lap. i stroked her beautiful black hair, and said: "what is it, teuta darling? is there any trouble? and why did you bolt the door? has anything happened to rupert?" when she looked up i saw that her beautiful black eyes, with the stars in them, were overflowing with tears not yet shed. but she smiled through them, and the tears did not fall. when i saw her smile my heart was eased, and i said without thinking: "thank god, darling, rupert is all right." "i thank god, too, dear aunt janet!" she said softly; and i took her in my arms and laid her head on my breast. "go on, dear," i said; "tell me what it is that troubles you?" this time i saw the tears drop, as she lowered her head and hid her face from me. "i'm afraid i have deceived you, aunt janet, and that you will not--cannot--forgive me." "lord save you, child!" i said, "there's nothing that you could do that i could not and would not forgive. not that you would ever do anything base, for that is the only thing that is hard to forgive. tell me now what troubles you." she looked up in my eyes fearlessly, this time with only the signs of tears that had been, and said proudly: "nothing base, aunt janet. my father's daughter would not willingly be base. i do not think she could. moreover, had i ever done anything base i should not be here, for--for--i should never have been rupert's wife!" "then what is it? tell your old aunt janet, dearie." she answered me with another question: "aunt janet, do you know who i am, and how i first met rupert?" "you are the voivodin teuta vissarion--the daughter of the voivode--or, rather, you were; you are now mrs. rupert sent leger. for he is still an englishman, and a good subject of our noble king." "yes, aunt janet," she said, "i am that, and proud to be it--prouder than i would be were i my namesake, who was queen in the old days. but how and where did i see rupert first?" i did not know, and frankly told her so. so she answered her question herself: "i saw him first in his own room at night." i knew in my heart that in whatever she did had been nothing wrong, so i sat silent waiting for her to go on: "i was in danger, and in deadly fear. i was afraid i might die--not that i fear death--and i wanted help and warmth. i was not dressed as i am now!" on the instant it came to me how i knew her face, even the first time i had seen it. i wished to help her out of the embarrassing part of her confidence, so i said: "dearie, i think i know. tell me, child, will you put on the frock . . . the dress . . . costume you wore that night, and let me see you in it? it is not mere idle curiosity, my child, but something far, far above such idle folly." "wait for me a minute, aunt janet," she said, as she rose up; "i shall not be long." then she left the room. in a very few minutes she was back. her appearance might have frightened some people, for she was clad only in a shroud. her feet were bare, and she walked across the room with the gait of an empress, and stood before me with her eyes modestly cast down. but when presently she looked up and caught my eyes, a smile rippled over her face. she threw herself once more before me on her knees, and embraced me as she said: "i was afraid i might frighten you, dear." i knew i could truthfully reassure her as to that, so i proceeded to do so: "do not worry yourself, my dear. i am not by nature timid. i come of a fighting stock which has sent out heroes, and i belong to a family wherein is the gift of second sight. why should we fear? we know! moreover, i saw you in that dress before. teuta, i saw you and rupert married!" this time she herself it was that seemed disconcerted. "saw us married! how on earth did you manage to be there?" "i was not there. my seeing was long before! tell me, dear, what day, or rather what night, was it that you first saw rupert?" she answered sadly: "i do not know. alas! i lost count of the days as i lay in the tomb in that dreary crypt." "was your--your clothing wet that night?" i asked. "yes. i had to leave the crypt, for a great flood was out, and the church was flooded. i had to seek help--warmth--for i feared i might die. oh, i was not, as i have told you, afraid of death. but i had undertaken a terrible task to which i had pledged myself. it was for my father's sake, and the sake of the land, and i felt that it was a part of my duty to live. and so i lived on, when death would have been relief. it was to tell you all about this that i came to your room to-day. but how did you see me--us--married?" "ah, my child!" i answered, "that was before the marriage took place. the morn after the night that you came in the wet, when, having been troubled in uncanny dreaming, i came to see if rupert was a'richt, i lost remembrance o' my dreaming, for the floor was all wet, and that took off my attention. but later, the morn after rupert used his fire in his room for the first time, i told him what i had dreamt; for, lassie, my dear, i saw ye as bride at that weddin' in fine lace o'er yer shrood, and orange-flowers and ithers in yer black hair; an' i saw the stars in yer bonny een--the een i love. but oh, my dear, when i saw the shrood, and kent what it might mean, i expeckit to see the worms crawl round yer feet. but do ye ask yer man to tell ye what i tell't him that morn. 'twill interest ye to know how the hairt o' men can learn by dreams. has he ever tellt ye aught o' this?" "no, dear," she said simply. "i think that perhaps he was afraid that one or other of us, if not both, might be upset by it if he did. you see, he did not tell you anything at all of our meeting, though i am sure that he will be glad when he knows that we both know all about it, and have told each other everything." that was very sweet of her, and very thoughtful in all ways, so i said that which i thought would please her best--that is, the truth: "ah, lassie, that is what a wife should be--what a wife should do. rupert is blessed and happy to have his heart in your keeping." i knew from the added warmth of her kiss what i had said had pleased her. _letter from ernest roger halbard melton_, _humcroft_, _salop_, _to rupert sent leger_, _vissarion_, _land of the blue mountains_. _july_ , . my dear cousin rupert, we have heard such glowing accounts of vissarion that i am coming out to see you. as you are yourself now a landowner, you will understand that my coming is not altogether a pleasure. indeed, it is a duty first. when my father dies i shall be head of the family--the family of which uncle roger, to whom we were related, was a member. it is therefore meet and fitting that i should know something of our family branches and of their seats. i am not giving you time for much warning, so am coming on immediately--in fact, i shall arrive almost as soon as this letter. but i want to catch you in the middle of your tricks. i hear that the blue mountaineer girls are peaches, so don't send them _all_ away when you hear i'm coming! do send a yacht up to fiume to meet me. i hear you have all sorts of craft at vissarion. the macskelpie, i hear, said you received her as a queen; so i hope you will do the decent by one of your own flesh and blood, and the future head of the house at that. i shan't bring much of a retinue with me. _i_ wasn't made a billionaire by old roger, so can only take my modest "man friday"--whose name is jenkinson, and a cockney at that. so don't have too much gold lace and diamond-hilted scimitars about, like a good chap, or else he'll want the very worst--his wyges ryzed. that old image rooke that came over for miss mcs., and whom by chance i saw at the attorney man's, might pilot me down from fiume. the old gentleman-by-act-of-parliament mr. bingham trent (i suppose he has hyphened it by this time) told me that miss mcs. said he "did her proud" when she went over under his charge. i shall be at fiume on the evening of wednesday, and shall stay at the europa, which is, i am told, the least indecent hotel in the place. so you know where to find me, or any of your attendant demons can know, in case i am to suffer "substituted service." your affectionate cousin, ernest roger halbard melton. _letter from admiral rooke to the gospodar rupert_. _august_ , . sir, in obedience to your explicit direction that i should meet mr. ernest r. h. melton at fiume, and report to you exactly what occurred, "without keeping anything back,"--as you will remember you said, i beg to report. i brought the steam-yacht _trent_ to fiume, arriving there on the morning of thursday. at . p.m. i went to meet the train from st. peter, due . . it was something late, arriving just as the clock was beginning to strike midnight. mr. melton was on board, and with him his valet jenkinson. i am bound to say that he did not seem very pleased with his journey, and expressed much disappointment at not seeing your honour awaiting him. i explained, as you directed, that you had to attend with the voivode vissarion and the vladika the national council, which met at plazac, or that otherwise you would have done yourself the pleasure of coming to meet him. i had, of course, reserved rooms (the prince of wales's suite), for him at the re d'ungheria, and had waiting the carriage which the proprietor had provided for the prince of wales when he stayed there. mr. melton took his valet with him (on the box-seat), and i followed in a _stadtwagen_ with the luggage. when i arrived, i found the _maitre d'hotel_ in a stupor of concern. the english nobleman, he said, had found fault with everything, and used to him language to which he was not accustomed. i quieted him, telling him that the stranger was probably unused to foreign ways, and assuring him that your honour had every faith in him. he announced himself satisfied and happy at the assurance. but i noticed that he promptly put everything in the hands of the headwaiter, telling him to satisfy the milor at any cost, and then went away to some urgent business in vienna. clever man! i took mr. melton's orders for our journey in the morning, and asked if there was anything for which he wished. he simply said to me: "everything is rotten. go to hell, and shut the door after you!" his man, who seems a very decent little fellow, though he is as vain as a peacock, and speaks with a cockney accent which is simply terrible, came down the passage after me, and explained "on his own," as he expressed it, that his master, "mr. ernest," was upset by the long journey, and that i was not to mind. i did not wish to make him uncomfortable, so i explained that i minded nothing except what your honour wished; that the steam-yacht would be ready at a.m.; and that i should be waiting in the hotel from that time on till mr. melton cared to start, to bring him aboard. in the morning i waited till the man jenkinson came and told me that mr. ernest would start at ten. i asked if he would breakfast on board; he answered that he would take his _cafe-complet_ at the hotel, but breakfast on board. we left at ten, and took the electric pinnace out to the _trent_, which lay, with steam up, in the roads. breakfast was served on board, by his orders, and presently he came up on the bridge, where i was in command. he brought his man jenkinson with him. seeing me there, and not (i suppose) understanding that i was in command, he unceremoniously ordered me to go on the deck. indeed, he named a place much lower. i made a sign of silence to the quartermaster at the wheel, who had released the spokes, and was going, i feared, to make some impertinent remark. jenkinson joined me presently, and said, as some sort of explanation of his master's discourtesy (of which he was manifestly ashamed), if not as an amende: "the governor is in a hell of a wax this morning." when we got in sight of meleda, mr. melton sent for me and asked me where we were to land. i told him that, unless he wished to the contrary, we were to run to vissarion; but that my instructions were to land at whatever port he wished. whereupon he told me that he wished to stay the night at some place where he might be able to see some "life." he was pleased to add something, which i presume he thought jocular, about my being able to "coach" him in such matters, as doubtless even "an old has-been like you" had still some sort of an eye for a pretty girl. i told him as respectfully as i could that i had no knowledge whatever on such subjects, which were possibly of some interest to younger men, but of none to me. he said no more; so after waiting for further orders, but without receiving any, i said: "i suppose, sir, we shall run to vissarion?" "run to the devil, if you like!" was his reply, as he turned away. when we arrived in the creek at vissarion, he seemed much milder--less aggressive in his manner; but when he heard that you were detained at plazac, he got rather "fresh"--i use the american term--again. i greatly feared there would be a serious misfortune before we got into the castle, for on the dock was julia, the wife of michael, the master of the wine, who is, as you know, very beautiful. mr. melton seemed much taken with her; and she, being flattered by the attention of a strange gentleman and your honour's kinsman, put aside the stand-offishness of most of the blue mountain women. whereupon mr. melton, forgetting himself, took her in his arms and kissed her. instantly there was a hubbub. the mountaineers present drew their handjars, and almost on the instant sudden death appeared to be amongst us. happily the men waited as michael, who had just arrived on the quay-wall as the outrage took place, ran forward, wheeling his handjar round his head, and manifestly intending to decapitate mr. melton. on the instant--i am sorry to say it, for it created a terribly bad effect--mr. melton dropped on his knees in a state of panic. there was just this good use in it--that there was a pause of a few seconds. during that time the little cockney valet, who has the heart of a man in him, literally burst his way forward, and stood in front of his master in boxing attitude, calling out: "'ere, come on, the 'ole lot of ye! 'e ain't done no 'arm. he honly kissed the gal, as any man would. if ye want to cut off somebody's 'ed, cut off mine. i ain't afride!" there was such genuine pluck in this, and it formed so fine a contrast to the other's craven attitude (forgive me, your honour; but you want the truth!), that i was glad he was an englishman, too. the mountaineers recognized his spirit, and saluted with their handjars, even michael amongst the number. half turning his head, the little man said in a fierce whisper: "buck up, guv'nor! get up, or they'll slice ye! 'ere's mr. rooke; 'e'll see ye through it." by this time the men were amenable to reason, and when i reminded them that mr. melton was your honour's cousin, they put aside their handjars and went about their work. i asked mr. melton to follow, and led the way to the castle. when we got close to the great entrance within the walled courtyard, we found a large number of the servants gathered, and with them many of the mountaineers, who have kept an organized guard all round the castle ever since the abducting of the voivodin. as both your honour and the voivode were away at plazac, the guard had for the time been doubled. when the steward came and stood in the doorway, the servants stood off somewhat, and the mountaineers drew back to the farther sides and angles of the courtyard. the voivodin had, of course, been informed of the guest's (your cousin) coming, and came to meet him in the old custom of the blue mountains. as your honour only came to the blue mountains recently, and as no occasion has been since then of illustrating the custom since the voivode was away, and the voivodin then believed to be dead, perhaps i, who have lived here so long, may explain: when to an old blue mountain house a guest comes whom it is wished to do honour, the lady, as in the vernacular the mistress of the house is called, comes herself to meet the guest at the door--or, rather, _outside_ the door--so that she can herself conduct him within. it is a pretty ceremony, and it is said that of old in kingly days the monarch always set much store by it. the custom is that, when she approaches the honoured guest (he need not be royal), she bends--or more properly kneels--before him and kisses his hand. it has been explained by historians that the symbolism is that the woman, showing obedience to her husband, as the married woman of the blue mountains always does, emphasizes that obedience to her husband's guest. the custom is always observed in its largest formality when a young wife receives for the first time a guest, and especially one whom her husband wishes to honour. the voivodin was, of course, aware that mr. melton was your kinsman, and naturally wished to make the ceremony of honour as marked as possible, so as to show overtly her sense of her husband's worth. when we came into the courtyard, i held back, of course, for the honour is entirely individual, and is never extended to any other, no matter how worthy he may be. naturally mr. melton did not know the etiquette of the situation, and so for that is not to be blamed. he took his valet with him when, seeing someone coming to the door, he went forward. i thought he was going to rush to his welcomer. such, though not in the ritual, would have been natural in a young kinsman wishing to do honour to the bride of his host, and would to anyone have been both understandable and forgivable. it did not occur to me at the time, but i have since thought that perhaps he had not then heard of your honour's marriage, which i trust you will, in justice to the young gentleman, bear in mind when considering the matter. unhappily, however, he did not show any such eagerness. on the contrary, he seemed to make a point of showing indifference. it seemed to me myself that he, seeing somebody wishing to make much of him, took what he considered a safe opportunity of restoring to himself his own good opinion, which must have been considerably lowered in the episode of the wine master's wife. the voivodin, thinking, doubtless, your honour, to add a fresh lustre to her welcome, had donned the costume which all her nation has now come to love and to accept as a dress of ceremonial honour. she wore her shroud. it moved the hearts of all of us who looked on to see it, and we appreciated its being worn for such a cause. but mr. melton did not seem to care. as he had been approaching she had begun to kneel, and was already on her knees whilst he was several yards away. there he stopped and turned to speak to his valet, put a glass in his eye, and looked all round him and up and down--indeed, everywhere except at the great lady, who was on her knees before him, waiting to bid him welcome. i could see in the eyes of such of the mountaineers as were within my range of vision a growing animosity; so, hoping to keep down any such expression, which i knew would cause harm to your honour and the voivodin, i looked all round them straight in their faces with a fixed frown, which, indeed, they seemed to understand, for they regained, and for the time maintained, their usual dignified calm. the voivodin, may i say, bore the trial wonderfully. no human being could see that she was in any degree pained or even surprised. mr. melton stood looking round him so long that i had full time to regain my own attitude of calm. at last he seemed to come back to the knowledge that someone was waiting for him, and sauntered leisurely forward. there was so much insolence--mind you, not insolence that was intended to appear as such--in his movement that the mountaineers began to steal forward. when he was close up to the voivodin, and she put out her hand to take his, he put forward _one finger_! i could hear the intake of the breath of the men, now close around, for i had moved forward, too. i thought it would be as well to be close to your guest, lest something should happen to him. the voivodin still kept her splendid self-control. raising the finger put forward by the guest with the same deference as though it had been the hand of a king, she bent her head down and kissed it. her duty of courtesy now done, she was preparing to rise, when he put his hand into his pocket, and, pulling out a sovereign, offered it to her. his valet moved his hand forward, as if to pull back his arm, but it was too late. i am sure, your honour, that no affront was intended. he doubtless thought that he was doing a kindness of the sort usual in england when one "tips" a housekeeper. but all the same, to one in her position, it was an affront, an insult, open and unmistakable. so it was received by the mountaineers, whose handjars flashed out as one. for a second it was so received even by the voivodin, who, with face flushing scarlet, and the stars in her eves flaming red, sprang to her feet. but in that second she had regained herself, and to all appearances her righteous anger passed away. stooping, she took the hand of her guest and raised it--you know how strong she is--and, holding it in hers, led him into the doorway, saying: "you are welcome, kinsman of my husband, to the house of my father, which is presently my husband's also. both are grieved that, duty having called them away for the time, they are unable to be here to help me to greet you." i tell you, your honour, that it was a lesson in self-respect which anyone who saw it can never forget. as to me, it makes my flesh quiver, old as i am, with delight, and my heart leap. may i, as a faithful servant who has had many years of experience, suggest that your honour should seem--for the present, at any rate--not to know any of these things which i have reported, as you wished me to do. be sure that the voivodin will tell you her gracious self aught that she would wish you to know. and such reticence on your part must make for her happiness, even if it did not for your own. so that you may know all, as you desired, and that you may have time to school yourself to whatever attitude you think best to adopt, i send this off to you at once by fleet messenger. were the aeroplane here, i should take it myself. i leave here shortly to await the arrival of sir colin at otranto. your honour's faithful servant, rooke. janet mackelpie's notes. _august_ , . to me it seems very providential that rupert was not at home when that dreadful young man ernest melton arrived, though it is possible that if rupert had been present he would not have dared to conduct himself so badly. of course, i heard all about it from the maids; teuta never opened her lips to me on the subject. it was bad enough and stupid enough for him to try to kiss a decent young woman like julia, who is really as good as gold and as modest as one of our own highland lassies; but to think of him insulting teuta! the little beast! one would think that a champion idiot out of an equatorial asylum would know better! if michael, the wine master, wanted to kill him, i wonder what my rupert and hers would have done? i am truly thankful that he was not present. and i am thankful, too, that i was not present either, for i should have made an exhibition of myself, and rupert would not have liked that. he--the little beast! might have seen from the very dress that the dear girl wore that there was something exceptional about her. but on one account i should have liked to see her. they tell me that she was, in her true dignity, like a queen, and that her humility in receiving her husband's kinsman was a lesson to every woman in the land. i must be careful not to let rupert know that i have heard of the incident. later on, when it is all blown over and the young man has been got safely away, i shall tell him of it. mr. rooke--lord high admiral rooke, i should say--must be a really wonderful man to have so held himself in check; for, from what i have heard of him, he must in his younger days have been worse than old morgan of panama. mr. ernest roger halbard melton, of humcroft, salop, little knows how near he was to being "cleft to the chine" also. fortunately, i had heard of his meeting with teuta before he came to see me, for i did not get back from my walk till after he had arrived. teuta's noble example was before me, and i determined that i, too, would show good manners under any circumstances. but i didn't know how mean he is. think of his saying to me that rupert's position here must be a great source of pride to me, who had been his nursery governess. he said "nursemaid" first, but then stumbled in his words, seeming to remember something. i did not turn a hair, i am glad to say. it is a mercy uncle colin was not here, for i honestly believe that, if he had been, he would have done the "cleaving to the chine" himself. it has been a narrow escape for master ernest, for only this morning rupert had a message, sent on from gibraltar, saying that he was arriving with his clansmen, and that they would not be far behind his letter. he would call at otranto in case someone should come across to pilot him to vissarion. uncle told me all about that young cad having offered him one finger in mr. trent's office, though, of course, he didn't let the cad see that he noticed it. i have no doubt that, when he does arrive, that young man, if he is here still, will find that he will have to behave himself, if it be only on sir colin's account alone. the same (later). i had hardly finished writing when the lookout on the tower announced that the _teuta_, as rupert calls his aeroplane, was sighted crossing the mountains from plazac. i hurried up to see him arrive, for i had not as yet seen him on his "aero." mr. ernest melton came up, too. teuta was, of course, before any of us. she seems to know by instinct when rupert is coming. it was certainly a wonderful sight to see the little aeroplane, with outspread wings like a bird in flight, come sailing high over the mountains. there was a head-wind, and they were beating against it; otherwise we should not have had time to get to the tower before the arrival. when once the "aero" had begun to drop on the near side of the mountains, however, and had got a measure of shelter from them, her pace was extraordinary. we could not tell, of course, what sort of pace she came at from looking at herself. but we gathered some idea from the rate at which the mountains and hills seemed to slide away from under her. when she got over the foot-hills, which are about ten miles away, she came on at a swift glide that seemed to throw the distance behind her. when quite close, she rose up a little till she was something higher than the tower, to which she came as straight as an arrow from the bow, and glided to her moorings, stopping dead as rupert pulled a lever, which seemed to turn a barrier to the wind. the voivode sat beside rupert, but i must say that he seemed to hold on to the bar in front of him even more firmly than rupert held to his steering-gear. when they had alighted, rupert greeted his cousin with the utmost kindness, and bade him welcome to vissarion. "i see," he said, "you have met teuta. now you may congratulate me, if you wish." mr. melton made a long rodomontade about her beauty, but presently, stumbling about in his speech, said something regarding it being unlucky to appear in grave-clothes. rupert laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder as he answered: "that pattern of frock is likely to become a national dress for loyal women of the blue mountains. when you know something of what that dress means to us all at present you will understand. in the meantime, take it that there is not a soul in the nation that does not love it and honour her for wearing it." to which the cad replied: "oh, indeed! i thought it was some preparation for a fancy-dress ball." rupert's comment on this ill-natured speech was (for him) quite grumpily given: "i should not advise you to think such things whilst you are in this part of the world, ernest. they bury men here for much less." the cad seemed struck with something--either what rupert had said or his manner of saying it--for he was silent for several seconds before he spoke. "i'm very tired with that long journey, rupert. would you and mrs. sent leger mind if i go to my own room and turn in? my man can ask for a cup of tea and a sandwich for me." rupert's journal. _august_ , . when ernest said he wished to retire it was about the wisest thing he could have said or done, and it suited teuta and me down to the ground. i could see that the dear girl was agitated about something, so thought it would be best for her to be quiet, and not worried with being civil to the bounder. though he is my cousin, i can't think of him as anything else. the voivode and i had certain matters to attend to arising out of the meeting of the council, and when we were through the night was closing in. when i saw teuta in our own rooms she said at once: "do you mind, dear, if i stay with aunt janet to-night? she is very upset and nervous, and when i offered to come to her she clung to me and cried with relief." so when i had had some supper, which i took with the voivode, i came down to my old quarters in the garden room, and turned in early. i was awakened a little before dawn by the coming of the fighting monk theophrastos, a notable runner, who had an urgent message for me. this was the letter to me given to him by rooke. he had been cautioned to give it into no other hand, but to find me wherever i might be, and convey it personally. when he had arrived at plazac i had left on the aeroplane, so he had turned back to vissarion. when i read rooke's report of ernest melton's abominable conduct i was more angry with him than i can say. indeed, i did not think before that that i could be angry with him, for i have always despised him. but this was too much. however, i realized the wisdom of rooke's advice, and went away by myself to get over my anger and reacquire my self-mastery. the aeroplane _teuta_ was still housed on the tower, so i went up alone and took it out. when i had had a spin of about a hundred miles i felt better. the bracing of the wind and the quick, exhilarating motion restored me to myself, and i felt able to cope with master ernest, or whatever else chagrinable might come along, without giving myself away. as teuta had thought it better to keep silence as to ernest's affront, i felt i must not acknowledge it; but, all the same, i determined to get rid of him before the day was much older. when i had had my breakfast i sent word to him by a servant that i was coming to his rooms, and followed not long behind the messenger. he was in a suit of silk pyjamas, such as not even solomon in all his glory was arrayed in. i closed the door behind me before i began to speak. he listened, at first amazed, then disconcerted, then angry, and then cowering down like a whipped hound. i felt that it was a case for speaking out. a bumptious ass like him, who deliberately insulted everyone he came across--for if all or any of his efforts in that way were due to mere elemental ignorance he was not fit to live, but should be silenced on sight as a modern caliban--deserved neither pity nor mercy. to extend to him fine feeling, tolerance, and such-like gentlenesses would be to deprive the world of them without benefit to any. so well as i can remember, what i said was something like this: "ernest, as you say, you've got to go, and to go quick, you understand. i dare say you look on this as a land of barbarians, and think that any of your high-toned refinements are thrown away on people here. well, perhaps it is so. undoubtedly, the structure of the country is rough; the mountains may only represent the glacial epoch; but so far as i can gather from some of your exploits--for i have only learned a small part as yet--you represent a period a good deal farther back. you seem to have given our folk here an exhibition of the playfulness of the hooligan of the saurian stage of development; but the blue mountains, rough as they are, have come up out of the primeval slime, and even now the people aim at better manners. they may be rough, primitive, barbarian, elemental, if you will, but they are not low down enough to tolerate either your ethics or your taste. my dear cousin, your life is not safe here! i am told that yesterday, only for the restraint exercised by certain offended mountaineers on other grounds than your own worth, you would have been abbreviated by the head. another day of your fascinating presence would do away with this restraint, and then we should have a scandal. i am a new-comer here myself--too new a comer to be able to afford a scandal of that kind--and so i shall not delay your going. believe me, my dear cousin, ernest roger halbard melton, of humcroft, salop, that i am inconsolable about your resolution of immediate departure, but i cannot shut my eyes to its wisdom. at present the matter is altogether amongst ourselves, and when you have gone--if it be immediately--silence will be observed on all hands for the sake of the house wherein you are a guest; but if there be time for scandal to spread, you will be made, whether you be alive or dead, a european laughing-stock. accordingly, i have anticipated your wishes, and have ordered a fast steam yacht to take you to ancona, or to whatever other port you may desire. the yacht will be under the command of captain desmond, of one of our battleships--a most determined officer, who will carry out any directions which may be given to him. this will insure your safety so far as italian territory. some of his officials will arrange a special carriage for you up to flushing, and a cabin on the steamer to queenboro'. a man of mine will travel on the train and steamer with you, and will see that whatever you may wish in the way of food or comfort will be provided. of course, you understand, my dear cousin, that you are my guest until you arrive in london. i have not asked rooke to accompany you, as when he went to meet you, it was a mistake. indeed, there might have been a danger to you which i never contemplated--a quite unnecessary danger, i assure you. but happily admiral rooke, though a man of strong passions, has wonderful self-control." "admiral rooke?" he queried. "admiral?" "admiral, certainly," i replied, "but not an ordinary admiral--one of many. he is _the_ admiral--the lord high admiral of the land of the blue mountains, with sole control of its expanding navy. when such a man is treated as a valet, there may be . . . but why go into this? it is all over. i only mention it lest anything of a similar kind should occur with captain desmond, who is a younger man, and therefore with probably less self-repression." i saw that he had learned his lesson, and so said no more on the subject. there was another reason for his going which i did not speak of. sir colin mackelpie was coming with his clansmen, and i knew he did not like ernest melton. i well remembered that episode of his offering one finger to the old gentleman in mr. trent's office, and, moreover, i had my suspicions that aunt janet's being upset was probably in some measure due to some rudeness of his that she did not wish to speak about. he is really an impossible young man, and is far better out of this country than in it. if he remained here, there would be some sort of a tragedy for certain. i must say that it was with a feeling of considerable relief that i saw the yacht steam out of the creek, with captain desmond on the bridge and my cousin beside him. quite other were my feelings when, an hour after, _the lady_ came flying into the creek with the lord high admiral on the bridge, and beside him, more splendid and soldier-like than ever, sir colin mackelpie. mr. bingham trent was also on the bridge. the general was full of enthusiasm regarding his regiment, for in all, those he brought with him and those finishing their training at home, the force is near the number of a full regiment. when we were alone he explained to me that all was arranged regarding the non-commissioned officers, but that he had held over the question of officers until we should have had a suitable opportunity of talking the matter over together. he explained to me his reasons, which were certainly simple and cogent. officers, according to him, are a different class, and accustomed to a different standard altogether of life and living, of duties and pleasures. they are harder to deal with and more difficult to obtain. "there was no use," he said, "in getting a lot of failures, with old-crusted ways of their own importance. we must have young men for our purpose--that is, men not old, but with some experience--men, of course, who know how to behave themselves, or else, from what little i have seen of the blue mountaineers, they wouldn't last long here if they went on as some of them do elsewhere. i shall start things here as you wish me to, for i am here, my dear boy, to stay with you and janet, and we shall, if it be given to us by the almighty, help to build up together a new 'nation'--an ally of britain, who will stand at least as an outpost of our own nation, and a guardian of our eastern road. when things are organized here on the military side, and are going strong, i shall, if you can spare me, run back to london for a few weeks. whilst i am there i shall pick up a lot of the sort of officers we want. i know that there are loads of them to be had. i shall go slowly, however, and carefully, too, and every man i bring back will be recommended to me by some old soldier whom i know, and who knows the man he recommends, and has seen him work. we shall have, i dare say, an army for its size second to none in the world, and the day may come when your old country will be proud of your new one. now i'm off to see that all is ready for my people--your people now." i had had arrangements made for the comfort of the clansmen and the women, but i knew that the good old soldier would see for himself that his men were to be comfortable. it was not for nothing that he was--is--looked on as perhaps the general most beloved by his men in the whole british army. when he had gone, and i was alone, mr. trent, who had evidently been waiting for the opportunity, came to me. when we had spoken of my marriage and of teuta, who seems to have made an immense impression on him, he said suddenly: "i suppose we are quite alone, and that we shall not be interrupted?" i summoned the man outside--there is always a sentry on guard outside my door or near me, wherever i may be--and gave orders that i was not to be disturbed until i gave fresh orders. "if," i said, "there be anything pressing or important, let the voivodin or miss mackelpie know. if either of them brings anyone to me, it will be all right." when we were quite alone mr. trent took a slip of paper and some documents from the bag which was beside him. he then read out items from the slip, placing as he did so the documents so checked over before him. . new will made on marriage, to be signed presently. . copy of the re-conveyance of vissarion estates to peter vissarion, as directed by will of roger melton. . report of correspondence with privy council, and proceedings following. taking up the last named, he untied the red tape, and, holding the bundle in his hand, went on: "as you may, later on, wish to examine the details of the proceedings, i have copied out the various letters, the originals of which are put safely away in my strong-room where, of course, they are always available in case you may want them. for your present information i shall give you a rough synopsis of the proceedings, referring where advisable to this paper. "on receipt of your letter of instructions regarding the consent of the privy council to your changing your nationality in accordance with the terms of roger melton's will, i put myself in communication with the clerk of the privy council, informing him of your wish to be naturalized in due time to the land of the blue mountains. after some letters between us, i got a summons to attend a meeting of the council. "i attended, as required, taking with me all necessary documents, and such as i conceived might be advisable to produce, if wanted. "the lord president informed me that the present meeting of the council was specially summoned in obedience to the suggestion of the king, who had been consulted as to his personal wishes on the subject--should he have any. the president then proceeded to inform me officially that all proceedings of the privy council were altogether confidential, and were not to be made public under any circumstances. he was gracious enough to add: "'the circumstances of this case, however, are unique; and as you act for another, we have thought it advisable to enlarge your permission in the matter, so as to allow you to communicate freely with your principal. as that gentleman is settling himself in a part of the world which has been in the past, and may be again, united to this nation by some common interest, his majesty wishes mr. sent leger to feel assured of the good-will of great britain to the land of the blue mountains, and even of his own personal satisfaction that a gentleman of so distinguished a lineage and such approved personal character is about to be--within his own scope--a connecting-link between the nations. to which end he has graciously announced that, should the privy council acquiesce in the request of denaturalization, he will himself sign the patent therefor. "'the privy council has therefore held private session, at which the matter has been discussed in its many bearings; and it is content that the change can do no harm, but may be of some service to the two nations. we have, therefore, agreed to grant the prayer of the applicant; and the officials of the council have the matter of the form of grant in hand. so you, sir, may rest satisfied that as soon as the formalities--which will, of course, require the formal signing of certain documents by the applicant--can be complied with, the grant and patent will obtain.'" having made this statement in formal style, my old friend went on in more familiar way: "and so, my dear rupert, all is in hand; and before very long you will have the freedom required under the will, and will be at liberty to take whatever steps may be necessary to be naturalized in your new country. "i may tell you, by the way, that several members of the council made very complimentary remarks regarding you. i am forbidden to give names, but i may tell you facts. one old field-marshal, whose name is familiar to the whole world, said that he had served in many places with your father, who was a very valiant soldier, and that he was glad that great britain was to have in the future the benefit of your father's son in a friendly land now beyond the outposts of our empire, but which had been one with her in the past, and might be again. "so much for the privy council. we can do no more at present until you sign and have attested the documents which i have brought with me. "we can now formally complete the settlement of the vissarion estates, which must be done whilst you are a british citizen. so, too, with the will, the more formal and complete document, which is to take the place of that short one which you forwarded to me the day after your marriage. it may be, perhaps, necessary or advisable that, later on, when you are naturalized here, you shall make a new will in strictest accordance with local law." teuta sent leger's diary. _august_ , . we had a journey to-day that was simply glorious. we had been waiting to take it for more than a week. rupert not only wanted the weather suitable, but he had to wait till the new aeroplane came home. it is more than twice as big as our biggest up to now. none of the others could take all the party which rupert wanted to go. when he heard that the aero was coming from whitby, where it was sent from leeds, he directed by cable that it should be unshipped at otranto, whence he took it here all by himself. i wanted to come with him, but he thought it better not. he says that brindisi is too busy a place to keep anything quiet--if not secret--and he wants to be very dark indeed about this, as it is worked by the new radium engine. ever since they found radium in our own hills he has been obsessed by the idea of an aerial navy for our protection. and after to-day's experiences i think he is right. as he wanted to survey the whole country at a glimpse, so that the general scheme of defence might be put in hand, we had to have an aero big enough to take the party as well as fast enough to do it rapidly, and all at once. we had, in addition to rupert, my father, and myself, sir colin and lord high admiral rooke (i do like to give that splendid old fellow his full title!). the military and naval experts had with them scientific apparatus of various kinds, also cameras and range-finders, so that they could mark their maps as they required. rupert, of course, drove, and i acted as his assistant. father, who has not yet become accustomed to aerial travel, took a seat in the centre (which rupert had thoughtfully prepared for him), where there is very little motion. i must say i was amazed to see the way that splendid old soldier sir colin bore himself. he had never been on an aeroplane before, but, all the same, he was as calm as if he was on a rock. height or motion did not trouble him. indeed, he seemed to _enjoy_ himself all the time. the admiral is himself almost an expert, but in any case i am sure he would have been unconcerned, just as he was in the _crab_ as rupert has told me. we left just after daylight, and ran down south. when we got to the east of ilsin, we kept slightly within the border-line, and went north or east as it ran, making occasional loops inland over the mountains and back again. when we got up to our farthest point north, we began to go much slower. sir colin explained that for the rest all would be comparatively plain-sailing in the way of defence; but that as any foreign power other than the turk must attack from seaward, he would like to examine the seaboard very carefully in conjunction with the admiral, whose advice as to sea defence would be invaluable. rupert was fine. no one could help admiring him as he sat working his lever and making the great machine obey every touch. he was wrapped up in his work. i don't believe that whilst he was working he ever thought of even me. he _is_ splendid! we got back just as the sun was dropping down over the calabrian mountains. it is quite wonderful how the horizon changes when you are sailing away up high on an aeroplane. rupert is going to teach me how to manage one all by myself, and when i am fit he will give me one, which he is to have specially built for me. i think i, too, have done some good work--at least, i have got some good ideas--from our journey to-day. mine are not of war, but of peace, and i think i see a way by which we shall be able to develop our country in a wonderful way. i shall talk the idea over with rupert to-night, when we are alone. in the meantime sir colin and admiral rooke will think their plans over individually, and to-morrow morning together. then the next day they, too, are to go over their idea with rupert and my father, and something may be decided then. rupert's journal--_continued_. _august_ , . our meeting on the subject of national defence, held this afternoon, went off well. we were five in all, for with permission of the voivode and the two fighting-men, naval and military, i brought teuta with me. she sat beside me quite quietly, and never made a remark of any kind till the defence business had been gone through. both sir colin and admiral rooke were in perfect agreement as to the immediate steps to be taken for defence. in the first instance, the seaboard was to be properly fortified in the necessary places, and the navy largely strengthened. when we had got thus far i asked rooke to tell of the navy increase already in hand. whereupon he explained that, as we had found the small battleship _the lady_ of an excellent type for coast defence, acting only in home waters, and of a size to take cover where necessary at many places on our own shores, we had ordered nine others of the same pattern. of these the first four were already in hand, and were proceeding with the greatest expedition. the general then supplemented this by saying that big guns could be used from points judiciously chosen on the seaboard, which was in all so short a length that no very great quantity of armament would be required. "we can have," he said, "the biggest guns of the most perfect kind yet accomplished, and use them from land batteries of the most up-to-date pattern. the one serious proposition we have to deal with is the defence of the harbour--as yet quite undeveloped--which is known as the 'blue mouth.' since our aerial journey i have been to it by sea with admiral rooke in _the lady_, and then on land with the vladika, who was born on its shores, and who knows every inch of it. "it is worth fortifying--and fortifying well, for as a port it is peerless in mediterranean seas. the navies of the world might ride in it, land-locked, and even hidden from view seawards. the mountains which enclose it are in themselves absolute protection. in addition, these can only be assailed from our own territory. of course, voivode, you understand when i say 'our' i mean the land of the blue mountains, for whose safety and well-being i am alone concerned. any ship anchoring in the roads of the blue mouth would have only one need--sufficient length of cable for its magnificent depth. "when proper guns are properly placed on the steep cliffs to north and south of the entrance, and when the rock islet between has been armoured and armed as will be necessary, the mouth will be impregnable. but we should not depend on the aiming of the entrance alone. at certain salient points--which i have marked upon this map--armour-plated sunken forts within earthworks should be established. there should be covering forts on the hillsides, and, of course, the final summits protected. thus we could resist attack on any side or all sides--from sea or land. that port will yet mean the wealth as well as the strength of this nation, so it will be well to have it properly protected. this should be done soon, and the utmost secrecy observed in the doing of it, lest the so doing should become a matter of international concern." here rooke smote the table hard. "by god, that is true! it has been the dream of my own life for this many a year." in the silence which followed the sweet, gentle voice of teuta came clear as a bell: "may i say a word? i am emboldened to, as sir colin has spoken so splendidly, and as the lord high admiral has not hesitated to mention his dreaming. i, too, have had a dream--a day-dream--which came in a flash, but no less a dream, for all that. it was when we hung on the aeroplane over the blue mouth. it seemed to me in an instant that i saw that beautiful spot as it will some time be--typical, as sir colin said, of the wealth as well as the strength of this nation; a mart for the world whence will come for barter some of the great wealth of the blue mountains. that wealth is as yet undeveloped. but the day is at hand when we may begin to use it, and through that very port. our mountains and their valleys are clad with trees of splendid growth, virgin forests of priceless worth; hard woods of all kinds, which have no superior throughout the world. in the rocks, though hidden as yet, is vast mineral wealth of many kinds. i have been looking through the reports of the geological exports of the commission of investigation which my husband organized soon after he came to live here, and, according to them, our whole mountain ranges simply teem with vast quantities of minerals, almost more precious for industry than gold and silver are for commerce--though, indeed, gold is not altogether lacking as a mineral. when once our work on the harbour is done, and the place has been made secure against any attempt at foreign aggression, we must try to find a way to bring this wealth of woods and ores down to the sea. "and then, perhaps, may begin the great prosperity of our land, of which we have all dreamt." she stopped, all vibrating, almost choked with emotion. we were all moved. for myself, i was thrilled to the core. her enthusiasm was all-sweeping, and under its influence i found my own imagination expanding. out of its experiences i spoke: "and there is a way. i can see it. whilst our dear voivodin was speaking, the way seemed to clear. i saw at the back of the blue mouth, where it goes deepest into the heart of the cliffs, the opening of a great tunnel, which ran upward over a steep slope till it debouched on the first plateau beyond the range of the encompassing cliffs. thither came by various rails of steep gradient, by timber-shoots and cable-rails, by aerial cables and precipitating tubes, wealth from over ground and under it; for as our land is all mountains, and as these tower up to the clouds, transport to the sea shall be easy and of little cost when once the machinery is established. as everything of much weight goes downward, the cars of the main tunnel of the port shall return upward without cost. we can have from the mountains a head of water under good control, which will allow of endless hydraulic power, so that the whole port and the mechanism of the town to which it will grow can be worked by it. "this work can be put in hand at once. so soon as the place shall be perfectly surveyed and the engineering plans got ready, we can start on the main tunnel, working from the sea-level up, so that the cost of the transport of material will be almost nil. this work can go on whilst the forts are building; no time need be lost. "moreover, may i add a word on national defence? we are, though old in honour, a young nation as to our place amongst great powers. and so we must show the courage and energy of a young nation. the empire of the air is not yet won. why should not we make a bid for it? as our mountains are lofty, so shall we have initial power of attack or defence. we can have, in chosen spots amongst the clouds, depots of war aeroplanes, with which we can descend and smite our enemies quickly on land or sea. we shall hope to live for peace; but woe to those who drive us to war!" there is no doubt that the vissarions are a warlike race. as i spoke, teuta took one of my hands and held it hard. the old voivode, his eyes blazing, rose and stood beside me and took the other. the two old fighting-men of the land and the sea stood up and saluted. this was the beginning of what ultimately became "the national committee of defence and development." i had other, and perhaps greater, plans for the future in my mind; but the time had not come for their utterance. to me it seems not only advisable, but necessary, that the utmost discretion be observed by all our little group, at all events for the present. there seems to be some new uneasiness in the blue mountains. there are constant meetings of members of the council, but no formal meeting of the council, as such, since the last one at which i was present. there is constant coming and going amongst the mountaineers, always in groups, small or large. teuta and i, who have been about very much on the aeroplane, have both noticed it. but somehow we--that is, the voivode and myself--are left out of everything; but we have not said as yet a word on the subject to any of the others. the voivode notices, but he says nothing; so i am silent, and teuta does whatever i ask. sir colin does not notice anything except the work he is engaged on--the planning the defences of the blue mouth. his old scientific training as an engineer, and his enormous experience of wars and sieges--for he was for nearly fifty years sent as military representative to all the great wars--seem to have become directed on that point. he is certainly planning it all out in a wonderful way. he consults rooke almost hourly on the maritime side of the question. the lord high admiral has been a watcher all his life, and very few important points have ever escaped him, so that he can add greatly to the wisdom of the defensive construction. he notices, i think, that something is going on outside ourselves; but he keeps a resolute silence. what the movement going on is i cannot guess. it is not like the uneasiness that went before the abduction of teuta and the voivode, but it is even more pronounced. that was an uneasiness founded on some suspicion. this is a positive thing, and has definite meaning--of some sort. we shall, i suppose, know all about it in good time. in the meantime we go on with our work. happily the whole blue mouth and the mountains round it are on my own property, the portion acquired long ago by uncle roger, exclusive of the vissarion estate. i asked the voivode to allow me to transfer it to him, but he sternly refused and forbade me, quite peremptorily, to ever open the subject to him again. "you have done enough already," he said. "were i to allow you to go further, i should feel mean. and i do not think you would like your wife's father to suffer that feeling after a long life, which he has tried to live in honour." i bowed, and said no more. so there the matter rests, and i have to take my own course. i have had a survey made, and on the head of it the tunnel to the harbour is begun. book viii: the flashing of the handjar private memorandum of the meeting of various members of the national council, held at the state house of the blue mountains at plazac on monday, august , . (_written by cristoferos_, _scribe of the council_, _by instruction of those present_.) when the private meeting of various members of the national council had assembled in the council hall of the state house at plazac, it was as a preliminary decided unanimously that now or hereafter no names of those present were to be mentioned, and that officials appointed for the purposes of this meeting should be designated by office only, the names of all being withheld. the proceedings assumed the shape of a general conversation, quite informal, and therefore not to be recorded. the nett outcome was the unanimous expression of an opinion that the time, long contemplated by very many persons throughout the nation, had now come when the constitution and machinery of the state should be changed; that the present form of ruling by an irregular council was not sufficient, and that a method more in accord with the spirit of the times should be adopted. to this end constitutional monarchy, such as that holding in great britain, seemed best adapted. finally, it was decided that each member of the council should make a personal canvass of his district, talk over the matter with his electors, and bring back to another meeting--or, rather, as it was amended, to this meeting postponed for a week, until september nd--the opinions and wishes received. before separating, the individual to be appointed king, in case the new idea should prove grateful to the nation, was discussed. the consensus of opinion was entirely to the effect that the voivode peter vissarion should, if he would accept the high office, be appointed. it was urged that, as his daughter, the voivodin teuta, was now married to the englishman, rupert sent leger--called generally by the mountaineers "the gospodar rupert"--a successor to follow the voivode when god should call him would be at hand--a successor worthy in every way to succeed to so illustrious a post. it was urged by several speakers, with general acquiescence, that already mr. sent leger's services to the state were such that he would be in himself a worthy person to begin the new dynasty; but that, as he was now allied to the voivode peter vissarion, it was becoming that the elder, born of the nation, should receive the first honour. the same--_continued_. the adjourned meeting of certain members of the national council was resumed in the hall of the state house at plazac on monday, september nd, . by motion the same chairman was appointed, and the rule regarding the record renewed. reports were made by the various members of the council in turn, according to the state roll. every district was represented. the reports were unanimously in favour of the new constitution, and it was reported by each and all of the councillors that the utmost enthusiasm marked in every case the suggestion of the voivode peter vissarion as the first king to be crowned under the new constitution, and that remainder should be settled on the gospodar rupert (the mountaineers would only receive his lawful name as an alternative; one and all said that he would be "rupert" to them and to the nation--for ever). the above matter having been satisfactorily settled, it was decided that a formal meeting of the national council should be held at the state house, plazac, in one week from to-day, and that the voivode peter vissarion should be asked to be in the state house in readiness to attend. it was also decided that instruction should be given to the high court of national law to prepare and have ready, in skeleton form, a rescript of the new constitution to be adopted, the same to be founded on the constitution and procedure of great britain, so far as the same may be applicable to the traditional ideas of free government in the land of the blue mountains. by unanimous vote this private and irregular meeting of "various national councillors" was then dissolved. record of the first meeting of the national council of the land of the blue mountains, held at plazac on monday, september th, , to consider the adoption of a new constitution, and to give permanent effect to the same if, and when, decided upon. (_kept by the monk cristoferos_, _scribe to the national council_.) the adjourned meeting duly took place as arranged. there was a full attendance of members of the council, together with the vladika, the archbishop, the archimandrites of spazac, of ispazar, of domitan, and astrag; the chancellor; the lord of the exchequer; the president of the high court of national law; the president of the council of justice; and such other high officials as it is customary to summon to meetings of the national council on occasions of great importance. the names of all present will be found in the full report, wherein are given the ipsissima verba of the various utterances made during the consideration of the questions discussed, the same having been taken down in shorthand by the humble scribe of this precis, which has been made for the convenience of members of the council and others. the voivode peter vissarion, obedient to the request of the council, was in attendance at the state house, waiting in the "chamber of the high officers" until such time as he should be asked to come before the council. the president put before the national council the matter of the new constitution, outlining the headings of it as drawn up by the high court of national law, and the constitution having been formally accepted _nem. con._ by the national council on behalf of the people, he proposed that the crown should be offered to the voivode peter vissarion, with remainder to the "gospodar rupert" (legally, rupert sent leger), husband of his only child, the voivodin teuta. this also was received with enthusiasm, and passed _nem. con._ thereupon the president of council, the archbishop, and the vladika, acting together as a deputation, went to pray the attention of the voivode peter vassarion. when the voivode entered, the whole council and officials stood up, and for a few seconds waited in respectful silence with heads bowed down. then, as if by a common impulse--for no word was spoken nor any signal given--they all drew their handjars, and stood to attention--with points raised and edges of the handjars to the front. the voivode stood very still. he seemed much moved, but controlled himself admirably. the only time when be seemed to lose his self-control was when, once again with a strange simultaneity, all present raised their handjars on high, and shouted: "hail, peter, king!" then lowering their points till these almost touched the ground, they once again stood with bowed heads. when he had quite mastered himself, the voivode peter vissarion spoke: "how can i, my brothers, sufficiently thank you, and, through you, the people of the blue mountains, for the honour done to me this day? in very truth it is not possible, and therefore i pray you to consider it as done, measuring my gratitude in the greatness of your own hearts. such honour as you offer to me is not contemplated by any man in whose mind a wholesome sanity rules, nor is it even the dream of fervent imagination. so great is it, that i pray you, men with hearts and minds like my own, to extend to me, as a further measure of your generosity, a little time to think it over. i shall not want long, for even already, with the blaze of honour fresh upon me, i see the cool shadow of duty, though his substance is yet hardly visible. give me but an hour of solitude--an hour at most--if it do not prolong this your session unduly. it may be that a lesser time will serve, but in any case i promise you that, when i can see a just and fitting issue to my thought, i shall at once return." the president of the council looked around him, and, seeing everywhere the bowing heads of acquiescence, spoke with a reverent gravity: "we shall wait in patience whatsoever time you will, and may the god who rules all worthy hearts guide you to his will!" and so in silence the voivode passed out of the hall. from my seat near a window i could watch him go, as with measured steps he passed up the hill which rises behind the state house, and disappeared into the shadow of the forest. then my work claimed me, for i wished to record the proceedings so far whilst all was fresh in my mind. in silence, as of the dead, the council waited, no man challenging opinion of his neighbour even by a glance. almost a full hour had elapsed when the voivode came again to the council, moving with slow and stately gravity, as has always been his wont since age began to hamper the movement which in youth had been so notable. the members of the council all stood up uncovered, and so remained while he made announcement of his conclusion. he spoke slowly; and as his answer was to be a valued record of this land and its race, i wrote down every word as uttered, leaving here and there space for description or comment, which spaces i have since then filled in. "lords of the national council, archbishop, vladika, lords of the council of justice and of national law, archimandrites, and my brothers all, i have, since i left you, held in the solitude of the forest counsel with myself--and with god; and he, in his gracious wisdom, has led my thinking to that conclusion which was from the first moment of knowledge of your intent presaged in my heart. brothers, you know--or else a long life has been spent in vain--that my heart and mind are all for the nation--my experience, my life, my handjar. and when all is for her, why should i shrink to exercise on her behalf my riper judgment though the same should have to combat my own ambition? for ten centuries my race has not failed in its duty. ages ago the men of that time trusted in the hands of my ancestors the kingship, even as now you, their children, trust me. but to me it would be base to betray that trust, even by the smallest tittle. that would i do were i to take the honour of the crown which you have tendered to me, so long as there is another more worthy to wear it. were there none other, i should place myself in your hands, and yield myself over to blind obedience of your desires. but such an one there is; dear to you already by his own deeds, now doubly dear to me, since he is my son by my daughter's love. he is young, whereas i am old. he is strong and brave and true; but my days of the usefulness of strength and bravery are over. for myself, i have long contemplated as the crown of my later years a quiet life in one of our monasteries, where i can still watch the whirl of the world around us on your behalf, and be a counsellor of younger men of more active minds. brothers, we are entering on stirring times. i can see the signs of their coming all around us. north and south--the old order and the new, are about to clash, and we lie between the opposing forces. true it is that the turk, after warring for a thousand years, is fading into insignificance. but from the north where conquests spring, have crept towards our balkans the men of a mightier composite power. their march has been steady; and as they came, they fortified every step of the way. now they are hard upon us, and are already beginning to swallow up the regions that we have helped to win from the dominion of mahound. the austrian is at our very gates. beaten back by the irredentists of italy, she has so enmeshed herself with the great powers of europe that she seems for the moment to be impregnable to a foe of our stature. there is but one hope for us--the uniting of the balkan forces to turn a masterly front to north and west as well as to south and east. is that a task for old hands to undertake? no; the hands must be young and supple; and the brain subtle, as well as the heart be strong, of whomsoever would dare such an accomplishment. should i accept the crown, it would only postpone the doing of that which must ultimately be done. what avail would it be if, when the darkness closes over me, my daughter should be queen consort to the first king of a new dynasty? you know this man, and from your record i learn that you are already willing to have him as king to follow me. why not begin with him? he comes of a great nation, wherein the principle of freedom is a vital principle that quickens all things. that nation has more than once shown to us its friendliness; and doubtless the very fact that an englishman would become our king, and could carry into our government the spirit and customs which have made his own country great, would do much to restore the old friendship, and even to create a new one, which would in times of trouble bring british fleets to our waters, and british bayonets to support our own handjars. it is within my own knowledge, though as yet unannounced to you, that rupert sent leger has already obtained a patent, signed by the king of england himself, allowing him to be denaturalized in england, so that he can at once apply for naturalization here. i know also that he has brought hither a vast fortune, by aid of which he is beginning to strengthen our hands for war, in case that sad eventuality should arise. witness his late ordering to be built nine other warships of the class that has already done such effective service in overthrowing the turk--or the pirate, whichever he may have been. he has undertaken the defence of the blue mouth at his own cost in a way which will make it stronger than gibraltar, and secure us against whatever use to which the austrian may apply the vast forces already gathered in the bocche di cattaro. he is already founding aerial stations on our highest peaks for use of the war aeroplanes which are being built for him. it is such a man as this who makes a nation great; and right sure i am that in his hands this splendid land and our noble, freedom-loving people will flourish and become a power in the world. then, brothers, let me, as one to whom this nation and its history and its future are dear, ask you to give to the husband of my daughter the honour which you would confer on me. for her i can speak as well as for myself. she shall suffer nothing in dignity either. were i indeed king, she, as my daughter, would be a princess of the world. as it will be, she shall be companion and queen of a great king, and her race, which is mine, shall flourish in all the lustre of the new dynasty. "therefore on all accounts, my brothers, for the sake of our dear land of the blue mountains, make the gospodar rupert, who has so proved himself, your king. and make me happy in my retirement to the cloister." when the voivode ceased to speak, all still remained silent and standing. but there was no mistaking their acquiescence in his most generous prayer. the president of the council well interpreted the general wish when he said: "lords of the national council, archbishop, vladika, lords of the councils of justice and national law, archimandrites, and all who are present, is it agreed that we prepare at leisure a fitting reply to the voivode peter of the historic house of vissarion, stating our agreement with his wish?" to which there was a unanimous answer: "it is." he went on: "further. shall we ask the gospodar rupert of the house of sent leger, allied through his marriage to the voivodin teuta, daughter and only child of the voivode peter of vissarion, to come hither to-morrow? and that, when he is amongst us, we confer on him the crown and kingship of the land of the blue mountains?" again came the answer: "it is." but this time it rang out like the sound of a gigantic trumpet, and the handjars flashed. whereupon the session was adjourned for the space of a day. the same--_continued_. _september_ , . when the national council met to-day the voivode peter vissarion sat with them, but well back, so that at first his presence was hardly noticeable. after the necessary preliminaries had been gone through, they requested the presence of the gospodar rupert--mr. rupert sent leger--who was reported as waiting in the "chamber of the high officers." he at once accompanied back to the hall the deputation sent to conduct him. as he made his appearance in the doorway the councillors stood up. there was a burst of enthusiasm, and the handjars flashed. for an instant he stood silent, with lifted hand, as though indicating that he wished to speak. so soon as this was recognized, silence fell on the assembly, and he spoke: "i pray you, may the voivodin teuta of vissarion, who has accompanied me hither, appear with me to hear your wishes?" there was an immediate and enthusiastic acquiescence, and, after bowing his thanks, he retired to conduct her. her appearance was received with an ovation similar to that given to gospodar rupert, to which she bowed with dignified sweetness. she, with her husband, was conducted to the top of the hall by the president, who came down to escort them. in the meantime another chair had been placed beside that prepared for the gospodar, and these two sat. the president then made the formal statement conveying to the "gospodar rupert" the wishes of the council, on behalf of the nation, to offer to him the crown and kingship of the land of the blue mountains. the message was couched in almost the same words as had been used the previous day in making the offer to the voivode peter vissarion, only differing to meet the special circumstances. the gospodar rupert listened in grave silence. the whole thing was manifestly quite new to him, but he preserved a self-control wonderful under the circumstances. when, having been made aware of the previous offer to the voivode and the declared wish of the latter, he rose to speak, there was stillness in the hall. he commenced with a few broken words of thanks; then he grew suddenly and strangely calm as he went on: "but before i can even attempt to make a fitting reply, i should know if it is contemplated to join with me in this great honour my dear wife the voivodin teuta of vissarion, who has so splendidly proved her worthiness to hold any place in the government of the land. i fain would . . . " he was interrupted by the voivodin, who, standing up beside him and holding his left arm, said: "do not, president, and lords all, think me wanting in that respect of a wife for husband which in the blue mountains we hold so dear, if i venture to interrupt my lord. i am here, not merely as a wife, but as voivodin of vissarion, and by the memory of all the noble women of that noble line i feel constrained to a great duty. we women of vissarion, in all the history of centuries, have never put ourselves forward in rivalry of our lords. well i know that my own dear lord will forgive me as wife if i err; but i speak to you, the council of the nation, from another ground and with another tongue. my lord does not, i fear, know as you do, and as i do too, that of old, in the history of this land, when kingship was existent, that it was ruled by that law of masculine supremacy which, centuries after, became known as the _lex salica_. lords of the council of the blue mountains, i am a wife of the blue mountains--as a wife young as yet, but with the blood of forty generations of loyal women in my veins. and it would ill become me, whom my husband honours--wife to the man whom you would honour--to take a part in changing the ancient custom which has been held in honour for all the thousand years, which is the glory of blue mountain womanhood. what an example such would be in an age when self-seeking women of other nations seek to forget their womanhood in the struggle to vie in equality with men! men of the blue mountains, i speak for our women when i say that we hold of greatest price the glory of our men. to be their companions is our happiness; to be their wives is the completion of our lives; to be mothers of their children is our share of the glory that is theirs. "therefore, i pray you, men of the blue mountains, let me but be as any other wife in our land, equal to them in domestic happiness, which is our woman's sphere; and if that priceless honour may be vouchsafed to me, and i be worthy and able to bear it, an exemplar of woman's rectitude." with a low, modest, graceful bow, she sat down. there was no doubt as to the reception of her renunciation of queenly dignity. there was more honour to her in the quick, fierce shout which arose, and the unanimous upward swing of the handjars, than in the wearing of any crown which could adorn the head of woman. the spontaneous action of the gospodar rupert was another source of joy to all--a fitting corollary to what had gone before. he rose to his feet, and, taking his wife in his arms, kissed her before all. then they sat down, with their chairs close, bashfully holding hands like a pair of lovers. then rupert arose--he is rupert now; no lesser name is on the lips of his people henceforth. with an intense earnestness which seemed to glow in his face, he said simply: "what can i say except that i am in all ways, now and for ever, obedient to your wishes?" then, raising his handjar and holding it before him, he kissed the hilt, saying: "hereby i swear to be honest and just--to be, god helping me, such a king as you would wish--in so far as the strength is given me. amen." this ended the business of the session, and the council showed unmeasured delight. again and again the handjars flashed, as the cheers rose "three times three" in british fashion. when rupert--i am told i must not write him down as "king rupert" until after the formal crowning, which is ordained for wednesday, october th,--and teuta had withdrawn, the voivode peter vissarion, the president and council conferred in committee with the presidents of the high courts of national law and of justice as to the formalities to be observed in the crowning of the king, and of the formal notification to be given to foreign powers. these proceedings kept them far into the night. from "_the london messenger_." coronation festivities of the blue mountains. (_from our special correspondent_.) plazac, _october_ , . as i sat down to a poorly-equipped luncheon-table on board the austro-orient liner _franz joseph_, i mourned in my heart (and i may say incidentally in other portions of my internal economy) the comfort and gastronomic luxury of the king and emperor hotel at trieste. a brief comparison between the menus of to-day's lunch and yesterday's will afford to the reader a striking object-lesson: _trieste_. _steamer_. eggs a la cocotte. scrambled eggs on toast. stewed chicken, with paprika. cold chicken. devilled slices of westphalian cold ham. ham (boiled in wine). tunny fish, pickled. bismarck herrings. rice, burst in cream. stewed apples. guava jelly. swiss cheese. consequence: yesterday i was well and happy, and looked forward to a good night's sleep, which came off. to-day i am dull and heavy, also restless, and i am convinced that at sleeping-time my liver will have it all its own way. the journey to ragusa, and thence to plazac, is writ large with a pigment of misery on at least one human heart. let a silence fall upon it! in such wise only can justice and mercy join hands. plazac is a miserable place. there is not a decent hotel in it. it was perhaps on this account that the new king, rupert, had erected for the alleged convenience of his guests of the press a series of large temporary hotels, such as were in evidence at the st. louis exposition. here each guest was given a room to himself, somewhat after the nature of the cribs in a rowton house. from my first night in it i am able to speak from experience of the sufferings of a prisoner of the third class. i am, however, bound to say that the dining and reception rooms were, though uncomfortably plain, adequate for temporary use. happily we shall not have to endure many more meals here, as to-morrow we all dine with the king in the state house; and as the cuisine is under the control of that _cordon bleu_, gaston de faux pas, who so long controlled the gastronomic (we might almost say gastonomic) destinies of the rois des diamants in the place vendome, we may, i think, look forward to not going to bed hungry. indeed, the anticipations formed from a survey of our meagre sleeping accommodation were not realized at dinnertime to-night. to our intense astonishment, an excellent dinner was served, though, to be sure, the cold dishes predominated (a thing i always find bad for one's liver). just as we were finishing, the king (nominated) came amongst us in quite an informal way, and, having bidden us a hearty welcome, asked that we should drink a glass of wine together. this we did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of cliquot ' . king rupert (nominated) then asked us to resume our seats. he walked between the tables, now and again recognizing some journalistic friend whom he had met early in life in his days of adventure. the men spoken to seemed vastly pleased--with themselves probably. pretty bad form of them, i call it! for myself, i was glad i had not previously met him in the same casual way, as it saved me from what i should have felt a humiliation--the being patronized in that public way by a prospective king who had not (in a court sense) been born. the writer, who is by profession a barrister-at-law, is satisfied at being himself a county gentleman and heir to an historic estate in the ancient county of salop, which can boast a larger population than the land of the blue mountains. editorial note.--we must ask our readers to pardon the report in yesterday's paper sent from plazac. the writer was not on our regular staff, but asked to be allowed to write the report, as he was a kinsman of king rupert of the blue mountains, and would therefore be in a position to obtain special information and facilities of description "from inside," as he puts it. on reading the paper, we cabled his recall; we cabled also, in case he did not obey, to have his ejectment effected forthwith. we have also cabled mr. mordred booth, the well-known correspondent, who was, to our knowledge, in plazac for his own purposes, to send us full (and proper) details. we take it our readers will prefer a graphic account of the ceremony to a farrago of cheap menus, comments on his own liver, and a belittling of an englishman of such noble character and achievements that a rising nation has chosen him for their king, and one whom our own nation loves to honour. we shall not, of course, mention our abortive correspondent's name, unless compelled thereto by any future utterance of his. from "_the london messenger_." the coronation of king rupert of the blue mountains. (_by our special correspondent_, _mordred booth_.) plazac, _october_ , . plazac does not boast of a cathedral or any church of sufficient dimensions for a coronation ceremony on an adequate scale. it was therefore decided by the national council, with the consent of the king, that it should be held at the old church of st. sava at vissarion--the former home of the queen. accordingly, arrangements had been made to bring thither on the warships on the morning of the coronation the whole of the nation's guests. in st. sava's the religious ceremony would take place, after which there would be a banquet in the castle of vissarion. the guests would then return on the warships to plazac, where would be held what is called here the "national coronation." in the land of the blue mountains it was customary in the old days, when there were kings, to have two ceremonies--one carried out by the official head of the national church, the greek church; the other by the people in a ritual adopted by themselves, on much the same basis as the germanic folk-moot. the blue mountains is a nation of strangely loyal tendencies. what was a thousand years ago is to be to-day--so far, of course, as is possible under the altered condition of things. the church of st. sava is very old and very beautiful, built in the manner of old greek churches, full of monuments of bygone worthies of the blue mountains. but, of course, neither it nor the ceremony held in it to-day can compare in splendour with certain other ceremonials--for instance, the coronation of the penultimate czar in moscow, of alfonso xii. in madrid, of carlos i. in lisbon. the church was arranged much after the fashion of westminster abbey for the coronation of king edward vii., though, of course, not so many persons present, nor so much individual splendour. indeed, the number of those present, outside those officially concerned and the press of the world, was very few. the most striking figure present--next to king rupert, who is seven feet high and a magnificent man--was the queen consort, teuta. she sat in front of a small gallery erected for the purpose just opposite the throne. she is a strikingly beautiful woman, tall and finely-formed, with jet-black hair and eyes like black diamonds, but with the unique quality that there are stars in them which seem to take varied colour according to each strong emotion. but it was not even her beauty or the stars in her eyes which drew the first glance of all. these details showed on scrutiny, but from afar off the attractive point was her dress. surely never before did woman, be she queen or peasant, wear such a costume on a festive occasion. she was dressed in a white _shroud_, and in that only. i had heard something of the story which goes behind that strange costume, and shall later on send it to you. { } when the procession entered the church through the great western door, the national song of the blue mountains, "guide our feet through darkness, o jehovah," was sung by an unseen choir, in which the organ, supplemented by martial instruments, joined. the archbishop was robed in readiness before the altar, and close around him stood the archimandrites of the four great monasteries. the vladika stood in front of the members of the national council. a little to one side of this body was a group of high officials, presidents of the councils of national law and justice, the chancellor, etc.--all in splendid robes of great antiquity--the high marshall of the forces and the lord high admiral. when all was ready for the ceremonial act of coronation, the archbishop raised his hand, whereupon the music ceased. turning around, so that he faced the queen, who thereon stood up, the king drew his handjar and saluted her in blue mountain fashion--the point raised as high possible, and then dropped down till it almost touches the ground. every man in the church, ecclesiastics and all, wear the handjar, and, following the king by the interval of a second, their weapons flashed out. there was something symbolic, as well as touching, in this truly royal salute, led by the king. his handjar is a mighty blade, and held high in the hands of a man of his stature, it overtowered everything in the church. it was an inspiriting sight. no one who saw will ever forget that noble flashing of blades in the thousand-year-old salute . . . the coronation was short, simple, and impressive. rupert knelt whilst the archbishop, after a short, fervent prayer, placed on his head the bronze crown of the first king of the blue mountains, peter. this was handed to him by the vladika, to whom it was brought from the national treasury by a procession of the high officers. a blessing of the new king and his queen teuta concluded the ceremony. rupert's first act on rising from his knees was to draw his handjar and salute his people. after the ceremony in st. sava, the procession was reformed, and took its way to the castle of vissarion, which is some distance off across a picturesque creek, bounded on either side by noble cliffs of vast height. the king led the way, the queen walking with him and holding his hand . . . the castle of vissarion is of great antiquity, and picturesque beyond belief. i am sending later on, as a special article, a description of it . . . the "coronation feast," as it was called on the menu, was held in the great hall, which is of noble proportions. i enclose copy of the menu, as our readers may wish to know something of the details of such a feast in this part of the world. one feature of the banquet was specially noticeable. as the national officials were guests of the king and queen, they were waited on and served by the king and queen in person. the rest of the guests, including us of the press, were served by the king's household, not the servants--none of that cult were visible--but by the ladies and gentlemen of the court. there was only one toast, and that was given by the king, all standing: "the land of the blue mountains, and may we all do our duty to the land we love!" before drinking, his mighty handjar flashed out again, and in an instant every table at which the blue mountaineers sat was ringed with flashing steel. i may add parenthetically that the handjar is essentially the national weapon. i do not know if the blue mountaineers take it to bed with them, but they certainly wear it everywhere else. its drawing seems to emphasize everything in national life . . . we embarked again on the warships--one a huge, steel-plated dreadnought, up to date in every particular, the other an armoured yacht most complete in every way, and of unique speed. the king and queen, the lords of the council, together with the various high ecclesiastics and great officials, went on the yacht, which the lord high admiral, a man of remarkably masterful physiognomy, himself steered. the rest of those present at the coronation came on the warship. the latter went fast, but the yacht showed her heels all the way. however, the king's party waited in the dock in the blue mouth. from this a new cable-line took us all to the state house at plazac. here the procession was reformed, and wound its way to a bare hill in the immediate vicinity. the king and queen--the king still wearing the ancient bronze crown with which the archbishop had invested him at st. sava's--the archbishop, the vladika, and the four archimandrites stood together at the top of the hill, the king and queen being, of course, in the front. a courteous young gentleman, to whom i had been accredited at the beginning of the day--all guests were so attended--explained to me that, as this was the national as opposed to the religious ceremony, the vladika, who is the official representative of the laity, took command here. the ecclesiastics were put prominently forward, simply out of courtesy, in obedience to the wish of the people, by whom they were all greatly beloved. then commenced another unique ceremony, which, indeed, might well find a place in our western countries. as far as ever we could see were masses of men roughly grouped, not in any uniform, but all in national costume, and armed only with the handjar. in the front of each of these groups or bodies stood the national councillor for that district, distinguishable by his official robe and chain. there were in all seventeen of these bodies. these were unequal in numbers, some of them predominating enormously over others, as, indeed, might be expected in so mountainous a country. in all there were present, i was told, over a hundred thousand men. so far as i can judge from long experience of looking at great bodies of men, the estimate was a just one. i was a little surprised to see so many, for the population of the blue mountains is never accredited in books of geography as a large one. when i made inquiry as to how the frontier guard was being for the time maintained, i was told: "by the women mainly. but, all the same, we have also a male guard which covers the whole frontier except that to seaward. each man has with him six women, so that the whole line is unbroken. moreover, sir, you must bear in mind that in the blue mountains our women are trained to arms as well as our men--ay, and they could give a good account of themselves, too, against any foe that should assail us. our history shows what women can do in defence. i tell you, the turkish population would be bigger to-day but for the women who on our frontier fought of old for defence of their homes!" "no wonder this nation has kept her freedom for a thousand years!" i said. at a signal given by the president of the national council one of the divisions moved forwards. it was not an ordinary movement, but an intense rush made with all the _elan_ and vigour of hardy and highly-trained men. they came on, not merely at the double, but as if delivering an attack. handjar in hand, they rushed forward. i can only compare their rush to an artillery charge or to an attack of massed cavalry battalions. it was my fortune to see the former at magenta and the latter at sadowa, so that i know what such illustration means. i may also say that i saw the relief column which roberts organized rush through a town on its way to relieve mafeking; and no one who had the delight of seeing that inspiring progress of a flying army on their way to relieve their comrades needs to be told what a rush of armed men can be. with speed which was simply desperate they ran up the hill, and, circling to the left, made a ring round the topmost plateau, where stood the king. when the ring was complete, the stream went on lapping round and round till the whole tally was exhausted. in the meantime another division had followed, its leader joining close behind the end of the first. then came another and another. an unbroken line circled and circled round the hill in seeming endless array, till the whole slopes were massed with moving men, dark in colour, and with countless glittering points everywhere. when the whole of the divisions had thus surrounded the king, there was a moment's hush--a silence so still that it almost seemed as if nature stood still also. we who looked on were almost afraid to breathe. then suddenly, without, so far as i could see, any fugleman or word of command, the handjars of all that mighty array of men flashed upward as one, and like thunder pealed the national cry: "the blue mountains and duty!" after the cry there was a strange subsidence which made the onlooker rub his eyes. it seemed as though the whole mass of fighting men had partially sunk into the ground. then the splendid truth burst upon us--the whole nation was kneeling at the feet of their chosen king, who stood upright. another moment of silence, as king rupert, taking off his crown, held it up in his left hand, and, holding his great handjar high in his right, cried in a voice so strong that it came ringing over that serried mass like a trumpet: "to freedom of our nation, and to freedom within it, i dedicate these and myself. i swear!" so saying, he, too, sank on his knees, whilst we all instinctively uncovered. the silence which followed lasted several seconds; then, without a sign, as though one and all acted instinctively, the whole body stood up. thereupon was executed a movement which, with all my experience of soldiers and war, i never saw equalled--not with the russian royal guard saluting the czar at his coronation, not with an impi of cetewayo's zulus whirling through the opening of a kraal. for a second or two the whole mass seemed to writhe or shudder, and then, lo! the whole district divisions were massed again in completeness, its councillors next the king, and the divisions radiating outwards down the hill like wedges. this completed the ceremony, and everything broke up into units. later, i was told by my official friend that the king's last movement--the oath as he sank to his knees--was an innovation of his own. all i can say is, if, in the future, and for all time, it is not taken for a precedent, and made an important part of the patriotic coronation ceremony, the blue mountaineers will prove themselves to be a much more stupid people than they seem at present to be. the conclusion of the coronation festivities was a time of unalloyed joy. it was the banquet given to the king and queen by the nation; the guests of the nation were included in the royal party. it was a unique ceremony. fancy a picnic-party of a hundred thousand persons, nearly all men. there must have been made beforehand vast and elaborate preparations, ramifying through the whole nation. each section had brought provisions sufficient for their own consumption in addition to several special dishes for the guest-tables; but the contribution of each section was not consumed by its own members. it was evidently a part of the scheme that all should derive from a common stock, so that the feeling of brotherhood and common property should be preserved in this monumental fashion. the guest-tables were the only tables to be seen. the bulk of the feasters sat on the ground. the tables were brought forward by the men themselves--no such thing as domestic service was known on this day--from a wood close at hand, where they and the chairs had been placed in readiness. the linen and crockery used had been sent for the purpose from the households of every town and village. the flowers were plucked in the mountains early that morning by the children, and the gold and silver plate used for adornment were supplied from the churches. each dish at the guest-tables was served by the men of each section in turn. over the whole array seemed to be spread an atmosphere of joyousness, of peace, of brotherhood. it would be impossible to adequately describe that amazing scene, a whole nation of splendid men surrounding their new king and queen, loving to honour and serve them. scattered about through that vast crowd were groups of musicians, chosen from amongst themselves. the space covered by this titanic picnic was so vast that there were few spots from which you could hear music proceeding from different quarters. after dinner we all sat and smoked; the music became rather vocal than instrumental--indeed, presently we did not hear the sound of any instrument at all. only knowing a few words of balkan, i could not follow the meanings of the songs, but i gathered that they were all legendary or historical. to those who could understand, as i was informed by my tutelary young friend, who stayed beside me the whole of this memorable day, we were listening to the history of the land of the blue mountains in ballad form. somewhere or other throughout that vast concourse each notable record of ten centuries was being told to eager ears. it was now late in the day. slowly the sun had been dropping down over the calabrian mountains, and the glamorous twilight was stealing over the immediate scene. no one seemed to notice the coming of the dark, which stole down on us with an unspeakable mystery. for long we sat still, the clatter of many tongues becoming stilled into the witchery of the scene. lower the sun sank, till only the ruddiness of the afterglow lit the expanse with rosy light; then this failed in turn, and the night shut down quickly. at last, when we could just discern the faces close to us, a simultaneous movement began. lights began to flash out in places all over the hillside. at first these seemed as tiny as glow-worms seen in a summer wood, but by degrees they grew till the space was set with little circles of light. these in turn grew and grew in both number and strength. flames began to leap out from piles of wood, torches were lighted and held high. then the music began again, softly at first, but then louder as the musicians began to gather to the centre, where sat the king and queen. the music was wild and semi-barbaric, but full of sweet melody. it somehow seemed to bring before us a distant past; one and all, according to the strength of our imagination and the volume of our knowledge, saw episodes and phases of bygone history come before us. there was a wonderful rhythmic, almost choric, force in the time kept, which made it almost impossible to sit still. it was an invitation to the dance such as i had never before heard in any nation or at any time. then the lights began to gather round. once more the mountaineers took something of the same formation as at the crowning. where the royal party sat was a level mead, with crisp, short grass, and round it what one might well call the ring of the nation was formed. the music grew louder. each mountaineer who had not a lit torch already lighted one, and the whole rising hillside was a glory of light. the queen rose, and the king an instant after. as they rose men stepped forward and carried away their chairs, or rather thrones. the queen gave the king her hand--this is, it seems, the privilege of the wife as distinguished from any other woman. their feet took the time of the music, and they moved into the centre of the ring. that dance was another thing to remember, won from the haunting memories of that strange day. at first the king and queen danced all alone. they began with stately movement, but as the music quickened their feet kept time, and the swing of their bodies with movements kept growing more and more ecstatic at every beat till, in true balkan fashion, the dance became a very agony of passionate movement. at this point the music slowed down again, and the mountaineers began to join in the dance. at first slowly, one by one, they joined in, the vladika and the higher priests leading; then everywhere the whole vast crowd began to dance, till the earth around us seemed to shake. the lights quivered, flickered, blazed out again, and rose and fell as that hundred thousand men, each holding a torch, rose and fell with the rhythm of the dance. quicker, quicker grew the music, faster grew the rushing and pounding of the feet, till the whole nation seemed now in an ecstasy. i stood near the vladika, and in the midst of this final wildness i saw him draw from his belt a short, thin flute; then he put it to his lips and blew a single note--a fierce, sharp note, which pierced the volume of sound more surely than would the thunder of a cannon-shot. on the instant everywhere each man put his torch under his foot. there was complete and immediate darkness, for the fires, which had by now fallen low, had evidently been trodden out in the measure of the dance. the music still kept in its rhythmic beat, but slower than it had yet been. little by little this beat was pointed and emphasized by the clapping of hands--at first only a few, but spreading till everyone present was beating hands to the slow music in the darkness. this lasted a little while, during which, looking round, i noticed a faint light beginning to steal up behind the hills. the moon was rising. again there came a note from the vladika's flute--a single note, sweet and subtle, which i can only compare with a note from a nightingale, vastly increased in powers. it, too, won through the thunder of the hand-claps, and on the second the sound ceased. the sudden stillness, together with the darkness, was so impressive that we could almost hear our hearts beating. and then came through the darkness the most beautiful and impressive sound heard yet. that mighty concourse, without fugleman of any sort, began, in low, fervent voice, to sing the national anthem. at first it was of so low tone as to convey the idea of a mighty assembly of violinists playing with the mutes on. but it gradually rose till the air above us seemed to throb and quiver. each syllable--each word--spoken in unison by the vast throng was as clearly enunciated as though spoken by a single voice: "guide our feet through darkness, o jehovah." this anthem, sung out of full hearts, remains on our minds as the last perfection of a perfect day. for myself, i am not ashamed to own that it made me weep like a child. indeed, i cannot write of it now as i would; it unmans me so! * * * * * in the early morning, whilst the mountains were still rather grey than blue, the cable-line took us to the blue mouth, where we embarked in the king's yacht, _the lady_, which took us across the adriatic at a pace which i had hitherto considered impossible. the king and queen came to the landing to see us off. they stood together at the right-hand side of the red-carpeted gangway, and shook hands with each guest as he went on board. the instant the last passenger had stepped on deck the gangway was withdrawn. the lord high admiral, who stood on the bridge, raised his hand, and we swept towards the mouth of the gulf. of course, all hats were off, and we cheered frantically. i can truly say that if king rupert and queen teuta should ever wish to found in the blue mountains a colony of diplomatists and journalists, those who were their guests on this great occasion will volunteer to a man. i think old hempetch, who is the doyen of english-speaking journalists, voiced our sentiments when he said: "may god bless them and theirs with every grace and happiness, and send prosperity to the land and the rule!" i think the king and queen heard us cheer, they turned to look at our flying ship again. book ix: balka rupert's journal--_continued_ (_longe intervallo_). _february_ , . it is so long since i even thought of this journal that i hardly know where to begin. i always heard that a married man is a pretty busy man; but since i became one, though it is a new life to me, and of a happiness undreamt of, i _know_ what that life is. but i had no idea that this king business was anything like what it is. why, it never leaves me a moment at all to myself--or, what is worse, to teuta. if people who condemn kings had only a single month of my life in that capacity, they would form an opinion different from that which they hold. it might be useful to have a professor of kingship in the anarchists' college--whenever it is founded! everything has gone on well with us, i am glad to say. teuta is in splendid health, though she has--but only very lately--practically given up going on her own aeroplane. it was, i know, a great sacrifice to make, just as she had become an expert at it. they say here that she is one of the best drivers in the blue mountains--and that is in the world, for we have made that form of movement our own. ever since we found the pitch-blende pockets in the great tunnel, and discovered the simple process of extracting the radium from it, we have gone on by leaps and bounds. when first teuta told me she would "aero" no more for a while, i thought she was wise, and backed her up in it: for driving an aeroplane is trying work and hard on the nerves. i only learned then the reason for her caution--the usual one of a young wife. that was three months ago, and only this morning she told me she would not go sailing in the air, even with me, till she could do so "without risk"--she did not mean risk to herself. aunt janet knew what she meant, and counselled her strongly to stick to her resolution. so for the next few months i am to do my air-sailing alone. the public works which we began immediately after the coronation are going strong. we began at the very beginning on an elaborate system. the first thing was to adequately fortify the blue mouth. whilst the fortifications were being constructed we kept all the warships in the gulf. but when the point of safety was reached, we made the ships do sentry-go along the coast, whilst we trained men for service at sea. it is our plan to take by degrees all the young men and teach them this wise, so that at the end the whole population shall be trained for sea as well as for land. and as we are teaching them the airship service, too, they will be at home in all the elements--except fire, of course, though if that should become a necessity, we shall tackle it too! we started the great tunnel at the farthest inland point of the blue mouth, and ran it due east at an angle of degrees, so that, when complete, it would go right through the first line of hills, coming out on the plateau plazac. the plateau is not very wide--half a mile at most--and the second tunnel begins on the eastern side of it. this new tunnel is at a smaller angle, as it has to pierce the second hill--a mountain this time. when it comes out on the east side of that, it will tap the real productive belt. here it is that our hardwood-trees are finest, and where the greatest mineral deposits are found. this plateau is of enormous length, and runs north arid south round the great bulk of the central mountain, so that in time, when we put up a circular railway, we can bring, at a merely nominal cost, all sorts of material up or down. it is on this level that we have built the great factories for war material. we are tunnelling into the mountains, where are the great deposits of coal. we run the trucks in and out on the level, and can get perfect ventilation with little cost or labour. already we are mining all the coal which we consume within our own confines, and we can, if we wish, within a year export largely. the great slopes of these tunnels give us the necessary aid of specific gravity, and as we carry an endless water-supply in great tubes that way also, we can do whatever we wish by hydraulic power. as one by one the european and asiatic nations began to reduce their war preparations, we took over their disbanded workmen though our agents, so that already we have a productive staff of skilled workmen larger than anywhere else in the world. i think myself that we were fortunate in being able to get ahead so fast with our preparations for war manufacture, for if some of the "great powers," as they call themselves, knew the measure of our present production, they would immediately try to take active measures against us. in such case we should have to fight them, which would delay us. but if we can have another year untroubled, we shall, so far as war material is concerned, be able to defy any nation in the world. and if the time may only come peacefully till we have our buildings and machinery complete, we can prepare war-stores and implements for the whole balkan nations. and then--but that is a dream. we shall know in good time. in the meantime all goes well. the cannon foundries are built and active. we are already beginning to turn out finished work. of course, our first guns are not very large, but they are good. the big guns, and especially siege-guns, will come later. and when the great extensions are complete, and the boring and wire-winding machines are in working order, we can go merrily on. i suppose that by that time the whole of the upper plateau will be like a manufacturing town--at any rate, we have plenty of raw material to hand. the haematite mines seem to be inexhaustible, and as the raising of the ore is cheap and easy by means of our extraordinary water-power, and as coal comes down to the plateau by its own gravity on the cable-line, we have natural advantages which exist hardly anywhere else in the world--certainly not all together, as here. that bird's eye view of the blue mouth which we had from the aeroplane when teuta saw that vision of the future has not been in vain. the aeroplane works are having a splendid output. the aeroplane is a large and visible product; there is no mistaking when it is there! we have already a large and respectable aerial fleet. the factories for explosives are, of course, far away in bare valleys, where accidental effects are minimized. so, too, are the radium works, wherein unknown dangers may lurk. the turbines in the tunnel give us all the power we want at present, and, later on, when the new tunnel, which we call the "water tunnel," which is already begun, is complete, the available power will be immense. all these works are bringing up our shipping, and we are in great hopes for the future. so much for our material prosperity. but with it comes a larger life and greater hopes. the stress of organizing and founding these great works is practically over. as they are not only self-supporting, but largely productive, all anxiety in the way of national expenditure is minimized. and, more than all, i am able to give my unhampered attention to those matters of even more than national importance on which the ultimate development, if not the immediate strength, of our country must depend. i am well into the subject of a great balkan federation. this, it turns out, has for long been the dream of teuta's life, as also that of the present archimandrite of plazac, her father, who, since i last touched this journal, having taken on himself a holy life, was, by will of the church, the monks, and the people, appointed to that great office on the retirement of petrof vlastimir. such a federation had long been in the air. for myself, i had seen its inevitableness from the first. the modern aggressions of the dual nation, interpreted by her past history with regard to italy, pointed towards the necessity of such a protective measure. and now, when servia and bulgaria were used as blinds to cover her real movements to incorporate with herself as established the provinces, once turkish, which had been entrusted to her temporary protection by the treaty of berlin; when it would seem that montenegro was to be deprived for all time of the hope of regaining the bocche di cattaro, which she had a century ago won, and held at the point of the sword, until a great power had, under a wrong conviction, handed it over to her neighbouring goliath; when the sandjack of novi-bazar was threatened with the fate which seemed to have already overtaken bosnia and herzegovina; when gallant little montenegro was already shut out from the sea by the octopus-like grip of dalmatia crouching along her western shore; when turkey was dwindling down to almost ineptitude; when greece was almost a byword, and when albania as a nation--though still nominally subject--was of such unimpaired virility that there were great possibilities of her future, it was imperative that something must happen if the balkan race was not to be devoured piecemeal by her northern neighbours. to the end of ultimate protection i found most of them willing to make defensive alliance. and as the true defence consists in judicious attack, i have no doubt that an alliance so based must ultimately become one for all purposes. albania was the most difficult to win to the scheme, as her own complications with her suzerain, combined with the pride and suspiciousness of her people, made approach a matter of extreme caution. it was only possible when i could induce her rulers to see that, no matter how great her pride and valour, the magnitude of northern advance, if unchecked, must ultimately overwhelm her. i own that this map-making was nervous work, for i could not shut my eyes to the fact that german lust of enlargement lay behind austria's advance. at and before that time expansion was the dominant idea of the three great powers of central europe. russia went eastward, hoping to gather to herself the rich north-eastern provinces of china, till ultimately she should dominate the whole of northern europe and asia from the gulf of finland to the yellow sea. germany wished to link the north sea to the mediterranean by her own territory, and thus stand as a flawless barrier across europe from north to south. when nature should have terminated the headship of the empire-kingdom, she, as natural heir, would creep southward through the german-speaking provinces. thus austria, of course kept in ignorance of her neighbour's ultimate aims, had to extend towards the south. she had been barred in her western movement by the rise of the irredentist party in italy, and consequently had to withdraw behind the frontiers of carinthia, carniola, and istria. my own dream of the new map was to make "balka"--the balkan federation--take in ultimately all south of a line drawn from the isle of serpents to aquileia. there would--must--be difficulties in the carrying out of such a scheme. of course, it involved austria giving up dalmatia, istria, and sclavonia, as well as a part of croatia and the hungarian banat. on the contrary, she might look for centuries of peace in the south. but it would make for peace so strongly that each of the states impinging on it would find it worth while to make a considerable sacrifice to have it effected. to its own integers it would offer a lasting settlement of interests which at present conflicted, and a share in a new world-power. each of these integers would be absolutely self-governing and independent, being only united for purposes of mutual good. i did not despair that even turkey and greece, recognizing that benefit and safety would ensue without the destruction or even minimizing of individuality, would, sooner or later, come into the federation. the matter is already so far advanced that within a month the various rulers of the states involved are to have a secret and informal meeting. doubtless some larger plan and further action will be then evolved. it will be an anxious time for all in this zone--and outside it--till this matter is all settled. in any case, the manufacture of war material will go on until it is settled, one way or another. rupert's journal--_continued_. _march_ , . i breathe more freely. the meeting has taken place here at vissarion. nominal cause of meeting: a hunting-party in the blue mountains. not any formal affair. not a chancellor or secretary of state or diplomatist of any sort present. all headquarters. it was, after all, a real hunting-party. good sportsmen, plenty of game, lots of beaters, everything organized properly, and an effective tally of results. i think we all enjoyed ourselves in the matter of sport; and as the political result was absolute unanimity of purpose and intention, there could be no possible cause of complaint. so it is all decided. everything is pacific. there is not a suggestion even of war, revolt, or conflicting purpose of any kind. we all go on exactly as we are doing for another year, pursuing our own individual objects, just as at present. but we are all to see that in our own households order prevails. all that is supposed to be effective is to be kept in good working order, and whatever is, at present, not adequate to possibilities is to be made so. this is all simply protective and defensive. we understand each other. but if any hulking stranger should undertake to interfere in our domestic concerns, we shall all unite on the instant to keep things as we wish them to remain. we shall be ready. alfred's maxim of peace shall be once more exemplified. in the meantime the factories shall work overtime in our own mountains, and the output shall be for the general good of our special community--the bill to be settled afterwards amicably. there can hardly be any difference of opinion about that, as the others will be the consumers of our surplus products. we are the producers, who produce for ourselves first, and then for the limited market of those within the ring. as we undertake to guard our own frontiers--sea and land--and are able to do so, the goods are to be warehoused in the blue mountains until required--if at all--for participation in the markets of the world, and especially in the european market. if all goes well and the markets are inactive, the goods shall be duly delivered to the purchasers as arranged. so much for the purely mercantile aspect. the voivodin janet mackelpie's notes. _may_ , . as rupert began to neglect his journal when he was made a king, so, too, i find in myself a tendency to leave writing to other people. but one thing i shall not be content to leave to others--little rupert. the baby of rupert and teuta is much too precious a thing to be spoken of except with love, quite independent of the fact that he will be, in natural course, a king! so i have promised teuta that whatever shall be put into this record of the first king of the sent leger dynasty relating to his royal highness the crown prince shall only appear in either her hand or my own. and she has deputed the matter to me. our dear little prince arrived punctually and in perfect condition. the angels that carried him evidently took the greatest care of him, and before they left him they gave him dower of all their best. he is a dear! like both his father and his mother, and that says everything. my own private opinion is that he is a born king! he does not know what fear is, and he thinks more of everyone else than he does of his dear little self. and if those things do not show a truly royal nature, i do not know what does . . . teuta has read this. she held up a warning finger, and said: "aunt janet dear, that is all true. he is a dear, and a king, and an angel! but we mustn't have too much about him just yet. this book is to be about rupert. so our little man can only be what we shall call a corollary." and so it is. i should mention here that the book is teuta's idea. before little rupert came she controlled herself wonderfully, doing only what was thought best for her under the circumstances. as i could see that it would be a help for her to have some quiet occupation which would interest her without tiring her, i looked up (with his permission, of course) all rupert's old letters and diaries, and journals and reports--all that i had kept for him during his absences on his adventures. at first i was a little afraid they might harm her, for at times she got so excited over some things that i had to caution her. here again came in her wonderful self-control. i think the most soothing argument i used with her was to point out that the dear boy had come through all the dangers safely, and was actually with us, stronger and nobler than ever. after we had read over together the whole matter several times--for it was practically new to me too, and i got nearly as excited as she was, though i have known him so much longer--we came to the conclusion that this particular volume would have to be of selected matter. there is enough of rupert's work to make a lot of volumes and we have an ambitious literary project of some day publishing an _edition de luxe_ of his whole collected works. it will be a rare showing amongst the works of kings. but this is to be all about himself, so that in the future it may serve as a sort of backbone of his personal history. by-and-by we came to a part when we had to ask him questions; and he was so interested in teuta's work--he is really bound up body and soul in his beautiful wife, and no wonder--that we had to take him into full confidence. he promised he would help us all he could by giving us the use of his later journals, and such letters and papers as he had kept privately. he said he would make one condition--i use his own words: "as you two dear women are to be my editors, you must promise to put in everything exactly as i wrote it. it will not do to have any fake about this. i do not wish anything foolish or egotistical toned down out of affection for me. it was all written in sincerity, and if i had faults, they must not be hidden. if it is to be history, it must be true history, even if it gives you and me or any of us away." so we promised. he also said that, as sir edward bingham trent, bart.--as he is now--was sure to have some matter which we should like, he would write and ask him to send such to us. he also said that mr. ernest roger halbard melton, of humcroft, salop (he always gives this name and address in full, which is his way of showing contempt), would be sure to have some relevant matter, and that he would have him written to on the subject. this he did. the chancellor wrote him in his most grandiloquent style. mr. e. r. h. melton, of h., s., replied by return post. his letter is a document which speaks for itself: humcroft, salop, _may_ , . my dear cousin king rupert, i am honoured by the request made on your behalf by the lord high chancellor of your kingdom that i should make a literary contribution to the volume which my cousin, queen teuta, is, with the help of your former governess, miss mackelpie, compiling. i am willing to do so, as you naturally wish to have in that work some contemporary record made by the head of the house of melton, with which you are connected, though only on the distaff side. it is a natural ambition enough, even on the part of a barbarian--or perhaps semi-barbarian--king, and far be it from me, as head of the house, to deny you such a coveted privilege. perhaps you may not know that i am now head of the house; my father died three days ago. i offered my mother the use of the dower house--to the incumbency of which, indeed, she is entitled by her marriage settlement. but she preferred to go to live at her seat, carfax, in kent. she went this morning after the funeral. in letting you have the use of my manuscript i make only one stipulation, but that i expect to be rigidly adhered to. it is that all that i have written be put in the book _in extenso_. i do not wish any record of mine to be garbled to suit other ends than those ostensible, or whatever may be to the honour of myself or my house to be burked. i dare say you have noticed, my dear rupert, that the compilers of family histories often, through jealousy, alter matter that they are allowed to use so as to suit their own purpose or minister to their own vanity. i think it right to tell you that i have had a certified copy made by petter and galpin, the law stationers, so that i shall be able to verify whether my stipulation has been honourably observed. i am having the book, which is naturally valuable, carefully packed, and shall have it forwarded to sir edward bingham trent, baronet (which he now is--heaven save the mark!), the attorney. please see that he returns it to me, and in proper order. he is not to publish for himself anything in it about him. a man of that class is apt to advertise the fact of anyone of distinction taking any notice of him. i would bring out the ms. to you myself, and stay for a while with you for some sport, only your lot--subjects i suppose you call them!--are such bounders that a gentleman's life is hardly safe amongst them. i never met anyone who had so poor an appreciation of a joke as they have. by the way, how is teuta? she is one of them. i heard all about the hatching business. i hope the kid is all right. this is only a word in your ear, so don't get cocky, old son. i am open to a godfathership. think of that, hedda! of course, if the other godfather and the godmother are up to the mark; i don't want to have to boost up the whole lot! savvy? kiss teuta and the kid for me. i must have the boy over here for a bit later on--when he is presentable, and has learned not to be a nuisance. it will be good for him to see something of a real first-class english country house like humcroft. to a person only accustomed to rough ways and meagre living its luxury will make a memory which will serve in time as an example to be aimed at. i shall write again soon. don't hesitate to ask any favour which i may be able to confer on you. so long! your affectionate cousin, ernest roger halbard melton. _extract from letter from e. bingham trent to queen teuta of the blue mountains_. . . . so i thought the best way to serve that appalling cad would be to take him at his word, and put in his literary contribution in full. i have had made and attested a copy of his "record," as he calls it, so as to save you trouble. but i send the book itself, because i am afraid that unless you see his words in his own writing, you will not believe that he or anyone else ever penned seriously a document so incriminating. i am sure he must have forgotten what he had written, for even such a dull dog as he is could never have made public such a thing knowingly. . . such a nature has its revenges on itself. in this case the officers of revenge are his _ipsissima verba_. rupert's journal--_continued_. _february_ , . all is now well in train. when the czar of russia, on being asked by the sclavs (as was meet) to be the referee in the "balkan settlement," declined on the ground that he was himself by inference an interested party, it was unanimously agreed by the balkan rulers that the western king should be asked to arbitrate, as all concerned had perfect confidence in his wisdom, as well as his justice. to their wish he graciously assented. the matter has now been for more than six months in his hands, and he has taken endless trouble to obtain full information. he has now informed us through his chancellor that his decision is almost ready, and will be communicated as soon as possible. we have another hunting-party at vissarion next week. teuta is looking forward to it with extraordinary interest. she hopes then to present to our brothers of the balkans our little son, and she is eager to know if they endorse her mother-approval of him. rupert's journal--_continued_. _april_ , . the arbitrator's decision has been communicated to us through the chancellor of the western king, who brought it to us himself as a special act of friendliness. it met with the enthusiastic approval of all. the premier remained with us during the progress of the hunting-party, which was one of the most joyous occasions ever known. we are all of good heart, for the future of the balkan races is now assured. the strife--internal and external--of a thousand years has ceased, and we look with hope for a long and happy time. the chancellor brought messages of grace and courtliness and friendliness to all. and when i, as spokesman of the party, asked him if we might convey a request of his majesty that he would honour us by attending the ceremony of making known formally the balkan settlement, he answered that the king had authorized him to say that he would, if such were wished by us, gladly come; and that if he should come, he would attend with a fleet as an escort. the chancellor also told me from himself that it might be possible to have other nationalities represented on such a great occasion by ambassadors and even fleets, though the monarchs themselves might not be able to attend. he hinted that it might be well if i put the matter in train. (he evidently took it for granted that, though i was only one of several, the matter rested with me--possibly he chose me as the one to whom to make the confidence, as i was born a stranger.) as we talked it over, he grew more enthusiastic, and finally said that, as the king was taking the lead, doubtless all the nations of the earth friendly to him would like to take a part in the ceremony. so it is likely to turn out practically an international ceremony of a unique kind. teuta will love it, and we shall all do what we can. janet mackelpie's notes. _june_ , . our dear teuta is full of the forthcoming celebration of the balkan federation, which is to take place this day month, although i must say, for myself, that the ceremony is attaining to such dimensions that i am beginning to have a sort of vague fear of some kind. it almost seems uncanny. rupert is working unceasingly--has been for some time. for weeks past he seems to have been out day and night on his aeroplane, going through and round over the country arranging matters, and seeing for himself that what has been arranged is being done. uncle colin is always about, too, and so is admiral rooke. but now teuta is beginning to go with rupert. that girl is simply fearless--just like rupert. and they both seem anxious that little rupert shall be the same. indeed, he is the same. a few mornings ago rupert and teuta were about to start just after dawn from the top of the castle. little rupert was there--he is always awake early and as bright as a bee. i was holding him in my arms, and when his mother leant over to kiss him good-bye, he held out his arms to her in a way that said as plainly as if he had spoken, "take me with you." she looked appealingly at rupert, who nodded, and said: "all right. take him, darling. he will have to learn some day, and the sooner the better." the baby, looking eagerly from one to the other with the same questioning in his eyes as there is sometimes in the eyes of a kitten or a puppy--but, of course, with an eager soul behind it--saw that he was going, and almost leaped into his mother's arms. i think she had expected him to come, for she took a little leather dress from margareta, his nurse, and, flushing with pride, began to wrap him in it. when teuta, holding him in her arms, stepped on the aeroplane, and took her place in the centre behind rupert, the young men of the crown prince's guard raised a cheer, amid which rupert pulled the levers, and they glided off into the dawn. the crown prince's guard was established by the mountaineers themselves the day of his birth. ten of the biggest and most powerful and cleverest young men of the nation were chosen, and were sworn in with a very impressive ceremony to guard the young prince. they were to so arrange and order themselves and matters generally that two at least of them should always have him, or the place in which he was, within their sight. they all vowed that the last of their lives should go before harm came to him. of course, teuta understood, and so did rupert. and these young men are the persons most privileged in the whole castle. they are dear boys, every one of them, and we are all fond of them and respect them. they simply idolize the baby. ever since that morning little rupert has, unless it is at a time appointed for his sleeping, gone in his mother's arms. i think in any other place there would be some state remonstrance at the whole royal family being at once and together in a dangerous position, but in the blue mountains danger and fear are not thought of--indeed, they can hardly be in their terminology. and i really think the child enjoys it even more than his parents. he is just like a little bird that has found the use of his wings. bless him! i find that even i have to study court ritual a little. so many nationalities are to be represented at the ceremony of the "balkan settlement," and so many kings and princes and notabilities of all kinds are coming, that we must all take care not to make any mistakes. the press alone would drive anyone silly. rupert and teuta come and sit with me sometimes in the evening when we are all too tired to work, and they rest themselves by talking matters over. rupert says that there will be over five hundred reporters, and that the applications for permission are coming in so fast that there may be a thousand when the day comes. last night he stopped in the middle of speaking of it, and said: "i have an inspiration! fancy a thousand journalists,--each wanting to get ahead of the rest, and all willing to invoke the powers of evil for exclusive information! the only man to look after this department is rooke. he knows how to deal with men, and as we have already a large staff to look after the journalistic guests, he can be at the head, and appoint his own deputies to act for him. somewhere and sometime the keeping the peace will be a matter of nerve and resolution, and rooke is the man for the job." we were all concerned about one thing, naturally important in the eyes of a woman: what robes was teuta to wear? in the old days, when there were kings and queens, they doubtless wore something gorgeous or impressive; but whatever it was that they wore has gone to dust centuries ago, and there were no illustrated papers in those primitive days. teuta was talking to me eagerly, with her dear beautiful brows all wrinkled, when rupert who was reading a bulky document of some kind, looked up and said: "of course, darling, you will wear your shroud?" "capital!" she said, clapping her hands like a joyous child. "the very thing, and our people will like it." i own that for a moment i was dismayed. it was a horrible test of a woman's love and devotion. at a time when she was entertaining kings and notabilities in her own house--and be sure they would all be decked in their finery--to have to appear in such a garment! a plain thing with nothing even pretty, let alone gorgeous, about it! i expressed my views to rupert, for i feared that teuta might be disappointed, though she might not care to say so; but before he could say a word teuta answered: "oh, thank you so much, dear! i should love that above everything, but i did not like to suggest it, lest you should think me arrogant or presuming; for, indeed, rupert, i am very proud of it, and of the way our people look on it." "why not?" said rupert, in his direct way. "it is a thing for us all to be proud of; the nation has already adopted it as a national emblem--our emblem of courage and devotion and patriotism, which will always, i hope, be treasured beyond price by the men and women of our dynasty, the nation, that is--of the nation that is to be." later on in the evening we had a strange endorsement of the national will. a "people's deputation" of mountaineers, without any official notice or introduction, arrived at the castle late in the evening in the manner established by rupert's "proclamation of freedom," wherein all citizens were entitled to send a deputation to the king, at will and in private, on any subject of state importance. this deputation was composed of seventeen men, one selected from each political section, so that the body as a whole represented the entire nation. they were of all sorts of social rank and all degrees of fortune, but they were mainly "of the people." they spoke hesitatingly--possibly because teuta, or even because i, was present--but with a manifest earnestness. they made but one request--that the queen should, on the great occasion of the balkan federation, wear as robes of state the shroud that they loved to see her in. the spokesman, addressing the queen, said in tones of rugged eloquence: "this is a matter, your majesty, that the women naturally have a say in, so we have, of course, consulted them. they have discussed the matter by themselves, and then with us, and they are agreed without a flaw that it will be good for the nation and for womankind that you do this thing. you have shown to them, and to the world at large, what women should do, what they can do, and they want to make, in memory of your great act, the shroud a garment of pride and honour for women who have deserved well of their country. in the future it can be a garment to be worn only by privileged women who have earned the right. but they hope, and we hope with them, that on this occasion of our nation taking the lead before the eyes of the world, all our women may wear it on that day as a means of showing overtly their willingness to do their duty, even to the death. and so"--here he turned to the king--"rupert, we trust that her majesty queen teuta will understand that in doing as the women of the blue mountains wish, she will bind afresh to the queen the loyal devotion which she won from them as voivodin. henceforth and for all time the shroud shall be a dress of honour in our land." teuta looked all ablaze with love and pride and devotion. stars in her eyes shone like white fire as she assured them of the granting of their request. she finished her little speech: "i feared that if i carried out my own wish, it might look arrogant, but rupert has expressed the same wish, and now i feel that i am free to wear that dress which brought me to you and to rupert"--here she beamed on him, and took his hand--"fortified as i am by your wishes and the command of my lord the king." rupert took her in his arms and kissed her fondly before them all, saying: "tell your wives, my brothers, and the rest of the blue mountain women, that that is the answer of the husband who loves and honours his wife. all the world shall see at the ceremony of the federation of balka that we men love and honour the women who are loyal and can die for duty. and, men of the blue mountains, some day before long we shall organize that great idea, and make it a permanent thing--that the order of the shroud is the highest guerdon that a noble-hearted woman can wear." teuta disappeared for a few moments, and came back with the crown prince in her arms. everyone present asked to be allowed to kiss him, which they did kneeling. the federation balka. _by the correspondents of_ "_free america_." the editors of _free america_ have thought it well to put in consecutive order the reports and descriptions of their special correspondents, of whom there were present no less than eight. not a word they wrote is omitted, but the various parts of their reports are placed in different order, so that, whilst nothing which any of them recorded is left out, the reader may be able to follow the proceedings from the various points of view of the writers who had the most favourable opportunity of moment. in so large an assemblage of journalists--there were present over a thousand--they could not all be present in one place; so our men, in consultation amongst themselves, arranged to scatter, so as to cover the whole proceeding from the various "coigns of vantage," using their skill and experience in selecting these points. one was situated on the summit of the steel-clad tower in the entrance to the blue mouth; another on the "press-boat," which was moored alongside king rupert's armoured yacht, _the lady_, whereon were gathered the various kings and rulers of the balkan states, all of whom were in the federation; another was in a swift torpedo-boat, with a roving commission to cruise round the harbour as desired; another took his place on the top of the great mountain which overlooks plazac, and so had a bird's-eye view of the whole scene of operations; two others were on the forts to right and left of the blue mouth; another was posted at the entrance to the great tunnel which runs from the water level right up through the mountains to the plateau, where the mines and factories are situate; another had the privilege of a place on an aeroplane, which went everywhere and saw everything. this aeroplane was driven by an old special correspondent of _free america_, who had been a chum of our special in the japanese and russian war, and who has taken service on the blue mountain _official gazette_. plazac, _june_ , . two days before the time appointed for the ceremony the guests of the land of the blue mountains began to arrive. the earlier comers were mostly the journalists who had come from almost over the whole inhabited world. king rupert, who does things well, had made a camp for their exclusive use. there was a separate tent for each--of course, a small one, as there were over a thousand journalists--but there were big tents for general use scattered about--refectories, reading and writing rooms, a library, idle rooms for rest, etc. in the rooms for reading and writing, which were the work-rooms for general use, were newspapers, the latest attainable from all over the world, blue-books, guides, directories, and all such aids to work as forethought could arrange. there was for this special service a body of some hundreds of capable servants in special dress and bearing identification numbers--in fact, king rupert "did us fine," to use a slang phrase of pregnant meaning. there were other camps for special service, all of them well arranged, and with plenty of facility for transport. each of the federating monarchs had a camp of his own, in which he had erected a magnificent pavilion. for the western king, who had acted as arbitrator in the matter of the federation, a veritable palace had been built by king rupert--a sort of aladdin's palace it must have been, for only a few weeks ago the place it occupied was, i was told, only primeval wilderness. king rupert and his queen, teuta, had a pavilion like the rest of the federators of balka, but infinitely more modest, both in size and adornments. everywhere were guards of the blue mountains, armed only with the "handjar," which is the national weapon. they wore the national dress, but so arranged in colour and accoutrement that the general air of uniformity took the place of a rigid uniform. there must have been at least seventy or eighty thousand of them. the first day was one of investigation of details by the visitors. during the second day the retinues of the great federators came. some of these retinues were vast. for instance, the soldan (though only just become a federator) sent of one kind or another more than a thousand men. a brave show they made, for they are fine men, and drilled to perfection. as they swaggered along, singly or in mass, with their gay jackets and baggy trousers, their helmets surmounted by the golden crescent, they looked a foe not to be despised. landreck martin, the nestor of journalists, said to me, as we stood together looking at them: "to-day we witness a new departure in blue mountain history. this is the first occasion for a thousand years that so large a turkish body has entered the blue mountains with a reasonable prospect of ever getting out again." _july_ , . to-day, the day appointed for the ceremony, was auspiciously fine, even for the blue mountains, where at this time of year the weather is nearly always fine. they are early folk in the blue mountains, but to-day things began to hum before daybreak. there were bugle-calls all over the place--everything here is arranged by calls of musical instruments--trumpets, or bugles, or drums (if, indeed, the drum can be called a musical instrument)--or by lights, if it be after dark. we journalists were all ready; coffee and bread-and-butter had been thoughtfully served early in our sleeping-tents, and an elaborate breakfast was going on all the time in the refectory pavilions. we had a preliminary look round, and then there was a sort of general pause for breakfast. we took advantage of it, and attacked the sumptuous--indeed, memorable--meal which was served for us. the ceremony was to commence at noon, but at ten o'clock the whole place was astir--not merely beginning to move, but actually moving; everybody taking their places for the great ceremony. as noon drew near, the excitement was intense and prolonged. one by one the various signatories to the federation began to assemble. they all came by sea; such of them as had sea-boards of their own having their fleets around them. such as had no fleets of their own were attended by at least one of the blue mountain ironclads. and i am bound to say that i never in my life saw more dangerous craft than these little warships of king rupert of the blue mountains. as they entered the blue mouth each ship took her appointed station, those which carried the signatories being close together in an isolated group in a little bay almost surrounded by high cliffs in the farthest recesses of the mighty harbour. king rupert's armoured yacht all the time lay close inshore, hard by the mouth of the great tunnel which runs straight into the mountain from a wide plateau, partly natural rock, partly built up with mighty blocks of stone. here it is, i am told, that the inland products are brought down to the modern town of plazac. just as the clocks were chiming the half-hour before noon this yacht glided out into the expanse of the "mouth." behind her came twelve great barges, royally decked, and draped each in the colour of the signatory nation. on each of these the ruler entered with his guard, and was carried to rupert's yacht, he going on the bridge, whilst his suite remained on the lower deck. in the meantime whole fleets had been appearing on the southern horizon; the nations were sending their maritime quota to the christening of "balka"! in such wonderful order as can only be seen with squadrons of fighting ships, the mighty throng swept into the blue mouth, and took up their stations in groups. the only armament of a great power now missing was that of the western king. but there was time. indeed, as the crowd everywhere began to look at their watches a long line of ships began to spread up northward from the italian coast. they came at great speed--nearly twenty knots. it was a really wonderful sight--fifty of the finest ships in the world; the very latest expression of naval giants, each seemingly typical of its class--dreadnoughts, cruisers, destroyers. they came in a wedge, with the king's yacht flying the royal standard the apex. every ship of the squadron bore a red ensign long enough to float from the masthead to the water. from the armoured tower in the waterway one could see the myriad of faces--white stars on both land and sea--for the great harbour was now alive with ships and each and all of them alive with men. suddenly, without any direct cause, the white masses became eclipsed--everyone had turned round, and was looking the other way. i looked across the bay and up the mountain behind--a mighty mountain, whose slopes run up to the very sky, ridge after ridge seeming like itself a mountain. far away on the very top the standard of the blue mountains was run up on a mighty flagstaff which seemed like a shaft of light. it was two hundred feet high, and painted white, and as at the distance the steel stays were invisible, it towered up in lonely grandeur. at its foot was a dark mass grouped behind a white space, which i could not make out till i used my field-glasses. then i knew it was king rupert and the queen in the midst of a group of mountaineers. they were on the aero station behind the platform of the aero, which seemed to shine--shine, not glitter--as though it were overlaid with plates of gold. again the faces looked west. the western squadron was drawing near to the entrance of the blue mouth. on the bridge of the yacht stood the western king in uniform of an admiral, and by him his queen in a dress of royal purple, splendid with gold. another glance at the mountain-top showed that it had seemed to become alive. a whole park of artillery seemed to have suddenly sprung to life, round each its crew ready for action. amongst the group at the foot of the flagstaff we could distinguish king rupert; his vast height and bulk stood out from and above all round him. close to him was a patch of white, which we understood to be queen teuta, whom the blue mountaineers simply adore. by this time the armoured yacht, bearing all the signatories to "balka" (excepting king rupert), had moved out towards the entrance, and lay still and silent, waiting the coming of the royal arbitrator, whose whole squadron simultaneously slowed down, and hardly drifted in the seething water of their backing engines. when the flag which was in the yacht's prow was almost opposite the armoured fort, the western king held up a roll of vellum handed to him by one of his officers. we onlookers held our breath, for in an instant was such a scene as we can never hope to see again. at the raising of the western king's hand, a gun was fired away on the top of the mountain where rose the mighty flagstaff with the standard of the blue mountains. then came the thunder of salute from the guns, bright flashes and reports, which echoed down the hillsides in never-ending sequence. at the first gun, by some trick of signalling, the flag of the federated "balka" floated out from the top of the flagstaff, which had been mysteriously raised, and flew above that of the blue mountains. at the same moment the figures of rupert and teuta sank; they were taking their places on the aeroplane. an instant after, like a great golden bird, it seemed to shoot out into the air, and then, dipping its head, dropped downward at an obtuse angle. we could see the king and queen from time waist upwards--the king in blue mountain dress of green; the queen, wrapped in her white shroud, holding her baby on her breast. when far out from the mountain-top and over the blue mouth, the wings and tail of the great bird-like machine went up, and the aero dropped like a stone, till it was only some few hundred feet over the water. then the wings and tail went down, but with diminishing speed. below the expanse of the plane the king and queen were now seen seated together on the tiny steering platform, which seemed to have been lowered; she sat behind her husband, after the manner of matrons of the blue mountains. that coming of that aeroplane was the most striking episode of all this wonderful day. after floating for a few seconds, the engines began to work, whilst the planes moved back to their normal with beautiful simultaneity. there was a golden aero finding its safety in gliding movement. at the same time the steering platform was rising, so that once more the occupants were not far below, but above the plane. they were now only about a hundred feet above the water, moving from the far end of the blue mouth towards the entrance in the open space between the two lines of the fighting ships of the various nationalities, all of which had by now their yards manned--a manoeuvre which had begun at the firing of the first gun on the mountain-top. as the aero passed along, all the seamen began to cheer--a cheering which they kept up till the king and queen had come so close to the western king's vessel that the two kings and queens could greet each other. the wind was now beginning to blow westward from the mountain-top, and it took the sounds towards the armoured fort, so that at moments we could distinguish the cheers of the various nationalities, amongst which, more keen than the others, came the soft "ban zai!" of the japanese. king rupert, holding his steering levers, sat like a man of marble. behind him his beautiful wife, clad in her shroud, and holding in her arms the young crown prince, seemed like a veritable statue. the aero, guided by rupert's unerring hand, lit softly on the after-deck of the western king's yacht; and king rupert, stepping on deck, lifted from her seat queen teuta with her baby in her arms. it was only when the blue mountain king stood amongst other men that one could realize his enormous stature. he stood literally head and shoulders over every other man present. whilst the aeroplane was giving up its burden, the western king and his queen were descending from the bridge. the host and hostess, hand in hand--after their usual fashion, as it seems--hurried forward to greet their guests. the meeting was touching in its simplicity. the two monarchs shook hands, and their consorts, representatives of the foremost types of national beauty of the north and south, instinctively drew close and kissed each other. then the hostess queen, moving towards the western king, kneeled before him with the gracious obeisance of a blue mountain hostess, and kissed his hand. her words of greeting were: "you are welcome, sire, to the blue mountains. we are grateful to you for all you have done for balka, and to you and her majesty for giving us the honour of your presence." the king seemed moved. accustomed as he was to the ritual of great occasions, the warmth and sincerity, together with the gracious humility of this old eastern custom, touched him, monarch though he was of a great land and many races in the far east. impulsively he broke through court ritual, and did a thing which, i have since been told, won for him for ever a holy place in the warm hearts of the blue mountaineers. sinking on his knee before the beautiful shroud-clad queen, he raised her hand and kissed it. the act was seen by all in and around the blue mouth, and a mighty cheering rose, which seemed to rise and swell as it ran far and wide up the hillsides, till it faded away on the far-off mountain-top, where rose majestically the mighty flagstaff bearing the standard of the balkan federation. for myself, i can never forget that wonderful scene of a nation's enthusiasm, and the core of it is engraven on my memory. that spotless deck, typical of all that is perfect in naval use; the king and queen of the greatest nation of the earth { } received by the newest king and queen--a king and queen who won empire for themselves, so that the former subject of another king received him as a brother-monarch on a history-making occasion, when a new world-power was, under his tutelage, springing into existence. the fair northern queen in the arms of the dark southern queen with the starry eyes. the simple splendour of northern dress arrayed against that of almost peasant plainness of the giant king of the south. but all were eclipsed--even the thousand years of royal lineage of the western king, rupert's natural dower of stature, and the other queen's bearing of royal dignity and sweetness--by the elemental simplicity of teuta's shroud. not one of all that mighty throng but knew something of her wonderful story; and not one but felt glad and proud that such a noble woman had won an empire through her own bravery, even in the jaws of the grave. the armoured yacht, with the remainder of the signatories to the balkan federation, drew close, and the rulers stepped on board to greet the western king, the arbitrator, rupert leaving his task as personal host and joining them. he took his part modestly in the rear of the group, and made a fresh obeisance in his new capacity. presently another warship, _the balka_, drew close. it contained the ambassadors of foreign powers, and the chancellors and high officials of the balkan nations. it was followed by a fleet of warships, each one representing a balkan power. the great western fleet lay at their moorings, but with the exception of manning their yards, took no immediate part in the proceedings. on the deck of the new-comer the balkan monarchs took their places, the officials of each state grading themselves behind their monarch. the ambassadors formed a foremost group by themselves. last came the western king, quite alone (save for the two queens), bearing in his hand the vellum scroll, the record of his arbitration. this he proceeded to read, a polyglot copy of it having been already supplied to every monarch, ambassador, and official present. it was a long statement, but the occasion was so stupendous--so intense--that the time flew by quickly. the cheering had ceased the moment the arbitrator opened the scroll, and a veritable silence of the grave abounded. when the reading was concluded rupert raised his hand, and on the instant came a terrific salvo of cannon-shots from not only the ships in the port, but seemingly all up and over the hillsides away to the very summit. when the cheering which followed the salute had somewhat toned down, those on board talked together, and presentations were made. then the barges took the whole company to the armour-clad fort in the entrance-way to the blue mouth. here, in front, had been arranged for the occasion, platforms for the starting of aeroplanes. behind them were the various thrones of state for the western king and queen, and the various rulers of "balka"--as the new and completed balkan federation had become--_de jure_ as well as _de facto_. behind were seats for the rest of the company. all was a blaze of crimson and gold. we of the press were all expectant, for some ceremony had manifestly been arranged, but of all details of it we had been kept in ignorance. so far as i could tell from the faces, those present were at best but partially informed. they were certainly ignorant of all details, and even of the entire programme of the day. there is a certain kind of expectation which is not concerned in the mere execution of fore-ordered things. the aero on which the king and queen had come down from the mountain now arrived on the platform in the charge of a tall young mountaineer, who stepped from the steering-platform at once. king rupert, having handed his queen (who still carried her baby) into her seat, took his place, and pulled a lever. the aero went forward, and seemed to fall head foremost off the fort. it was but a dip, however, such as a skilful diver takes from a height into shallow water, for the plane made an upward curve, and in a few seconds was skimming upwards towards the flagstaff. despite the wind, it arrived there in an incredibly short time. immediately after his flight another aero, a big one this time, glided to the platform. to this immediately stepped a body of ten tall, fine-looking young men. the driver pulled his levers, and the plane glided out on the track of the king. the western king, who was noticing, said to the lord high admiral, who had been himself in command of the ship of war, and now stood close behind him: "who are those men, admiral?" "the guard of the crown prince, your majesty. they are appointed by the nation." "tell me, admiral, have they any special duties?" "yes, your majesty," came the answer: "to die, if need be, for the young prince!" "quite right! that is fine service. but how if any of them should die?" "your majesty, if one of them should die, there are ten thousand eager to take his place." "fine, fine! it is good to have even one man eager to give his life for duty. but ten thousand! that is what makes a nation!" when king rupert reached the platform by the flagstaff, the royal standard of the blue mountains was hauled up under it. rupert stood up and raised his hand. in a second a cannon beside him was fired; then, quick as thought, others were fired in sequence, as though by one prolonged lightning-flash. the roar was incessant, but getting less in detonating sound as the distance and the hills subdued it. but in the general silence which prevailed round us we could hear the sound as though passing in a distant circle, till finally the line which had gone northward came back by the south, stopping at the last gun to south'ard of the flagstaff. "what was that wonderful circle?" asked the king of the lord high admiral. "that, your majesty, is the line of the frontier of the blue mountains. rupert has ten thousand cannon in line." "and who fires them? i thought all the army must be here." "the women, your majesty. they are on frontier duty to-day, so that the men can come here." just at that moment one of the crown prince's guards brought to the side of the king's aero something like a rubber ball on the end of a string. the queen held it out to the baby in her arms, who grabbed at it. the guard drew back. pressing that ball must have given some signal, for on the instant a cannon, elevated to perpendicular, was fired. a shell went straight up an enormous distance. the shell burst, and sent out both a light so bright that it could be seen in the daylight, and a red smoke, which might have been seen from the heights of the calabrian mountains over in italy. as the shell burst, the king's aero seemed once more to spring from the platform out into mid-air, dipped as before, and glided out over the blue mouth with a rapidity which, to look at, took one's breath away. as it came, followed by the aero of the crown prince's guard and a group of other aeros, the whole mountain-sides seemed to become alive. from everywhere, right away up to the farthest visible mountain-tops, darted aeroplanes, till a host of them were rushing with dreadful speed in the wake of the king. the king turned to queen teuta, and evidently said something, for she beckoned to the captain of the crown prince's guard, who was steering the plane. he swerved away to the right, and instead of following above the open track between the lines of warships, went high over the outer line. one of those on board began to drop something, which, fluttering down, landed on every occasion on the bridge of the ship high over which they then were. the western king said again to the gospodar rooke (the lord high admiral): "it must need some skill to drop a letter with such accuracy." with imperturbable face the admiral replied: "it is easier to drop bombs, your majesty." the flight of aeroplanes was a memorable sight. it helped to make history. henceforth no nation with an eye for either defence or attack can hope for success without the mastery of the air. in the meantime--and after that time, too--god help the nation that attacks "balka" or any part of it, so long as rupert and teuta live in the hearts of that people, and bind them into an irresistible unity. footnotes: { } vladika, a high functionary in the land of the blue mountains. he is a sort of official descendant of the old prince-bishops who used at one time to govern the state. in process of time the system has changed, but the function--shorn of its personal dominance--remains. the nation is at present governed by the council. the church (which is, of course, the eastern church) is represented by the archbishop, who controls the whole spiritual functions and organization. the connecting-link between them--they being quite independent organizations--is the vladika, who is _ex officio_ a member of the national council. by custom he does not vote, but is looked on as an independent adviser who is in the confidence of both sides of national control. { } editorial note--we shall, in our issue of saturday week, give a full record of the romantic story of queen teuta and her shroud, written by mr. mordred booth, and illustrated by our special artist, mr. neillison browne, who is mr. booth's artistic collaborateur in the account of king rupert's coronation. { } greatest _kingdom_--_editor free america_. none scanned images of public domain material from the internet archive. [illustration: book cover] [illustration: the hollow tree and deep woods people mr. crow, mr. turtle, mr. 'coon, mr. 'possum, mr. robin, mr. squirrel, mr. dog, mr. rabbit then mr. dog said: "i know all about menageries, for i have been to one"] the hollow tree snowed-in book * * * * * being a continuation of the stories about the hollow tree and deep woods people by albert bigelow paine author of "the hollow tree and deep woods book" with illustrations by j. m. condÉ [illustration] * * * * * new york and london harper & brothers publishers mcmx books by albert bigelow paine the hollow tree snowed-in book. crown vo $ . the ship-dwellers. illustrated. vo . the tent-dwellers. illustrated. post vo . the hollow tree and deep woods book. illustrated. post vo . from van-dweller to commuter. ill'd. post vo . life of thomas nast. ill'd. vo _net_ . * * * * * harper & brothers, publishers, n. y. copyright, , by harper & brothers to all dwellers in the big deep woods of dream [illustration: map of the hollow tree and deep woods country] explanation of map the top of the map is south. this is always so with the hollow tree people. the cross on the shelf below the edge of the world (where the ladder is) is where mr. dog landed, and the ladder is the one brought by mr. man for him to climb back on. the tree that mr. man cut down shows too. the spot on the edge of the world is where the hollow tree people sometimes sit and hang their feet over, and talk. a good many paths show, but not all by a good deal. the bridge and plank near mr. turtle's house lead to the wide grass lands and big west hills. the spots along the foot race show where grandpaw hare stopped, and the one across the fence shows where mr. turtle landed. most of the other things tell what they are, and all the things are a good deal farther apart than they look. of course there was not room on the map for everything. to friends old and new i wonder if you have ever heard a story which begins like this: "once upon a time, in the far depths of the big deep woods, there was a big hollow tree with three hollow branches. in one of these there lived a 'coon, in another a 'possum, and in the third a big black crow." that was the way the first story began in a book which told about the hollow tree people and their friends of the big deep woods who used to visit them, and how they all used to sit around the table, or by the fire, in the parlor-room down-stairs, where they kept most of their things, and ate and talked and had good times together, just like folk.[ ] and the stories were told to the little lady by the story teller, and there were pictures made for them by the artist, and it was all a long time ago--so long ago that the little lady has grown to be almost a big lady now, able to read stories for herself, and to write them, too, sometimes. but the story teller and the artist did not grow any older. the years do not make any difference to them. like the hollow tree people they remain always the same, for though to see them you might think by their faces and the silver glint in their hair that they are older, it would not be so, because these things are only a kind of enchantment, made to deceive, when all the time they are really with the hollow tree people in the big deep woods, where years and enchantments do not count. it was only mr. dog, because he lived too much with mr. man, who grew old and went away to that far land of evening which lies beyond the sunset, taking so many of the hollow tree stories with him. we thought these stories were lost for good when mr. dog left us, but that was not true, for there came another mr. dog--a nephew of our old friend--and he grew up brave and handsome, and learned the ways of the hollow tree people, and their stories, and all the old tales which the first mr. dog did not tell. and now, too, there is another little lady--almost exactly like the first little lady--and it may be that it is this little lady, after all, who keeps the artist and the story teller young, for when she thought they might be growing older, and forgetting, she went with them away from the house of many windows, in the city, to the house of low ceilings and wide fireplaces--a queer old house like mr. rabbit's--built within the very borders of the big deep woods, where they could be always close to mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum and the old black crow, and all the others, and so learn all the new tales of the hollow tree. footnotes: [ ] _the hollow tree and deep woods book_, by the same author and artist. contents page to friends old and new the first snowed-in story mr. dog at the circus the second snowed-in story the widow crow's boarding-house the finding of the hollow tree the third snowed-in story the fourth snowed-in story the "snowed-in" literary club the "snowed-in" literary club--part ii the discontented fox mr. 'possum's great story the bark of old hungry-wolf an early spring call on mr. bear mr. crow's garden when jack rabbit was a little boy a hollow tree picnic illustrations the hollow tree and deep woods people _frontispiece_ map of the hollow tree and deep woods country gathering nice pieces of wood the pantry in the hollow tree "slipped in behind him when he went into the tent" "he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions" "gave me an extra big swing and crack" all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star "then mr. dog said, 'tell me another'" "and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough" "i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye" came clattering down right in front of mr. dog so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder he was an old bachelor and liked to have his own way they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law had to stay at home and peel potatoes listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep mr. 'possum said he'd just get on and hold the things mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove mr. fox said he didn't have much to do for a few minutes and he'd act as judge sailing along, just touching the highest points away went mr. tortoise, clear over the top rail set out for home by a back way tried to splice his property back in place grandfather would light his pipe and think it over set up his ears and went by, lickety-split "'glad to see you,' said king lion; 'i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast" got around the table and began to work mr. 'possum wanted to know what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails mr. dog said he had made a few sketches mr. 'possum said it might be a good enough story, but it couldn't be true so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be "it" mr. 'possum had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head mr. 'possum said he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story and so this cat grew rich and fat his clerks a solemn look was in his face quoth he; "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay" aunt melissy had arranged a bundle for uncle silas, and she had fixed up the hired man too didn't look as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family mr. turtle said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true one day mr. crow found he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything then mr. coon slammed his door mr. 'possum said not to move, that he would go after a piece of wood he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair with a look and a sigh they would stand and behold the tastiest pastry that ever was known then to stir and to bake he began right away the greedy old raven, but greedy no more looked straight at mr. 'possum and said, "what was that you were chewing just now?" they went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was mr. bear must have been very tired and gone to sleep right where he was mr. 'coon scratched his back against a little bush mr. rabbit thanked him from across the river one said it was one way and the other the other way mr. crow decided to thin out a few of jack rabbit's things mr. crow was almost afraid to bring on the salad jack rabbit capered and laughed all the way home took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove little jack knew perfectly well that she wasn't at all pleased promised never to disobey his mother again and he tasted of that a little, too mr. 'possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. 'coon untied him "and what do you think they saw?" the first snowed-in story [illustration: gathering nice pieces of wood] the first snowed-in story in which the reader learns to know the hollow tree people and their friends, and the little lady, and the story teller now this is the beginning of the hollow tree stories which the story teller told the little lady in the queer old house which stands in the very borders of the big deep woods itself. they were told in the room of the lowest ceiling and the widest fire--a ceiling so low that when the story teller stands upright it brushes his hair as he walks, and a fire so deep that pieces of large trees do not need to be split but can be put on whole. in the old days, several great-grandfathers back, as the hollow tree people might say, these heavy sticks were drawn in by a horse that came right through the door and dragged the wood to the wide stone hearth. it is at the end of new-year's day, and the little lady has been enjoying her holidays, for santa claus found his way down the big stone chimney and left a number of things she wanted. now, when the night is coming down outside, and when inside there is a heap of blazing logs and a rocking-chair, it is time for the story teller. the story teller generally smokes and looks into the fire when he tells a hollow tree story, because the hollow tree people always smoke and look into the fire when _they_ tell _their_ stories, and the little lady likes everything to be "just the same," and the stories must be always told just the same, too. if they are not, she stops the story teller and sets him right. so while the little woman passes to and fro, putting away the tea-things, the story teller lights his pipe, and rocks, and looks into the fire, and holds the little lady close, and begins the tales of the hollow tree. "once upon a time," he begins-- "once upon a time," murmurs the little lady, settling herself. "yes, once upon a time, in the old days of the hollow tree, when mr. dog had become friends with the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow who lived in the three hollow branches of the big hollow tree, and used to meet together in their parlor-room down-stairs and invite all their friends, and have good times together, just like folk--" "but they live there now, don't they?" interrupts the little lady, suddenly sitting up, "and still have their friends, just the same?" "oh yes, of course, but this was one of the old times, you know." the little lady settles back, satisfied. "go on telling, now," she says. "well, then, this was one of the times when all the deep woods people had been invited to the hollow tree for christmas day, and were snowed in. of course they didn't expect to be snowed in. nobody ever expects to be snowed in till it happens, and then it's too late." "was that the christmas that mr. dog played santa claus and brought all the presents, and mr. squirrel and mr. robin and mr. turtle and jack rabbit came over, and they all sat around the fire and ate things and told nice stories? you said you would tell about that, and you never did." "i am going to tell it now, as soon as a little lady gets real still," says the story teller. so then the little lady _is_ real still, and he tells the first snowed-in story, which is called: mr. dog at the circus mr. dog at the circus the hollow tree people learn something very important about shows [illustration: the pantry in the hollow tree] that was a great christmas in the hollow tree. the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow had been getting ready for it for a long time, and brought in ever so many nice things to eat, which mr. crow had cooked for them, for mr. crow is the best cook of anybody in the big deep woods. then mr. dog had brought a lot of good things, too, which he had borrowed from mr. man's house, so they had the finest christmas dinner that you can think of, and plenty for the next day when it would be even better, because chicken and turkey and dressing and such things are always better the next day, and even the _third_ day, with gravy, than they are when they are first cooked. then, when they were all through and were standing around, smoking their new pipes and looking at each other's new neckties and other christmas things, mr. crow said that he and mr. squirrel would clear off the table if the others would get in some wood and stir up the fire and set the room to rights, so they could gather round and be comfortable by-and-by; and then, he said, it might snow as much as it liked as long as they had plenty of wood and things to eat inside. so then they all skurried around getting on their things to go out after wood--all except mr. crow and mr. squirrel, who set about clearing off the table and doing up the dishes. and pretty soon mr. dog and mr. coon and the rest were hopping about where the snow was falling so soft and silent among the big, leafless trees, gathering nice pieces of wood and brushing the snow off of them and piling them into the first down-stairs of the hollow tree, which the 'coon and 'possum and old black crow use for their wood-house and general store-room. it was great fun, and they didn't feel the least bit cold after their warm dinner and with all that brisk exercise. mr. robin didn't help carry the wood in. he was hardly strong enough for that, but he hopped about and looked for good pieces, and when he found one he would call to mr. 'coon or mr. 'possum, or maybe to one of the others, to throw it on his shoulder and carry it in, and then he would tell whoever it happened to be how strong he was and how fine he looked with that great chunk on his shoulder, and would say that he didn't suppose there was another 'coon, or 'possum, or turtle, or rabbit, or dog that could begin to stand up straight under such a chunk as that anywhere outside of a menagerie. mr. robin likes to say pleasant things to his friends, and is always popular. and each one tried to carry the biggest load of wood to show how strong he was, and pretty soon they had the lower room of the hollow tree piled up high with the finest chunks and kindling pieces to be found anywhere. then they all hurried up-stairs, stamping the snow off their feet, and gathered around the nice warm fire in the big parlor which was just below the three big hollow branches where the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow had their rooms. mr. crow and mr. squirrel were through with the table by this time, and all hands lit their pipes, and looked into the fire, and smoked, and rested, and thought a little before they began talking--thinking, of course, of what a good time they were having, and how comfortable and nice it was to be inside and warm when such a big snow was falling outside. mr. 'possum was the first one to say anything. he said he had been thinking of what mr. robin had said about them being outside of a menagerie, and that, come to think about it, he believed he didn't know what a menagerie was, unless it was a new name for a big dinner, as that was the only thing he could think of now that they were outside of, and he said if that was so, and if he could get outside of two menageries, he thought he could carry in a bigger chunk than any two chunks there were down-stairs. then all the others laughed a good deal, and mr. 'coon said he had thought that perhaps a menagerie was something to wear that would make anybody who had it on very strong, and able to stand up under a big load, and to eat as much as mr. 'possum could, or even more. but mr. robin said that it didn't mean either of those things. he said he didn't really know what it did mean himself, but that it must be some kind of a place that had a great many large creatures in it, for he had heard his grandmother quite often call his grandfather the biggest goose outside of a menagerie, though, being very young then, mr. robin couldn't remember just what she had meant by it. mr. rabbit said he thought that the word "menagerie" sounded like some kind of a picnic, with swings and nice lively games, and mr. crow said that once when he was flying he passed over a place where there was a big sign that said menagerie on it, and that there were some tents and a crowd of people and a great noise, but that he hadn't seen anything that he could carry off without being noticed, so he didn't stop. mr. squirrel thought that from what mr. crow said it must be a place where there would be a lot of fine things to see, and mr. turtle said that he was a good deal over three hundred years old and had often heard of a menagerie, but that he had never seen one. he said he had always supposed that it was a nice pond of clear water, with a lot of happy turtles and fish and wild geese and duck and such things in it, and maybe some animals around it, all living happily together, and taken care of by mr. man, who brought them a great many good things to eat. he had always thought he would like to live in a menagerie, he said, but that nobody had ever invited him, and he had never happened to come across one in his travels. mr. dog hadn't been saying anything all this time, but he knocked the ashes out of his pipe now, and filled it up fresh and lit it, and cleared his throat, and began to talk. it made him smile, he said, to hear the different ways people thought of a thing they had never seen. he said that mr. turtle was the only one who came anywhere near to what a menagerie really was, though of course mr. crow _had_ seen one on the outside. then mr. dog said: [illustration: "slipped in behind him when he went into the tent"] "i know all about menageries, on the outside and the inside too, for i have been to one. i went once with mr. man, though i wasn't really invited to go. in fact, mr. man invited me to stay at home, and tried to slip off from me; but i watched which way he went, and took long roundin's on him, and slipped in behind him when he went into the tent. he didn't know for a while that i was there, and i wasn't there so very long. but it was plenty long enough--a good deal longer than i'd ever stay again, unless i was tied. "i never saw so many wild, fierce-looking creatures in my life as there were in that menagerie, and they were just as wild and fierce as they looked. they had a lot of cages full of them and they had some outside of cages, though i don't know why they should leave any of those dangerous animals around where they could damage folks that happened to come in reach, as i did. those animals outside didn't look as wild and fierce as those in the cages, but they were. "i kept in the crowd, close behind mr. man at first, and nobody knew i was there, but by-and-by he climbed up into a seat to watch some people all dressed up in fancy clothes ride around a ring on horses, which i didn't care much about, so i slipped away, and went over to where there were some things that i wanted to take my time to see quietly." [illustration: he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions] "there was an animal about my size and style tied over in one corner of the tent, behind a rope, with a sign in front of him which said, 'the only tame hyena in the world.' he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions. "but that sign wasn't true. he wasn't the least bit tame, and i'm sure now that he wasn't smiling. he grabbed me before i had a chance to say a word, and when i jerked loose, which i did right away, for i didn't want to stir up any fuss there, i left quite a piece of my ear with the tame hyena, and tripped backward over the rope and rolled right in front of a creature called an elephant, about as big as a house and not as useful. "i suppose they thought _he_ was tame, too, but he must have been tamed by the same man, for he grabbed me with a kind of a tail that grew on the end of his nose--a thing a good deal like mr. 'possum's tail, only about a million times as big--and i could hear my ribs crack as he waved me up and down. "of course, as i say, i didn't want to stir up any fuss, but i couldn't keep still under such treatment as that, and i called right out to mr. man, where he sat looking at the fancy people riding, and told him that i had had enough of the show, and if he wanted to take any of me home, he ought not to wait very long, but come over that way and see if he couldn't get the tame elephant to practise that performance on the hyena or the next dog, because i had had plenty, and was willing to go home just as i was, all in one piece, even if not very lively. "mr. man _came_, too, and so did a lot of the others. they seemed to think that i was more to look at than those riding people; and some of them laughed, though what there was happening that was funny i have never been able to guess to this day. i kept right on telling mr. man what i wanted him to do, and mebbe i made a good deal of noise about it, for it seemed to stir up those other animals. there was a cage full of lions that started the most awful roaring you can think of, and a cage of crazy-looking things they called monkeys that screeched and howled and swung back and forth in rings and held on to the bars, and all the other things joined in, until i couldn't tell whether i was still saying anything or not. i suppose they were all jealous of the elephant because of the fun he was having, and howling to be let out so they could get hold of me too. "well, you never heard of such a time. it nearly broke up the show. everybody ran over to look, and even the riding people stopped their horses to enjoy it, too. if it only hadn't been so dangerous and unpleasant i should have been proud of the way they came to see me perform. "but mr. man didn't seem to like it much. i heard him tell somebody, as loud as he could, that i would be killed, and that i was the best dog he ever had, and that if i _was_ killed he'd sue the show." [illustration: "gave me an extra swing and crack"] "that made me proud, too, but i wished he wouldn't wait to sue the show, but would do something right away, and just then a man with a fancy dress on and a stick with a sharp iron hook on it came running up and said something i didn't understand and hit the elephant with the hook end of the stick, and he gave me an extra big swing and crack and flung me half-way across the tent, where i landed on a bunch of hay right in front of a long-necked thing called a camel--another terrible tame creature, i suppose--who had me about half eaten up with his old long under lip, before mr. man could get over there. "when mr. man did get hold of me, he said that i'd better take what was left of me home, for they were going to feed the animals pretty soon, and that i would likely get mixed up with the bill of fare. "after that he took me to the entrance and pushed me outside, and i heard all those fierce creatures in the cages growl and roar louder than ever, as if they had expected to sample me and were sorry to see me go. "that's what a menagerie is--it's a place where they have all the kinds of animals and things in the world, for show, and a good many birds, and maybe turtles, too, but they don't have any fine clear pond. they have just a big tent, like the one mr. crow saw, and a lot of cages inside. they keep most of the animals in cages, and they ought to keep them all there, and i don't think they feed them very much, nor the best things, or they wouldn't look so fierce and hungry. "they just keep them for mr. man and his friends to look at and talk about, and if mr. turtle will take my advice he will keep out of a menagerie and live in the wide blue water where he was born. i wouldn't have gone there again unless i had been tied and dragged there, or unless they had put those tame animals into cages with the others. no doubt there are some very fine, strong animals in a menagerie, but they wouldn't be there if they could help it, and if anybody ever invites any of you to join a menagerie, take my advice and don't do it." then mr. dog knocked the ashes out of his pipe again, and all the other deep woods people knocked the ashes out of _their_ pipes, too, and filled them up fresh, and one said one thing, and one said another about being in a menagerie or out of it, and every one thought it would be a terrible thing to be shut up in a cage, except mr. 'possum, who said he wouldn't mind it if they would let him sleep enough and give him all he could eat, but that a cage without those things would be a lonesome place. then mr. 'coon said that a little adventure had happened to him once which he had never mentioned before, because he had never known just what to make of it; but he knew now, he said, that he had come very near getting into a menagerie, and he would tell them just what happened. the story teller looked down at the quiet figure in his lap. the little lady's head was nestled close to his shoulder, and her eyes were straining very hard to keep open. "i think we will save mr. 'coon's story till another night," he said. the second snowed-in story the second snowed-in story mr. 'coon tells how he came near being a part of a menagerie, and how he once told a story to mr. dog "you can tell about mr. 'coon, now--the story you didn't tell last night, you know," and the little lady wriggles herself into a comfortable corner just below the story teller's smoke, and looks deep into a great cavern of glowing embers between the big old andirons, where, in her fancy, she can picture the hollow tree people and their friends. "why, yes, let me see--" says the story teller. "mr. dog had just told about being at the menagerie, you know, and mr. 'coon was just going to tell how he came very near getting into a menagerie himself." "oh yes, of course--well, then, all the hollow tree people, the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow, and their friends who were visiting them--mr. dog and mr. robin and jack rabbit and mr. turtle and mr. squirrel--knocked the ashes out of their pipes and filled them up fresh--" "no, they had just done that." "that's so, i forgot. well, anyway, as soon as they got to smoking and settled back around the fire again mr. 'coon told them his story, and i guess we'll call it "mr. 'coon's early adventure" [illustration: all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him] mr. 'coon said he was quite young when it happened, and was taking a pleasant walk one evening, to think over things a little, and perhaps to pick out a handy tree where mr. man's chickens roosted, when all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him, and he barely had time to get up a tree himself when a strange and very noisy mr. dog was leaping about at the foot of the tree, making a great fuss, and calling every moment for mr. man to hurry, for he had a young 'coon treed. "of course i laid pretty low when i heard that," mr. 'coon said, "for i knew that mr. man would most likely have a gun, so i got into a bunch of leaves and brush that must have been some kind of an old nest and scrooched down so that none of me would show. "then by-and-by i heard some big creature come running through the brush, and i peeked over a little, and there, sure enough, was mr. man with a long gun, and i noticed that he wore a thing on his head--a sort of hat, i suppose--made of what looked to be the skin of some relative of mine. "of course that made me mad. i hadn't cared so much until i saw that; but i said right then to myself that any one who would do such a thing as that never could be a friend of mine, no matter how much he tried. so i scrooched down and laid low in that old nest, and didn't move or let on in any way that i was there. "then i heard mr. man walking around the tree and talking to his dog and telling him that there wasn't anything up in that tree at all, and that mr. dog had just been fooling him. i could tell by his voice that he was getting mad at mr. dog, and i hoped that he'd get mad enough pretty soon to take a stick to him for chasing me up a tree like that, and then calling for mr. man to come and see me when there wasn't really anything to look at. "but mr. dog kept galloping around the tree and barking out, over and over, that i was there; that he had seen me, and that he knew that i was hiding up there somewhere; and pretty soon i heard mr. man going away, and i peeked over again. "sure enough, he was going, but mr. dog was staying right there, sitting under the tree and looking up and making a good deal more noise than there was any need of to let me know he hadn't gone. i didn't see why he stayed there. i wished he'd go away and tend to his own business. "being quite young, i still lived with my folks over near the wide grass lands, and i wanted to get home for supper. it was a good way to go, for the tree i had climbed was over close to the edge of the world where the sun and moon rise, and you all know that's a good way, even from here. "well, he didn't go, but just sat there, barking up that tree, and after a long time i heard somebody coming again, and i peeked over and there was mr. man, hurrying back, this time with an axe. i knew, right then, there was going to be trouble. i knew they were going to cut that tree down, and that i should most likely have quite a fuss with mr. dog, and perhaps go home with a black eye and a scratched nose, and then get whipped again for fighting, after i got there." mr. 'coon stopped and knocked the ashes out of his pipe and filled it up fresh, and all the others knocked the ashes out of their pipes and filled them up fresh, too. then mr. 'possum poked up the fire and told mr. turtle to bring a stick of wood from down-stairs, and when it was blazing up high and bright again they all stepped over to the window a minute, to see how hard it was snowing and banking up outside, then went back to their chairs around the fire, and stretched out their feet and leaned back and smoked, and listened to the rest of mr. 'coon's story. mr. coon said he didn't like the sound of that axe when mr. man began to cut the tree down. "every time he struck the tree i could feel it all through me," he said, "and i knew if he kept that noise up long enough it would give me a nervous headache. i wished the tree would hurry up and drop, so we could have what muss we were going to, and get it over with. i'd have got out of that old nest and made a jump for another tree if there had been any near enough, but there wasn't, so i just laid low and gritted my teeth and let him chop. [illustration: then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star] "well, by-and-by that tree began to go down. it seemed to teeter a little at first, this way and that; then it went very slow in one direction; then it went a little faster; then it went a good deal faster; then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star, i came down so fast, and there was a big crash, and i thought i had turned into a lot of stars, sure enough, and was shooting in every direction, and the next i knew i was tied to a tree, hand and foot and around the middle, and mr. man and mr. dog were sitting and looking at me, and grinning, and talking about what they were going to do. "mr. man wasn't scolding mr. dog any more. he was telling him what a good thing it was they had caught me alive, for now they could sell me to a show and get a great deal more for me than they could for my skin. i didn't know what a show was, then, or that a show is a menagerie, but i know now, and i can see just what they meant. "pretty soon mr. man told mr. dog to stay there and watch me while he went home after a box to put me in. he said he didn't think it would be safe to carry me in his arms, and he was right about that. "so then mr. man walked off, and left mr. dog guarding me, and saying unpleasant things to me now and then. "at first i wouldn't answer him; but pretty soon i happened to think of something pleasant to say: "'mr. dog,' i said, 'i know a good story, if you'd like me to tell it. mr. man may be a good while getting that box, and mebbe you'd like to hear something to pass the time.' "mr. dog said he would. he said that mr. man would most likely have to make the box, and he didn't suppose he knew where the hammer and nails were, and it might be dark before mr. man got back. [illustration: "then mr. dog said, 'tell me another'"] "i felt a good deal better when i heard mr. dog say that, and i told him a story i knew about how mr. rabbit lost his tail, and mr. dog laughed and seemed to like it, and said, 'tell me another.'" before mr. 'coon could go on with his story, mr. rabbit said that of course if that old tale had helped mr. 'coon out of trouble he was very glad, but that it wasn't at all true, and that some time _he_ would tell them himself the true story of how it happened. then they all said that they hoped he would, for they'd always wanted to hear that story told right, and then mr. 'coon went on with his adventure. mr. coon said that when mr. dog said, 'tell me another,' he knew he was in a good-humor, and that he felt better and better himself. "i thought if mr. man didn't come back too soon," he said, "i might get along pretty well with mr. dog. "'i know another story, mr. dog,' i said--'the funniest story there is. it would make you laugh until you fell over the edge of the world, but i can't tell it here.' "'why,' he said,--'why can't you tell it here as well as anywhere?' "'because it has to be acted,' i said, 'and my hands are tied.' "'will you tell it if i untie your hands?' said mr. dog. "'well,' i said, 'i'll begin it, and you can see how it goes.' "so mr. dog came over and untied my hands, for he said he could tie them again before mr. man came back, because he knew mr. man hadn't found that hammer yet. "'you can't get loose with just your hands untied, can you?' he said. "'no, of course not, mr. dog,' i said, pleasant and polite as could be. "'let's see you try,' said mr. dog. "so i twisted and pulled, and of course i couldn't get loose. "'now tell the story,' said mr. dog. "so i said: 'once there was a man who had a very bad pain in his chest, and he took all kinds of medicine, and it didn't do him any good. and one day the old wise man of the woods told him if he would rub his chest with one hand and pat his head with the other, it might draw the pain out the top and cure him. so the man with the pain in his chest tried it, and he did it this way.' "then i showed mr. dog just how he did it, and mr. dog thought that was funny, and laughed a good deal. "'go on and tell the rest of it,' he said. 'what happened after that?' "but i let on as if i'd just remembered something, and i said, 'oh, mr. dog, i'm _so_ sorry, but i can't tell the rest of that story here, and it's the funniest part, too. i know you'd laugh till you rolled over the edge of the world.' "'why can't you tell the rest of that story here as well as anywhere?' said mr. dog, looking anxious. "'because it has to be acted with the feet,' i said, 'and my feet are tied.' "'will you tell it if i untie your feet?' said mr. dog. "'well, i'll do the best i can,' i said. "so mr. dog came over and untied my feet. he said he knew that mr. man hadn't found the nails or the pieces to make the box yet, and there would be plenty of time to tie me again before mr. man got back. "'you can't get loose, anyway, with just your hands and feet untied, can you?' he said. "'no, of course not, mr. dog,' i said, more pleasant and polite than ever. "'let's see you try,' said mr. dog. "so i squirmed and twisted, but of course with a strong string around my waist and tied behind i couldn't do anything. "'now go on with the story,' said mr. dog. [illustration: "and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough"] "'well,' i said, 'the pain left his chest, but it went into his back, and he had a most terrible time, until one day the old wise man of the woods came along and told him that he thought he ought to know enough by this time to rub his back where the pain was and pat his head at the same time to draw it out at the top. so then the man with the pain rubbed his back and patted his head this way,' and i showed mr. dog how he did it; and i rubbed a good while about where the knot was, and made a face to show how the man with the pain looked, and then i said the pain came back into his chest again instead of being drawn out at the top; and i changed about and rubbed there awhile, and then i went around to my back again, chasing that pain first one side and the other; and then i said that the old wise man of the woods came along one day and told him that he must kick with his feet too if he ever wanted to get rid of that pain, because, after all, it might have to be kicked out at the bottom; and when i began to kick and dance with both feet and to rub with my hands at the same time, mr. dog gave a great big laugh--the biggest laugh i ever heard anybody give--and fell right down and rolled over and over, and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough. "i heard him go clattering into a lot of brush and blackberry bushes that are down there, and just then i got that back knot untied, and i stepped over and looked down at mr. dog, who had lodged in a brier patch on a shelf about ten feet below the edge, where mr. man would have to get him up with a ladder or a rope. "'do you want to hear the rest of the story, mr. dog?' i said. "'i'll story _you_,' he said, 'when i catch you!' "'i told you you'd laugh till you fell off the edge of the world,' i said. "'i'll make _you_ laugh,' he said, 'when i catch you!' [illustration: "i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye"] "then i saw he was cross about something, and i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye to mr. man, for i didn't want to waste any more time, though i missed my supper and got a scolding besides. "but i was glad i didn't bring home a black eye and scratched nose, and i'm more glad than ever now that mr. man didn't get back in time with that box, or i might be in a menagerie this minute instead of sitting here smoking and telling stories and having a good time on christmas day." the story teller looks down at the little lady. "i'm glad mr. 'coon didn't get into the menagerie, aren't you?" she says. "very glad," says the story teller. "he went lickety-split home, didn't he?" "he did that!" "i like them to go lickety-split better than lickety-cut, don't you?" says the little lady. "they seem to go so much faster." "ever so much faster," says the story teller. the widow crow's boarding-house the widow crow's boarding-house early doings of the hollow tree people and how they found a home anybody can tell by her face that the little lady has some plan of her own when the story teller is ready next evening to "sit by the fire and spin." "i want you to tell me," she says, climbing up into her place, "how the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow ever got to living together in the hollow tree." that frightens the story teller. he is all ready with something different. "good gracious!" he says, "that is an old story that all the deep woods people have known ever so long." "but i don't know it," says the little lady, "and i'd like to know that before you tell anything else. rock, and tell it." so the story teller rocks slowly, and smokes, and almost forgets the little lady in remembering that far-away time, and presently he begins. "well, it was all so long ago that perhaps i can't remember it very well. mr. 'possum was a young man in those days--a nice spry young fellow; and he used to think it was a good deal of fun to let mr. dog--who wasn't friendly then, of course--try to catch him; and when mr. dog would get pretty close and come panting up behind him, mr. 'possum would scramble up a tree, and run out on to the longest limb and swing from it, head down, and laugh, and say: "come right up, mr. dog! always at home to you, mr. dog! don t stop to knock!" and then mr. dog would race around under the tree and make a great to do, and sometimes mr. 'possum would swing back and forth, and pretty soon give a great big swing and let go, and mr. dog would think surely he had him then, and bark and run to the place where he thought he was going to drop. only mr. 'possum didn't drop--not far; for he had his limb all picked out, and he would catch it with his tail as he went by, and it would bend and sway with him, and he would laugh, and call again: "don't go, mr. dog! mr. man can get up the cows alone to-night!" and then mr. dog would remember that he was a good ways from home, and that if he wasn't there in time to help mr. man get up the cows there might be trouble; and he would set out lickety-split for home, with mr. 'possum calling to him as he ran. [illustration: came clattering down right in front of mr. dog] but one time mr. 'possum made a mistake. he didn't know it, but he was getting older and a good deal fatter than he had been at first, and when he swung out for another limb that way, and let go, he missed the limb and came clattering down right in front of mr. dog. he wasn't hurt much, for the ground was soft, and there was a nice thick bed of leaves; but i tell you he was scared, and when mr. dog jumped right on top of him, and grabbed him, he gave himself up for lost, sure enough. but mr. 'possum is smart in some ways, and he knows how to play "dead" better than any other animal there is. he knew that mr. dog would want to show him to mr. man, and that he was too heavy for mr. dog to carry. he had thought about all that, and decided what to do just in that little second between the limb and the ground, for mr. 'possum can think quick enough when anything like that happens. so when he struck the ground he just gave one little kick with his hind foot and a kind of a sigh, as if he was drawing his last breath, and laid there: and even when mr. dog grabbed him and shook him he never let on, but acted almost deader than if he had been really dead and no mistake. then mr. dog stood with his paws out and his nose down close, listening, and barking once in a while, and thinking maybe he would come to pretty soon, but mr. 'possum still never let on, or breathed the least little bit, and directly mr. dog started to drag him toward mr. man's house. that was a hard job, and every little way mr. dog would stop and shake mr. 'possum and bark and listen to see if he was really dead, and after a while he decided that he was, and started to get mr. man to come and fetch mr. 'possum home. but he only went a few steps, the first time, and just as mr. 'possum was about to jump up and run he came hurrying back, and stood over him and barked and barked as loud as ever he could for mr. man to come and see what he had for him. but mr. man was too far away, and even if he heard mr. dog he didn't think it worth while to come. [illustration: so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder] so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder, to carry him that way; but mr. 'possum made himself so limp and loose and heavy that every time mr. dog would get him nearly up he would slide off again and fall all in a heap on the leaves; and mr. dog couldn't help believing that he was dead, to see him lying there all doubled up, just as he happened to drop. so, then, by-and-by mr. dog really did start for mr. man's, and mr. 'possum lay still, and just opened one eye the least bit to see how far mr. dog had gone, and when he had gone far enough mr. 'possum jumped up quick as a wink and scampered up a tree, and ran out on a limb and swung with his head down, and called out: "don't go away, mr. dog! we've had such a nice visit together! don't go off mad, mr. dog! come back and stay till the cows come home!" then mr. dog was mad, i _tell_ you, and told him what he'd do next time; and he set out for home fast as he could travel, and went in the back way and hid, for mr. man was already getting up the cows when he got there. well, mr. 'possum didn't try that swinging trick on mr. dog any more. he found out that it was dangerous, the way he was getting, and that made him think he ought to change his habits in other ways too. for one thing, he decided he ought to have some regular place to stay where he could eat and sleep and feel at home, instead of just travelling about and putting up for the night wherever he happened to be. mr. 'possum was always quite stylish, too, and had a good many nice clothes, and it wasn't good for them to be packed about all the time; and once some of his best things got rained on and he had to sleep on them for a long time to get them pressed out smooth again. [illustration: he was an old bachelor and liked to have his own way] so mr. 'possum made up his mind to find a home. he was an old bachelor and never wanted to be anything else, because he liked to have his own way, and go out all times of the night, and sleep late if he wanted to. so he made up his mind to look up a good place to board--some place that would be like a home to him--perhaps in a private family. one day when he was walking through the woods thinking about it, and wondering how he ought to begin to find a place like that, he met mr. z. 'coon, who was one of his oldest friends in the big deep woods. they had often been hunting together, especially nights, for mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum always like that time best for hunting, and have better luck in the dark than any other time. mr. 'coon had had his troubles with mr. dog, too, and had come very near getting caught one night when mr. man and some of his friends were out with mr. dog and his relatives and several guns looking for a good sunday dinner. mr. 'coon _would_ have got caught that time, only when mr. man cut the tree down that he was in he gave a big jump as the tree was falling and landed in another tree, and then ran out on a limb and jumped to another tree that wasn't so far away, and then to another, so that mr. man and his friends and all the dog family lost track of him entirely. but mr. 'coon was tired of that kind of thing too, and wanted some place where he could be comfortable, and where he could lock the door nights and feel safe. mr. 'coon was a bachelor, like mr. 'possum, though he had once been disappointed in love, and told about it sometimes, and looked sad, and even shed tears. so when he met mr. 'possum that day they walked along and talked about finding a place to live, and just as they were wondering what they ought to do they happened to notice, right in front of them, a little piece of birch bark tacked up on a tree, and when they read it, it said: mrs. widow crow. will take a few guests. single gentlemen preferred; pleasant location near race-track. then mr. 'possum scratched his head and tried to think, and mr. 'coon scratched _his_ head and tried to think, and pretty soon mr. 'coon said: "oh yes, i know about that. that's mr. crow's mother-in-law. he had a wife until last year, and his mother-in-law used to live with them. i believe she was pretty cross, but i've heard mr. crow say she was a good cook, and that he had learned to cook a great many things himself. i heard some time ago that she had moved over by the race-track, and perhaps mr. crow is boarding with her. let's go over and see." [illustration: they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law] so away they went, saying how nice it would be to be really settled, and pretty soon they got over to mrs. widow crow's, and there, sure enough, they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law; and when they asked him about the advertisement, he said he was helping her to get started, and she had two nice rooms, and that mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon would be just the ones to fill them. so they went right in and saw mrs. widow crow about it, and by night they had their things moved and were all settled, and widow crow got a nice supper for them, and mr. crow helped her, and worked as hard as if he were a hired man instead of a boarder like the others, which he was, because he paid for his room as much as anybody, and got scolded besides when he didn't do things to suit his mother-in-law. the finding of the hollow tree the finding of the hollow tree how the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow moved and set up housekeeping well, the widow crow set a very good table, and everything in her boarding-house went along quite well for a while, and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon both said what a good thing it was to have a home, and mr. crow said so too, though he didn't look as if he enjoyed it as much as he said, for his mother-in-law kept him so busy cutting and carrying wood and helping her with the cooking that he never had any time for himself at all. [illustration: had to stay at home and peel potatoes] even when mr. rabbit and some of his friends had the great fall handicap race he had to stay at home and peel potatoes, and not see it, besides being scolded all the time for wanting to go to such a thing as a rabbit race anyway. and mr. crow was sad because it reminded him of his married life, which he was trying to forget--mrs. crow having been the image of his mother-in-law and exactly like her about races and peeling potatoes and such things. and by-and-by, mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon didn't like it so much, either. widow crow got so she scolded them, too, about their habits, especially about being out nights and lying in bed next morning, and she wouldn't give them any breakfast unless they got up in time. at last she even asked them to take care of their own rooms and to do other work, the same as mr. crow did; and she didn't cook as good things, nor as many of them, as she did when they first came. then one day when they complained a little--not very much, for they were afraid of the widow crow, but a little--she told them that if they didn't like what she gave them they could find a place they liked better, and that she was tired of their ways anyhow. so then mr. crow and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum all got together and talked it over. and mr. crow said _they_ might be pretty tired of it, but that they couldn't in a hundred years, thinking night and day, think how tired of it _he_ was. he said if they would just say the word he would take the things that belonged to him out of that house, and the three of them would find some good place and all live together, and never have anything more to do with mothers-in-law or their families. he said he knew how to cook as well as she did, and really liked to cook when he was in a pleasant place and wasn't henpecked to death. and he said if they moved his things they had better do it at night while his mother-in-law was asleep, so as not to disturb her. well, mr. 'possum and mr. coon both spoke right up and said _they'd_ go in a minute, and that they'd hunt up the place to live that very day, though it wasn't the best time of year to move. and mr. crow said: "i know where there's a big hollow tree that would be _just_ the place. it's the biggest tree in the big deep woods. it has three big hollow branches that would do for rooms, and with a little work it could be made into the finest place anywhere. the old wise man of the woods once lived there and fixed it all up with nice stairs, and a fireplace, and windows, and doors with good latches on them, and it's still just as he left it. all it needs are a few repairs, and we could move right in. i found it once as i was flying over, and i could tell _you_, so you could find it. it's in a thick swampy place, and you would never guess it was there if you didn't know it. mr. dog knows about it, but he never could get in if we kept the door latched, and it's not so far away from mr. man's that we could not borrow, when we ran out of little things we needed." well, mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon took the directions from mr. crow, and went right off to look at the hollow tree that very day, and decided they'd take it, and pitched in to clean it up and get it ready to live in. and next day they came with a hammer and some nails and worked all day again, and mr. rabbit heard the noise and came over and looked through the place and said how nice it was; and they were so tired at night that they never thought of going out, and were up early for breakfast. widow crow was so surprised she forgot what she had always scolded them for before, and scolded them this time for getting up so early that they had to stand around and wait for breakfast to be put on the table. but they didn't seem to mind the scolding at all, and mr. crow looked happier than he had looked for months, and skipped around and helped set the table, and brought in a big wood-box full of wood, and when widow crow scolded him for getting chips on the floor he laughed. then she boxed his ears and told him he ought to remember the poor missing one at such a time, and mr. crow said he did, and could almost imagine she was there now. well, mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum got the hollow tree all ready, that day, and that night they moved. the widow crow was pretty fat, and liked to go to bed early, and sleep sound, and leave mr. crow to do the evening dishes; and that evening mr. 'coon and' mr. possum pitched in and helped him, and they got through in a jiffy and began to move. mr. crow said he knew his own things, and that he wouldn't take any that belonged to the missing one, because they had mostly come from her mother; and, besides, they would be a sad reminder, and didn't seem to go with the kind of a place they had planned to have. he said if they didn't have enough things they could borrow a few from mr. man when mr. man went away and left his windows open, and that they wouldn't need much to begin with. [illustration: listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep] so then they got mr. crow's cook-stove out of the back store-room, and a table that was his, and some chairs from different parts of the house, and a few dishes which had come to him from his side of the family, and they tiptoed around and listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep. they knew she _was_ by the sound; but still they were very quiet until mr. 'possum started to bring a rocking-chair of mr. crow's down-stairs and somehow got his legs through the rounds and fell and rolled clear to the bottom, expressing his feelings as he came down. that woke up widow crow with a jump, and she sat up in bed and called "thieves!" and "help!" and mr. crow ran to her door and said that it wasn't anything, only those scamps mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon had been out late again. he said they had brought home one of mr. man's beehives and had dropped it because the bees woke up just as they were climbing the stairs. then mrs. crow called out quick, and said for him not to dare to open that door and let those pesky bees into her room, and that she hoped they'd sting that 'possum and 'coon until they wouldn't be able to tell themselves apart. she said she bet she'd get that pair out of her house if she lived through the night. then she rolled over and went to sleep again, and mr. 'possum got up and limped a little, but wasn't much damaged, and they got all the things outside and loaded up, and set out for the hollow tree. it was moonlight and mr. crow led the way, and the minute they were far enough off to be sure they wouldn't wake up widow crow they sang the chorus of a song that mr. rabbit had made for them the day before when he called at the hollow tree, and they had told him what they were going to do. that was the hollow tree song, which, of course, everybody in the big deep woods knows now, but it had never been sung there before, and when they joined in the chorus, then here's to the 'possum and the old black crow and the 'coon with a one, two, three! and here's to the hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow-- then here's to the hollow tree, mr. owl, who was watching them from a limb overhead, thought he had never heard anything quite so fine. well, they couldn't get along very fast, for the things got so heavy and they had to rest so often that it began to look as if they wouldn't get to the hollow tree by morning. but just as they got out into a little open place that was about half-way there they saw somebody coming, and who do you suppose it was? "i know," says the little lady, "it was the old wise man of the woods, to tell them they couldn't have his house." "no, he didn't live there any more--he had gone away for good. no, it wasn't the old wise man; it was mr. rabbit and mr. turtle, coming to help them move. mr. rabbit had gone all the way to the wide blue water after mr. turtle because he is so strong, and they would have been there a good deal sooner, only mr. turtle didn't get home till late, and travels slow." [illustration: mr. 'possum said he'd just get on and hold the things] well, it wasn't so hard to move after that. they just set the cook-stove on mr. turtle's back and piled on as much as would stay on, and he kept telling them to put on more, until pretty soon mr. 'possum said that he would just get on and hold the things from slipping off, which he did, and sat on the stove and rode and swung his feet and held the other things, while mr. crow and the rest walked and carried what was left. and when they got to the hollow tree it was just about sun-up, and mr. 'possum said if they didn't have breakfast pretty soon he would starve to death with being up all night and working so hard holding on those things. [illustration: mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove] so then mr. crow told him that he and mr. 'coon could set up the stove, and that he would unpack the food and stir up something as quick as he could if the others would bring a little wood and some water from the spring, and place the things around inside; for he saw a cloud coming, he said, and it might rain. and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove in a hurry, and the pieces of pipe didn't fit very well, and they came as near having a quarrel over it as they ever did over anything, for even the best friends can't always put up stovepipe together without thinking and sometimes saying unpleasant things about each other, especially when they are hungry and not very warm and the house is all upset. mr. 'coon said he only wished he had another hand and he would do that job alone, and mr. 'possum told him that if he'd been provided with a handy and useful tail he'd _have_ the same as another hand, and could work more and not wish so much. then mr. rabbit came to help them, and just as they got it about up it all came down again, and mr. crow said that if they'd all go away he'd set up the stove himself; which he did in about a minute, and had a fire in it and the coffee on in no time. then the others rushed around and got the things straightened out, and a fire in the fireplace, and they said how nice rooms were, and when mr. crow called they all came hurrying down, and in about another minute the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow, with mr. rabbit and mr. turtle, all sat down to the first meal in the hollow tree. it was then that jack rabbit read all of the "hollow tree song" he had made for them, and they all sang it together; and then the storm that mr. crow had seen coming did come, and they shut all the doors and windows tight, and sat before the fire and smoked and went to sleep, because they were so tired with being up all night. and that was the first day in the hollow tree, and how the possum and coon and old black crow came to live there, and they live there still. the third snowed-in story the third snowed-in story mr. rabbit tells some interesting family history the little lady waited until the story teller had lit his pipe and sat looking into the great open fire, where there was a hickory log so big that it had taken the story teller and the little lady's mother with two pairs of ice-tongs to drag it to the hearth and get it into place. pretty soon the little lady had crept in between the story teller's knees. then in another minute she was on one of his knees, helping him rock. then she said: "did mr. rabbit tell his story next? he promised to tell about losing his tail, you know." the story teller took his pipe from his mouth a moment, and sat thinking and gazing at the big log, which perhaps reminded him of one of the limbs of the hollow tree, where the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow lived and had their friends visit them that long-ago snowy christmas-time. "why, yes," he said, "that's so, mr. rabbit _did_ tell that story. when mr. 'coon got through telling how he came near getting into a menagerie, they all said that it certainly was a very narrow escape, and mr. 'coon said he shouldn't wonder if that menagerie had to quit business, just because he wasn't in it; and mr. 'possum said he thought if anything would _save_ a menagerie that would, for it would keep them from being eaten out of house and home." then mr. coon said that if that was so, mr. 'possum had saved at least three menageries by staying right where he was in the big deep woods. this made mr. squirrel and mr. robin laugh, and the rest wondered what those two gigglers had noticed that was funny. then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes again, and walked over to the window, and looked at the snow banking up outside and piling up on the bare limbs of the big trees. they said how early it got dark this time of year, especially on a cloudy day. and pretty soon mr. crow said they had just about time for one more story before supper, and that mr. rabbit ought to tell now about how, a long time ago, his family had lost their tails. mr. rabbit didn't seem to feel very anxious to tell it, but they told him that he had promised, and that now was as good a time as any, so they went back and sat down, and mr. rabbit told them the true story of the hare and the tortoise, and how jack rabbit lost his tail "once upon a time," he said, "a great many great-grandfathers back, my family had long bushy tails, like mr. squirrel and mr. fox, only a good deal longer and finer and softer, and _very handsome_." when mr. rabbit said that, mr. squirrel sniffed and twitched his nose and gave his nice bushy tail a flirt, but he didn't say anything. mr. rabbit went right on. "well, there was one fine, handsome rabbit who had the longest and plumiest tail of any of the family, and was very proud of it. he was my twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and was called mr. hare. he was young and smart then, and thought he was a good deal smarter than he really was, though he was smart enough and handsome enough to set the style for all the other rabbits, and not much ever happened to him, because he could beat anything running that there was in the big deep woods. "that twenty-seventh great-grandfather of mine was very proud of his running, and used to brag that in a foot-race he could beat anything that lived between the wide grass lands and the edge of the world. he used to talk about it to almost everybody that came along, and one day when he met one of the turtle family who used to be called mr. tortoise in those days, he stopped and began to brag to him how fast he could run and how nobody in the big deep woods dared to race with him. "but mr. turtle, he just smiled a little and said: 'oh, pshaw! you can't run very fast. i believe i can beat you myself!' "well, that did make grandfather hare laugh--and made him a little mad, too. "'you!' he said. 'why, i'll give you within ten yards of that rail fence of mr. man's, half a mile away, and then beat you across it. just travel along, and some time this afternoon, when you get down that way, i'll come back and let you see me go by. but you'll have to look quick if you see me, for i'll be going fast.' [illustration: mr. fox said he didn't have much to do for a few minutes and he'd act as judge] "but mr. tortoise said he didn't want any start at all, that he was ready to begin the race right then; and that made grandpaw hare laugh so loud that mr. fox heard him as he was passing, and came over to see what the fun was. then he said that he hadn't much to do for a few minutes, and that he'd stay and act as judge. he thought a race like that wouldn't last long; and it didn't, though it wasn't at all the kind of a race he had expected. "well, he put mr. tortoise and my twenty-seventh great-grandfather side by side, and then he stood off and said 'go!' and thought it would all be over in a minute. "grandpaw hare gave one great big leap, about twenty feet long, and then stopped. he was in no hurry, and he wanted to have some fun with mr. tortoise. he looked around to where mr. tortoise was coming straddling and panting along, and he laughed and rolled over to see how solemn he looked, and how he was travelling as if he meant to get somewhere before dark. he was down on all fours so he could use all his legs at once, and anybody would think, to look at him, that he really expected to win that race. "the more my grandpaw hare looked at him the more he laughed, and then he would make another long leap forward and stop, and look back, and wait for mr. tortoise to catch up again. "then he would call to him, or maybe go back and take roundin's on him, and say, 'come along there, old tobacco-box. are you tied to something?' mr. fox would laugh a good deal, too, and he told my ancestor to go on and finish the race--that he couldn't wait around there all day. and pretty soon he said if they were going to fool along like that, he'd just go down to the fence and take a nap till they got there; and for grandpaw rabbit to call to him when he really started to come, so he could wake up and judge the finish. "mr. fox he loped away to the fence and laid down and went to sleep in the shade, and grandpaw hare thought it would be fun to pretend to be asleep, too. i've heard a story told about it that says that he really did go to sleep, and that mr. tortoise went by him and got to the fence before he woke up. but that is not the way it happened. my twenty-seventh great-grandfather was too smart to go to sleep, and even if he had gone to sleep, mr. tortoise made enough noise pawing and scratching along through the grass and gravel to wake up forty of our family. "my ancestor would wait until he came grinding along and got up even with him, then suddenly he'd sit up as if he'd been waked out of a nice dream and say, 'hello, old coffee-mill! what do you want to wake me up for when i'm trying to get a nap?' then he would laugh a big laugh and make another leap, and lie down and pretend again, with his fine plumy tail very handsome in the sun. "but grandpaw hare carried the joke a little too far. he kept letting mr. tortoise get up a little closer and closer every time, until mr. tortoise would almost step on him before he would move. and that was just what mr. tortoise wanted, for about the next time he came along he came right up behind my ancestor, but instead of stepping on him, he gave his head a quick snap, just as if he were catching fish, and grabbed my grandpaw hare by that beautiful plumy tail, and held on, and pinched, and my ancestor gave a squeal and a holler and set out for that rail fence, telling his troubles as he came. [illustration: sailing along, just touching the highest points] "mr. fox had gone sound asleep and didn't hear the rumpus at first, and when he did, he thought grandpaw was just calling to him to wake up and be ready to judge the race, so he sat up quick and watched them come. he saw my twenty-seventh great-grandfather sailing along, just touching the highest points, with something that looked like an old black wash-pan tied to his tail. "when mr. fox saw what it was, he just laid down and laughed and rolled over, and then hopped up on the top rail and called, out 'all right, i'm awake, mr. hare! come right along, mr. hare; you'll beat him yet!' "then he saw my ancestor stop and shake himself, and paw, and roll over, to try to get mr. tortoise loose, which of course he couldn't do, for, as we all know, whenever any of the turtle family get a grip they never let go till it thunders, and this was a bright day. so pretty soon grandpaw was up and running again with mr. tortoise sailing out behind and mr. fox laughing to see them come, and calling out: 'come right along, mr. hare! come right along! you'll beat him yet!' [illustration: away went mr. tortoise, clear over the top rail] "but mr. fox made a mistake about that. grandpaw hare was really ahead, of course, when he came down the homestretch, but when he got pretty close to the fence he made one more try to get mr. tortoise loose, and gave himself and his tail a great big swing, and mr. tortoise didn't let go quite quick enough, and off came my twenty-seventh great-grandfather's beautiful plumy tail, and away went mr. tortoise with it, clear over the top rail of the fence, and landed in a brier patch on the other side. "well, grandpaw hare was in such a state as you never heard of! he forgot all about the race at first, and just raved about his great loss, and borrowed mr. fox's handkerchief to tie up what was left, and said that he never in the world could show his face before folks again. "and mr. fox stopped laughing as soon as he could, and was really quite sorry for him, and even mr. tortoise looked through the fence, and asked him if he didn't think it could be spliced and be almost as good as ever. "he said he hadn't meant to commit any damage, and that he hoped mr. hare would live to forgive him, and that now there was no reason why my grandpaw shouldn't beat him in the next race. "then my ancestor remembered about the race and forgot his other loss for a minute, and declared that mr. tortoise didn't win the race at all--that he couldn't have covered that much ground in a half a day alone, and he asked mr. fox if he was going to let that great straddle-bug ruin his reputation for speed and make him the laughing-stock of the big deep woods, besides all the other damage he had done. "then mr. fox scratched his head, and thought about it, and said he didn't see how he could help giving the race to mr. tortoise, for it was to be the first one across the fence, and that mr. tortoise was certainly the first one across, and that he'd gone over the top rail in style. [illustration: set out for home by a back way] "well, that made grandpaw hare madder than ever. he didn't say another word, but just picked up his property that mr. tortoise handed him through the fence, and set out for home by a back way, studying what he ought to do to keep everybody from laughing at him, and thinking that if he didn't do something he'd have to leave the country or drown himself, for he had always been so proud that if people laughed at him he knew he could never show his face again. "and that," said mr. rabbit, is the true story of that old race between the hare and the tortoise, and of how the first rabbit came to lose his tail. i've never told it before, and none of my family ever did; but so many stories have been told about the way those things happened that we might just as well have this one, which is the only true one so far as i know. then mr. rabbit lit his pipe and leaned back and smoked. mr. dog said it was a fine story, and he wished he could have seen that race, and mr. turtle looked as if he wanted to say something, and did open his mouth to say it, but mr. crow spoke up, and asked what happened after that to mr. rabbit's twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and how it was that the rest of the rabbits had short tails, too. then mr. rabbit said that that was another story, and mr. squirrel and mr. robin wanted him to tell it right away, but mr. crow said they'd better have supper now, and mr. 'possum thought that was a good plan, and mr. 'coon, too, and then they all hurried around to get up some sticks of wood from down-stairs, and to set the table, and everybody helped, so they could get through early and have a nice long evening. and all the time the snow was coming down outside and piling higher and higher, and they were being snowed in without knowing it, for it was getting too dark to see much when they tried again to look out the window through the gloom of the big deep woods. the fourth snowed-in story the fourth snowed-in story mr. jack rabbit continues his family history "did they have enough left for supper--enough for all the visitors, i mean?" asks the little lady the next evening, when the story teller is ready to go on with the history of the hollow tree. "oh yes, they had plenty for supper, and more, too. they had been getting ready a good while for just such a time as this, and had carried in a lot of food, and they had a good many nice things down in the store-room where the wood was, but they didn't need those yet. they just put on what they had left from their big dinner, and mr. crow stirred up a pan of hot biscuits by his best receipt, and they passed them back and forth across the table so much that mr. 'possum said they went like hot cakes, sure enough, and always took two when they came his way." and they talked a good deal about the stories that mr. 'coon and mr. rabbit had told them, and everybody thought how sly and smart mr. 'coon had been to fool mr. dog that way; and mr. 'coon said that, now he came to think it over, he supposed it was a pretty good trick, though it really hadn't seemed so specially great to him at the time. he said he didn't think it half as smart as mr. tortoise's trick on mr. rabbit's grandpaw hare, when he beat him in the foot-race and went over the fence first, taking mr. hare's tail with him. and then they wondered if that had all really happened as mr. rabbit had told it--all but mr. turtle, who just sat and smiled to himself and didn't say anything at all, except "please pass the biscuits," now and then, when he saw the plate being set down in front of mr. 'possum. then by-and-by they all got through and hurried up and cleared off the table, and lit their pipes, and went back to the fire, and pretty soon jack rabbit began to tell how the rest of the rabbits lost their tails "well," he said, "my twenty-seventh great-grandfather hare didn't go out again for several days. he put up a sign that said 'not at home,' on his door, and then tried a few experiments, to see what could be done. [illustration: tried to splice his property back in place] "he first tried to splice his property back into place, as mr. tortoise had told him he might, but that plan didn't work worth a cent. he never could get it spliced on straight, and if he did get it about right, it would lop over or sag down or something as soon as he moved, and when he looked at himself in the glass he made up his mind that he'd rather do without his nice plumy brush altogether than to go out into society with it in that condition. "so he gave it up and put on some nice all-healing ointment, and before long what there was left of it was all well, and a nice bunch of soft, white cottony fur had grown out over the scar, and grandpaw hare thought when he looked at himself in the glass that it was really quite becoming, though he knew the rest of his family would always be saying things about it, and besides they would laugh at him for letting mr. tortoise beat him in a foot-race. [illustration: grandfather would light his pipe and think it over] "sometimes, when there was nobody around, my grandfather would go out into the sun and light his pipe and lean up against a big stone, or maybe a stump, and think it over. "and one morning, as he sat there thinking, he made up his mind what he would do. mr. lion lived in the big deep woods in those days, and he was king. whenever anything happened among the deep woods people that they couldn't decide for themselves, they went to where king lion lived, in a house all by himself over by the big west hills, and he used to settle the question; and sometimes, when somebody that wasn't very old, and maybe was plump and tender, had done something that wasn't just right, king lion would look at him and growl and say it was too bad for any one so young to do such things, and especially for them to grow up and keep on doing them; so he would have him for breakfast, or maybe for dinner, and that would settle everything in the easiest and shortest way. "of course grandfather hare knew very well that mr. tortoise and mr. fox wouldn't go with him to king lion, for they would be afraid to, after what they had done, so he made up his mind to go alone and tell him the whole story, because he was as sure as anything that king lion would decide that he had really won the race, and would be his friend, which would make all the other deep woods people jealous and proud of him again, and perhaps make them wish they had nice bunches of white cottony fur in the place of long dragging tails that were always in the way. "and then some day he would show king lion where mr. fox and mr. tortoise lived. [illustration: set up his ears and went by, lickety-split] "my grandfather hare didn't stop a minute after he thought of that, but just set out for king lion's house over at the foot of the big west hills. he had to pass by mr. fox's house, and mr. fox called to him, but grandpaw hare just set up his ears as proud as could be and went by, lickety-split, without looking at mr. fox at all. "it was a good way to king lion's house, but grandpaw hare didn't waste any time, and he was there almost before he knew it. "when he got to king lion's door he hammered on the knocker, and when nobody came right away he thought maybe the king was out for a walk. but that wasn't so. king lion had been sick for two or three days, and he was still in bed, and had to get up and get something around him before he could let grandpaw in. "grandpaw hare had sat down on the steps to wait, when all at once the door opened behind him and he felt something grab him by the collar and swing him in and set him down hard on a seat, and then he saw it was king lion, and he didn't much like his looks. [illustration: "'glad to see you,' said king lion; 'i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast'"] "'so it was you, was it, making that noise,' he said. 'well, i'm glad to see you, for i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast.' "then my twenty-seventh great-grandfather knew he'd made a mistake, coming to see king lion when he was feeling that way, and he had to think pretty quick to know what to say. but our family have always been pretty quick in their thoughts, and grandpaw hare spoke right up as polite as could be, and said he would do anything he could to find a nice young plump rabbit for king lion, and that he would even be proud to be a king's breakfast himself, only he wasn't so very young nor so very plump, and, besides, there was that old prophecy about the king and the cotton-tailed rabbit, which of course, he said, king lion must have heard about. "then king lion said that my twenty-seventh great-grandfather was plenty young enough and plenty plump enough, and that he'd never heard of any prophecy about a cotton-tailed rabbit, and that he'd never heard of a cotton-tailed rabbit, either. "then grandpaw hare just got up and turned around, and as he turned he said, as solemnly as he could: "'when the king eats a hare with a cotton tail, then the king's good health will fail. "well, that scared the king a good deal, for he was just getting over one sick spell, and he was afraid if he had another right away he'd die sure. he sat down and asked grandpaw hare to tell him how he came to have a tail like that, and grandpaw told him, and it made the king laugh and laugh, until he got well, and he said it was the best joke he ever heard of, and that he'd have given some of the best ornaments off of his crown to have seen that race. "and the better king lion felt the hungrier he got, and when my grandfather hare asked him if he wouldn't decide the race in his favor, he just glared at him and said if he didn't get out of there and hunt him up a nice, young, plump, long-tailed rabbit, he'd eat him--cotton tail, prophecy, and all--for he didn't go much on prophecies anyway. "then grandpaw hare got right up and said, 'good-day' and backed out and made tracks for the rest of his family, and told them that king lion had just got up from a sick spell that had given him an appetite for long-tailed rabbits. he said that the king had sent him out to get one, and that king lion would most likely be along himself pretty soon. he said the sooner the rabbit family took pattern after the new cotton-tailed style the more apt they'd be to live to a green old age and have descendants. "well, that was a busy day in the big deep woods. the rabbit family got in line by a big smooth stump that they picked out for the purpose, and grandpaw attended to the job for them, and called out 'next!' as they marched by. he didn't have to wait, either, for they didn't know what minute king lion might come. mr. tortoise and mr. fox came along and stopped to see the job, and helped grandpaw now and then when his arm got tired, and by evening there was a pile of tails by that stump as big as king lion's house, and there never was such a call for the all-healing ointment as there was that night in the big deep woods. "and none of our family ever did have tails after that, for they never would grow any more, and all the little new rabbits just had bunches of cotton, too, and that has never changed to this day. "and when king lion heard how he'd been fooled by grandpaw hare with that foolish prophecy that he just made up right there, out of his head, he knew that everybody would laugh at him as much as he had laughed at mr. hare, and he moved out of the country and never came back, and there's never been a king in the big deep woods since, so my twenty-seventh great-grandfather did some good, after all. "and that," said mr. rabbit, "is the whole story of the hare and the tortoise and how the rabbit family lost their tails. it's never been told outside of our family before, but it's true, for it's been handed down, word for word, and if mr. fox or mr. tortoise were alive now they would say so." mr. rabbit filled his pipe and lit it, and mr. crow was just about to make some remarks, when mr. turtle cleared his throat and said: "the story that mr. rabbit has been telling is all true, every word of it-- i was there." then all the deep woods people took their pipes out of their mouths and just looked at mr. turtle with their mouths wide open, and when they could say anything at all, they said: "_you were there!_" you see, they could never get used to the notion of mr. turtle's being so old--as old as their twenty-seventh great-grandfathers would have been, if they had lived. "yes," said mr. turtle, "and it all comes back to me as plain as day. it happened two hundred and fifty-eight years ago last june. they used to call us the tortoise family then, and i was a young fellow of sixty-seven and fond of a joke. but i was surprised when i went sailing over that fence, and i didn't mean to carry off mr. hare's tail. dear me, how time passes! i'm three hundred and twenty-five now, though i don't feel it." then they all looked at mr. turtle again, for though they believed he was old, and might possibly have been there, they thought it pretty strange that he could be the very mr. tortoise who had won the race. mr. 'possum said, pretty soon, that when anybody said a thing like that, there ought to be some way to prove it. then mr. turtle got up and began taking off his coat, and all the others began to get out of the way, for they didn't know what was going to happen to mr. 'possum, and they wanted to be safe; and mr. 'possum rolled under the table, and said that he didn't mean anything--that he loved mr. turtle, and that mr. turtle hadn't understood the way he meant it at all. but mr. turtle wasn't the least bit mad. he just laid off his coat, quietly, and unbuttoned his shirt collar, and told mr. 'coon and mr. crow to look on the back of his shell. and then mr. dog held a candle, and they all looked, one after another, and there, sure enough, carved right in mr. turtle's shell, were the words: beat mr. hare foot-race june , "that," said mr. turtle, "was my greatest joke, and i had it carved on my shell." and all the rest of the forest people said that a thing like that was worth carving on anybody's shell that had one, and when mr. turtle put on his coat they gave him the best seat by the fire, and sat and looked at him and asked questions about it, and finally all went to sleep in their chairs, while the fire burned low and the soft snow was banking up deeper and deeper, outside, in the dark. the "snowed-in" literary club the "snowed-in" literary club mr. rabbit proposes something to pass the time "did the hollow tree people and their company sleep in their chairs all night?" asks the little lady, as soon as she has finished her supper. "and were they snowed in when they woke up next morning?" the story teller is not quite ready to answer. he has to fill his pipe first, and puff a little and look into the fire before he sits down, and the little lady climbs into her place. the little lady knows the story teller, and waits. when he begins to rock a little she knows he has remembered, and then pretty soon he tells her about the snowed-in literary club. well, the hollow tree people went to sleep there by the fire and they stayed asleep a long while, for they were tired with all the good times and all the good things to eat they had been having. and when they woke up once, they thought it was still night, for it was dark, though they thought it must be about morning, because the fire was nearly out, and mr. 'possum said if there was anybody who wasn't too stiff he wished they'd put on a stick of wood, as he was frozen so hard that he knew if he tried to move he'd break. so mr. turtle, who had been drawn up mostly into his shell, and mr. dog, who was used to getting up at all hours of the night, stretched and yawned and crept down after some sticks and dry pieces and built up a good fire, and pretty soon they were all asleep again, as sound as ever. and when they woke up next time it was still just as dark, and the fire had gone almost out again, and mr. 'coon and mr. crow, too, said they didn't understand it, at all, for a fire like that would generally keep all night and all day too, and here two fires had burned out and it was still as dark as ever. then mr. crow lit a splinter and looked at the clock, and said he must have forgotten to wind it, or maybe it was because it was so cold, as it had stopped a little after twelve, and mr. 'possum said that from the way he felt it was no wonder the clock had stopped, for if he could tell anything by his feelings it must be at least day after to-morrow. he said he felt so empty that every time he breathed he could hear the wind whistle through his ribs. that made mr. rabbit think of something, and he stepped over to the window. then he pushed it up a little, and put out his hand. but he didn't put it out far, for it went right into something soft and cold. mr. rabbit came over to where mr. crow was poking up the fire, bringing some of the stuff with him. "now," he said, "you can all see what's the matter. we're snowed in. the snow is up over the window, and that's why it's so dark. it may be up over the top of the tree, and we may have been asleep here for a week, for all we know." then they all gathered around to look at the snow, and went to the window and got some more, and tried to tell whether it was day or night, and mr. crow and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum ran up-stairs to their rooms, and called back that it was day, for the snow hadn't come quite up to the tops of their windows. and it _was_ day, sure enough, and quite late in the afternoon at that, but they couldn't tell just what day it was, or whether they had slept one night, or two nights, or even longer. well, of course the first thing was to get something to eat and a big fire going, and even mr. 'possum scrambled around and helped carry wood, so he could get warm quicker. they still had a good deal to eat in the hollow tree, and they were not much worried. mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon remembered another time they were snowed in, when mr. crow had fed them on johnnie cake and gravy, and they thought that if everything else gave out it would be great fun to live like that again. when they had finished eating breakfast, or dinner, or whatever it was, for it was nearer supper-time than anything else, they began to think of things to do to amuse themselves, and they first thought they'd have some more stories, like mr. rabbit's. but mr. rabbit, who is quite literary, and a good poet, said it would be better to make it a kind of a club, and each have a poem, or a story, or a song; or if anybody couldn't do any of those he must dance a jig. [illustration: got around the table and began to work] then they all remembered a poetry club that mr. rabbit had got up once and how nice it was, and they all said that was just the thing, and they got around the table and began to work away at whatever they were going to do for the "snowed-in" literary club. mr. rabbit wasn't very long at his piece, and pretty soon he jumped up and said he was through, and mr. 'possum said that if that was so, he might go down and bring up some wood and warm up the brains of the rest of them. so mr. rabbit stirred up the fire, and sat down and looked into it, and read over his poem to himself and changed a word here and there, and thought how nice it was; and by-and-by mr. dog said he was through, and mr. robin said he was through, too. then mr. rabbit said he thought that would be more than enough for one evening anyway, and that the others might finish their pieces to-morrow and have them ready for the next evening. so then they all gathered around the fire again, and everybody said that as mr. rabbit had thought of the club first he must be the first to read his piece. mr. rabbit said he was sure it would be more modest for some one else to read first, but that he was willing to start things going if they wanted him to. then he stood up, and turned a little to the light, and took a nice position, and read his poem, which was called snowed in _by j. rabbit_ oh, the snow lies white in the woods to-night-- the snow lies soft and deep; and under the snow, i know, oh, ho! the flowers of the summer sleep. the flowers of the summer sleep, i know, snowed in like you and me-- under the sheltering leaves, oh, ho, as snug and as warm as we-- as snug and as warm from the winter storm as we of the hollow tree. snowed in are we in the hollow tree, and as snug and as warm as they we be-- snowed in, snowed in, are we, are we, and as snug as can be in the hollow tree, the wonderful hollow tree. oh, the snow lies cold on wood and wold, but never a bit comes in, as we smoke and eat, and warm our feet, and sit by the fire and spin: and what care we for the winter gales, and what care we for the snow-- as we sit by the fire and spin our tales and think of the things we know? as we spin our tales in the winter gales and wait for the snow to go? oh, the winds blow high and the winds blow low, but what care we for the wind and snow, spinning our tales of the long ago as snug as snug can be? for never a bit comes in, comes in, as we sit by the fire and spin, and spin the tales we know, of the long ago, in the wonderful hollow tree. mr. rabbit sat down then, and of course everybody spoke up as soon as they could get their breath and said how nice it was, and how mr. rabbit always expressed himself better in poetry than anybody else could in prose, and how the words and rhymes just seemed to flow along as if he were reeling it off of a spinning-wheel and could keep it up all day. and mr. rabbit smiled and said he supposed it came natural, and that sometimes it was harder to stop than it was to start, and that he _could_ keep it up all day as easy as not. then mr. 'possum said he'd been afraid that was what _would_ happen, and that if mr. rabbit hadn't stopped pretty soon that he--mr. 'possum, of course--would have been so tangled up in his mind that somebody would have had to come and undo the knot. [illustration: mr. 'possum wanted to know what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails] then he said he wanted to ask some questions. he said he wanted to know what "wold" meant, and also what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails. he said he hadn't noticed that any of them were spinning their tails, and that he couldn't do it if he tried. he said that he could curl his tail and hang from a limb or a peg by it, and he had found it a good way to go to sleep when things were on his mind, and that he generally had better dreams when he slept that way. he said that of course mr. rabbit's poem had been about tails of the long ago, and he supposed that he meant the ones which his family had lost about three hundred years ago, according to mr. turtle, but that he didn't believe they ever could spin them much, or that mr. rabbit could spin what he had left. mr. 'possum was going on to say a good deal more on the subject, but mr. rabbit interrupted him. he said he didn't suppose there was anybody else in the world whose food seemed to do him so little good as mr. 'possum's, and that very likely it was owing to the habit he had of sleeping with his head hanging down in that foolish way. he said he had never heard of anybody who ate so much and knew so little. of course, he said, everybody might not know what "wold" meant, as it wasn't used much except by poets who used the best words, but that it meant some kind of a field, and it was better for winter use, as it rhymed with cold and was nearly always used that way. as for mr. 'possum's other remark, he said he couldn't imagine how anybody would suppose that the tales he meant were those other tails which were made to wave or wag or flirt or hang from limbs by, instead of being stories to be told or written, just as the deep woods people were telling and writing them now. he said there was an old expression about having a peg to hang a tale on, and that it was most likely gotten up by one of mr. 'possum's ancestors or somebody who knew as little about such things as mr. 'possum, and that another old expression which said "thereby hangs a tale" was just like it, because the kind of tales he meant didn't hang, but were always told or written, while the other kind always did hang, and were never told or written, but were only sometimes told or written about, and it made him feel sad, he said, to have to explain his poem in that simple way. then mr. 'possum said that he was sorry mr. rabbit felt that way, because he didn't feel at all that way himself, and had only been trying to discuss mr. rabbit's nice poem. he said that of course mr. rabbit couldn't be expected to know much about tails, never having had a real one himself, and would be likely to get mixed up when he tried to write on the subject. he said he wouldn't mention such things again, and that he was sorry and hoped that mr. rabbit would forgive him. and mr. rabbit said that he was sorry, too--sorry for mr. 'possum--and that he thought whoever was ready had better read the next piece. [illustration: mr. dog said he had made a few sketches] then mr. dog said that he supposed that he was as ready as he'd ever be, and that he'd like to read his and get it off his mind, so he wouldn't be so nervous and could enjoy listening to the others. he wasn't used to such things, he said, and couldn't be original like mr. rabbit, but he knew a story that was told among the fowls in mr. man's barnyard, and that he had tried to write it in a simple way that even mr. 'possum would understand. his story was about a duck--a young and foolish duck--who got into trouble, and mr. dog said he had made a few sketches to go with it, and that they could be handed around while he was reading. now he would begin, he said, and the name of his story was erastus, the robber duck _by mr. dog, with sketches_ once upon a time there was a foolish young duck named erastus (called 'rastus, for short). he was an only child, and lived with his mother in a small house on the bank of a pond at the foot of the farm-yard. erastus thought himself a brave duck; he would chase his shadow, and was not afraid of quite a large worm. as he grew older he did not tell his mother everything. once he slipped away, and went swimming alone. then a worm larger than any he had ever seen came up out of the water, and would have swallowed erastus if he had not reached the shore just in time, and gone screaming to his mother. his mother said the great worm was a water-snake, and she told erastus snake-stories which gave him bad dreams. erastus grew quite fast, and soon thought he was nearly grown up. once he tried to smoke with some other young ducks behind the barn. it made erastus sick, and his mother found it out. she gave erastus some unpleasant medicine, and made him stay in bed a week. erastus decided that he would run away. while his mother was taking her morning bath he packed his things in a little valise she had given him for christmas. then he slipped out the back door and made for the woods as fast as he could go. he had made up his mind to be a robber, and make a great deal of money by taking it away from other people. he had begun by taking a small toy pistol which belonged to mr. man's little boy. he wore it at his side. his mother had read to him about robbers. erastus also had on his nice new coat and pretty vest. he did not rob anybody that day. there was nothing in the woods but trees and vines. erastus tripped over the vines and hurt himself, and lost the toy pistol. then it came night, and he was very lonesome. for the first time in his life erastus missed his mother. there was a nice full moon, but erastus did not care for it. some of the black shadows about him looked as if they might be live things. by-and-by he heard a noise near him. erastus the robber duck started to run; but he was lost, and did not know which way to go. all at once he was face to face with some large animal. it wore a long cape and a mask. it also carried a real pistol which it pointed at erastus and told him to hold up his wings. erastus the robber duck held up his wings as high as possible, and tried to get them higher. it did not seem to erastus that he could hold them up high enough. his mother had read to him about robbers. then the robber took all the things that erastus had in his pockets. he took his new knife and his little watch; also the nice bag which his mother had given him for christmas. erastus kept his wings up a good while after the robber had gone. he was afraid the robber had not gone far enough. when he put them down they were cramped and sore. then he heard something again, and thought it was the robber coming back after his clothes. erastus fled with great speed, taking off his garments as he ran. at last he reached the edge of the wood, not far from where he lived. it was just morning, and his mother saw him coming. she looked sad, and embraced him. it was the first time erastus had been out all night. erastus was not allowed to go swimming or even to leave the yard for a long time. whenever he remembered that night in the woods he shivered, and his mother thought he had a chill. then she would put him to bed and give him some of the unpleasant medicine. erastus did not tell his mother _all_ that had happened that night for a good while. he was ashamed to do so. but one day when he seemed quite sick and his mother was frightened, he broke down and told her all about it. then his mother forgave him, and he got well right away. after that erastus behaved, and grew to be the best and largest duck in mr. man's farm-yard. * * * * * while mr. dog had been reading his story the hollow tree people--the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow--had been leaning forward and almost holding their breath, and mr. dog felt a good deal flattered when he noticed how interested they were. when he sat down he saw that mr. 'possum's mouth was open and his tongue fairly hanging out with being so excited. [illustration: mr. 'possum said it might be a good enough story, but it couldn't be true] then before any of the others could say a word, mr. 'possum said that it might be a good enough story, but that it couldn't be true. he said that he wasn't a judge of stories, but that he was a judge of ducks--young ducks, or old either--and that no young duck could pass the night in the big deep woods and get home at sunrise or any other time, unless all the other animals were snowed in or locked up in a menagerie, and that the animal that had met erastus might have robbed him, of course, but he would have eaten him first, and then carried off what was left, unless, of course, that robber was a rabbit, and he said that he didn't believe any rabbit would have spunk enough to be in that business. mr. rabbit was about to say something just then, but mr. crow and mr. 'coon both interrupted and said they thought mr. 'possum was right for once, except about mr. rabbit, who was plenty brave enough, but too much of a gentleman to be out robbing people at night when he could be at home in bed asleep. then mr. dog said: "i don't know whether the story is true or not. i wrote it down as i heard it among mr. man's fowls, and i know the duck that they still call erastus, and he's the finest, fattest--" but mr. dog didn't get any further. for the hollow tree people broke in and said, all together: "oh, take us to see him, mr. dog! or perhaps you could bring him to see us. invite him to spend an evening with us in the hollow tree. tell him we will have him for dinner and invite our friends. oh, do, mr. dog!" but mr. dog knew what they meant by having him for dinner, and he said he guessed mr. man would not be willing to have erastus go out on an invitation like that, and that if erastus came, mr. man might take a notion to visit the hollow tree himself. then the hollow tree people all said, "oh, never mind about erastus! he's probably old and disagreeable anyway. we don't think we would care for him. but it was a nice story--very nice, indeed." and pretty soon mr. dog said he'd been thinking about the robber animal, too, and had made up his mind that it might have been one of mr. cat's family--for mr. man's little boy and girl had a book with a nice poem in it about a robber cat, and a robber dog, too, though he didn't think that the dog could have been any of _his_ family. mr. cat, he said, would not be likely to care for erastus, feathers and all, that way, and no doubt it really was mr. cat who robbed him. mr. dog said that he had once heard of a mr. cat who wanted to be king--perhaps after mr. lion had gone out of the king business, and that there was an old poem about it that mr. dog's mother used to sing to him, but he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. he said there were a good many things in it he didn't suppose the hollow tree people would understand because it was about a different kind of a country--where his mother had been born--but that if they really would like to hear it he would try to remember it for them, as it would be something different from anything they had been used to. then the hollow tree people and their friends all said how glad they would be to hear it, for they always liked to hear about new things and new parts of the country; so mr. dog said that if some of the others would read or sing or dance their jigs first, perhaps it would come to him and he would sing it for them by and by. then mr. robin spoke up and said that he thought mr. dog's story had a good moral in it, and he said that _his_ story (mr. robin's, of course) was that kind of a story, too. perhaps he'd better tell it now, he said, while their minds were running that way, though as for mr. 'possum's mind it seemed to be more on how good erastus might be cooked than how good he had become in his behavior. he was sorry, he said, that his story didn't have any ducks in it, young or old, but that perhaps mr. 'possum and the others would be willing to wait for the nice pair of cooked ones now hanging in mr. crow's pantry, to be served at the end of the literary exercises. but mr. 'possum said "no," he wasn't willing to wait any longer--that mr. dog's story and the mention of those nice cooked fowls was more than he could bear, and that if it was all the same to mr. robin and the others he voted to have supper first, and then he'd be better able to stand a strictly moral story on a full stomach. mr. crow and mr. 'coon said that was a good idea, and mr. rabbit said he thought they'd better postpone mr. robin's story until the next evening, as mr. 'possum had taken up so much time with his arguments that he must be hungrier than usual, and if he put in as much more time eating, it would be morning before they were ready to go on with the literary programme. then they all looked at the clock and saw that it really was getting late, though that was the only way they could tell, for the snow covered all the windows and made no difference between day and night in the hollow tree. the "snowed-in" literary club--part ii the "snowed-in" literary club part ii mr. rabbit starts some new amusements it was still dark in the hollow tree when the deep woods people woke up next morning, but they knew what was the matter now, and could tell by the clock and the fire that it was day outside, even before mr. 'possum ran up to his room and looked out the window and came back shivering, because he said the snow was blowing and drifting and some had drifted in around his windows and made his room as cold as all outdoors. he said he was willing to stay by the fire while this spell lasted, and take such exercise as he needed by moving his chair around to the table when he wanted to eat. mr. 'coon said that mr. 'possum might exercise himself on a little wood for the cook-stove in mr. crow's kitchen if he wanted any breakfast, and that if this spell kept up long enough, they wouldn't have anything left but exercise to keep them alive. so mr. 'possum went down-stairs after an armful of stove-wood, and he stayed a good while, though they didn't notice it at the time. then they all helped with the breakfast, and after breakfast they pushed back all the things and played blind man's buff, for mr. rabbit said that even if moving his chair from the fire to the table and back again was enough exercise for mr. 'possum, it wasn't enough for _him_, and the others said so, too. [illustration: so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be "it"] so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be it first, and they all stood in a row and mr. rabbit said: "hi, ho, hickory dee one for you and one for me; one for the ones you try to find, and one for the one that wears the blind," which was a rigmarole mr. rabbit had made up himself to use in games where somebody had to be "it," and mr. rabbit said it around and around the circle on the different ones--one word for each one--until he came to the word blind and that was mr. 'possum, who had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them, until he caught mr. turtle, who had to be "it" quite often, because he couldn't get out of the way as well as the others. [illustration: mr. 'possum had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them] and mr. 'possum was "it" a good deal, too, and mr. 'coon, and all the rest, though mr. robin was "it" less than anybody, because he was so little and spry that he could get out of the way. then when they were tired of "blind man's bluff" they played "pussy wants a corner" and "forfeits," and mr. 'possum had to make a speech to redeem his forfeit, and he began: "ladies and gentlemen" (though there were no ladies present)--"i am pleased to see you all here this evening" (though it wasn't evening) "looking so well dressed and well fed. it is better to be well fed than well dressed. it is better to be well dressed than not dressed at all. it is better to be not dressed at all than not fed at all. ladies and gentlemen, i thank you for your kind attention and applause"--though they hadn't applauded yet, but they did, right away, and said it was a good speech, and mr. crow said it reminded him that it was about dinner-time, and that he would need some more wood. so mr. 'possum got right up to get the stove-wood again, which everybody thought was very good of mr. 'possum, who wasn't usually so spry and willing. then in the afternoon they had games again, but nice quiet games, for they were all glad to sit down, and they played "button! button! who's got the button?" and nobody could tell when mr. 'possum had the button, for his face didn't show it, because he was nearly always looking straight into the fire, and seemed to be thinking about something away off. and when the fire got low, he always jumped up and offered to go down into the store-room after the wood, and they all said how willing and spry mr. 'possum was getting all at once, and when he stayed a good while down-stairs they didn't think anything about it--not at the time--or if they did they only thought he was picking out the best pieces to burn. they played "drop the handkerchief", too, and when they got through mr. rabbit performed some tricks with the handkerchief and the button that made even mr. 'possum pay attention because they were so wonderful. there was one trick especially that mr. rabbit did a great many times because they liked it so much, and were so anxious to guess how it was done. mr. rabbit told them it was a trick that had come down to him from his thirty-second great-grandfather, and must never be told to any one. [illustration: would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head] it was a trick where he laid the button in the centre of the handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them down each time so that they could see that the button was still there, and he would let them press on it, too, to prove it, and then when he would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there would be no button at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head, or in mr. 'possum's pocket, or some place like that. but one time, when mr. rabbit had done it over and over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief by the corners nearest him, and there was the button sticking fast, right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to mr. rabbit, and by some mistake mr. rabbit had turned the button upside down! then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and mr. rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family, and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all promised, and mr. rabbit told them the adage, which was: "when beeswax grows on the button-tree, no one knows what the weather'll be." "that," said mr. rabbit, "is a very old adage. i don't know what it means exactly, but i'm sure it means something, because old adages always do mean something, though often nobody can find out just what it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages. there are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got my ancestors out of trouble. when we didn't have an old one to fit the trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything special, and could be used almost anywhere." then the deep woods people all said there was never anybody who knew so much and could do so many things as mr. jack rabbit, and how proud they all were to have him in their midst, and mr. rabbit showed them how to do all the tricks he knew, and they all practised them and tried them on each other until mr. crow said he must look after the supper, and mr. 'possum ran right off after an armful of stove-wood, and everybody helped with everything there was to do, for they were having such a good time and were so hungry. and after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked a little before anybody said anything, until by-and-by mr. rabbit said that they would go on now with the literary club, and that mr. robin might read the story he had mentioned the night before. so mr. robin got up, and stood on a chair, and made a nice bow. he said it was not really his own story he had written, but one that his grandmother used to tell him sometimes, though he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. then mr. rabbit spoke up and said that that didn't matter, that of course everybody couldn't be original, and that the story itself was the main thing and the way you told it. he said if mr. robin would go right on with the story now it would save time. so then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes--all except mr. robin, who began right off to read his story: the discontented fox the discontented fox mr. robin tells how a fox learned a good lesson by taking a long journey once upon a time there was a fox who lived at the foot of a hill and had a _nice garden_. one morning when he began to hoe in it he got tired, and the sun was _very hot_. then the fox didn't like to hoe any more, and made up his mind that it wasn't very pleasant to have a garden, anyway. so then he started out to travel and find _pleasant things_. he put on his best clothes, and the first house he came to belonged to a rabbit who kept bees. and the rabbit showed the fox his bees and how to take out the honey. and the fox said, "what _pleasant work_!" and wanted to take out honey too. but when he did there was a bee on the honey, and it stung the fox on the nose. and that hurt the fox, and his nose began to swell up, and he said: "this is not pleasant work _at all_!" and of course it wasn't--not for _him_--though the rabbit seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox travelled on, and the next house he came to belonged to a crow who made pies. and the fox looked at him awhile and said, "what _pleasant work_!" and the crow let the fox help him, and when the fox went to take a pie out of the oven he burnt his fingers _quite badly_. then he said, "no, it is _not_ pleasant work--not for _me_!" and that was true, though the crow seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox went on again, and the next house he came to belonged to a 'coon who milked cows. and the fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he said: "what pleasant work that _is_! let _me_ milk." so the 'coon let the fox milk, and the cow put her foot in the milk-pail and upset it _all over_ the fox's nice _new clothes_. and the fox was mad, and said: "this work is not in the _least_ pleasant!" and he _hurried away_, though the 'coon seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. and the next house the fox came to belonged to a cat who played the fiddle. and the fox listened awhile and said: "what pleasant work that _must be_!" and he borrowed the cat's fiddle. but when he started down the road playing, a man ran around the corner and shot a loud gun at him, and that was not pleasant, _either_, though the cat seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox kept on travelling and _doing_ things that he thought would be _pleasant_, but that did not turn out to _be_ pleasant--not for _him_--until by-and-by he had travelled _clear around the world_ and had come up on the other side, _back_ to his _own garden_ again. and his garden was just the same as he had left it, only the things had grown bigger, and there were _some weeds_. and the fox jumped over the fence and commenced to _hoe_ the _weeds_, and pretty soon he said, "why, this is _pleasant_!" then he hoed some more, and said, "why, what pleasant work _this is_!" so he kept on hoeing and finding it pleasant until by-and-by the weeds were _all gone_, and the _rabbit_ and the _crow_ and the _cat_ and the _'coon_ came and traded him honey and pies and milk and music for vegetables, because he had the best garden in the world. and he _has yet_! * * * * * when mr. robin got through and sat down, mr. squirrel spoke up and said it was a good story because it had a moral lesson in it and taught folks to like the things they knew best how to do, and mr. 'possum said yes, that might be so, but that the story couldn't be true, because none of those animals would have enjoyed seeing that fox leave them, but would have persuaded him to stay and help them, and would have taught him to do most of the work. then mr. robin spoke up and said that mr. 'possum thought everybody was like himself, and that anyway mr. 'possum didn't need the lesson in that story, for he already liked to do the things he could do best, which were to eat and sleep and let other people do the work, though of course he had been very good about getting the wood, lately, which certainly was unusual. then mr. 'possum said he didn't see why mr. robin should speak in that cross way when he had only meant to be kind and show him the mistake in his story, so he could fix it right. and mr. rabbit said that as mr. 'possum seemed to know so much how stories and poems ought to be written, perhaps he'd show now what he could do in that line himself. mr. 'possum said he hadn't written anything because it was too much trouble, but that he would tell them a story if they would like to hear it--something that had really happened, because he had been there, and was old enough to remember. but before he began mr. robin said that as they had not cared much about his story he would like to recite a few lines he had thought of, which would perhaps explain how he felt, and all the animals said, "of course, go right on," and mr. robin bowed and recited a little poem he had made, called only me _by c. robin_ how came a little bird like me a place in this fine group to win? my mind is small--it has to be-- the little place i keep it in. how came a little bird like me to be here in the hollow tree? when all the others know so much, and are so strong and gifted too, how can i dare to speak of such as i can know, and think, and do? how can a little bird like me belong here in the hollow tree? [illustration: mr. possum said he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story] well, when mr. robin finished that, all the others spoke right up and said that mr. robin must never write anything so sad as that again. they said his story was just as good as it could be, and that mr. robin was one of the smartest ones there; and mr. 'possum burst into tears, and said that he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story, and that some time, when they were all alone, mr. robin must tell it to him again, and he would try to have sense enough to understand it. then he ran over to mr. robin, and was going to embrace him and weep on his shoulder, and would very likely have mashed him if mr. turtle hadn't dragged him back to his seat and told him that he had done damage enough to people's feelings without killing anybody, and the best thing he could do now would be to go on with a story of his own if he had any. but mr. 'possum said he was too sleepy now, so mr. dog sang the poem which he had promised the evening before because, he said, singing would be a nice thing to go to sleep on. mr. dog's song was called the cat who would be king there was cat who kept a store, with other cats for customers. his milk and mice all packed in ice his catnip all in canisters. [illustration: and so this cat grew rich and fat] fresh milk he furnished every day-- two times a day and sometimes three-- and so this cat grew rich and fat and proud as any cat could be. but though so fat and rich he grew he was not satisfied at all-- at last quoth he, "a king i'll be of other cats both great and small." [illustration] then hied he to the tinner cat, who made for him a tinsel crown, and on the street, a king complete, he soon went marching up and down. [illustration] now, many cats came out to see, and some were filled with awe at him; while some, alack, behind his back did laugh and point a paw at him. mice, milk, and catnip did he scorn; he went to business less and less-- and everywhere he wore an air of arrogance and haughtiness. [illustration: his clerks] his clerks ate catnip all day long-- they spent much time in idle play; they left the mice from off the ice-- they trusted cats who could not pay. while happy in his tin-shop crown each day the king went marching out, elate because he thought he was the kind of king you read about. [illustration: a solemn look was in his face] but lo, one day, he strolled too far, and in a dim and dismal place a cat he met, quite small, and yet a solemn look was in his face. one fiery eye this feline wore-- a waif he was of low degrees-- no gaudy dress did he possess, nor yet a handsome cat was he. but lo, he smote that spurious king and stripped him of his tinsel crown, then like the wind full close behind he chased his highness into town. with cheers his subjects saw him come. he did not pause--he did not stop, but straight ahead he wildly fled till he was safe within his shop. he caught his breath and gazed about-- a sorry sight did he behold: no catnip there or watchful care-- no mice and milk and joy of old. [illustration: quoth he, "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay"] he heaved a sigh and dropped a tear-- he sent those idle clerks away-- quoth he, "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay." with care once more he runs his store, his catnip all in canisters-- his milk and mice all packed in ice, and humbly serves his customers. mr. 'possum's great story mr. 'possum's great story mr. 'possum tells the strange adventures of the 'possum family, to the surprise of his friends "now this," said the story teller, "is the story that mr. possum told the snowed-in literary club in the hollow tree. it must be a true story, because mr. 'possum said so, and, besides, anybody that knows mr. 'possum would know that he could never in the world have made it up out of his head." the little lady doesn't quite like that. "but mr. 'possum is smart," she says. "he knows ever so much." "oh yes, of course, and that's why he never _has_ to make up things. he just tells what he knows, and this time he told "how uncle silas and aunt melissy moved "you may remember," he said, "my telling you once about uncle silas and aunt melissy lovejoy, who lived in a nice place just beyond the wide paw-paw hollows, and how uncle silas once visited cousin glenwood in town and came home all dressed up, leading a game chicken, and with a bag of shinny-sticks, and a young man to wait on him; and how aunt melissy--instead of being pleased, as uncle silas thought she would be--got mad when she saw him, and made him and the young man take off all their nice clothes and go to work in the garden, and kept them at it with that bag of shinny-sticks until fall.[ ] "well, this story is about them, too. i went to live with them soon after that, because i lost both of my parents one night when mr. man was hunting in the black bottoms for something to put in a pan with some sweet potatoes he had raised that year, and i suppose i would have been used with sweet potatoes too if i hadn't come away from there pretty lively instead of trying our old playing-dead trick on mr. man and his friends. "i thought right away that mr. man might know the trick, so i didn't wait to try it myself, but took out for the wide paw-paw hollows, to visit uncle silas lovejoy, who was an uncle on my mother's side, and aunt melissy and my little cousins; and they all seemed glad to see me, especially my little cousins, until they found they had to give me some of their things and most of their food, because i was young and growing, besides being quite sad about my folks, and so, of course, had to eat a good deal to keep well and from taking my loss too hard. "but by-and-by uncle lovejoy said that he didn't believe that he and the hired man--who was the same one he had brought home to wait on him when he came from town--to be his valet, he said--though he got to be a hired man right after aunt melissy met him and got hold of the shinny-sticks--aunt melissy being a spry, stirring person who liked to see people busy. i remember how she used to keep me and my little cousins busy until sometimes i wished i had stayed with my folks and put up with the sweet potatoes and let uncle silas and his family alone." mr. 'possum stopped to light his pipe, and mr. rabbit said that he supposed, of course, mr. 'possum knew his story and how to tell it, but that if he ever intended to finish what uncle lovejoy had said about himself and the hired man he wished he'd get at it pretty soon. mr. 'possum said of course he meant to, as soon as he could get his breath, and think a minute. "well, then," he said, "uncle silas told aunt melissy that he didn't believe he and the hired man could raise and catch enough for the family since i had come to stay with them, and he thought they had better move farther west to a place where the land was better and where mr. man's chickens were not kept up in such close, unhealthy places, but were allowed to roost out in the open air, on the fences and in the trees. he said he didn't think their house was quite stylish enough either, which he knew would strike aunt melissy, who was a glenwood, and primpy, and fond of the best things. "so then we began to pack up right away, and uncle silas and aunt melissy quarrelled a good deal about what was worth taking and what wasn't, and they took turns scolding the hired man about a good many things he didn't do and almost all of the things he did do, and my little cousins and i had a fine time running through the empty rooms and playing with things we had never seen before, but we had to keep out of aunt melissy's reach if we wanted to enjoy it much. [illustration: aunt melissy had arranged a bundle for uncle silas, and she had fixed up the hired man too] "well, by-and-by we were all packed up and ready to start. we had everything in bundles or tied together, and aunt melissy had arranged a big bundle for uncle silas to carry, and several things to tie and hang about on his person in different places, and she had fixed up the hired man too, besides some bundles for me and my little cousins. [illustration: didn't look as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd] "aunt melissy said she would take charge of the lunch-basket and lead the way, and she was all dressed up and carried an umbrella, and didn't look much as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd. "it was pretty early when we started, for it was getting dangerous to camp out in that section, and we wanted to get as far as we could the first day, though we didn't any of us have any idea then how long a trip we _would_ make that day, nor of the way we were going to make it. nobody could guess a guess like that, even if he was the best guesser in the world and made his living that way." mr. 'possum stopped to light his pipe again, and said that if anybody wanted a chance to guess how far they went that first day and how they travelled, they could guess now. but the hollow tree people said they didn't want to guess, and they did want mr. 'possum to go ahead and tell them about it. "well," said mr. 'possum, "we travelled fifty miles that first day, and we travelled it in less than two hours." "fifty miles in two hours!" said all the hollow tree people. and jack rabbit said: "why, a menagerie like that couldn't travel fifty miles in two years!" "but we did, though," said mr. 'possum; "we travelled it in a balloon." "in a balloon!" "well, not exactly in a balloon, but _with_ a balloon. it happened just as i'm going to tell you. "we went along pretty well until we got to the wide grass lands, though aunt melissy scolded uncle silas a good deal because he got behind and didn't stand up in a nice stylish way with all the things he had to carry, and she used her umbrella once on the hired man because he dropped the clock. "when we got out to the wide grass lands there was a high east wind blowing, getting ready for a storm, and when we got on top of a little grassy hill close to the wide blue water it blew uncle silas and the hired man so they could hardly stand up, and it turned aunt melissy's umbrella wrong side out, which made her mad, and she said that it was uncle silas's fault and mine, and that she had never wanted to move anyway. "but just then one of my little cousins looked up in the sky and said, 'oh, look at that funny bird!' and we all looked up, and there was a great big long bag of a thing coming right toward us, not very high up, and uncle silas spoke up and said 'that's a balloon,' for uncle silas had seen one in town when he was there visiting cousin glenwood, and the hired man, too. then while we were all standing there watching it, we saw that there was a long rope that hung from the balloon most to the ground, and that it had something tied to the end of it (a big iron thing with a lot of hooks on it), and that it was swooping down straight toward us. "uncle silas called out as loud as he could, 'that's the anchor! look out!' but it was too late to look out, for it was coming as fast as the wind blew the balloon, and uncle silas and the hired man being loaded with the things couldn't move very quick, and the rest of us were too scared to know which way to jump, and down came that thing right among us, and i saw it catch among uncle silas's furniture and the hired man's, and i heard uncle silas say, 'grab hold, all of you' and we all did, some one way and some another, and away we went. "well, it was certainly very curious how we all were lucky enough to get hold of that anchor, with all our bundles and things; but of course we could do it better than if we had not been given those nice useful tails which belong to our family. i had hold that way, and some of the others did, too. uncle silas didn't need to hold on at all, for some of the furniture was tied to him, and he just sat back in a chair that was hung on behind and took it easy, though he did drop some of his things when he first got aboard, and aunt melissy scolded him for that as soon as she caught her breath and got over being frightened and was sitting up on her part of the anchor enjoying the scenery. [illustration: the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family] "i never had such a trip as that before, and never expect to have one again. the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family, and we were all afraid we would be let down in it and drowned; but the people who were in the balloon threw out something heavy which we thought at first they were throwing at us, but it must have been something to make the balloon go up; for we did go up until aunt melissy said if we'd just get a little nearer one of those clouds she'd step out on it and live there, as she'd always wanted to do since she was a child. "then we all sat up and held on tight, above and below, and said what a nice day it was to travel, and that we'd always travel that way hereafter; and uncle silas and the hired man unhooked their furniture, so they could land easier when the time came, and aunt melissy passed around the lunch, and we looked down and saw the water and the land again and a lot of houses and trees, and aunt melissy said that nobody could ever make her believe the world was that big if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. "and uncle silas and the hired man said that of course this was going pretty fast, but that they had travelled a good deal faster sometimes when they were in town with cousin glenwood, and pretty soon he showed us the town where cousin glenwood lived, and he and the hired man tried to point out the house to us, but they couldn't agree about which it was because the houses didn't look the same from up there in the air as they did from down on the ground. "i know i shall never forget that trip. we saw ever so many different mr. men and mr. dogs, and animals of every kind, and houses that had chimneys taller than any tree, and a good many things that even uncle silas did not know about. then by-and-by we came to some woods again--the biggest kind of big deep woods--and we saw that we were getting close to the tree-tops, and we were all afraid we would get hit by the branches and maybe knocked off with our things. "and pretty soon, sure enough, that anchor did drop right down among the trees, and such a clapping and scratching as we did get! "we shut our eyes and held on, and some of our furniture was brushed off of uncle silas and the hired man, and aunt melissy lost her umbrella, and i lost a toy chicken, which i could never find again. then all at once there was a big sudden jerk that jarred uncle silas loose, and made aunt melissy holler that she was killed, and knocked the breath out of the rest of us for a few minutes. "but we were all there, and the anchor was fast on the limb of a big tree--a tree almost as big as the hollow tree, and hollow, just like it, with a nice handy place to go in. "so when we got our senses back we picked up all our things that we could find, and moved into the new place, and aunt melissy looked at the clock, which was still running, and it was just a little over two hours since we started. "then pretty soon we heard mr. man and his friends who had been up in the balloon coming, and we stayed close inside till they had taken the anchor and everything away, and after that, when it was getting dark, uncle silas and the hired man went out and found, not very far off, where there were some nice chickens that roosted in handy places, and brought home two or three, and aunt melissy set up the stove and cooked up a good supper, and we all sat around the kitchen fire, and the storm that the east wind had been blowing up came along sure enough and it rained all night, but we were snug and dry, and went to sleep mostly in beds made down on the floor, and lay there listening to the rain and thinking what a nice journey we'd had and what a good new home we'd found. "and it _was_ a good place, for i lived there till i grew up, and if i'm not mistaken some of uncle silas's and aunt melissy's children live there still. i haven't heard from any of them for a long time, but i am thinking of going on a visit over that way in the spring, and if that balloon is still running i'm going to travel with it. "and that," said mr. 'possum, "is a true story--all true, every word, for i was there." nobody said anything for a minute or two after mr. 'possum had finished his story--nobody _could_ say anything. then mr. rabbit coughed a little and remarked that he was glad that mr. 'possum said that the story was true, for no one would ever have suspected it. he said if mr. 'possum hadn't said it was true he would have thought it was one of those pleasant dreams that mr. 'possum had when he slept hanging to a peg head down. [illustration: mr. turtle said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true] but mr. turtle, who had been sitting with his eyes shut and looking as if he were asleep, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true--at least, _some_ of it was true; for he himself had been sitting in the door of his house on the shore of the wide blue water when the balloon passed over, and he had seen uncle silas lovejoy's family sitting up there anchored and comfortable; and he had picked up a chair that uncle silas had dropped, and he had it in his house to this day, it being a good strong chair and better than any that was made nowadays. well, of course after that nobody said anything about mr. 'possum's story not being true, for they remembered how old and wise mr. turtle was and could always prove things, and they all talked about it a great deal, and asked mr. 'possum a good many questions. they said how nice it was to know somebody who had had an adventure like that, and mr. rabbit changed his seat so he could be next to mr. 'possum, because he said he wanted to write it all down to keep. and mr. 'possum said he never would forget how good those chickens tasted that first night in the new home, and that mr. rabbit mustn't forget to put them in. then they all remembered that they were hungry now, and mr. crow and mr. squirrel and mr. robin hustled around to get a bite to eat before bedtime, and mr. 'possum hurried down to bring up the stove-wood, and was gone quite awhile, though nobody spoke of it--not then--even if they did wonder about it a little--and after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked and dropped off to sleep while the clock ticked and the blaze flickered about and made queer shadows on the wall of the hollow tree. footnotes: [ ] _hollow tree and deep woods book_. the bark of old hungry-wolf the bark of old hungry-wolf how the hollow tree people have a most unwelcome visitor, and what becomes of him "what made mr. 'possum so anxious to get the wood, and what made him stay down-stairs so long when he went after it?" asks the little lady next evening, when the story teller is lighting his pipe and getting ready to remember the history of the hollow tree. "we're coming to that. you may be sure there was some reason for it, for mr. 'possum doesn't hurry after wood or stay long in a cold place if he can help it, unless he has something on his mind. perhaps some of the deep woods people thought of that too, but if they did they didn't say anything--not at the time. i suppose they thought it didn't matter much, anyhow, if they got the wood." so they went right on having a good time, keeping up a nice fire, and eating up whatever they had; for they thought the big snow couldn't last as long as their wood and their things to eat, and every day they went up to look out of the up-stairs windows to see how much had melted, and every day they found it just about the same, only maybe a little crustier on top, and the weather stayed _very cold_. but they didn't mind it so long as they were warm and not hungry, and they played games, and recited their pieces, and sang, and danced, and said they had never had such a good time in all their lives. [illustration: one day mr. crow found he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything] but one day when mr. crow went down into the store-room for supplies he found that he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything they had, and he came up looking pretty sober, though he didn't say anything about it--not then, for he knew there were plenty of bones and odds and ends he could scrape up, and he had a little flour and some meal in his pantry; so he could make soup and gravy and johnny-cake and hash, which he did right away, and they all said how fine such things were for a change, and told mr. crow to go right on making them as long as he wanted to, even if the snow stayed on till spring. and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon said it was like old times, and that mr. crow was probably the very best provider in the big deep woods. mr. crow smiled, too, but he didn't feel like it much, for he knew that even johnny-cake and gravy wouldn't last forever, and that unless the snow went away pretty soon they would all be hungry and cold, for the wood was getting low, too. and one morning, when mr. crow went to his meal-sack and his flour-bag and his pile of odds and ends there was just barely enough for breakfast, and hardly that. and mr. crow didn't like to tell them about it, for he knew they all thought he could keep right on making johnny-cake and gravy forever, because they didn't have to stop to think where things came from, as he did, and he was afraid they would blame him when there was nothing more left. so the old black crow tried to step around lively and look pleasant, to keep anybody from noticing, because he thought it might turn warm that day and melt the snow; and when breakfast was ready he put on what there was and said he hadn't cooked very much because he had heard that light breakfasts were better for people who stayed in the house a good deal, and as for himself, he said he guessed he wouldn't eat any breakfast that morning at all. then while the others were eating he crept down-stairs and looked at the empty boxes and barrels and the few sticks of wood that were left, and he knew that if that snow didn't melt off right away they were going to have a _very hard time_. then he came back up in the big living-room and went on up-stairs to his own room, to look out the window to see if it wasn't going to be a warm, melting day. but mr. crow came back pretty soon. he came back in a hurry, too, and he slammed his door and locked it, and then let go of everything and just slid down-stairs. then the deep woods people jumped up quick from the table and ran to him, for they thought he was having a fit of some kind, and they still thought so when they looked into his face: for mr. crow's eyes were rolled up and his bill was pale, and when he tried to speak he couldn't. and mr. rabbit said it was because mr. crow had done without his breakfast, and he ran to get something from the table; but mr. crow couldn't eat, and then they saw that some of the feathers on top of his head were turning gray, and they knew he had seen some awful thing just that little moment he was in his room. so then they all looked at one another and wondered what it was, and they were glad mr. crow had locked the door. then they carried him over to the fire, and pretty soon he got so he could whisper a little, and when they knew what he was saying they understood why he was so scared and why he had locked the door; for the words that mr. crow kept whispering over and over were: "old hungry-wolf! old hungry-wolf! old hungry-wolf!" all the deep woods people know what that means. they know that when old hungry-wolf comes, or even when you hear him bark, it means that there is no food left in the big deep woods for anybody, and that nobody can tell how long it will be before there _will_ be food again. and all the deep woods people stood still and held their breath and listened for the bark of old hungry-wolf, because they knew mr. crow had seen his face looking in the window. and they all thought they heard it, except mr. 'possum, who said he didn't believe it was old hungry-wolf at all that mr. crow had seen, but only mr. gray wolf himself, who had perhaps slipped out and travelled over the snow to see if they were all at home and comfortable. but mr. crow said: "no, no; it was old hungry-wolf! he was big and black, and i saw his great fiery eyes!" then mr. 'possum looked very brave, and said he would see if old hungry-wolf was looking into his window too, and he went right up, and soon came back and said there wasn't any big black face at his window, and he thought that mr. crow's empty stomach had made him imagine things. so then mr. 'coon said that he would go up to _his_ room if the others would like to come along, and they could see for themselves whether old hungry-wolf was trying to get in or not. [illustration: then mr. 'coon slammed his door] then they all went very quietly up mr. 'coon's stair (all except mr. 'possum, who stayed with mr. crow), and they opened mr. 'coon's door and took one look inside, and then mr. 'coon he slammed _his_ door shut, and locked it, and they all let go of everything and came sliding down in a heap, for they had seen the great fiery eyes and black face of old hungry-wolf glaring in at mr. 'coon's window. so they all huddled around the fire and lit their pipes--for they still had some tobacco--and smoked, but didn't say anything, until by-and-by mr. crow told them that there wasn't another bite to eat in the house and very little wood, and that that was the reason why old hungry-wolf had come. and they talked about it in whispers--whether they ought to exercise any more, because though exercise would help them to keep warm and save wood, it would make them hungrier. and some of them said they thought they would try to go to sleep like mr. bear, who slept all winter and never knew that he was hungry until spring. so they kept talking, and now and then they would stop and listen, and they all said they could hear the bark of old hungry-wolf--all except mr. 'possum, which was strange, because mr. 'possum is fond of good things and would be apt to be the very first to hear old hungry's bark. [illustration: mr. 'possum said not to move, that he would go after a piece of wood] and when the fire got very low and it was getting cold, mr. 'possum said for them not to move; that he would go down after a piece of wood, and he would attend to the fire as long as the wood lasted, and try to make it last as long as possible. and every time the fire got very low mr. 'possum would bring a piece of wood, and sometimes he stayed a good while (just for one piece of wood), but they still didn't think much about it--not then. what they did think about was how hungry they were, and mr. crow said he knew he could eat as much as the old ancestor of his that was told about in a book which he had once borrowed from mr. man's little boy who had left it out in the yard at dinner-time. then they all begged mr. crow to get the book and read it to them, and perhaps they could imagine they were not so hungry. so mr. crow brought the book and read them the poem about the ravenous raven [illustration: he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair] oh, there was an old raven as black as could be, and a wonderful sort of a raven was he; for his house he kept tidy, his yard he kept neat, and he cooked the most marvellous dainties to eat. he could roast, he could toast, he could bake, he could fry, he could stir up a cake in the wink of an eye, he could boil, he could broil, he could grill, he could stew oh, there wasn't a thing that this bird couldn't do. he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair, and his plans for new puddings and pies would prepare; but, alas! like the famous jim crow with his shelf, he was greedy, and ate all his dainties himself. [illustration: with a look and a sigh they would stand and behold] it was true he was proud of the things he could cook, and would call in his neighbors sometimes for a look, or a taste, it may be, when his pastry was fine; but he'd never been known to invite them to dine. with a look and a sigh they could stand and behold all the puddings so brown and the sauces of gold; with a taste and a growl they'd reluctantly go praying vengeance to fall on that greedy old crow. [illustration: the tastiest pastry that ever was known] now, one morning near christmas when holly grows green, and the best of good things in the markets are seen, he went out for a smoke in the crisp morning air, and to think of some holiday dish to prepare. mr. rabbit had spices to sell at his store, mr. reynard had tender young chicks by the score, and the old raven thought, as he stood there alone, of the tastiest pastry that ever was known. then away to the market he hurried full soon, dropping in for a chat with the 'possum and 'coon just to tell them his plans, which they heard with delight, and to ask them to call for a moment that night for a look and a taste of his pastry so fine, and he hinted he might even ask them to dine. then he hurried away, and the rest of the day messrs. 'possum and 'coon were expectant and gay. [illustration: then to stir and to bake he began right away] oh, he hurried away and to market he went, and his money for spices and poultry he spent, while behind in the market were many, he knew, who would talk of the marvellous things he would do; so with joy in his heart and with twinkling eye he returned to his home his new project to try, then to stir and to bake he began right away, and his dish was complete at the end of the day. aye, the marvel was done--'twas a rich golden hue, and its smell was delicious--the old raven knew that he never had made such a pastry before, and a look of deep trouble his countenance wore; "for," thought he, "i am certain the' possum and 'coon that i talked with to-day will be coming here soon, and expect me to ask them to dine, when, you see, there is just a good feast in this dainty for me." now, behold, he'd scarce uttered his thoughts when he heard at the casement a tapping--this greedy old bird-- and the latch was uplifted, and gayly strode in both the 'coon and the 'possum with faces agrin. they were barbered and brushed and arrayed in their best, in the holiday fashion their figures were dressed, while a look in each face, to the raven at least, said, "we've come here to-night, sir, prepared for a feast." and the raven he smiled as he said, "howdy-do?" for he'd thought of a plan to get rid of the two; and quoth he, "my dear friends, i am sorry to say that the wonderful pastry i mentioned to-day when it came to be baked was a failure complete, disappointing to taste and disturbing to eat. i am sorry, dear friends, for i thought 'twould be fine; i am sorry i cannot invite you to dine." and the 'coon and the 'possum were both sorry, too, and suspicious, somewhat, for the raven they knew. they declared 'twas too bad all that pudding to waste, and they begged him to give them at least just a taste, but he firmly refused and at last they departed, while the greedy old crow for the dining-room started, and the pie so delicious he piled on his plate, and he ate, and he ate, and he ate, and he ate! [illustration: the greedy old raven, but greedy no more] well, next morn when the 'possum and 'coon passed along they could see at the raven's that something was wrong, for no blue curling smoke from the chimney-top came; so they opened his door and they called out his name, and they entered inside, and behold! on the floor was the greedy old raven, but greedy no more: for his heart it was still--not a flutter was there-- and his toes were turned up and the table was bare; now his epitaph tells to the whole country-side how he ate, and he ate, and he ate till he died. when mr. crow finished, mr. rabbit said it was certainly an interesting poem, and if he just had a chance now to eat till he died he'd take it, and mr. 'coon said he'd give anything to know how that pie had tasted, and he didn't see how any _one_ pie could be big enough to kill anybody that felt as hungry as _he_ did now. and mr. 'possum didn't say much of anything, but only seemed drowsy and peaceful-like, which was curious for _him_ as things were. well, all that day, and the next day, and the next, there wasn't anything to eat, and they sat as close as they could around the little fire and wished they'd saved some of the big logs and some of the food, too, that they had used up so fast when they thought the big snow would go away. and the bark of old hungry-wolf got louder and louder, and he began to gnaw, too, and they all heard it, day and night--all except mr. 'possum, who said he didn't know why, but that for some reason he couldn't hear a sound like that at all, which was _very_ strange, indeed. but there was something else about mr. 'possum that was strange. he didn't get any thinner. all the others began to show the change right away, but mr. 'possum still looked the same, and still kept cheerful, and stepped around as lively as ever, and that was _very strange_. by-and-by, when mr. 'possum had gone down-stairs for some barrel staves to burn, for the wood was all gone, mr. rabbit spoke of it, and said he couldn't understand it; and then mr. 'coon, who had been thinking about it too, said he wondered why it sometimes took mr. 'possum so long to get a little bit of wood. then they all remembered how mr. possum had stayed so long down-stairs whenever he went, even before old hungry-wolf came to the hollow tree, and they couldn't understand it _at all_. and just then mr. 'possum came up with two little barrel staves which he had been a long time getting, and they all turned and looked at him very closely, which was a thing they had never done until that time. and before mr. 'possum noticed it, they saw him chew--a kind of last, finishing chew--and then give a little swallow--a sort of last, finishing swallow--and just then he noticed them watching him, and he stopped right in his tracks and dropped the two little barrel staves and looked very scared and guilty, which was strange, when he had always been so willing about the wood. [illustration: looked straight at mr. 'possum and said, "what was that you were chewing just now?"] then they all got up out of their chairs and looked straight at mr. 'possum, and said: "what was that you were chewing just now?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "what was that you were swallowing just now?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why do you always stay so long when you go for wood?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why is it that you don't get thin, like the rest of us?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why is it you never hear the bark of old hungry-wolf?" and mr. 'possum said, very weakly: "i did think i heard it a little while ago." then they all said: "and was that why you went down after wood?" and once more mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "what have you got _down there_ to eat? and _where_ do you keep it?" then mr. 'possum seemed to think of something, and picked up the two little barrel staves and brought them over to the fire and put them on, and looked very friendly, and sat down and lit his pipe and smoked a minute, and said that climbing the stairs had overcome him a little, and that he wasn't feeling very well, but if they'd let him breathe a minute he'd tell them all about it, and how he had been preparing a nice surprise for them, for just such a time as this; but when he saw they had found out something, it all came on him so sudden that, what with climbing the stairs and all, he couldn't quite gather himself, but that he was all right now, and the surprise was ready. "of course you know," mr. 'possum said, "that i have travelled a good deal, and have seen a good many kinds of things happen, and know about what to expect. and when i saw how fast we were using up the food, and how deep the snow was, i knew we might expect a famine that even mr. crow's johnny-cake and gravy wouldn't last through; and mr. crow mentioned something of the kind once himself, though he seemed to forget it right away again, for he went on giving us just as much as ever. but i didn't forget about it, and right away i began laying aside in a quiet place some of the things that would keep pretty well, and that we would be glad to have when old hungry-wolf should really come along and we had learned to live on lighter meals and could make things last." mr. 'possum was going right on, but mr. 'coon interrupted him, and said that mr. 'possum could call it living on lighter meals if he wanted to but that he hadn't eaten any meal at all for three days, and that if mr. 'possum had put away anything for a hungry time he wished he'd get it out right now, without any more explaining, for it was food that he wanted and not explanations, and all the others said so too. then mr. 'possum said he was just coming to that, but he only wished to say a few words about it because they had seemed to think that he was doing something that he shouldn't, when he was really trying to save them from old hungry-wolf, and he said he had kept his surprise as long as he could, so it would last longer, and that he had been pretending not to hear old hungry's bark just to keep their spirits up, and he supposed one of the reasons why he hadn't got any thinner was because he hadn't been so worried, and had kept happy in the nice surprise he had all the time, just saving it for when they would begin to need it most. as to what he had been chewing and swallowing when he came up-stairs, mr. 'possum said that he had been taking just the least little taste of some of the things to see if they were keeping well--some nice cooked chickens, for instance, from a lot that mr. crow had on hand and didn't remember about, and a young turkey or two, and a few ducks, and a bushel or so of apples, and a half a barrel of doughnuts, and-- but mr. 'possum didn't get any further, for all the deep woods people made a wild scramble for the stairs, with mr. 'possum after them, and when they got down in the store-room he took them behind one of the big roots of the hollow tree, and there was a passageway that none of them had ever suspected, and mr. 'possum lit a candle and led them through it and out into a sort of cave, and there, sure enough, were all the things he had told them about and some mince-pies besides. and there was even some wood, for mr. 'possum had worked hard to lay away a supply of things for a long snowed-in time. then all the hollow tree people sat right down there and had some of the things, and by-and-by they carried some more up-stairs, and some wood, too, and built up a fine big fire, and lit their pipes and smoked, and forgot everything unpleasant in the world. and they all said how smart and good mr. 'possum was to save all that food for the very time when they would need it most, when all the rest of them had been just eating it up as fast as possible and would have been now without a thing in the world except for mr. 'possum. then mr. 'possum asked them if they could hear old hungry-wolf any more, and they listened but they couldn't hear a sound, and then they went up into mr. crow's room, and into mr. coon's room, and into mr. 'possum's room, and they couldn't see a thing of him anywhere, though it was just the time of day to see him, for it was late in the evening--the time old hungry-wolf is most likely to look in the window. and that night it turned warm, and the big snow began to thaw; and it thawed, and it thawed, and all the brooks and rivers came up, and even the wide blue water rose so that the deep woods company had to stay a little longer in the hollow tree, even when all the snow was nearly gone. mr. rabbit was pretty anxious to get home, and started out one afternoon with mr. turtle along, because mr. turtle is a good swimmer. but there was too much water to cross and they came back again just at sunset, and mr. crow let them in,[ ] so they had to wait several days longer. but mr. 'possum's food lasted, and by the time it was gone they could get plenty more; and when they all went away and left the three hollow tree people together again, they were very happy because they had had such a good time; and the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow were as good friends as ever, though the gray feathers on the top of mr. crow's head never did turn quite black again, and some of the deep woods people call him silver-top to this day. the little lady looks anxiously at the story teller. "did old hungry-wolf ever get inside of the hollow tree?" she asks. "no, he never did get inside; they only saw him through the window, and heard him bark." "and why couldn't mr. 'possum ever hear him sometimes?" "well, you see, old hungry isn't a real wolf, but only a shadow wolf--the shadow of famine. he only looks in when people dread famine, and he only barks and gnaws when they feel it. a famine, you know, is when one is very hungry and there is nothing to eat. i don't think mr. 'possum was very hungry, and he had all those nice things laid away, so he would not care much about that old shadow wolf, which is only another name for hunger." the little lady clings very close to the story teller. "will we ever see old hungry-wolf and hear his bark?" the story teller sits up quite straight, and gathers the little lady tight. "good gracious, no!" he says. "he moved out of our part of the country before you were born, and we'll take good care that he doesn't come back any more." "i'm glad," says the little lady. "you can sing now--you know--the 'hollow tree song.'" footnotes: [ ] see picture on cover. an early spring call on mr. bear an early spring call on on mr. bear mr. 'possum's curious dream and what came of it "what did they do then?" asks the little lady. "what did the deep woods people all do after they got through being snowed in?" "well, let's see. it got to be spring then pretty soon--early spring--of course, and mr. jack rabbit went to writing poetry and making garden; mr. robin went to meet mrs. robin, who had been spending the winter down south; mr. squirrel, who is quite young, went to call on a very nice young miss squirrel over toward the big west hills; mr. dog had to help mr. man a good deal with the spring work; mr. turtle got out all his fishing-things and looked them over, and the hollow tree people had a general straightening up after company. they had a big house-cleaning, of course, with most of their things out on the line, and mr. 'possum said that he'd just about as soon be snowed-in for good as to have to beat carpets and carry furniture up and down stairs all the rest of his life." but they got through at last, and everything was nice when they were settled, only there wasn't a great deal to be had to eat, because it had been such a long, cold winter that things were pretty scarce and hard to get. one morning mr. 'possum said he had had a dream the night before, and he wished it would come true. he said he had dreamed that they were all invited by mr. bear to help him eat the spring breakfast which he takes after his long winter nap, and that mr. bear had about the best breakfast he ever sat down to. he said he had eaten it clear through, from turkey to mince-pie, only he didn't get the mince-pie because mr. bear had asked him if he'd have it hot or cold, and just as he made up his mind to have some of both he woke up and didn't get either. then mr. 'coon said he wished he could have a dream like that; that he'd take whatever came along and try to sleep through it, and mr. crow thought a little while and said that sometimes dreams came true, especially if you helped them a little. he said he hadn't heard anything of mr. bear this spring, and it was quite likely he had been taking a longer nap than usual. it might be a good plan, he thought, to drop over that way and just look in in passing, because if mr. bear should be sitting down to breakfast he would be pretty apt to ask them to sit up and have a bite while they told him the winter news. then mr. 'possum said that he didn't believe anybody in the world but mr. crow would have thought of that, and that hereafter he was going to tell him every dream he had. they ought to start right away, he said, because if they should get there just as mr. bear was clearing off the table it would be a good deal worse than not getting the mince-pie in his dream. so they hurried up and put on their best clothes and started for mr. bear's place, which is over toward the edge of the world, only farther down, in a fine big cave which is fixed up as nice as a house and nicer. but when they got pretty close to it they didn't go so fast and straight, but just sauntered along as if they were only out for a little walk and happened to go in that direction, for they thought mr. bear might be awake and standing in his door. they met mr. rabbit about that time and invited him to go along, but mr. rabbit said his friendship with mr. bear was a rather distant one, and that he mostly talked to him from across the river or from a hill that had a good clear running space on the other slope. he said mr. bear's taste was good, for he was fond of his family, but that the fondness had been all on mr. bear's side. [illustration: they went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was] so the hollow tree people went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was, and saying it quite loud, and looking every which way, because mr. bear might be out for a walk too. but they didn't see him anywhere, and by-and-by they got right to the door of his cave and knocked a little, and nobody came. then they listened, but couldn't hear anything at first, until mr. 'coon, who has very sharp ears, said that he was sure he heard mr. bear breathing and that he must be still asleep. then the others thought they heard it, too, and pretty soon they were sure they heard it, and mr. 'possum said it was too bad to let mr. bear oversleep himself this fine weather, and that they ought to go in and let him know how late it was. [illustration: sleep right where he was] so then they pushed open the door and went tiptoeing in to where mr. bear was. they thought, of course, he would be in bed, but he wasn't. he was sitting up in a big arm-chair in his dressing-gown, with his feet up on a low stool, before a fire that had gone out some time in december, with a little table by him that had a candle on it which had burned down about the time the fire went out. his pipe had gone out too, and they knew that mr. bear had been smoking, and must have been very tired and gone to sleep right where he was, and hadn't moved all winter long. it wasn't very cheerful in there, so mr. 'possum said maybe they'd better stir up a little fire to take the chill off before they woke mr. bear, and mr. 'coon found a fresh candle and lighted it, and mr. crow put the room to rights a little, and wound up the clock, and set it, and started it going. then when the fire got nice and bright they stood around and looked at mr. bear, and each one said it was a good time now to wake him up, but nobody just wanted to do it, because mr. bear isn't always good-natured, and nobody could tell what might happen if he should wake up cross and hungry, and he'd be likely to do that if his nap was broken too suddenly. mr. possum said that mr. crow was the one to do it, as he had first thought of this trip, and mr. crow said that it was mr. 'possum's place, because it had been in his dream. then they both said that as mr. 'coon hadn't done anything at all so far, he might do that. mr. 'coon said that he'd do it quick enough, only he'd been listening to the way mr. bear breathed, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be ready to wake up for a week yet, and it would be too bad to wake him now when he might not have been resting well during the first month or so of his nap and was making it up now. he said they could look around a little and see if mr. bear's things were keeping well, and perhaps brush up his pantry so it would be nice and clean when he did wake. then mr. crow said he'd always wanted to see mr. bear's pantry, for he'd heard it was such a good place to keep things, and perhaps he could get some ideas for the hollow tree; and mr. 'possum said that mr. bear had the name of having a bigger pantry and more things in it than all the rest of the deep woods people put together. so they left mr. bear all nice and comfortable, sleeping there by the fire, and lit another candle and went over to his pantry, which was at the other side of the room, and opened the door and looked in. well, they couldn't say a word at first, but only just looked at one another and at all the things they saw in that pantry. first, on the top shelf there was a row of pies, clear around. then on the next shelf there was a row of cakes--first a fruit-cake, then a jelly-cake, then another fruit-cake and then another jelly-cake, and the cakes went all the way around, too, and some of them had frosting on them, and you could see the raisins in the fruit-cake and pieces of citron. then on the next shelf there was a row of nice cooked partridges, all the way around, close together. and on the shelf below was a row of meat-pies made of chicken and turkey and young lamb, and on the shelf below that there was a row of nice canned berries, and on the floor, all the way around, there were jars of honey--nice comb honey that mr. bear had gathered in november from bee-trees. mr. crow spoke first. "well, i never," he said, "never in all my life, saw anything like it!" and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum both said: "he can't do it--a breakfast like that is too much for _any_ bear!" then mr. crow said: "he oughtn't to be _allowed_ to do it. mr. bear is too nice a man to lose." and mr. 'possum said: "he _mustn't_ be allowed to do it--we'll help him." "where do you suppose he begins? said mr. 'coon. "at the top, very likely," said mr. crow. "he's got it arranged in courses." "i don't care where he begins," said mr. 'possum; "i'm going to begin somewhere, now, and i think i will begin on a meat-pie." and mr. crow said he thought he'd begin on a nice partridge, and mr. 'coon said he believed he'd try a mince-pie or two first, as a kind of a lining, and then fill in with the solid things afterward. so then mr. 'possum took down his meat-pie, and said he hoped this wasn't a dream, and mr. crow took down a nice brown partridge, and mr. 'coon stood up on a chair and slipped a mince-pie out of a pan on the top shelf, and everything would have been all right, only he lost his balance a little and let the pie fall. it made quite a smack when it struck the floor, and mr. 'possum jumped and let his pie fall, too, and that made a good deal more of a noise, because it was large and in a tin pan. then mr. crow blew out the light quick, and they all stood perfectly still and listened, for it seemed to them a noise like that would wake the dead, much more mr. bear, and they thought he would be right up and in there after them. but mr. bear was too sound asleep for that. they heard him give a little cough and a kind of a grunt mixed with a sleepy word or two, and when they peeked out through the door, which was open just a little ways, they saw him moving about in his chair, trying first one side and then the other, as if he wanted to settle down and go to sleep again, which he didn't do, but kept right on grunting and sniffing and mumbling and trying new positions. then, of course, the hollow tree people were scared, for they knew pretty well he was going to wake up. there wasn't any way to get out of mr. bear's pantry except by the door, and you had to go right by mr. bear's chair to get out of the cave. so they just stood there, holding their breath and trembling, and mr. 'possum wished now it _was_ a dream, and that he could wake up right away before the nightmare began. well, mr. bear he turned this way and that way, and once or twice seemed about to settle down and sleep again; but just as they thought he really had done it, he sat up pretty straight and looked all around. then the hollow tree people thought their time had come, and they wanted to make a jump, and run for the door, only they were afraid to try it. mr. bear yawned a long yawn, and stretched himself, and rubbed his eyes open, and looked over at the fire and down at the candle on the table and up at the clock on the mantel. the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow thought, of course, he'd know somebody had been there by all those things being set going, and they expected him to roar out something terrible and start for the pantry first thing. but mr. bear didn't seem to understand it at all, or to suppose that anything was wrong, and from what he mumbled to himself they saw right away that he thought he'd been asleep only a little while instead of all winter. "humph!" they heard him growl, "i must have gone to sleep, and was dreaming it's time to wake up. i didn't sleep long, though, by the way the fire and the candle look, besides it's only a quarter of ten, and i remember winding the clock at half after eight. funny i feel so hungry, after eating a big supper only two hours ago. must be the reason i dreamed it was spring. humph! guess i'll just eat a piece of pie and go to bed." so mr. bear got up and held on to his chair to steady himself, and yawned some more and rubbed his eyes, for he was only about half awake yet, and pretty soon he picked up his candle and started for the pantry. then the hollow tree people felt as if they were going to die. they didn't dare to breathe or make the least bit of noise, and just huddled back in a corner close to the wall, and mr. 'possum all at once felt as if he must sneeze right away, and mr. 'coon would have given anything to be able to scratch his back, and mr. crow thought if he could only cough once more and clear his throat he wouldn't care whether he had anything to eat, ever again. and mr. bear he came shuffling along toward the pantry with his candle all tipped to one side, still rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up, and everything was just as still as still--all except a little scratchy sound his claws made dragging along the floor, though that wasn't a nice sound for the hollow tree people to hear. and when he came to the pantry door mr. bear pushed it open quite wide and was coming straight in, only just then he caught his toe a little on the door-sill and _stumbled_ in, and that was too much for mr. 'possum, who turned loose a sneeze that shook the world. then mr. crow and mr. 'coon made a dive under mr. bear's legs, and mr. 'possum did too, and down came mr. bear and down came his candle, and the candle went out, but not any quicker than the hollow tree people, who broke for the cave door and slammed it behind them, and struck out for the bushes as if they thought they'd never live to get there. but when they got into some thick hazel brush they stopped a minute to breathe, and then they all heard mr. bear calling "help! help!" as loud as he could, and when they listened they heard him mention something about an earthquake and that the world was coming to an end. [illustration: mr. coon scratched his back against a little bush] then mr. 'possum said that from the sound of mr. bear's voice he seemed to be unhappy about something, and that it was too bad for them to just pass right by without asking what was the trouble, especially if mr. bear, who had always been so friendly, should ever hear of it. so then they straightened their collars and ties and knocked the dust off a little, and mr. 'coon scratched his back against a little bush and mr. crow cleared his throat, and they stepped out of the hazel patch and went up to mr. bear's door and pushed it open a little and called out: "oh, mr. bear, do you need any help?" "oh yes," groaned mr. bear, "come quick! i've been struck by an earthquake and nearly killed, and everything i've got must be ruined. bring a light and look at my pantry! "so then mr. 'coon ran with a splinter from mr. bear's fire and lit the candle, and mr. bear got up, rubbing himself and taking on, and began looking at his pantry shelves, which made him better right away. "oh," he said, "how lucky the damage is so small! only two pies and a partridge knocked down, and they are not much hurt. i thought everything was lost, and my nerves are all upset when i was getting ready for my winter sleep. how glad i am you happened to be passing. stay with me, and we will eat to quiet our nerves." then the hollow tree people said that the earthquake had made them nervous too, and that perhaps a little food would be good for all of them; so they flew around just as if they were at home, and brought mr. bear's table right into the pantry, and some chairs, and set out the very best things and told mr. bear to sit right up to the table and help himself, and then all the others sat up, too, and they ate everything clear through, from meat-pie in mince-pie, just as if mr. 'possum's dream had really come true. and mr. bear said he didn't understand how he could have such a good appetite when he had such a big supper only two hours ago, and he said that there must have been two earthquakes, because a noise of some kind had roused him from a little nap he had been taking in his chair, but that the real earthquake hadn't happened until he got to the pantry door, where he stumbled a little, which seemed to touch it off. he said he hoped he'd never live to go through with a thing like that again. then the hollow tree people said they had heard both of the shocks, and that the last one was a good deal the worst, and that of course such a thing would sound a good deal louder in a cave anyway. and by-and-by, when they were all through eating, they went in by the fire and sat down and smoked, and mr. bear said he didn't feel as sleepy as he thought he should because he was still upset a good deal by the shock, but that he guessed he would just crawl into bed while they were there, as it seemed nice to have company. so he did, and by-and-by he dropped off to sleep again, and the hollow tree people borrowed a few things, and went out softly and shut the door behind them. they stopped at mr. rabbit's house on the way home, and told him they had enjoyed a nice breakfast with mr. bear, and how mr. bear had sent a partridge and a pie and a little pot of honey to mr. rabbit because of his fondness for the family. then mr. rabbit felt quite pleased, because it was too early for spring vegetables and hard to get good things for the table. "and did mr. bear sleep all summer?" asks the little lady. "no, he woke up again pretty soon, for he had finished his nap, and of course the next time when he looked around he found his fire out and the candle burned down and the clock stopped, so he got up and went outside, and saw it was spring and that he had slept a good deal longer than usual. but when he went to eat his spring breakfast he couldn't understand why he wasn't very hungry, and thought it must be because he'd eaten two such big suppers. "but why didn't the hollow tree people tell him it was spring and not let him go to bed again?" well, i s'pose they thought it wouldn't be very polite to tell mr. bear how he'd been fooled, and, besides, he needed a nice nap again after the earthquake--anyhow, he thought it was an earthquake, and was a good deal upset. [illustration: mr. rabbit thanked him from across the river] and it was a long time before he found out what _had really_ happened, and he never would have known, if mr. rabbit hadn't seen him fishing one day and thanked him from across the river for the nice breakfast he had sent him by the hollow tree people. that set mr. bear to thinking, and he asked mr. rabbit a few questions about things in general and earthquakes in particular, and the more he found out and thought about it the more he began to guess just how it was, and by-and-by when he did find out all about it, he didn't care any more, and really thought it quite a good joke on himself for falling asleep in his chair and sleeping there all winter long. mr. crow's garden mr. crow's garden the hollow tree people learn how to raise fine vegetables one morning, right after breakfast in the hollow tree, mr. crow said he'd been thinking of something ever since he woke up, and if the 'coon and the 'possum thought it was a good plan he believed he'd do it. he said of course they knew how good mr. rabbit's garden always was, and how he nearly lived out of it during the summer, mr. rabbit being a good deal of a vegetarian; by which he meant that he liked vegetables better than anything, while the hollow tree people, mr. crow said, were a little different in their tastes, though he didn't know just what the name for them was. he said he thought they might be humanitarians, because they liked the things that mr. man and other human beings liked, but that he wasn't sure whether that was the right name or not. then mr. 'possum said for him to never mind about the word, but to go on and talk about his plan if it had anything to do with something to eat, for he was getting pretty tired of living on little picked-up things such as they had been having this hard spring, and mr. 'coon said so too. so then mr. crow said: "well, i've been planning to have a garden this spring like mr. rabbit's." "humph!" said mr. 'possum, "i thought you were going to start a chicken farm." but mr. crow said "no," that the big deep woods didn't seem a healthy place for chickens, and that they could pick up a chicken here and there by-and-by, and then if they had nice green pease to go with it, or some green corn, or even a tender salad, it would help out, especially when they had company like mr. robin, or mr. squirrel, or mr. rabbit, who cared for such things. so then the 'coon and the 'possum both said that to have green pease and corn was a very good idea, especially when such things were mixed with young chickens with plenty of dressing and gravy, and that as this was a pleasant morning they might walk over and call on jack rabbit so that the old black crow could find out about planting things. mr. 'possum said that his uncle silas lovejoy always had a garden, and he had worked it a good deal when he was young, but that he had forgotten just how things should be planted, though he knew the moon had something to do with it, and if you didn't get the time right the things that ought to grow up would grow down and the down things would all grow up, so that you'd have to dig your pease and pick your potatoes when the other way was the fashion and thought to be better in this climate. so then the hollow tree people put on their things and went out into the nice april sunshine and walked over to jack rabbit's house, saying how pleasant it was to take a little walk this way when everything was getting green, and they passed by where mr. and mrs. robin were building a new nest, and they looked in on a cozy little hollow tree where mr. squirrel, who had just brought home a young wife from over by the big west hills, had set up housekeeping with everything new except the old-fashioned feather-bed and home-made spread which miss squirrel had been given by her folks. they looked through mr. squirrel's house and said how snug it was, and that perhaps it would be better not to try to furnish it too much at once, as it was nice just to get things as one was able, instead of doing everything at the start. when they got to mr. rabbit's house he was weaving a rag carpet for his front room, and they all stood behind him and watched him weave, and by-and-by mr. 'coon wanted to try it, but he didn't know how to run the treadle exactly, and got some of the strands too loose and some too tight, so he gave it up, and they all went out to look at mr. rabbit's garden. well, mr. rabbit did have a nice garden. it was all laid out in rows, and was straight and trim, and there wasn't a weed anywhere. he had things up, too--pease and lettuce and radishes--and he had some tomato-plants growing in a box in the house, because it was too early to put them out. mr. rabbit said that a good many people bought their plants, but that he always liked to raise his own from seed, because then he knew just what they were and what to expect. he told them how to plant the different things and about the moon, and said there was an old adage in his family that if you remembered it you'd always plant at the right time. the adage, he said, was: "pease and beans in the light of the moon-- both in the pot before it's june." and of course you only had to change "light" to "dark" and use it for turnips and potatoes and such things, though really it was sometimes later than june, but june was near enough, and rhymed with "moon" better than july and august. he said he would give mr. crow all the seeds he wanted, and that when he was ready to put out tomatoes he would let him have plenty of plants too. then mr. 'coon said it would be nice to have a few flower seeds, and they all looked at mr. 'coon because they knew he had once been in love, and they thought by his wanting flowers that he might be going to get that way again. but mr. rabbit said he was fond of flowers, too, especially the old-fashioned kind, and he picked out some for mr. 'coon; and then he went to weaving again, and the hollow tree people watched him awhile, and he pointed out pieces of different clothes he had had that he was weaving into his carpet, and they all thought how nice it was to use up one's old things that way. then by-and-by the hollow tree people went back home, and they began their garden right away. it was just the kind of a day to make garden and they all felt like it, so they spaded and hoed and raked, and didn't find it very easy because the place had never been used for a garden before, and there were some roots and stones; and pretty soon mr. 'possum said that mr. crow and mr. 'coon might go on with the digging and he would plant the seeds, as he had been used to such work when he lived with his uncle silas as a boy. [illustration: one said it was one way and the other the other way] so then he took the seeds, but he couldn't remember mr. rabbit's adages which told whether beets and carrots and such things as grow below the ground had to be planted in the dark of the moon or the light of the moon, and it was the same about beans and pease and the things that grow above the ground; and when he spoke to mr. crow and mr. 'coon about it, one said it was one way and the other the other way, and then mr. 'possum said he wasn't planting the things in the moon anyhow, and he thought mr. rabbit had made the adages to suit the day he was going to plant and that they would work either way. so then mr. 'possum planted everything there was, and showed mr. 'coon how to plant his flower seeds; and when they were all done they stood off and admired their nice garden, and said it was just about as nice as jack rabbit's, and maybe nicer in some ways, because it had trees around it and was a pleasant place to work. well, after that they got up every morning and went out to look at their garden, to see if any of the things were coming up; and pretty soon they found a good _many_ things coming up, but they were not in hills and rows, and mr. 'possum said they were weeds, because he remembered that uncle silas's weeds had always looked like those, and how he and his little cousins had had to hoe them. so then they got their hoes and hoed every morning, and by-and-by they had to hoe some during the day too, to keep up with the weeds, and the sun was pretty hot, and mr. 'possum did most of his hoeing over by the trees where it wasn't so sunny, and said that hereafter he thought it would be a good plan to plant all their garden in the shade. and every day they kept looking for the seeds to come up, and by-and-by a few did come up, and then they were quite proud, and went over and told jack rabbit about it, and mr. rabbit came over to give them some advice, and said he thought their garden looked pretty well for being its first year and put in late, though it looked to him, he said, as if some of it had been planted the wrong time of the moon, and he didn't think so much shade was very good for most things. but mr. 'possum said he'd rather have more shade and less things, and he thought next year he'd let his part of the garden out on shares. well, it got hotter and hotter, and the weeds grew more and more, and the hollow tree people had to work and hoe and pull nearly all day in the sun to keep up with them, and they would have given it up pretty soon, only they wanted to show jack rabbit that they could have a garden too, and by-and-by, when their things got big enough to eat, they were so proud that they invited mr. rabbit to come over for dinner, and they sent word to mr. turtle, too, because he likes good things and lives alone, not being a family man like mr. robin and mr. squirrel. now of course the hollow tree people knew that they had no such fine things in their garden as jack rabbit had in his, and they said they couldn't expect to, but they'd try to have other things to make up; and mr. crow was cooking for two whole days getting his chicken-pies and his puddings and such things ready for that dinner. and then when the morning came for it he was out long before sun-up to pick the things in the garden while they were nice and fresh, with the dew on them. but when mr. crow looked over his garden he felt pretty bad, for, after all, the new potatoes were little and tough, and the pease were small and dry, and the beans were thin and stringy, and the salad was pretty puny and tasteless, and the corn was just nubbins, because it didn't grow in a very good place and maybe hadn't been planted or tended very well. so mr. crow walked up and down the rows and thought a good deal, and finally decided that he'd just take a walk over toward jack rabbit's garden to see if mr. rabbit's things were really so much better after all. it was just about sunrise, and mr. crow knew jack rabbit didn't get up so soon, and he made up his mind he wouldn't wake him when he got there, but would just take a look over his nice garden and come away again. so when he got to mr. rabbit's back fence he climbed through a crack, and sat down in the weeds to rest a little and to look around, and he saw that mr. rabbit's house was just as still and closed up as could be, and no signs of jack rabbit anywhere. so then mr. crow stepped out into the corn patch and looked along at the rows of fine roasting ears, which made him feel sad because of those little nubbins in his own garden, and then he saw the fine fat pease and beans and salads in jack rabbit's garden, and it seemed to him that mr. rabbit could never in the world use up all those things himself. [illustration: mr. crow decided to thin out a few of jack rabbit's things] then mr. crow decided that he would thin out a few of jack rabbit's things, which seemed to be too thick anyway to do well. it would be too bad to disturb mr. rabbit to tell him about it, and mr. crow didn't have time to wait for him to get up if he was going to get his dinner ready on time. so mr. crow picked some large ears of corn and some of mr. rabbit's best pease and beans and salads, and filled his apron with all he could carry, and climbed through the back fence again, and took out for home without wasting any more time. and when he got there mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum were just getting up, and he didn't bother to tell them about borrowing from mr. rabbit's garden, but set out some breakfast, and as soon as it was over pitched in to get ready for company. mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum flew around, too, to make the room look nice, and by-and-by everything was ready, and the table was set, and the hollow tree people were all dressed up and looking out the window. then pretty soon they saw mr. turtle coming through the timber, and just then jack rabbit came in sight from the other direction. mr. turtle had brought a basket of mussels, which always are nice with a big dinner, like oysters, and mr. rabbit said he would have brought some things out of his garden, only he knew the hollow tree people had a garden, too, this year, and would want to show what they could do in that line themselves. he said he certainly must take a look at their garden because he had heard a good deal about it from mr. robin. then mr. crow felt a little chilly, for he happened to think that if mr. rabbit went out into their garden and then saw the fine things which were going to be on the table he'd wonder where they came from. so he said right away that dinner was all ready, and they'd better sit down while things were hot and fresh. then they all sat down, and first had the mussels which mr. turtle had brought, and there were some fine sliced tomatoes with them, and mr. rabbit said he hadn't supposed that such fine big tomatoes as those could come out of a new garden that had been planted late, and that he certainly must see the vines they came off of before he went home, because they were just as big as his tomatoes, if not bigger, and he wanted to see just how they could do so well. and mr. crow felt _real_ chilly, and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum both said they hadn't supposed their tomatoes were so big and ripe, though they hadn't looked at them since yesterday. but mr. rabbit said that a good many things could happen over night, and mr. crow changed the subject as quick as he could, and said that things always looked bigger and better on the table than they did in the garden, but that he'd picked all the real big, ripe tomatoes and he didn't think there'd be any more. then after the mussels they had the chicken-pie, and when mr. rabbit saw the vegetables that mr. crow served with it he looked at them and said: "my, what fine pease and beans, and what splendid corn! i am sure your vegetables are as good as anything in my garden, if not better. i certainly _must see_ just the spot where they grew. i would never have believed you could have done it, never, if i hadn't seen them right here on your table with my own eyes." then mr. turtle said they were the finest he ever tasted, and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon both said they wouldn't have believed it themselves yesterday, and it was wonderful how much everything had grown over night. then the old black crow choked a little and coughed, and said he didn't seem to relish his food, and pretty soon he said that of course their garden _had_ done _pretty_ well, but that it was about through now, as these were things he had been saving for this dinner, and he had gathered all the biggest and best of them this morning before mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon were up. when mr. crow said that, jack rabbit looked the other way and made a very queer face, and you might have thought he was trying to keep from laughing if you had seen him, but maybe he was only trying to keep from coughing, for pretty soon he did cough a little and said that the early morning was the proper time to gather vegetables; that one could always pick out the best things then, and do it quietly before folks were up. then mr. crow felt a cold, shaky chill that went all the way up and down, and he was afraid to look up, though of course he didn't believe mr. rabbit knew anything about what he had done, only he was afraid that he would look so guilty that everybody would see it. he said that his head was a little dizzy with being over the hot stove so much, and he hoped they wouldn't think of going out until the cool of the evening, as the sun would be too much for him, and of course he wanted to be with them. [illustration: bring on the salad] poor mr. crow was almost afraid to bring on the salad, but he was just as afraid not to. only he did wish he had picked out mr. rabbit's smallest bunches instead of his biggest ones, for he knew there were no such other salads anywhere as those very ones he had borrowed from mr. rabbit's garden. but he put it off as long as he could, and by-and-by jack rabbit said that there was one thing he was sure the hollow tree couldn't beat him on, and that was salad. he said he had never had such fine heads as he had this year, and that there were a few heads especially that he had been saving to show his friends. then the 'coon and 'possum said "no," their salads were not very much, unless they had grown a great deal over night, like the other things--and when mr. crow got up to bring them he walked wobbly, and everybody said it was too bad that mr. crow _would_ always go to so much trouble for company. well, when he came in with that bowl of salad and set it down, mr. turtle and jack rabbit said, "did you ever in your life!" but mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon just sat and looked at it, for they thought it couldn't be true. then pretty soon mr. rabbit said that he would take back everything he had told them about his salad, and that he was coming over to take some lessons from the hollow tree people, and especially from mr. crow, on how to raise vegetables. he said that there were a good many ways to raise vegetables--some raised them in a garden; some raised them in a hothouse; some raised them in the market; but that mr. crow's way was the best way there was, and he was coming over to learn it. he said they must finish their dinner before dark, for he certainly must _see_ just where _all_ mr. crow's wonderful things came from. then mr. crow felt the gray spot on his head getting a good deal grayer, and he dropped his knife and fork, and swallowed two or three times, and tried to smile, though it was a sickly smile. he said that mr. rabbit was very kind, but that mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon had done a good deal of the work, too. but jack rabbit said "no," that nobody but an industrious person like mr. crow could have raised _those_ vegetables--a person who got up early, he said, and was used to taking a little trouble to get the best things. then mr. crow went after the dessert, and was glad enough that there were no more vegetables to come, especially of that kind. and mr. rabbit seemed to forget about looking at the garden until they were all through, and then he said that before they went outside he would read a little poem he had composed that morning lying in bed and looking at the sunrise across his own garden. he said he called it: me and my garden oh, it's nice to have a garden on which to put my labors. it's nice to have a garden especially for my neighbors. i like to see it growing when skies are blue above me; i like to see it gathered by those who really love me. i like to think in winter of pleasant summer labors; oh, it's nice to have a garden especially for my neighbors. everybody said that was a nice poem and sounded just like mr. rabbit, who was always so free-hearted--all except mr. crow, who tried to say it was nice, and couldn't. then mr. rabbit said they'd better go out now to see the hollow tree garden, but mr. crow said really he couldn't stand it yet, and they could see by his looks that he was feeling pretty sick, and mr. turtle said it was too bad to think of taking mr. crow out in the sun when he had worked so hard. so then they all sat around and smoked and told stories, and whenever they stopped mr. crow thought of something else to do and seemed to get better toward night, and got a great deal better when it got dark, and mr. jack rabbit said all at once that now it was too late to see the hollow tree garden, and that he was so sorry, for he knew he could have learned something if he could just have one look at it, for nobody could see those vegetables and that garden without learning a great deal. [illustration: jack rabbit capered and laughed all the way home] then he said he must go, and mr. turtle said he guessed _he_ must go too, so they both set out for home, and when jack rabbit got out of sight of the hollow tree and into a little open moonlight place, he just laid down on the ground and rolled over and laughed and kicked his feet, and sat up and rocked and looked at the moon and laughed; and he capered and laughed all the way home at the good joke he had all to himself on mr. crow. for mr. rabbit had been lying awake in bed that morning when mr. crow was in his garden, and he had seen mr. crow _all_ the time. when jack rabbit was a little boy when jack rabbit was a little boy a story of a very long time ago the little lady skips first on one foot and then on the other foot, around and around, until pretty soon she tumbles backward into _twelve flower-pots_. that, of course, makes a great damage, and though the little lady herself isn't hurt to speak of, she is frightened very much and has to be comforted by everybody, including the story teller, who comes last, and finishes up by telling about something that happened to jack rabbit when _he_ was little. once upon a time, it begins, when mr. jack rabbit was quite small, his mother left him all alone one afternoon while she went across the wide grass lands to visit an old aunt of hers and take her some of the nice blackberries she had been putting up that morning. mrs. rabbit had been very busy all the forenoon, and little jack had been watching her and making believe he was putting up berries too. and when mrs. rabbit got through she had cleaned her stove and polished it as nice as could be; then she gave little jack rabbit his dinner, with some of the berries that were left over, and afterward she washed his face and hands and found his blocks for him to play with, besides a new stick of red sealing-wax--the kind she used to seal her cans with; for they did not have patent screw-top cans in those days, but always sealed the covers on with red sealing-wax. [illustration: took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started] then mrs. rabbit told little jack that he could play with his blocks, and build houses, with the red stick for a chimney, and to be a good boy until she came home. so little jack rabbit promised, and mrs. rabbit kissed him twice and took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started. little jack would have gone with her, only it was too far. well, after she had left, little jack played with his blocks and built houses and set the stick of sealing-wax up for a brick chimney, and by-and-by he played he was canning fruit, and he wished he could have a little stove and little cans and a little stick of sealing-wax, so he could really do it all just as she did. then little jack rabbit looked at the nice polished stove and wondered how it would be to use that, and to build a little fire in it--just a _little_ fire--which would make everything seem a good deal more real, he thought, than his make-believe stove of blocks. and pretty soon little jack opened the stove door and looked in, and when he stirred the ashes there were still a few live coals there, and when he put in some shavings they blazed up, and when he put in some pieces of old shingles and things they blazed up too, and when he put in some of mrs. rabbit's nice dry wood the stove got _quite hot_! then little jack rabbit became somewhat frightened, for he had only meant to make a very small fire, and he thought this might turn into a big fire. also, he remembered some things his mother had told him about playing with fire and about _never going near a hot stove_. he thought he'd better open the stove door a little to see if the fire was getting too big, but he was afraid to touch it with his fingers for fear of burning them. he had seen his mother use a stick or something to open the stove door when it was hot, so he picked up the first thing that came handy, which was the stick of sealing-wax. but when he touched it to the hot door the red stick sputtered a little and left a bright red spot on the stove door. then little jack forgot all about putting up blackberries, admiring that beautiful red spot on the shiny black stove, and thinking how nice it would be to make some more like it, which he thought would improve the looks of the stove a great deal. [illustration: and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove] so then he touched it again in another place and made another spot, and in another place and made another spot, and in a lot of places and made a lot of spots, and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove, which was nice and smooth to mark on, though he made _some_ on the pipe. you would hardly have known it was the same stove when he got all through, and little jack thought how beautiful it was and how pleased his mother would be when she got home and _saw_ it. but then right away he happened to think that perhaps she might not be so pleased after all, and the more he thought about it the more sure he was that she wouldn't like her nice red-striped and spotted stove as well as a black one; and, besides, she had told him _never_ to play with fire. [illustration: little jack knew perfectly well that she wasn't at all pleased] and just at that moment mrs. rabbit herself stepped in the door! and when she looked at her red-spotted and striped stove and then at little jack rabbit, little jack knew perfectly well without her saying a single word that she wasn't _at all pleased_. so he began to cry very loud, and started to run, and tripped over his blocks and fell against a little stand-table that had mrs. rabbit's work-basket on it (for mrs. rabbit always knit or sewed while she was cooking anything), and all the spools and buttons and knitting-work went tumbling, with little jack rabbit right among them, holloing, "oh, i'm killed! i'm killed!"--just sprawling there on the floor, afraid to get up, and expecting every minute his mother would do something awful. but mrs. rabbit just stood and looked at him over her spectacles and then at her red-spotted and striped stove, and pretty soon she said: "well, this is a lovely mess to come home to!" which of course made little jack take on a good deal worse and keep on bawling out that he was killed, until mrs. rabbit told him that he was making a good deal of noise for a _dead_ man, and that if he'd get up and pick up all the things he'd upset maybe he'd come to life again. then little jack rabbit got up and ran to his mother and cried against her best dress and got some tears on it, and mrs. rabbit sat down in her rocker and looked at her stove and rocked him until he felt better. and by-and-by she changed her dress and went to cleaning her stove while little jack picked up all the things--all the spools and buttons and needles and knitting-work--every single thing. [illustration: promised never to disobey his mother again] and after supper, when he said his prayers and went to bed, he promised never to disobey his mother again. a hollow tree picnic a hollow tree picnic the little lady and the story teller, and their friends not far from the house of low ceilings, which stands on the borders of the big deep woods, there is a still smaller house, where, in summertime, the story teller goes to make up things and write them down. and one warm day he is writing away and not noticing what time it is when he thinks he hears somebody step in the door. so then he looks around, and he sees a little straw hat and a little round red face under it, and then he sees a basket, and right away he knows it is the little lady. and the little lady says: "i've brought the picnic--did you know it?" "why, no!" the story teller says, looking surprised. "is it time?" "yes, and i've got huckleberries and cream, and some hot biscuits." "good gracious! let's see!" so then the story teller looks, and, sure enough, there they are, and more things, too; and pretty soon the little lady and he go down to a very quiet place under some hemlock-trees by a big rock where there is a clear brook and a spring close by, and they sit down, and the little lady spreads the picnic all out--and there is ham too, and bread-and-butter, and doughnuts and they are so hungry that they eat everything, and both dip into one bowl when they get to huckleberries and cream. then the little lady says: "now tell me about the hollow tree people; they have picnics, too." "sure enough, they do. and i think i'll have to tell you about their very last picnic and what happened." well, once upon a time mr. 'possum said that he was getting tired of sitting down to a table every meal in a close room with the smell of cooking coming in, and if mr. crow would cook up a few things that would taste good cold he'd pack the basket (that is, mr. 'possum would) and mr. 'coon could carry it, and they'd go out somewhere and eat their dinner in a nice place under the trees. mr. 'coon said he knew a pleasant place to go, and mr. crow said he'd cook one of mr. man's chickens, which mr. 'possum had brought home the night before, though it would take time, he said, because it was pretty old--mr. 'possum having picked it out in the dark in a hurry. [illustration: and he tasted of that a little, too] so then they all flew around and put away things, and mr. crow got the chicken on while mr. 'coon sliced the bread and mr. 'possum cut the cake, which they had been saving for sunday, and he picked out a pie too, and a nice book to read which mr. crow had found lying in mr. man's yard while the folks were at dinner. then he packed the basket all neat and nice, and ate a little piece of the cake when mr. 'coon had stepped out to see how the chicken was coming along, and when the chicken was ready he cut it all up nicely, and he tasted of that a little, too, while mr. crow was getting on his best picnic things to go. and pretty soon they all started out, and it was so bright and sunny that mr. 'possum began to sing a little, and mr. 'coon told him not to make a noise like that or they'd have company--mr. dog or mr. fox or somebody--when there was only just enough chicken for themselves, which made mr. 'possum stop right away. and before long they came to a very quiet place under some thick hemlock-trees behind a stone wall and close to a brook of clear water. that was the place mr. 'coon had thought of, and they sat down there and spread out all the things on some moss, and everything looked so nice that mr. 'possum said they ought to come here every day and eat dinner as long as the hot weather lasted. then they were all so hungry that they began on the chicken right away, and mr. 'possum said that maybe he _might_ have picked out a tenderer one, but that he didn't think he could have found a bigger one, or one that would have lasted longer, and that, after all, size and lasting were what one needed for a picnic. [illustration: mr. possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep] so they ate first one thing and then another, and mr. 'coon asked if they remembered the time mr. dog had come to one of their picnics before they were friends with him, when he'd really been invited to stay away; and they all laughed when they thought how mr. rabbit had excused himself, and the others, too, one after another, until mr. dog had the picnic mostly to himself. and by-and-by the hollow tree people lit their pipes and smoked, and mr. 'possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep, and dreamed, and had a kind of a nightmare about that other picnic, and talked in his sleep about it, which made mr. 'coon think of something to do. so then mr. 'coon got some long grass and made a strong band of it and very carefully tied mr. 'possum to the tree, and just as mr. 'possum began to have his dream again and was saying "oh! oh! here comes mr. dog!" mr. 'coon gave three loud barks right in mr. 'possum's ear, and mr. crow said "wake up! wake up, mr. 'possum! here he comes!" and mr. 'possum did wake up, and jumped and jerked at that band, and holloed out as loud as he could: "oh, please let me go, mr. dog! oh, please let me go, mr. dog!" for he thought it was mr. dog that had him, and he forgot all about them being friends. but just then he happened to see mr. crow and mr. 'coon rolling on the ground and laughing, and he looked down to see what had him and found he was tied to a tree, and he knew that they had played a joke on him. that made him pretty mad at first, and he said if he ever got loose he'd pay them back for their smartness. [illustration: so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. 'coon untied him] then mr. 'coon told him he most likely never would get loose if he didn't promise not to do anything, so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. coon untied him. mr. 'possum said he guessed the chicken must have been pretty hard to digest, and he knew it was pretty salty, for he was dying for a good cold drink. then mr. 'coon said he knew where there was a spring over beyond the wall that had colder water than the brook, and he'd show them the way to it. so they climbed over the wall and slipped through the bushes to the spring, and all took a nice cold drink, and just as they raised their heads from drinking they heard somebody say something. and they all kept perfectly still and listened, and they heard it again, just beyond some bushes. [illustration: "and what do you think they saw?"] so then they crept softly in among the green leaves and branches and looked through, and what do you think they saw? the story teller turns to the little lady, who seems a good deal excited. "why, why, what did they see?" she says. "tell me, quick!" "why," the story teller goes on, "they saw the little lady and the story teller having a picnic too, with all the nice things spread out by a rock, under the hemlock-trees." "oh," gasps the little lady, "did they really see us? and are they there now?" "they might be," says the story teller. "the hollow tree people slip around very softly. anyway, they were there then, and it was the first time they had ever seen the little lady and the story teller so close. and they watched them until they were all through with their picnic and had gathered up their things. then the 'coon and the 'possum and old black crow slipped away again, and crept over the wall and gathered up their own things and set out for home very happy." the little lady grasps the story teller's hand. "let's go and see their picnic place!" she says. "they may be there now." so the little lady and the story teller go softly down to the spring and get a drink; then they creep across to the mossy stone wall and peer over, and there, sure enough, is a green mossy place in the shade, the very place to spread a picnic; and the little lady jumps and says "oh!" for she sees something brown whisk into the bushes. anyhow, she knows the hollow tree people have been there, for there is a little piece of paper on the moss which they must have used to wrap up something, and she thinks they most likely heard her coming and are just gone. so the story teller lifts her over the wall, and they sit down on the green moss of the hollow tree picnic place, and she leans up against him and listens to the singing of the brook, and the story teller sings softly too, until by-and-by the little lady is asleep. and it may be, as they sit there and drowse and dream, that the hollow tree people creep up close and watch them. who knows? [illustration] [illustration: [see p. the hollow tree and deep woods people mr. crow, mr. turtle, mr. 'coon, mr. 'possum, mr. robin, mr. squirrel, mr. dog, mr. rabbit then mr. dog said: "i know all about menageries, for i have been to one"] the hollow tree snowed-in book being a continuation of the stories about the hollow tree and deep woods people by albert bigelow paine author of "the hollow tree and deep woods book" with illustrations by j. m. condÉ [illustration] new york and london harper & brothers publishers m c m x books by albert bigelow paine the hollow tree snowed-in book. crown vo $ . the ship-dwellers. illustrated vo . the tent-dwellers. illustrated post vo . the hollow tree and deep woods book. illustrated. post vo . from van-dweller to commuter. ill'd. post vo . life of thomas nast. ill'd vo _net_ . harper & brothers, publishers, n. y. copyright, , by harper & brothers published october, _printed in the united states of america_ to all dwellers in the big deep woods of dream [illustration: map of the hollow tree and deep woods country] explanation of map the top of the map is south. this is always so with the hollow tree people. the cross on the shelf below the edge of the world (where the ladder is) is where mr. dog landed, and the ladder is the one brought by mr. man for him to climb back on. the tree that mr. man cut down shows too. the spot on the edge of the world is where the hollow tree people sometimes sit and hang their feet over, and talk. a good many paths show, but not all by a good deal. the bridge and plank near mr. turtle's house lead to the wide grass lands and big west hills. the spots along the foot race show where grandpaw hare stopped, and the one across the fence shows where mr. turtle landed. most of the other things tell what they are, and all the things are a good deal farther apart than they look. of course there was not room on the map for everything. to friends old and new i wonder if you have ever heard a story which begins like this: "once upon a time, in the far depths of the big deep woods, there was a big hollow tree with three hollow branches. in one of these there lived a 'coon, in another a 'possum, and in the third a big black crow." that was the way the first story began in a book which told about the hollow tree people and their friends of the big deep woods who used to visit them, and how they all used to sit around the table, or by the fire, in the parlor-room down-stairs, where they kept most of their things, and ate and talked and had good times together, just like folk.[a] and the stories were told to the little lady by the story teller, and there were pictures made for them by the artist, and it was all a long time ago--so long ago that the little lady has grown to be almost a big lady now, able to read stories for herself, and to write them, too, sometimes. but the story teller and the artist did not grow any older. the years do not make any difference to them. like the hollow tree people they remain always the same, for though to see them you might think by their faces and the silver glint in their hair that they are older, it would not be so, because these things are only a kind of enchantment, made to deceive, when all the time they are really with the hollow tree people in the big deep woods, where years and enchantments do not count. it was only mr. dog, because he lived too much with mr. man, who grew old and went away to that far land of evening which lies beyond the sunset, taking so many of the hollow tree stories with him. we thought these stories were lost for good when mr. dog left us, but that was not true, for there came another mr. dog--a nephew of our old friend--and he grew up brave and handsome, and learned the ways of the hollow tree people, and their stories, and all the old tales which the first mr. dog did not tell. and now, too, there is another little lady--almost exactly like the first little lady--and it may be that it is this little lady, after all, who keeps the artist and the story teller young, for when she thought they might be growing older, and forgetting, she went with them away from the house of many windows, in the city, to the house of low ceilings and wide fireplaces--a queer old house like mr. rabbit's--built within the very borders of the big deep woods, where they could be always close to mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum and the old black crow, and all the others, and so learn all the new tales of the hollow tree. footnote: [a] _the hollow tree and deep woods book_, by the same author and artist. contents page to friends old and new the first snowed-in story mr. dog at the circus the second snowed-in story the widow crow's boarding-house the finding of the hollow tree the third snowed-in story the fourth snowed-in story the "snowed-in" literary club the "snowed-in" literary club--part ii the discontented fox mr. 'possum's great story the bark of old hungry-wolf an early spring call on mr. bear mr. crow's garden when jack rabbit was a little boy a hollow tree picnic illustrations page the hollow tree and deep woods people _frontispiece_ map of the hollow tree and deep woods country gathering nice pieces of wood the pantry in the hollow tree "slipped in behind him when he went into the tent" "he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions" "gave me an extra big swing and crack" all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him "then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star" "then mr. dog said, 'tell me another'" "and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough" "i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye" came clattering down right in front of mr. dog so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder he was an old bachelor and liked to have his own way they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law had to stay at home and peel potatoes listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep mr. 'possum said he'd just get on and hold the things mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove mr. fox said he didn't have much to do for a few minutes and he'd act as judge sailing along, just touching the highest points away went mr. tortoise, clear over the top rail set out for home by a back way tried to splice his property back in place grandfather would light his pipe and think it over set up his ears and went by, lickety-split "'glad to see you,' said king lion; 'i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast'" got around the table and began to work mr. 'possum wanted to know what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails mr. dog said he had made a few sketches mr. 'possum said it might be a good enough story, but it couldn't be true so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be "it" mr. 'possum had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head mr. 'possum said he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story and so this cat grew rich and fat his clerks a solemn look was in his face quoth he, "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay" aunt melissy had arranged a bundle for uncle silas, and she had fixed up the hired man too didn't look as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family mr. turtle said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true one day mr. crow found he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything then mr. 'coon slammed his door mr. 'possum said not to move, that he would go after a piece of wood he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair with a look and a sigh they would stand and behold the tastiest pastry that ever was known then to stir and to bake he began right away the greedy old raven, but greedy no more looked straight at mr. 'possum and said, "what was that you were chewing just now?" they went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was mr. bear must have been very tired and gone to sleep right where he was mr. 'coon scratched his back against a little bush mr. rabbit thanked him from across the river one said it was one way and the other the other way mr. crow decided to thin out a few of jack rabbit's things mr. crow was almost afraid to bring on the salad jack rabbit capered and laughed all the way home took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove little jack knew perfectly well that she wasn't at all pleased promised never to disobey his mother again and he tasted of that a little, too mr. 'possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. 'coon untied him "and what do you think they saw?" the first snowed-in story [illustration: gathering nice pieces of wood] in which the reader learns to know the hollow tree people and their friends, and the little lady, and the story teller now this is the beginning of the hollow tree stories which the story teller told the little lady in the queer old house which stands in the very borders of the big deep woods itself. they were told in the room of the lowest ceiling and the widest fire--a ceiling so low that when the story teller stands upright it brushes his hair as he walks, and a fire so deep that pieces of large trees do not need to be split but can be put on whole. in the old days, several great-grandfathers back, as the hollow tree people might say, these heavy sticks were drawn in by a horse that came right through the door and dragged the wood to the wide stone hearth. it is at the end of new-year's day, and the little lady has been enjoying her holidays, for santa claus found his way down the big stone chimney and left a number of things she wanted. now, when the night is coming down outside, and when inside there is a heap of blazing logs and a rocking-chair, it is time for the story teller. the story teller generally smokes and looks into the fire when he tells a hollow tree story, because the hollow tree people always smoke and look into the fire when _they_ tell _their_ stories, and the little lady likes everything to be "just the same," and the stories must be always told just the same, too. if they are not, she stops the story teller and sets him right. so while the little woman passes to and fro, putting away the tea-things, the story teller lights his pipe, and rocks, and looks into the fire, and holds the little lady close, and begins the tales of the hollow tree. "once upon a time," he begins-- "once upon a time," murmurs the little lady, settling herself. "yes, once upon a time, in the old days of the hollow tree, when mr. dog had become friends with the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow who lived in the three hollow branches of the big hollow tree, and used to meet together in their parlor-room down-stairs and invite all their friends, and have good times together, just like folk--" "but they live there now, don't they?" interrupts the little lady, suddenly sitting up, "and still have their friends, just the same?" "oh yes, of course, but this was one of the old times, you know." the little lady settles back, satisfied. "go on telling, now," she says. "well, then, this was one of the times when all the deep woods people had been invited to the hollow tree for christmas day, and were snowed in. of course they didn't expect to be snowed in. nobody ever expects to be snowed in till it happens, and then it's too late." "was that the christmas that mr. dog played santa claus and brought all the presents, and mr. squirrel and mr. robin and mr. turtle and jack rabbit came over, and they all sat around the fire and ate things and told nice stories? you said you would tell about that, and you never did." "i am going to tell it now, as soon as a little lady gets real still," says the story teller. so then the little lady _is_ "real still," and he tells the first snowed-in story, which is called: mr. dog at the circus the hollow tree people learn something very important about shows that was a great christmas in the hollow tree. the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow had been getting ready for it for a long time, and brought in ever so many nice things to eat, which mr. crow had cooked for them, for mr. crow is the best cook of anybody in the big deep woods. then mr. dog had brought a lot of good things, too, which he had borrowed from mr. man's house, so they had the finest christmas dinner that you can think of, and plenty for the next day when it would be even better, because chicken and turkey and dressing and such things are always better the next day, and even the _third_ day, with gravy, than they are when they are first cooked. [illustration: the pantry in the hollow tree] then, when they were all through and were standing around, smoking their new pipes and looking at each other's new neckties and other christmas things, mr. crow said that he and mr. squirrel would clear off the table if the others would get in some wood and stir up the fire and set the room to rights, so they could gather round and be comfortable by-and-by; and then, he said, it might snow as much as it liked as long as they had plenty of wood and things to eat inside. so then they all skurried around getting on their things to go out after wood--all except mr. crow and mr. squirrel, who set about clearing off the table and doing up the dishes. and pretty soon mr. dog and mr. 'coon and the rest were hopping about where the snow was falling so soft and silent among the big, leafless trees, gathering nice pieces of wood and brushing the snow off of them and piling them into the first down-stairs of the hollow tree, which the 'coon and 'possum and old black crow use for their wood-house and general store-room. it was great fun, and they didn't feel the least bit cold after their warm dinner and with all that brisk exercise. mr. robin didn't help carry the wood in. he was hardly strong enough for that, but he hopped about and looked for good pieces, and when he found one he would call to mr. 'coon or mr. 'possum, or maybe to one of the others, to throw it on his shoulder and carry it in, and then he would tell whoever it happened to be how strong he was and how fine he looked with that great chunk on his shoulder, and would say that he didn't suppose there was another 'coon, or 'possum, or turtle, or rabbit, or dog that could begin to stand up straight under such a chunk as that anywhere outside of a menagerie. mr. robin likes to say pleasant things to his friends, and is always popular. and each one tried to carry the biggest load of wood to show how strong he was, and pretty soon they had the lower room of the hollow tree piled up high with the finest chunks and kindling pieces to be found anywhere. then they all hurried up-stairs, stamping the snow off their feet, and gathered around the nice warm fire in the big parlor which was just below the three big hollow branches where the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow had their rooms. mr. crow and mr. squirrel were through with the table by this time, and all hands lit their pipes, and looked into the fire, and smoked, and rested, and thought a little before they began talking--thinking, of course, of what a good time they were having, and how comfortable and nice it was to be inside and warm when such a big snow was falling outside. mr. 'possum was the first one to say anything. he said he had been thinking of what mr. robin had said about them being outside of a menagerie, and that, come to think about it, he believed he didn't know what a menagerie was, unless it was a new name for a big dinner, as that was the only thing he could think of now that they were outside of, and he said if that was so, and if he could get outside of two menageries, he thought he could carry in a bigger chunk than any two chunks there were down-stairs. then all the others laughed a good deal, and mr. 'coon said he had thought that perhaps a menagerie was something to wear that would make anybody who had it on very strong, and able to stand up under a big load, and to eat as much as mr. 'possum could, or even more. but mr. robin said that it didn't mean either of those things. he said he didn't really know what it did mean himself, but that it must be some kind of a place that had a great many large creatures in it, for he had heard his grandmother quite often call his grandfather the biggest goose outside of a menagerie, though, being very young then, mr. robin couldn't remember just what she had meant by it. mr. rabbit said he thought that the word "menagerie" sounded like some kind of a picnic, with swings and nice lively games, and mr. crow said that once when he was flying he passed over a place where there was a big sign that said "menagerie" on it, and that there were some tents and a crowd of people and a great noise, but that he hadn't seen anything that he could carry off without being noticed, so he didn't stop. mr. squirrel thought that from what mr. crow said it must be a place where there would be a lot of fine things to see, and mr. turtle said that he was a good deal over three hundred years old and had often heard of a menagerie, but that he had never seen one. he said he had always supposed that it was a nice pond of clear water, with a lot of happy turtles and fish and wild geese and duck and such things, in it, and maybe some animals around it, all living happily together, and taken care of by mr. man, who brought them a great many good things to eat. he had always thought he would like to live in a menagerie, he said, but that nobody had ever invited him, and he had never happened to come across one in his travels. mr. dog hadn't been saying anything all this time, but he knocked the ashes out of his pipe now, and filled it up fresh and lit it, and cleared his throat, and began to talk. it made him smile, he said, to hear the different ways people thought of a thing they had never seen. he said that mr. turtle was the only one who came anywhere near to what a menagerie really was, though of course mr. crow _had_ seen one on the outside. then mr. dog said: [illustration: "slipped in behind him when he went into the tent"] "i know all about menageries, on the outside and the inside too, for i have been to one. i went once with mr. man, though i wasn't really invited to go. in fact, mr. man invited me to stay at home, and tried to slip off from me; but i watched which way he went, and took long roundin's on him, and slipped in behind him when he went into the tent. he didn't know for a while that i was there, and i wasn't there so very long. but it was plenty long enough--a good deal longer than i'd ever stay again, unless i was tied. "i never saw so many wild, fierce-looking creatures in my life as there were in that menagerie, and they were just as wild and fierce as they looked. they had a lot of cages full of them and they had some outside of cages, though i don't know why they should leave any of those dangerous animals around where they could damage folks that happened to come in reach, as i did. those animals outside didn't look as wild and fierce as those in the cages, but they were. "i kept in the crowd, close behind mr. man at first, and nobody knew i was there, but by-and-by he climbed up into a seat to watch some people all dressed up in fancy clothes ride around a ring on horses, which i didn't care much about, so i slipped away, and went over to where there were some things that i wanted to take my time to and see quietly. "there was an animal about my size and style tied over in one corner of the tent, behind a rope, with a sign in front of him which said, 'the only tame hyena in the world.' he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions. [illustration: "he looked smiling and good-natured, and i went over to ask him some questions"] "but that sign wasn't true. he wasn't the least bit tame, and i'm sure now that he wasn't smiling. he grabbed me before i had a chance to say a word, and when i jerked loose, which i did right away, for i didn't want to stir up any fuss there, i left quite a piece of my ear with the tame hyena, and tripped backward over the rope and rolled right in front of a creature called an elephant, about as big as a house and not as useful. "i suppose they thought _he_ was tame, too, but he must have been tamed by the same man, for he grabbed me with a kind of a tail that grew on the end of his nose--a thing a good deal like mr. 'possum's tail, only about a million times as big--and i could hear my ribs crack as he waved me up and down. "of course, as i say, i didn't want to stir up any fuss, but i couldn't keep still under such treatment as that, and i called right out to mr. man, where he sat looking at the fancy people riding, and told him that i had had enough of the show, and if he wanted to take any of me home he ought not to wait very long, but come over that way and see if he couldn't get the tame elephant to practise that performance on the hyena or the next dog, because i had had plenty, and was willing to go home just as i was, all in one piece, even if not very lively. "mr. man _came_, too, and so did a lot of the others. they seemed to think that i was more to look at than those riding people; and some of them laughed, though what there was happening that was funny i have never been able to guess to this day. i kept right on telling mr. man what i wanted him to do, and mebbe i made a good deal of noise about it, for it seemed to stir up those other animals. there was a cage full of lions that started the most awful roaring you can think of, and a cage of crazy-looking things they called monkeys that screeched and howled and swung back and forth in rings and held on to the bars, and all the other things joined in, until i couldn't tell whether i was still saying anything or not. i suppose they were all jealous of the elephant because of the fun he was having, and howling to be let out so they could get hold of me too. "well, you never heard of such a time. it nearly broke up the show. everybody ran over to look, and even the riding people stopped their horses to enjoy it, too. if it only hadn't been so dangerous and unpleasant i should have been proud of the way they came to see me perform. "but mr. man didn't seem to like it much. i heard him tell somebody, as loud as he could, that i would be killed, and that i was the best dog he ever had, and that if i _was_ killed he'd sue the show. "that made me proud, too, but i wished he wouldn't wait to sue the show, but would do something right away, and just then a man with a fancy dress on and a stick with a sharp iron hook on it came running up and said something i didn't understand and hit the elephant with the hook end of the stick, and he gave me an extra big swing and crack and flung me half-way across the tent, where i landed on a bunch of hay right in front of a long-necked thing called a camel--another terrible tame creature, i suppose--who had me about half eaten up with his old long under lip, before mr. man could get over there. "when mr. man did get hold of me, he said that i'd better take what was left of me home, for they were going to feed the animals pretty soon, and that i would likely get mixed up with the bill of fare. "after that he took me to the entrance and pushed me outside, and i heard all those fierce creatures in the cages growl and roar louder than ever, as if they had expected to sample me and were sorry to see me go. [illustration: "gave me an extra big swing and crack"] "that's what a menagerie is--it's a place where they have all the kinds of animals and things in the world, for show, and a good many birds, and maybe turtles, too, but they don't have any fine clear pond. they have just a big tent, like the one mr. crow saw, and a lot of cages inside. they keep most of the animals in cages, and they ought to keep them all there, and i don't think they feed them very much, nor the best things, or they wouldn't look so fierce and hungry. "they just keep them for mr. man and his friends to look at and talk about, and if mr. turtle will take my advice he will keep out of a menagerie and live in the wide blue water where he was born. i wouldn't have gone there again unless i had been tied and dragged there, or unless they had put those tame animals into cages with the others. no doubt there are some very fine, strong animals in a menagerie, but they wouldn't be there if they could help it, and if anybody ever invites any of you to join a menagerie, take my advice and don't do it." then mr. dog knocked the ashes out of his pipe again, and all the other deep woods people knocked the ashes out of _their_ pipes, too, and filled them up fresh, and one said one thing, and one said another about being in a menagerie or out of it, and every one thought it would be a terrible thing to be shut up in a cage, except mr. 'possum, who said he wouldn't mind it if they would let him sleep enough and give him all he could eat, but that a cage without those things would be a lonesome place. then mr. 'coon said that a little adventure had happened to him once which he had never mentioned before, because he had never known just what to make of it; but he knew now, he said, that he had come very near getting into a menagerie, and he would tell them just what happened. the story teller looked down at the quiet figure in his lap. the little lady's head was nestled close to his shoulder, and her eyes were straining very hard to keep open. "i think we will save mr. 'coon's story till another night," he said. the second snowed-in story mr. 'coon tells how he came near being a part of a menagerie, and how he once told a story to mr. dog "you can tell about mr. 'coon, now--the story you didn't tell last night, you know," and the little lady wriggles herself into a comfortable corner just below the story teller's smoke, and looks deep into a great cavern of glowing embers between the big old andirons, where, in her fancy, she can picture the hollow tree people and their friends. "why, yes, let me see--" says the story teller. "mr. dog had just told about being at the menagerie, you know, and mr. 'coon was just going to tell how he came very near getting into a menagerie himself." "oh yes, of course--well, then, all the hollow tree people, the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow, and their friends who were visiting them--mr. dog and mr. robin and jack rabbit and mr. turtle and mr. squirrel--knocked the ashes out of their pipes and filled them up fresh--" "no, they had just done that." "that's so, i forgot. well, anyway, as soon as they got to smoking and settled back around the fire again mr. 'coon told them his story, and i guess we'll call it mr. 'coon's early adventure mr. 'coon said he was quite young when it happened, and was taking a pleasant walk one evening, to think over things a little, and perhaps to pick out a handy tree where mr. man's chickens roosted, when all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him, and he barely had time to get up a tree himself when a strange and very noisy mr. dog was leaping about at the foot of the tree, making a great fuss, and calling every moment for mr. man to hurry, for he had a young 'coon treed. "of course i laid pretty low when i heard that," mr. 'coon said, "for i knew that mr. man would most likely have a gun, so i got into a bunch of leaves and brush that must have been some kind of an old nest and scrooched down so that none of me would show. [illustration: all at once he heard a fierce bark close behind him] "then by-and-by i heard some big creature come running through the brush, and i peeked over a little, and there, sure enough, was mr. man with a long gun, and i noticed that he wore a thing on his head--a sort of hat, i suppose--made of what looked to be the skin of some relative of mine. "of course that made me mad. i hadn't cared so much until i saw that; but i said right then to myself that any one who would do such a thing as that never could be a friend of mine, no matter how much he tried. so i scrooched down and laid low in that old nest, and didn't move or let on in any way that i was there. "then i heard mr. man walking around the tree and talking to his dog and telling him that there wasn't anything up in that tree at all, and that mr. dog had just been fooling him. i could tell by his voice that he was getting mad at mr. dog, and i hoped that he'd get mad enough pretty soon to take a stick to him for chasing me up a tree like that, and then calling for mr. man to come and see me when there wasn't really anything to look at. "but mr. dog kept galloping around the tree and barking out, over and over, that i was there; that he had seen me, and that he knew that i was hiding up there somewhere; and pretty soon i heard mr. man going away, and i peeked over again. "sure enough, he was going, but mr. dog was staying right there, sitting under the tree and looking up and making a good deal more noise than there was any need of to let me know he hadn't gone. i didn't see why he stayed there. i wished he'd go away and tend to his own business. "being quite young, i still lived with my folks over near the wide grass lands, and i wanted to get home for supper. it was a good way to go, for the tree i had climbed was over close to the edge of the world where the sun and moon rise, and you all know that's a good way, even from here. "well, he didn't go, but just sat there, barking up that tree, and after a long time i heard somebody coming again, and i peeked over and there was mr. man, hurrying back, this time with an axe. i knew, right then, there was going to be trouble. i knew they were going to cut that tree down, and that i should most likely have quite a fuss with mr. dog, and perhaps go home with a black eye and a scratched nose, and then get whipped again for fighting, after i got there." mr. 'coon stopped and knocked the ashes out of his pipe and filled it up fresh, and all the others knocked the ashes out of their pipes and filled them up fresh, too. then mr. 'possum poked up the fire and told mr. turtle to bring a stick of wood from down-stairs, and when it was blazing up high and bright again they all stepped over to the window a minute, to see how hard it was snowing and banking up outside, then went back to their chairs around the fire, and stretched out their feet and leaned back and smoked, and listened to the rest of mr. 'coon's story. mr. 'coon said he didn't like the sound of that axe when mr. man began to cut the tree down. "every time he struck the tree i could feel it all through me," he said, "and i knew if he kept that noise up long enough it would give me a nervous headache. i wished the tree would hurry up and drop, so we could have what muss we were going to, and get it over with. i'd have got out of that old nest and made a jump for another tree if there had been any near enough, but there wasn't, so i just laid low and gritted my teeth and let him chop. "well, by-and-by that tree began to go down. it seemed to teeter a little at first, this way and that; then it went very slow in one direction; then it went a little faster; then it went a good deal faster; then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star, i came down so fast, and there was a big crash, and i thought i had turned into a lot of stars, sure enough, and was shooting in every direction, and the next i knew i was tied to a tree, hand and foot and around the middle, and mr. man and mr. dog were sitting and looking at me, and grinning, and talking about what they were going to do. [illustration: "then i suddenly felt like a shooting-star"] "mr. man wasn't scolding mr. dog any more. he was telling him what a good thing it was they had caught me alive, for now they could sell me to a show and get a great deal more for me than they could for my skin. i didn't know what a show was, then, or that a show is a menagerie, but i know now, and i can see just what they meant. "pretty soon mr. man told mr. dog to stay there and watch me while he went home after a box to put me in. he said he didn't think it would be safe to carry me in his arms, and he was right about that. "so then mr. man walked off, and left mr. dog guarding me, and saying unpleasant things to me now and then. "at first i wouldn't answer him; but pretty soon i happened to think of something pleasant to say: "'mr. dog,' i said, 'i know a good story, if you'd like me to tell it. mr. man may be a good while getting that box, and mebbe you'd like to hear something to pass the time.' "mr. dog said he would. he said that mr. man would most likely have to make the box, and he didn't suppose he knew where the hammer and nails were, and it might be dark before mr. man got back. "i felt a good deal better when i heard mr. dog say that, and i told him a story i knew about how mr. rabbit lost his tail, and mr. dog laughed and seemed to like it, and said, 'tell me another.'" [illustration: "then mr. dog said, 'tell me another'"] before mr. 'coon could go on with his story, mr. rabbit said that of course if that old tale had helped mr. 'coon out of trouble he was very glad, but that it wasn't at all true, and that some time _he_ would tell them himself the true story of how it happened. then they all said that they hoped he would, for they'd always wanted to hear that story told right, and then mr. 'coon went on with his adventure. mr. 'coon said that when mr. dog said, "tell me another," he knew he was in a good-humor, and that he felt better and better himself. "i thought if mr. man didn't come back too soon," he said, "i might get along pretty well with mr. dog. "'i know another story, mr. dog,' i said--'the funniest story there is. it would make you laugh until you fell over the edge of the world, but i can't tell it here.' "'why,' he said--'why can't you tell it here as well as anywhere?' "'because it has to be acted,' i said, 'and my hands are tied.' "'will you tell it if i untie your hands?' said mr. dog. "'well,' i said, 'i'll begin it, and you can see how it goes.' "so mr. dog came over and untied my hands, for he said he could tie them again before mr. man came back, because he knew mr. man hadn't found that hammer yet. "'you can't get loose with just your hands untied, can you?' he said. "'no, of course not, mr. dog,' i said, pleasant and polite as could be. "'let's see you try,' said mr. dog. "so i twisted and pulled, and of course i couldn't get loose. "'now tell the story,' said mr. dog. "so i said: 'once there was a man who had a very bad pain in his chest, and he took all kinds of medicine, and it didn't do him any good. and one day the old wise man of the woods told him if he would rub his chest with one hand and pat his head with the other, it might draw the pain out the top and cure him. so the man with the pain in his chest tried it, and he did it this way.' "then i showed mr. dog just how he did it, and mr. dog thought that was funny, and laughed a good deal. "'go on and tell the rest of it,' he said. 'what happened after that?' "but i let on as if i'd just remembered something, and i said, 'oh, mr. dog, i'm _so_ sorry, but i can't tell the rest of that story here, and it's the funniest part, too. i know you'd laugh till you rolled over the edge of the world.' "'why can't you tell the rest of that story here as well as anywhere?' said mr. dog, looking anxious. "'because it has to be acted with the feet,' i said, 'and my feet are tied.' "'will you tell it if i untie your feet?' said mr. dog. "'well, i'll do the best i can,' i said. "so mr. dog came over and untied my feet. he said he knew that mr. man hadn't found the nails or the pieces to make the box yet, and there would be plenty of time to tie me again before mr. man got back. "'you can't get loose, anyway, with just your hands and feet untied, can you?' he said. "'no, of course not, mr. dog,' i said, more pleasant and polite than ever. "'let's see you try,' said mr. dog. "so i squirmed and twisted, but of course with a strong string around my waist and tied behind i couldn't do anything. "'now go on with the story,' said mr. dog. [illustration: "and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough"] "'well,' i said, 'the pain left his chest, but it went into his back, and he had a most terrible time, until one day the old wise man of the woods came along and told him that he thought he ought to know enough by this time to rub his back where the pain was and pat his head at the same time to draw it out at the top. so then the man with the pain rubbed his back and patted his head this way,' and i showed mr. dog how he did it; and i rubbed a good while about where the knot was, and made a face to show how the man with the pain looked, and then i said the pain came back into his chest again instead of being drawn out at the top; and i changed about and rubbed there awhile, and then i went around to my back again, chasing that pain first one side and the other; and then i said that the old wise man of the woods came along one day and told him that he must kick with his feet too if he ever wanted to get rid of that pain, because, after all, it might have to be kicked out at the bottom; and when i began to kick and dance with both feet and to rub with my hands at the same time, mr. dog gave a great big laugh--the biggest laugh i ever heard anybody give--and fell right down and rolled over and over, and did roll off the edge of the world, sure enough. "i heard him go clattering into a lot of brush and blackberry bushes that are down there, and just then i got that back knot untied, and i stepped over and looked down at mr. dog, who had lodged in a brier patch on a shelf about ten feet below the edge, where mr. man would have to get him up with a ladder or a rope. "'do you want to hear the rest of the story, mr. dog?' i said. "'i'll story _you_,' he said, 'when i catch you!' "'i told you you'd laugh till you fell off the edge of the world,' i said. [illustration: "i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye"] "'i'll make _you_ laugh,' he said, 'when i catch you!' "then i saw he was cross about something, and i set out for home without waiting to say good-bye to mr. man, for i didn't want to waste any more time, though i missed my supper and got a scolding besides. "but i was glad i didn't bring home a black eye and scratched nose, and i'm more glad than ever now that mr. man didn't get back in time with that box, or i might be in a menagerie this minute instead of sitting here smoking and telling stories and having a good time on christmas day." the story teller looks down at the little lady. "i'm glad mr. 'coon didn't get into the menagerie, aren't you?" she says. "very glad," says the story teller. "he went lickety-split home, didn't he?" "he did that!" "i like them to go lickety-split better than lickety-cut, don't you?" says the little lady. "they seem to go so much faster." "ever so much faster," says the story teller. the widow crow's boarding-house early doings of the hollow tree people and how they found a home anybody can tell by her face that the little lady has some plan of her own when the story teller is ready next evening to "sit by the fire and spin." "i want you to tell me," she says, climbing up into her place, "how the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow ever got to living together in the hollow tree." that frightens the story teller. he is all ready with something different. "good gracious!" he says, "that is an old story that all the deep woods people have known ever so long." "but i don't know it," says the little lady, "and i'd like to know that before you tell anything else. rock, and tell it." so the story teller rocks slowly, and smokes, and almost forgets the little lady in remembering that far-away time, and presently he begins. well, it was all so long ago that perhaps i can't remember it very well. mr. 'possum was a young man in those days--a nice spry young fellow; and he used to think it was a good deal of fun to let mr. dog--who wasn't friendly then, of course--try to catch him; and when mr. dog would get pretty close and come panting up behind him, mr. 'possum would scramble up a tree, and run out on to the longest limb and swing from it, head down, and laugh, and say: "come right up, mr. dog! always at home to you, mr. dog! don't stop to knock!" and then mr. dog would race around under the tree and make a great to do, and sometimes mr. 'possum would swing back and forth, and pretty soon give a great big swing and let go, and mr. dog would think surely he had him then, and bark and run to the place where he thought he was going to drop. only mr. 'possum didn't drop--not far; for he had his limb all picked out, and he would catch it with his tail as he went by, and it would bend and sway with him, and he would laugh, and call again: "don't go, mr. dog! mr. man can get up the cows alone to-night!" [illustration: came clattering down right in front of mr. dog] and then mr. dog would remember that he was a good ways from home, and that if he wasn't there in time to help mr. man get up the cows there might be trouble; and he would set out lickety-split for home, with mr. 'possum calling to him as he ran. but one time mr. 'possum made a mistake. he didn't know it, but he was getting older and a good deal fatter than he had been at first, and when he swung out for another limb that way, and let go, he missed the limb and came clattering down right in front of mr. dog. he wasn't hurt much, for the ground was soft, and there was a nice thick bed of leaves; but i tell you he was scared, and when mr. dog jumped right on top of him, and grabbed him, he gave himself up for lost, sure enough. but mr. 'possum is smart in some ways, and he knows how to play "dead" better than any other animal there is. he knew that mr. dog would want to show him to mr. man, and that he was too heavy for mr. dog to carry. he had thought about all that, and decided what to do just in that little second between the limb and the ground, for mr. 'possum can think quick enough when anything like that happens. so when he struck the ground he just gave one little kick with his hind foot and a kind of a sigh, as if he was drawing his last breath, and laid there: and even when mr. dog grabbed him and shook him he never let on, but acted almost deader than if he had been really dead and no mistake. then mr. dog stood with his paws out and his nose down close, listening, and barking once in a while, and thinking maybe he would come to pretty soon, but mr. 'possum still never let on, or breathed the least little bit, and directly mr. dog started to drag him toward mr. man's house. that was a hard job, and every little way mr. dog would stop and shake mr. 'possum and bark and listen to see if he was really dead, and after a while he decided that he was, and started to get mr. man to come and fetch mr. 'possum home. but he only went a few steps, the first time, and just as mr. 'possum was about to jump up and run he came hurrying back, and stood over him and barked and barked as loud as ever he could for mr. man to come and see what he had for him. but mr. man was too far away, and even if he heard mr. dog he didn't think it worth while to come. so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder, to carry him that way; but mr. 'possum made himself so limp and loose and heavy that every time mr. dog would get him nearly up he would slide off again and fall all in a heap on the leaves; and mr. dog couldn't help believing that he was dead, to see him lying there all doubled up, just as he happened to drop. [illustration: so then mr. dog tried to get mr. 'possum on his shoulder] so, then, by-and-by mr. dog really did start for mr. man's, and mr. 'possum lay still, and just opened one eye the least bit to see how far mr. dog had gone, and when he had gone far enough mr. 'possum jumped up quick as a wink and scampered up a tree, and ran out on a limb and swung with his head down, and called out: "don't go away, mr. dog! we've had such a nice visit together! don't go off mad, mr. dog! come back and stay till the cows come home!" then mr. dog was mad, i _tell_ you, and told him what he'd do next time; and he set out for home fast as he could travel, and went in the back way and hid, for mr. man was already getting up the cows when he got there. well, mr. 'possum didn't try that swinging trick on mr. dog any more. he found out that it was dangerous, the way he was getting, and that made him think he ought to change his habits in other ways too. for one thing, he decided he ought to have some regular place to stay where he could eat and sleep and feel at home, instead of just travelling about and putting up for the night wherever he happened to be. mr. 'possum was always quite stylish, too, and had a good many nice clothes, and it wasn't good for them to be packed about all the time; and once some of his best things got rained on and he had to sleep on them for a long time to get them pressed out smooth again. so mr. 'possum made up his mind to find a home. he was an old bachelor and never wanted to be anything else, because he liked to have his own way, and go out all times of the night, and sleep late if he wanted to. so he made up his mind to look up a good place to board--some place that would be like a home to him--perhaps in a private family. one day when he was walking through the woods thinking about it, and wondering how he ought to begin to find a place like that, he met mr. z. 'coon, who was one of his oldest friends in the big deep woods. they had often been hunting together, especially nights, for mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum always like that time best for hunting, and have better luck in the dark than any other time. mr. 'coon had had his troubles with mr. dog, too, and had come very near getting caught one night when mr. man and some of his friends were out with mr. dog and his relatives and several guns looking for a good sunday dinner. mr. 'coon _would_ have got caught that time, only when mr. man cut the tree down that he was in he gave a big jump as the tree was falling and landed in another tree, and then ran out on a limb and jumped to another tree that wasn't so far away, and then to another, so that mr. man and his friends and all the dog family lost track of him entirely. [illustration: he was an old bachelor and liked to have his own way] but mr. 'coon was tired of that kind of thing too, and wanted some place where he could be comfortable, and where he could lock the door nights and feel safe. mr. 'coon was a bachelor, like mr. 'possum, though he had once been disappointed in love, and told about it sometimes, and looked sad, and even shed tears. so when he met mr. 'possum that day they walked along and talked about finding a place to live, and just as they were wondering what they ought to do they happened to notice, right in front of them, a little piece of birch bark tacked up on a tree, and when they read it, it said: mrs. widow crow. will take a few guests. single gentlemen preferred; pleasant location near race-track. then mr. 'possum scratched his head and tried to think, and mr. 'coon scratched _his_ head and tried to think, and pretty soon mr. 'coon said: [illustration: they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law] "oh yes, i know about that. that's mr. crow's mother-in-law. he had a wife until last year, and his mother-in-law used to live with them. i believe she was pretty cross, but i've heard mr. crow say she was a good cook, and that he had learned to cook a great many things himself. i heard some time ago that she had moved over by the race-track, and perhaps mr. crow is boarding with her. let's go over and see." so away they went, saying how nice it would be to be really settled, and pretty soon they got over to mrs. widow crow's, and there, sure enough, they saw mr. crow out in the yard cutting wood for his mother-in-law; and when they asked him about the advertisement, he said he was helping her to get started, and she had two nice rooms, and that mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon would be just the ones to fill them. so they went right in and saw mrs. widow crow about it, and by night they had their things moved and were all settled, and widow crow got a nice supper for them, and mr. crow helped her, and worked as hard as if he were a hired man instead of a boarder like the others, which he was, because he paid for his room as much as anybody, and got scolded besides when he didn't do things to suit his mother-in-law. the finding of the hollow tree how the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow moved and set up housekeeping well, the widow crow set a very good table, and everything in her boarding-house went along quite well for a while, and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon both said what a good thing it was to have a home, and mr. crow said so too, though he didn't look as if he enjoyed it as much as he said, for his mother-in-law kept him so busy cutting and carrying wood and helping her with the cooking that he never had any time for himself at all. even when mr. rabbit and some of his friends had the great fall handicap race he had to stay at home and peel potatoes, and not see it, besides being scolded all the time for wanting to go to such a thing as a rabbit race anyway. and mr. crow was sad because it reminded him of his married life, which he was trying to forget--mrs. crow having been the image of his mother-in-law and exactly like her about races and peeling potatoes and such things. and by-and-by, mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon didn't like it so much, either. widow crow got so she scolded them, too, about their habits, especially about being out nights and lying in bed next morning, and she wouldn't give them any breakfast unless they got up in time. at last she even asked them to take care of their own rooms and to do other work, the same as mr. crow did; and she didn't cook as good things, nor as many of them, as she did when they first came. then one day when they complained a little--not very much, for they were afraid of the widow crow, but a little--she told them that if they didn't like what she gave them they could find a place they liked better, and that she was tired of their ways anyhow. [illustration: had to stay at home and peel potatoes] so then mr. crow and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum all got together and talked it over. and mr. crow said _they_ might be pretty tired of it, but that they couldn't in a hundred years, thinking night and day, think how tired of it _he_ was. he said if they would just say the word he would take the things that belonged to him out of that house, and the three of them would find some good place and all live together, and never have anything more to do with mothers-in-law or their families. he said he knew how to cook as well as she did, and really liked to cook when he was in a pleasant place and wasn't henpecked to death. and he said if they moved his things they had better do it at night while his mother-in-law was asleep, so as not to disturb her. well, mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon both spoke right up and said _they'd_ go in a minute, and that they'd hunt up the place to live that very day, though it wasn't the best time of year to move. and mr. crow said: "i know where there's a big hollow tree that would be _just_ the place. it's the biggest tree in the big deep woods. it has three big hollow branches that would do for rooms, and with a little work it could be made into the finest place anywhere. the old wise man of the woods once lived there and fixed it all up with nice stairs, and a fireplace, and windows, and doors with good latches on them, and it's still just as he left it. all it needs are a few repairs, and we could move right in. i found it once as i was flying over, and i could tell _you_, so you could find it. it's in a thick swampy place, and you would never guess it was there if you didn't know it. mr. dog knows about it, but he never could get in if we kept the door latched, and it's not so far away from mr. man's that we could not borrow, when we ran out of little things we needed." well, mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon took the directions from mr. crow, and went right off to look at the hollow tree that very day, and decided they'd take it, and pitched in to clean it up and get it ready to live in. and next day they came with a hammer and some nails and worked all day again, and mr. rabbit heard the noise and came over and looked through the place and said how nice it was; and they were so tired at night that they never thought of going out, and were up early for breakfast. widow crow was so surprised she forgot what she had always scolded them for before, and scolded them this time for getting up so early that they had to stand around and wait for breakfast to be put on the table. but they didn't seem to mind the scolding at all, and mr. crow looked happier than he had looked for months, and skipped around and helped set the table, and brought in a big wood-box full of wood, and when widow crow scolded him for getting chips on the floor he laughed. then she boxed his ears and told him he ought to remember the poor missing one at such a time, and mr. crow said he did, and could almost imagine she was there now. well, mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum got the hollow tree all ready, that day, and that night they moved. the widow crow was pretty fat, and liked to go to bed early, and sleep sound, and leave mr. crow to do the evening dishes; and that evening mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum pitched in and helped him, and they got through in a jiffy and began to move. mr. crow said he knew his own things, and that he wouldn't take any that belonged to the missing one, because they had mostly come from her mother; and, besides, they would be a sad reminder, and didn't seem to go with the kind of a place they had planned to have. he said if they didn't have enough things they could borrow a few from mr. man when mr. man went away and left his windows open, and that they wouldn't need much to begin with. so then they got mr. crow's cook-stove out of the back store-room, and a table that was his, and some chairs from different parts of the house, and a few dishes which had come to him from his side of the family, and they tiptoed around and listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep. they knew she _was_ by the sound; but still they were very quiet until mr. 'possum started to bring a rocking-chair of mr. crow's down-stairs and somehow got his legs through the rounds and fell and rolled clear to the bottom, expressing his feelings as he came down. [illustration: listened now and then at widow crow's door to be sure she was asleep] that woke up widow crow with a jump, and she sat up in bed and called "thieves!" and "help!" and mr. crow ran to her door and said that it wasn't anything, only those scamps mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon had been out late again. he said they had brought home one of mr. man's beehives and had dropped it because the bees woke up just as they were climbing the stairs. then mrs. crow called out quick, and said for him not to dare to open that door and let those pesky bees into her room, and that she hoped they'd sting that 'possum and 'coon until they wouldn't be able to tell themselves apart. she said she bet she'd get that pair out of her house if she lived through the night. then she rolled over and went to sleep again, and mr. 'possum got up and limped a little, but wasn't much damaged, and they got all the things outside and loaded up, and set out for the hollow tree. [illustration: mr. 'possum said he'd just get on and hold the things] it was moonlight and mr. crow led the way, and the minute they were far enough off to be sure they wouldn't wake up widow crow they sang the chorus of a song that mr. rabbit had made for them the day before when he called at the hollow tree, and they had told him what they were going to do. that was the "hollow tree song," which, of course, everybody in the big deep woods knows now, but it had never been sung there before, and when they joined in the chorus, then here's to the 'possum and the old black crow and the 'coon with a one, two, three! and here's to the hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow-- then here's to the hollow tree, mr. owl, who was watching them from a limb overhead, thought he had never heard anything quite so fine. well, they couldn't get along very fast, for the things got so heavy and they had to rest so often that it began to look as if they wouldn't get to the hollow tree by morning. but just as they got out into a little open place that was about half-way there they saw somebody coming, and who do you suppose it was? "i know," says the little lady, "it was the old wise man of the woods, to tell them they couldn't have his house." no, he didn't live there any more--he had gone away for good. no, it wasn't the old wise man; it was mr. rabbit and mr. turtle, coming to help them move. mr. rabbit had gone all the way to the wide blue water after mr. turtle because he is so strong, and they would have been there a good deal sooner, only mr. turtle didn't get home till late, and travels slow. well, it wasn't so hard to move after that. they just set the cook-stove on mr. turtle's back and piled on as much as would stay on, and he kept telling them to put on more, until pretty soon mr. 'possum said that he would just get on and hold the things from slipping off, which he did, and sat on the stove and rode and swung his feet and held the other things, while mr. crow and the rest walked and carried what was left. [illustration: mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove] and when they got to the hollow tree it was just about sun-up, and mr. 'possum said if they didn't have breakfast pretty soon he would starve to death with being up all night and working so hard holding on those things. so then mr. crow told him that he and mr. 'coon could set up the stove, and that he would unpack the food and stir up something as quick as he could if the others would bring a little wood and some water from the spring, and place the things around inside; for he saw a cloud coming, he said, and it might rain. and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon tried to put up the stove in a hurry, and the pieces of pipe didn't fit very well, and they came as near having a quarrel over it as they ever did over anything, for even the best friends can't always put up stovepipe together without thinking and sometimes saying unpleasant things about each other, especially when they are hungry and not very warm and the house is all upset. mr. 'coon said he only wished he had another hand and he would do that job alone, and mr. 'possum told him that if he'd been provided with a handy and useful tail he'd _have_ the same as another hand, and could work more and not wish so much. then mr. rabbit came to help them, and just as they got it about up it all came down again, and mr. crow said that if they'd all go away he'd set up the stove himself; which he did in about a minute, and had a fire in it and the coffee on in no time. then the others rushed around and got the things straightened out, and a fire in the fireplace, and they said how nice their rooms were, and when mr. crow called they all came hurrying down, and in about another minute the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow, with mr. rabbit and mr. turtle, all sat down to the first meal in the hollow tree. it was then that jack rabbit read all of the "hollow tree song" he had made for them, and they all sang it together; and then the storm that mr. crow had seen coming did come, and they shut all the doors and windows tight, and sat before the fire and smoked and went to sleep, because they were so tired with being up all night. and that was the first day in the hollow tree, and how the 'possum and 'coon and old black crow came to live there, and they live there still. the third snowed-in story mr. rabbit tells some interesting family history the little lady waited until the story teller had lit his pipe and sat looking into the great open fire, where there was a hickory log so big that it had taken the story teller and the little lady's mother with two pairs of ice-tongs to drag it to the hearth and get it into place. pretty soon the little lady had crept in between the story teller's knees. then in another minute she was on one of his knees, helping him rock. then she said: "did mr. rabbit tell his story next? he promised to tell about losing his tail, you know." the story teller took his pipe from his mouth a moment, and sat thinking and gazing at the big log, which perhaps reminded him of one of the limbs of the hollow tree, where the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow lived and had their friends visit them that long-ago snowy christmastime. "why, yes," he said, "that's so, mr. rabbit _did_ tell that story. when mr. 'coon got through telling how he came near getting into a menagerie, they all said that it certainly was a very narrow escape, and mr. 'coon said he shouldn't wonder if that menagerie had to quit business, just because he wasn't in it; and mr. 'possum said he thought if anything would _save_ a menagerie that would, for it would keep them from being eaten out of house and home." then mr. 'coon said that if that was so, mr. 'possum had saved at least three menageries by staying right where he was in the big deep woods. this made mr. squirrel and mr. robin laugh, and the rest wondered what those two gigglers had noticed that was funny. then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes again, and walked over to the window, and looked at the snow banking up outside and piling up on the bare limbs of the big trees. they said how early it got dark this time of year, especially on a cloudy day. and pretty soon mr. crow said they had just about time for one more story before supper, and that mr. rabbit ought to tell now about how, a long time ago, his family had lost their tails. mr. rabbit didn't seem to feel very anxious to tell it, but they told him that he had promised, and that now was as good a time as any, so they went back and sat down, and mr. rabbit told them the true story of the hare and the tortoise, and how jack rabbit lost his tail "once upon a time," he said, "a great many great-grandfathers back, my family had long bushy tails, like mr. squirrel and mr. fox, only a good deal longer and finer and softer, and _very handsome_." when mr. rabbit said that, mr. squirrel sniffed and twitched his nose and gave his nice bushy tail a flirt, but he didn't say anything. mr. rabbit went right on. "well, there was one fine, handsome rabbit who had the longest and plumiest tail of any of the family, and was very proud of it. he was my twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and was called 'mr. hare.' he was young and smart then, and thought he was a good deal smarter than he really was, though he was smart enough and handsome enough to set the style for all the other rabbits, and not much ever happened to him, because he could beat anything running that there was in the big deep woods. "that twenty-seventh great-grandfather of mine was very proud of his running, and used to brag that in a foot-race he could beat anything that lived between the wide grass lands and the edge of the world. he used to talk about it to almost everybody that came along, and one day when he met one of the turtle family who used to be called 'mr. tortoise' in those days, he stopped and began to brag to him how fast he could run and how nobody in the big deep woods dared to race with him. "but mr. turtle, he just smiled a little and said: 'oh, pshaw! you can't run very fast. i believe i can beat you myself!' "well, that did make grandfather hare laugh--and made him a little mad, too. "'you!' he said. 'why, i'll give you within ten yards of that rail fence of mr. man's, half a mile away, and then beat you across it. just travel along, and some time this afternoon, when you get down that way, i'll come back and let you see me go by. but you'll have to look quick if you see me, for i'll be going fast.' "but mr. tortoise said he didn't want any start at all, that he was ready to begin the race right then; and that made grandpaw hare laugh so loud that mr. fox heard him as he was passing, and came over to see what the fun was. then he said that he hadn't much to do for a few minutes, and that he'd stay and act as judge. he thought a race like that wouldn't last long; and it didn't, though it wasn't at all the kind of a race he had expected. "well, he put mr. tortoise and my twenty-seventh great-grandfather side by side, and then he stood off and said, 'go!' and thought it would all be over in a minute. [illustration: mr. fox said he didn't have much to do for a few minutes and he'd act as judge] "grandpaw hare gave one great big leap, about twenty feet long, and then stopped. he was in no hurry, and he wanted to have some fun with mr. tortoise. he looked around to where mr. tortoise was coming straddling and panting along, and he laughed and rolled over to see how solemn he looked, and how he was travelling as if he meant to get somewhere before dark. he was down on all fours so he could use all his legs at once, and anybody would think, to look at him, that he really expected to win that race. "the more my grandpaw hare looked at him the more he laughed, and then he would make another long leap forward and stop, and look back, and wait for mr. tortoise to catch up again. "then he would call to him, or maybe go back and take roundin's on him, and say, 'come along there, old tobacco-box. are you tied to something?' mr. fox would laugh a good deal, too, and he told my ancestor to go on and finish the race--that he couldn't wait around there all day. and pretty soon he said if they were going to fool along like that, he'd just go down to the fence and take a nap till they got there; and for grandpaw rabbit to call to him when he really started to come, so he could wake up and judge the finish. "mr. fox he loped away to the fence and laid down and went to sleep in the shade, and grandpaw hare thought it would be fun to pretend to be asleep, too. i've heard a story told about it that says that he really did go to sleep, and that mr. tortoise went by him and got to the fence before he woke up. but that is not the way it happened. my twenty-seventh great-grandfather was too smart to go to sleep, and even if he had gone to sleep, mr. tortoise made enough noise pawing and scratching along through the grass and gravel to wake up forty of our family. "my ancestor would wait until he came grinding along and got up even with him, then suddenly he'd sit up as if he'd been waked out of a nice dream and say, 'hello, old coffee-mill! what do you want to wake me up for when i'm trying to get a nap?' then he would laugh a big laugh and make another leap, and lie down and pretend again, with his fine plumy tail very handsome in the sun. "but grandpaw hare carried the joke a little too far. he kept letting mr. tortoise get up a little closer and closer every time, until mr. tortoise would almost step on him before he would move. and that was just what mr. tortoise wanted, for about the next time he came along he came right up behind my ancestor, but instead of stepping on him, he gave his head a quick snap, just as if he were catching fish, and grabbed my grandpaw hare by that beautiful plumy tail, and held on, and pinched, and my ancestor gave a squeal and a holler and set out for that rail fence, telling his troubles as he came. "mr. fox had gone sound asleep and didn't hear the rumpus at first, and when he did, he thought grandpaw was just calling to him to wake up and be ready to judge the race, so he sat up quick and watched them come. he saw my twenty-seventh great-grandfather sailing along, just touching the highest points, with something that looked like an old black wash-pan tied to his tail. "when mr. fox saw what it was, he just laid down and laughed and rolled over, and then hopped up on the top rail and called, out 'all right, i'm awake, mr. hare! come right along, mr. hare; you'll beat him yet!' "then he saw my ancestor stop and shake himself, and paw, and roll over, to try to get mr. tortoise loose, which of course he couldn't do, for, as we all know, whenever any of the turtle family get a grip they never let go till it thunders, and this was a bright day. so pretty soon grandpaw was up and running again with mr. tortoise sailing out behind and mr. fox laughing to see them come, and calling out: 'come right along, mr. hare! come right along! you'll beat him yet!' [illustration: sailing along, just touching the highest points] "but mr. fox made a mistake about that. grandpaw hare was really ahead, of course, when he came down the homestretch, but when he got pretty close to the fence he made one more try to get mr. tortoise loose, and gave himself and his tail a great big swing, and mr. tortoise didn't let go quite quick enough, and off came my twenty-seventh great-grandfather's beautiful plumy tail, and away went mr. tortoise with it, clear over the top rail of the fence, and landed in a brier patch on the other side. "well, grandpaw hare was in such a state as you never heard of! he forgot all about the race at first, and just raved about his great loss, and borrowed mr. fox's handkerchief to tie up what was left, and said that he never in the world could show his face before folks again. "and mr. fox stopped laughing as soon as he could, and was really quite sorry for him, and even mr. tortoise looked through the fence, and asked him if he didn't think it could be spliced and be almost as good as ever. "he said he hadn't meant to commit any damage, and that he hoped mr. hare would live to forgive him, and that now there was no reason why my grandpaw shouldn't beat him in the next race. [illustration: away went mr. tortoise, clear over the top rail] "then my ancestor remembered about the race and forgot his other loss for a minute, and declared that mr. tortoise didn't win the race at all--that he couldn't have covered that much ground in a half a day alone, and he asked mr. fox if he was going to let that great straddle-bug ruin his reputation for speed and make him the laughing-stock of the big deep woods, besides all the other damage he had done. "then mr. fox scratched his head, and thought about it, and said he didn't see how he could help giving the race to mr. tortoise, for it was to be the first one across the fence, and that mr. tortoise was certainly the first one across, and that he'd gone over the top rail in style. "well, that made grandpaw hare madder than ever. he didn't say another word, but just picked up his property that mr. tortoise handed him through the fence, and set out for home by a back way, studying what he ought to do to keep everybody from laughing at him, and thinking that if he didn't do something he'd have to leave the country or drown himself, for he had always been so proud that if people laughed at him he knew he could never show his face again. "and that," said mr. rabbit, "is the true story of that old race between the hare and the tortoise, and of how the first rabbit came to lose his tail. i've never told it before, and none of my family ever did; but so many stories have been told about the way those things happened that we might just as well have this one, which is the only true one so far as i know." [illustration: set out for home by a back way] then mr. rabbit lit his pipe and leaned back and smoked. mr. dog said it was a fine story, and he wished he could have seen that race, and mr. turtle looked as if he wanted to say something, and did open his mouth to say it, but mr. crow spoke up, and asked what happened after that to mr. rabbit's twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and how it was that the rest of the rabbits had short tails, too. then mr. rabbit said that that was another story, and mr. squirrel and mr. robin wanted him to tell it right away, but mr. crow said they'd better have supper now, and mr. 'possum thought that was a good plan, and mr. 'coon, too, and then they all hurried around to get up some sticks of wood from down-stairs, and to set the table, and everybody helped, so they could get through early and have a nice long evening. and all the time the snow was coming down outside and piling higher and higher, and they were being snowed in without knowing it, for it was getting too dark to see much when they tried again to look out the window through the gloom of the big deep woods. the fourth snowed-in story mr. jack rabbit continues his family history "did they have enough left for supper--enough for all the visitors, i mean?" asks the little lady the next evening, when the story teller is ready to go on with the history of the hollow tree. "oh yes, they had plenty for supper, and more, too. they had been getting ready a good while for just such a time as this, and had carried in a lot of food, and they had a good many nice things down in the store-room where the wood was, but they didn't need those yet. they just put on what they had left from their big dinner, and mr. crow stirred up a pan of hot biscuits by his best receipt, and they passed them back and forth across the table so much that mr. 'possum said they went like hot cakes, sure enough, and always took two when they came his way." and they talked a good deal about the stories that mr. 'coon and mr. rabbit had told them, and everybody thought how sly and smart mr. 'coon had been to fool mr. dog that way; and mr. 'coon said that, now he came to think it over, he supposed it was a pretty good trick, though it really hadn't seemed so specially great to him at the time. he said he didn't think it half as smart as mr. tortoise's trick on mr. rabbit's grandpaw hare, when he beat him in the foot-race and went over the fence first, taking mr. hare's tail with him. and then they wondered if that had all really happened as mr. rabbit had told it--all but mr. turtle, who just sat and smiled to himself and didn't say anything at all, except "please pass the biscuits," now and then, when he saw the plate being set down in front of mr. 'possum. then by-and-by they all got through and hurried up and cleared off the table, and lit their pipes, and went back to the fire, and pretty soon jack rabbit began to tell how the rest of the rabbits lost their tails "well," he said, "my twenty-seventh great-grandfather hare didn't go out again for several days. he put up a sign that said 'not at home,' on his door, and then tried a few experiments, to see what could be done. [illustration: tried to splice his property back in place] "he first tried to splice his property back into place, as mr. tortoise had told him he might, but that plan didn't work worth a cent. he never could get it spliced on straight, and if he did get it about right, it would lop over or sag down or something as soon as he moved, and when he looked at himself in the glass he made up his mind that he'd rather do without his nice plumy brush altogether than to go out into society with it in that condition. "so he gave it up and put on some nice all-healing ointment, and before long what there was left of it was all well, and a nice bunch of soft, white cottony fur had grown out over the scar, and grandpaw hare thought when he looked at himself in the glass that it was really quite becoming, though he knew the rest of his family would always be saying things about it, and besides they would laugh at him for letting mr. tortoise beat him in a foot-race. "sometimes, when there was nobody around, my grandfather would go out into the sun and light his pipe and lean up against a big stone, or maybe a stump, and think it over. [illustration: grandfather would light his pipe and think it over] "and one morning, as he sat there thinking, he made up his mind what he would do. mr. lion lived in the big deep woods in those days, and he was king. whenever anything happened among the deep woods people that they couldn't decide for themselves, they went to where king lion lived, in a house all by himself over by the big west hills, and he used to settle the question; and sometimes, when somebody that wasn't very old, and maybe was plump and tender, had done something that wasn't just right, king lion would look at him and growl and say it was too bad for any one so young to do such things, and especially for them to grow up and keep on doing them; so he would have him for breakfast, or maybe for dinner, and that would settle everything in the easiest and shortest way. "of course grandfather hare knew very well that mr. tortoise and mr. fox wouldn't go with him to king lion, for they would be afraid to, after what they had done, so he made up his mind to go alone and tell him the whole story, because he was as sure as anything that king lion would decide that he had really won the race, and would be his friend, which would make all the other deep woods people jealous and proud of him again, and perhaps make them wish they had nice bunches of white cottony fur in the place of long dragging tails that were always in the way. "and then some day he would show king lion where mr. fox and mr. tortoise lived. [illustration: set up his ears and went by, lickety-split] "my grandfather hare didn't stop a minute after he thought of that, but just set out for king lion's house over at the foot of the big west hills. he had to pass by mr. fox's house, and mr. fox called to him, but grandpaw hare just set up his ears as proud as could be and went by, lickety-split, without looking at mr. fox at all. "it was a good way to king lion's house, but grandpaw hare didn't waste any time, and he was there almost before he knew it. "when he got to king lion's door he hammered on the knocker, and when nobody came right away he thought maybe the king was out for a walk. but that wasn't so. king lion had been sick for two or three days, and he was still in bed, and had to get up and get something around him before he could let grandpaw in. "grandpaw hare had sat down on the steps to wait, when all at once the door opened behind him and he felt something grab him by the collar and swing him in and set him down hard on a seat, and then he saw it was king lion, and he didn't much like his looks. "'so it was you, was it, making that noise?' he said. 'well, i'm glad to see you, for i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast.' [illustration: "'glad to see you,' said king lion; 'i was just thinking about having a nice rabbit for breakfast'"] "then my twenty-seventh great-grandfather knew he'd made a mistake, coming to see king lion when he was feeling that way, and he had to think pretty quick to know what to say. but our family have always been pretty quick in their thoughts, and grandpaw hare spoke right up as polite as could be, and said he would do anything he could to find a nice young plump rabbit for king lion, and that he would even be proud to be a king's breakfast himself, only he wasn't so very young nor so very plump, and, besides, there was that old prophecy about the king and the cotton-tailed rabbit, which of course, he said, king lion must have heard about. "then king lion said that my twenty-seventh great-grandfather was plenty young enough and plenty plump enough, and that he'd never heard of any prophecy about a cotton-tailed rabbit, and that he'd never heard of a cotton-tailed rabbit, either. "then grandpaw hare just got up and turned around, and as he turned he said, as solemnly as he could: 'when the king eats a hare with a cotton tail, then the king's good health will fail.' "well, that scared the king a good deal, for he was just getting over one sick spell, and he was afraid if he had another right away he'd die sure. he sat down and asked grandpaw hare to tell him how he came to have a tail like that, and grandpaw told him, and it made the king laugh and laugh, until he got well, and he said it was the best joke he ever heard of, and that he'd have given some of the best ornaments off of his crown to have seen that race. "and the better king lion felt the hungrier he got, and when my grandfather hare asked him if he wouldn't decide the race in his favor, he just glared at him and said if he didn't get out of there and hunt him up a nice, young, plump, long-tailed rabbit, he'd eat him--cotton tail, prophecy, and all--for he didn't go much on prophecies anyway. "then grandpaw hare got right up and said, 'good-day' and backed out and made tracks for the rest of his family, and told them that king lion had just got up from a sick spell that had given him an appetite for long-tailed rabbits. he said that the king had sent him out to get one, and that king lion would most likely be along himself pretty soon. he said the sooner the rabbit family took pattern after the new cotton-tailed style the more apt they'd be to live to a green old age and have descendants. "well, that was a busy day in the big deep woods. the rabbit family got in line by a big smooth stump that they picked out for the purpose, and grandpaw attended to the job for them, and called out 'next!' as they marched by. he didn't have to wait, either, for they didn't know what minute king lion might come. mr. tortoise and mr. fox came along and stopped to see the job, and helped grandpaw now and then when his arm got tired, and by evening there was a pile of tails by that stump as big as king lion's house, and there never was such a call for the all-healing ointment as there was that night in the big deep woods. "and none of our family ever did have tails after that, for they never would grow any more, and all the little new rabbits just had bunches of cotton, too, and that has never changed to this day. "and when king lion heard how he'd been fooled by grandpaw hare with that foolish prophecy that he just made up right there, out of his head, he knew that everybody would laugh at him as much as he had laughed at mr. hare, and he moved out of the country and never came back, and there's never been a king in the big deep woods since, so my twenty-seventh great-grandfather did some good, after all. "and that," said mr. rabbit, "is the whole story of the hare and the tortoise and how the rabbit family lost their tails. it's never been told outside of our family before, but it's true, for it's been handed down, word for word, and if mr. fox or mr. tortoise were alive now they would say so." mr. rabbit filled his pipe and lit it, and mr. crow was just about to make some remarks, when mr. turtle cleared his throat and said: "the story that mr. rabbit has been telling is all true, every word of it--i was there." then all the deep woods people took their pipes out of their mouths and just looked at mr. turtle with their mouths wide open, and when they could say anything at all, they said: "_you were there!_" you see, they could never get used to the notion of mr. turtle's being so old--as old as their twenty-seventh great-grandfathers would have been, if they had lived. "yes," said mr. turtle, "and it all comes back to me as plain as day. it happened two hundred and fifty-eight years ago last june. they used to call us the tortoise family then, and i was a young fellow of sixty-seven and fond of a joke. but i was surprised when i went sailing over that fence, and i didn't mean to carry off mr. hare's tail. dear me, how time passes! i'm three hundred and twenty-five now, though i don't feel it." then they all looked at mr. turtle again, for though they believed he was old, and might possibly have been there, they thought it pretty strange that he could be the very mr. tortoise who had won the race. mr. 'possum said, pretty soon, that when anybody said a thing like that, there ought to be some way to prove it. then mr. turtle got up and began taking off his coat, and all the others began to get out of the way, for they didn't know what was going to happen to mr. 'possum, and they wanted to be safe; and mr. 'possum rolled under the table, and said that he didn't mean anything--that he loved mr. turtle, and that mr. turtle hadn't understood the way he meant it at all. but mr. turtle wasn't the least bit mad. he just laid off his coat, quietly, and unbuttoned his shirt collar, and told mr. 'coon and mr. crow to look on the back of his shell. and then mr. dog held a candle, and they all looked, one after another, and there, sure enough, carved right in mr. turtle's shell, were the words: beat mr. hare foot-race june , "that," said mr. turtle, "was my greatest joke, and i had it carved on my shell." and all the rest of the forest people said that a thing like that was worth carving on anybody's shell that had one, and when mr. turtle put on his coat they gave him the best seat by the fire, and sat and looked at him and asked questions about it, and finally all went to sleep in their chairs, while the fire burned low and the soft snow was banking up deeper and deeper, outside, in the dark. the "snowed-in" literary club mr. rabbit proposes something to pass the time "did the hollow tree people and their company sleep in their chairs all night?" asks the little lady, as soon as she has finished her supper. "and were they snowed in when they woke up next morning?" the story teller is not quite ready to answer. he has to fill his pipe first, and puff a little and look into the fire before he sits down, and the little lady climbs into her place. the little lady knows the story teller, and waits. when he begins to rock a little she knows he has remembered, and then pretty soon he tells her about the "snowed-in" literary club. well, the hollow tree people went to sleep there by the fire and they stayed asleep a long while, for they were tired with all the good times and all the good things to eat they had been having. and when they woke up once, they thought it was still night, for it was dark, though they thought it must be about morning, because the fire was nearly out, and mr. 'possum said if there was anybody who wasn't too stiff he wished they'd put on a stick of wood, as he was frozen so hard that he knew if he tried to move he'd break. so mr. turtle, who had been drawn up mostly into his shell, and mr. dog, who was used to getting up at all hours of the night, stretched and yawned and crept down after some sticks and dry pieces and built up a good fire, and pretty soon they were all asleep again, as sound as ever. and when they woke up next time it was still just as dark, and the fire had gone almost out again, and mr. 'coon and mr. crow, too, said they didn't understand it, at all, for a fire like that would generally keep all night and all day too, and here two fires had burned out and it was still as dark as ever. then mr. crow lit a splinter and looked at the clock, and said he must have forgotten to wind it, or maybe it was because it was so cold, as it had stopped a little after twelve, and mr. 'possum said that from the way he felt it was no wonder the clock had stopped, for if he could tell anything by his feelings it must be at least day after to-morrow. he said he felt so empty that every time he breathed he could hear the wind whistle through his ribs. that made mr. rabbit think of something, and he stepped over to the window. then he pushed it up a little, and put out his hand. but he didn't put it out far, for it went right into something soft and cold. mr. rabbit came over to where mr. crow was poking up the fire, bringing some of the stuff with him. "now," he said, "you can all see what's the matter. we're snowed in. the snow is up over the window, and that's why it's so dark. it may be up over the top of the tree, and we may have been asleep here for a week, for all we know." then they all gathered around to look at the snow, and went to the window and got some more, and tried to tell whether it was day or night, and mr. crow and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum ran up-stairs to their rooms, and called back that it was day, for the snow hadn't come quite up to the tops of their windows. and it was day, sure enough, and quite late in the afternoon at that, but they couldn't tell just what day it was, or whether they had slept one night, or two nights, or even longer. well, of course the first thing was to get something to eat and a big fire going, and even mr. 'possum scrambled around and helped carry wood, so he could get warm quicker. they still had a good deal to eat in the hollow tree, and they were not much worried. mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon remembered another time they were snowed in, when mr. crow had fed them on johnnie cake and gravy, and they thought that if everything else gave out it would be great fun to live like that again. when they had finished eating breakfast, or dinner, or whatever it was, for it was nearer supper-time than anything else, they began to think of things to do to amuse themselves, and they first thought they'd have some more stories, like mr. rabbit's. but mr. rabbit, who is quite literary, and a good poet, said it would be better to make it a kind of a club, and each have a poem, or a story, or a song; or if anybody couldn't do any of those he must dance a jig. then they all remembered a poetry club that mr. rabbit had got up once and how nice it was, and they all said that was just the thing, and they got around the table and began to work away at whatever they were going to do for the "snowed-in" literary club. [illustration: got around the table and began to work] mr. rabbit wasn't very long at his piece, and pretty soon he jumped up and said he was through, and mr. 'possum said that if that was so, he might go down and bring up some wood and warm up the brains of the rest of them. so mr. rabbit stirred up the fire, and sat down and looked into it, and read over his poem to himself and changed a word here and there, and thought how nice it was; and by-and-by mr. dog said he was through, and mr. robin said he was through, too. then mr. rabbit said he thought that would be more than enough for one evening anyway, and that the others might finish their pieces to-morrow and have them ready for the next evening. so then they all gathered around the fire again, and everybody said that as mr. rabbit had thought of the club first, he must be the first to read his piece. mr. rabbit said he was sure it would be more modest for some one else to read first, but that he was willing to start things going if they wanted him to. then he stood up, and turned a little to the light, and took a nice position, and read his poem, which was called snowed in _by j. rabbit_ oh, the snow lies white in the woods to-night-- the snow lies soft and deep; and under the snow, i know, oh, ho! the flowers of the summer sleep. the flowers of the summer sleep, i know, snowed in like you and me-- under the sheltering leaves, oh, ho, as snug and as warm as we-- as snug and as warm from the winter storm as we of the hollow tree. snowed in are we in the hollow tree, and as snug and as warm as they we be-- snowed in, snowed in, are we, are we, and as snug as can be in the hollow tree, the wonderful hollow tree. oh, the snow lies cold on wood and wold, but never a bit comes in, as we smoke and eat, and warm our feet, and sit by the fire and spin: and what care we for the winter gales, and what care we for the snow-- as we sit by the fire and spin our tales and think of the things we know? as we spin our tales in the winter gales and wait for the snow to go? oh, the winds blow high and the winds blow low, but what care we for the wind and snow, spinning our tales of the long ago as snug as snug can be? for never a bit comes in, comes in, as we sit by the fire and spin, and spin the tales we know, of the long ago, in the wonderful hollow tree. mr. rabbit sat down then, and of course everybody spoke up as soon as they could get their breath and said how nice it was, and how mr. rabbit always expressed himself better in poetry than anybody else could in prose, and how the words and rhymes just seemed to flow along as if he were reeling it off of a spinning-wheel and could keep it up all day. and mr. rabbit smiled and said he supposed it came natural, and that sometimes it was harder to stop than it was to start, and that he _could_ keep it up all day as easy as not. then mr. 'possum said he'd been afraid that was what _would_ happen, and that if mr. rabbit hadn't stopped pretty soon that he--mr. 'possum, of course--would have been so tangled up in his mind that somebody would have had to come and undo the knot. then he said he wanted to ask some questions. he said he wanted to know what "wold" meant, and also what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails. he said he hadn't noticed that any of them were spinning their tails, and that he couldn't do it if he tried. he said that he could curl his tail and hang from a limb or a peg by it, and he had found it a good way to go to sleep when things were on his mind, and that he generally had better dreams when he slept that way. [illustration: mr. 'possum wanted to know what mr. rabbit meant by spinning their tails] he said that of course mr. rabbit's poem had been about tails of the long ago, and he supposed that he meant the ones which his family had lost about three hundred years ago, according to mr. turtle, but that he didn't believe they ever could spin them much, or that mr. rabbit could spin what he had left. mr. 'possum was going on to say a good deal more on the subject, but mr. rabbit interrupted him. he said he didn't suppose there was anybody else in the world whose food seemed to do him so little good as mr. 'possum's, and that very likely it was owing to the habit he had of sleeping with his head hanging down in that foolish way. he said he had never heard of anybody who ate so much and knew so little. of course, he said, everybody might not know what "wold" meant, as it wasn't used much except by poets who used the best words, but that it meant some kind of a field, and it was better for winter use, as it rhymed with "cold" and was nearly always used that way. as for mr. 'possum's other remark, he said he couldn't imagine how anybody would suppose that the tales he meant were those other tails which were made to wave or wag or flirt or hang from limbs by, instead of being stories to be told or written, just as the deep woods people were telling and writing them now. he said there was an old expression about having a peg to hang a tale on, and that it was most likely gotten up by one of mr. 'possum's ancestors or somebody who knew as little about such things as mr. 'possum, and that another old expression which said "thereby hangs a tale" was just like it, because the kind of tales he meant didn't hang, but were always told or written, while the other kind always did hang, and were never told or written, but were only sometimes told or written about, and it made him feel sad, he said, to have to explain his poem in that simple way. then mr. 'possum said that he was sorry mr. rabbit felt that way, because he didn't feel at all that way himself, and had only been trying to discuss mr. rabbit's nice poem. he said that of course mr. rabbit couldn't be expected to know much about tails, never having had a real one himself, and would be likely to get mixed up when he tried to write on the subject. he said he wouldn't mention such things again, and that he was sorry and hoped that mr. rabbit would forgive him. and mr. rabbit said that he was sorry, too--sorry for mr. 'possum--and that he thought whoever was ready had better read the next piece. then mr. dog said that he supposed that he was as ready as he'd ever be, and that he'd like to read his and get it off his mind, so he wouldn't be so nervous and could enjoy listening to the others. he wasn't used to such things, he said, and couldn't be original like mr. rabbit, but he knew a story that was told among the fowls in mr. man's barn-yard, and that he had tried to write it in a simple way that even mr. 'possum would understand. his story was about a duck--a young and foolish duck--who got into trouble, and mr. dog said he had made a few sketches to go with it, and that they could be handed around while he was reading. now he would begin, he said, and the name of his story was erastus, the robber duck _by mr. dog, with sketches_ once upon a time there was a foolish young duck named erastus (called 'rastus, for short). he was an only child, and lived with his mother in a small house on the bank of a pond at the foot of the farm-yard. erastus thought himself a brave duck; he would chase his shadow, and was not afraid of quite a large worm. as he grew older he did not tell his mother everything. once he slipped away, and went swimming alone. then a worm larger than any he had ever seen came up out of the water, and would have swallowed erastus if he had not reached the shore just in time, and gone screaming to his mother. his mother said the great worm was a water-snake, and she told erastus snake-stories which gave him bad dreams. [illustration: mr. dog said he had made a few sketches] erastus grew quite fast, and soon thought he was nearly grown up. once he tried to smoke with some other young ducks behind the barn. it made erastus sick, and his mother found it out. she gave erastus some unpleasant medicine, and made him stay in bed a week. erastus decided that he would run away. while his mother was taking her morning bath he packed his things in a little valise she had given him for christmas. then he slipped out the back door and made for the woods as fast as he could go. he had made up his mind to be a robber, and make a great deal of money by taking it away from other people. he had begun by taking a small toy pistol which belonged to mr. man's little boy. he wore it at his side. his mother had read to him about robbers. erastus also had on his nice new coat and pretty vest. he did not rob anybody that day. there was nothing in the woods but trees and vines. erastus tripped over the vines and hurt himself, and lost the toy pistol. then it came night, and he was very lonesome. for the first time in his life erastus missed his mother. there was a nice full moon, but erastus did not care for it. some of the black shadows about him looked as if they might be live things. by-and-by he heard a noise near him. erastus the robber duck started to run; but he was lost, and did not know which way to go. all at once he was face to face with some large animal. it wore a long cape and a mask. it also carried a real pistol which it pointed at erastus and told him to hold up his wings. erastus the robber duck held up his wings as high as possible, and tried to get them higher. it did not seem to erastus that he could hold them up high enough. his mother had read to him about robbers. then the robber took all the things that erastus had in his pockets. he took his new knife and his little watch; also the nice bag which his mother had given him for christmas. erastus kept his wings up a good while after the robber had gone. he was afraid the robber had not gone far enough. when he put them down they were cramped and sore. then he heard something again, and thought it was the robber coming back after his clothes. erastus fled with great speed, taking off his garments as he ran. at last he reached the edge of the wood, not far from where he lived. it was just morning, and his mother saw him coming. she looked sad, and embraced him. it was the first time erastus had been out all night. erastus was not allowed to go swimming or even to leave the yard for a long time. whenever he remembered that night in the woods he shivered, and his mother thought he had a chill. then she would put him to bed and give him some of the unpleasant medicine. erastus did not tell his mother _all_ that had happened that night for a good while. he was ashamed to do so. but one day when he seemed quite sick and his mother was frightened, he broke down and told her all about it. then his mother forgave him, and he got well right away. after that erastus behaved, and grew to be the best and largest duck in mr. man's farm-yard. * * * * * while mr. dog had been reading his story the hollow tree people--the 'coon and the 'possum and the old black crow--had been leaning forward and almost holding their breath, and mr. dog felt a good deal flattered when he noticed how interested they were. when he sat down he saw that mr. 'possum's mouth was open and his tongue fairly hanging out with being so excited. [illustration: mr. 'possum said it might be a good enough story, but it couldn't be true] then before any of the others could say a word, mr. 'possum said that it might be a good enough story, but that it couldn't be true. he said that he wasn't a judge of stories, but that he was a judge of ducks--young ducks, or old either--and that no young duck could pass the night in the big deep woods and get home at sunrise or any other time, unless all the other animals were snowed in or locked up in a menagerie, and that the animal that had met erastus might have robbed him, of course, but he would have eaten him first, and then carried off what was left, unless, of course, that robber was a rabbit, and he said that he didn't believe any rabbit would have spunk enough to be in that business. mr. rabbit was about to say something just then, but mr. crow and mr. 'coon both interrupted and said they thought mr. 'possum was right for once, except about mr. rabbit, who was plenty brave enough, but too much of a gentleman to be out robbing people at night when he could be at home in bed asleep. then mr. dog said: "i don't know whether the story is true or not. i wrote it down as i heard it among mr. man's fowls, and i know the duck that they still call erastus, and he's the finest, fattest--" but mr. dog didn't get any further. for the hollow tree people broke in and said, all together: "oh, take us to see him, mr. dog! or perhaps you could bring him to see us. invite him to spend an evening with us in the hollow tree. tell him we will have him for dinner and invite our friends. oh, do, mr. dog!" but mr. dog knew what they meant by having him for dinner, and he said he guessed mr. man would not be willing to have erastus go out on an invitation like that, and that if erastus came, mr. man might take a notion to visit the hollow tree himself. then the hollow tree people all said, "oh, never mind about erastus! he's probably old and disagreeable anyway. we don't think we would care for him. but it was a nice story--very nice, indeed." and pretty soon mr. dog said he'd been thinking about the robber animal, too, and had made up his mind that it might have been one of mr. cat's family--for mr. man's little boy and girl had a book with a nice poem in it about a robber cat, and a robber dog, too, though he didn't think that the dog could have been any of _his_ family. mr. cat, he said, would not be likely to care for erastus, feathers and all, that way, and no doubt it really was mr. cat who robbed him. mr. dog said that he had once heard of a mr. cat who wanted to be king--perhaps after mr. lion had gone out of the king business, and that there was an old poem about it that mr. dog's mother used to sing to him, but he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. he said there were a good many things in it he didn't suppose the hollow tree people would understand because it was about a different kind of a country--where his mother had been born--but that if they really would like to hear it he would try to remember it for them, as it would be something different from anything they had been used to. then the hollow tree people and their friends all said how glad they would be to hear it, for they always liked to hear about new things and new parts of the country; so mr. dog said that if some of the others would read or sing or dance their jigs first, perhaps it would come to him and he would sing it for them by and by. then mr. robin spoke up and said that he thought mr. dog's story had a good moral in it, and he said that _his_ story (mr. robin's, of course) was that kind of a story, too. perhaps he'd better tell it now, he said, while their minds were running that way, though as for mr. 'possum's mind it seemed to be more on how good erastus might be cooked than how good he had become in his behavior. he was sorry, he said, that his story didn't have any ducks in it, young or old, but that perhaps mr. 'possum and the others would be willing to wait for the nice pair of cooked ones now hanging in mr. crow's pantry, to be served at the end of the literary exercises. but mr. 'possum said "no," he wasn't willing to wait any longer--that mr. dog's story and the mention of those nice cooked fowls was more than he could bear, and that if it was all the same to mr. robin and the others he voted to have supper first, and then he'd be better able to stand a strictly moral story on a full stomach. mr. crow and mr. 'coon said that was a good idea, and mr. rabbit said he thought they'd better postpone mr. robin's story until the next evening, as mr. 'possum had taken up so much time with his arguments that he must be hungrier than usual, and if he put in as much more time eating, it would be morning before they were ready to go on with the literary programme. then they all looked at the clock and saw that it really was getting late, though that was the only way they could tell, for the snow covered all the windows and made no difference between day and night in the hollow tree. the "snowed-in" literary club--part ii mr. rabbit starts some new amusements it was still dark in the hollow tree when the deep woods people woke up next morning, but they knew what was the matter now, and could tell by the clock and the fire that it was day outside, even before mr. 'possum ran up to his room and looked out the window and came back shivering, because he said the snow was blowing and drifting and some had drifted in around his windows and made his room as cold as all outdoors. he said he was willing to stay by the fire while this spell lasted, and take such exercise as he needed by moving his chair around to the table when he wanted to eat. mr. 'coon said that mr. 'possum might exercise himself on a little wood for the cook-stove in mr. crow's kitchen if he wanted any breakfast, and that if this spell kept up long enough, they wouldn't have anything left but exercise to keep them alive. so mr. 'possum went down-stairs after an armful of stove-wood, and he stayed a good while, though they didn't notice it at the time. then they all helped with the breakfast, and after breakfast they pushed back all the things and played "blind man's buff," for mr. rabbit said that even if moving his chair from the fire to the table and back again was enough exercise for mr. 'possum, it wasn't enough for _him_, and the others said so, too. [illustration: so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be "it"] so then mr. rabbit said they must choose who would be "it" first, and they all stood in a row and mr. rabbit said: "hi, ho, hickory dee-- one for you and one for me; one for the ones you try to find, and one for the one that wears the blind," which was a rigmarole mr. rabbit had made up himself to use in games where somebody had to be "it," and mr. rabbit said it around and around the circle on the different ones--one word for each one--until he came to the word "blind" and that was mr. 'possum, who had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them, until he caught mr. turtle, who had to be "it" quite often, because he couldn't get out of the way as well as the others. and mr. 'possum was "it" a good deal, too, and mr. 'coon, and all the rest, though mr. robin was "it" less than anybody, because he was so little and spry that he could get out of the way. then when they were tired of "blind man's buff" they played "pussy wants a corner" and "forfeits," and mr. 'possum had to make a speech to redeem his forfeit, and he began: "ladies and gentlemen" (though there were no ladies present)--"i am pleased to see you all here this evening" (though it wasn't evening) "looking so well dressed and well fed. it is better to be well fed than well dressed. it is better to be well dressed than not dressed at all. it is better to be not dressed at all than not fed at all. ladies and gentlemen, i thank you for your kind attention and applause"--though they hadn't applauded yet, but they did, right away, and said it was a good speech, and mr. crow said it reminded him that it was about dinner-time, and that he would need some more wood. so mr. 'possum got right up to get the stove-wood again, which everybody thought was very good of mr. 'possum, who wasn't usually so spry and willing. [illustration: mr. 'possum had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them] then in the afternoon they had games again, but nice quiet games, for they were all glad to sit down, and they played "button! button! who's got the button?" and nobody could tell when mr. 'possum had the button, for his face didn't show it, because he was nearly always looking straight into the fire, and seemed to be thinking about something away off. and when the fire got low, he always jumped up and offered to go down into the store-room after the wood, and they all said how willing and spry mr. 'possum was getting all at once, and when he stayed a good while down-stairs they didn't think anything about it--not at the time--or if they did they only thought he was picking out the best pieces to burn. they played "drop the handkerchief," too, and when they got through mr. rabbit performed some tricks with the handkerchief and the button that made even mr. 'possum pay attention because they were so wonderful. there was one trick especially that mr. rabbit did a great many times because they liked it so much, and were so anxious to guess how it was done. mr. rabbit told them it was a trick that had come down to him from his thirty-second great-grandfather, and must never be told to any one. it was a trick where he laid the button in the centre of the handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them down each time so that they could see that the button was still there, and he would let them press on it, too, to prove it, and then when he would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there would be no button at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head, or in mr. 'possum's pocket, or some place like that. but one time, when mr. rabbit had done it over and over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief by the corners nearest him, and there was the button sticking fast, right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to mr. rabbit, and by some mistake mr. rabbit had turned the button upside down! then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and mr. rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family, and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all promised, and mr. rabbit told them the adage, which was: "when beeswax grows on the button-tree, no one knows what the weather'll be." [illustration: would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on mr. crow's bald head] "that," said mr. rabbit, "is a very old adage. i don't know what it means exactly, but i'm sure it means something, because old adages always do mean something, though often nobody can find out just what it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages. there are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got my ancestors out of trouble. when we didn't have an old one to fit the trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything special, and could be used almost anywhere." then the deep woods people all said there was never anybody who knew so much and could do so many things as mr. jack rabbit, and how proud they all were to have him in their midst, and mr. rabbit showed them how to do all the tricks he knew, and they all practised them and tried them on each other until mr. crow said he must look after the supper, and mr. 'possum ran right off after an armful of stove-wood, and everybody helped with everything there was to do, for they were having such a good time and were so hungry. and after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked a little before anybody said anything, until by-and-by mr. rabbit said that they would go on now with the literary club, and that mr. robin might read the story he had mentioned the night before. so mr. robin got up, and stood on a chair, and made a nice bow. he said it was not really his own story he had written, but one that his grandmother used to tell him sometimes, though he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. then mr. rabbit spoke up and said that that didn't matter, that of course everybody couldn't be original, and that the story itself was the main thing and the way you told it. he said if mr. robin would go right on with the story now it would save time. so then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes--all except mr. robin, who began right off to read his story: the discontented fox mr. robin tells how a fox learned a good lesson by taking a long journey once upon a time there was a fox who lived at the foot of a hill and had a _nice garden_. one morning when he began to hoe in it he got tired, and the sun was _very hot_. then the fox didn't like to hoe any more, and made up his mind that it wasn't very pleasant to have a garden, anyway. so then he started out to travel and find _pleasant things_. he put on his best clothes, and the first house he came to belonged to a rabbit who kept bees. and the rabbit showed the fox his bees and how to take out the honey. and the fox said, "what _pleasant work_!" and wanted to take out honey too. but when he did there was a bee on the honey, and it stung the fox on the nose. and that hurt the fox, and his nose began to swell up, and he said: "this is not pleasant work _at all_!" and of course it wasn't--not for _him_--though the rabbit seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox travelled on, and the next house he came to belonged to a crow who made pies. and the fox looked at him awhile and said, "what _pleasant work_!" and the crow let the fox help him, and when the fox went to take a pie out of the oven he burnt his fingers _quite badly_. then he said, "no, it is _not_ pleasant work--not for _me_!" and that was true, though the crow seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox went on again, and the next house he came to belonged to a 'coon who milked cows. and the fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he said: "what pleasant work that _is_! let _me_ milk." so the 'coon let the fox milk, and the cow put her foot in the milk-pail and upset it _all over_ the fox's nice _new clothes_. and the fox was mad, and said: "this work is not in the _least_ pleasant!" and he _hurried away_, though the 'coon seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. and the next house the fox came to belonged to a cat who played the fiddle. and the fox listened awhile and said: "what pleasant work that _must be_!" and he borrowed the cat's fiddle. but when he started down the road playing, a man ran around the corner and shot a loud gun at him, and that was not pleasant, _either_, though the cat seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_. so the fox kept on travelling and _doing_ things that he thought would be _pleasant_, but that did not turn out to _be_ pleasant--not for _him_--until by-and-by he had travelled _clear around the world_ and had come up on the other side, _back_ to his _own garden_ again. and his garden was just the same as he had left it, only the things had grown bigger, and there were _some weeds_. and the fox jumped over the fence and commenced to _hoe_ the _weeds_, and pretty soon he said, "why, this is _pleasant_!" then he hoed some more, and said, "why, what pleasant work _this is_!" so he kept on hoeing and finding it pleasant until by-and-by the weeds were _all gone_, and the _rabbit_ and the _crow_ and the _cat_ and the _'coon_ came and traded him honey and pies and milk and music for vegetables, because he had the best garden in the world. and he _has yet_! * * * * * when mr. robin got through and sat down, mr. squirrel spoke up and said it was a good story because it had a moral lesson in it and taught folks to like the things they knew best how to do, and mr. 'possum said yes, that might be so, but that the story couldn't be true, because none of those animals would have enjoyed seeing that fox leave them, but would have persuaded him to stay and help them, and would have taught him to do most of the work. then mr. robin spoke up and said that mr. 'possum thought everybody was like himself, and that anyway mr. 'possum didn't need the lesson in that story, for he already liked to do the things he could do best, which were to eat and sleep and let other people do the work, though of course he had been very good about getting the wood, lately, which certainly was unusual. then mr. 'possum said he didn't see why mr. robin should speak in that cross way when he had only meant to be kind and show him the mistake in his story, so he could fix it right. and mr. rabbit said that as mr. 'possum seemed to know so much how stories and poems ought to be written, perhaps he'd show now what he could do in that line himself. mr. 'possum said he hadn't written anything because it was too much trouble, but that he would tell them a story if they would like to hear it--something that had really happened, because he had been there, and was old enough to remember. but before he began mr. robin said that as they had not cared much about his story he would like to recite a few lines he had thought of, which would perhaps explain how he felt, and all the animals said, "of course, go right on," and mr. robin bowed and recited a little poem he had made, called only me _by c. robin_ how came a little bird like me a place in this fine group to win? my mind is small--it has to be-- the little place i keep it in. how came a little bird like me to be here in the hollow tree? when all the others know so much, and are so strong and gifted too, how can i dare to speak of such as i can know, and think, and do? how can a little bird like me belong here in the hollow tree? [illustration: mr. 'possum said he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story] well, when mr. robin finished that, all the others spoke right up and said that mr. robin must never write anything so sad as that again. they said his story was just as good as it could be, and that mr. robin was one of the smartest ones there; and mr. 'possum burst into tears, and said that he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the story, and that some time, when they were all alone, mr. robin must tell it to him again, and he would try to have sense enough to understand it. then he ran over to mr. robin, and was going to embrace him and weep on his shoulder, and would very likely have mashed him if mr. turtle hadn't dragged him back to his seat and told him that he had done damage enough to people's feelings without killing anybody, and the best thing he could do now would be to go on with a story of his own if he had any. but mr. 'possum said he was too sleepy now, so mr. dog sang the poem which he had promised the evening before because, he said, singing would be a nice thing to go to sleep on. mr. dog's song was called the cat who would be king there was cat who kept a store, with other cats for customers. his milk and mice all packed in ice-- his catnip all in canisters. fresh milk he furnished every day-- two times a day and sometimes three-- and so this cat grew rich and fat and proud as any cat could be. but though so fat and rich he grew he was not satisfied at all-- at last quoth he, "a king i'll be of other cats both great and small." [illustration: and so this cat crew rich and fat] [illustration] then hied he to the tinner cat, who made for him a tinsel crown, and on the street, a king complete, he soon went marching up and down. [illustration] now, many cats came out to see, and some were filled with awe at him; while some, alack, behind his back did laugh and point a paw at him. [illustration: his clerks] mice, milk, and catnip did he scorn; he went to business less and less-- and everywhere he wore an air of arrogance and haughtiness. his clerks ate catnip all day long-- they spent much time in idle play; they left the mice from off the ice-- they trusted cats who could not pay. [illustration: a solemn look was in his face] while happy in his tin-shop crown each day the king went marching out, elate because he thought he was the kind of king you read about. but lo, one day, he strolled too far, and in a dim and dismal place a cat he met, quite small, and yet a solemn look was in his face. one fiery eye this feline wore-- a waif he was of low degree-- no gaudy dress did he possess, nor yet a handsome cat was he. but lo, he smote that spurious king and stripped him of his tinsel crown, then like the wind full close behind he chased his highness into town. with cheers his subjects saw him come. he did not pause--he did not stop, but straight ahead he wildly fled till he was safe within his shop. he caught his breath and gazed about-- a sorry sight did he behold: no catnip there or watchful care-- no mice and milk and joy of old. he heaved a sigh and dropped a tear-- he sent those idle clerks away-- quoth he, "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay." with care once more he runs his store, his catnip all in canisters-- his milk and mice all packed in ice, and humbly serves his customers. [illustration: quoth he, "my pride is satisfied; this kingdom business does not pay"] mr. 'possum's great story mr. 'possum tells the strange adventures of the 'possum family, to the surprise of his friends "now this," said the story teller, "is the story that mr. 'possum told the 'snowed-in' literary club in the hollow tree. it must be a true story, because mr. 'possum said so, and, besides, anybody that knows mr. 'possum would know that he could never in the world have made it up out of his head." the little lady doesn't quite like that. "but mr. 'possum is smart," she says. "he knows ever so much." "oh yes, of course, and that's why he never _has_ to make up things. he just tells what he knows, and this time he told how uncle silas and aunt melissy moved "you may remember," he said, "my telling you once about uncle silas and aunt melissy lovejoy, who lived in a nice place just beyond the wide paw-paw hollows, and how uncle silas once visited cousin glenwood in town and came home all dressed up, leading a game chicken, and with a bag of shinny-sticks, and a young man to wait on him; and how aunt melissy--instead of being pleased, as uncle silas thought she would be--got mad when she saw him, and made him and the young man take off all their nice clothes and go to work in the garden, and kept them at it with that bag of shinny-sticks until fall.[b] "well, this story is about them, too. i went to live with them soon after that, because i lost both of my parents one night when mr. man was hunting in the black bottoms for something to put in a pan with some sweet potatoes he had raised that year, and i suppose i would have been used with sweet potatoes too if i hadn't come away from there pretty lively instead of trying our old playing-dead trick on mr. man and his friends. "i thought right away that mr. man might know the trick, so i didn't wait to try it myself, but took out for the wide paw-paw hollows, to visit uncle silas lovejoy, who was an uncle on my mother's side, and aunt melissy and my little cousins; and they all seemed glad to see me, especially my little cousins, until they found they had to give me some of their things and most of their food, because i was young and growing, besides being quite sad about my folks, and so, of course, had to eat a good deal to keep well and from taking my loss too hard. "but by-and-by uncle lovejoy said that he didn't believe that he and the hired man--who was the same one he had brought home to wait on him when he came from town--to be his valet, he said--though he got to be a hired man right after aunt melissy met him and got hold of the shinny-sticks--aunt melissy being a spry, stirring person who liked to see people busy. i remember how she used to keep me and my little cousins busy until sometimes i wished i had stayed with my folks and put up with the sweet potatoes and let uncle silas and his family alone." mr. 'possum stopped to light his pipe, and mr. rabbit said that he supposed, of course, mr. 'possum knew his story and how to tell it, but that if he ever intended to finish what uncle lovejoy had said about himself and the hired man he wished he'd get at it pretty soon. mr. 'possum said of course he meant to, as soon as he could get his breath, and think a minute. "well, then," he said, "uncle silas told aunt melissy that he didn't believe he and the hired man could raise and catch enough for the family since i had come to stay with them, and he thought they had better move farther west to a place where the land was better and where mr. man's chickens were not kept up in such close, unhealthy places, but were allowed to roost out in the open air, on the fences and in the trees. he said he didn't think their house was quite stylish enough either, which he knew would strike aunt melissy, who was a glenwood, and primpy, and fond of the best things. "so then we began to pack up right away, and uncle silas and aunt melissy quarrelled a good deal about what was worth taking and what wasn't, and they took turns scolding the hired man about a good many things he didn't do and almost all of the things he did do, and my little cousins and i had a fine time running through the empty rooms and playing with things we had never seen before, but we had to keep out of aunt melissy's reach if we wanted to enjoy it much. "well, by-and-by we were all packed up and ready to start. we had everything in bundles or tied together, and aunt melissy had arranged a big bundle for uncle silas to carry, and several things to tie and hang about on his person in different places, and she had fixed up the hired man too, besides some bundles for me and my little cousins. "aunt melissy said she would take charge of the lunch-basket and lead the way, and she was all dressed up and carried an umbrella, and didn't look much as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd. [illustration: aunt melissy had arranged a bundle for uncle silas, and she had fixed up the hired man too] "it was pretty early when we started, for it was getting dangerous to camp out in that section, and we wanted to get as far as we could the first day, though we didn't any of us have any idea then how long a trip we _would_ make that day, nor of the way we were going to make it. nobody could guess a guess like that, even if he was the best guesser in the world and made his living that way." mr. 'possum stopped to light his pipe again, and said that if anybody wanted a chance to guess how far they went that first day and how they travelled, they could guess now. but the hollow tree people said they didn't want to guess, and they did want mr. 'possum to go ahead and tell them about it. "well," said mr. 'possum, "we travelled fifty miles that first day, and we travelled it in less than two hours." "fifty miles in two hours!" said all the hollow tree people. and jack rabbit said: "why, a menagerie like that couldn't travel fifty miles in two years!" "but we did, though," said mr. 'possum; "we travelled it in a balloon." "in a balloon!" "well, not exactly in a balloon, but _with_ a balloon. it happened just as i'm going to tell you. [illustration: didn't look as if she belonged to the rest of our crowd] "we went along pretty well until we got to the wide grass lands, though aunt melissy scolded uncle silas a good deal because he got behind and didn't stand up in a nice stylish way with all the things he had to carry, and she used her umbrella once on the hired man because he dropped the clock. "when we got out to the wide grass lands there was a high east wind blowing, getting ready for a storm, and when we got on top of a little grassy hill close to the wide blue water it blew uncle silas and the hired man so they could hardly stand up, and it turned aunt melissy's umbrella wrong side out, which made her mad, and she said that it was uncle silas's fault and mine, and that she had never wanted to move anyway. "but just then one of my little cousins looked up in the sky and said, 'oh, look at that funny bird!' and we all looked up, and there was a great big long bag of a thing coming right toward us, not very high up, and uncle silas spoke up and said 'that's a balloon,' for uncle silas had seen one in town when he was there visiting cousin glenwood, and the hired man, too. then while we were all standing there watching it, we saw that there was a long rope that hung from the balloon most to the ground, and that it had something tied to the end of it (a big iron thing with a lot of hooks on it), and that it was swooping down straight toward us. "uncle silas called out as loud as he could, 'that's the anchor! look out!' but it was too late to look out, for it was coming as fast as the wind blew the balloon, and uncle silas and the hired man being loaded with the things couldn't move very quick, and the rest of us were too scared to know which way to jump, and down came that thing right among us, and i saw it catch among uncle silas's furniture and the hired man's, and i heard uncle silas say, 'grab hold, all of you!' and we all did, some one way and some another, and away we went. "well, it was certainly very curious how we all were lucky enough to get hold of that anchor, with all our bundles and things; but of course we could do it better than if we had not been given those nice useful tails which belong to our family. i had hold that way, and some of the others did, too. uncle silas didn't need to hold on at all, for some of the furniture was tied to him, and he just sat back in a chair that was hung on behind and took it easy, though he did drop some of his things when he first got aboard, and aunt melissy scolded him for that as soon as she caught her breath and got over being frightened and was sitting up on her part of the anchor enjoying the scenery. [illustration: the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family] "i never had such a trip as that before, and never expect to have one again. the balloon went over the wide blue water just after it got our family, and we were all afraid we would be let down in it and drowned; but the people who were in the balloon threw out something heavy which we thought at first they were throwing at us, but it must have been something to make the balloon go up; for we did go up until aunt melissy said if we'd just get a little nearer one of those clouds she'd step out on it and live there, as she'd always wanted to do since she was a child. "then we all sat up and held on tight, above and below, and said what a nice day it was to travel, and that we'd always travel that way hereafter; and uncle silas and the hired man unhooked their furniture, so they could land easier when the time came, and aunt melissy passed around the lunch, and we looked down and saw the water and the land again and a lot of houses and trees, and aunt melissy said that nobody could ever made her believe the world was that big if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. "and uncle silas and the hired man said that of course this was going pretty fast, but that they had travelled a good deal faster sometimes when they were in town with cousin glenwood, and pretty soon he showed us the town where cousin glenwood lived, and he and the hired man tried to point out the house to us, but they couldn't agree about which it was because the houses didn't look the same from up there in the air as they did from down on the ground. "i know i shall never forget that trip. we saw ever so many different mr. men and mr. dogs, and animals of every kind, and houses that had chimneys taller than any tree, and a good many things that even uncle silas did not know about. then by-and-by we came to some woods again--the biggest kind of big deep woods--and we saw that we were getting close to the tree-tops, and we were all afraid we would get hit by the branches and maybe knocked off with our things. "and pretty soon, sure enough, that anchor did drop right down among the trees, and such a clapping and scratching as we did get! "we shut our eyes and held on, and some of our furniture was brushed off of uncle silas and the hired man, and aunt melissy lost her umbrella, and i lost a toy chicken, which i could never find again. then all at once there was a big sudden jerk that jarred uncle silas loose, and made aunt melissy holler that she was killed, and knocked the breath out of the rest of us for a few minutes. "but we were all there, and the anchor was fast on the limb of a big tree--a tree almost as big as the hollow tree, and hollow, just like it, with a nice handy place to go in. "so when we got our senses back we picked up all our things that we could find, and moved into the new place, and aunt melissy looked at the clock, which was still running, and it was just a little over two hours since we started. "then pretty soon we heard mr. man and his friends who had been up in the balloon coming, and we stayed close inside till they had taken the anchor and everything away, and after that, when it was getting dark, uncle silas and the hired man went out and found, not very far off, where there were some nice chickens that roosted in handy places, and brought home two or three, and aunt melissy set up the stove and cooked up a good supper, and we all sat around the kitchen fire, and the storm that the east wind had been blowing up came along sure enough and it rained all night, but we were snug and dry, and went to sleep mostly in beds made down on the floor, and lay there listening to the rain and thinking what a nice journey we'd had and what a good new home we'd found. "and it _was_ a good place, for i lived there till i grew up, and if i'm not mistaken some of uncle silas's and aunt melissy's children live there still. i haven't heard from any of them for a long time, but i am thinking of going on a visit over that way in the spring, and if that balloon is still running i'm going to travel with it. "and that," said mr. 'possum, "is a true story--all true, every word, for i was there." nobody said anything for a minute or two after mr. 'possum had finished his story--nobody _could_ say anything. then mr. rabbit coughed a little and remarked that he was glad that mr. 'possum said that the story was true, for no one would ever have suspected it. he said if mr. 'possum hadn't said it was true he would have thought it was one of those pleasant dreams that mr. 'possum had when he slept hanging to a peg head down. but mr. turtle, who had been sitting with his eyes shut and looking as if he were asleep, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true--at least, _some_ of it was true; for he himself had been sitting in the door of his house on the shore of the wide blue water when the balloon passed over, and he had seen uncle silas lovejoy's family sitting up there anchored and comfortable; and he had picked up a chair that uncle silas had dropped, and he had it in his house to this day, it being a good strong chair and better than any that was made nowadays. well, of course after that nobody said anything about mr. 'possum's story not being true, for they remembered how old and wise mr. turtle was and could always prove things, and they all talked about it a great deal, and asked mr. 'possum a good many questions. they said how nice it was to know somebody who had had an adventure like that, and mr. rabbit changed his seat so he could be next to mr. 'possum, because he said he wanted to write it all down to keep. [illustration: mr. turtle said that what mr. 'possum had told them was true] and mr. 'possum said he never would forget how good those chickens tasted that first night in the new home, and that mr. rabbit mustn't forget to put them in. then they all remembered that they were hungry now, and mr. crow and mr. squirrel and mr. robin hustled around to get a bite to eat before bedtime, and mr. 'possum hurried down to bring up the stove-wood, and was gone quite awhile, though nobody spoke of it--not then--even if they did wonder about it a little--and after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked and dropped off to sleep while the clock ticked and the blaze flickered about and made queer shadows on the wall of the hollow tree. footnote: [b] _hollow tree and deep woods book._ the bark of old hungry-wolf how the hollow tree people have a most unwelcome visitor, and what becomes of him "what made mr. 'possum so anxious to get the wood, and what made him stay down-stairs so long when he went after it?" asks the little lady next evening, when the story teller is lighting his pipe and getting ready to remember the history of the hollow tree. "we're coming to that. you may be sure there was some reason for it, for mr. 'possum doesn't hurry after wood or stay long in a cold place if he can help it, unless he has something on his mind. perhaps some of the deep woods people thought of that too, but if they did they didn't say anything--not at the time. i suppose they thought it didn't matter much, anyhow, if they got the wood." so they went right on having a good time, keeping up a nice fire, and eating up whatever they had; for they thought the big snow couldn't last as long as their wood and their things to eat, and every day they went up to look out of the up-stairs windows to see how much had melted, and every day they found it just about the same, only maybe a little crustier on top, and the weather stayed _very cold_. but they didn't mind it so long as they were warm and not hungry, and they played games, and recited their pieces, and sang, and danced, and said they had never had such a good time in all their lives. but one day when mr. crow went down into the store-room for supplies he found that he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything they had, and he came up looking pretty sober, though he didn't say anything about it--not then, for he knew there were plenty of bones and odds and ends he could scrape up, and he had a little flour and some meal in his pantry; so he could make soup and gravy and johnny-cake and hash, which he did right away, and they all said how fine such things were for a change, and told mr. crow to go right on making them as long as he wanted to, even if the snow stayed on till spring. and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon said it was like old times, and that mr. crow was probably the very best provider in the big deep woods. [illustration: one day mr. crow found he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything] mr. crow smiled, too, but he didn't feel like it much, for he knew that even johnny-cake and gravy wouldn't last forever, and that unless the snow went away pretty soon they would all be hungry and cold, for the wood was getting low, too. and one morning, when mr. crow went to his meal-sack and his flour-bag and his pile of odds and ends there was just barely enough for breakfast, and hardly that. and mr. crow didn't like to tell them about it, for he knew they all thought he could keep right on making johnny-cake and gravy forever, because they didn't have to stop to think where things came from, as he did, and he was afraid they would blame him when there was nothing more left. so the old black crow tried to step around lively and look pleasant, to keep anybody from noticing, because he thought it might turn warm that day and melt the snow; and when breakfast was ready he put on what there was and said he hadn't cooked very much because he had heard that light breakfasts were better for people who stayed in the house a good deal, and as for himself, he said he guessed he wouldn't eat any breakfast that morning at all. then while the others were eating he crept down-stairs and looked at the empty boxes and barrels and the few sticks of wood that were left, and he knew that if that snow didn't melt off right away they were going to have a _very hard time_. then he came back up in the big living-room and went on up-stairs to his own room, to look out the window to see if it wasn't going to be a warm, melting day. but mr. crow came back pretty soon. he came back in a hurry, too, and he slammed his door and locked it, and then let go of everything and just slid down-stairs. then the deep woods people jumped up quick from the table and ran to him, for they thought he was having a fit of some kind, and they still thought so when they looked into his face: for mr. crow's eyes were rolled up and his bill was pale, and when he tried to speak he couldn't. and mr. rabbit said it was because mr. crow had done without his breakfast, and he ran to get something from the table; but mr. crow couldn't eat, and then they saw that some of the feathers on top of his head were turning gray, and they knew he had seen some awful thing just that little moment he was in his room. so then they all looked at one another and wondered what it was, and they were glad mr. crow had locked the door. then they carried him over to the fire, and pretty soon he got so he could whisper a little, and when they knew what he was saying they understood why he was so scared and why he had locked the door; for the words that mr. crow kept whispering over and over were: "old hungry-wolf! old hungry-wolf! old hungry-wolf!" all the deep woods people know what that means. they know that when old hungry-wolf comes, or even when you hear him bark, it means that there is no food left in the big deep woods for anybody, and that nobody can tell how long it will be before there _will_ be food again. and all the deep woods people stood still and held their breath and listened for the bark of old hungry-wolf, because they knew mr. crow had seen his face looking in the window. and they all thought they heard it, except mr. 'possum, who said he didn't believe it was old hungry-wolf at all that mr. crow had seen, but only mr. gray wolf himself, who had perhaps slipped out and travelled over the snow to see if they were all at home and comfortable. but mr. crow said: "no, no; it was old hungry-wolf! he was big and black, and i saw his great fiery eyes!" then mr. 'possum looked very brave, and said he would see if old hungry-wolf was looking into his window too, and he went right up, and soon came back and said there wasn't any big black face at his window, and he thought that mr. crow's empty stomach had made him imagine things. so then mr. 'coon said that he would go up to _his_ room if the others would like to come along, and they could see for themselves whether old hungry-wolf was trying to get in or not. [illustration: then mr. 'coon slammed his door] then they all went very quietly up mr. 'coon's stair (all except mr. 'possum, who stayed with mr. crow), and they opened mr. 'coon's door and took one look inside, and then mr. 'coon he slammed _his_ door shut, and locked it, and they all let go of everything and came sliding down in a heap, for they had seen the great fiery eyes and black face of old hungry-wolf glaring in at mr. 'coon's window. so they all huddled around the fire and lit their pipes--for they still had some tobacco--and smoked, but didn't say anything, until by-and-by mr. crow told them that there wasn't another bite to eat in the house and very little wood, and that that was the reason why old hungry-wolf had come. and they talked about it in whispers--whether they ought to exercise any more, because though exercise would help them to keep warm and save wood, it would make them hungrier. and some of them said they thought they would try to go to sleep like mr. bear, who slept all winter and never knew that he was hungry until spring. so they kept talking, and now and then they would stop and listen, and they all said they could hear the bark of old hungry-wolf--all except mr. 'possum, which was strange, because mr. 'possum is fond of good things and would be apt to be the very first to hear old hungry's bark. [illustration: mr. 'possum said not to move, that he would go after a piece of wood] and when the fire got very low and it was getting cold, mr. 'possum said for them not to move; that he would go down after a piece of wood, and he would attend to the fire as long as the wood lasted, and try to make it last as long as possible. and every time the fire got very low mr. 'possum would bring a piece of wood, and sometimes he stayed a good while (just for one piece of wood), but they still didn't think much about it--not then. what they did think about was how hungry they were, and mr. 'crow said he knew he could eat as much as the old ancestor of his that was told about in a book which he had once borrowed from mr. man's little boy who had left it out in the yard at dinner-time. then they all begged mr. crow to get the book and read it to them, and perhaps they could imagine they were not so hungry. so mr. crow brought the book and read them the poem about the ravenous raven oh, there was an old raven as black as could be, and a wonderful sort of a raven was he; for his house he kept tidy, his yard he kept neat, and he cooked the most marvellous dainties to eat. he could roast, he could toast, he could bake, he could fry, he could stir up a cake in the wink of an eye, he could boil, he could broil, he could grill, he could stew-- oh, there wasn't a thing that this bird couldn't do. he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair, and his plans for new puddings and pies would prepare; but, alas! like the famous jim crow with his shelf, he was greedy, and ate all his dainties himself. [illustration: he would smoke in the sun when the mornings were fair] it was true he was proud of the things he could cook, and would call in his neighbors sometimes for a look, or a taste, it may be, when his pastry was fine; but he'd never been known to invite them to dine. with a look and a sigh they could stand and behold all the puddings so brown and the sauces of gold; with a taste and a growl they'd reluctantly go praying vengeance to fall on that greedy old crow. [illustration: with a look and a sigh they would stand and behold] now, one morning near christmas when holly grows green, and the best of good things in the markets are seen, he went out for a smoke in the crisp morning air, and to think of some holiday dish to prepare. mr. rabbit had spices to sell at his store, mr. reynard had tender young chicks by the score, and the old raven thought, as he stood there alone, of the tastiest pastry that ever was known. then away to the market he hurried full soon, dropping in for a chat with the 'possum and 'coon just to tell them his plans, which they heard with delight, and to ask them to call for a moment that night [illustration: the tastiest pastry that ever was known] for a look and a taste of his pastry so fine, and he hinted he might even ask them to dine. then he hurried away, and the rest of the day messrs. 'possum and 'coon were expectant and gay. oh, he hurried away and to market he went, and his money for spices and poultry he spent, while behind in the market were many, he knew, who would talk of the marvellous things he would do; so with joy in his heart and with twinkling eye he returned to his home his new project to try, then to stir and to bake he began right away, and his dish was complete at the end of the day. [illustration: then to stir and to bake he began right away] aye, the marvel was done--'twas a rich golden hue, and its smell was delicious--the old raven knew that he never had made such a pastry before, and a look of deep trouble his countenance wore; "for," thought he, "i am certain the 'possum and 'coon that i talked with to-day will be coming here soon, and expect me to ask them to dine, when, you see, there is just a good feast in this dainty for me." now, behold, he'd scarce uttered his thoughts when he heard at the casement a tapping--this greedy old bird-- and the latch was uplifted, and gayly strode in both the 'coon and the 'possum with faces agrin. they were barbered and brushed and arrayed in their best, in the holiday fashion their figures were dressed, while a look in each face, to the raven at least, said, "we've come here to-night, sir, prepared for a feast." and the raven he smiled as he said, "howdy-do?" for he'd thought of a plan to get rid of the two; and quoth he, "my dear friends, i am sorry to say that the wonderful pastry i mentioned to-day when it came to be baked was a failure complete, disappointing to taste and disturbing to eat. i am sorry, dear friends, for i thought 'twould be fine; i am sorry i cannot invite you to dine." and the 'coon and the 'possum were both sorry, too, and suspicious, somewhat, for the raven they knew. they declared 'twas too bad all that pudding to waste, and they begged him to give them at least just a taste, but he firmly refused and at last they departed, while the greedy old crow for the dining-room started, and the pie so delicious he piled on his plate, and he ate, and he ate, and he ate, and he ate! [illustration: the greedy old raven, but greedy no more] well, next morn when the 'possum and 'coon passed along they could see at the raven's that something was wrong, for no blue curling smoke from the chimney-top came; so they opened his door and they called out his name, and they entered inside, and behold! on the floor was the greedy old raven, but greedy no more: for his heart it was still--not a flutter was there-- and his toes were turned up and the table was bare; now his epitaph tells to the whole country-side how he ate, and he ate, and he ate till he died. when mr. crow finished, mr. rabbit said it was certainly an interesting poem, and if he just had a chance now to eat till he died he'd take it, and mr. 'coon said he'd give anything to know how that pie had tasted, and he didn't see how any _one_ pie could be big enough to kill anybody that felt as hungry as _he_ did now. and mr. 'possum didn't say much of anything, but only seemed drowsy and peaceful-like, which was curious for _him_ as things were. well, all that day, and the next day, and the next, there wasn't anything to eat, and they sat as close as they could around the little fire and wished they'd saved some of the big logs and some of the food, too, that they had used up so fast when they thought the big snow would go away. and the bark of old hungry-wolf got louder and louder, and he began to gnaw, too, and they all heard it, day and night--all except mr. 'possum, who said he didn't know why, but that for some reason he couldn't hear a sound like that at all, which was _very_ strange, indeed. but there was something else about mr. 'possum that was strange. he didn't get any thinner. all the others began to show the change right away, but mr. 'possum still looked the same, and still kept cheerful, and stepped around as lively as ever, and that was _very strange_. by-and-by, when mr. 'possum had gone down-stairs for some barrel staves to burn, for the wood was all gone, mr. rabbit spoke of it, and said he couldn't understand it; and then mr. 'coon, who had been thinking about it too, said he wondered why it sometimes took mr. 'possum so long to get a little bit of wood. then they all remembered how mr. 'possum had stayed so long down-stairs whenever he went, even before old hungry-wolf came to the hollow tree, and they couldn't understand it _at all_. and just then mr. 'possum came up with two little barrel staves which he had been a long time getting, and they all turned and looked at him very closely, which was a thing they had never done until that time. and before mr. 'possum noticed it, they saw him chew--a kind of last, finishing chew--and then give a little swallow--a sort of last, finishing swallow--and just then he noticed them watching him, and he stopped right in his tracks and dropped the two little barrel staves and looked very scared and guilty, which was strange, when he had always been so willing about the wood. then they all got up out of their chairs and looked straight at mr. 'possum, and said: "what was that you were chewing just now?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. [illustration: looked straight at mr. 'possum and said, "what was that you were chewing just now?"] then they all said: "what was that you were swallowing just now?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why do you always stay so long when you go for wood?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why is it that you don't get thin, like the rest of us?" and mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "why is it you never hear the bark of old hungry-wolf?" and mr. 'possum said, very weakly: "i did think i heard it a little while ago." then they all said: "and was that why you went down after wood?" and once more mr. 'possum couldn't say a word. then they all said: "what have you got _down there_ to eat? and _where_ do you keep it?" then mr. 'possum seemed to think of something, and picked up the two little barrel staves and brought them over to the fire and put them on, and looked very friendly, and sat down and lit his pipe and smoked a minute, and said that climbing the stairs had overcome him a little, and that he wasn't feeling very well, but if they'd let him breathe a minute he'd tell them all about it, and how he had been preparing a nice surprise for them, for just such a time as this; but when he saw they had found out something, it all came on him so sudden that, what with climbing the stairs and all, he couldn't quite gather himself, but that he was all right now, and the surprise was ready. "of course you know," mr. 'possum said, "that i have travelled a good deal, and have seen a good many kinds of things happen, and know about what to expect. and when i saw how fast we were using up the food, and how deep the snow was, i knew we might expect a famine that even mr. crow's johnny-cake and gravy wouldn't last through; and mr. crow mentioned something of the kind once himself, though he seemed to forget it right away again, for he went on giving us just as much as ever. but i didn't forget about it, and right away i began laying aside in a quiet place some of the things that would keep pretty well, and that we would be glad to have when old hungry-wolf should really come along and we had learned to live on lighter meals and could make things last." mr. 'possum was going right on, but mr. 'coon interrupted him, and said that mr. 'possum could call it living on lighter meals if he wanted to but that he hadn't eaten any meal at all for three days, and that if mr. 'possum had put away anything for a hungry time he wished he'd get it out right now, without any more explaining, for it was food that he wanted and not explanations, and all the others said so too. then mr. 'possum said he was just coming to that, but he only wished to say a few words about it because they had seemed to think that he was doing something that he shouldn't, when he was really trying to save them from old hungry-wolf, and he said he had kept his surprise as long as he could, so it would last longer, and that he had been pretending not to hear old hungry's bark just to keep their spirits up, and he supposed one of the reasons why he hadn't got any thinner was because he hadn't been so worried, and had kept happy in the nice surprise he had all the time, just saving it for when they would begin to need it most. as to what he had been chewing and swallowing when he came up-stairs, mr. 'possum said that he had been taking just the least little taste of some of the things to see if they were keeping well--some nice cooked chickens, for instance, from a lot that mr. crow had on hand and didn't remember about, and a young turkey or two, and a few ducks, and a bushel or so of apples, and a half a barrel of doughnuts, and-- but mr. 'possum didn't get any further, for all the deep woods people made a wild scramble for the stairs, with mr. 'possum after them, and when they got down in the store-room he took them behind one of the big roots of the hollow tree, and there was a passageway that none of them had ever suspected, and mr. 'possum lit a candle and led them through it and out into a sort of cave, and there, sure enough, were all the things he had told them about and some mince-pies besides. and there was even some wood, for mr. 'possum had worked hard to lay away a supply of things for a long snowed-in time. then all the hollow tree people sat right down there and had some of the things, and by-and-by they carried some more up-stairs, and some wood, too, and built up a fine big fire, and lit their pipes and smoked, and forgot everything unpleasant in the world. and they all said how smart and good mr. 'possum was to save all that food for the very time when they would need it most, when all the rest of them had been just eating it up as fast as possible and would have been now without a thing in the world except for mr. 'possum. then mr. 'possum asked them if they could hear old hungry-wolf any more, and they listened but they couldn't hear a sound, and then they went up into mr. crow's room, and into mr. 'coon's room, and into mr. 'possum's room, and they couldn't see a thing of him anywhere, though it was just the time of day to see him, for it was late in the evening--the time old hungry-wolf is most likely to look in the window. and that night it turned warm, and the big snow began to thaw; and it thawed, and it thawed, and all the brooks and rivers came up, and even the wide blue water rose so that the deep woods company had to stay a little longer in the hollow tree, even when all the snow was nearly gone. mr. rabbit was pretty anxious to get home, and started out one afternoon with mr. turtle along, because mr. turtle is a good swimmer. but there was too much water to cross and they came back again just at sunset, and mr. crow let them in,[c] so they had to wait several days longer. but mr. 'possum's food lasted, and by the time it was gone they could get plenty more; and when they all went away and left the three hollow tree people together again, they were very happy because they had had such a good time; and the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow were as good friends as ever, though the gray feathers on the top of mr. crow's head never did turn quite black again, and some of the deep woods people call him "silver-top" to this day. the little lady looks anxiously at the story teller. "did old hungry-wolf ever get inside of the hollow tree?" she asks. "no, he never did get inside; they only saw him through the window, and heard him bark." "and why couldn't mr. 'possum ever hear him sometimes?" "well, you see, old hungry isn't a real wolf, but only a shadow wolf--the shadow of famine. he only looks in when people dread famine, and he only barks and gnaws when they feel it. a famine, you know, is when one is very hungry and there is nothing to eat. i don't think mr. 'possum was very hungry, and he had all those nice things laid away, so he would not care much about that old shadow wolf, which is only another name for hunger." the little lady clings very close to the story teller. "will we ever see old hungry-wolf and hear his bark?" the story teller sits up quite straight, and gathers the little lady tight. "good gracious, no!" he says. "he moved out of our part of the country before you were born, and we'll take good care that he doesn't come back any more." "i'm glad," says the little lady. "you can sing now--you know--the 'hollow tree song.'" footnote: [c] see picture on cover. an early spring call on mr. bear mr. 'possum's curious dream and what came of it "what did they do then?" asks the little lady. "what did the deep woods people all do after they got through being snowed in?" "well, let's see. it got to be spring then pretty soon--early spring--of course, and mr. jack rabbit went to writing poetry and making garden; mr. robin went to meet mrs. robin, who had been spending the winter down south; mr. squirrel, who is quite young, went to call on a very nice young miss squirrel over toward the big west hills; mr. dog had to help mr. man a good deal with the spring work; mr. turtle got out all his fishing-things and looked them over, and the hollow tree people had a general straightening up after company. they had a big house-cleaning, of course, with most of their things out on the line, and mr. 'possum said that he'd just about as soon be snowed-in for good as to have to beat carpets and carry furniture up and down stairs all the rest of his life." but they got through at last, and everything was nice when they were settled, only there wasn't a great deal to be had to eat, because it had been such a long, cold winter that things were pretty scarce and hard to get. one morning mr. 'possum said he had had a dream the night before, and he wished it would come true. he said he had dreamed that they were all invited by mr. bear to help him eat the spring breakfast which he takes after his long winter nap, and that mr. bear had about the best breakfast he ever sat down to. he said he had eaten it clear through, from turkey to mince-pie, only he didn't get the mince-pie because mr. bear had asked him if he'd have it hot or cold, and just as he made up his mind to have some of both he woke up and didn't get either. then mr. 'coon said he wished he could have a dream like that; that he'd take whatever came along and try to sleep through it, and mr. crow thought a little while and said that sometimes dreams came true, especially if you helped them a little. he said he hadn't heard anything of mr. bear this spring, and it was quite likely he had been taking a longer nap than usual. it might be a good plan, he thought, to drop over that way and just look in in passing, because if mr. bear should be sitting down to breakfast he would be pretty apt to ask them to sit up and have a bite while they told him the winter news. then mr. 'possum said that he didn't believe anybody in the world but mr. crow would have thought of that, and that hereafter he was going to tell him every dream he had. they ought to start right away, he said, because if they should get there just as mr. bear was clearing off the table it would be a good deal worse than not getting the mince-pie in his dream. so they hurried up and put on their best clothes and started for mr. bear's place, which is over toward the edge of the world, only farther down, in a fine big cave which is fixed up as nice as a house and nicer. but when they got pretty close to it they didn't go so fast and straight, but just sauntered along as if they were only out for a little walk and happened to go in that direction, for they thought mr. bear might be awake and standing in his door. they met mr. rabbit about that time and invited him to go along, but mr. rabbit said his friendship with mr. bear was a rather distant one, and that he mostly talked to him from across the river or from a hill that had a good clear running space on the other slope. he said mr. bear's taste was good, for he was fond of his family, but that the fondness had been all on mr. bear's side. [illustration: they went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was] so the hollow tree people went along, saying what a nice man they thought mr. bear was, and saying it quite loud, and looking every which way, because mr. bear might be out for a walk too. but they didn't see him anywhere, and by-and-by they got right to the door of his cave and knocked a little, and nobody came. then they listened, but couldn't hear anything at first, until mr. 'coon, who has very sharp ears, said that he was sure he heard mr. bear breathing and that he must be still asleep. then the others thought they heard it, too, and pretty soon they were sure they heard it, and mr. 'possum said it was too bad to let mr. bear oversleep himself this fine weather, and that they ought to go in and let him know how late it was. so then they pushed open the door and went tiptoeing in to where mr. bear was. they thought, of course, he would be in bed, but he wasn't. he was sitting up in a big armchair in his dressing-gown, with his feet up on a low stool, before a fire that had gone out some time in december, with a little table by him that had a candle on it which had burned down about the time the fire went out. his pipe had gone out too, and they knew that mr. bear had been smoking, and must have been very tired and gone to sleep right where he was, and hadn't moved all winter long. [illustration: mr. bear must have been very tired and gone to sleep right where he was] it wasn't very cheerful in there, so mr. 'possum said maybe they'd better stir up a little fire to take the chill off before they woke mr. bear, and mr. 'coon found a fresh candle and lighted it, and mr. crow put the room to rights a little, and wound up the clock, and set it, and started it going. then when the fire got nice and bright they stood around and looked at mr. bear, and each one said it was a good time now to wake him up, but nobody just wanted to do it, because mr. bear isn't always good-natured, and nobody could tell what might happen if he should wake up cross and hungry, and he'd be likely to do that if his nap was broken too suddenly. mr. 'possum said that mr. crow was the one to do it, as he had first thought of this trip, and mr. crow said that it was mr. 'possum's place, because it had been in his dream. then they both said that as mr. 'coon hadn't done anything at all so far, he might do that. mr. 'coon said that he'd do it quick enough, only he'd been listening to the way mr. bear breathed, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be ready to wake up for a week yet, and it would be too bad to wake him now when he might not have been resting well during the first month or so of his nap and was making it up now. he said they could look around a little and see if mr. bear's things were keeping well, and perhaps brush up his pantry so it would be nice and clean when he did wake. then mr. crow said he'd always wanted to see mr. bear's pantry, for he'd heard it was such a good place to keep things, and perhaps he could get some ideas for the hollow tree; and mr. 'possum said that mr. bear had the name of having a bigger pantry and more things in it than all the rest of the deep woods people put together. so they left mr. bear all nice and comfortable, sleeping there by the fire, and lit another candle and went over to his pantry, which was at the other side of the room, and opened the door and looked in. well, they couldn't say a word at first, but only just looked at one another and at all the things they saw in that pantry. first, on the top shelf there was a row of pies, clear around. then on the next shelf there was a row of cakes--first a fruit-cake, then a jelly-cake, then another fruit-cake and then another jelly-cake, and the cakes went all the way around, too, and some of them had frosting on them, and you could see the raisins in the fruit-cake and pieces of citron. then on the next shelf there was a row of nice cooked partridges, all the way around, close together. and on the shelf below was a row of meat-pies made of chicken and turkey and young lamb, and on the shelf below that there was a row of nice canned berries, and on the floor, all the way around, there were jars of honey--nice comb honey that mr. bear had gathered in november from bee-trees. mr. crow spoke first. "well, i never," he said, "never in all my life, saw anything like it!" and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum both said: "he can't do it--a breakfast like that is too much for _any_ bear!" then mr. crow said: "he oughtn't to be _allowed_ to do it. mr. bear is too nice a man to lose." and mr. 'possum said: "he _mustn't_ be allowed to do it--we'll help him." "where do you suppose he begins?" said mr. 'coon. "at the top, very likely," said mr. crow. "he's got it arranged in courses." "i don't care where he begins," said mr. 'possum; "i'm going to begin somewhere, now, and i think i will begin on a meat-pie." and mr. crow said he thought he'd begin on a nice partridge, and mr. 'coon said he believed he'd try a mince-pie or two first, as a kind of a lining, and then fill in with the solid things afterward. so then mr. 'possum took down his meat-pie, and said he hoped this wasn't a dream, and mr. crow took down a nice brown partridge, and mr. 'coon stood up on a chair and slipped a mince-pie out of a pan on the top shelf, and everything would have been all right, only he lost his balance a little and let the pie fall. it made quite a smack when it struck the floor, and mr. 'possum jumped and let his pie fall, too, and that made a good deal more of a noise, because it was large and in a tin pan. then mr. crow blew out the light quick, and they all stood perfectly still and listened, for it seemed to them a noise like that would wake the dead, much more mr. bear, and they thought he would be right up and in there after them. but mr. bear was too sound asleep for that. they heard him give a little cough and a kind of a grunt mixed with a sleepy word or two, and when they peeked out through the door, which was open just a little ways, they saw him moving about in his chair, trying first one side and then the other, as if he wanted to settle down and go to sleep again, which he didn't do, but kept right on grunting and sniffing and mumbling and trying new positions. then, of course, the hollow tree people were scared, for they knew pretty well he was going to wake up. there wasn't any way to get out of mr. bear's pantry except by the door, and you had to go right by mr. bear's chair to get out of the cave. so they just stood there, holding their breath and trembling, and mr. 'possum wished now it _was_ a dream, and that he could wake up right away before the nightmare began. well, mr. bear he turned this way and that way, and once or twice seemed about to settle down and sleep again; but just as they thought he really had done it, he sat up pretty straight and looked all around. then the hollow tree people thought their time had come, and they wanted to make a jump, and run for the door, only they were afraid to try it. mr. bear yawned a long yawn, and stretched himself, and rubbed his eyes open, and looked over at the fire and down at the candle on the table and up at the clock on the mantel. the 'coon and 'possum and the old black crow thought, of course, he'd know somebody had been there by all those things being set going, and they expected him to roar out something terrible and start for the pantry first thing. but mr. bear didn't seem to understand it at all, or to suppose that anything was wrong, and from what he mumbled to himself they saw right away that he thought he'd been asleep only a little while instead of all winter long. "humph!" they heard him growl, "i must have gone to sleep, and was dreaming it's time to wake up. i didn't sleep long, though, by the way the fire and the candle look, besides it's only a quarter of ten, and i remember winding the clock at half after eight. funny i feel so hungry, after eating a big supper only two hours ago. must be the reason i dreamed it was spring. humph! guess i'll just eat a piece of pie and go to bed." so mr. bear got up and held on to his chair to steady himself, and yawned some more and rubbed his eyes, for he was only about half awake yet, and pretty soon he picked up his candle and started for the pantry. then the hollow tree people felt as if they were going to die. they didn't dare to breathe or make the least bit of noise, and just huddled back in a corner close to the wall, and mr. 'possum all at once felt as if he must sneeze right away, and mr. 'coon would have given anything to be able to scratch his back, and mr. crow thought if he could only cough once more and clear his throat he wouldn't care whether he had anything to eat, ever again. and mr. bear he came shuffling along toward the pantry with his candle all tipped to one side, still rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up, and everything was just as still as still--all except a little scratchy sound his claws made dragging along the floor, though that wasn't a nice sound for the hollow tree people to hear. and when he came to the pantry door mr. bear pushed it open quite wide and was coming straight in, only just then he caught his toe a little on the door-sill and _stumbled_ in, and that was too much for mr. 'possum, who turned loose a sneeze that shook the world. then mr. crow and mr. 'coon made a dive under mr. bear's legs, and mr. 'possum did too, and down came mr. bear and down came his candle, and the candle went out, but not any quicker than the hollow tree people, who broke for the cave door and slammed it behind them, and struck out for the bushes as if they thought they'd never live to get there. but when they got into some thick hazel brush they stopped a minute to breathe, and then they all heard mr. bear calling "help! help!" as loud as he could, and when they listened they heard him mention something about an earthquake and that the world was coming to an end. then mr. 'possum said that from the sound of mr. bear's voice he seemed to be unhappy about something, and that it was too bad for them to just pass right by without asking what was the trouble, especially if mr. bear, who had always been so friendly, should ever hear of it. so then they straightened their collars and ties and knocked the dust off a little, and mr. 'coon scratched his back against a little bush and mr. crow cleared his throat, and they stepped out of the hazel patch and went up to mr. bear's door and pushed it open a little and called out: "oh, mr. bear, do you need any help?" [illustration: mr. 'coon scratched his back against a little bush] "oh yes," groaned mr. bear, "come quick! i've been struck by an earthquake and nearly killed, and everything i've got must be ruined. bring a light and look at my pantry!" so then mr. 'coon ran with a splinter from mr. bear's fire and lit the candle, and mr. bear got up, rubbing himself and taking on, and began looking at his pantry shelves, which made him better right away. "oh," he said, "how lucky the damage is so small! only two pies and a partridge knocked down, and they are not much hurt. i thought everything was lost, and my nerves are all upset when i was getting ready for my winter sleep. how glad i am you happened to be passing. stay with me, and we will eat to quiet our nerves." then the hollow tree people said that the earthquake had made them nervous too, and that perhaps a little food would be good for all of them; so they flew around just as if they were at home, and brought mr. bear's table right into the pantry, and some chairs, and set out the very best things and told mr. bear to sit right up to the table and help himself, and then all the others sat up, too, and they ate everything clear through, from meat-pie to mince-pie, just as if mr. 'possum's dream had really come true. and mr. bear said he didn't understand how he could have such a good appetite when he had such a big supper only two hours ago, and he said that there must have been two earthquakes, because a noise of some kind had roused him from a little nap he had been taking in his chair, but that the real earthquake hadn't happened until he got to the pantry door, where he stumbled a little, which seemed to touch it off. he said he hoped he'd never live to go through with a thing like that again. then the hollow tree people said they had heard both of the shocks, and that the last one was a good deal the worst, and that of course such a thing would sound a good deal louder in a cave anyway. and by-and-by, when they were all through eating, they went in by the fire and sat down and smoked, and mr. bear said he didn't feel as sleepy as he thought he should because he was still upset a good deal by the shock, but that he guessed he would just crawl into bed while they were there, as it seemed nice to have company. so he did, and by-and-by he dropped off to sleep again, and the hollow tree people borrowed a few things, and went out softly and shut the door behind them. they stopped at mr. rabbit's house on the way home, and told him they had enjoyed a nice breakfast with mr. bear, and how mr. bear had sent a partridge and a pie and a little pot of honey to mr. rabbit because of his fondness for the family. then mr. rabbit felt quite pleased, because it was too early for spring vegetables and hard to get good things for the table. "and did mr. bear sleep all summer?" asks the little lady. [illustration: mr. rabbit thanked him from across the river] no, he woke up again pretty soon, for he had finished his nap, and of course the next time when he looked around he found his fire out and the candle burned down and the clock stopped, so he got up and went outside, and saw it was spring and that he had slept a good deal longer than usual. but when he went to eat his spring breakfast he couldn't understand why he wasn't very hungry, and thought it must be because he'd eaten two such big suppers. "but why didn't the hollow tree people tell him it was spring and not let him go to bed again?" well, i s'pose they thought it wouldn't be very polite to tell mr. bear how he'd been fooled, and, besides, he needed a nice nap again after the earthquake--anyhow, he thought it was an earthquake, and was a good deal upset. and it was a long time before he found out what _had really_ happened, and he never would have known, if mr. rabbit hadn't seen him fishing one day and thanked him from across the river for the nice breakfast he had sent him by the hollow tree people. that set mr. bear to thinking, and he asked mr. rabbit a few questions about things in general and earthquakes in particular, and the more he found out and thought about it the more he began to guess just how it was, and by-and-by when he did find out all about it, he didn't care any more, and really thought it quite a good joke on himself for falling asleep in his chair and sleeping there all winter long. mr. crow's garden the hollow tree people learn how to raise fine vegetables one morning, right after breakfast in the hollow tree, mr. crow said he'd been thinking of something ever since he woke up, and if the 'coon and the 'possum thought it was a good plan he believed he'd do it. he said of course they knew how good mr. rabbit's garden always was, and how he nearly lived out of it during the summer, mr. rabbit being a good deal of a vegetarian; by which he meant that he liked vegetables better than anything, while the hollow tree people, mr. crow said, were a little different in their tastes, though he didn't know just what the name for them was. he said he thought they might be humanitarians, because they liked the things that mr. man and other human beings liked, but that he wasn't sure whether that was the right name or not. then mr. 'possum said for him to never mind about the word, but to go on and talk about his plan if it had anything to do with something to eat, for he was getting pretty tired of living on little picked-up things such as they had been having this hard spring, and mr. 'coon said so too. so then mr. crow said: "well, i've been planning to have a garden this spring like mr. rabbit's." "humph!" said mr. 'possum, "i thought you were going to start a chicken farm." but mr. crow said "no," that the big deep woods didn't seem a healthy place for chickens, and that they could pick up a chicken here and there by-and-by, and then if they had nice green pease to go with it, or some green corn, or even a tender salad, it would help out, especially when they had company like mr. robin, or mr. squirrel, or mr. rabbit, who cared for such things. so then the 'coon and the 'possum both said that to have green pease and corn was a very good idea, especially when such things were mixed with young chickens with plenty of dressing and gravy, and that as this was a pleasant morning they might walk over and call on jack rabbit so that the old black crow could find out about planting things. mr. 'possum said that his uncle silas lovejoy always had a garden, and he had worked it a good deal when he was young, but that he had forgotten just how things should be planted, though he knew the moon had something to do with it, and if you didn't get the time right the things that ought to grow up would grow down and the down things would all grow up, so that you'd have to dig your pease and pick your potatoes when the other way was the fashion and thought to be better in this climate. so then the hollow tree people put on their things and went out into the nice april sunshine and walked over to jack rabbit's house, saying how pleasant it was to take a little walk this way when everything was getting green, and they passed by where mr. and mrs. robin were building a new nest, and they looked in on a cozy little hollow tree where mr. squirrel, who had just brought home a young wife from over by the big west hills, had set up housekeeping with everything new except the old-fashioned feather-bed and home-made spread which miss squirrel had been given by her folks. they looked through mr. squirrel's house and said how snug it was, and that perhaps it would be better not to try to furnish it too much at once, as it was nice just to get things as one was able, instead of doing everything at the start. when they got to mr. rabbit's house he was weaving a rag carpet for his front room, and they all stood behind him and watched him weave, and by-and-by mr. 'coon wanted to try it, but he didn't know how to run the treadle exactly, and got some of the strands too loose and some too tight, so he gave it up, and they all went out to look at mr. rabbit's garden. well, mr. rabbit did have a nice garden. it was all laid out in rows, and was straight and trim, and there wasn't a weed anywhere. he had things up, too--pease and lettuce and radishes--and he had some tomato-plants growing in a box in the house, because it was too early to put them out. mr. rabbit said that a good many people bought their plants, but that he always liked to raise his own from seed, because then he knew just what they were and what to expect. he told them how to plant the different things and about the moon, and said there was an old adage in his family that if you remembered it you'd always plant at the right time. the adage, he said, was: "pease and beans in the light of the moon-- both in the pot before it's june." and of course you only had to change "light" to "dark" and use it for turnips and potatoes and such things, though really it was sometimes later than june, but june was near enough, and rhymed with "moon" better than july and august. he said he would give mr. crow all the seeds he wanted, and that when he was ready to put out tomatoes he would let him have plenty of plants too. then mr. 'coon said it would be nice to have a few flower seeds, and they all looked at mr. 'coon because they knew he had once been in love, and they thought by his wanting flowers that he might be going to get that way again. but mr. rabbit said he was fond of flowers, too, especially the old-fashioned kind, and he picked out some for mr. 'coon; and then he went to weaving again, and the hollow tree people watched him awhile, and he pointed out pieces of different clothes he had had that he was weaving into his carpet, and they all thought how nice it was to use up one's old things that way. then by-and-by the hollow tree people went back home, and they began their garden right away. it was just the kind of a day to make garden and they all felt like it, so they spaded and hoed and raked, and didn't find it very easy because the place had never been used for a garden before, and there were some roots and stones; and pretty soon mr. 'possum said that mr. crow and mr. 'coon might go on with the digging and he would plant the seeds, as he had been used to such work when he lived with his uncle silas as a boy. so then he took the seeds, but he couldn't remember mr. rabbit's adages which told whether beets and carrots and such things as grow below the ground had to be planted in the dark of the moon or the light of the moon, and it was the same about beans and pease and the things that grow above the ground; and when he spoke to mr. crow and mr. 'coon about it, one said it was one way and the other the other way, and then mr. 'possum said he wasn't planting the things in the moon anyhow, and he thought mr. rabbit had made the adages to suit the day he was going to plant and that they would work either way. so then mr. 'possum planted everything there was, and showed mr. 'coon how to plant his flower seeds; and when they were all done they stood off and admired their nice garden, and said it was just about as nice as jack rabbit's, and maybe nicer in some ways, because it had trees around it and was a pleasant place to work. [illustration: one said it was one way and the other the other way] well, after that they got up every morning and went out to look at their garden, to see if any of the things were coming up; and pretty soon they found a good _many_ things coming up, but they were not in hills and rows, and mr. 'possum said they were weeds, because he remembered that uncle silas's weeds had always looked like those, and how he and his little cousins had had to hoe them. so then they got their hoes and hoed every morning, and by-and-by they had to hoe some during the day too, to keep up with the weeds, and the sun was pretty hot, and mr. 'possum did most of his hoeing over by the trees where it wasn't so sunny, and said that hereafter he thought it would be a good plan to plant all their garden in the shade. and every day they kept looking for the seeds to come up, and by-and-by a few did come up, and then they were quite proud, and went over and told jack rabbit about it, and mr. rabbit came over to give them some advice, and said he thought their garden looked pretty well for being its first year and put in late, though it looked to him, he said, as if some of it had been planted the wrong time of the moon, and he didn't think so much shade was very good for most things. but mr. 'possum said he'd rather have more shade and less things, and he thought next year he'd let his part of the garden out on shares. well, it got hotter and hotter, and the weeds grew more and more, and the hollow tree people had to work and hoe and pull nearly all day in the sun to keep up with them, and they would have given it up pretty soon, only they wanted to show jack rabbit that they could have a garden too, and by-and-by, when their things got big enough to eat, they were so proud that they invited mr. rabbit to come over for dinner, and they sent word to mr. turtle, too, because he likes good things and lives alone, not being a family man like mr. robin and mr. squirrel. now of course the hollow tree people knew that they had no such fine things in their garden as jack rabbit had in his, and they said they couldn't expect to, but they'd try to have other things to make up; and mr. crow was cooking for two whole days getting his chicken-pies and his puddings and such things ready for that dinner. and then when the morning came for it he was out long before sun-up to pick the things in the garden while they were nice and fresh, with the dew on them. but when mr. crow looked over his garden he felt pretty bad, for, after all, the new potatoes were little and tough, and the pease were small and dry, and the beans were thin and stringy, and the salad was pretty puny and tasteless, and the corn was just nubbins, because it didn't grow in a very good place and maybe hadn't been planted or tended very well. so mr. crow walked up and down the rows and thought a good deal, and finally decided that he'd just take a walk over toward jack rabbit's garden to see if mr. rabbit's things were really so much better after all. it was just about sunrise, and mr. crow knew jack rabbit didn't get up so soon, and he made up his mind he wouldn't wake him when he got there, but would just take a look over his nice garden and come away again. so when he got to mr. rabbit's back fence he climbed through a crack, and sat down in the weeds to rest a little and to look around, and he saw that mr. rabbit's house was just as still and closed up as could be, and no signs of jack rabbit anywhere. so then mr. crow stepped out into the corn patch and looked along at the rows of fine roasting ears, which made him feel sad because of those little nubbins in his own garden, and then he saw the fine fat pease and beans and salads in jack rabbit's garden, and it seemed to him that mr. rabbit could never in the world use up all those things himself. then mr. crow decided that he would thin out a few of jack rabbit's things, which seemed to be too thick anyway to do well. it would be too bad to disturb mr. rabbit to tell him about it, and mr. crow didn't have time to wait for him to get up if he was going to get his dinner ready on time. so mr. crow picked some large ears of corn and some of mr. rabbit's best pease and beans and salads, and filled his apron with all he could carry, and climbed through the back fence again, and took out for home without wasting any more time. and when he got there mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum were just getting up, and he didn't bother to tell them about borrowing from mr. rabbit's garden, but set out some breakfast, and as soon as it was over pitched in to get ready for company. mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum flew around, too, to make the room look nice, and by-and-by everything was ready, and the table was set, and the hollow tree people were all dressed up and looking out the window. [illustration: mr. crow decided to thin out a few of jack rabbit's things] then pretty soon they saw mr. turtle coming through the timber, and just then jack rabbit came in sight from the other direction. mr. turtle had brought a basket of mussels, which always are nice with a big dinner, like oysters, and mr. rabbit said he would have brought some things out of his garden, only he knew the hollow tree people had a garden, too, this year, and would want to show what they could do in that line themselves. he said he certainly must take a look at their garden because he had heard a good deal about it from mr. robin. then mr. crow felt a little chilly, for he happened to think that if mr. rabbit went out into their garden and then saw the fine things which were going to be on the table he'd wonder where they came from. so he said right away that dinner was all ready, and they'd better sit down while things were hot and fresh. then they all sat down, and first had the mussels which mr. turtle had brought, and there were some fine sliced tomatoes with them, and mr. rabbit said he hadn't supposed that such fine big tomatoes as those could come out of a new garden that had been planted late, and that he certainly must see the vines they came off of before he went home, because they were just as big as his tomatoes, if not bigger, and he wanted to see just how they could do so well. and mr. crow felt _real_ chilly, and mr. 'coon and mr. 'possum both said they hadn't supposed their tomatoes were so big and ripe, though they hadn't looked at them since yesterday. but mr. rabbit said that a good many things could happen over night, and mr. crow changed the subject as quick as he could, and said that things always looked bigger and better on the table than they did in the garden, but that he'd picked all the real big, ripe tomatoes and he didn't think there'd be any more. then after the mussels they had the chicken-pie, and when mr. rabbit saw the vegetables that mr. crow served with it he looked at them and said: "my, what fine pease and beans, and what splendid corn! i am sure your vegetables are as good as anything in my garden, if not better. i certainly _must see_ just the spot where they grew. i would never have believed you could have done it, never, if i hadn't seen them right here on your table with my own eyes." then mr. turtle said they were the finest he ever tasted, and mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon both said they wouldn't have believed it themselves yesterday, and it was wonderful how much everything had grown over night. then the old black crow choked a little and coughed, and said he didn't seem to relish his food, and pretty soon he said that of course their garden _had_ done _pretty_ well, but that it was about through now, as these were things he had been saving for this dinner, and he had gathered all the biggest and best of them this morning before mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon were up. when mr. crow said that, jack rabbit looked the other way and made a very queer face, and you might have thought he was trying to keep from laughing if you had seen him, but maybe he was only trying to keep from coughing, for pretty soon he did cough a little and said that the early morning was the proper time to gather vegetables; that one could always pick out the best things then, and do it quietly before folks were up. then mr. crow felt a cold, shaky chill that went all the way up and down, and he was afraid to look up, though of course he didn't believe mr. rabbit knew anything about what he had done, only he was afraid that he would look so guilty that everybody would see it. he said that his head was a little dizzy with being over the hot stove so much, and he hoped they wouldn't think of going out until the cool of the evening, as the sun would be too much for him, and of course he wanted to be with them. [illustration: mr. crow was almost afraid to bring on the salad] poor mr. crow was almost afraid to bring on the salad, but he was just as afraid not to. only he did wish he had picked out mr. rabbit's smallest bunches instead of his biggest ones, for he knew there were no such other salads anywhere as those very ones he had borrowed from mr. rabbit's garden. but he put it off as long as he could, and by-and-by jack rabbit said that there was one thing he was sure the hollow tree couldn't beat him on, and that was salad. he said he had never had such fine heads as he had this year, and that there were a few heads especially that he had been saving to show his friends. then the 'coon and 'possum said "no," their salads were not very much, unless they had grown a great deal over night, like the other things--and when mr. crow got up to bring them he walked wobbly, and everybody said it was too bad that mr. crow _would_ always go to so much trouble for company. well, when he came in with that bowl of salad and set it down, mr. turtle and jack rabbit said, "did you ever in your life!" but mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon just sat and looked at it, for they thought it couldn't be true. then pretty soon mr. rabbit said that he would take back everything he had told them about his salad, and that he was coming over to take some lessons from the hollow tree people, and especially from mr. crow, on how to raise vegetables. he said that there were a good many ways to raise vegetables--some raised them in a garden; some raised them in a hothouse; some raised them in the market; but that mr. crow's way was the best way there was, and he was coming over to learn it. he said they must finish their dinner before dark, for he certainly must _see_ just where _all_ mr. crow's wonderful things came from. then mr. crow felt the gray spot on his head getting a good deal grayer, and he dropped his knife and fork, and swallowed two or three times, and tried to smile, though it was a sickly smile. he said that mr. rabbit was very kind, but that mr. 'possum and mr. 'coon had done a good deal of the work, too. but jack rabbit said "no," that nobody but an industrious person like mr. crow could have raised _those_ vegetables--a person who got up early, he said, and was used to taking a little trouble to get the best things. then mr. crow went after the dessert, and was glad enough that there were no more vegetables to come, especially of that kind. and mr. rabbit seemed to forget about looking at the garden until they were all through, and then he said that before they went outside he would read a little poem he had composed that morning lying in bed and looking at the sunrise across his own garden. he said he called it: me and my garden oh, it's nice to have a garden on which to put my labors. it's nice to have a garden especially for my neighbors. i like to see it growing when skies are blue above me; i like to see it gathered by those who really love me. i like to think in winter of pleasant summer labors; oh, it's nice to have a garden especially for my neighbors. everybody said that was a nice poem and sounded just like mr. rabbit, who was always so free-hearted--all except mr. crow, who tried to say it was nice, and couldn't. then mr. rabbit said they'd better go out now to see the hollow tree garden, but mr. crow said really he couldn't stand it yet, and they could see by his looks that he was feeling pretty sick, and mr. turtle said it was too bad to think of taking mr. crow out in the sun when he had worked so hard. so then they all sat around and smoked and told stories, and whenever they stopped mr. crow thought of something else to do and seemed to get better toward night, and got a great deal better when it got dark, and mr. jack rabbit said all at once that now it was too late to see the hollow tree garden, and that he was so sorry, for he knew he could have learned something if he could just have one look at it, for nobody could see those vegetables and that garden without learning a great deal. [illustration: jack rabbit capered and laughed all the way home] then he said he must go, and mr. turtle said he guessed _he_ must go too, so they both set out for home, and when jack rabbit got out of sight of the hollow tree and into a little open moonlight place, he just laid down on the ground and rolled over and laughed and kicked his feet, and sat up and rocked and looked at the moon and laughed; and he capered and laughed all the way home at the good joke he had all to himself on mr. crow. for mr. rabbit had been lying awake in bed that morning when mr. crow was in his garden, and he had seen mr. crow _all_ the time. when jack rabbit was a little boy a story of a very long time ago the little lady skips first on one foot and then on the other foot, around and around, until pretty soon she tumbles backward into _twelve flower-pots_. that, of course, makes a great damage, and though the little lady herself isn't hurt to speak of, she is frightened very much and has to be comforted by everybody, including the story teller, who comes last, and finishes up by telling about something that happened to jack rabbit when _he_ was little. once upon a time, it begins, when mr. jack rabbit was quite small, his mother left him all alone one afternoon while she went across the wide grass lands to visit an old aunt of hers and take her some of the nice blackberries she had been putting up that morning. mrs. rabbit had been very busy all the forenoon, and little jack had been watching her and making believe he was putting up berries too. and when mrs. rabbit got through she had cleaned her stove and polished it as nice as could be; then she gave little jack rabbit his dinner, with some of the berries that were left over, and afterward she washed his face and hands and found his blocks for him to play with, besides a new stick of red sealing-wax--the kind she used to seal her cans with; for they did not have patent screw-top cans in those days, but always sealed the covers on with red sealing-wax. then mrs. rabbit told little jack that he could play with his blocks, and build houses, with the red stick for a chimney, and to be a good boy until she came home. so little jack rabbit promised, and mrs. rabbit kissed him twice and took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started. little jack would have gone with her, only it was too far. well, after she had left, little jack played with his blocks and built houses and set the stick of sealing-wax up for a brick chimney, and by-and-by he played he was canning fruit, and he wished he could have a little stove and little cans and a little stick of sealing-wax, so he could really do it all just as she did. [illustration: took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started] then little jack rabbit looked at the nice polished stove and wondered how it would be to use that, and to build a little fire in it--just a _little_ fire--which would make everything seem a good deal more real, he thought, than his make-believe stove of blocks. and pretty soon little jack opened the stove door and looked in, and when he stirred the ashes there were still a few live coals there, and when he put in some shavings they blazed up, and when he put in some pieces of old shingles and things they blazed up too, and when he put in some of mrs. rabbit's nice dry wood the stove got _quite hot_! then little jack rabbit became somewhat frightened, for he had only meant to make a very small fire, and he thought this might turn into a big fire. also, he remembered some things his mother had told him about playing with fire and about _never going near a hot stove_. he thought he'd better open the stove door a little to see if the fire was getting too big, but he was afraid to touch it with his fingers for fear of burning them. he had seen his mother use a stick or something to open the stove door when it was hot, so he picked up the first thing that came handy, which was the stick of sealing-wax. but when he touched it to the hot door the red stick sputtered a little and left a bright red spot on the stove door. [illustration: and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove] then little jack forgot all about putting up blackberries, admiring that beautiful red spot on the shiny black stove, and thinking how nice it would be to make some more like it, which he thought would improve the looks of the stove a great deal. so then he touched it again in another place and made another spot, and in another place and made another spot, and in a lot of places and made a lot of spots, and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove, which was nice and smooth to mark on, though he made _some_ on the pipe. you would hardly have known it was the same stove when he got all through, and little jack thought how beautiful it was and how pleased his mother would be when she got home and _saw_ it. but then right away he happened to think that perhaps she might not be so pleased after all, and the more he thought about it the more sure he was that she wouldn't like her nice red-striped and spotted stove as well as a black one; and, besides, she had told him _never_ to play with fire. [illustration: little jack knew perfectly well that she wasn't at all pleased] and just at that moment mrs. rabbit herself stepped in the door! and when she looked at her red-spotted and striped stove and then at little jack rabbit, little jack knew perfectly well without her saying a single word that she wasn't _at all pleased_. so he began to cry very loud, and started to run, and tripped over his blocks and fell against a little stand-table that had mrs. rabbit's work-basket on it (for mrs. rabbit always knit or sewed while she was cooking anything), and all the spools and buttons and knitting-work went tumbling, with little jack rabbit right among them, holloing, "oh, i'm killed! i'm killed!"--just sprawling there on the floor, afraid to get up, and expecting every minute his mother would do something awful. but mrs. rabbit just stood and looked at him over her spectacles and then at her red-spotted and striped stove, and pretty soon she said: "well, this is a lovely mess to come home to!" which of course made little jack take on a good deal worse and keep on bawling out that he was killed, until mrs. rabbit told him that he was making a good deal of noise for a _dead_ man, and that if he'd get up and pick up all the things he'd upset maybe he'd come to life again. then little jack rabbit got up and ran to his mother and cried against her best dress and got some tears on it, and mrs. rabbit sat down in her rocker and looked at her stove and rocked him until he felt better. and by-and-by she changed her dress and went to cleaning her stove while little jack picked up all the things--all the spools and buttons and needles and knitting-work--every single thing. and after supper, when he said his prayers and went to bed, he promised never to disobey his mother again. [illustration: promised never to disobey his mother again] a hollow tree picnic the little lady and the story teller, and their friends not far from the house of low ceilings, which stands on the borders of the big deep woods, there is a still smaller house, where, in summertime, the story teller goes to make up things and write them down. and one warm day he is writing away and not noticing what time it is when he thinks he hears somebody step in the door. so then he looks around, and he sees a little straw hat and a little round red face under it, and then he sees a basket, and right away he knows it is the little lady. and the little lady says: "i've brought the picnic--did you know it?" "why, no!" the story teller says, looking surprised. "is it time?" "yes, and i've got huckleberries and cream, and some hot biscuits." "good gracious! let's see!" so then the story teller looks, and, sure enough, there they are, and more things, too; and pretty soon the little lady and he go down to a very quiet place under some hemlock-trees by a big rock where there is a clear brook and a spring close by, and they sit down, and the little lady spreads the picnic all out--and there is ham too, and bread-and-butter, and doughnuts--and they are so hungry that they eat everything, and both dip into one bowl when they get to huckleberries and cream. then the little lady says: "now tell me about the hollow tree people; they have picnics, too." "sure enough, they do. and i think i'll have to tell you about their very last picnic and what happened." well, once upon a time mr. 'possum said that he was getting tired of sitting down to a table every meal in a close room with the smell of cooking coming in, and if mr. crow would cook up a few things that would taste good cold he'd pack the basket (that is, mr. 'possum would) and mr. 'coon could carry it, and they'd go out somewhere and eat their dinner in a nice place under the trees. mr. 'coon said he knew a pleasant place to go, and mr. crow said he'd cook one of mr. man's chickens, which mr. 'possum had brought home the night before, though it would take time, he said, because it was pretty old--mr. 'possum having picked it out in the dark in a hurry. so then they all flew around and put away things, and mr. crow got the chicken on while mr. 'coon sliced the bread and mr. 'possum cut the cake, which they had been saving for sunday, and he picked out a pie too, and a nice book to read which mr. crow had found lying in mr. man's yard while the folks were at dinner. then he packed the basket all neat and nice, and ate a little piece of the cake when mr. 'coon had stepped out to see how the chicken was coming along, and when the chicken was ready he cut it all up nicely, and he tasted of that a little, too, while mr. crow was getting on his best picnic things to go. and pretty soon they all started out, and it was so bright and sunny that mr. 'possum began to sing a little, and mr. 'coon told him not to make a noise like that or they'd have company--mr. dog or mr. fox or somebody--when there was only just enough chicken for themselves, which made mr. 'possum stop right away. and before long they came to a very quiet place under some thick hemlock-trees behind a stone wall and close to a brook of clear water. [illustration: and he tasted of that a little, too] that was the place mr. 'coon had thought of, and they sat down there and spread out all the things on some moss, and everything looked so nice that mr. 'possum said they ought to come here every day and eat dinner as long as the hot weather lasted. then they were all so hungry that they began on the chicken right away, and mr. 'possum said that maybe he _might_ have picked out a tenderer one, but that he didn't think he could have found a bigger one, or one that would have lasted longer, and that, after all, size and lasting were what one needed for a picnic. so they ate first one thing and then another, and mr. 'coon asked if they remembered the time mr. dog had come to one of their picnics before they were friends with him, when he'd really been invited to stay away; and they all laughed when they thought how mr. rabbit had excused himself, and the others, too, one after another, until mr. dog had the picnic mostly to himself. and by-and-by the hollow tree people lit their pipes and smoked, and mr. 'possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep, and dreamed, and had a kind of a nightmare about that other picnic, and talked in his sleep about it, which made mr. 'coon think of something to do. so then mr. 'coon got some long grass and made a strong band of it and very carefully tied mr. 'possum to the tree, and just as mr. 'possum began to have his dream again and was saying "oh! oh! here comes mr. dog!" mr. 'coon gave three loud barks right in mr. 'possum's ear, and mr. crow said "wake up! wake up, mr. 'possum! here he comes!" [illustration: mr. 'possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep] and mr. 'possum did wake up, and jumped and jerked at that band, and holloed out as loud as he could: "oh, please let me go, mr. dog! oh, please let me go, mr. dog!" for he thought it was mr. dog that had him, and he forgot all about them being friends. but just then he happened to see mr. crow and mr. 'coon rolling on the ground and laughing, and he looked down to see what had him and found he was tied to a tree, and he knew that they had played a joke on him. that made him pretty mad at first, and he said if he ever got loose he'd pay them back for their smartness. then mr. 'coon told him he most likely never would get loose if he didn't promise not to do anything, so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. 'coon untied him. mr. 'possum said he guessed the chicken must have been pretty hard to digest, and he knew it was pretty salt, for he was dying for a good cold drink. then mr. 'coon said he knew where there was a spring over beyond the wall that had colder water than the brook, and he'd show them the way to it. so they climbed over the wall and slipped through the bushes to the spring, and all took a nice cold drink, and just as they raised their heads from drinking they heard somebody say something. and they all kept perfectly still and listened, and they heard it again, just beyond some bushes. [illustration: so mr. 'possum promised, and mr. 'coon untied him] so then they crept softly in among the green leaves and branches and looked through, and what do you think they saw? the story teller turns to the little lady, who seems a good deal excited. "why, why, what did they see?" she says. "tell me, quick!" "why," the story teller goes on, "they saw the little lady and the story teller having a picnic too, with all the nice things spread out by a rock, under the hemlock-trees." "oh," gasps the little lady, "did they really see us? and are they there now?" "they might be," says the story teller. "the hollow tree people slip around very softly. anyway, they were there then, and it was the first time they had ever seen the little lady and the story teller so close. and they watched them until they were all through with their picnic and had gathered up their things. then the 'coon and the 'possum and old black crow slipped away again, and crept over the wall and gathered up their own things and set out for home very happy." the little lady grasps the story teller's hand. "let's go and see their picnic place!" she says. "they may be there now." [illustration: "and what do you think they saw?"] so the little lady and the story teller go softly down to the spring and get a drink; then they creep across to the mossy stone wall and peer over, and there, sure enough, is a green mossy place in the shade, the very place to spread a picnic; and the little lady jumps and says "oh!" for she sees something brown whisk into the bushes. anyhow, she knows the hollow tree people have been there, for there is a little piece of paper on the moss which they must have used to wrap up something, and she thinks they most likely heard her coming and are just gone. so the story teller lifts her over the wall, and they sit down on the green moss of the hollow tree picnic place, and she leans up against him and listens to the singing of the brook, and the story teller sings softly too, until by-and-by the little lady is asleep. and it may be, as they sit there and drowse and dream, that the hollow tree people creep up close and watch them. who knows? [illustration] * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. repeated chapter titles were deleted to avoid repetition for the reader. page , "t" changed to "it" (enjoyed it as much as) page , "were" changed to "where" (from where he lived) page , "pleasan" changed to "pleasant" (pleasant work) the prince of graustark by george barr mccutcheon author of "graustark", "beverly of graustark," etc. with illustrations by a.i. keller contents chapter i mr. and mrs. blithers discuss matrimony ii two countries discuss marriage iii mr. blithers goes visiting iv protecting the blood v prince robin is asked to stand up vi the prince and mr. blithers vii a letter from maud viii on board the jupiter ix the prince meets miss guile x an hour on deck xi the lieutenant receives orders xii the lieutenant reports xiii the red letter b xiv the cat is away xv the mice in a trap xvi three messages xvii the prodigal daughter xviii a word of encouragement xix "what will my people do" xx love in abeyance xxi mr. blithers arrives in graustark xxii a visit to the castle xxiii pingari's xiv just what might have been expected illustrations her eyes were starry bright, her red lips were parted. _frontispiece_ "you will be her choice," said the other, without the quiver of an eye-lash. "i shall pray for continuous rough weather." the dignified ministry of graustark sat agape. chapter i mr. and mrs. blithers discuss matrimony "my dear," said mr. blithers, with decision, "you can't tell me." "i know i can't," said his wife, quite as positively. she knew when she could tell him a thing and when she couldn't. it was quite impossible to impart information to mr. blithers when he had the tips of two resolute fingers embedded in his ears. that happened to be his customary and rather unfair method of conquering her when an argument was going against him, not for want of logic on his part, but because it was easier to express himself with his ears closed than with them open. by this means he effectually shut out the voice of opposition and had the discussion all to himself. of course, it would have been more convincing if he had been permitted to hear the sound of his own eloquence; still, it was effective. she was sure to go on talking for two or three minutes and then subside in despair. a woman will not talk to a stone wall. nor will she wantonly allow an argument to die while there remains the slightest chance of its survival. given the same situation, a man would get up and leave his wife sitting there with her fingers in her ears; and, as he bolted from the room in high dudgeon, he would be mean enough to call attention to her pig-headedness. in most cases, a woman is content to listen to a silly argument rather than to leave the room just because her husband elects to be childish about a perfectly simple elucidation of the truth. mrs. blithers had lived with mr. blithers, more or less, for twenty-five years and she knew him like a book. he was a forceful person who would have his own way, even though he had to put his fingers in his ears to get it. at one period of their joint connubial agreement, when he had succeeded in accumulating a pitiful hoard amounting to but little more than ten millions of dollars, she concluded to live abroad for the purpose of educating their daughter, allowing him in the meantime to increase his fortune to something like fifty millions without having to worry about household affairs. but she had sojourned with him long enough, at odd times, to realise that, so long as he lived, he would never run away from an argument--unless, by some dreadful hook or crook, he should be so unfortunate as to be deprived of the use of both hands. she found room to gloat, of course, in the fact that he was obliged to stop up his ears in order to shut out the incontrovertible. moreover, when he called her "my dear" instead of the customary lou, it was a sign of supreme obstinacy on his part and could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be regarded as an indication of placid affection. he always said "my dear" at the top of his voice and with a great deal of irascibility. mr. william w. blithers was a self-made man who had begun his career by shouting lustily at a team of mules in a railway construction camp. other drivers had tried to improve on his vocabulary but even the mules were able to appreciate the futility of such an ambition, and later on, when he came to own two or three railroads, to say nothing of a few mines and a steam yacht, his ability to drive men was even more noteworthy than his power over the jackasses had been. but driving mules and men was one thing, driving a wife another. what incentive has a man, said he, when after he gets through bullying a creature that very creature turns in and caresses him? no self-respecting mule ever did such a thing as that, and no man would think of it except with horror. there is absolutely no defence against a creature who will rub your head with loving, gentle fingers after she has worked you up to the point where you could kill her with pleasure--or at least so said mr. blithers with rueful frequency. mr. and mrs. blithers had been discussing royalty. up to the previous week they had restricted themselves to the nobility, but as an event of unexampled importance had transpired in the interim, they now felt that it would be the rankest stupidity to consider any one short of a prince royal in picking out a suitable husband--or, more properly speaking, consort--for their only daughter, maud applegate blithers, aged twenty. mrs. blithers long ago had convinced her husband that no ordinary human being of the male persuasion was worthy of their daughter's hand, and had set her heart on having nothing meaner than a duke on the family roll,--(blithers alluded to it for a while as the pay-roll)--, with the choice lying between england and italy. at first, blithers, being an honest soul, insisted that a good american gentleman was all that anybody could ask for in the way of a son-in-law, and that when it came to a grandchild it would be perfectly proper to christen him duke--lots of people did!--and that was about all that a title amounted to anyway. she met this with the retort that maud might marry a man named jones, and how would duke jones sound? he weakly suggested that they could christen him marmaduke and--but she reminded him of his oft-repeated boast that there was nothing in the world too good for maud and instituted a pictorial campaign against his prejudices by painting in the most alluring colours the picture of a ducal palace in which the name of jones would never be uttered except when employed in directing the fifth footman or the third stable-boy--or perhaps a scullery maid--to do this, that or the other thing at the behest of her grace, the daughter of william w. blithers. this eventually worked on his imagination to such an extent that he forgot his natural pride and admitted that perhaps she was right. but now, just as they were on the point of accepting, in lieu of a duke, an exceptionally promising count, the aforesaid event conspired to completely upset all of their plans--or notions, so to speak. it was nothing less than the arrival in america of an eligible prince of the royal blood, a ruling prince at that. as a matter of fact he had not only arrived in america but upon the vast estate adjoining their own in the catskills. fortunately nothing definite had been arranged with the count. mrs. blithers now advised waiting a while before giving a definite answer to his somewhat eager proposal, especially as he was reputed to have sufficient means of his own to defend the chateau against any immediate peril of profligacy. she counselled mr. blithers to notify him that he deemed it wise to take the matter under advisement for a couple of weeks at least, but not to commit himself to anything positively negative. mr. blithers said that he had never heard anything so beautifully adroit as "positively negative," and directed his secretary to submit to him without delay the draft of a tactful letter to the anxious nobleman. they were agreed that a prince was more to be desired than a count and, as long as they were actually about it, they might as well aim high. somewhat hazily mr. blithers had inquired if it wouldn't be worth while to consider a king, but his wife set him straight in short order. peculiarly promising their hopes was the indisputable fact that the prince's mother had married an american, thereby establishing a precedent behind which no constitutional obstacle could thrive, and had lived very happily with the gentleman in spite of the critics. moreover, she had met him while sojourning on american soil, and that was certainly an excellent augury for the success of the present enterprise. what could be more fitting than that the son should follow in the footsteps of an illustrious mother? if an american gentleman was worthy of a princess, why not the other way about? certainly maud blithers was as full of attributes as any man in america. it appears that the prince, after leisurely crossing the continent on his way around the world, had come to the truxton kings for a long-promised and much-desired visit, the duration of which depended to some extent on his own inclinations, and not a little on the outcome of the war-talk that affected two great european nations--russia and austria. ever since the historic war between the balkan allies and the turks, in and , there had been mutterings, and now the situation had come to be admittedly precarious. mr. blithers was in a position to know that the little principality over which the young man reigned was bound to be drawn into the cataclysm, not as a belligerent or an ally, but in the matter of a loan that inconveniently expired within the year and which would hardly be renewed by russia with the prospect of vast expenditures of war threatening her treasury. the loan undoubtedly would be called and graustark was not in a position to pay out of her own slender resources, two years of famine having fallen upon the people at a time when prosperity was most to be desired. he was in touch with the great financial movements in all the world's capitals, and he knew that retrenchment was the watchword. it would be no easy matter for the little principality to negotiate a loan at this particular time, nor was there even a slender chance that russia would be benevolently disposed toward her debtors, no matter how small their obligations. they who owed would be called upon to pay, they who petitioned would be turned away with scant courtesy. it was the private opinion of mr. blithers that the young prince and the trusted agents who accompanied him on his journey, were in the united states solely for the purpose of arranging a loan through sources that could only be reached by personal appeal. but, naturally, mr. blithers couldn't breathe this to a soul. under the circumstances he couldn't even breathe it to his wife who, he firmly believed, was soulless. but all this is beside the question. the young prince of graustark was enjoying american hospitality, and no matter what he owed to russia, america owed to him its most punctillious consideration. if mr. blithers was to have anything to say about the matter, it would be for the ear of the prince alone and not for the busybodies. the main point is that the prince was now rusticating within what you might call a stone's throw of the capacious and lordly country residence of mr. blithers; moreover, he was an uncommonly attractive chap, with a laugh that was so charged with heartiness that it didn't seem possible that he could have a drop of royal blood in his vigorous young body. and the perfectly ridiculous part of the whole situation was that mr. and mrs. king lived in a modest, vine-covered little house that could have been lost in the servants' quarters at blitherwood. especially aggravating, too, was the attitude of the kings. they were really nobodies, so to speak, and yet they blithely called their royal guest "bobby" and allowed him to fetch and carry for their women-folk quite as if he were an ordinary whipper-snapper up from the city to spend the week-end. the remark with which mr. blithers introduces this chapter was in response to an oft-repeated declaration made by his wife in the shade of the red, white and blue awning of the terrace overlooking, from its despotic heights, the modest red roof of the king villa in the valley below. mrs. blithers merely had stated--but over and over again--that money couldn't buy everything in the world, referring directly to social eminence and indirectly to their secret ambition to capture a prince of the royal blood for their daughter maud. she had prefaced this opinion, however, with the exceedingly irritating insinuation that mr. blithers was not in his right mind when he proposed inviting the prince to spend a few weeks at blitherwood, provided the young man could cut short his visit in the home of mr. and mrs. king, who, he had asseverated, were not in a position to entertain royalty as royalty was in the habit of being entertained. long experience had taught mr. blithers to read the lip and eye language with some degree of certainty, so by watching his wife's indignant face closely he was able to tell when she was succumbing to reason. he was a burly, domineering person who reasoned for every one within range of his voice, and it was only when his wife became coldly sarcastic that he closed his ears and boomed his opinions into her very teeth, so to say, joyfully overwhelming her with facts which it were futile for her to attempt to deny. he was aware, quite as much so as if he had heard the words, that she was now saying: "well, there is absolutely no use arguing with you, will. have it your way if it pleases you." eying her with some uneasiness, he cautiously inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his brocaded waistcoat, and proclaimed: "as i said before, lou, there isn't a foreign nobleman, from the emperor down, who is above grabbing a few million dollars. they're all hard up, and what do they gain by marrying ladies of noble birth if said ladies are the daughters of noblemen who are as hard up as all the rest of 'em? besides, hasn't maud been presented at court? didn't you see to that? how about that pearl necklace i gave her when she was presented? wasn't it the talk of the season? there wasn't a duke in england who didn't figure the cost of that necklace to within a guinea or two. no girl ever had better advertising than--" "we were speaking of prince robin," remarked his wife, with a slight shudder. mrs. blithers came of better stock than her husband. his gaucheries frequently set her teeth on edge. she was born in providence and sometimes mentioned the occurrence when particularly desirous of squelching him, not unkindly perhaps but by way of making him realise that their daughter had good blood in her veins. mr. blithers had heard, in a round-about way, that he first saw the light of day in jersey city, although after he became famous newark claimed him. he did not bother about the matter. "well, he's like all the rest of them," said he, after a moment of indecision. something told him that he really ought to refrain from talking about the cost of things, even in the bosom of his family. he had heard that only vulgarians speak of their possessions. "now, there's no reason in the world why we shouldn't consider his offer. he--" "offer?" she cried, aghast. "he has made no offer, will. he doesn't even know that maud is in existence. how can you say such a thing?" "i was merely looking ahead, that's all. my motto is 'look ahead.' you know it as well as i do. where would i be to-day if i hadn't looked ahead and seen what was going to happen before the other fellow had his eyes open? will you tell me that? where, i say? what's more, where would i be now if i hadn't looked ahead and seen what a marriage with the daughter of judge morton would mean to me in the long run?" he felt that he had uttered a very pretty and convincing compliment. "i never made a bad bargain in my life, lou, and it wasn't guess-work when i married you. you, my dear old girl, you were the solid foundation on which i--" "i know," she said wearily; "you've said it a thousand times: 'the foundation on which i built my temple of posterity'--yes, i know, will. but i am still unalterably opposed to making ourselves ridiculous in the eyes of mr. and mrs. king." "ridiculous? i don't understand you." "well, you will after you think it over," she said quietly, and he scowled in positive perplexity. "don't you think he'd be a good match for maud?" he asked, after many minutes. he felt that he had thought it over. "are you thinking of kidnapping him, will?" she demanded. "certainly not! but all you've got to do is to say that he's the man for maud and i'll--i'll do the rest. that's the kind of a man i am, lou. you say you don't want count what's-his-name,--that is, you don't want him as much as you did,--and you do say that it would be the grandest thing in the world if maud could be the princess of grosstick--" "graustark, will." "that's what i said. well, if you want her to be the princess of _that_, i'll see that she is, providing this fellow is a gentleman and worthy of _her_. the only prince i ever knew was a damned rascal, and i'm going to be careful about this one. you remember that measly--" "there is no question about prince robin," said she sharply. "i suppose the only question is, how much will he want?" "you mean--settlement?" "sure." "have you no romance in your soul, william blithers?" "i never believed in fairy stories," said he grimly. "and what's more, i don't take any stock in cheap novels in which american heroes go about marrying into royal families and all that sort of rot. it isn't done, lou. if you want to marry into a royal family you've got to put up the coin." "prince robin's mother, the poor princess yetive, married an american for love, let me remind you." "umph! where is this groostock anyway?" "'somewhere east of the setting sun,'" she quoted. "you _must_ learn how to pronounce it." "i never was good at foreign languages. by the way, where is maud this afternoon?" "motoring." he waited for additional information. it was not vouchsafed, so he demanded somewhat fearfully: "who with?" "young scoville." he scowled. "he's a loafer, lou. no good in the world. i don't like the way you let--" "he is of a very good family, my dear. i--" "is he--er--in love with her?" "certainly." "good lord!" "and why not? isn't every one she meets in love with her?" "i--i suppose so," he admitted sheepishly. his face brightened. "and there's no reason why this prince shouldn't fall heels over head, is there? well, there you are! that will make a difference in the settlement, believe me--a difference of a couple of millions at least, if--" she arose abruptly. "you are positively disgusting, will. can't you think of anything but--" "say, ain't that maudie coming up the drive now? sure it is! by gracious, did you ever see anything to beat her? she's got 'em all beat a mile when it comes to looks and style and--oh, by the way," lowering his voice to a hoarse, confidential whisper, "--i wouldn't say anything to her about the marriage just yet if i were you. i want to look him over first." chapter ii two countries discuss marriage prince robin of graustark was as good-looking a chap as one would see in a week's journey. little would one suspect him of being the descendant of a long and distinguished line of princes, save for the unmistakeable though indefinable something in his eye that exacted rather than invited the homage of his fellow man. his laugh was a free and merry one, his spirits as effervescent as wine, his manner blithe and boyish; yet beneath all this fair and guileless exposition of carelessness lay the sober integrity of caste. it looked out through the steady, unswerving eyes, even when they twinkled with mirth; it met the gaze of the world with a serene imperiousness that gave way before no mortal influence; it told without boastfulness a story of centuries. for he was the son of a princess royal, and the blood of ten score rulers of men had come down to him as a heritage of strength. his mother, the beautiful, gracious and lamented yetive, set all royal circles by the ears when she married the american, lorry, back in the nineties. a special act of the ministry had legalised this union and the son of the american was not deprived of his right to succeed to the throne which his forebears had occupied for centuries. from his mother he had inherited the right of kings, from his father the spirit of freedom; from his mother the power of majesty, from his father the power to see beyond that majesty. when little more than a babe in arms he was orphaned and the affairs of state fell upon the shoulders of three loyal and devoted men who served as regents until he became of age. wisely they served both him and the people through the years that intervened between the death of the princess and her consort and the day when he reached his majority. that day was a glorious one in graustark. the people worshipped the little prince when he was in knickerbockers and played with toys; they saw him grow to manhood with hearts that were full of hope and contentment; they made him their real ruler with the same joyous spirit that had attended him in the days when he sat in the great throne and "made believe" that he was one of the mighty, despite the fact that his little legs barely reached to the edge of the gold and silver seat,--and slept soundly through all the befuddling sessions of the cabinet. he was seven when the great revolt headed by count marlanx came so near to overthrowing the government, and he behaved like the prince that he was. it was during those perilous times that he came to know the gallant truxton king in whose home he was now a happy guest. but before truxton king he knew the lovely girl who became the wife of that devoted adventurer, and who, to him, was always to be "aunt loraine." as a very small boy he had paid two visits to the homeland of his father, but after the death of his parents his valuable little person was guarded so jealously by his subjects that not once had he set foot beyond the borders of graustark, except on two widely separated occasions of great pomp and ceremony at the courts of vienna and st. petersburgh, and a secret journey to london when he was seventeen. (it appears that he was determined to see a great football match.) on each of these occasions he was attended by watchful members of the cabinet and certain military units in the now far from insignificant standing army. as a matter of fact, he witnessed the football match from the ordinary stands, surrounded by thousands of unsuspecting britons, but carefully wedged in between two generals of his own army and flanked by a minister of police, a minister of the treasury and a minister of war, all of whom were excessively bored by the contest and more or less appalled by his unregal enthusiasm. he had insisted on going to the match incog, to enjoy it for all it was worth to the real spectators--those who sit or stand where the compression is not unlike that applied to a box of sardines. the regency expired when he was twenty years of age, and he became ruler in fact, of himself as well as of the half-million subjects who had waited patiently for the great day that was to see him crowned and glorified. not one was there in that goodly half million who stood out against him on that triumphant day; not one who possessed a sullen or resentful heart. he was their prince, and they loved him well. after that wonderful coronation day he would never forget that he was a prince or that the hearts of a half million were to throb with love for him so long as he was man as well as prince. mr. blithers was very close to the truth when he said (to himself, if you remember) that the financial situation in the far-off principality was not all that could be desired. it is true that graustark was in russia's debt to the extent of some twenty million gavvos,--about thirty millions of dollars, in other words,--and that the day of reckoning was very near at hand. the loan was for a period of twelve years, and had been arranged contrary to the advice of john tullis, an american financier who long had been interested in the welfare of the principality through friendship for the lamented prince consort, lorry. he had been farsighted enough to realise that russia would prove a hard creditor, even though she may have been sincere in her protestations of friendship for the modest borrower. a stubborn element in the cabinet overcame his opposition, however, and the debt was contracted, taxation increased by popular vote and a period of governmental thriftiness inaugurated. railroads, highways, bridges and aqueducts were built, owned and controlled by the state, and the city of edelweiss rebuilt after the devastation created during the revolt of count marlanx and his minions. there seemed to be some prospect of vindication for the ministry and tullis, who lived in edelweiss, was fair-minded enough to admit that their action appeared to have been for the best. the people had prospered and taxes were paid in full and without complaint. the reserve fund grew steadily and surely and there was every prospect that when the huge debt came due it would be paid in cash. but on the very crest of their prosperity came adversity. for two years the crops failed and a pestilence swept through the herds. the flood of gavvos that had been pouring into the treasury dwindled into a pitiful rivulet; the little that came in was applied, of necessity, to administration purposes and the maintenance of the army, and there was not so much as a penny left over for the so-called sinking fund. a year of grace remained. the minister of finance had long since recovered from the delusion that it would be easy to borrow from england or france to pay the russians, there being small prospect of a renewal by the czar even for a short period at a higher rate of interest. the great nations of europe made it plain to the little principality that they would not put a finger in russia's pie at this stage of the game. russia was ready to go to war with her great neighbour, austria. diplomacy--caution, if you will,--made it imperative that other nations should sit tight and look to their own knitting, so to say. not one could afford to be charged with befriending, even in a round-about way, either of the angry grumblers. it was only too well known in diplomatic circles that russia coveted the railroads of graustark, as a means of throwing troops into a remote and almost impregnable portion of austria. if the debt were paid promptly, it would be impossible, according to international law, for the great white bear to take over these roads and at least a portion of the western border of the principality. obviously, austria would be benefitted by the prompt lifting of the debt, but her own relations with russia were so strained that an offer to come to the rescue of graustark would be taken at once as an open affront and vigorously resented. her hands were tied. the northern and western parts of graustark were rich with productive mines. the government had built railroads throughout these sections so that the yield of coal and copper might be given an outlet to the world at large. in making the loan, russia had demanded these prosperous sections as security for the vast sum advanced, and graustark in an evil hour had submitted, little suspecting the trick that dame nature was to play in the end. private banking institutions in europe refused to make loans under the rather exasperating circumstances, preferring to take no chances. money was not cheap in these bitter days, neither in europe nor america. caution was the watchword. a vast european war was not improbable, despite the sincere efforts on the part of the various nations to keep out of the controversy. nor was mr. blithers far from right in his shrewd surmise that prince robin and his agents were not without hope in coming to america at this particular time. graustark had laid by barely half the amount required to lift the debt to russia. it was not beyond the bounds of reason to expect her prince to secure the remaining fifteen millions through private sources in new york city. six weeks prior to his arrival in new york, the young prince landed in san francisco. he had come by way of the orient, accompanied by the chief of staff of the graustark army, count quinnox,--hereditary watch-dog to the royal family!--and a young lieutenant of the guard, boske dank. two men were they who would have given a thousand lives in the service of their prince. no less loyal was the body-servant who looked after the personal wants of the eager young traveller, an englishman of the name of hobbs. a very poor valet was he, but an exceptionally capable person when it came to the checking of luggage and the divining of railway time-tables. he had been an agent for cook's. it was quite impossible to miss a train that hobbs suspected of being the right one. prince robin came unheralded and traversed the breadth of the continent without attracting more than the attention that is bestowed upon good-looking young men. like his mother, nearly a quarter of a century before, he travelled incognito. but where she had used the somewhat emphatic name of guggenslocker, he was known to the hotel registers as "mr. r. schmidt and servant." there was romance in the eager young soul of prince robin. he revelled in the love story of his parents. the beautiful princess yetive first saw grenfell lorry in an express train going eastward from denver. their wonderful romance was born, so to speak, in a pullman compartment car, and it thrived so splendidly that it almost upset a dynasty, for never--in all of nine centuries--had a ruler of graustark stooped to marriage with a commoner. and so when the far-sighted ministry and house of nobles in graustark set about to select a wife for their young ruler, they made overtures to the prince of dawsbergen whose domain adjoined graustark on the south. the crown princess of dawsbergen, then but fifteen, was the unanimous choice of the amiable match-makers in secret conclave. this was when robin was seventeen and just over being fatuously in love with his middle-aged instructress in french. the prince of dawsbergen despatched an embassy of noblemen to assure his neighbour that the match would be highly acceptable to him and that in proper season the betrothal might be announced. but alack! both courts overlooked the fact that there was independent american blood in the two young people. neither the prince of graustark nor the crown princess of dawsbergen,--whose mother was a miss beverly calhoun of virginia,--was disposed to listen to the voice of expediency; in fact, at a safe distance of three or four hundred miles, the youngsters figuratively turned up their noses at each other and frankly confessed that they hated each other and wouldn't be bullied into getting married, no matter what _anybody_ said, or something of the sort. "s'pose i'm going to say i'll marry a girl i've never seen?" demanded seventeen-year-old robin, full of wrath. "not i, my lords. i'm going to look about a bit, if you don't mind. the world is full of girls. i'll marry the one i happen to want or i'll not marry at all." "but, highness," they protested, "you must listen to reason. there must be a successor to the throne of graustark. you would not have the name die with you. the young princess is--" "is fifteen you say," he interrupted loftily. "come around in ten years and we'll talk it over again. but i'm not going to pledge myself to marry a child in short frocks, name or no name. is she pretty?" the lords did not know. they had not seen the young lady. "if she is pretty you'd be sure to know it, my lords, so we'll assume she isn't. i saw her when she was three years old, and she certainly was a fright when she cried, and, my lords, she cried all the time. no, i'll not marry her. be good enough to say to the prince of dawsbergen that i'm very much obliged to him, but it's quite out of the question." and the fifteen-year-old crown princess, four hundred miles away, coolly informed her doting parents that she was tired of being a princess anyway and very much preferred marrying some one who lived in a cottage. in fine, she stamped her little foot and said she'd jump into the river before she'd marry the prince of graustark. "but he's a very handsome, adorable boy," began her mother. "and half-american just as you are, my child," put in her father encouragingly. "nothing could be more suitable than--" "i don't intend to marry anybody until i'm thirty at least, so that ends it, daddy,--i mean, your poor old highness." "naturally we do not expect you to be married before you are out of short frocks, my dear," said prince dantan stiffly. "but a betrothal is quite another thing. it is customary to arrange these marriages years before--" "is prince robin in love with me?" "i--ahem!--that's a very silly question. he hasn't seen you since you were a baby. but he _will_ be in love with you, never fear." "he may be in love with some one else, for all we know, so where do i come in?" "come in?" gasped her father. "she's part american, dear," explained the mother, with her prettiest smile. "besides," said the crown princess, with finality, "i'm not even going to be engaged to a man i've never seen. and if you insist, i'll run away as sure as anything." and so the matter rested. five years have passed since the initial overtures were made by the two courts, and although several sly attempts were made to bring the young people to a proper understanding of their case, they aroused nothing more than scornful laughter on the part of the belligerents, as the venerable baron dangloss was wont to call them, not without pride in his sharp old voice. "it all comes from mixing the blood," said the prime minister gloomily. "or improving it," said the baron, and was frowned upon. and no one saw the portentous shadow cast by the slim daughter of william w. blithers, for the simple reason that neither graustark nor dawsbergen knew that it existed. they lived in serene ignorance of the fact that god, while he was about it, put maud applegate blithers into the world on precisely the same day that the crown princess of dawsbergen first saw the light of day. on the twenty-second anniversary of his birth, prince robin fared forth in quest of love and romance, not without hope of adventure, for he was a valorous chap with the heritage of warriors in his veins. said he to himself in dreamy contemplation of the long journey ahead of him: "i will traverse the great highways that my mother trod and i will look for the golden girl sitting by the wayside. she must be there, and though it is a wide world, i am young and my eyes are sharp. i will find her sitting at the roadside eager for me to come, not housed in a gloomy; castle surrounded by the spooks of a hundred ancestors. they who live in castles wed to hate and they who wed at the roadside live to love. fortune attend me! if love lies at the roadside waiting, do not let me pass it by. all the princesses are not inside the castles. some sit outside the gates and laugh with glee, for love is their companion. so away i go, la, la! looking for the princess with the happy heart and the smiling lips! it is a wide world but my eyes are sharp. i shall find my princess." but, alas, for his fine young dream, he found no golden girl at the roadside nor anything that suggested romance. there were happy hearts and smiling lips--and all for him, it would appear--but he passed them by, for his eyes were _sharp_ and his wits awake. and so, at last, he came to gotham, his heart as free as the air he breathed, confessing that his quest had been in vain. history failed to repeat itself. his mother's romance would stand alone and shine without a flicker to the end of time. there could be no counterpart. "well, i had the fun of looking," he philosophised (to himself, for no man knew of his secret project) and grinned with a sort of amused tolerance for the sentimental side of his nature. "i'm a silly ass to have even dreamed of finding her as i passed along, and if i had found her what the deuce could i have done about it anyway? this isn't the day for mediaeval lady-snatching. i dare say i'm just as well off for not having found her. i still have the zest for hunting farther, and there's a lot in that." then aloud: "hobbs, are we on time?" "we are, sir," said hobbs, without even glancing at his watch. the train was passing th street. "to the minute, sir. we will be in in ten minutes, if nothing happens. mr. king will be at the station to meet you, sir. any orders, sir?" "yes, pinch me, hobbs." "pinch your highness?" in amazement. "my word, sir, wot--" "i just want to be sure that the dream is over, hobbs. never mind. you needn't pinch me. i'm awake," and to prove it he stretched his fine young body in the ecstasy of realisation. that night he slept soundly in the catskills. chapter iii mr. blithers goes visiting i repeat: prince robin was as handsome a chap as you'll see in a week's journey. he was just under six feet, slender, erect and strong in the way that a fine blade is strong. his hair was dark and straight, his eyes blue-black, his cheek brown and ruddy with the health of a life well-ordered. nose, mouth and chin were clean-cut and indicative of power, while his brow was broad and smooth, with a surface so serene that it might have belonged to a woman. at first glance you would have taken him for a healthy, eager american athlete, just out of college, but that aforementioned seriousness in his deep-set, thoughtful eyes would have caused you to think twice before pronouncing him a fledgling. he had enjoyed life, he had made the most of his play-days, but always there had hung over his young head the shadow of the cross that would have to be supported to the end of his reign, through thick and thin, through joy and sorrow, through peace and strife. he saw the shadow when he was little more than a baby; it was like a figure striding beside him always; it never left him. he could not be like other boys, for he was a prince, and it was a serious business being a prince! a thousand times, as a lad, he had wished that he could have a few "weeks off" from being what he was and be just a common, ordinary, harum scarum boy, like the "kids" of petrove, the head stableman. he would even have put up with the thrashings they got from their father, just for the sake of enjoying the mischief that purchased the punishment. but alas! no one would ever dream of giving him the lovely "tannings" that other boys got when they were naughty. such joys were not for him; he was mildly reproved and that was all. but his valiant spirit found release in many a glorious though secret encounter with boys both large and small, and not infrequently he sustained severe pummelings at the hands of plebeians who never were quite sure that they wouldn't be beheaded for obliging him in the matter of a "scrap," but who fought like little wild-cats while they were about it. they were always fair fights, for he fought as a boy and not as a prince. he took his lickings like a prince, however, and his victories like a boy. the one thing he wanted to do above all others was to play foot-ball. but they taught him fencing, riding, shooting and tennis instead, for, said they, foot-ball is only to be looked-at, not played,--fine argument, said robin! be that as it may, he was physically intact and bodily perfect. he had no broken nose, smashed ribs, stiff shoulder joints or weak ankles, nor was he toothless. in all his ambitious young life he had never achieved anything more enduring than a bloody nose, a cracked lip or a purple eye, and he had been compelled to struggle pretty hard for even those blessings. and to him the pity of it all was that he was as hard as nails and as strong as a bullock--a sad waste, if one were to believe him in his bitter lamentations. toward the end of his first week at red roof, the summer home of the truxton kings, he might have been found on the broad lawn late one afternoon, playing tennis with his hostess, the lovely and vivacious "aunt loraine." to him, mrs. king would always be "aunt loraine," even as he would never be anything but bobby to her. she was several years under forty and as light and active as a young girl. her smooth cheek glowed with the happiness and thrill of the sport, and he was hard put to hold his own against her, even though she insisted that he play his level best. truxton king, stalwart and lazy, lounged on the turf, umpiring the game, attended by two pretty young girls, a lieutenant in flannels and the ceremonious count quinnox, iron grey and gaunt-faced battleman with the sabre scars on his cheek and the bullet wound in his side. "good work, rainie," shouted the umpire as his wife safely placed the ball far out of her opponent's reach. "hi!" shouted robin, turning on him with a scowl. "you're not supposed to cheer anybody, d' you understand? you're only an umpire." "outburst of excitement, kid," apologised the umpire complacently. "couldn't help it. forty thirty. get busy." "he called him 'kid,'" whispered one of the young girls to the other. "well i heard the prince call mr. king 'truck' a little while ago," whispered the other. "isn't he good-looking?" sighed the first one. they were sisters, very young, and lived in the cottage across the road with their widowed mother. their existence was quite unknown to mr. and mrs. blithers, although the amiable maud was rather nice to them. she had once picked them up in her automobile when she encountered them walking to the station. after that she called them by their christian names and generously asked them to call her maud. it might appear from this that maud suffered somewhat from loneliness in the great house on the hill. the felton girls had known robin a scant three-quarters of an hour and were deeply in love with him. fannie was eighteen and nellie but little more than sixteen. he was their first prince. "whee-ee!" shrilled mrs. king, going madly after a return that her opponent had lobbed over the net. she missed. "deuce," said her husband laconically. a servant was crossing the lawn with a tray of iced drinks. as he neared the recumbent group he paused irresolutely and allowed his gaze to shift toward the road below. then he came on and as he drew alongside the interested umpire he leaned over and spoke in a low tone of voice. "what?" demanded king, squinting. "just coming in the gate, sir," said the footman. king shot a glance over his shoulder and then sat up in astonishment. "good lord! blithers! what the deuce can he be doing here? i say, loraine! hi!" "vantage in," cried his pretty wife, dashing a stray lock from her eyes. mr. king's astonishment was genuine. it might better have been pronounced bewilderment. mr. blithers was paying his first visit to red roof. up to this minute it is doubtful if he ever had accorded it so much as a glance of interest in passing. he bowed to king occasionally at the station, but that was all. but now his manner was exceedingly friendly as he advanced upon the group. one might have been pardoned for believing him to be a most intimate friend of the family and given to constantly dropping in at any and all hours of the day. the game was promptly interrupted. it would not be far from wrong to say that mrs. king's pretty mouth was open not entirely as an aid to breathing. she couldn't believe her eyes as she slowly abandoned her court and came forward to meet their advancing visitor. "take my racket, dear," she said to one of the peltons, it happened to be fannie and the poor child almost fainted with joy. the prince remained in the far court, idly twirling his racket. "afternoon, king," said mr. blithers, doffing his panama--to fan a heated brow. "been watching the game from the road for a spell. out for a stroll. couldn't resist running in for a minute. you play a beautiful game, mrs. king. how do you do! pretty hot work though, isn't it?" he was shaking hands with king and smiling genially upon the trim, panting figure of the prince's adversary. "good afternoon, mr. blithers," said king, still staring. "you--you know my wife?" mr. blithers ignored what might have been regarded as an introduction, and blandly announced that tennis wasn't a game for fat people, patting his somewhat aggressive extension in mock dolefulness as he spoke. "you should see my daughter play," he went on, scarcely heeding mrs. king's tactless remark that she affected the game because she had a horror of getting fat. "corking, she is, and as quick as a cat. got a medal at lakewood last spring. i'll fix up a match soon, mrs. king, between you and maud. ought to be worth going miles to see, eh, king?" "oh, i am afraid, mr. blithers, that i am not in your daughter's class," said loraine king, much too innocently. "we've got a pretty fair tennis court up at blitherwood," said mr. blithers calmly. "i have a professional instructor up every week to play with maud. she can trim most of the amateurs so--" "may i offer you a drink of some kind, mr. blithers?" asked king, recovering his poise to some extent. "we are having lemonades, but perhaps you'd prefer something--" "lemonade will do for me, thanks," said the visitor affably. "we ought to run in on each other a little more often than--thanks! by jove, it looks refreshing. your health, mrs. king. too bad to drink a lady's health in lemonade but--the sentiment's the same." he was looking over her shoulder at the bounding prince in the far court as he spoke, and it seemed that he held his glass a trifle too high in proposing the toast. "i beg your pardon, mr. blithers," mumbled king. "permit me to introduce count quinnox and lieutenant dank." both of the foreigners had arisen and were standing very erect and soldierly a few yards away. "you know miss felton, of course." "delighted to meet you, count," said mr. blithers, advancing with outstretched hand. he shook the hand of the lieutenant with a shade less energy. "enjoying the game?" "immensely," said the count. "it is rarely played so well." mr. blithers affected a most degage manner, squinting carelessly at the prince. "that young chap plays a nice game. who is he?" the two graustarkians stiffened perceptibly, and waited for king to make the revelation to his visitor. "that's prince robin of--" he began but mr. blithers cut him short with a genial wave of the hand. "of course," he exclaimed, as if annoyed by his own stupidity. "i did hear that you were entertaining a prince. slipped my mind, however. well, well, we're coming up in the world, eh?--having a real nabob among us." he hesitated for a moment. "but don't let me interrupt the game," he went on, as if expecting king to end the contest in order to present the prince to him. "won't you sit down, mr. blithers?" said mrs. king. "or would you prefer a more comfortable chair on the porch? we--" "no, thanks, i'll stay here if you don't mind," said he hastily, and dragged up the camp chair that lieutenant dank had been occupying. "fetch another chair, lucas," said king to the servant. "and another glass of lemonade for miss felton." "felton?" queried mr. blithers, sitting down very carefully on the rather fragile chair, and hitching up his white flannel trousers at the knees to reveal a pair of purple socks, somewhat elementary in tone. "we know your daughter, mr. blithers," said little miss nellie eagerly. "i was just trying to remember--" "we live across the road--over there in the little white house with the ivy--" "--where i'd heard the name," proceeded mr. blithers, still looking at the prince. "by jove, i should think my daughter and the prince would make a rattling good match. i mean," he added, with a boisterous laugh, "a good match at tennis. we'll have to get 'em together some day, eh, up at blitherwood. how long is the prince to be with you, mrs. king?" "it's rather uncertain, mr. blithers," said she, and no more. mr. blithers fanned himself in patience for a moment or two. then he looked at his watch. "getting along toward dinner-time up our way," he ventured. everybody seemed rather intent on the game, which was extremely one-sided. "good work!" shouted king as fannie felton managed to return an easy service. lieutenant dank applauded vigorously. "splendid!" he cried out. "capitally placed!" "they speak remarkably good english, don't they?" said mr. blithers in an audible aside to mrs. king. "beats the deuce how quickly they pick it up." she smiled. "officers in the graustark army are required to speak english, french and german, mr. blithers." "it's a good idea," said he. "maud speaks french and italian like a native. she was educated in paris and rome, you know. fact is, she's lived abroad a great deal." "is she at home now, mr. blithers?" "depends on what you'd call home, mrs. king. we've got so many i don't know just which is the real one. if you mean blitherwood, yes, she's there. course, there's our town house in madison avenue, the place at newport, one at nice and one at pasadena--california, you know--and a little shack in london. by the way, my wife says you live quite near our place in new york." "we live in madison avenue, but it's a rather long street, mr. blithers. just where is your house?" she inquired, rather spitefully. he looked astonished. "you surely must know where the blithers house is at--" "game!" shrieked fannie felton, tossing her racket in the air, a victor. "they're through," said mr. blithers in a tone of relief. he shifted his legs and put his hands on his knees, suggesting a readiness to arise on an instant's notice. "shall we try another set?" called out the prince. "make it doubles," put in lieutenant dank, and turned to nellie. "shall we take them on?" and doubles it was, much to the disgust of mr. blithers. he sat through the nine games, manifesting an interest he was far from feeling, and then--as dusk fell across the valley--arose expectantly with the cry of "game and set." he had discoursed freely on the relative merits of various motor cars, stoutly maintaining that the one he drove was without question the best in the market (in fact, there wasn't another "make" that he would have as a gift); the clubs he belonged to in new york were the only ones that were worth belonging to (he wouldn't be caught dead in any of the others); his tailor was the only tailor in the country who knew how to make a decent looking suit of clothes (the rest of them were "the limit"); the pomeranian that he had given his daughter was the best dog of its breed in the world (he was looking at mrs. king's pomeranian as he made the remark); the tennis court at blitherwood was pronounced by experts to be the finest they'd, ever seen--and so on and so on, until the long-drawn-out set was ended. to his utter amazement, at the conclusion of the game, the four players made a dash for the house without even so much as a glance in his direction. it was the prince who shouted something that sounded like "now for a shower!" as he raced up the terrace, followed by the other participants. mr. blithers said something violent under his breath, but resolutely retained his seat. it was king who glanced slyly at his watch this time, and subsequently shot a questioning look at his wife. she was frowning in considerable perplexity, and biting her firm red lips. count quinnox coolly arose and excused himself with the remark that he was off to dress for dinner. he also looked at his watch, which certainly was an act that one would hardly have expected of a diplomat. "well, well," said mr. blithers profoundly. then he looked at his own watch--and settled back in his chair, a somewhat dogged compression about his jaws. he was not the man to be thwarted. "you certainly have a cosy little place here. king," he remarked after a moment or two. "we like it," said king, twiddling his fingers behind his back. "humble but homelike." "mrs. blithers has been planning to come over for some time, mrs. king. i told her she oughtn't to put it off--be neighbourly, don't you know. that's me. i'm for being neighbourly with my neighbours. but women, they--well, you know how it is, mrs. king. always something turning up to keep 'em from doing the things they want to do most. and mrs. blithers has so many sociable obli--i beg pardon?" "i was just wondering if you would stay and have dinner with us, mr. blithers," said she, utterly helpless. she wouldn't look her husband in the eye--and it was quite fortunate that she was unable to do so, for it would have resulted in a laughing duet that could never have been explained. "why," said mr. blithers, arising and looking at his watch again, "bless my soul, it is _past_ dinner time, isn't it? i had no idea it was so late. 'pon my soul, it's good of you, mrs. king. you see, we have dinner at seven up at blitherwood and--i declare it's half-past now. i don't see where the time has gone. thanks, i _will_ stay if you really mean to be kind to a poor old beggar. don't do anything extra on my account, though, just your regular dinner, you know. no frills, if you please." he looked himself over in some uncertainty. "will this rag of mine do?" "we shan't notice it, mr. blithers," said she, and he turned the remark over in his mind several times as he walked beside her toward the house. somehow it didn't sound just right to him, but for the life of him he couldn't tell why. "we are quite simple folk, you see," she went on desperately, making note of the fact that her husband lagged behind like the coward he was. "red roof is as nothing compared to blitherwood, with its army of servants and--" mr. blithers magnanimously said "pooh!" and, continuing, remarked that he wouldn't say exactly how many they employed but he was sure there were not more than forty, including the gardeners. "besides," he added gallantly, "what is an army of servants compared to the army of grasstock? you've got the real article, mrs. king, so don't you worry. but, i say, if necessary, i can telephone up to the house and have a dress suit sent down. it won't take fifteen minutes, lou--er--mrs. blithers always has 'em laid out for me, in case of an emergency, and--" "pray do not think of it," she cried. "the men change, of course, after they've been playing tennis, but we--we--well, you see, you haven't been playing," she concluded, quite breathlessly. at that instant the sprightly feltons dashed pell mell down the steps and across the lawn homeward, shrieking something unintelligible to mrs. king as they passed. "rather skittish," observed mr. blithers, glaring after them disapprovingly. "they are dears," said mrs. king. "the--er--prince attracted by either one of 'em?" he queried. "he barely knows them, mr. blithers." "i see. shouldn't think they'd appeal to him. rather light, i should say--i mean up here," and he tapped his forehead so that she wouldn't think that he referred to pounds and ounces. "i don't believe maud knows 'em, as the little one said. maud is rather--" "it is possible they have mistaken some one else for your daughter," said she very gently. "impossible," said he with force. "they are coming back here to dinner," she said, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "i shall put you between them, mr. blithers. you will find that they are very bright, attractive girls." "we'll see," said he succinctly. king caught them up at the top of the steps. he seemed to be slightly out of breath. "make yourself at home, mr. blithers. i must get into something besides these duds i'm wearing," he said. "would you like to--er--wash up while we're--" "no, thanks," interposed mr. blithers. "i'm as clean as a whistle. don't mind me, please. run along and dress, both of you. i'll sit out here and--count the minutes," the last with a very elaborate bow to mrs. king. "dinner's at half-past eight," said she, and disappeared. mr. blithers recalled his last glance at his watch, and calculated that he would have at least fifty minutes to count, provided dinner was served promptly on the dot. "you will excuse me if i leave you--" "don't mention it, old man," said the new guest, rather more curtly than he intended. "i'll take it easy." "shall i have the butler telephone to blitherwood to say that you won't be home to dinner?" "it would be better if he were to say that i wasn't home to dinner," said mr. blithers. "it's over by this time." "something to drink while you're--" "no, thanks. i can wait," and he sat down. "you don't mind my--" "not at all." mr. blithers settled himself in the big porch chair and glowered at the shadowy hills on the opposite side of the valley. the little cottage of the feltons came directly in his line of vision. he scowled more deeply than before. at the end of fifteen minutes he started up suddenly and, after a quick uneasy glance about him, started off across the lawn, walking more rapidly than was his wont. he had remembered that his chauffeur was waiting for him with the car just around a bend in the road--and had been waiting for two hours or more. "go home," he said to the man. "come back at twelve. and don't use the cut-out going up that hill, either." later on, he met the prince. very warmly he shook the tall young man's hand,--he even gave it a prophetic second squeeze,--and said: "i am happy to welcome you to the catskills, prince." "thank you," said prince robin. chapter iv protecting the blood "a most extraordinary person," said count quinnox to king, after mr. blithers had taken his departure, close upon the heels of the feltons who were being escorted home by the prince and dank. the venerable graustarkian's heroic face was a study. he had just concluded a confidential hour in a remote corner of the library with the millionaire while the younger people were engaged in a noisy though temperate encounter with the roulette wheel at the opposite end of the room. "i've never met any one like him, mr. king." he mopped his brow, and still looked a trifle dazed. king laughed. "there isn't any one like him, count. he is the one and only blithers." "he is very rich?" "millions and millions," said mrs. king. "didn't he tell you how many?" "i am not quite sure. this daughter of his--is she attractive?" "rather. why?" "he informed me that her dot would be twenty millions if she married the right man. moreover, she is his only heir. 'pon my soul, mrs. king, he quite took my breath away when he announced that he knew all about our predicament in relation to the russian loan. it really sounded quite--you might say significant. does--does he imagine that--good heaven, it's almost stupefying!" king smoked in silence for many seconds. there was a pucker of annoyance on his wife's fair brow as she stared reflectively through the window at the distant lights of blitherwood, far up the mountain side. "sounds ominous to me," said king drily. "is bobby for sale?" the count favoured him with a look of horror. "my dear mr. king!" then as comprehension came, he smiled. "i see. no, he isn't for sale. he is a prince, not a pawn. mr. blithers may be willing to buy but--" he proudly shook his head. "he was feeling you out, however," said king, ruminating. "planting the seed, so to speak." "there is a rumour that she is to marry count lannet," said his wife. "a horrid creature. there was talk in the newspapers last winter of an italian duke. poor girl! from what i hear of her, she is rather a good sort, sensible and more genuinely american in her tastes than might be, expected after her bringing-up. and she _is_ pretty." "how about this young scoville, rainie?" "he's a nice boy but--he'll never get her. she is marked up too high for him. he doesn't possess so much as the title to an acre of land." "extraordinary, the way you americans go after our titles," said the count good-naturedly. "no more extraordinary than the way you europeans go after our money," was her retort. "i don't know which is the cheaper, titles or money in these days," said king. "i understand one can get a most acceptable duke for three or four millions, a nice marquis or count for half as much, and a sir on tick." he eyed the count speculatively. "of course a prince of the royal blood comes pretty high." "pretty high," said the count grimly. he seemed to be turning something over in his mind. "your amazing mr. blithers further confided to me that he might be willing to take care of the russian obligation for us if no one else turns up in time. as a matter of fact, without waiting for my reply, he said that he would have his lawyers look into the matter of security at once. i was somewhat dazed, but i think he said that it would be no trouble at all for him to provide the money himself and he would be glad to accommodate us if we had no other plan in mind. amazing, amazing!" "of course, you told him it was not to be considered," said king sharply. "i endeavoured to do so, but i fear he did not grasp what i was saying. moreover, i tried to tell him that it was a matter i was not at liberty to discuss. he didn't hear that, either." "he is not in the habit of hearing any one but himself, i fear," said king. "i am afraid poor robin is in jeopardy," said his wife, ruefully. "the bogieman is after him." "does the incomprehensible creature imagine--" began the count loudly, and then found it necessary to pull his collar away from his throat as if to save himself from immediate strangulation. "mr. blithers is not blessed with an imagination, count," said she. "he doesn't imagine anything." "if he should presume to insult our prince by--" grated the old soldier, very red in the face and erect--"if he should presume to--" words failed him and an instant later he was laughing, but somewhat uncertainly, with his amused host and hostess. mr. blithers reached home in high spirits. his wife was asleep, but he awoke her without ceremony. "i say, lou, wake up. got some news for you. we'll have a prince in the family before you can say jack robinson." she sat up in bed, blinking with dismay. "in heaven's name, will, what have you been doing? what--_have_ you been--" "cutting bait," said he jovially. "in a day or two i'll throw the hook in, and you'll see what i land. he's as good as caught right now, but we'll let him nibble a while before we jerk. and say, he's a corker, lou. finest young fellow i've seen in many a day. he--" "you don't mean to say that you--you actually said anything to him about--about--oh, my god, will, don't tell me that you were crazy enough to--" cried the poor woman, almost in tears. "now cool down, cool down," he broke in soothingly. "i'm no fool, lou. trust me to do the fine work in a case like this. sow the right kind of seeds and you'll get results every time. i merely dropped a few hints, that's all,--and in the right direction, believe me. count equinox will do the rest. i'll bet my head we'll have this prince running after maud so--" "what _did_ you say?" she demanded. there was a fine moisture on her upper lip. he sat down on the edge of the bed and talked for half an hour without interruption. when he came to the end of his oration, she turned over with her face to the wall and fairly sobbed: "what will the kings think of us? what will they think?" "who the dickens cares what the kings think?" he roared, perfectly aghast at the way she took it. "who are the kings? tell me that! who are they?" "i--i can't bear to talk about it. go to bed." he wiped his brow helplessly. "you beat anything i've ever seen. what's the matter with you? don't you want this prince for maud? well, then, what the deuce are you crying about? you said you wanted him, didn't you? well, i'm going to get him. if i say i'll do a thing, you can bet your last dollar i'll do it. that's the kind of a man william w. blithers is. you leave it to me. there's only one way to land these foreign noblemen, and i'm--" she faced him once more, and angrily. "listen to me," she said. "i've had a talk with maud. she has gone to bed with a splitting headache and i'm not surprised. don't you suppose the poor child has a particle of pride? she guessed at once just what you had gone over there for and she cried her eyes out. now she declares she will never be able to look the prince in the face, and as for the kings--oh, it's sickening. why can't you leave these things to me? you go about like a bull in a china shop. you might at least have waited until the poor child had an opportunity to see the man before rushing in with your talk about money. she--" "confound it, lou, don't blame me for everything. we all three agreed at lunch that he was a better bargain than this measly count we've been considering. maud says she won't marry the count, anyhow, and she _did_ say that if this prince was all that he's cracked up to be, she wouldn't mind being the princess of groostock. you can't deny that, lou. you heard her say it. you--" "she didn't say groostock," said his wife shortly. "and you forget that she said she wouldn't promise anything until she'd met him and decided whether she liked him." "she'll like him all right," said he confidently. "she will refuse to even meet him, if she hears of your silly blunder to-night." "refuse to meet him?" gasped mr. blithers. "i may be able to reason with her, will, but--but she's stubborn, as well you know. i'm afraid you've spoiled everything." his face brightened. lowering his voice to a half-whisper, he said: "we needn't tell her what i said to that old chap, lou. just let her think i sat around like a gump and never said a word to anybody. we can--" "but she'll pin you down, will, and you know you can't lie with a straight face." "maybe--maybe i'd better run down to new york for a few days," he muttered unhappily. "you can square it better than i can." "in other words, i can lie with a straight face," she said ironically. "i never thought she'd balk like this," said he, ignoring the remark. "i fancy you'd better go to new york," she said mercilessly. "i've got business there anyhow," muttered he. "i--i think i'll go before she's up in the morning." "you can save yourself a bad hour or two if you leave before breakfast," said she levelly. "get around her some way, lou," he pleaded. "tell her i'm sorry i had to leave so early, and--and that i love her better than anything on earth, and that i'll be back the end of the week. if--if she wants anything in new york, just have her wire me. you say she cried?" "she did, and i don't blame her." mr. blithers scowled. "well--well, you see if you can do any better than i did. arrange it somehow for them to meet. she'll--she'll like him and then--by george, she'll thank us both for the interest we take in her future. it wouldn't surprise me if she fell in love with him right off the reel. and you may be sure he'll fall in love with her. he can't help it. the knowledge that she'll have fifty millions some day won't have anything to do with his feeling for her, once he--" "don't mention the word millions again. will blithers." "all right," said he, more humbly than he knew, "but listen to this, old girl; i'm going to get this prince for her if it's the last act of my life. i never failed in anything and i won't fail in this." "well, go to bed, dear, and don't worry. i may be able to undo the mischief. it--it isn't hopeless, of course." "i'll trust you, lou, to do your part. count on me to do mine when the time comes. and i still insist that i have sowed the right sort of seed to-night. you'll see. just wait." sure enough, mr. blithers was off for new york soon after daybreak the next morning, and with him went a mighty determination to justify himself before the week was over. his wily brain was working as it had never worked before. two days later, count quinnox received a message from new york bearing the distressing information that the two private banking institutions on which he had been depending for aid in the hour of trouble had decided that it would be impossible for them to make the loan under consideration. the financial agents who had been operating in behalf of the graustark government confessed that they were unable to explain the sudden change of heart on the part of the bankers, inasmuch as the negotiations practically had been closed with them. the decision of the directors was utterly incomprehensible under the circumstances. vastly disturbed, count quinnox took the first train to new york, accompanied by truxton king, who was confident that outside influences had been brought to bear upon the situation, influences inimical to graustark. both were of the opinion that russia had something to do with it, although the negotiations had been conducted with all the secrecy permissible in such cases. "we may be able to get to the banks through blithers," said king. "how could he possibly be of assistance to us?" the count inquired. "he happens to be a director in both concerns, besides being such a power in the financial world that his word is almost law when it comes to the big deals." all the way down to the city count quinnox was thoughtful, even pre-occupied. they were nearing the terminal when he leaned over and, laying his hand on king's knee, said, after a long interval of silence between them: "i suppose you know that graustark has not given up hope that prince robin may soon espouse the daughter of our neighbour, dawsbergen." king gave him a queer look. "by jove, that's odd. i was thinking of that very thing when you spoke." "the union would be of no profit to us in a pecuniary way, my friend," explained the count. "still it is most desirable for other reasons. dawsbergen is not a rich country, nor are its people progressive. the reigning house, however, is an old one and rich in traditions. money, my dear king, is not everything in this world. there are some things it cannot buy. it is singularly ineffective when opposed to an honest sentiment. even though the young princess were to come to graustark without a farthing, she would still be hailed with the wildest acclaim. we are a race of blood worshippers, if i may put it in that way. she represents a force that has dominated our instincts for a great many centuries, and we are bound hand and foot, heart and soul, by the so-called fetters of imperialism. we are fierce men, but we bend the knee and we wear the yoke because the sword of destiny is in the hand that drives us. to-day we are ruled by a prince whose sire was not of the royal blood. i do not say that we deplore this infusion, but it behooves us to protect the original strain. we must conserve our royal blood. our prince assumes an attitude of independence that we find difficult to overcome. he is prepared to defy an old precedent in support of a new one. in other words, he points out the unmistakably happy union of his own mother, the late princess yetive, and the american lorry, and it is something we cannot go behind. he declares that his mother set an example that he may emulate without prejudice to his country if he is allowed a free hand in choosing his mate. "but we people of graustark cannot look with complaisance on the possible result of his search for a sharer of the throne. traditions must be upheld--or we die. true, the crown princess of dawsbergen has american blood in her veins but her sire is a prince royal. her mother, as you know, was an american girl. she who sits on the throne with robin must be a princess by birth or the grip on the sword of destiny is weakened and the dynasty falters. i know what is in your mind. you are wondering why our prince should not wed one of your fabulously rich american girls--" "my dear count," said king warmly, "i am not thinking anything of the sort. naturally i am opposed to your pre-arranged marriages and all that sort of thing, but still i appreciate what it means as a safe-guard to the crown you support. i sincerely hope that robin may find his love-mate in the small circle you draw for him, but i fear it isn't likely. he is young, romantic, impressionable, and he abhors the thought of marriage without love. he refuses to even consider the princess you have picked out for him. time may prove to him that his ideals are false and he may resign himself to the--i was about to say the inevitable." "inevitable is the word, mr. king," said count quinnox grimly. "'pon my word, sir, i don't know what our princes and princesses are coming to in these days. there seems to be a perfect epidemic of independence among them. they marry whom they please in spite of royal command, and the courts of europe are being shorn of half their glory. it wouldn't surprise me to see an american woman on the throne of england one of these days. 'gad, sir, you know what happened in axphain two years ago. her crown prince renounced the throne and married a french singer." "and they say he is a very happy young beggar," said king drily. "it is the prerogative of fools to be happy," said count quinnox. "not so with princes, eh?" "it is a duty with princes, mr. king." they had not been in new york city an hour before they discovered that william w. blithers was the man to whom they would have to appeal if they expected to gain a fresh hearing with the banks. the agents were in a dismal state of mind. the deal had been blocked no later than the afternoon of the day before and at a time when everything appeared to be going along most swimmingly. blithers was the man to see; he and he alone could bring pressure to bear on the directorates that might result in a reconsideration of the surprising verdict. something had happened during the day to alter the friendly attitude of the banks; they were now politely reluctant, as one of the agents expressed it, which really meant that opposition to the loan had appeared from some unexpected source, as a sort of eleventh hour obstacle. the heads of the two banks had as much as said that negotiations were at an end, that was the long and short of it; it really didn't matter what was back of their sudden change of front, the fact still remained that the transaction was as "dead as a door nail" unless it could be revived by the magnetic touch of a man like blithers. "what can have happened to cause them to change their minds so abruptly?" cried the perplexed count. "surely our prime minister and the cabinet have left nothing undone to convince them of graustark's integrity and--" "pardon me. count," interrupted one of the brokers, "shall i try to make an appointment for you with mr. blithers? i hear he is in town for a few days." count quinnox looked to truxton king for inspiration and that gentleman favoured him with a singularly dis-spiriting nod of the head. the old graustarkian cleared his throat and rather stiffly announced that he would receive mr. blithers if he would call on him at the ritz that afternoon. "what!" exclaimed both agents, half-starting from their chairs in amazement. the count stared hard at them. "you may say to him that i will be in at four." "he'll tell you to go to--ahem!" the speaker coughed just in time. "blithers isn't in the habit of going out of his way to--to oblige anybody. he wouldn't do it for the emperor of germany." "but," said the count with a frosty smile, "i am not the emperor of germany." "better let me make an appointment for you to see him at his office. it's just around the corner." there was a pleading note in the speaker's voice. "you might save your face, calvert, by saying that the count will be pleased to have him take tea with him at the ritz," suggested king. "tea!" exclaimed calvert scornfully. "blithers, doesn't drink the stuff." "it's a figure of speech," said king patiently. "all right, i'll telephone," said the other dubiously. he came back a few minutes later with a triumphant look in his eye. "blithers says to tell count quinnox he'll see him to-morrow morning at half-past eight at his office. sorry he's engaged this afternoon." "but did you say i wanted him to have tea with us!" demanded the count, an angry flush leaping to his cheek. "i did. i'm merely repeating what he said in reply. half-past eight, at his office, count. those were his words." "it is the most brazen exhibition of insolence i've ever--" began the count furiously, but checked himself with an effort. "i--i hope you did not say that i would come, sir!" "yes. it's the only way--" "well, be good enough to call him up again and say to him that i'll--i'll see him damned before i'll come to his office to-morrow at eight-thirty or at any other hour." and with that the count got up and stalked out of the office, putting on his hat as he did so. "count," said king, as they descended in the elevator, "i've got an idea in my head that blithers will be at the ritz at four." "do you imagine, sir, that i will receive him?" "certainly. are you not a diplomat?" "i am a minister of war," said the count, and his scowl was an indication of absolute proficiency in the science. "and what's more," went on king, reflectively, "it wouldn't in the least surprise me if blithers is the man behind the directors in this sudden move of the banks." "my dear king, he displayed the keenest interest and sympathy the other night at your house. he--" "of course i may be wrong," admitted king, but his brow was clouded. shortly after luncheon that day, mrs. blithers received a telegram from her husband. it merely stated that he was going up to have tea with the count at four o'clock, and not to worry as "things were shaping themselves nicely." chapter v prince robin is asked to stand up late the same evening. prince robin, at red roof, received a long distance telephone communication from new york city. the count was on the wire. he imparted the rather startling news that william w. blithers had volunteered to take care of the loan out of his own private means! quinnox was cabling the prime minister for advice and would remain in new york for further conference with the capitalist, who, it was to be assumed, would want time to satisfy himself as to the stability of graustark's resources. robin was jubilant. the thought had not entered his mind that there could be anything sinister in this amazing proposition of the great financier. if count quinnox himself suspected mr. blithers of an ulterior motive, the suspicion was rendered doubtful by the evidence of sincerity on the part of the capitalist who professed no sentiment in the matter but insisted on the most complete indemnification by the graustark government. even king was impressed by the absolute fairness of the proposition. mr. blithers demanded no more than the banks were asking for in the shape of indemnity; a first lien mortgage for years on all properties owned and controlled by the government and the deposit of all bonds held by the people with the understanding that the interest would be paid to them regularly, less a small per cent as commission. his protection would be complete,--for the people of graustark owned fully four-fifths of the bonds issued by the government for the construction of public service institutions; these by consent of mr. blithers were to be limited to three utilities: railroads, telegraph and canals. these properties, as mr. blithers was by way of knowing, were absolutely sound and self-supporting. according to his investigators in london and berlin, they were as solid as gibraltar and not in need of one-tenth the protection required by the famous rock. robin inquired whether he was to come to new york at once in relation to the matter, and was informed that it would not be necessary at present. in fact, mr. blithers preferred to let the situation remain in statu quo (as he expressed it to the count), until it was determined whether the people were willing to deposit their bonds, a condition which was hardly worth while worrying about in view of the fact that they had already signified their readiness to present them for security in the original proposition to the banks. mr. blithers, however, would give himself the pleasure of calling upon the prince at red roof later in the week, when the situation could be discussed over a dish of tea or a cup of lemonade. that is precisely the way mr. blithers put it. the next afternoon mrs. blithers left cards at red roof--or rather, the foot-man left them--and on the day following the kings and their guests received invitations to a ball at blitherwood on the ensuing friday, but four days off. while mrs. king and the two young men were discussing the invitation the former was called to the telephone. mrs. blithers herself was speaking. "i hope you will pardon me for calling you up, mrs. king, but i wanted to be sure that you can come on the seventeenth. we want so much to have the prince and his friends with us. mr. blithers has taken a great fancy to prince robin and count quinnox, and he declares the whole affair will be a fiasco if they are not to be here." "it is good of you to ask us, mrs. blithers. the prince is planning to leave for washington within the next few days and i fear--" "oh, you must prevail upon him to remain over, my dear mrs. king. we are to have a lot of people up from newport and tuxedo--you know the crowd--it's the _real_ crowd--and i'm sure he will enjoy meeting them. mr. blithers has arranged for a special train to bring them up--a train de luxe, you may be sure, both as to equipment and occupant. zabo's orchestra, too. a notion seized us last night to give the ball, which accounts for the short notice. it's the way we do everything--on a minute's notice. i think they're jollier if one doesn't go through the agony of a month's preparation, don't you? nearly every one has wired acceptance, so we're sure to have a lot of nice people. loads of girls,--you know the ones i mean,--and mr. blithers is trying to arrange a sparring match between those two great prizefighters,--you know the ones, mrs. king,--just to give us poor women a chance to see what a real man looks like in--i mean to say, what marvellous specimens they are, don't you know. now please tell the prince that he positively cannot afford to miss a real sparring match. every one is terribly excited over it, and naturally we are keeping it very quiet. won't it be a lark? my daughter thinks it's terrible, but she is finicky. one of them is a negro, isn't he?" "i'm sure i don't know." "you can imagine how splendid they must be when i tell you that mr. blithers is afraid they won't come up for less than fifteen thousand dollars. isn't it ridiculous?" "perfectly," said mrs. king. "of course, we shall insist on the prince receiving with us. he is our _piece de resistance_. you--" "i'm sure it will be awfully jolly, mrs. blithers. what did you say?" "i beg pardon?" "i'm sorry. i was speaking to the prince. he just called up stairs to me." "what does he say?" "it was really nothing. he was asking about hobbs." "hobbs? tell him, please, that if he has any friends he would like to have invited we shall be only too proud to--" "oh, thank you! i'll tell him." "you must not let him go away before--" "i shall try my best, mrs. blithers. it is awfully kind of you to ask us to--" "you must all come up to dinner either to-morrow night or the night after. i shall be so glad if you will suggest anything that can help us to make the ball a success. you see, i know how terribly clever you are, mrs. king." "i am dreadfully stupid." "nonsense!" "i'm sorry to say we're dining out to-morrow night and on thursday we are having some people here for--" "can't you bring them all up to blitherwood? we'd be delighted to have them, i'm sure." "i'm afraid i couldn't manage it. they--well, you see, they are in mourning." "oh, i see. well, perhaps maud and i could run in and see you for a few minutes to-morrow or next day, just to talk things over a little--what's that, maud? i beg your pardon, mrs. king. ahem! well, i'll call you up to-morrow, if you don't mind being bothered about a silly old ball. good-bye. thank you so much." mrs. king confronted robin in the lower hall a few seconds later and roundly berated him for shouting up the steps that hobbs ought to be invited to the ball. prince robin rolled on a couch and roared with delight. lieutenant dank, as became an officer of the royal guard, stood at attention--in the bow window with his back to the room, very red about the ears and rigid to the bursting point. "i suppose, however, we'll have to keep on the good side of the blithers syndicate," said robin soberly, after his mirth and subsided before her wrath. "good lord, aunt loraine, i simply cannot go up there and stand in line like a freak in a side show for all the ladies and girls to gape at i'll get sick the day of the party, that's what i'll do, and you can tell 'em how desolated i am over my misfortune." "they've got their eyes on you, bobby," she said flatly. "you can't escape so easily as all that. if you're not very, very careful they'll have you married to the charming miss maud before you can say jack rabbit." "think that's their idea?" "unquestionably." he stretched himself lazily. "well, it may be that she's the very one i'm looking for, auntie. who knows?" "you silly boy!" "she may be the golden girl in every sense of the term," said he lightly. "you say she's pretty?" "my notion of beauty and yours may not agree at all." "that's not an answer." "well, i consider her to be a very good-looking girl." "blonde?" "mixed. light brown hair and very dark eyes and lashes. a little taller than i, more graceful and a splendid horse-woman. i've seen her riding." "astride?" "no. i've seen her in a ball gown, too. most men think she's stunning." "well, let's have a game of billiards," said he, dismissing maud in a way that would have caused the proud mr. blithers to reel with indignation. a little later on, at the billiard table, mrs. king remarked, apropos of nothing and quite out of a clear sky, so to speak: "and she'll do anything her parents command her to do, that's the worst of it." "what are you talking about? it's your shot." "if they order her to marry a title, she'll do it. that's the way she's been brought up, i'm afraid." "meaning maud?" "certainly. who else? poor thing, she hasn't a chance in the world, with that mother of hers." "shoot, please. mark up six for me, dank." "wait till you see her, bobby." "all right. i'll wait," said he cheerfully. the next day count quinnox and king returned from the city, coming up in a private car with mr. blithers himself. "i'll have maud drive me over this afternoon," said mr. blithers, as they parted at the station. but maud did not drive him over that afternoon. the pride, joy and hope of the blithers family flatly refused to be a party of any such arrangement, and set out for a horse-back ride in a direction that took her as far away from red roof as possible. "what's come over the girl?" demanded mr. blithers, completely non-plused. "she's never acted like this before, lou." "some silly notion about being made a laughingstock, i gather," said his wife. "heaven knows i've talked to her till i'm utterly worn out. she says she won't be bullied into even meeting the prince, much less marrying him. i've never known her to be so pig-headed. usually i can make her see things in a sensible way. she would have married the duke, i'm sure, if--if you hadn't put a stop to it on account of his so-called habits. she--" "well, it's turned out for the best, hasn't it? isn't a prince better than a duke?" "you've said all that before, will. i wanted her to run down with me this morning to talk the ball over with mrs. king, and what do you think happened?" "she wouldn't go?" "worse than that. she wouldn't let _me_ go. now, things are coming to a pretty pass when--" "never mind. i'll talk to her," said mr. blithers, somewhat bleakly despite his confident front. "she loves her old dad. i can do _anything_ with her." "she's on a frightfully high horse lately," sighed mrs. blithers fretfully. "it--it can't be that young scoville, can it?" "if i thought it was, i'd--i'd--" there is no telling what mr. blithers would have done to young scoville, at the moment, for he couldn't think of anything dire enough to inflict upon the suspected meddler. "in any event, it's dreadfully upsetting to me, will. she--she won't listen to anything. and here's something else: she declares she won't stay here for the ball on friday night." mr. blithers had her repeat it, and then almost missed the chair in sitting down, he was so precipitous about it. "won't stay for her own ball?" he bellowed. "she says it isn't her ball," lamented his wife. "if it isn't hers, in the name of god whose is it?" "ask her, not me," flared mrs. blithers. "and don't glare at me like that. i've had nothing but glares since you went away. i thought i was doing the very nicest thing in the world when i suggested the ball. it would bring them together--" "the only two it will actually bring together, it seems, are those damned prize-fighters. they'll get together all right, but what good is it going to do us, if maud's going to act like this? see here, lou, i've got things fixed so that the prince of groostuck can't very well do anything but ask maud to--" "that's just it!" she exclaimed. "maud sees through the whole arrangement, will. she said last night that she wouldn't be at all surprised if you offered to assume graustark's debt to russia in order to--" "that's just what i've done, old girl," said he in triumph. "i'll have 'em sewed up so tight by next week that they can't move without asking me to loosen the strings. and you can tell maud once more for me that i'll get this prince for her if--" "but she doesn't want him!" "she doesn't know what she wants!" he roared. "where is she going?" "you saw her start off on katydid, so why--" "i mean on the day of the ball." "to new york." "by gad, i'll--i'll see about _that_," he grated. "i'll see that she doesn't leave the grounds if i have to put guards at every gate. she's got to be reasonable. what does she think i'm putting sixteen millions into the grasstork treasury for? she's got to stay here for the ball. why, it would be a crime for her to--but what's the use talking about it? she'll be here and she'll lead the grand march with the prince. i've got it all--" "well, you'll have to talk to her. i've done all that i can do. she swears she won't marry a man she's never seen." "ain't we trying to show him to her?" he snorted. "she won't have to marry him till she's seen him, and when she does see him she'll apologise to me for all the nasty things she's been saying about me." for a moment it looked as though mr. blithers would dissolve into tears, so suddenly was he afflicted by self-pity. "by the way, didn't she like the necklace i sent up to her from tiffany's?" "i suppose so. she said you were a dear old foozler." "foozler? what's that mean?" he wasn't quite sure, but somehow it sounded like a term of opprobrium. "i haven't the faintest idea," she said shortly. "well, why didn't you ask her? you've had charge of her bringing up. if she uses a word that you don't know the meaning of, you ought to--" "are you actually going to lend all that money to graustark?" she cut in. he glared at her uncertainly for a moment and then nodded his head. the words wouldn't come. "are you not a trifle premature about it?" she demanded with deep significance in her manner. this time he did not nod his head, nor did he shake it. he simply got up and walked out of the room. half way across the terrace he stopped short and said it with a great fervour and instantly felt very much relieved. in fact, the sensation of relief was so pleasant that he repeated it two or three times and then had to explain to a near by gardener that he didn't mean him at all. then he went down to the stables. all the grooms and stableboys came tumbling into the stable yard in response to his thunderous shout. "saddle red rover, and be quick about it," he commanded. "going out, sir?" asked the head groom, touching his fore-lock. "i am," said mr. blithers succinctly and with a withering glare. red rover must have been surprised by the unusual celerity with which he was saddled and bridled. if there could be such a thing as a horse looking shocked, that beast certainly betrayed himself as he was yanked away from his full manger and hustled out to the mounting block. "which way did miss blithers go?" demanded mr. blithers, in the saddle. two grooms were clumsily trying to insert his toes into the stirrups, at the same time pulling down his trousers legs, which had a tendency to hitch up in what seemed to them a most exasperating disregard for form. to their certain knowledge, mr. blithers had never started out before without boot and spur; therefore, the suddenness of his present sortie sank into their intellects with overwhelming impressiveness. "down the cutler road, sir, three quarters of an hour ago. she refused to have a groom go along, sir." "get ap!" said mr. blithers, and almost ran down a groom in his rush for the gate. for the information of the curious, it may be added that he did not overtake his daughter until she had been at home for half an hour, but he was gracious enough to admit to himself that he had been a fool to pursue a stern chase rather than to intercept her on the back road home, which _any_ fool might have known she would take. his wife came upon him a few minutes later while he was feverishly engaged in getting into his white flannels. "tell maud i'm going over to have tea with the prince," he grunted, without looking up from the shoe lace he was tying in a hard knot. "i want her to go with me in fifteen minutes. told 'em i would bring her over to play tennis. tell her to put on tennis clothes. hurry up, lou. where's my watch? what time is it? for god's sake, look at the watch, not at me! i'm not a clock! what?" "mrs. king called up half an hour ago to say that they were all motoring over to the grandby tavern for tea and wouldn't be back till half-past seven--" he managed to look up at that. for a moment he was speechless. no one had ever treated him like this before. "well, i'll be--hanged! positive engagement. but's it's all right," he concluded resolutely. "i can motor to grandby tavern, too, can't i? tell maud not to mind tennis clothes, but to hurry. want to go along?" "no, i don't," she said emphatically. "and maud isn't going, either." "she isn't, eh?" "no, she isn't. can't you leave this affair to me?" "i'm pretty hot under the collar," he warned her, and it was easy to believe that he was. "don't rush in where angels fear to tread, will dear," she pleaded. it was so unusual for her to adopt a pleading tone that he overlooked the implication. besides he had just got through calling himself a fool, so perhaps she was more or less justified. moreover, at that particular moment she undertook to assist him with his necktie. her soft, cool fingers touched his double chin and seemed to caress it lovingly. he lifted his head very much as a dog does when he is being tickled on that velvety spot under the lower jaw. "stuff and nonsense," he murmured throatily. "i thought you would see it that way," she said so calmly that he blinked a couple of times in sheer perplexity and then diminished his double chin perceptibly by a very helpful screwing up of his lower lip. he said nothing, preferring to let her think that the most important thing in the world just then was the proper adjustment of the wings of his necktie. "there!" she said, and patted him on the cheek, to show that the task had been successfully accomplished. "better come along for a little spin," he said, readjusting the tie with man-like ingenuousness. "do you good, lou." "very well," she said. "can you wait a few minutes?" "long as you like," said he graciously. "ask maud if she wants to come, too." "i am sure she will enjoy it," said his wife, and then mr. blithers descended to the verandah to think. somehow he felt if he did a little more thinking perhaps matters wouldn't be so bad. among other things, he thought it would be a good idea not to motor in the direction of grandby tavern. and he also thought it was not worth while resenting the fact that his wife and daughter took something over an hour to prepare for the little spin. in the meantime, prince robin was racing over the mountain roads in a high-power car, attended by a merry company of conspirators whose sole object was to keep him out of the clutches of that far-reaching octopus, william w. blithers. chapter vi the prince and mr. blithers in order to get on with the narrative, i shall be as brief as possible in the matter of the blitherwood ball. in the first place, mere words would prove to be not only feeble but actually out of place. any attempt to define the sensation of awe by recourse to a dictionary would put one in the ridiculous position of seeking the unattainable. the word has its meaning, of course, but the sensation itself is quite another thing. as every one who attended the ball was filled with awe, which he tried to put forward as admiration, the attitude of the guest was no more limp than that of the chronicler. in the second place, i am not qualified by experience or imagination to describe a ball that stood its promoter not a penny short of one hundred thousand dollars. i believe i could go as high as a fifteen or even twenty thousand dollar affair with some sort of intelligence, but anything beyond those figures renders me void and useless. mr. blithers not only ran a special train de luxe from new york city, but another from washington and still another from newport, for it appears that the newporters at the last minute couldn't bear the idea of going to the metropolis out of season. he actually had to take them around the city in such a way that they were not even obliged to submit to a glimpse of the remotest outskirts of the bronx. from washington came an amazing company of foreign ladies and gentlemen, ranging from the most exalted europeans to the lowliest of the yellow races. they came with gold all over them; they tinkled with the clash of a million cymbals. the president of the united states almost came. having no spangles of his own, he delegated a major-general and a rear-admiral to represent old glory, and no doubt sulked in the white house because a parsimonious nation refuses to buy braid and buttons for its chief executive. any one who has seen a gentleman in braid, buttons and spangles will understand how impossible it is to describe him. one might enumerate the buttons and the spangles and even locate them precisely upon his person, but no mortal intellect can expand sufficiently to cope with an undertaking that would try even the powers of him who created the contents of those wellstuffed uniforms. a car load of orchids and gardenias came up, fairly depleting the florists' shops on manhattan island, and with them came a small army of skilled decorators. in order to deliver his guests at the doors of blitherwood, so to speak, the incomprehensible mr. blithers had a temporary spur of track laid from the station two miles away, employing no fewer than a thousand men to do the work in forty-eight hours. (work on a terminal extension in new york was delayed for a week or more in order that he might borrow the rails, ties and worktrains!) two hundred and fifty precious and skillfully selected guests ate two hundred and fifty gargantuan dinners and twice as many suppers; drank barrels of the rarest of wines; smoked countless two dollar perfectos and stuffed their pockets with enough to last them for days to come; burnt up five thousand cigarettes and ate at least two dozen eggs for breakfast, and then flitted away with a thousand complaints in two hundred and fifty pullman drawing-rooms, nothing could have been more accurately pulled-off than the wonderful blitherwood ball. (the sparring match on the lawn, under the glare of a stupendous cluster of lights, resulted in favour of mr. bullhead brown, who successfully--if accidentally--landed with considerably energy on the left lower corner of mr. sledge-hammer smith's diaphragm, completely dividing the purse with him in four scientifically satisfactory rounds, although they came to blows over it afterwards when mr. smith told mr. brown what he thought of him for hitting with such fervour just after they had eaten a hearty meal.) a great many mothers inspected prince robin with interest and confessed to a really genuine enthusiasm: something they had not experienced since one of the german princes got close enough to newport to see it quite clearly through his marine glasses from the bridge of a battleship. the ruler of graustark--(four-fifths of the guests asked where in the world it was!)--was the lion of the day. mr. blithers was annoyed because he did not wear his crown, but was somewhat mollified by the information that he had neglected to bring it along with him in his travels. he was also considerably put out by the discovery that the prince had left his white and gold uniform at home and had to appear in an ordinary dress-suit, which, to be sure, fitted him perfectly but did not achieve distinction. he did wear a black and silver ribbon across his shirt front, however, and a tiny gold button in the lapel of his coat; otherwise he might have been mistaken for a "regular guest," to borrow an expression from mr. blithers. the prince's host manoeuvred until nearly one o'clock in the morning before he succeeded in getting a close look at the little gold button, and then found that the inscription thereon was in some sort of hieroglyphics that afforded no enlightenment whatsoever. exercising a potentate's prerogative, prince robin left the scene of festivity somewhat earlier than was expected. as a matter of fact, he departed shortly after one. moreover, being a prince, it did not occur to him to offer any excuse for leaving so early, but gracefully thanked his host and hostess and took himself off without the customary assertion that he had had a splendid time. strange to say, he did not offer a single comment on the sumptuousness of the affair that had been given in his honor. mr. blithers couldn't get over that. he couldn't help thinking that the fellow had not been properly brought-up, or was it possible that he was not in the habit of going out in good society? except for one heart-rending incident, the blitherwood ball was the most satisfying event in the lives of mr. and mrs. william w. blithers. that incident, however, happened to be the hasty and well-managed flight of maud applegate blithers at an hour indefinitely placed somewhere between four and seven o'clock on the morning of the great day. miss blithers was not at the ball. she was in new york city serenely enjoying one of the big summer shows, accompanied by young scoville and her onetime governess, a middle-aged gentlewoman who had seen even better days than those spent in the employ of william w. blithers. the resolute young lady had done precisely what she said she would do, and for the first time in his life mr. blithers realised that his daughter was a creation and not a mere condition. he wilted like a famished water-lily and went about the place in a state of bewilderment so bleak that even his wife felt sorry for him and refrained from the "i told you so" that might have been expected under the circumstances. maud's telegram, which came at three o'clock in the afternoon, was meant to be reassuring but it failed of its purpose. it said: "have a good time and don't lose any sleep over me. i shall sleep very soundly myself at the ritz to-night and hope you will be doing the same when i return home to-morrow afternoon, for i know you will be dreadfully tired after all the excitement. convey my congratulations to the guest of honor and believe me to be your devoted and obedient daughter." the co-incidental absence of young mr. scoville from the ball was a cause of considerable uneasiness on the part of the agitated mr. blithers, who commented upon it quite expansively in the seclusion of his own bed-chamber after the last guest had sought repose. some of the things that mr. blithers said about mr. scoville will never be forgotten by the four walls of that room, if, as commonly reported, they possess auricular attachments. any one who imagines that mr. blithers accepted maud's defection as a final disposition of the cause he had set his heart upon is very much mistaken in his man. far from receding so much as an inch from his position, he at once set about to strengthen it in such a way that maud would have to come to the conclusion that it was useless to combat the inevitable, and ultimately would heap praises upon his devoted head for the great blessing he was determined to bestow upon her in spite of herself. the last of the special coaches was barely moving on its jiggly way to the main line, carrying the tag end of the revellers, when he set forth in his car for a mid-day visit to red roof. already the huge camp of slavs and italians was beginning to jerk up the borrowed rails and ties; the work trains were rumbling and snorting in the meadows above blitherwood, tottering about on the uncertain road-bed. he gave a few concise and imperative orders to obsequious superintendents and foremen, who subsequently repeated them with even greater freedom to the perspiring foreigners, and left the scene of confusion without so much as a glance behind. wagons, carts, motortrucks and all manner of wheeled things were scuttling about blitherwood as he shot down the long, winding avenue toward the lodge gates, but he paid no attention to them. they were removing the remnants of a glory that had passed at five in the morning. he was not interested in the well-plucked skeleton. it was a nuisance getting rid of it, that was all, and he wanted it to be completely out of sight when he returned from red roof. if a vestige of the ruins remained, some one would hear from him! that was understood. and when maud came home on the five-fourteen she would not find him asleep--not by a long shot! half-way to red roof, he espied a man walking briskly along the road ahead of him. to be perfectly accurate, he was walking in the middle of the road and his back was toward the swift-moving, almost noiseless packard. "blow the horn for the dam' fool," said mr. blithers to the chauffeur. a moment later the pedestrian leaped nimbly aside and the car shot past, the dying wail of the siren dwindling away in the whirr of the wheels. "look where you're going!" shouted mr. blithers from the tonneau, as if the walker had come near to running him down instead of the other way around. "whoa! stop 'er, jackson!" he called to the driver. he had recognised the pedestrian. the car came to a stop with grinding brakes, and at the same time the pedestrian halted a hundred yards away. "back up," commanded mr. blithers in some haste, for the prince seemed to be on the point of deserting the highway for the wood that lined it. "morning, prince!" he shouted, waving his hat vigorously. "want a lift?" the car shot backward with almost the same speed that it had gone forward, and the prince exercised prudence when he stepped quickly up the sloping bank at the roadside. "were you addressing me," he demanded curtly, as the car came to a stop. "yes, your highness. get in. i'm going your way," said mr. blithers beamingly. "i mean a moment ago, when you shouted 'look where you are going,'" said robin, an angry gleam in his eye. mr. blithers looked positively dumbfounded. "good heavens, no!" he cried. "i was speaking to the chauffeur." (jackson's back seemed to stiffen a little.) "i've told him a thousand times to be careful about running up on people like that. now this is the last time i'll warn you, jackson. the next time you go. understand? just because you happen to be driving for me doesn't signify that you can run over people who--" "it's all right, mr. blithers," interrupted robin, with his fine smile. "no harm done. i'll walk if you don't mind. out for a bit of exercise, you know. thank you just the same." "where are you bound for?" asked mr. blithers. "i don't know. i ramble where my fancy leads me." "i guess i'll get out and stroll along with you. god knows i need more exercise than i get. is it agreeable?" he was on the ground by this time. without waiting for an answer, he directed jackson to run on to red roof and wait for him. "i shall be charmed," said robin, a twinkle in the tail of his eye. "an eight or ten mile jaunt will do you a world of good, i'm sure. shall we explore this little road up the mountain and then drop down to red roof? i don't believe it can be more than five or six miles." "capital," said mr. blithers with enthusiasm. he happened to know that it was a "short cut" to red roof and less than a mile as the crow flies. true, there was something of an ascent ahead of them, but there was also a corresponding descent at the other end. besides, he was confident he could keep up with the long-legged youngster by the paradoxical process of holding back. the prince, having suggested the route, couldn't very well be arbitrary in traversing it. mr. blithers regarded the suggestion as an invitation. they struck off into the narrow woodland road, not precisely side by side, but somewhat after the fashion of a horseback rider and his groom, or, more strictly speaking, as a knight and his vassal. robin started off so briskly that mr. blithers fell behind a few paces and had to exert himself considerably to keep from losing more ground as they took the first steep rise. the road was full of ruts and cross ruts and littered with boulders that had ambled down the mountain-side in the spring moving. to save his life, mr. blithers couldn't keep to a straight course. he went from rut to rut and from rock to rock with the fidelity of a magnetised atom, seldom putting his foot where he meant to put it, and never by any chance achieving a steady stride. he would take one long, purposeful step and then a couple of short "feelers," progressing very much as a man tramps over a newly ploughed field. at the top of the rise, robin considerately slackened his pace and the chubby gentleman drew alongside, somewhat out of breath but as cheerful as a cricket. "going too fast for you, mr. blithers?" inquired robin. "not at all," said mr. blithers. "by the way, prince," he went on, cunningly seizing the young man's arm and thereby putting a check on his speed for the time being at least, "i want to explain my daughter's unfortunate absence last night. you must have thought it very strange. naturally it was unavoidable. the poor girl is really quite heart-broken. i beg pardon!" he stepped into a rut and came perilously near to going over on his nose. "beastly road! thanks. good thing i took hold of you. yes, as i was saying, it was really a most unfortunate thing; missed the train, don't you see. went down for the day--just like a girl, you know--and missed the train." "ah, i see. she missed it twice." "eh? oh! ha ha! very good! she might just as well have missed it a dozen times as once, eh? well, she could have arranged for a special to bring her up, but she's got a confounded streak of thriftiness in her. couldn't think of spending the money. silly idea of--i beg your pardon, did i hurt you? i'm pretty heavy, you know, no light weight when i come down on a fellow's toe like that. what say to sitting down on this log for a while? give your foot a chance to rest a bit. deucedly awkward of me. ought to look out where i'm stepping, eh?" "it really doesn't matter, mr. blithers," said robin hastily. "we'll keep right on if it's all the same to you. i'm due at home in--in half an hour. we lunch very punctually." "i was particularly anxious for you and maud to meet under the conditions that obtained last night," went on mr. blithers, with a regretful look at the log they were passing. "nothing could have been more--er--ripping." "i hear from every one that your daughter is most attractive," said robin. "sorry not to have met her, mr. blithers." "oh, you'll meet her all right. prince. she's coming home to-day. i believe mrs. blithers is expecting you to dinner to-night. she--" "i'm sure there must be some mistake," began robin, but was cut short. "i was on my way to red roof to ask you and count quiddux to give us this evening in connection with that little affair we are arranging. it is most imperative that it should be to-night, as my attorney is coming up for the conference." "i fear that mrs. king has planned something--" mr. blithers waved his hand deprecatingly. "i am sure mrs. king will let you off when she knows how important it is. as a matter of fact, it has to be tonight or not at all." there was a note in his voice that robin did not like. it savoured of arrogance. "i daresay count quinnox can attend to all the details, mr. blithers. i have the power of veto, of course, but i shall be guided by the counsel of my ministers. you need have no hesitancy in dealing with--" "that's not the point, prince. i am a business man,--as perhaps you know. i make it a point never to deal with any one except the head of a concern, if you'll pardon my way of putting it. it isn't right to speak of growstock as a concern, but you'll understand, of course. figure of speech." "i can only assure you, sir, that graustark is in a position to indemnify you against any possible chance of loss. you will be amply secured. i take it that you are not coming to our assistance through any desire to be philanthropic, but as a business proposition, pure and simple. at least, that is how we regard the matter. am i not right?" "perfectly," said mr. blithers. "i haven't got sixteen millions to throw away. still i don't see that that has anything to do with my request that you be present at the conference to-night. to be perfectly frank with you, i don't like working in the dark. you have the power of veto, as you say. well, if i am to lend groostork a good many millions of hard-earned dollars, i certainly don't relish the idea that you may take it into your head to upset the whole transaction merely because you have not had the matter presented to you by me instead of by your cabinet, competent as its members may be. first hand information on any subject is my notion of simplicity." "the integrity of the cabinet is not to be questioned, mr. blithers. its members have never failed graustark in any--" "i beg your pardon, prince," said mr. blithers firmly, "but i certainly suspect that they failed her when they contracted this debt to russia. you will forgive me for saying it, but it was the most asinine bit of short-sightedness i've ever heard of. my office boys could have seen farther than your honourable ministers." to his utter amazement, robin turned a pair of beaming, excited eyes upon him. "do you really mean that, mr. blithers?" he cried eagerly. "i certainly do!" "by jove, i--i can't tell you how happy i am to hear you say it. you see it is exactly what john tullis said from the first. he was bitterly opposed to the loan. he tried his best to convince the prime minister that it was inadvisable. i granted him the special privilege of addressing the full house of nobles on the question, an honour that no alien had known up to that time. of course i was a boy when all this happened, mr. blithers, or i might have put a stop to the--but i'll not go into that. the house of nobles went against his judgment and voted in favour of accepting russia's loan. now they realise that dear old john tullis was right. somehow it gratifies me to hear you say that they were--ahem!--shortsighted." "what you need in groostock is a little more good american blood," announced mr. blithers, pointedly. "if you are going to cope with the world, you've got to tackle the job with brains and not with that idiotic thing called faith. there's no such thing in these days as charity among men, good will, and all that nonsense. now, you've got a splendid start in the right direction, prince. you've got american blood in your veins and that means a good deal. take my advice and increase the proportion. in a couple of generations you'll have something to brag about. take tullis as your example. beget sons that will think and act as he is capable of doing. weed out the thin blood and give the crown of grasstick something that is thick and red. it will be the making of your--" "i suppose you are advising me to marry an american woman, mr. blithers," said robin drily. mr. blithers directed a calculating squint into the tree-tops. "i am simply looking ahead for my own protection, prince," said he. "in what respect?" "well i am putting a lot of money into the hands of your people. isn't it natural that i should look ahead to some extent?" "but my people are honest. they will pay." "i understand all that, but at the same time i do not relish the idea of some day being obliged to squeeze blood from a turnip. now is the time for you to think for the future. your people are honest, i'll grant. but they also are poor. and why? because no one has been able to act for them as your friend tullis is capable of acting. the day will come when they will have to settle with me, and will it be any easier to pay william w. blithers than it is to pay russia? not a bit of it. as you have said, i am not a philanthropist. i shall exact full and prompt payment. i prefer to collect from the prosperous, however, and not from the poor. it goes against the grain. that's why i want to see you rich and powerful--as well as honest." "i grant you it is splendid philosophy," said robin. "but are you not forgetting that even the best of americans are sometimes failures when it comes to laying up treasure?" "as individuals, yes; but not as a class. you will not deny that we are the richest people in the world. on the other hand i do not pretend to say that we are a people of one strain of blood. we represent a mixture of many strains, but underneath them all runs the full stream that makes us what we are: americans. you can't get away from that. yes, i _do_ advise you to marry an american girl." "in other words, i am to make a business of it," said robin, tolerantly. "it isn't beyond the range of possibility that you should fall in love with an american girl, is it? you wouldn't call that making a business of it, would you?" "you may rest assured, mr. blithers, that i shall marry to please myself and no one else," said robin, regarding him with a coldness that for an instant affected the millionaire uncomfortably. "well," said mr. blithers, after a moment of hard thinking, "it may interest you to know that i married for love." "it _does_ interest me," said robin. "i am glad that you did." "i was a comparatively poor man when i married. the girl i married was well-off in her own right. she had brains as well. we worked together to lay the foundation for a--well, for the fortune we now possess. a fortune, i may add, that is to go, every dollar of it, to my daughter. it represents nearly five hundred million dollars. the greatest king in the world to-day is poor in comparison to that vast estate. my daughter will one day be the richest woman in the world." "why are you taking the pains to enlighten me as to your daughter's future, mr. blithers?" "because i regard you as a sensible young man, prince." "thank you. and i suppose you regard your daughter as a sensible young woman?" "certainly!" exploded mr. blithers. "well, it seems to me, she will be capable of taking care of her fortune a great deal more successfully than you imagine, mr. blithers. she will doubtless marry an excellent chap who has the capacity to increase her fortune, rather than to let it stand at a figure that some day may be surpassed by the possessions of an ambitious king." there was fine irony in the prince's tone but no trace of offensiveness. nevertheless, mr. blithers turned a shade more purple than before, and not from the violence of exercise. he was having some difficulty in controlling his temper. what manner of fool was this fellow who could sneer at five hundred million dollars? he managed to choke back something that rose to his lips and very politely remarked: "i am sure you will like her, prince. if i do say it myself, she is as handsome as they grow." "so i have been told." "you will see her to-night." "really, mr. blithers, i cannot--" "i'll fix it with mrs. king. don't you worry." "may i be pardoned for observing that mrs. king, greatly as i love her, is not invested with the power to govern my actions?" said robin haughtily. "and may i be pardoned for suggesting that it is your duty to your people to completely understand this loan of mine before you agree to accept it?" said mr. blithers, compressing his lips. "forgive me, mr. blithers, but it is not altogether improbable that graustark may secure the money elsewhere." "it is not only improbable but impossible," said mr. blithers flatly. "impossible?" "absolutely," said the millionaire so significantly that robin would have been a dolt not to grasp the situation. nothing could have been clearer than the fact that mr. blithers believed it to be in his power to block any effort graustark might make in other directions to secure the much-needed money. "will you come to the point, mr. blithers?" said the young prince, stopping abruptly in the middle of the road and facing his companion. "what are you trying to get at?" mr. blithers was not long in getting to the point. in the first place, he was hot and tired and his shoes were hurting; in the second place, he felt that he knew precisely how to handle these money-seeking scions of nobility. he planted himself squarely in front of the prince and jammed his hands deep into his coat pockets. "the day my daughter is married to the man of my choice, i will hand over to that man exactly twenty million dollars," he said slowly, impressively. "yes, go on." "the sole object i have in life is to see my girl happy and at the same time at the top of the heap. she is worthy of any man's love. she is as good as gold. she--" "the point is this, then: you would like to have me for a son-in-law." "yes," said mr. blithers. robin grinned. he was amused in spite of himself. "you take it for granted that i can be bought?" "i have not made any such statement." "and how much will you hand over to the man of _her_ choice when she marries him?" enquired the young man. "you will be her choice," said the other, without the quiver of an eye-lash. "how can you be sure of that? has she no mind of her own?" "it isn't incomprehensible that she should fall in love with you, is it?" "it might be possible, of course, provided she is not already in love with some one else." mr. blithers started. "have you heard any one say that--but, that's nonsense! she's not in love with any one, take it from me. and just to show you how fair i am to her--and to you--i'll stake my head you fall in love with each other before you've been together a week." "but we're not going to be together for a week." "i should have said before you've known each other a week. you will find--" "just a moment, please. we can cut all this very short, and go about our business. i've never seen your daughter, nor, to my knowledge, has she ever laid eyes on me. from what i've heard of her, she _has_ a mind of her own. you will not be able to force her into a marriage that doesn't appeal to her, and you may be quite sure, mr. blithers, that you can't force me into one. i do not want you to feel that i have a single disparaging thought concerning miss blithers. it is possible that i could fall in love with her inside of a week, or even sooner. but i don't intend to, mr. blithers, any more than she intends to fall in love with me. you say that twenty millions will go to the man she marries, if he is your choice. well, i don't give a hang, sir, if you make it fifty millions. the chap who gets it will not be me, so what's the odds? you--" "wait a minute, young man," said mr. blithers coolly. (he was never anything but cool when under fire.) "why not wait until you have met my daughter before making a statement like that? after all, am i not the one who is taking chances? well, i'm willing to risk my girl's happiness with you and that's saying everything when you come right down to it. she will make you happy in--" [illustration: "you will be her choice," said the other, without the quiver of an eye-lash ] "i am not for sale. mr. blithers," said robin abruptly. "good morning." he turned into the wood and was sauntering away with his chin high in the air when mr. blithers called out to him from behind. "i shall expect you to-night, just the same." robin halted, amazed by the man's assurance. he retraced his steps to the roadside. "will you pardon a slight feeling of curiosity on my part, mr. blithers, if i ask whether your daughter consents to the arrangement you propose. does she approve of the scheme?" mr. blithers was honest. "no, she doesn't," he said succinctly. "at least, not at present. i'll be honest with you. she stayed away from the ball last night simply because she did not want to meet you. that's the kind of a girl _she_ is." "by jove, i take off my hat to her," cried robin. "she is a brick, after all. take it from me, mr. blithers, you will not be able to hand over twenty millions without her consent. i believe that i should enjoy meeting her, now that i come to think of it. it would be a pleasure to exchange confidences with a girl of that sort." mr. blithers betrayed agitation. "see here, prince, i don't want her to know that i've said anything to you about this matter," he said, unconsciously lowering his voice as if fearing that maud might be somewhere within hearing distance. "this is between you and me. don't breathe a word of it to her. 'gad, she'd--she'd skin me alive!" at the very thought of it, he wiped his forehead with unusual vigour. robin laughed heartily. "rest easy, mr. blithers. i shall not even think of your proposition again, much less speak of it." "come now, prince; wait until you've seen her. i know you'll get on famously--" "i should like her to know that i consider her a brick, mr. blithers. is it too much to ask of you? just tell her that i think she's a brick." "tell her yourself," growled mr. blithers, looking very black. "you will see her this evening," he added levelly. "shall i instruct your chauffeur to come for you up here or will you walk back to--" "i'll walk to red roof," said mr. blithers doggedly. "i'm going to ask mrs. king to let you off for to-night." chapter vii a letter from maud mr. blithers, triumphant, left red roof shortly after luncheon; mr. blithers, dismayed, arrived at blitherwood a quarter of an hour later. he had had his way with robin, who, after all, was coming to dinner that evening with count quinnox. the prince, after a few words in private with the count, changed his mind and accepted mr. blithers' invitation with a liveliness that was mistaken for eagerness by that gentleman, who had made very short work of subduing mrs. king when she tried to tell him that her own dinner-party would be ruined if the principal guest defaulted. he was gloating over his victory up to the instant he reached his own lodge gates. there dismay sat patiently waiting for him in the shape of a messenger from the local telegraph office in the village below. he had seen mr. blithers approaching in the distance, and, with an astuteness that argued well for his future success in life, calmly sat down to wait instead of pedaling his decrepit bicycle up the long slope to the villa. he delivered a telegram and kindly vouchsafed the information that it was from new york. mr. blithers experienced a queer sinking of the heart as he gazed at the envelope. something warned him that if he opened it in the presence of the messenger he would say something that a young boy ought not to hear. "it's from maud," said the obliging boy, beaming good-nature. it cost him a quarter, that bit of gentility, for mr. blithers at once said something that a messenger boy ought to hear, and ordered jackson to go ahead. it was from maud and it said: "i shall stay in town a few days longer. it is delightfully cool here. dear old miranda is at the ritz with me and we are having a fine spree. don't worry about money. i find i have a staggering balance in the bank. the cashier showed me where i had made a mistake in subtraction of an even ten thousand. i was amazed to find what a big difference a little figure makes. have made no definite plans but will write mother to-night. please give my love to the prince. have you seen to-day's _town truth_? or worse, has he seen it? your loving daughter, maud." the butler was sure it was apoplexy, but the chauffeur, out of a wide experience, announced, behind his hand, that he would be all right the instant the words ceased to stick in his throat. and he was right. mr. blithers _was_ all right. not even the chauffeur had seen him when he was more so. a little later on, after he had cooled off to a quite considerable extent, mr. blithers lighted a cigar and sat down in the hall outside his wife's bed-chamber door. she was having her beauty nap. not even he possessed the temerity to break in upon that. he sat and listened for the first sound that would indicate the appeasement of beauty, occasionally hitching his chair a trifle nearer to the door in the agony of impatience. by the time jackson returned from the village with word that a copy of _town truth_ was not to be had until the next day, he was so close to the door that if any one had happened to stick a hat pin through the keyhole at precisely the right instant it would have punctured his left ear with appalling results. "what are we going to do about it?" he demanded three minutes after entering the chamber. his wife was prostrate on the luxurious couch from which she had failed to arise when he burst in upon her with the telegram in his hand. "oh, the foolish child," she moaned. "if she only knew how adorable he is she wouldn't be acting in this perfectly absurd manner. every girl who was here last night is madly in love with him. why must maud be so obstinate?" mr. blithers was very careful not to mention his roadside experience with the prince, and you may be sure that he said nothing about his proposition to the young man. he merely declared, with a vast bitterness in his soul, that the prince was coming to dinner, but what the deuce was the use? "she ought to be soundly--spoken to," said he, breaking the sentence with a hasty gulp. "now, lou, there's just one thing to do. i must go to new york on the midnight train and get her. that woman was all right as a tutor, but hanged if i like to see a daughter of mine traipsing around new york with a school teacher. she--" "you forget that she has retired on a competence. she is not in active employment. will. you forget that she is one of the van valkens." "there you go, talking about good old families again. why is it that so blamed many of your fine old blue stockings are hunting jobs--" "now don't be vulgar, will," she cut in. "maud is quite safe with miranda, and you know it perfectly well, so don't talk like that. i think it would be a fearful mistake for you to go to new york. she would never forgive you and, what is more to the point, she wouldn't budge a step if you tried to bully her into coming home with you. you know it quite as well as i do." he groaned. "give me a chance to think, lou. just half a chance, that's all i ask. i'll work out some--" "wait until her letter comes. we'll see what she has to say. perhaps she intends coming home tomorrow, who can tell? this may be a pose on her part. give her free rein and she will not pull against the bit. it may surprise her into doing the sensible thing if we calmly ignore her altogether. i've been thinking it over, and i've come to the conclusion that we'll be doing the wisest thing in the world if we pay absolutely no attention to her." "by george, i believe you've hit it, lou! she'll be looking for a letter or telegram from me and she'll not receive a word, eh? she'll be expecting us to beg her to come back and all the while we just sit tight and say not a word. we'll fool her, by thunder. by to-morrow afternoon she'll be so curious to know what's got into us that she'll come home on a run. you're right. it takes a thief to catch a thief,--which is another way of saying that it takes a woman to understand a woman. we'll sit tight and let maud worry for a day or two. it will do her good." maud's continued absence was explained to prince robin that evening, not by the volcanic mr. blithers but by his practised and adroit better-half who had no compunction in ascribing it to the alarming condition of a very dear friend in new york,--one of the van valkens, you know. "maud is so tender-hearted, so loyal, so really sweet about her friends, that nothing in the world could have induced her to leave this dear friend, don't you know." "i am extremely sorry not to have met your daughter," said robin very politely. "oh, but she will be here in a day or two, prince." "unfortunately, we are leaving to-morrow, mrs. blithers." "to-morrow?" murmured mrs. blithers, aghast. "i received a cablegram to-day advising me to return to edelweiss at once. we are obliged to cut short a very charming visit with mr. and mrs. king and to give up the trip to washington. lieutenant dank left for new york this afternoon to exchange our reservations for the first ship that we can--" "what's this?" demanded mr. blithers, abruptly withdrawing his attention from count quinnox who was in the middle of a sentence when the interruption came. they were on the point of going out to dinner. "what's this?" "the prince says that he is leaving to-morrow--" "nonsense!" exploded mr. blithers, with no effort toward geniality. "he doesn't mean it. why,--why, we haven't signed a single agreement--" "fortunately it isn't necessary for me to sign anything, mr. blithers," broke in robin hastily. "the papers are to be signed by the minister of finance, and afterwards my signature is attached in approval. isn't that true, count quinnox?" "i daresay mr. blithers understands the situation perfectly," said the count. mr. blithers looked blank. he _did_ understand the situation, that was the worst of it. he knew that although the cabinet had sanctioned the loan by cable, completing the transaction so far as it could be completed at this time, it was still necessary for the minister of finance to sign the agreement under the royal seal of graustark. "of course i understand it," he said bluntly. "still i had it in mind to ask the prince to put his signature to a sort of preliminary document which would at least assure me that he would sign the final agreement when the time comes. that's only fair, isn't it?" "quite fair, mr. blithers. the prince will sign such an article to-morrow or the next day at your office in the city. pray have no uneasiness, sir. it shall be as you wish. by the way, i understood that your solicitor--your lawyer, i should say,--was to be here this evening. it had occurred to me that he might draw up the statement,--if mrs. blithers will forgive us in our haste--" "he couldn't get here," said mr. blithers, and no more. he was thinking too intently of something more important. "what's turned up?" "turned up, mr. blithers?" "yes--in groostock. what's taking you off in such a hurry?" "the prince has been away for nearly six months," said the count, as if that explained everything. "was it necessary to cable for him to come home?" persisted the financier. "graustark and dawsbergen are endeavouring to form an alliance, mr. blithers, and prince robin's presence at the capitol is very much to be desired in connection with the project." "what kind of an alliance?" the count looked bored. "an alliance prescribed for the general improvement of the two races, i should say, mr. blithers." he smiled. "it would in no way impair the credit of graustark, however. it is what you might really describe as a family secret, if you will pardon my flippancy." the butler announced dinner. "wait for a couple of days. prince, and i'll send you down to new york by special train," said mr. blithers. "thank you. it is splendid of you. i daresay everything will depend on dank's success in--" "crawford," said mr. blithers to the butler, "ask mr. davis to look up the sailings for next week and let me know at once, will you?" turning to the prince, he went on: "we can wire down to-night and engage passage for next week. davis is my secretary. i'll have him attend to everything. and now let's forget our troubles." a great deal was said by her parents about maud's unfortunate detention in the city. both of them were decidedly upset by the sudden change in the prince's plans. once under pretext of whispering to crawford about the wine, mr. blithers succeeded in transmitting a question to his wife. she shook her head in reply, and he sighed audibly. he had asked if she thought he'd better take the midnight train. mr. davis found that there were a dozen ships sailing the next week, but nothing came of it, for the prince resolutely declared he would be obliged to take the first available steamer. "we shall go down to-morrow," he said, and even mr. blithers subsided. he looked to his wife in desperation. she failed him for the first time in her life. her eyes were absolutely messageless. "i'll go down with you," he said, and then gave his wife a look of defiance. the next morning brought maud's letter to her mother. it said: "dearest mother: i enclose the cutting from _town truth_. you may see for yourself what a sickening thing it is. the whole world knows by this time that the ball was a joke--a horrible joke. everybody knows that you are trying to hand me over to prince robin neatly wrapped up in bank notes. and everybody knows that he is laughing at us, and he isn't alone in his mirth either. what must the truxton kings think of us? i can't bear the thought of meeting that pretty, clever woman face to face. i know i should die of mortification, for, of course, she must believe that i am dying to marry anything on earth that has a title and a pair of legs. somehow i don't blame you and dad. you really love me, i know, and you want to give me the best that the world affords. but why, oh why, can't you let me choose for myself? i don't object to having a title, but i do object to having a husband that i don't want and who certainly could not, by any chance, want me. you think that i am in love with channie scoville. well, i'm not. i am very fond of him, that's all, and if it came to a pinch i would marry him in preference to any prince on the globe. to-day i met a couple of girls who were at the ball. they told me that the prince is adorable. they are really quite mad about him, and one of them had the nerve to ask what it was going to cost dad to land him. _town truth_ says he is to cost ten millions! well, you may just tell dad that i'll help him to practice economy. he needn't pay a nickle for my husband--when i get him. the world is small. it may be that i shall come upon this same prince charming some place before it is too late, and fall in love with him all of a heap. loads of silly girls do fall in love with fairy princes, and i'm just as silly as the rest of them. ever since i was a little kiddie i've dreamed of marrying a real, lace-and-gold prince, the kind miranda used to read about in the story books. but i also dreamed that he loved me. there's the rub, you see. how could any prince love a girl who set out to buy him with a lot of silly millions? it's not to be expected. i know it is done in the best society, but i should want my prince to be happy instead of merely comfortable. i should want both of us to live happy ever afterwards. "so, dearest mother, i am going abroad to forget. miranda is going with me and we sail next saturday on the _jupiter_ i think. we haven't got our suite, but mr. bliss says he is sure he can arrange it for me. if we can't get one on the _jupiter_, we'll take some other boat that is just as inconspicuous. you see, i want to go on a ship that isn't likely to be packed with people i know, for it is my intention to travel incog, as they say in the books. no one shall stare at me and say: 'there is that maud blithers we were reading about in _town truth_--and all the other papers this week. her father is going to buy a prince for her.' "i know dad will be perfectly furious, but i'm going or die, one or the other. now it won't do a bit of good to try to stop me, dearest. the best thing for you and dad to do is to come down at once and say goodbye to me--but you are not to go to the steamer! never! please, please come, for i love you both and i do so want you to love me. come to-morrow and kiss your horrid, horrid, disappointing, loathsome daughter--and forgive her, too." mr. blithers was equal to the occasion. his varying emotions manifested themselves with peculiar vividness during the reading of the letter by his tearful wife. at the outset he was frankly humble and contrite; he felt bitterly aggrieved over the unhappy position in which they innocently had placed their cherished idol. then came the deep breath of relief over the apparent casting away of young scoville, followed by an angry snort when maud repeated the remark of her girl friend. his dismay was pathetic while mrs. blithers was fairly gasping out maud's determination to go abroad, but before she reached the concluding sentences of the extraordinary missive, he was himself again. as a matter of fact, he was almost jubilant. he slapped his knee with resounding force and uttered an ejaculation that caused his wife to stare at him as if the very worst had happened: he was a chuckling lunatic! "immense!" he exclaimed. "immense!" "oh, will!" she sobbed. "nothing could be better! luck is with me, lou. it always is." "in heaven's name, what are you saying, will?" "great scott, can't you see? he goes abroad, she goes abroad. see? same ship. see what i mean? nothing could be finer. they--" "but i do not want my child to go abroad," wailed the unhappy mother. "i cannot bear--" "stuff and nonsense! brace up! grasp the romance. both of 'em sailing under assumed names. they see each other on deck. mutual attraction. love at first sight. both of 'em. money no object. there you are. leave it to me." "maud is not the kind of girl to take up with a stranger on board--" "don't glare at me like that! love finds the way, it doesn't matter what kind of a girl she is. but listen to me, lou; we've got to be mighty careful that maud doesn't suspect that we're putting up a job on her. she'd balk at the gang-plank and that would be the end of it. she must not know that he is on board. now, here's the idea," and he talked on in a strangely subdued voice for fifteen minutes, his enthusiasm mounting to such heights that she was fairly lifted to the seventh heaven he produced, and, for once in her life, she actually submitted to his bumptious argument without so much as a single protesting word. the down train at two-seventeen had on board a most distinguished group of passengers, according to the pullman conductor whose skilful conniving resulted in the banishment of a few unimportant creatures who had paid for chairs in the observation coach but who had to get out, whether or no, when mr. blithers loudly said it was a nuisance having everything on the shady side of the car taken "on a hot day like this." he surreptitiously informed the conductor that there was a prince in his party, and that highly impressed official at once informed ten other passengers that they had no business in a private car and would have to move up to the car ahead--and rather quickly at that. the prince announced that lieutenant dank had secured comfortable cabins on a steamer sailing saturday, but he did not feel at liberty to mention the name of the boat owing to his determination to avoid newspaper men, who no doubt would move heaven and earth for an interview, now that he had become a person of so much importance in the social world. indeed, his indentity was to be more completely obscured than at any time since he landed on american soil. he thanked mr. blithers for his offer to command the "royal suite" on the _jupiter_, but declined, volunteering the somewhat curt remark that it was his earnest desire to keep as far away from royalty as possible on the voyage over. (a remark that mr. blithers couldn't quite fathom, then or afterward.) mrs. blithers' retort to her husband's shocked comment on the un-princely appearance of the young man and the wofully ordinary suit of clothes worn by the count, was sufficiently caustic, and he was silenced--and convinced. neither of the distinguished foreigners looked the part of a nobleman. "i wouldn't talk about clothes if i were you," mrs. blithers had said on the station platform. "who would suspect you of being one of the richest men in america?" she sent a disdainful glance at his baggy knees and bulging coat pockets, and for the moment he shrank into the state of being one of the poorest men in america. they were surprised and not a little perplexed by the fact that the prince and his companion arrived at the station quite alone. neither of the kings accompanied them. there was, mrs. blithers admitted, food for thought in this peculiar omission on the part of the prince's late host and hostess, and she would have given a great deal to know what was back of it. the "luggage" was attended to by the admirable hobbs, there being no sign of a red roof servant about the place. moreover, there seemed to be considerable uneasiness noticeable in the manner of the two foreigners. they appeared to be unnecessarily impatient for the train to arrive, looking at their watches now and again, and frequently sending sharp glances down the village street in the direction of red roof. blithers afterwards remarked that they made him think of a couple of absconding cashiers. the mystery, however, was never explained. arriving at the grand central terminal, prince robin and the count made off in a taxi-cab, smilingly declining to reveal their hotel destination. "but where am i to send my attorney with the agreement you are to sign, prince?" asked mr. blithers, plainly irritated by the young man's obstinacy in declining to be "dropped" at his hotel by the blithers motor. "i shall come to your office at eleven to-morrow morning, mr. blithers," said robin, his hat in his hand. he had bowed very deeply to mrs. blithers. "but that's not right," blustered the financier. "a prince of royal blood hadn't ought to visit a money-grubber's office. it's not--" "_noblesse oblige_," said robin, with his hand on his heart. "it has been a pleasure to know you, mrs. blithers. i trust we may meet again. if you should ever come to graustark, please consider that the castle is yours--as you hospitable americans would say." "we surely will," said mrs. blithers. both the prince and count quinnox bowed very profoundly, and did not smile. "and it will be ours," added mr. blithers, more to himself than to his wife as the two tall figures moved off with the throng. then to his wife: "now to find out what ship they're sailing on. i'll fix it so they'll _have_ to take the _jupiter_, whether they want to or not." "wouldn't it be wisdom to find out what ship maud is sailing on, will? it seems to me that she is the real problem." "right you are!" said he instantly. "i must be getting dotty in my old age, lou." they were nearing the ritz when she broke a prolonged period of abstraction by suddenly inquiring: "what did you mean when you said to him on the train: 'better think it over, prince,' and what did he mean by the insolent grin he gave you in reply?" mr. blithers looked straight ahead. "business," said he, answering the first question but not the last. chapter viii on board the "jupiter" a grey day at sea. the _jupiter_ seemed to be slinking through the mist and drizzle, so still was the world of waters. the ocean was as smooth as a mill pond; the reflected sky came down bleak and drab and no wind was stirring. the rush of the ship through the glassy, sullen sea produced a fictitious gale across the decks; aside from that there was dead calm ahead and behind. a threat seemed to lurk in the smooth, oily face of the atlantic. far ahead stretched the grey barricade that seemed to mark the spot where the voyage was to end. there was no going beyond that clear-cut line. when the ship came up to it, there would be no more water beyond; naught but a vast space into which the vessel must topple and go on falling to the end of time. the great sirens were silent, for the fog of the night before had lifted, laying bare a desolate plain. the ship was sliding into oblivion, magnificently indifferent to the catastrophe that awaited its arrival at the edge of the universe. and she was sailing the sea alone. all other ships had passed over that sinister line and were plunging toward a bottom that would never be reached, so long is eternity. the decks of the _jupiter_ were wet with the almost invisible drizzle that filled the air, yet they were swarming with the busy pedestrians who never lose an opportunity to let every one know that they are on board. no ship's company is complete without its leg-stretchers. they who never walk a block on dry land without complaining, right manfully lop off miles when walking on the water, and get to be known--at least visually--to the entire first cabin before they have paraded half way across the atlantic. (there was once a man who had the strutting disease so badly that he literally walked from sandy hook to gaunt's rock, but, who, on getting to london, refused to walk from the savoy to the cecil because of a weak heart.) the worst feature about these inveterate water-walkers is that they tread quite as proudly upon other people's feet as they do upon their own, and as often as not they appear to do it from choice. still, that is another story. it has nothing to do with the one we are trying to tell. to resume, the decks of the _jupiter_ were wet and the sky was drab. new york was twenty-four hours astern and the brief sunday service had come to a peaceful end. it died just in time to escape the horrors of a popular programme by the band amidships. the echo of the last amen was a resounding thump on the big bass drum. three tall, interesting looking men stood leaning against the starboard rail of the promenade deck, unmindful of the mist, watching the scurrying throng of exercise fiends. two were young, the third was old, and of the three there was one who merited the second glance that invariably was bestowed upon him by the circling passers-by. each succeeding revolution increased the interest and admiration and people soon began to favour him with frankly unabashed stares and smiles that could not have been mistaken for anything but tribute to his extreme good looks. he stood between the gaunt, soldierly old man with the fierce moustache, and the trim, military young man with one that was close cropped and smart. each wore a blue serge suit and affected a short visored cap of the same material, and each lazily puffed at a very commonplace briar pipe. they in turn were watching the sprightly parade with an interest that was calmly impersonal. they saw no one person who deserved more than a casual glance, and yet the motley crowd passed before them, apparently without end, as if expecting a responsive smile of recognition from the tall young fellow to whom it paid the honest tribute of curiosity. the customary he-gossip and perennial snooper who is always making the voyage no matter what ship one takes or the direction one goes, nosed out the purser and discovered that the young man was r. schmidt of vienna. he was busy thereafter mixing with the throng, volunteering information that had not been solicited but which appeared to be welcome. especially were the young women on board grateful to the he-gossip, when he accosted them as a perfect stranger to tell them the name of another and even more perfect stranger. "evidently an austrian army officer," he always proclaimed, and that seemed to settle it. luckily he did not overhear r. schmidt's impassive estimate of the first cabin parade, or he might have had something to repeat that would not have pleased those who took part in it. "queer looking lot of people," said r. schmidt, and his two companions moodily nodded their heads. "i am sorry we lost those rooms on the _salammbo_," said the younger of his two companions. "i had them positively engaged, money paid down." "some one else came along with more money, dank," observed r. schmidt. "we ought to be thankful that we received anything at all. has it occurred to you that this boat isn't crowded?" "not more than half full," said the older man. "all of the others appeared to be packed from hold to funnel. this must be an unpopular boat." "i don't know where we'd be, however, if mr. blithers hadn't thought of the _jupiter_ almost at the last minute," said r. schmidt. "nine day boat, though," growled the old man. "i don't mind that in the least. she's a steady old tub and that's something." "hobbs tells me that it is most extraordinary to find the east bound steamers crowded at this season of the year," said dank. "he can't understand it at all. the crowds go over in june and july and by this time they should be starting for home. i thought we'd have no difficulty in getting on any one of the big boats, but, by jove, everywhere i went they said they were full up." "it was uncommonly decent of blithers not coming down to see us off," said the elderly man, who was down on the passenger list as totten. "i was apprehensive, 'pon my soul. he stuck like a leech up to the last minute." r. schmidt was reflecting. "it struck me as queer that he had not heard of the transfer of our securities in london." "i cannot understand bernstein & sons selling out at a time when the price of our bonds is considerably below their actual value," said totten, frowning. "a million pounds sterling is what their holdings really represented; according to the despatches they must have sold at a loss of nearly fifty thousand pounds. it is unbelievable that the house can be hard-pressed for money. there isn't a sounder concern in europe than bernstein's." "we should have a marconi-gram to-night or tomorrow in regard to the bid made in paris for the bonds held by the french syndicate," said dank, pulling at his short moustache. "mr. blithers is investigating." "there is something sinister in all this," said r. schmidt. "who is buying up all of the out-standing bonds and what is behind the movement? london has sold all that were held there and paris is approached on the same day. if paris and berlin should sell, nearly four million pounds in graustark bonds will be in the hands of people whose identity and motives appear to be shrouded in the deepest mystery." "and four million pounds represents the entire amount of our bonds held by outside parties," said totten, with a significant shake of his grizzled head. "the remainder are in the possession of our own institutions and the people themselves. we should hear from edelweiss, too, in response to my cablegram. perhaps romano may be able to throw light on the situation. i confess that i am troubled." "russia would have no object in buying up our general bonds, would she?" inquired r. schmidt. "none whatever. she would have nothing to gain. mr. blithers assured me that he was not in the least apprehensive. in fact, he declared that russia would not be buying bonds that do not mature for twelve years to come. there must be some private--eh?" a steward was politely accosting the trio. "i beg pardon, is this mr. totten?" "yes." "message for you, sir, at the purser's." "bring it to my stateroom, totten," said r. schmidt briefly, and the old man hurried away on the heels of the messenger. the two young men sauntered carelessly in an opposite direction and soon disappeared from the deck. a few minutes later, totten entered the luxurious parlour of r. schmidt and laid an unopened wireless message on the table at the young man's elbow. "open it, totten." the old man slit the envelope and glanced at the contents. he nodded his head in answer to an unspoken question. "sold?" asked r. schmidt. "paris and berlin, both of them, prince. every bond has been gobbled up." "does he mention the name of the buyer?" "only by the use of the personal pronoun. he says--'i have taken over the paris and berlin holdings. all is well.' it is signed 'b.' so! now we know." "by jove!" fell from the lips of both men, and then the three graustarkians stared in speechless amazement at each other for the space of a minute before another word was spoken. "blithers!" exclaimed dank, sinking back into his chair. "blithers," repeated totten, but with an entirely different inflection. the word was conviction itself as he pronounced it. r. schmidt indulged in a wry little smile. "it amounts to nearly twenty million dollars, count. that's a great deal of money to spend in the pursuit of an idle whim." "humph!" grunted the old count, and then favoured the sunny-faced prince with a singularly sharp glance. "of course, you understand his game?" "perfectly. it's as clear as day. he intends to be the crown father-in-law. i suppose he will expect graustark to establish an order of royal grandfathers." "it may prove to be no jest, robin," said the count seriously. "my dear quinnox, don't look so sad," cried the prince. "he may have money enough to buy graustark but he hasn't enough to buy grandchildren that won't grow, you know. he is counting chickens before they're hatched, which isn't a good business principle, i'd have you to know." "what was it he said to you at red roof?" "that was nothing. pure bluster." "he said he had never set his heart on anything that he didn't get in the end, wasn't that it?" "i think so. something of the sort. i took it as a joke." "well, i took it as a threat." "a threat?" "a pleasant, agreeable threat, of course. he has set his heart on having the crown of graustark worn by a blithers. that is the long and short of it." "i believe he did say to me in the woods that day that he could put his daughter on any throne in europe if he set his mind to the job," said the prince carelessly. "but you see, the old gentleman is not counting on two very serious sources of opposition when it comes to this particular case. there is maud, you see,--and me." "i am not so sure of the young lady," said the count sententiously. "the opposition may falter a bit there, and half of his battle is won." "you seem to forget, quinnox, that such a marriage is utterly impossible," said the prince coldly, "do you imagine that i would marry--" "pardon me, highness, i said _half_ the battle would be won. i do contemplate a surrender on your part. you are a very pig-headed young man. the most pig-headed i've ever known, if you will forgive me for expressing myself so--" "you've said it a hundred times," laughed the prince, good-naturedly. "don't apologise. not only you but the entire house of nobles have characterised me as pig-headed and i have never even thought of resenting it, so it must be that i believe it to be true." "we have never voiced the opinion, highness, except in reference to our own great desire to bring about the union between our beloved ruler and the crown princess of--" "so," interrupted r. schmidt, "it ought to be very clear to you that if i will not marry to please my loyal, devoted cabinet i certainly shall not marry to please william w. blithers. no doubt the excellent maud is a most desirable person. in any event, she has a mind of her own. i confess that i am sorry to have missed seeing her. we might have got on famously together, seeing that our point of view is apparently unique in this day and age of the world, no, my good friends, mr. blithers is making a poor investment. he will not get the return for his money that he is expecting. if it pleases him to buy our securities, all well and good. he shall lose nothing in the end. but he will find that graustark is not a toy, nor the people puppets. more than all that, i am not a bargain sale prince with christmas tree aspirations, but a very unamiable devil who cultivates an ambition to throw stones at the conventions. not only do i intend to choose my wife but also the court grandfather. and now let us forget the folly of mr. blithers and discuss his methods of business. what does he expect to gain by this extraordinary investment?" count quinnox looked at him rather pityingly. "it appears to be his way of pulling the strings, my boy. he has loaned us something like sixteen millions of dollars. we have agreed to deposit our public service bonds as security against the loan, so that practically equalises the situation. it becomes a purely business transaction. but he sees far ahead. this loan of his matures at practically the same time that our first series of government bonds are due for payment. it will be extremely difficult for a small country, such as graustark, to raise nearly forty millions of dollars in, say ten years. the european syndicates undoubtedly would be willing to renew the loan under a new issue--i think it is called refunding, or something of the sort. but mr. blithers will be in a position to say no to any such arrangement. he holds the whip hand and--" "but, my dear count," interrupted the prince, "what if he does hold it? does he expect to wait ten years before exercising his power? you forget that marriage is his ambition. isn't he taking a desperate risk in assuming that i will not marry before the ten years are up? and, for that matter, his daughter may decide to wed some other chap who--" "that's just the point," said quinnox. "he is arranging it so that you _can't_ marry without his consent." "the deuce you say!" "i am not saying that he can carry out his design, my dear boy, but it is his secret hope, just the same. so far as graustark is concerned, she will stand by you no matter what betides. as you know, there is nothing so dear to our hearts as the proposed union of dawsbergen's crown princess and--" "that's utterly out of the question, count," said the prince, setting his jaws. the count sighed patiently. "so you say, my boy, so you say. but you are not reasonable. how can you know that the crown princess of dawsbergen is not the very mate your soul has been craving--" "that's not the point. i am opposed to this miserable custom of giving in marriage without the consent of the people most vitally concerned, and i shall never recede from my position." "you are very young, my dear prince." "and i intend to remain young, my dear count. loveless marriages make old men and women of youths and maidens. i remember thinking that remark out for myself after a great deal of effort, and you may remember that i sprung it with considerable effect on the cabinet when the matter was formally discussed a year or two ago. you heard about it, didn't you, dank?" "i did, highness." "and every newspaper in the world printed it as coming from me, didn't they? well, there you are. i can't go behind my publicly avowed principles." the young fellow stretched his long body in a sort of luxurious defiance, and eyed his companions somewhat combatively. "sounds very well," growled the count, with scant reverence for royalty, being a privileged person. "now, dank here can marry any one he likes--if she'll have him--and he is only a lieutenant of the guard. why should i,--prince royal and master of all he surveys, so to speak,--why should i be denied a privilege enjoyed by every good-looking soldier who carries a sword in my army--_my_ army, do you understand? i leave it to you, dank, is it fair? who are you that you should presume to think of a happy marriage while i, your prince, am obliged to twiddle my thumbs and say 'all right, bring any old thing along and i'll marry her'? who are you, dank, that's what i'd like to know." his humour was so high-handed that the two soldiers laughed and dank ruefully admitted that he was a lucky dog. "you shall not marry into the blithers family, my lad, if we can help it," said the count, pulling at his moustaches. "i should say not!" said dank, feeling for his. "i should as soon marry a daughter of hobbs," said r. schmidt, getting up from his chair with restored sprightliness. "if he had one, i mean." "the bonds of matrimony and the bonds of government are by no means synonymous," said dank, and felt rather proud of himself when his companions favoured him with a stare of amazement. the excellent lieutenant was not given to persiflage. he felt that for a moment he had scintillated. "shall we send a wireless to blithers congratulating him on his coup?" enquired the prince gaily. "no," said the count. "congratulating ourselves on his coup is better." "good! and you might add that we also are trusting to luck. it may give him something to think about. and now where is hobbs?" said royalty. "here, sir," said hobbs, appearing in the bed-room door, but not unexpectedly. "i heard wot you said about my daughter, sir. it may set your mind at rest, sir, to hear that i am childless." "thank you, hobbs. you are always thinking of my comfort. you may order luncheon for us in the ritz restaurant. the head steward has been instructed to reserve the corner table for the whole voyage." "the 'ead waiter, sir," corrected hobbs politely, and was gone. in three minutes he was back with the information that two ladies had taken the table and refused to be dislodged, although the head waiter had vainly tried to convince them that it was reserved for the passage by r. schmidt and party. "i am quite sure, sir, he put it to them very hagreeably and politely, but the young lady gave 'im the 'aughtiest look i've ever seen on mortal fice, sir, and he came back to me so 'umble that i could 'ardly believe he was an 'ead waiter." "i hope he was not unnecessarily persistent," said the prince, annoyed. "it really is of no consequence where we sit." "ladies first, world without end," said dank. "especially at sea." "he was not persistent, sir. in fact he was hextraordinary subdued all the time he was hexplaining the situation to them. i could tell by the way his back looked, sir." "never mind, hobbs. you ordered luncheon?" "yes, your 'ighness. chops and sweet potatoes and--" "but that's what we had yesterday, hobbs." a vivid red overspread the suddenly dismayed face of hobbs. "'pon my soul, sir, i--i clean forgot that it was yesterday i was thinking of. the young lady gave me such a sharp look, sir, when the 'ead waiter pointed at me that i clean forgot wot i was there for. i will 'urry back and--" "do, hobbs, that's a good fellow. i'm as hungry as a bear. but no chops!" "thank you, sir. no chops. absolutely, sir." he stopped in the doorway. "i daresay it was 'er beauty, sir, that did it. no chops. quite so, sir." "if blithers were only here," sighed dank. "he would make short work of the female invasion. he would have them chucked overboard." "i beg pardon, sir," further adventured hobbs, "but i fancy not even mr. blithers could move that young woman, sir, if she didn't 'appen to want to be moved. never in my life, sir, have i seen--" "run along, hobbs," said the prince. "boiled guinea hen." "and cantaloupe, sir. yes, sir, i quite remember everything now, sir." twenty minutes later, r. schmidt, seated in the ritz restaurant, happened to look fairly into the eyes of the loveliest girl he had ever seen, and on the instant forgave the extraordinary delinquency of the hitherto infallible hobbs. chapter ix the prince meets miss guile later on r. schmidt sat alone in a sheltered corner of the promenade deck, where chairs had been secured by the forehanded hobbs. the thin drizzle now aspired to something more definite in the shape of a steady downpour, and the decks were almost deserted, save for the few who huddled in the unexposed nooks where the sweep and swish of the rain failed to penetrate. there was a faraway look in the young man's eyes, as of one who dreams pleasantly, with little effort but excellent effect. his pipe had gone out, so his dream must have been long and uninterrupted. eight bells sounded, but what is time to a dreamer? then came one bell and two, and now his eyes were closed. two women came and stood over him, but little did they suspect that his dream was of one of them: the one with the lovely eyes and the soft brown hair. they surveyed him, whispering, the one with a little perplexed frown on her brow, the other with distinct signs of annoyance in her face. the girl was not more than twenty, her companion quite old enough to be her mother: a considerate if not complimentary estimate, for a girl's mother may be either forty, fifty or even fifty-five, when you come to think of it. they were looking for something. that was quite clear. and it was deplorably clear that whatever it was, r. schmidt was sitting upon it. they saw that he was asleep, which made the search if not the actual recovery quite out of the question. the older woman was on the point of poking the sleeper with the toe of her shoe, being a matter-of-fact sort of person, when the girl imperatively shook her head and frowned upon the lady in a way to prove that even though she was old enough to be the mother of a girl of twenty she was by no means the mother of this one. at that very instant, r. schmidt opened his eyes. it must have been a kindly poke by the god of sleep that aroused him so opportunely, but even so, the toe of a shoe could not have created a graver catastrophe than that which immediately befell him. he completely lost his head. if one had suddenly asked what had become of it, he couldn't have told, not for the life of him. for that matter, he couldn't have put his finger, so to speak, on any part of his person and proclaimed with confidence that it belonged to r. schmidt of vienna. he was looking directly up into a pair of dark, startled eyes, in which there was a very pretty confusion and a far from impervious blink. "i beg your pardon," said the older woman, without the faintest trace of embarrassment,--indeed, with some asperity,--"i think you are occupying one of our chairs." he scrambled out of the steamer rug and came to his feet, blushing to the roots of his hair. "i beg your pardon," he stammered, and found his awkwardness rewarded by an extremely sweet smile--in the eyes of the one he addressed. "we were looking for a letter that i am quite sure was left in my chair," said she. "a letter?" he murmured vaguely, and at once began to search with his eyes. "from her father," volunteered the elderly one, as if it were a necessary bit of information. then she jerked the rug away and three pairs of eyes examined the place where r. schmidt had been reclining. "that's odd. did you happen to see it when you sat down, sir?" "i am confident that there was no letter--" began he, and then allowed his gaze to rest on the name-card at the top of the chair. "this happens to be _my_ chair, madam," he went on, pointing to the card. "'r. schmidt.' i am very sorry." "the steward must have put that card there while you were at luncheon, dear. what right has he to sell our chairs over again? i shall report this to the captain--" "i am quite positive that this is my chair, sir," said the girl, a spot of red in each cheek. "it was engaged two days ago. i have been occupying it since--but it really doesn't matter. it has your name on it now, so i suppose i shall have to--" "not at all," he made haste to say. "it's yours. there has been some miserable mistake. these deck stewards are always messing things up. still, it is rather a mystery about the letter. i assure you i saw no--" "no doubt the steward who changed the cards had sufficient intelligence to remove all incriminating evidence," said she coolly. "we shall find it among the lost, strayed and stolen articles, no doubt. pray retain the chair, mr.--" she peered at the name-card--"mr. schmidt." her cool insolence succeeded in nettling a nature that was usually most gentle. he spoke with characteristic directness. "thank you, i shall do so. we thereby manage to strike a fair average. i seize your deck chair, you seize my table. we are quits." she smiled faintly. "r. schmidt did not sound young and gentle, but old and hateful. that is why i seized the table. i expected to find r. schmidt a fat, old german with very bad manners. instead, you are neither fat, old, nor disagreeable. you took it very nicely, mr. schmidt, and i am undone. won't you permit me to restore your table to you?" the elderly lady was tapping the deck with a most impatient foot. "really my dear, we were quite within our rights in approaching the head waiter. he--" "he said it was engaged," interrupted the young lady. "r. schmidt was the name he gave and i informed him it meant nothing to me. i am very sorry, mr. schmidt. i suppose it was all because i am so accustomed to having my own way." "in that case, it is all very easy to understand," said he, "for i have always longed to be in a position where i could have my own way. i am sure that if i could have it, i would be a most overbearing, selfish person." "we must enquire at the office for the letter, my dear, before--" "it may have dropped behind the chair," said the girl. "right!" cried r. schmidt, dragging the chair away and pointing in triumph at the missing letter. he stooped to recover the missive, but she was quick to forestall him. with a little gasp she pounced upon it and, like a child proceeded to hold it behind her back. he stiffened. "i remember that you said it was from your father." she hesitated an instant and then held it forth for his inspection, rather adroitly concealing the postmark with her thumb. it was addressed to "miss b. guile, s. s. _jupiter_, new york city, n. y.," and type-written. "it is only fair that we should be quits in every particular," she said, with a frank smile. he bowed. "a letter of introduction," he said, "in the strictest sense of the word. you have already had my card thrust upon you, so everything is quite regular. and now it is only right and proper that i should see what has become of your chairs. permit me--" "really, miss guile," interposed her companion, "this is quite irregular. i may say it is unusual. pray allow me to suggest--" "i think it is only right that mr. schmidt should return good for evil," interrupted the girl gaily. "please enquire, mr. schmidt. no doubt the deck steward will know." again the prince bowed, but this time there was amusement instead of uncertainty in his eyes. it was the first time that any one had ever urged him, even by inference, to "fetch and carry." moreover, she was extremely cool about it, as one who exacts much of young men in serge suits and outing-caps. he found himself wondering what she would say if he were to suddenly announce that he was the prince of graustark. the thought tickled his fancy, accounting, no doubt, for the even deeper bow that he gave her. "they can't be very far away," he observed quite meekly. "oh, i say, steward! one moment, here." a deck steward approached with alacrity. "what has become of miss guile's chair?" the man touched his cap and beamed joyously upon the fair young lady. "ach! see how i have forgot! it is here! the best place on the deck--on any deck. see! two--side by side,--above the door, away from the draft--see, in the corner, ha, ha! yes! two by side. the very best. miss guile complains of the draft from the door. i exchanged the chairs. see! but i forgot to speak. yes! see!" and, sure enough, there were the chairs of miss guile and her companion snugly stowed away in the corner, standing at right angles to the long row that lined the deck, the foot rests pointed directly at the chair r. schmidt had just vacated, not more than a yard and a half away. "how stupid!" exclaimed miss guile. "thank you, steward. this is much better. so sorry, mr. schmidt, to have disturbed you. i abhor drafts, don't you?" "not to the extent that i shall move out of this one," he replied gallantly, "now that i've got an undisputed claim to it. i intend to stand up for my rights, miss guile, even though you find me at your feet." "how perfectly love--" began miss guile, a gleam of real enthusiasm in her eyes. a sharp, horrified look from her companion served as a check, and she became at once the coolly indifferent creature who exacts everything. "thank you, mr. schmidt, for being so nice when we were trying so hard to be horrid." "but you don't know how nice you are when you are trying to be horrid," he remarked. "are you not going to sit down, now that we've captured the disappearing chair?" "no," she said, and he fancied he saw regret in her eyes. "i am going to my room,--if i can find it. no doubt it also is lost. this seems to be a day for misplacing things." "at any rate, permit me to thank you for discovering me, miss guile." "oh, i daresay i shall misplace you, too, mr. schmidt." she said it so insolently that he flushed as he drew himself up and stepped aside to allow her to pass. for an instant their eyes met, and the sign of the humble was not to be found in the expression of either. "even _that_ will be something for me to look forward to, miss guile," said he. far from being vexed, she favoured him with a faint smile of--was it wonder or admiration? then she moved away, followed by the uneasy lady--who was old enough to be her mother and wasn't. robin remained standing for a moment, looking after her, and somehow he felt that his dream was not yet ended. she turned the corner of the deck building and was lost to sight. he sat down, only to arise almost instantly, moved by a livelier curiosity than he ever had felt before. conscious of a certain feeling of stealth, he scrutinised the cards in the backs of the two chairs. the steward was collecting the discarded steamer-rugs farther down the deck, and the few passengers who occupied chairs, appeared to be snoozing,--all of which he took in with his first appraising glance. "miss guile" and "mrs. gaston" were the names he read. "americans," he mused. "young lady and chaperone, that's it. a real american beauty! and blithers loudly boasts that his daughter is the prettiest girl in america! shades of venus! can there be such a thing on earth as a prettier girl than this one? can nature have performed the impossible? is america so full of lovely girls that this one must take second place to a daughter of blithers? i wonder if she knows the imperial maud. i'll make it a point to inquire." moved by a sudden restlessness, he decided that he was in need of exercise. a walk would do him good. the same spirit of restlessness, no doubt, urged him to walk rather rapidly in the direction opposite to that taken by the lovely miss guile. after completely circling the deck once he decided that he did not need the exercise after all. his walk had not benefitted him in the least. she _had_ gone to her room. he returned to his chair, conscious of having been defeated but without really knowing why or how. as he turned into the dry, snug corner, he came to an abrupt stop and stared. miss guile was sitting in her chair, neatly encased in a mummy-like sheath of grey that covered her slim body to the waist. she was quite alone in her nook, and reading. evidently the book interested her, for she failed to look up when he clumsily slid into his chair and threw the rug over his legs--dreadfully long, uninteresting legs, he thought, as he stretched them out and found that his feet protruded like a pair of white obelisks. naturally he looked seaward, but in his mind's eye he saw her as he had seen her not more than ten minutes before: a slim, tall girl in a smart buff coat, with a limp white hat drawn down over her hair by means of a bright green veil; he had had a glimpse of staunch tan walking-shoes. he found himself wondering how he had missed her in the turn about the deck, and how she could have ensconced herself so snugly during his brief evacuation of the spot. suddenly it occurred to him that she had returned to the chair only after discovering that his was vacant. it wasn't a very gratifying conclusion. an astonishing intrepidity induced him to speak to her after a lapse of five or six minutes, and so surprising was the impulse that he blurted out his question without preamble. "how did you manage to get back so quickly?" he inquired. she looked up, and for an instant there was something like alarm in her lovely eyes, as of one caught in the perpetration of a guilty act. "i beg your pardon," she said, rather indistinctly. "i was away less than eight minutes," he declared, and she was confronted by the wonderfully frank smile that never failed to work its charm. to his surprise, a shy smile grew in her eyes, and her warm red lips twitched uncertainly. he had expected a cold rebuff. "you must have dropped through the awning." "your imagination is superior to that employed by the author of this book," she said, "and that is saying a good deal, mr.--mr.--" "schmidt," he supplied cheerfully. "may i inquire what book you are reading?" "you would not be interested. it is by an american." "i have read a great many american novels," said he stiffly. "my father was an american. awfully jolly books, most of them." "i looked you up in the passenger list a moment ago," she said coolly. "your home is in vienna. i like vienna." he was looking rather intently at the book, now partly lowered. "isn't that the passenger list you have concealed in that book?" he demanded. "it is," she replied promptly. "you will pardon a natural curiosity? i wanted to see whether you were from new york." "may i look at it, please?" she closed the book. "it isn't necessary. i _am_ from new york." "by the way, do you happen to know a miss blithers,--maud blithers?" miss guile frowned reflectively. "blithers? the name is a familiar one. maud blithers? what is she like?" "she's supposed to be very good-looking. i've never seen her." "how queer to be asking me if i know her, then. why _do_ you ask?" "i've heard so much about her lately. she is the daughter of william blithers, the great capitalist." "oh, i know who he is," she exclaimed. "perfect roodles of money, hasn't he?" "roodles?" "loads, if it means more to you. i forgot that you are a foreigner. he gave that wonderful ball last week for the prince of--of--oh, some insignificant little place over in europe. there are such a lot of queer little duchies and principalities, don't you know; it is quite impossible to tell one from the other. they don't even appear on the maps." he took it with a perfectly straight face, though secretly annoyed. "it was the talk of the town, that ball. it must have cost roodles of money. is that right?" "yes, but it doesn't sound right when you say it. naturally one doesn't say roodles in vienna." "we say noodles," said he. "i am very fond of them. but to resume; i supposed every one in new york knew miss blithers. she's quite the rage, i'm told." "indeed? i should think she might be, mr. schmidt, with all those lovely millions behind her." he smiled introspectively. "yes; and i am told that, in spite of them, she is the prettiest girl in new york." she appeared to lose interest in the topic. "oh, indeed?" "but," he supplemented gracefully, "it isn't true." "what isn't true?" "the statement that she is the prettiest girl in new york." "how can you say that, when you admit you've never seen her?" "i can say it with a perfectly clear conscience, miss guile," said he, and was filled with delight when she bit her lip as a sign of acknowledgment. "oh, here comes the tea," she cried, with a strange eagerness in her voice. "i am so glad." she scrambled gracefully out of her rug and arose to her feet. "aren't you going to have some?" he cried. "yes," she said, quite pointedly. "in my room, mr. schmidt," and before he could get to his feet she was moving away without so much as a nod or smile for him. indeed, she appeared to have dismissed him from her thoughts quite as completely as from her vision. he experienced a queer sensation of shrivelling. at dinner that night, she failed to look in his direction, a circumstance that may not appear extraordinary when it is stated that she purposely or inadvertently exchanged seats with mrs. gaston and sat with her back to the table occupied by r. schmidt and his friends. he had to be content with a view of the most exquisite back and shoulders that good fortune had ever allowed him to gaze upon. and then there was the way that her soft brown hair grew above the slender neck, to say nothing of--but mrs. gaston was watching him with most unfriendly eyes, so the feast was spoiled. the following day was as unlike its predecessor as black is like white. during the night the smooth grey pond had been transformed into a turbulent, storm-threshed ocean; the once gentle wind was now a howling gale that swept the decks with a merciless lash in its grip and whipped into submission all who vaingloriously sought to defy its chill dominion. not rain, but spray from huge, swashing billows, clouded the decks, biting and cutting like countless needles, each drop with the sting of a hornet behind it. now the end of the world seemed far away, and the jumping off place was a rickety wall of white and black, leaning against a cold, drear sky. only the hardiest of the passengers ventured on deck; the exhilaration they professed was but another name for bravado. they shivered and gasped for breath as they forged their bitter way into the gale, and few were they who took more than a single turn of the deck. like beaten cowards they soon slunk into the sheltered spots, or sought even less heroic means of surrender by tumbling into bed with the considerate help of unsmiling stewards. the great ship went up and the great ship came down: when up so high that the sky seemed to be startlingly near and down so horribly low that the bottom of the ocean was even nearer. and it creaked and groaned and sighed even above the wild monody of the wind, like a thing in misery, yet all the while holding its sides to keep from bursting with laughter over the plight of the little creature whom god made after his own image but not until after all of the big things of the universe had been designed. r. schmidt, being a good sailor and a hardy young chap, albeit a prince of royal blood, was abroad early, after a breakfast that staggered the few who remained unstaggered up to that particular crisis. a genial sailor-man and an equally ungenial deck swabber advised him, in totally different styles of address, to stay below if he knew what was good for him, only to be thanked with all the blitheness of a man who jolly well knows what is good for him, or who doesn't care whether it is good for him or not so long as he is doing the thing that he wants to do. he took two turns about the deck, and each time as he passed the spot he sent a covert glance into the corner where miss guile's chair was standing. of course he did not expect to find her there in weather like this, but--well, he looked and that is the end to the argument. the going was extremely treacherous and unpleasant he was free to confess to the genial sailor-man after the second breathless turn, and gave that worthy a bright silver dollar upon receiving a further bit of advice: to sit down somewhere out of the wind, sir. quinnox and dank were hopelessly bed-ridden, so to speak. they were very disagreeable, cross and unpleasant, and somehow he felt that they hated their cheerful, happy-faced prince. never before had count quinnox scowled at him, no matter how mad his pranks as a child or how silly his actions as a youth. never before had any one told him to go to the devil. he rather liked it. and he rather admired poor dank for ordering him out of his cabin, with a perfectly astounding oath as a climax to the command. moreover, he thought considerably better of the faithful hobbs for an amazing exposition of human equality in the matter of a pair of boots that he desired to wear that morning but which happened to be stowed away in a cabin trunk. he told hobbs to go to the devil and hobbs repeated the injunction, with especial heat, to the boots, when he bumped his head in hauling them out of the trunk. whereupon r. schmidt said to hobbs: "good for you. hobbs. go on, please. don't mind me. it was quite a thump, wasn't it?" and hobbs managed, between other words, to say that it was a whacking thump, and one he would not forget to his dying day--(if he lived through this one!). "and you'd do well to sit in the smoke-room, sir," further advised the sailor-man, clinging to the rail with one hand and pocketing the coin with the other. "no," said r. schmidt resolutely. "i don't like the air in the smoke-room." "there's quite a bit of air out 'ere, sir." "i need quite a bit." "i should think you might, sir, being a 'ealthy, strappin' sort of a chap, sir. 'elp yourself. all the chairs is yours if you'll unpile 'em." the young man battled his way down the deck and soon found himself in the well-protected corner. a half-dozen unoccupied chairs were cluttered about, having been abandoned by persons who over-estimated their hardiness. one of the stewards was engaged in stacking them up and making them fast. miss guile's chair and that of mrs. gaston were staunchly fastened down and their rugs were in place. r. schmidt experienced an exquisite sensation of pleasure. here was a perfect exemplification of that much-abused thing known as circumstantial evidence. she contemplated coming on deck. so he had his chair put in place, called for his rug, shrugged his chin down into the collar of his thick ulster, and sat down to wait. chapter x an hour on deck she literally was blown into his presence. he sprang to his feet to check her swift approach before she could be dashed against the wall or upon the heap of chairs in the corner. the deep roll of the vessel had ended so suddenly that she was thrown off her balance, at best precariously maintained in the hurricane that swept her along the deck. she was projected with considerable violence against the waiting figure of r. schmidt, who had hastily braced himself for the impact of the slender body in the thick sea-ulster. she uttered an excited little shriek as she came bang up against him and found his ready arms closing about her shoulders. "oh, goodness!" she gasped, with what little breath she had left, and then began to laugh as she freed herself in confusion--a very pretty confusion he recalled later on, after he had recovered to some extent from the effects of an exceedingly severe bump on the back of his head. "how awkward!" "not at all," he proclaimed, retaining a grip on one of her arms until the ship showed some signs of resuming its way eastward instead of downward. "i am sure it must have hurt dreadfully," she cried. "nothing hurts worse than a bump. it seemed as though you must have splintered the wall." "i have a singularly hard head," said he, and forthwith felt of the back of it. "will you please stand ready to receive boarders? my maid is following me, poor thing, and i can't afford to have her smashed to pieces. here she is!" quite a pretty maid, with wide, horrified eyes and a pale green complexion came hustling around the corner. r. schmidt, albeit a prince, received her with open arms. "merci, m'sieur!" she squealed and added something in muffled french that strangely reminded him of what hobbs had said in english. then she deposited an armful of rugs and magazines at robin's feet, and clutched wildly at a post actually some ten feet away but which appeared to be coming toward her with obliging swiftness, so nicely was the deck rotating for her. "mon dieu! mon dieu!" "you may go back to bed, marie," cried her mistress in some haste. "but ze rug, i feex it--" groaned the unhappy maid, and then once more: "merci, m'sieur!" she clung to the arm he extended, and tried bravely to smile her thanks. "here! go in through this door," he said, bracing the door open with his elbow. "you'll be all right in a little while. keep your nerve." he closed the door after her and turned to the amused miss guile. "well, it's an ill wind that blows no good," he said enigmatically, and she flushed under the steady smile in his eyes. "allow me to arrange your rug for you. miss guile." "thank you, no. i think i would better go inside. it is really too windy--" "the wind can't get at you back here in this cubbyhole," he protested. "do sit down. i'll have you as snug as a bug in a rug before you can say jack robinson. see! now stick 'em out and i'll wrap it around them. there! you're as neatly done up as a mummy and a good deal better off, because you are a long way short of being two thousand years old." "how is your head, mr. schmidt?" she inquired with grave concern. "you seem to be quite crazy. i hope--" "every one is a little bit mad, don't you think? especially in moments of great excitement. i daresay my head _has_ been turned quite appreciably, and i'm glad that you've been kind enough to notice it. where is mrs. gaston?" he was vastly exhilarated. she regarded him with eyes that sparkled and belied the unamiable nature of her reply. "the poor lady is where she is not at all likely to be annoyed, mr. schmidt." then she took up a magazine and coolly began to run through the pages. he waited for a moment, considerably dashed, and then said "oh," in a very unfriendly manner. she found her place in the magazine, assumed a more comfortable position, and, with noteworthy resolution, set about reading as if her life depended upon it. he sat down, pulled the rug up to his chin, and stared out at the great, heaving billows. suddenly remembering another injury, he felt once more of the back of his head. "by jove!" he exclaimed. "there _is_ a lump there." "i can't hear you," she said, allowing the magazine to drop into her lap, but keeping her place carefully marked with one of her fingers. "i can hear you perfectly," he said. "it's the way the wind blows," she explained. "easily remedied," said he. "i'll move into mrs. gaston's chair if you think it will help any." "do!" she said promptly. "you will not disturb me in the least,--unless you talk." she resumed her reading, half a page above the finger tip. he moved over and arranged himself comfortably, snugly in mrs. gaston's chair. their elbows almost met. he was prepared to be very patient. for a long time she continued to read, her warm, rosy cheek half-averted, her eyes applied to their task with irritating constancy. he did not despair. some wise person once had told him that it was only necessary to give a woman sufficient time and she would be the one to despair. a few passengers possessed of proud sea-legs, staggered past the snug couple on their ridiculous rounds of the ship. if they thought of miss guile and r. schmidt at all it was with the scorn that is usually devoted to youth at its very best. there could be no doubt in the passing mind that these two were sweethearts who managed to thrive on the smallest of comforts. at last his patience was rewarded. she lowered the magazine and stifled a yawn--but not a real one. "have you read it?" she inquired composedly. "a part of it," he said. "over your shoulder." "is that considered polite in vienna?" "if you only knew what a bump i've got on the back of my head you wouldn't be so ungracious." he said. "i couldn't possibly know, could i?" he leaned forward and indicated the spot on the back of his head, first removing his cap. she laughed nervously, and then gently rubbed her fingers over the thick hair. "there is a dreadful lump!" she exclaimed. "oh, how sorry i am. do--do you feel faint or--or--i mean, is it very painful?" "not now," he replied, replacing his cap and favouring her with his most engaging smile. she smiled in response, betraying not the slightest sign of embarrassment. as a matter of fact, she was, if anything, somewhat too self-possessed. "i remember falling down stairs once," she said, "and getting a stupendous bump on my forehead. but that was a great many years ago and i cried. how was i to know that it hurt you, mr. schmidt, when you neglected to cry?" "heroes never cry," said he. "it isn't considered first-class fiction, you know." "am i to regard you as a hero?" "if you will be so kind, please." she laughed outright at this. "i think i rather like you, mr. schmidt," she said, with unexpected candour. "oh, i fancy i'm not at all bad," said he, after a momentary stare of astonishment. "i am especially good in rough weather," he went on, trying to forget that he was a prince of the royal blood, a rather difficult matter when one stops to consider he was not in the habit of hearing people say that they rather liked him. "do your friends come from vienna?" she inquired abruptly. "yes," he said, and then saved his face as usual by adding under his breath: "but they don't live there." it was not in him to lie outright, hence the handy way of appeasing his conscience. "they are very interesting looking men, especially the younger. i cannot remember when i have seen a more attractive man." "he is a splendid chap," exclaimed robin, with genuine enthusiasm. "i am very fond of dank." she was silent for a moment. something had failed, and she was rather glad of it. "do you like new york?" she asked. "immensely. i met a great many delightful people there. miss guile. you say you do not know the blithers family? mr. blithers is a rare old bird." "isn't there some talk of his daughter being engaged to the prince of graustark?" he felt that his ears were red. "the newspapers hinted at something of the sort, i believe." he was suddenly possessed by the curious notion that he was being "pumped" by his fair companion. indeed, a certain insistent note had crept into her voice and her eyes were searching his with an intentness that had not appeared in them until now. "have you seen him?" "the prince?" "yes. what is he like?" "i've seen pictures of him," he equivocated. "rather nice looking, i should say." "of course he is like all foreign noblemen and will leap at the blithers millions if he gets the chance. i sometimes feel sorry for the poor wretches." there was more scorn than pity in the way she said it, however, and her velvety eyes were suddenly hard and uncompromising. he longed to defend himself, in the third person, but could not do so for very strong and obvious reasons. he allowed himself the privilege, however, of declaring that foreign noblemen are not always as black as they are painted. and then, for a very excellent reason, he contrived to change the subject by asking where she was going on the continent. "i may go to vienna," she said, with a smile that served to puzzle rather than to delight him. he was more than ever convinced that she was playing with him. "but pray do not look so gloomy, mr. schmidt, i shall not make any demands upon your time while i am there. you may--" "i am quite sure of that," he interrupted, with his ready smile. "you see, i am a person of no consequence in vienna, while you--ah, well, as an american girl you will be hobnobbing with the nobility while the humble schmidt sits afar off and marvels at the kindness of a fate that befell him in the middle of the atlantic ocean, and yet curses the fate that makes him unworthy of the slightest notice from the aforesaid american girl. for, i daresay, miss guile, you, like all american girls, are ready to leap at titles." "that really isn't fair, mr. schmidt," she protested, flushing. "why should you and i quarrel over a condition that cannot apply to either of us? you are not a nobleman, and i am not a title-seeking american girl. so, why all this beautiful irony?" "it only remains for me to humbly beg your pardon and to add that if you come to vienna my every waking hour shall be devoted to the pleasure of--" "i am sorry i mentioned it, mr. schmidt," she interrupted coldly. "you may rest easy, for i shall not keep you awake for a single hour. besides, i may not go to vienna at all." "i am sure you would like vienna," he said, somewhat chilled by her manner. "i have been there, with my parents, but it was a long time ago. i once saw the emperor and often have i seen the wonderful prince liechtenstein." "have you travelled extensively in europe?" she was smiling once more. "i don't know what you would consider extensively," she said. "i was educated in paris, i have spent innumerable winters in rome and quite as many summers in scotland, england, switzerland, germ--" "i know who you are!" he cried out enthusiastically. to his amazement, a startled expression leaped into her eyes. "you are travelling under an assumed name." she remained perfectly still, watching him with an anxious smile on her lips. "you are no other than miss baedeker, the well-known authoress." it seemed to him that she breathed deeply. at any rate, her brow cleared and her smile was positively enchanting. never, in all his life, had he gazed upon a lovelier face. his heart began to beat with a rapidity that startled him, and a queer little sensation, as of smothering, made it difficult for him to speak naturally in his next attempt. "in that case, my pseudonym should be guide, not guile," she cried merrily. the dimples played in her cheeks and her eyes were dancing. "b. stands for baedeker, i'm sure. baedeker guide. if the b. isn't for baedeker, what is it for?" "are you asking what the b. really stands for, mr. schmidt?" "in a round-about way, miss guile," he admitted. "my name is bedelia," she said, with absolute sincerity. "me mither is irish, d'ye see?" "by jove, it's worth a lot of trouble to get you to smile like that," he cried admiringly. "it is the first really honest smile you've displayed. if you knew how it improves you, you'd be doing it all of the time." "smiles are sometimes expensive." "it depends on the market." "i never take them to a cheap market. they are not classed as necessities." "you couldn't offer them to any one who loves luxuries more than i do." "you pay for them only with compliments, i see, and there is nothing so cheap." "am i to take that as a rebuke?" "if possible," she said sweetly. at this juncture, the miserable hobbs hove into sight, not figuratively but literally. he came surging across the deck in a mad dash from one haven to another, or, more accurately, from post to post. "i beg pardon, sir," he gasped, finally steadying himself on wide-spread legs within easy reach of robin's sustaining person. "there is a wireless for mr. totten, sir, but when i took it to 'im he said to fetch it to you, being unable to hold up 'is head, wot with the wretched meal he had yesterday and the--" "i see, hobbs. well, where is it?" hobbs looked embarrassed. "well, you see, sir, i 'esitated about giving it to you when you appear to be so--" "never mind. you may give it to me. miss guile will surely pardon me if i devote a second or two to an occupation she followed so earnestly up to a very short time ago." "pray forget that i am present, mr. schmidt," she said, and smiled upon the bewildered hobbs, who after an instant delivered the message to his master. robin read it through and at the end whistled softly. "take it to mr. totten, hobbs, and see if it will not serve to make him hold up his head a little." "very good, sir. i hope it will. wouldn't it be wise for me to hannounce who it is from, sir, to sort of prepare him for--" "he knows who it is from, hobbs, so you needn't worry. it is from home, if it will interest you, hobbs." "thank you, sir, it does interest me. i thought it might be from mr. blithers." robin's scowl sent him scuttling away a great deal more rigidly than when he came. "idiot!" muttered the young man, still scowling. there was silence between the two for a few seconds. then she spoke disinterestedly: "is it from the mr. blithers who has the millions and the daughter who wants to marry a prince?" "merely a business transaction, miss guile," he said absently. he was thinking of romano's message. "so it would appear." "i beg pardon? i was--er--thinking--" "it was of no consequence, mr. schmidt," she said airily. he picked up the thread once more. "as a matter of fact, i've heard it said that miss blithers refused to marry the prince." "is it possible?" with fine irony. "is he such a dreadful person as all that?" "i'm sure i don't know," murmured robin uncomfortably. "he may be no more dreadful than she." "i cannot hear you, mr. schmidt," she persisted, with unmistakeable malice in her lovely eyes. "i'm rather glad that you didn't," he confessed. "silly remark, you know." "well, i hope she doesn't marry him," said miss guile. "so do i," said r. schmidt, and their eyes met. after a moment, she looked away, her first surrender to the mysterious something that lay deep in his. "it would prove that all american girls are not so black as they're painted, wouldn't it?" she said, striving to regain the ground she had lost by that momentary lapse. "pray do not overlook the fact that i am half american," he said. "you must not expect me to say that they paint at all." "schmidt is a fine old american name," she mused, the mischief back in her eyes. "and so is bedelia," said he. "will you pardon me, mr. schmidt, if i express surprise that you speak english without the tiniest suggestion of an accent?" "i will pardon you for everything and anything, miss guile," said he, quite too distinctly. she drew back in her chair and the light of raillery died in her eyes. "what an imperial sound it has!" "and why not? the r stands for rex." "ah, that accounts for the king's english!" "certainly," he grinned. "the king can do no wrong, don't you see?" "your servant who was here speaks nothing but the king's english, i perceive. perhaps that accounts for a great deal." "hobbs? i mean to say,'obbs? i confess that he has taught me many tricks of the tongue. he is one of the crown jewels." suddenly, and without reason, she appeared to be bored. as a matter of fact, she hid an incipient yawn behind her small gloved hand. "i think i shall go to my room. will you kindly unwrap me, mr. schmidt?" he promptly obeyed, and then assisted her to her feet, steadying her against the roll of the vessel. "i shall pray for continuous rough weather," he announced, with as gallant a bow as could be made under the circumstances. "thank you," she said, and he was pleased to take it that she was not thanking him for a physical service. a few minutes later he was in his own room, and she was in hers, and the promenade deck was as barren as the desert of sahara. he found count quinnox stretched out upon his bed, attended not only by hobbs but also the reanimated dank. the crumpled message lay on the floor. "i'm glad you waited awhile," said the young lieutenant, getting up from the trunk on which he had been sitting. "if you had come any sooner you would have heard words fit only for a soldier to hear. it really was quite appalling." "he's better now," said hobbs, more respectfully than was his wont. it was evident that he had sustained quite a shock. "well, what do you think of it?" demanded the prince, pointing to the message. "of all the confounded impudence--" began the count healthily, and then uttered a mighty groan of impotence. it was clear that he could not do justice to the occasion a second time. robin picked up the marconigram, and calmly smoothed out the crinkles. then he read it aloud, very slowly and with extreme disgust in his fine young face. it was a lengthy communication from baron romano, the prime minister in edelweiss. "'preliminary agreement signed before hearing blithers had bought london, paris, berlin. he cables his immediate visit to g. object now appears clear. all newspapers in europe print despatches from america that marriage is practically arranged between r. and m. interviews with blithers corroborate reported engagement. europe is amused. editorials sarcastic. price on our securities advance two points on confirmation of report. we are bewildered. also vague rumour they have eloped, but denied by b. dawsbergen silent. what does it all mean? wire truth to me. people are uneasy. gourou will meet you in paris.'" [illustration: "i shall pray for continuous rough weather"] in the adjoining suite, miss guile was shaking mrs. gaston out of a long-courted and much needed sleep. the poor lady sat up and blinked feebly at the excited, starry-eyed girl. "wake up!" cried bedelia impatiently. "what do you think? i have a perfectly wonderful suspicion--perfectly wonderful." "how can you be so unfeeling?" moaned the limp lady. "this r. schmidt is prince robin of graustark!" cried the girl excitedly. "i am sure of it--just as sure as can be." mrs. gaston's eyes were popping, not with amazement but alarm. "do lie down, child," she whimpered. "marie! the sleeping powders at once! do--" "oh, i'm not mad," cried the girl. "now listen to me and i'll tell you why i believe--yes, actually believe him to be the--" "marie, do you hear me?" miss guile shook her vigorously. "wake up! it isn't a nightmare. now listen!" chapter xi the lieutenant receives orders the next day brought not only an agreeable change in the weather but a most surprising alteration in the manner of mrs. gaston, whose attitude toward r. schmidt and his friends had been anything but amicable up to the hour of miss guile's discovery. the excellent lady, recovering very quickly from her indisposition became positively polite to the hitherto repugnant mr. schmidt. she melted so abruptly and so completely that the young man was vaguely troubled. he began to wonder if his incognito had been pierced, so to speak. it was not reasonable to suppose that miss guile was personally responsible for this startling transition from the inimical to the gracious on the part of her companion; the indifference of miss guile herself was sufficient proof to the contrary. therefore, when mrs. gaston nosed him out shortly after breakfast and began to talk about the beautiful day in a manner so thoroughly respectful that it savoured of servility, he was taken-aback, flabbergasted. she seemed to be on the point of dropping her knee every time she spoke to him, and there was an unmistakable tremor of excitement in her voice even when she confided to him that she adored the ocean when it was calm. he forbore asking when miss guile might be expected to appear on deck for her constitutional but she volunteered the information, which was neither vague nor yet definite. in fact, she said that miss guile would be up soon, and soon is a word that has a double meaning when applied to the movements of capricious womanhood. it may mean ten minutes and it may mean an hour and a half. mrs. gaston's severely critical eyes were no longer severe, albeit they were critical. she took him in from head to foot with the eye of an appraiser, and the more she took him in the more she melted, until at last in order to keep from completely dissolving, she said good-bye to him and hurried off to find miss guile. now it is necessary to relate that miss guile had been particularly firm in her commands to mrs. gaston. she literally had stood the excellent lady up in a corner and lectured her for an hour on the wisdom of silence. in the first place, mrs. gaston was given to understand that she was not to breathe it to a soul that r. schmidt was not r. schmidt, and she was not to betray to him by word or sign that he was suspected of being the prince of graustark. moreover, the exacting miss guile laid great stress upon another command: r. schmidt was never to know that she was _not_ miss guile, but some one else altogether. "you're right, my dear," exclaimed mrs. gaston in an excited whisper as she burst in upon her fair companion, who was having coffee and toast in her parlour. the more or less resuscitated marie was waiting to do up her mistress's hair, and the young lady herself was alluringly charming in spite of the fact that it was not already "done up." "he is the--er--he is just what you think." "good heavens, you haven't gone and done it, have you," cried the girl, a slim hand halting with a piece of toast half way to her lips. "gone and done it?" "you haven't been blabbing, have you?" "how can you say that to me? am i not to be trusted? am i so weak and--" "don't cry, you old dear! forgive me. but now tell me--absolutely--just what you've been up to. don't mind marie. she is french. she can always hold her tongue." "well, i've been talking with him, that's all. i'm sure he is the prince. no ordinary male could be as sweet and agreeable and sunny as--" "stop!" cried miss guile, with a pretty moue, putting the tips of her fingers to her ears after putting the piece of toast into her mouth. "one would think you were a sentimental old maid instead of a cold-blooded, experienced, man-hating married woman." "you forget that i am a widow, my dear. besides, it is disgusting for one to speak with one's mouth full of buttered toast. it--" "oh, how i used to loathe you when you kept forever ding-donging at me about the way i ate when i was almost starving. were you never a hungry little kid? did you never lick jam and honey off your fingers and--" "many and many a time," confessed mrs. gaston, beaming once more and laying a gentle, loving hand on the girl's shoulder. miss guile dropped her head over until her cheek rested on the caressing hand, and munched toast with blissful abandon. "now tell me what you've been up to," she said, and mrs. gaston repeated every word of the conversation she had had with r. schmidt, proving absolutely nothing but stoutly maintaining that her intuition was completely to be depended upon. "and, oh," she whispered in conclusion, "wouldn't it be perfectly wonderful if you two should fall in love with each other--" "don't be silly!" "but you have said that if he should fall in love with you for yourself and not because--" "i have also said that i will not marry any man, prince, duke, king, count or anything else unless i am in love with him. don't overlook that, please." "but he is really very nice. i should think you _could_ fall in love with him. just think how it would please your father and mother. just think--" "i won't be bullied!" "am i bullying you?" in amazement. "no; but father tries to bully me, and you know it." "you must admit that the--this mr. schmidt is handsome, charming, bright--" "i admit nothing," said miss guile resolutely, and ordered marie to dress her hair as carefully as possible. "take as long as you like, marie. i shall not go on deck for hours." "i--i told him you would be up soon," stammered the poor, man-hating ex-governess. "you did?" said miss guile, with what was supposed to be a deadly look in her eyes. "well, he enquired," said the other. "anything else?" domineered the beauty. "i forgot to mention one thing. he _did_ ask me if your name was really bedelia." "and what did you tell him?" cried the girl, in sudden agitation. "i managed to tell him that it was," said mrs. gaston stiffly. "good!" cried miss guile, vastly relieved, and not at all troubled over the blight that had been put upon a very worthy lady's conscience. when she appeared on deck long afterward, she found every chair occupied. a warm sun, a far from turbulent sea, and a refreshing breeze had brought about a marvellous transformation. every one was happy, every one had come back from the grave to gloat over the grim reaper's failure to do his worst, although in certain cases he had been importuned to do it without hesitation. she made several brisk rounds of the deck; then, feeling that people were following her with their eyes,--admiringly, to be sure, but what of that?--she abandoned the pleasant exercise and sought the seclusion of the sunless corner where her chair was stationed. the ship's daily newspaper was just off the press and many of the loungers were reading the brief telegraphic news from the capitals of the world. during her stroll she passed several groups of men and women who were lightly, even scornfully employed in discussing an article of news which had to do with mr. blithers and the prince of graustark. filled with an acute curiosity, she procured a copy of the paper from a steward, and was glancing at the head lines as she made her way into her corner. double-leaded type appeared over the rumoured engagment of miss maud applegate blithers, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of the great capitalist, and robin, prince of graustark. a queer little smile played about her lips as she folded the paper for future perusal. turning the earner of the deck-building she almost collided with r. schmidt, who stood leaning against the wall, scanning the little newspaper with eyes that were blind to everything else. "oh!" she gasped. "i'm sorry," he exclaimed, crumpling the paper in his hand as he backed away, flushing. "stupid of me. good morning." "good morning, mr. schmidt. it wasn't your fault. i should have looked where i was going. 'stop, look and listen,' as they say at the railway crossing." "'danger' is one of the commonest signs, miss guile. it lurks everywhere, especially around corners. i see you have a paper. it appears that miss blithers and the prince are to be married after all." "yes; it is quite apparent that the blithers family intends to have a title at any cost," she said, and her eyes flashed. "would you like to take a few turns, miss guile?" he inquired, a trace of nervousness in his manner. "i think i can take you safely over the hurdles and around the bunkers." he indicated the outstretched legs along the promenade deck and the immovable groups of chatterers along the rail. before deciding, she shot an investigating glance into the corner. mrs. gaston was not only there but was engaged in conversation with the grey-moustached gentleman in a near-by chair. it required but half a glance to show that mr. totten was unmistakably interested in something the voluble lady had just said to him. "no, thank you, mr. schmidt," said miss guile hastily, and then hurried over to her chair, a distinct cloud on her smooth brow. robin, considering himself dismissed, whirled and went his way, a dark flush spreading over his face. never, in all his life, had he been quite so out of patience with the world as on this bright, sunny morning. miss guile's frown deepened when her abrupt appearance at mrs. gaston's side caused that lady to look up with a guilty start and to break off in the middle of a sentence that had begun with: "international marriages, as a rule, are--oh!" mr. totten arose and bowed with courtly grace to the new arrival on the scene. he appeared to be immensely relieved. "a lovely morning, miss guile," he said as he stooped to arrange her rug. "i hear that you were not at all disturbed by yesterday's blow." "i was just telling mr. totten that you are a wonderful sailor," said mrs. gaston, a note of appeal in her voice. "he says his friend, mr. schmidt, is also a good sailor. isn't it perfectly wonderful?" "i can't see anything wonderful about it," said miss guile, fixing the ex-governess with a look that seared. "we were speaking of this rumoured engagement of the prince of graustark and--er--what's the name?" he glanced at his newspaper. "miss blithers, of course. i enquired of mrs.--er--gaston if she happens to know the young lady. she remembers seeing her frequently as a very small child." "in paris," said mrs. gaston. "one couldn't very well help seeing her, you know. she was the only child of the great mr. blithers, whose name was on every one's lips at the--" miss guile interrupted. "it would be like the great mr. blithers to buy this toy prince for his daughter--as a family plaything or human lap-dog, or something of the sort, wouldn't it?" mr. totten betrayed no emotion save amusement. miss guile was watching through half-closed eyes. there was a noticeable stiffening of the prim figure of mrs. gaston. "i've no doubt mr. blithers can afford to buy the most expensive of toys for his only child. you americans go in for the luxuries of life. what could be more extravagant than the purchase of a royal lap-dog? the only drawback i can suggest is that the prince might turn out to be a cur, and then where would mr. blithers be?" "it is more to the point to ask where miss blithers would be, mr. totten," said miss guile, with a smile that caused the fierce old warrior to afterwards declare to dank that he never had seen a lovelier girl in all his life. "ah, but we spoke of the prince as a lap-dog or a cur, miss guile, not as a watch-dog," said he. "i see," said miss guile, after a moment. "he wouldn't sleep with one eye open. i see." "the lap of luxury is an enviable resting-place. i know of no prince who would despise it." "but a wife is sometimes a thing to be despised," said she. "quite true," said mr. totten. "i've no doubt that the prince of graustark will despise his wife, and for that reason will be quite content to close both eyes and let her go on searching for her heart's desire." "she would be his princess. could he afford to allow his love of luxury to go as far as that?" "quite as justifiably, i should say, as mr. blithers when he delivers his only child into--into bondage." "you were about to use another term." "i was, but i thought in time, miss guile." r. schmidt sauntered briskly past at this juncture, looking neither to the right nor left. they watched him until he disappeared down the deck. "i think mr. schmidt is a perfectly delightful young man," said mrs. gaston, simply because she couldn't help it. "you really think he will marry miss blithers, mr. totten?" ventured miss guile. "he? oh, i see--the prince?" mr. totten came near to being no diplomat. "how should i know, miss guile?" "of course! how _should_ you know?" she cried. mr. totten found something to interest him in the printed sheet and proceeded to read it with considerable avidity. miss guile smiled to herself and purposely avoided the shocked look in mrs. gaston's eyes. "bouillon at last," cried the agitated duenna, and peremptorily summoned one of the tray-bearing stewards. "i am famished." evidently mr. totten did not care for his mid-morning refreshment, for, with the most courtly of smiles, he arose and left them to their bouillon. "here comes mr. schmidt," whispered mrs. gaston excitedly, a few moments later, and at once made a movement indicative of hasty departure. "sit still," said miss guile peremptorily. r. schmidt again passed them by without so much as a glance in their direction. there was a very sweet smile on miss guile's lips as she closed her eyes and lay back in her chair. once, twice, thrice, even as many as six times r. schmidt strode rapidly by their corner, his head high and his face aglow. at last a queer little pucker appeared on the serene brow of the far from drowsy young lady whose eyes peeped through half closed lids. suddenly she threw off her rug and with a brief remark to her companion arose and went to her cabin. mrs. gaston followed, not from choice but because the brief remark was in the form of a command. soon afterward, r. schmidt who had been joined by dank, threw himself into his chair with a great sigh of fatigue and said: "'gad, i've walked a hundred miles since breakfast. have you a match?" "hobbs has made a very curious discovery," said the young lieutenant, producing his match-box. there was a perturbed look in his eyes. "if hobbs isn't careful he'll discover a new continent one of these days. he is always discovering something," said robin, puffing away at his pipe. "but this is really interesting. it seems that he was in the hold when miss guile's maid came down to get into one of her mistress's trunks. now, the first letter in guile is g, isn't it? well, hobbs says there are at least half-a-dozen trunks there belonging to the young lady and that all of them are marked with a large red b. what do you make of it?" the prince had stopped puffing at his pipe. "hobbs may be mistaken in the maid. dank. it is likely that they are not miss guile's trunks, at all." "he appears to be absolutely sure of his ground. he heard the maid mention miss guile's name when she directed the men to get one of the trunks out of the pile. that's what attracted his attention. he confided to me that you are interested in the young lady, and therefore it was quite natural for him to be similarly affected. 'like master, like man,' d'ye see?" "really, you know, dank, i ought to dismiss hobbs," said robin irritably. "he is getting to be a dreadful nuisance. always nosing around, trying to--" "but after all, sir, you'll have to admit that he has made a puzzling discovery. why should her luggage be marked with a b?" "i should say because her name begins with a b," said robin shortly. "in that case, it isn't guile." "obviously." the young man was thinking very hard. "and if it isn't guile, there must be an excellent reason for her sailing under a false name. she doesn't look like an adventuress." r. schmidt rewarded this remark with a cold stare. "would you mind telling me what she does look like, dank?" he enquired severely. the lieutenant flushed. "i have not had the same opportunity for observation that you've enjoyed, sir, but i should say, off-hand, that she looks like a very dangerous young person." "do you mean to imply that she is--er--not altogether what one would call right?" dank grinned. "don't you regard her as rather perilously beautiful?" "oh, i see. that's what you mean. i suppose you got _that_ from hobbs, too." "not at all. i have an excellent pair of eyes." "what are you trying to get at, dank?" demanded robin abruptly. "i'm trying to get to the bottom of miss guile's guile, if it please your royal highness," said the lieutenant coolly. "it is hard to connect the b and the g, you know." "but why should we deny her a privilege that we are enjoying, all three of us? are we not in the same boat?" "literally and figuratively. that explains nothing, however." "have you a theory?" "there are many that we could advance, but, of course, only one of them could be the right one, even if we were acute enough to include it in our list of guesses. she may have an imperative reason for not disclosing her identity. for instance, she may be running away to get married." "that's possible," agreed robin. "but not probable. she may be a popular music-hall favourite, or one of those peculiarly clever creatures known as the american newspaper woman, against whom we have been warned. don't you regard it as rather significant that of all the people on this ship she should be one to attach herself to the unrecognised prince of graustark? put two and two together, sir, and--" "i find it singularly difficult to put one and one together, dank," said the prince ruefully. "no; you are wrong in both of your guesses. i've encountered music-hall favourites and i can assure you she isn't one of them. and as for your statement that she attached herself to me, you were never so mistaken in your life. i give you my word, she doesn't care a hang whether i'm on the ship or clinging to a life preserver out there in the middle of the atlantic. i have reason to know, dank." "so be it," said dank, but with doubt in his eyes. "you ought to know. i've never spoken to her, so--" "she thinks you are a dreadfully attractive chap, dank," said robin mischievously. "she said so only yesterday." dank gave his prince a disgusted look, and smoked on in silence. his dignity was ruffled. "her christian name is bedelia," ventured robin, after a pause. "that doesn't get us anywhere," said dank sourly. "and her mother is irish." "which accounts for those wonderful irish blue eyes that--" "so you've noticed them, eh?" "naturally." "i consider them a very dark grey." "i think we'd better get back to the luggage," said dank hastily. "hobbs thinks that she--" "oh, lord, dank, don't tell me what hobbs thinks," growled robin. "let her make use of all the letters in the alphabet if it pleases her. what is it to us? moreover, she may be utilising a lot of borrowed trunks, who knows? or b may have been her initial before she was divorced and--" "divorced?" "--her maiden name restored," concluded robin airily. "simple deduction, dank. don't bother your head about her any longer. what we know isn't going to hurt us, and what we don't know isn't--" "has it occurred to you that russia may have set spies upon you--" "nonsense!" "it isn't as preposterous as you--" "come, old fellow, let's forget miss guile," cried robin, slapping the lieutenant on the shoulder. "let's think of the real peril,--maud applegate blithers." he held up the ship's paper for dank to see and then sat back to enjoy his companion's rage. an hour later dank and count quinnox might have been seen seated side by side on the edge of a skylight at the tip-top of the ship's structure, engaged in the closest conversation. there was a troubled look in the old man's eyes and the light of adventure in those of his junior. the sum and substance of their discussion may be given in a brief sentence: something would have to be done to prevent robin from falling in love with the fascinating miss guile. "he is young enough and stubborn enough to make a fool of himself over her," the count had said. "i wouldn't blame him, 'pon my soul i wouldn't. she is very attractive--ahem! you must be his safeguard, dank. go in and do as i suggest. you are a good looking chap and you've nothing to lose. so far as she is concerned, you are quite as well worth while as the fellow known as r. schmidt. there's no reason why you shouldn't make the remainder of the passage pleasant for her, and at the same time enjoy yourself at nobody's expense." "they know by instinct, confound 'em," lamented dank; "they know the real article, and you can't fool 'em. she knows that he is the high muck-a-muck in this party and she won't even look at me, you take my word for it." "at any rate, you can try, can't you?" said the count impatiently. "is it a command, sir?" "it is." "very well, sir. i shall do my best." "we can't afford to have him losing his head over a pretty--er--a nobody, perhaps an adventuress,--at this stage of the game. i much prefer the impossible miss blithers, dank, to this captivating unknown. at least we know who and what she is, and what she represents. but we owe it to our country and to dawsbergen to see that he doesn't do anything--er--foolish. we have five days left of this voyage, dank. they may be fatal days for him, if you do not come to the rescue." "they may be fatal days for me," said dank, looking out over the ocean. chapter xii the lieutenant reports five days later as the _jupiter_ was discharging passengers at plymouth, count quinnox and lieutenant dank stood well forward on the promenade deck watching the operations. the younger man was moody and distrait, an unusual condition for him but one that had been noticeably recurrent during the past two or three days. he pulled at his smart little moustache and looked out upon the world through singularly lack-lustre eyes. something had gone wrong with him, and it was something that he felt in duty bound to lay before his superior, the grim old minister of war and hereditary chief of the castle guard. occasionally his sombre gaze shifted to a spot farther down the deck, where a young man and woman leaned upon the rail and surveyed the scene of activity below. "what is on your mind, dank?" asked the count abruptly. "out with it." dank started. "it's true, then? i _do_ look as much of a fool as i feel, eh?" there was bitterness in his usually cheery voice. "feel like a fool, eh?" growled the old soldier. "pretty mess i've made of the business," lamented dank surlily. "putting myself up as a contender against a fellow like robin, and dreaming that i could win out, even for a minute! good lord, what an ass i am! why we've only made it worse, count. we've touched him with the spur of rivalry, and what could be more calamitous than that? from being a rather matter-of-fact, indifferent observer, he becomes a bewildering cavalier bent on conquest at any cost. i am swept aside as if i were a parcel of rags. for two days i stood between him and the incomparable miss guile. then he suddenly arouses himself. my cake is dough. i am nobody. my feet get cold, as they say in america,--although i don't know why they say it. what has the temperature of one's feet to do with it? see! there they are. they are constantly together, walking, sitting, standing, eating, drinking, reading--_eh bien!_ you have seen with your own eyes. the beautiful miss guile has bewitched our prince, and my labour is not only lost but i myself am lost. _mon dieu!_" the count stared at him in perplexity for a moment. then a look of surprise came into his eyes,--surprise not unmingled with scorn. "you don't mean to say, dank, that you've fallen in love with her? oh, you absurd fledgelings. will you--" "forgive my insolence, count, but it is forty years since you were a fledgeling. you don't see things as you saw them forty years ago. permit me to remind you that you are a grandfather." "your point is well taken, my lad," said the count, with a twinkle in his eye. "you can't help being young any more than i can help being old. youth is perennial, old age a winding-sheet. i am to take it, then, that you've lost your heart to the fair--" "why not?" broke in dank fiercely. "why should it appear incredible to you? is she not the most entrancing creature in all the world? is she not the most appealing, the most adorable, the most feminine of all her sex? is it possible that one can be so old that it is impossible for him to feel the charm, the loveliness, the--" "for heaven's sake, dank," said the old man in alarm, "don't gesticulate so wildly. people will think we are quarrelling. calm yourself, my boy." "you set a task for me and i obey. you urge me to do my duty by graustark. you tell me i am a handsome dog and irresistible. she will be overwhelmed by my manly beauty, my valour, my soldierly bearing,--so say you! and what is the outcome? i--i, the vain-glorious,--i am wrapped around her little finger so tightly that all the king's horses and all the king's men--" "halt!" commanded his general softly. "you are turning tail like the veriest coward. right about, face! would you surrender to a slip of a girl whose only weapons are a pair of innocent blue eyes and a roguish smile? be a man! stand by your guns. outwardly you are the equal of r. schmidt, whose sole--" "that sounds very well, sir, but how can i take up arms against my prince? he stands by _his_ guns--as you may see, sir,--and, dammit all, i'm no traitor. i've just got to stand by 'em with him. that rot about all being fair in love and war is the silliest--oh, well, there's no use whining about it. i'm mad about her, and so is he. you can't--" the count stopped him with a sharp gesture. a look of real concern appeared in his eyes. "do you believe that he is actually in love with this girl?" "heels over head," barked the unhappy lieutenant. "i've never seen a worse case." "this is serious--more serious than i thought." "it's horrible," declared dank, but not thinking of the situation from the count's point of view. "we do not know who or what she is. she may be--" "i beg your pardon, sir, but we do know what she is," said the other firmly. "you will not pretend to say that she is not a gentlewoman. she is cultured, refined--" "i grant all of that," said the count. "i am not blind, dank, but it seems fairly certain that her name is not guile. we--" "nor is his name schmidt. that's no argument, sir." "still we cannot take the chance, my lad. we must put an end to this fond adventure. robin is our most precious possession. we must not--why do you shake your head?" "we are powerless, sir. if he makes up his mind to marry miss guile, he'll do it in spite of anything we can do. that is, provided she is of the same mind." "god defend us, i fear you are right," groaned the old count. "he has declared himself a hundred times, and he is a wilful lad. i recall the uselessness of the opposition that was set up against his lamented mother when she decided to marry grenfell lorry. 'gad, sir, it was like butting into a stone wall. she said she _would_ and she did. i fear me that robin has much of his mother in him." "behold in me the first sacrifice," declaimed dank, lifting his eyes heavenward. "oh, you will recover," was the unsympathetic rejoinder. "it is for him that i fear, not for you." "recover, sir?" in despair. "i fear you misjudge my humble heart--" "bosh! your heart has been through a dozen accidents of this character, dank, and it is good for a hundred more. i'll rejoice when this voyage is ended and we have him safe on his way to edelweiss." "that will not make the slightest difference, sir. if he sets his head to marry her he'll do it if we take him to the north pole. all graustark can't stop him,--nor old man blithers either. besides, he says he isn't going to edelweiss immediately." "that is news to me." "i thought it would be. he came to the decision not more than two hours ago. he is determined to spend a couple of weeks at interlaken." "interlaken?" "yes. miss guile expects to stop there for a fortnight after leaving paris." "i must remonstrate with robin--at once," declared the old man. "he is needed in graustark. he must be made to realise the importance of--" "and what are you going to do if he declines to realise anything but the importance of a fortnight in the shadow of the jungfrau?" "god help me, i don't know, dank." the count's brow was moist, and he looked anything but an unconquerable soldier. "i told him we were expected to reach home by the end of next week, and he said that a quiet fortnight in the alps would make new men of all of us." "do you mean to say he expects me to dawdle--" "more than that, sir. he also expects me to dawdle too. i shall probably shoot myself before the two weeks are over." "i have it! i shall take mrs. gaston into my confidence. it is the only hope, i fear. i shall tell her that he is--" "no hope there," said dank mournfully. "haven't you noticed how keen she is to have them together all the time? she's as wily as a fox. never misses a chance. hasn't it occurred to you to wonder why she drags you off on the slightest pretext when you happen to be in the way? she's done it a hundred times. always leaving them alone together. my god, how i despise that woman! not once but twenty times a day she finds an excuse to interfere when i am trying to get in a few words with miss guile. she's forever wanting me to show her the engine-room or the captain's bridge or the wireless office or--why, by jove, sir, it was only yesterday that she asked me to come and look at the waves. said she'd found a splendid place to see them from, just as if the whole damned atlantic wasn't full of 'em. and isn't she always looking for porpoises on the opposite side of the ship? and how many whales and ice-bergs do you think she's been trying to find in the last five days? no, sir! there's no hope there!" "'pon my soul!" was all that the poor minister of war, an adept in strategy, was able to exclaim. the _jupiter_ disgorged most of her passengers at cherbourg and the descent upon paris had scarcely begun when the good ship steamed away for antwerp, bremen and hamburg. she was one of the older vessels in the vast fleet of ships controlled by the american all-seas and all-ports company, and she called wherever there was a port open to trans-atlantic navigation. she was a single factor in the great monopoly described as the "billion dollar boast." the united states had been slow to recognise the profits of seas that were free, but when she did wake up she proceeded to act as if she owned them and all that therein lay. her people spoke of the gulf stream as "ours"; of the banks of newfoundland as "ours"--or in some instances as "ourn"; of liverpool, hamburg, london, bremen and other such places as "our european terminals"; and of the various oceans, seas and navigable waters as "a part of the system." where once the stars and stripes were as rare as hummingbirds in baffin's bay, the flags were now so thick that they resembled fourth of july decorations on fifth avenue, and it was almost impossible to cross the atlantic without dodging a hundred vessels on which dixie was being played, coming and going. a man from new hampshire declared, after one of his trips over and back, that he cheered the good old tune so incessantly that his voice failed on the third day out, both ways, and he had to voice his patriotism with a tin horn. ships of the all-seas and all-ports company fairly stuffed the harbours of the world. america was awake at last--wide awake!--and the necessity for prodding her was now limited to the task of putting her to sleep long enough to allow other nations a chance to scrape together enough able bodied seamen to man the ships. william w. blithers was one of the directors of the all-seas and all-ports company. he was the first american to awake. for some unaccountable reason miss guile and her companion preferred to travel alone to paris. they had a private compartment, over which a respectful but adamantine conductor exercised an authority that irritated r. schmidt beyond expression. the rest of the train was crowded to its capacity, and here was desirable space going to waste in the section occupied by the selfish miss guile. he couldn't understand it in her. was it, after all, to be put down as a simple steamer encounter? was she deliberately snubbing him, now that they were on land? was he, a prince of the royal blood, to be tossed aside by this purse-proud american as if he were the simplest of simpletons? and what did she mean by stationing an officious hireling before her door to order him away when he undertook to pay her a friendly visit?--to offer his own and hobbs' services in case they were needed in paris. why should she lock her confounded door anyway,--and draw the curtains? there were other whys too numerous to mention, and there wasn't an answer to a single one of them. the whole proceeding was incomprehensible. to begin with, she certainly made no effort to conceal the fact that she was trying to avoid him from the instant the tender drew alongside to take off the passengers. as a matter of fact, she seemed to be making a point of it. and yet, the evening before, she had appeared rather enchanted with the prospect of seeing him at interlaken. it was not until the boat-train was nearing the environs of paris that hobbs threw some light over the situation, with the result that it instantly became darker than ever before. it appears that miss guile was met at the landing by a very good-looking young man who not only escorted her to the train but actually entered it with her, and was even now enjoying the luxury of a private compartment as well as the contents of a large luncheon hamper, to say nothing of an uninterrupted view of something far more inspiring than the scenery. "frenchman?" inquired dank listlessly. "american, i should say, sir," said hobbs, balancing himself in the corridor outside the door and sticking his head inside with more confidence than a traveller usually feels when travelling from cherbourg to paris. "but i wouldn't swear to it, sir. i didn't 'ear a word he said, being quite some distance away at the time. happearances are deceptive, as i've said a great many times. a man may look like an american and still be almost anything else, see wot i mean? on the other hand, a man may look like almost nothing and still be american to his toes. i remember once saying to--" "that's all right, hobbs," broke in r. schmidt sternly. "we also remember what you said, so don't repeat it. how soon do we get in?" hobbs cheerfully looked at his watch. "i couldn't say positive, sir, but i should think in about fourteen and a 'alf minutes, or maybe a shade under--between fourteen and fourteen and a 'alf, sir. as i was saying, he was a most intelligent looking chap, sir, and very 'andsome of face and figger. between twenty-four and twenty-five, i dare say. light haired, smooth-faced, quite tall and dressed in dark blue with a cravat, sir, that looked like cerise but may have been--" "for heaven's sake, hobbs, let up!" cried robin, throwing up his hands. "yes, sir; certainly, sir. did i mention that he wears a straw 'at with a crimson band on it? well, if i didn't, he does. hincidentally, they seemed greatly pleased to see each other. he kissed her hand, and looked as though he might have gone even farther than that if it 'adn't been for the crowd--" "that will do!" said robin sharply, a sudden flush mounting to his cheek. "very good, sir. shall i get the bags down for the porters, sir? i beg pardon, sir,--" to one of the three surly gentlemen who sat facing the travellers from graustark,--"my fault entirely. i don't believe it is damaged, sir. allow me to--" "thank you," growled the stranger. "i can put it on myself," and he jerked his hat out of hobbs' hand and set it at a rather forbidding angle above a lowering brow. "look what you're doing after this, will you?" "certainly, sir," said hobbs agreeably. "it's almost impossible to see without eyes in the back of one's head, don't you know. i 'ope--" "all right, _all_ right!" snapped the man, glaring balefully. "and let me tell you something else, my man. don't go about knocking americans without first taking a look. just bear that in mind, will you?" "the surest way is to listen," began hobbs loftily, but, catching a look from his royal master, desisted. he proceeded to get down the hand luggage. at the gare st. lazare, robin had a brief glimpse of miss guile as she hurried with the crowd down to the cab enclosure, where her escort, the alert young stranger, put her into a waiting limousine, bundled mrs. gaston and marie in after her, and then dashed away, obviously to see their luggage through the _douane_. she espied the tall figure of her fellow voyager near the steps and leaned forward to wave a perfunctory farewell to him. the car was creeping out toward the packed thoroughfare. it is possible that she expected him to dash among the chortling machines, at risk of life or limb, for a word or two at parting. if so, she was disappointed. he remained perfectly still, with uplifted hat, a faint smile on his lips and not the slightest sign of annoyance in his face. she smiled securely to herself as she leaned back in the seat, and was satisfied! curiosity set its demand upon her an instant later, however, and she peered slyly through the little window in the back. he lifted his hat once more and she flushed to her throat as she quickly drew back into the corner. how in the world could he have seen her through that abominable slit in the limousine? and why was he now grinning so broadly? count quinnox found him standing there a few minutes later, twirling his stick and smiling with his eyes. accompanying the old soldier was a slight, sharp-featured man with keen black eyes and a thin, pointed moustache of grey. this man was gourou, chief of police and commander of the tower in edelweiss, successor to the celebrated baron dangloss. after he had greeted his prince, the quiet little man announced that he had reserved for him an apartment at the bristol. "i am instructed by the prime minister, your highness, to urge your immediate return to edelweiss," he went on, lowering his voice. "the people are disturbed by the reports that have reached us during the past week or two, and baron romano is convinced that nothing will serve to subdue the feeling of uneasiness that prevails except your own declaration--in person--that these reports arc untrue." "i shall telegraph at once to baron romano that it is all poppy-cock," said robin easily. "i refer, of course, to the reported engagement. i am not going to marry miss blithers and that's all there is to be said. you may see to it, baron, that a statement is issued to all of the paris newspapers to-day, and to the correspondents for all the great papers in europe and america. i have prepared this statement, under my own signature, and it is to be the last word in the matter. it is in my pocket at this instant. you shall have it when we reach the hotel--and that reminds me of another thing. i'm sorry that i shall have to ask you to countermand the reservation for rooms at the hotel you mention. i have already reserved rooms at the ritz,--by wireless. we shall stop there. where is dank?" "the ritz is hardly the place for--" but robin clapped him on the back and favoured him with the good-natured, boyish smile that mastered even the fiercest of his counsellors, and the minister of police, being an astute man, heaved a deep sigh of resignation. "dank is looking after the trunks, highness, and hobbs is coming along with the hand luggage," he said. "the ritz, you say? then i shall have to instruct lieutenant dank to send the luggage there instead of to the bristol. pardon, your highness." he was off like a flash. count quinnox was gnawing his moustache. "see here, robin," he said, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "you are in paris now and not on board a ship at sea. miss guile is a beautiful, charming, highly estimable young woman, and, i might as well say it straight out to your face, you ought not to subject her to the notoriety that is bound to follow if the newspapers learn that she is playing around paris, no matter how innocently, with a prince whom--" "just a moment, count," interrupted robin, a cold light in his now unsmiling eyes. "you are getting a little ahead of the game. miss guile is not going to the ritz, nor do i expect her to play around paris with me. as a matter of fact, she refused to tell me where she is to stop while here, and i am uncomfortably certain that i shall not see her unless by chance. on the other hand, i may as well be perfectly frank with you and say it straight out to _your_ face that i am going to try to find her if possible, but i am not mean enough to employ the methods common to such enterprises. i could have followed her car in another when she left here a few minutes ago; i could manage in a dozen ways to run her to earth, as the detectives do in the books, but i'd be ashamed to look her in the face if i did any of these things. i shall take a gentleman's chance, my dear count, and trust to luck and the generosity of fate. you may be sure that i shall not annoy miss guile, and you may be equally sure that she--" "i beg your pardon, robin, but i did not employ the word annoy," protested the count. "--that she takes me for a gentleman if not for a prince," went on robin, deliberately completing the sentence before he smiled his forgiveness upon the old man. "i selected the ritz because all rich americans go there, i'm told. i'm taking a chance." quinnox had an obstinate strain in his make-up. he continued: "there is another side to the case, my boy. as a gentleman, you cannot allow this lovely girl to--er--well, to fall in love with you. that would be cruel, wantonly cruel. and it is just the thing that is bound to happen if you go on with--" "my dear count, you forget that i am only r. schmidt to her and but one of perhaps a hundred young men who have placed her in the same perilous position. moreover, it's the other way 'round, sir. it is i who take the risk, not miss guile. i regret to say, sir, that if there is to be any falling in love, i am the one who is most likely to fall, and to fall hard. you assume that miss guile is heart-whole and fancy free. 'gad, i wish that i could be sure of it!" he spoke with such fervour that the count was indeed dismayed. "robin, my lad, i beg of you to consider the consequences that--" "there's no use discussing it, old friend. trust to luck. there is a bully good chance that she will send me about my business when the time comes and then the salvation of graustark will be assured." he said it lightly but there was a dark look in his eyes that belied the jaunty words. "am i to understand that you intend to--to ask her to marry you?" demanded the count, profoundly troubled. "remember, boy, that you are the prince of graustark, that you--" "but i'm not going to ask her to marry the prince of graustark. i'm going to ask her to marry r. schmidt," said robin composedly. "god defend us, robin, i--i--" "god has all he can do to defend us from william w. blithers, count. don't ask too much of him. what kind of a nation are we if we can't get along without asking god to defend us every time we see trouble ahead? and do you suppose he is going to defend us against a slip of a girl--" "enough! enough!" cried the count, compressing his lips and glaring straight ahead. "that's the way to talk," cried robin enthusiastically. "by the way, i hope dank is clever enough to find out who that young fellow is while they are clearing the luggage in there. i had a good look at him just now. he is all that hobbs describes and a little more. he is a hustler." chapter xiii the red letter b in the baron's room at the ritz late that night there was held a secret conference. two shadowy figures stole down the corridor at midnight and were admitted to the room, while prince robin slept soundly in his remote four-poster and dreamed of something that brought a gentle smile to his lips. the three conspirators were of the same mind: it was clear that something must be done. but what? that was the question. gourou declared that the people were very much disturbed over the trick the great capitalist had played upon the cabinet; there were sullen threats of a revolt if the government insisted on the deposit of bonds as required by the agreement. more than that, there were open declarations that the daughter of mr. blithers would never be permitted to occupy the throne of graustark. deeply as his subjects loved the young prince, they would force him to abdicate rather than submit to the desecration of a throne that had never been dishonoured. they would accept william w. blithers' money, but they would have none of william w. blithers' daughter. that was more than could be expected of any self-respecting people! according to the minister of police, the name of blithers was already a common synonym for affliction--and frequently employed in supposing a malediction. it signified all that was mean, treacherous, scurrilous. he was spoken of through clenched teeth as "the blood sucker." children were ominously reproved by the threatening use of the word blithers. "blithers will get you if you don't wash your face," and all that sort of thing. there was talk in some circles of demanding the resignation of the cabinet, but even the pessimistic gourou admitted that it was idle talk and would come to nothing if the menacing shadow of maud applegate blithers could be banished from the vicinity of the throne. graustarkians would abide by the compact made by their leading men and would be content to regard mr. blithers as a bona fide creditor. they would pay him in full when the loan matured, even though they were compelled to sacrifice their houses in order to accomplish that end. but, like all the rest of the world, they saw through the rich american's scheme. the world knew, and graustark knew, just what mr. blithers was after, and the worst of it all was that mr. blithers also knew, which was more to the point. but, said baron gourou, graustark knew something that neither the world nor mr. blithers knew, and that was its own mind. never, said he, would maud applegate be recognised as the princess of graustark, not if she lived for a thousand years and married robin as many times as she had hairs on her head. at least, he amended, that was the way every one felt about it at present. the afternoon papers had published the brief statement prepared by robin in the seclusion of his stateroom on board the _jupiter_ immediately after a most enjoyable hour with miss guile. it was a curt and extremely positive denial of the rumoured engagement, with the additional information that he never had seen miss blithers and was more or less certain that she never had set eyes on him. a rather staggering co-incidence appeared with the published report that miss blithers herself was supposed to be somewhere in europe, word having been received that day from sources in london that she had sailed from new york under an assumed name. the imaginative french journals put two and two together and dwelt upon the possibility that the two young people who had never seen each other might have crossed the atlantic on the same steamer, seeing each other frequently and yet remaining entirely in the dark, so to speak. inspired writers began to weave a romance out of the probabilities. on one point robin was adamantine. he refused positively to have his identity disclosed at this time, and gourou had to say to the newspapers that the prince was even then on his way to vienna, hurrying homeward as fast as steel cars could carry him. he admitted that the young man had arrived on the _jupiter_ that morning, having remained in the closest seclusion all the way across the atlantic. this equivocation necessitated the most cautious rearrangement of plans on the part of the baron. he was required to act as though he had no acquaintance with either of the three travellers stopping at the ritz, although for obvious reasons he took up a temporary abode there himself. moreover, he had to telegraph the prime minister in edelweiss that the prince was not to be budged, and would in all likelihood postpone his return to the capitol. all of which stamped the honest baron as a most prodigious liar, if one stops to think of what he said to the reporters. the newspapers also printed a definite bit of news in the shape of a despatch from new york to the effect that mr. and mrs. william w. blithers were sailing for europe on the ensuing day, bound for graustark! however, the chief and present concern of the three loyal gentlemen in midnight conclave was not centred in the trouble that mr. blithers had started, but in the more desperate situation created by miss guile. she was the peril that now confronted them, and she was indeed a peril. quinnox and dank explained the situation to the minister of police, and the minister of police admitted that the deuce was to pay. "there is but one way out of it," said he, speaking officially, "and that is the simplest one i know of." "assassination, i suppose," said dank scornfully. "it rests with me, gentlemen," said the baron, ignoring the lieutenant's remark, "to find miss guile and take her into my confidence in respect--" "no use," said dank, and, to his surprise, the count repeated the words after him. "miss guile is a lady. baron," said the latter gloomily. "you cannot go to her with a command to clear out, keep her hands off, or any such thing. she would be justified in having you kicked out of the house. we must not annoy miss guile. that is quite out of the question." "by jove!" exclaimed dank, so loudly that his companions actually jumped in their seats. they looked at him in amazement,--the count with something akin to apprehension in his eyes. had the fellow lost his mind over the girl? before they could ask what he meant by shouting at the top of his voice, he repeated the ejaculation, but less explosively. his eyes were bulging and his mouth remained agape. "what ails you, dank?" demanded the baron, removing his eyes from the young man's face long enough to glance fearfully at the transom. "i've--i've got it!" cried the soldier, and then sank back in his chair, quite out of breath. the baron got up and took a peep into the hallway, and then carefully locked the door. "what are you locking the door for?" demanded dank, sitting up suddenly. "it's only a theory that i've got--but it is wonderful. absolutely staggering." "oh!" said gourou, but he did not unlock the door. "a theory, eh?" he came back and stood facing the young man. "count," began dank excitedly, "you remember the big red letter b on all of her trunks, don't you? hobbs is positive he--" count quinnox sprang to his feet and banged the table with his fist. "by jove!" he shouted, suddenly comprehending. "the letter b?" queried gourou, perplexed. "the newspapers say that she sailed from new york under an assumed name," went on dank, thrilled by his own amazing cleverness. "there you are! plain as day. the letter b explains everything. now we know who miss guile really is. she's--" "maud" exclaimed quinnox, sinking back into his chair. "miss blithers!" cried gourou, divining at last. "by jove!" and thus was the jovian circle completed. it was two o'clock before the three gentlemen separated and retired to rest, each fully convinced that the situation was even more complicated than before, for in view of this new and most convincing revelation there now could be no adequate defence against the alluring miss guile. robin was informed bright and early the next morning. in fact, he was still in his pajamas when the news was carried to him by the exhausted dank, who had spent five hours in bed but none in slumber. never in all his ardent career had the smart lieutenant been so bitterly afflicted with love-sickness as now. "i don't believe a word of it," said the prince, promptly. "you've been dreaming, old chap." "that letter b isn't a dream, is it?" "no, it isn't," said robin, and instantly sat up in bed, his face very serious. "if she should turn out to be miss blithers, i've cooked my goose to a crisp. good lord, when i think of some of the things i said to her about the blithers family! but wait! if she is miss blithers do you suppose she'd sit calmly by and hear the family ridiculed? no, sir! she would have taken my head off like a flash. she--" "i've no doubt she regarded the situation as extremely humorous," said dank, "and laughed herself almost sick over the way she was fooling you." "that might sound reasonable enough, dank, if she had known who i was. but where was the fun in fooling an utter outsider like r. schmidt? it doesn't hold together." "americans have an amazing notion of humour, i am reliably informed. they appear to be able to see a joke under the most distressing circumstances. i'll stake my head that she is miss blithers." "i can't imagine anything more terrible," groaned robin, lying down flat again and staring at the ceiling. "i shouldn't call her terrible," protested dank, rather stiffly. "i refer to the situation, dank,--the mess, in other words. it _is_ a mess, isn't it?" "i suppose you'll see nothing more of her, your highness," remarked dank, a sly hope struggling in his breast. "you'd better put it the other way. she'll see nothing more of me," lugubriously. "i mean to say, sir, you can't go on with it, can you?" "go on with what?" "the--er--you know," floundered dank. "if there is really anything to go on with, dank, i'll go on with it, believe me." the lieutenant stared. "but if she _should_ be miss blithers, what then?" "it might simplify matters tremendously," said robin, but not at all confidently. "i think i'll get up, dank, if you don't mind. call hobbs, will you? and, i say, won't you have breakfast up here with me?" "i had quite overlooked breakfast, 'pon my soul, i had," said dank, a look of pain in his face. "no wonder i have a headache, going without my coffee so long." later on, while they were breakfasting in robin's sitting room, hobbs brought in the morning newspapers. he laid one of them before the prince, and jabbed his forefinger upon a glaring headline. "i beg pardon, sir; i didn't mean to get it into the butter. very awkward, i'm sure. hi, _garcon!_ fresh butter 'ere, and lively about it, too. _buerre!_ that's the word--buttah." robin and dank were staring at the headline as if fascinated. having successfully managed the butter, hobbs at once restored his attention to the headline, reading it aloud, albeit both of the young men were capable of reading french at sight. he translated with great profundity. "'miss blithers denies report. signed statement mysteriously received. american heiress not to wed prince of graustark.' shall i read the harticle, sir?" robin snatched up the paper and read aloud for himself. hobbs merely wiped a bit of butter from his finger and listened attentively. the following card appeared at the head of the column, and was supplemented by a complete resume of the blithers-graustark muddle: "miss blithers desires to correct an erroneous report that has appeared in the newspapers. she is not engaged to be married to the prince of graustark, nor is there even the remotest probability that such will ever be the case. miss blithers regrets that she has not the honour of prince robin's acquaintance, and the prince has specifically stated in the public prints that he does not know her by sight. the statements of the two persons most vitally affected by this disturbing rumour should be taken as final. sufficient pain and annoyance already has been caused by the malicious and utterly groundless report." the name of maud applegate blithers was appended to the statement, and it was dated paris, august . thereafter followed a lengthy description of the futile search for the young lady in paris, and an interview with the local representatives of mr. blithers, all of whom declared that the signature was genuine, but refused to commit themselves further without consulting their employer. they could throw no light upon the situation, even going so far as to declare that they were unaware of the presence of miss blithers in paris. it appears that the signed statement was left in the counting-rooms of the various newspapers by a heavily veiled lady at an hour agreed upon as "about ten o'clock." there was absolutely no clue to the identity of this woman. instead of following the suggestion of miss blithers that "sufficient pain and annoyance already had been caused," the journalists proceeded to increase the agony by venturing the hope that fresh developments would materialise before the day was done. "well, she appears to be here," said robin, as he laid down the last of the three journals and stared at dank as if expecting hope from that most unreliable source. "i suppose you will now admit that i am right about the letter b," said dank sullenly. "when i see miss guile i shall ask point blank if she is maud applegate, dank, and if she says she isn't, i'll take her word for it," said robin. "and if she says she is?" "well," said the prince, ruefully, "i'll still take her word for it." "and then?" "then i shall be equally frank and tell her that i am robin of graustark. that will put us all square again, and we'll see what comes of it in the end." "you don't mean to say you'll--you'll continue as you were?" gasped dank. "that depends entirely on miss guile, boske." "but you wouldn't dare to marry maud applegate blithers, sir. you would be driven out of graustark and--" "i think that would depend a good deal on miss guile, too, old chap," said robin coolly. dank swallowed very hard. "i want to be loyal to you, your highness," he said as if he did not think it would be possible to remain so. "i shall count on you, dank," said robin earnestly. "but--" began the lieutenant, and then stopped short. "let me finish it for you. you don't feel as though you could be loyal to miss blithers, is that it?" "i think that would depend on miss blithers," said dank, and then begged to be excused. he went out of the room rather hurriedly. "well, hobbs," said robin, after his astonishment had abated, "what do _you_ think of it?" "i think he's in love with her, sir," said hobbs promptly. "good lord! with--with miss guile?" "precisely so, sir." "well, i'll be _darned!_" said the american half of prince robin with great fervour. "tut, tut, sir," reproved hobbs, who, as has been said before, was a privileged character by virtue of long service and his previous calling as a cook's interpreter. "are you going out, sir?" "yes. i'm going out to search the highways and by-ways for bedelia," said robin, a gay light in his eyes. "by the way, did you, by any chance, learn the name of the 'andsome young gent as went away with 'er, 'obbs?" "i did not, sir. i stood at his helbow for quite some time at the gare st. lazare and the only words he spoke that i could hear distinctly was 'wot the devil do you mean, me man? ain't there room enough for you here without standing on my toes like that? move hover.' only, of course, sir, he used the haspirates after a fashion of his own. the haitches are mine, sir." "is he an american?" "it's difficult to say, sir. he may be from boston, but you never can tell, sir." "do you know boston, hobbs?" inquired the prince, adjusting his tie before the mirror. "not to speak it, sir," said hobbs. the day was warm and clear, and paris was gleaming. robin stretched his long legs in a brisk walk across the place vendome and up the rue de la paix to the boulevard. here he hesitated and then retraced his steps slowly down the street of diamonds, for he suspected miss guile of being interested in things that were costly. suddenly inspired, he made his way to the place de la concorde and settled himself on one of the seats near the entrance to the champs elysees. it was his shrewd argument that if she planned a ride on that exquisite morning it naturally would be along the great avenue, and in that event he might reasonably hope to catch her coming or going. a man came up and took a seat beside him. "good morning, mr. schmidt," said the newcomer, and robin somewhat gruffly demanded what the deuce he meant by following him. "i have some interesting news," said baron gourou quietly, removing his hat to wipe a damp brow. he also took the time to recover his breath after some rather sharp dodging of automobiles in order to attain his present position of security. even a minister of police has to step lively in paris. "from home?" asked robin carelessly. "indirectly. it comes through berlin. our special agent there wires me that the offices of mr. blithers in that city have received instructions from him to send engineers to edelweiss for the purpose of estimating the cost of remodelling and rebuilding the castle,--in other words to restore it to its condition prior to the marlanx rebellion fifteen years ago." there was a tantalising smile on the baron's face as he watched the changing expressions in that of his prince. "are you in earnest?" demanded robin, a bright red spot appearing in each cheek. the baron nodded his head. "well, he's got a lot of nerve!" "i shudder when i think of what is likely to happen to those architects when they begin snooping around the castle," said gourou drily. "by the way, have you seen miss guile this morning?" robin's cheeks were now completely suffused. "certainly not." "she was in the rue de la paix half an hour ago. i thought you might--" "you saw her, baron?" "yes, highness, and it may interest you to know that she saw you." "the deuce you say! but how do you know that it was miss guile. you've no means of knowing." "it is a part of my profession to recognise people from given descriptions. in this case, however, the identification was rendered quite simple by the actions of the young lady herself. she happened to emerge from a shop just as you were passing and i've never seen any one, criminal or otherwise, seek cover as quickly as she did. she darted back into the shop like one pursued by the devil. naturally i hung around for a few minutes to see the rest of the play. presently she peered forth, looked stealthily up and down the street, and then dashed across the pavement to a waiting taxi-metre. it affords me pleasure to inform your highness that i took the number of the machine." he glanced at his cuff-band. "where did she go from the rue de la paix?" asked robin impatiently. "to the ritz. i was there almost as soon as she. she handed an envelope--containing a letter, i fancy--to the carriage man and drove away in the direction of the place de l'opera. i have a sly notion, my prince, that you will find a note awaiting you on your return to the hotel. ah, you appear to be in haste, my young hunter." "i am in haste. if you expect to keep alongside, baron, you'll have to run i'm afraid," cried the prince, and was instantly in his seven-league boots. there was a note in robin's rooms when he reached the hotel. it was not the delicately perfumed article that usually is despatched by fictional heroines but a rather business-like envelope bearing the well-known words "the new york herald" in one corner and the name "r. schmidt, hotel ritz," in firm but angular scrawl across its face. as robin ripped it open with his finger, baron gourou entered the room, but not without giving vent to a slight cough in the way of an announcement. "you forget, highness, that i am a short man and not possessed of legs that travel by yards instead of feet," he panted. "forgive me for lagging behind. i did my best to keep up with you." robin stared at his visitor haughtily for a moment and then broke into a good-humoured laugh. "won't you sit down, baron? i'll be at liberty in a minute or two," he said, and coolly proceeded to scan the brief message from miss guile. "well," said gourou, as the young man replaced the letter in the envelope and stuck it into his pocket. chapter xiv the cat is away robins's face was glowing with excitement. he put his hands in his trousers pockets and nervously jingled the coins therein, all the while regarding his minister of police with speculative eyes. then he turned to the window and continued to stare down into the place vendome for several minutes, obviously turning something over in his mind before coming to a decision. the baron waited. none knew better than he how to wait. he realised that a great deal hung upon the next few sentences to be uttered in that room, and yet he could be patient. at last robin faced him, but without speaking. an instant later he impulsively withdrew the letter from his pocket and held it out to the baron, who strode across the room and took it from his hand. without a word, he extracted the single sheet of paper and read what was written thereon. "i gather from the nature of the invitation that you are expected to enjoy stolen fruit, if i may be so bold as to put it in just that way," said he grimly. "apparently miss guile finds the presence of a duenna unnecessarily wise." "there's no harm in a quiet little excursion such as she suggests, baron," said robin, defensively. "you forget that i have seen the beautiful miss guile," said gourou drily. "i take it, then, that you approve of the young lady's scheme." "scheme sounds rather sinister, doesn't it?" "trick, if it please you more than the other. moreover, i cannot say that she _suggests_ the quiet little excursion. it occurs to me that she commands, your highness." he held the missive to the light and read, a tender irony in his voice: "'my motor will call for you at three this afternoon, and we will run out to st. cloud for tea; at the pavilion bleu. mrs. gaston is spending the day with relatives at champigny, and we may as well be mice under the circumstances. if you have another engagement, pray do not let it interfere with the pleasure i am seeking.' nothing could be more exacting, my dear prince. she signs herself 'b. guile,' and i am sure she is magnificently beguiling, if you will pardon the play on words." "you wouldn't adopt that tone of suspicion if you knew miss guile," said robin stiffly. "i am sure nothing could be more frank and above-board than her manner of treating the--" "and nothing so cock-sure and confident," put in the baron. "it would serve her right if you ignored the letter altogether." "if i were as old as you, baron, i haven't the least doubt that i should do so," said robin coolly. "and by the same token, if you were as young as i, you'd do precisely the thing that i intend to do. i'm going to st. cloud with her." "oh, i haven't been in doubt about that for an instant," said gourou. "at your age i greatly favoured the clandestine. you will not pretend to assume that this is not a clandestine excursion." "it's a jolly little adventure," was all that robin could say, in his youthfulness. the baron was thoughtful. "there is something behind this extraordinary behaviour on the part of a lady generally accredited with sense and refinement," said he after a moment. "i think i have it, too. she is deliberately putting you to a rather severe test." "test? what do you mean?" "she is trying you out, sir. miss guile,--or possibly miss blithers,--is taking a genuine risk in order to determine whether you are a real gentleman or only a make-believe. she is taking a chance with you. you may call it a jolly little adventure, but i call it the acid test. young women of good breeding and refinement do not plan such adventures with casual, ship-board acquaintances. she intends to find out _what_, not _who_, you are. i must say she's exceedingly clever and courageous." robin laughed. "thank you, baron. forewarned is forearmed. i shall remain a gentleman at any cost." "she is so shrewd and resourceful that i am almost convinced she can be no other than the daughter of the amazing mr. blithers. i believe he achieved most of his success through sheer impudence, though it is commonly described as daring." "in any case. baron, i shall make it a point to find out whether she is the lady who defies the amazing mr. blithers, and goes into print about it." "she has merely denied that she is engaged to the prince of graustark. pray do not come back to us with the news that she is engaged to r. schmidt," said gourou significantly. robin smiled reflectively. "that _would_ make a jolly adventure of it, wouldn't it?" at three o'clock, a big limousine swung under the porte cochere at the ritz and a nimble footman hopped down and entered the hotel. robin was waiting just inside the doors. he recognised the car as the one that had taken miss guile away from the gare st. lazare, and stepped forward instantly to intercept the man. "for mr. schmidt?" he inquired. "oui, m'sieur." thrilled by a pleasurable sense of excitement, the prince of graustark entered the car. he was quick to observe that the curtains in the side windows were partially drawn across the glass. the fact that she elected to journey to the country in a limousine on this hot day did not strike him as odd, for he knew that the comfort loving french people prefer the closed vehicle to the wind-inviting, dust-gathering touring body of the americans and british. he observed the single letter l in gold in the panel of the door, and made mental note of the smart livery of the two men on the front seat. a delicate perfume lingered in the car, convincing proof that miss guile had left it but a few minutes before its arrival at the ritz. as a matter of fact, she was nearer than he thought, for the car whirled into the rue de la paix and stopped at the curb not more than a hundred yards from the place vendome. once more the nimble footman hopped down and threw open the door. a slender, swift-moving figure in a blue linen gown and a wide hat from which sprung two gorgeous blue plumes, emerged from the door of a diamond merchant's shop, and, before robin could move from his corner, popped into the car and sat down beside him with a nervous little laugh on her lips--red lips that showed rose-like and tempting behind a thick chiffon veil, obviously donned for an excellent reason. the exquisite features of miss guile were barely distinguishable beneath the surface of this filmy barrier. the door closed sharply and, almost before the prince had recovered from his surprise, the car glided off in the direction of the place de l'opera. "isn't it just like an elopement?" cried miss guile, and it was quite plain to him that she was vastly pleased with the sprightly introduction to the adventure. her voice trembled slightly and she sat up very straight in the wide, comfortable seat. "is it really you?" cried robin, and he was surprised to find that his own voice trembled. "oh," she said, with a sudden diffidence, "how do you do? what must you think of me, bouncing in like that and never once speaking to you?" "if i were to tell you what i think of you, you'd bounce right out again without speaking to me," said he, smiling. "how do you do?" he extended his hand, but it was ignored. she sank back into the corner and looked at him for a moment as if uncertain what to say or do next. the shadowy red lips were smiling and the big dark eyes were eloquent, even through the screen. "i may as well tell you at the outset, mr. schmidt, that i've never--_never_--done a thing like this before," she said, an uneasy note in her voice. "i am quite sure of that," said he, "and therefore confess to a vast wealth of satisfaction." "what _do_ you think of me?" "i think that you are frightened almost out of your boots," said he boldly. "no, i'm not," said she resolutely. "i am only conscious of feeling extremely foolish." "i shouldn't feel that way about stealing off for a cup of tea," said he. "it's all quite regular, you know, and is frequently done in the very best circles when the cat's away." "you see, i couldn't quite scrape up the courage to go directly to the hotel for you," she said. "i know several people who are stopping there and i--i--well, you won't think i'm a dreadful person, will you?" "not at all," he declared promptly. then he resolved to put one of the questions he had made up his mind to ask at the first opportunity. "do you mind telling me why you abandoned me so completely, so heartlessly on the day we landed?" "because there was no reason why i should act otherwise, mr. schmidt," she said, the tremor gone from her voice. "and yet you take me to st. cloud for tea," he said pointedly. "ah, but no one is to know of this," she cried warmly. "this is a secret, a very secret adventure." he could not help staring. "and that is just why i am mystified. why is to-day so different from yesterday?" "it isn't," she said. "doesn't all this prove it?" his face fell. "don't you want to be seen with me, miss guile? am i not--" "wait! will you not be satisfied with things as they are and refrain from asking unnecessary questions?" "i shall have to be satisfied," said he ruefully. "i am sorry i said that, mr. schmidt," she cried, contrite at once. "there is absolutely no reason why i should not be seen with you. but won't you be appeased when i say that i wanted to be with you alone to-day?" he suddenly remembered the baron's shrewd conjecture and let the opportunity to say something banal go by without a word. perhaps it was a test, after all. he merely replied that she was paying him a greater compliment than he deserved. "there are many things i want to speak about, mr. schmidt, and--and you know how impossible it is to--to get a moment to one's self when one is being watched like a child, as i am being watched over by dear mrs. gaston. she is my shield and armour, my lovely one-headed dragon. i placed myself in her care and--well, she is a very dependable person. you _will_ understand, won't you?" "pray do not distress yourself, miss guile," he protested. "the last word is spoken. i am too happy to spoil the day by doubting its integrity. besides, i believe i know you better than you think i do." he expected her to reveal some sign of dismay, but she was suddenly on guard. "then you will not mind my eccentricities," she said calmly, "and we shall have a very nice drive, some tea and a--lark in place of the more delectable birds prescribed by the chef at the pavilion bleu." as the car turned into the boulevard des capucines robin suppressed an exclamation of annoyance on beholding baron gourou and dank standing on the curb almost within arm's length of the car as it passed. the former was peering rather intently at the two men on the front seat, and evinced little or no interest in the occupants of the tonneau. "wasn't that your friend mr. dank?" inquired miss guile with interest. he felt that she was chiding him. "yes," said he, and then turned for another look at his compatriots. gourou was jotting something down on his cuff-band. the prince mentally promised him something for his pains. "but let us leave dull care behind," he went on gaily. "he isn't at all dull," said she. "but he _is_ a care," said he. "he is always losing his heart, miss guile." "and picking up some one else's, i fancy," said she. "by the way, who was the good-looking chap that came to cherbourg to meet you?" "a very old friend, mr. schmidt. i've known him since i was that high." (that high was on a line with her knee.) "attractive fellow," was his comment. "do you think so?" she inquired innocently, and he thought she over-played it a little. he was conscious of an odd sense of disappointment in her. "have you never been out to st. cloud? no? i never go there without feeling a terrible pity for those poor prodigals who stood beside its funeral pyre and saw their folly stripped down to the starkest of skeletons while they waited. the day of glory is short, mr. schmidt, and the night that follows is bitterly long. they say possession is nine points of the law, but what do nine points mean to the lawless? the rich man of to-day may be the beggar of to-morrow, and the rich man's sons and daughters may be serving the beggars of yesterday. i have been told that in the lower east side of new york city there are men and women who were once princes and princesses, counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses. why doesn't some one write a novel about the royalty that hides its beggary in the slums of that great city?" "what's this? epigrams and philosophy, miss guile?" he exclaimed wonderingly. "you amaze me. what are you trying to convey? that some day you may be serving yesterday's beggar?" "who knows!" she said cryptically. "i am not a philosopher, and i'm sorry about the epigrams. i loathe people who make use of them. they are a cheap substitution for wisdom. do you take sugar in your tea?" it was her way of abandoning the topic, but he looked his perplexity. "i thought i'd ask now, just for the sake of testing my memory later on." she was laughing. "two lumps and cream," he said. "won't you be good enough to take off that veil? it seriously obstructs the view." she complacently shook her head. "it doesn't obstruct mine," she said. "have you been reading what the papers are saying about your friend mr. blithers and his obstreperous maud?" robin caught his breath. in a flash he suspected an excellent reason for keeping the veil in place. it gave her a distinct advantage over him. "yes. i see that she positively denies the whole business." "likewise the prospective spouse," she added. "isn't it sickening?" "i wonder what mr. blithers is saying to-day," said he audaciously. "poor old cock, he must be as sore as a crab. by the way, it is reported that she crossed on the steamer with us." "i am quite certain that she did, mr. schmidt," said she. "you really think so?" he cried, regarding her keenly. "the man who came to meet me knows her quite well. he is confident that he saw her at cherbourg." "i see," said he, and was thoroughly convinced. "i may as well confess to you. miss guile, that i also know her when i see her." "but you told me positively that you had never seen her, mr. schmidt," she said quickly. "i had not seen her up to the second day out on the _jupiter_," he explained, enjoying himself immensely. "it was after that that you--" "i know," he said, as she hesitated; "but you see i didn't know she was miss blithers until sometime after i had met you." there was a challenge in his manner amounting almost to a declaration. she leaned forward to regard him more intently. "is it possible, mr. schmidt, that you suspect _me_ of being that horrid, vulgar creature?" robin was not to be trapped. there was something in the shadowy eyes that warned him. "at least, i may say that i do not suspect you of being a horrid, vulgar creature," he said evasively. "what else can this miss blithers be if not that?" "would you say that she is vulgar because she refuses to acknowledge a condition that doesn't exist? i think she did perfectly right in denying the engagement." "you haven't answered my question, mr. schmidt." "well," he began slowly, "i don't suspect you of being miss blithers." "but you did suspect it." "i was pleasantly engaged in speculation, that's all. it is generally believed that miss blithers sailed under an assumed name--literally, not figuratively." "is there any reason why you should imagine that my name is not guile?" "yes. your luggage is resplendently marked with the second letter in the alphabet--a gory, crimson b." "i see," she said reflectively. "you examined my luggage, as they say in the customs office. and you couldn't put b and g together, is that it?" "obviously." "if you had taken the trouble to look, you would have found an equally resplendent g on the opposite end of each and every trunk, mr. schmidt," she said quietly. "i did not examine your luggage, miss guile," said he stiffly. she hadn't left much for him to stand upon. "rather unique way to put one's initials on a trunk, isn't it?" "it possesses the virtue of originality," she admitted, "and it never fails to excite curiosity. i am sorry you were misled. nothing could be more distressing than to be mistaken for the heroine of a story and then turn out to be a mere nobody in the end. i've no doubt that if the amiable miss blithers were to hear of it, she'd rush into print and belabour me with the largest type that money could buy." "oh, come now, miss guile," he protested, "it really isn't fair to miss blithers. she was justified in following an illustrious example. you forget that the prince of graustark was the first to rush into print with a flat denial. what else could the poor girl do?" "oh, i am not defending the prince of graustark. he behaved abominably, rushing into print as you say. extremely bad taste, i should call it." robin's ears burned. he could not defend himself. there was nothing left for him to do but to say that it "served him jolly well right, the way miss blithers came back at him." "still," she said, "i would be willing to make a small wager that the well-advertised match comes off in spite of all the denials. given a determined father, an ambitious mother, a purse-filled daughter and an empty-pursed nobleman, and i don't see how the inevitable can be avoided." his face was flaming. it was with difficulty that he restrained the impulse to put her right in the matter without further ado. "are you sure that the prince is so empty of purse as all that?" he managed to say, without betraying himself irretrievably. "there doesn't seem to be any doubt that he borrowed extensively of mr. blithers," she said scornfully. "he is under some obligations to his would-be-father-in-law, i submit, now isn't he?" "i suppose so, miss guile," he admitted uncomfortably. "and therefore owes him something more than a card in the newspapers, don't you think?" "really, miss guile, i--i--" "i beg your pardon. the prince's affairs are of no importance to you, so why should i expect you to stand up for him?" "i confess that i am a great deal more interested in miss blithers than i am in the prince. by the way, what would you have done had you been placed in her position?" "i think i should have acted quite as independently as she." "if your father were to pick out a husband for you, whether or no, you would refuse to obey the paternal command?" "most assuredly. as a matter of fact, mr. schmidt, my father has expressed a wish that i should marry a man who doesn't appeal to me at all." "and you refuse?" "absolutely." "more or less as miss blithers has done," he said pointedly. "miss blithers, i understand, has the advantage of me in one respect. i am told that she wants to marry another man and is very much in love with him." "a chap named scoville," said robin, unguardedly. "you know him, mr. schmidt?" "no. i've merely heard of him. i take it from your remark that you don't want to marry anybody--at present." "quite right. not at present. now let us talk of something else. _a bas_ blithers! down with the plutocrats! stamp out the vulgarians! is there anything else you can suggest?" she cried gaily. "long live the princess maud!" said he, and doffed his hat. the satirical note in his voice was not lost on her. she started perceptibly, and caught her breath. then she sank back into the corner with a nervous, strained little laugh. "you think she will marry him?" "i think as you do about it, miss guile," said he, and she was silenced. chapter xv the mice in a trap they had a table in a cool, shady corner of the broad porch overlooking the place d'armes and the seine and its vociferous ferries. to the right runs the gleaming roadway that leads to the hills and glades through which pomp and pride once strode with such fatal arrogance. blue coated servitors attended them on their arrival, and watched over them during their stay. it was as if miss guile were the fairy princess who had but to wish and her slightest desire was gratified. her guest, a real prince, marvelled not a little at the complete sway she exercised over this somewhat autocratic army of menials. they bowed and scraped, and fetched, and carried, and were not swiss but slaves in bagdad during the reign of its most illustrious caliph, al-haroun raschid the great. the magic of araby could have been no more potent than the spell this beautiful girl cast over the house of mammon. she laid her finger upon a purse of gold and wished, and lo! the wonders of the magic carpet were repeated. robin remembered that maud applegate blithers had spent the greater part of her life in paris, and it was therefore not unreasonable to suppose that she had spent something else as well. at any rate, the pavilion bleu was a place where it _had_ to be spent if one wanted the attention accorded the few. she had removed her veil, but he was not slow to perceive that she sat with her back to the long stretch of porch. "do you prefer this place to armenonville or the paillard at pre catelan, miss guile?" he inquired, quite casually, but with a secret purpose. "no, it is stupid here, as a rule, and common. still every one goes to the other places in the afternoon and i particularly wanted to be as naughty as possible, so i came here to-day." "it doesn't strike me as especially naughty," he remarked. "but it was very, very naughty before you and i were born, mr. schmidt. the atmosphere still remains, if one possesses a comprehensive imagination." "i daresay," said he, "but the imagination doesn't thrive on tea. those were the days of burgundy and a lot of other red things." "one doesn't need to be in shackles, to expatiate on the terrors of the bridge of sighs," she said. "are you going to take me up to the park?" "yes. into the shadows." "oh, that's good! i'm sure my imagination will work beautifully when it isn't subdued by all these blue devils. i--_que voulez vous?_" the question was directed rather sharply to a particularly deferential "blue devil" who stood at his elbow. "monsieur schmidt?" "yes. what's this? a letter! 'pon my soul, how the deuce could any one--" he got no farther, for miss guile's action in pulling down her veil and the subsequent spasmodic glance over her shoulder betrayed such an agitated state of mind on her part that his own sensations were checked at the outset. "there must be some one here who knows you, mr. schmidt," she said nervously. "see what it says, please,--at once. i--perhaps we should be starting home immediately." robin tore open the envelope. a glance showed him that the brief note was from gourou. a characteristic g served as a signature. as he read, a hard line appeared between his eyes and his expression grew serious. "it is really nothing, miss guile," he said and prepared to tear the sheet into many pieces. "a stupid, alleged joke of a fellow who happens to know me, that's all." "don't tear it up!" she cried sharply. "what does it say? i have a right to know, mr. schmidt, even though it is only a joke. what has this friend of yours to say about me? what coarse, uncalled-for comment has he to make about--" "let me think for a moment, miss guile," he interrupted, suddenly realising that it was time for reflection. after a moment he said soberly: "i think it would be wise if we were to leave instantly. there is nothing to be alarmed about, i assure you, but--well, we'd better go." "will you allow me to see that letter?" she asked, extending her hand. "i'd rather not, if you don't mind." "but i insist, sir! i'll not go a step from this place until i know what all this is about." "as it happens to concern you even more than it does me, i suppose you'd better see what it says." he passed the letter over to her and watched her narrowly as she read. again the veil served as a competent mask. "who wrote this letter, mr. schmidt?" she demanded. even through the veil he could see that her eyes were wide with--was it alarm or anger? "a man named gourou. he is a detective engaged on a piece of work for mr. totten." "is it a part of his duty to watch your movements?" she asked, leaning forward. "no. he is my friend, however," said robin steadily. "according to this epistle, it would appear that it is a part of his duty to keep track of you, not me. may i ask why you should be shadowed by two of his kind?" she did not answer at once. when she spoke, it was with a determined effort to maintain her composure. "i am sorry to have subjected you to all this, mr. schmidt. we will depart at once. i find that the cat is never away, so we can't be mice. what a fool i've been." there was something suspiciously suggestive of tears in her soft voice. he laid a hand upon the small fingers that clutched the crumpled sheet of paper. to have saved his life, he could not keep the choked, husky tremor out of his voice. "the day is spoiled for you. that is my only regret. as for me, miss guile, i am not without sin, so i may cast no stones. pray regard me as a fellow culprit, and rest assured that i have no bone to pick with you. i too am watched and yet i am no more of a criminal than you. will you allow me to say that i am a friend whose devotion cannot be shaken by all the tempests in the world?" "thank you," she said, and turned her hand under his to give it a quick, convulsive clasp. her spirits seemed to revive under the responsive grip. "you might have said all the tempests in a tea pot, for that is really what it amounts to. my father is a very foolish man. will you send for the car?" he called an attendant and ordered him to find miss guile's footman at once. when he returned to the table, she was reading the note once more. "it is really quite thrilling, isn't it?" she said, and there was still a quaver of indignation in her voice. "are you not mystified?" "not in the least," said he promptly, and drew a chair up close beside hers. "it's as plain as day. your father has found you out, that's all. let's read it again," and they read it together. "a word to the wise," it began. "two men from a private detective concern have been employed since yesterday in watching the movements of your companion, for the purpose of safe-guarding her against good-looking young men, i suspect. i have it from the most reliable of sources that her father engaged the services of these men almost simultaneously with the date of our sailing from new york. it may interest you to know that they followed you to st. cloud in a high-power car and no doubt are watching you as you read this message from your faithful friend, who likewise is not far away." "i should have anticipated this, mr. schmidt," she said ruefully. "it is just the sort of thing my father would do." "you seem to take it calmly enough." "i am quite used to it. i would be worth a great deal to any enterprising person who made it his business to steal me. there is no limit to the ransom he could demand." "you alarm me," he declared. "no doubt these worthy guardians look upon me as a kidnapper. i am inclined to shiver." "'all's well that ends well,'" quoth she, pulling on her gloves, "i shall restore you safely to the bosom of the ritz and that will be the end of it." "i almost wish that some one would kidnap you, miss guile. it would afford me the greatest pleasure in the world to snatch you from their clutches. your father would be saved paying the ransom but i should have to be adequately rewarded. i fancy, however, that he wouldn't mind paying the reward i should hold out for." "i am quite sure he would give you anything you were to ask for, mr. schmidt," said she gaily. "you would be reasonable, of course." "i might ask for the most precious of his possessions," said he, leaning forward to look directly into eyes that wavered and refused to meet his. "curiosity almost makes me wish that i might be kidnapped. i should then find out what you consider to be his most precious possession," she said, and her voice was perilously low. "i think i could tell you in advance," said he, his eyes shining. "i--i prefer to find out in my own way, mr. schmidt," she stammered hurriedly. her confusion was immensely gratifying to him. there is no telling what might have happened to the prince of graustark at that moment if an obsequious attendant had not intervened with the earthly information that the car was waiting. "good lord," robin was saying to himself as he followed her to the steps, "was i about to go directly against the sage advice of old gourou? was i so near to it as that? in another minute--gee, but it was a close shave. she is adorable, she is the most adorable creature in the world, even though she is the daughter of old man blithers, and i--'gad i wonder what will come of it in the end? keep a tight grip on yourself, bobby, or you're a goner, sure as fate." they were painfully aware of the fact that their progress down the long verandah was made under the surveillance of two, perhaps three pairs of unwavering eyes, and because of it they looked neither to right nor left but as those who walk tight-ropes over dangerous places. there was something positively uncanny in the feeling that their every movement was being watched by secret observers. once inside the car, miss guile sank back with a long sigh of relief. "did you feel it, too?" she asked, with a nervous little catch in her voice. "i did," said he, passing his hand over his brow. "it was like being alone in the dark with eyes staring at one from all sides of the room." the car shot across the bridge and was speeding on its way toward the bois when robin ventured a glance behind. through the little window in the back of the car he saw a big, swift-moving automobile not more than a quarter of a mile in their rear. "would you like to verify the report of my friend gourou?" he asked, his voice quick with exhilaration. she knelt with one knee upon the seat and peered back along the road. "there they are!" she cried. she threw the veil back over her hat as she resumed her seat in the corner. her eyes were fairly dancing with excitement. the warm red lips were parted and she was breathing quickly. suddenly she laid her hand over her heart as if to check its lively thumping. "isn't it splendid? we are being pursued--actually chased by the man-hunters of paris! oh, i was never so happy in my life. isn't it great?" "it is glorious!" he cried exultantly. "shall i tell the chauffeur to hit it up a bit? let's make it a real chase." "yes, do! we'll see if we can foil them, as they say in the books. oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if we were to--to--what do you call it? give them the slip, isn't that it?" "i'm game," said he, with enthusiasm. for a second or two they looked straight into each other's eyes and a message was exchanged that never could have been put into words. no doubt it was the flush of eager excitement that darkened their cheeks. in any case, it came swiftly and went as quickly, leaving them paler than before and vastly self-conscious. and after that brief, searching look they knew that they could never be as they were before the exchange. they were no longer strangers to each other, but shy comrades and filled with a delicious sense of wonder. robin gave hurried directions through the speaking tube to the attentive footman, and so explicit were these directions that the greatest excitement prevailed upon the decorous front seat of the car--first the footman looked back along the road, then the chauffeur, after which a thrill of excitement seemed to fairly race up and down their liveried backs. the car itself took a notion to quiver with the promise of joy unrestrained. in less than a minute they were going more than a mile a minute over a short stretch of the avenue de longchamp. at the porte de hippodrome they slowed down and ran into the bois, taking the first road to the left. in a few minutes they were scudding past longchamp at a "fair clip" to quote r. schmidt. instead of diverging into the allee de longchamp, the car took a sharp turn into the avenue de l'hippodrome and, at the intersection, doubled back over the allee de la heine marguerite, going almost to the boulogne gate, where again it was sent parisward over the avenue de st. cloud. miss guile was in command of the flight. she called out the instructions to the driver and her knowledge of the intricate routes through the park stood them well in hand. purposely she evaded the cascades, circling the little pools by narrow, unfrequented roads, coming out at last to the porte de la muette, where they left the park and took to the avenue henri martin. it was her design to avoid the customary routes to the heart of the city, and all would have gone well with them had not fate in the shape of two burly _sergents de ville_ intervened at a time when success seemed most certain. it was quite clear to the pursued that the car containing their followers had been successfully eluded and was no doubt in the champs elysees by this time. for some time there had been a worried look in the prince's eyes. once he undertook to remonstrate with his fair companion. "my dear miss guile, we'll land in jail if we keep up this hair-raising speed. there wouldn't be any fun in that, you know." she gave him a scornful look. "are you afraid, mr. schmidt?" "not on my own account," said he, "but yours. i've heard that the new regulations are extremely rigid." "pooh! i'm not afraid of the police. they--why, what's the matter? oh, goodness!" the car had come to a somewhat abrupt stop. two policemen, dismounted from their bicycles, formed an insurmountable obstruction. they were almost in the shade of the trocadero. "do not be alarmed," whispered robin to the fast paling girl, into whose eyes the most abject misery had leaped at the sight of the two officers. "leave it to me. i can fix them all right. there's nothing to be worried about--well, _sergent_, what is it?" the polite officers came up to the window with their little note-books. "i regret, m'sieur, that we shall be obliged to conduct yourself and mademoiselle to the office of a magistrate. under the new regulations set forth in the order of last may, motorists may be given a hearing at once. i regret to add that m'sieur has been exceeding the speed limit. a complaint came in but a few minutes ago from the porte de la muette and we have been ordered to intercept the car. you may follow us to the office of the magistrate, m'sieur. it will soon be over, mademoiselle." "but we can explain--" she began nervously. the _sergent_ held up his hand. "it is not necessary to explain, mademoiselle. too many motorists have explained in the past but that does not restore to life the people they have killed in the pursuit of pleasure. paris is enforcing her laws." "but, _sergent_, i alone am to blame for any violation of the law," said robin suavely. "surely it is only necessary that i should accompany you to the magistrate. the young lady is in no way responsible--" "alas, m'sieur," said the man firmly but as if he were quite broken-hearted, "it is not for me to disobey the law, even though you may do so. it is necessary for the lady to appear before the judge, and it is our duty to convey her there. the new law explicitly says that all occupants of said car shall be subject to penalty under the law without reprieve or pardon!" "where are your witnesses?" demanded robin. the two men produced their watches and their notebooks, tapping them significantly. "m'sieur will not think of denying that he has been running more rapidly than the law allows," said the second officer. "it will go harder with him if he should do so." "i shall insist upon having an advocate to represent me before--" "as you like, m'sieur," said the first officer curtly. "proceed!" he uttered as a command to the chauffeur, and forthwith mounted his wheel. a score of people had gathered round them by this time, and miss guile was crouching back in her corner. her veil was down. in single file, so to speak, they started off for the office of the nearest magistrate appointed under the new law governing automobiles. a policeman pedaled ahead of the car and another followed. "isn't it dreadful?" whispered miss guile. "what do you think they will do to us? oh, i am so sorry, mr. schmidt, to have dragged you into this horrid--" "i wouldn't have missed it for anything in the world," said he so earnestly that she sat up a little straighter and caught her breath. "after all, they will do no more than assess a fine against us. a hundred francs, perhaps. that is nothing." "i am not so sure of that," said she gloomily. "my friends were saying only yesterday that the new law provides for imprisonment as well. paris has constructed special prisons for motorists, and people are compelled to remain in them for days and weeks at a time. oh, i hope--" "i'll inquire of the footman," said robin. "he will know." the footman, whose face was very long and serious, replied through the tube that very few violators escaped confinement in the "little prisons." he also said "mon dieu" a half dozen times, and there was a movement of the driver's pallid lips that seemed to indicate a fervent echo. "i shall telephone at once--to my friends," said miss guile, a note of anger in her voice. "they are very powerful in paris. we shall put those miserable wretches in their proper places. they--" "we must not forget. miss guile, that we _were_ breaking the law," said robin, who was beginning to enjoy the discomfiture of this spoiled beauty, this girl whose word was a sort of law unto itself. "it is perfect nonsense," she declared. "we did no harm. goodness! what is this?" four or five policemen on wheels passed by the car, each with a forbidding glance through the windows. "they are the boys we left behind us," paraphrased robin soberly. "the park policemen. they've just caught us up, and, believe me, they look serious, too. i dare say we are in for it." in a very few minutes the procession arrived at a low, formidable looking building on a narrow side street. the cavalcade of policemen dismounted and stood at attention while mademoiselle and monsieur got down from the car and followed a polite person in uniform through the doors. whereupon the group of _sergents de ville_ trooped in behind, bringing with them the neatly liveried servants with the golden letter l on their cuffs. "i believe there is a jail back there," whispered the slim culprit, a quaver in her voice. she pointed down the long, narrow corridor at the end of which loomed a rather sinister looking door with thick bolt-heads studding its surface. an instant later they were ushered into a fair-sized room on the left of the hall, where they were commanded to sit down. a lot of chairs stood about the room, filling it to the farthest corners, while at the extreme end was the judge's bench. "i insist on being permitted to telephone to friends--to my legal advisors,--" began miss guile, with praiseworthy firmness, only to be silenced by the attendant, who whispered shrilly that a trial was in progress, couldn't she see? two dejected young men were standing before the judge, flanked by three _sergents de ville_. robin and miss guile stared wide-eyed at their fellow criminals and tried to catch the low words spoken by the fat magistrate. once more they were ordered to sit down, this time not quite so politely, and they took seats in the darkest corner of the room, as far removed from justice as possible under the circumstances. presently a young man approached them. he was very nice looking and astonishingly cheerful. the hopes of the twain went up with a bound. his expression was so benign, so bland that they at once jumped to the conclusion that he was coming to tell them that they were free to go, that it had all been a stupid mistake. but they were wrong. he smilingly introduced himself as an advocate connected with the court by appointment and that he would be eternally grateful to them if they would tell him what he could do for them. "i'd like to have a word in private with the magistrate," said the prince of graustark eagerly. "impossible!" said the advocate, lifting his eyebrows and his smart little mustachios in an expression of extreme amazement. "it is imposs--" a sharp rapping on the judge's desk reduced the remainder of the sentence to a delicate whisper--"ible. m'sieur." "will you conduct me to a telephone booth?" whispered miss guile, tearfully. "pray do not weep, mademoiselle," implored the advocate, profoundly moved, but at the same time casting a calculating eye over the luckless pair. "well, what's to be done?" demanded robin. "we insist on having our own legal advisors here." "the court will not delay the hearing, m'sieur," explained the young man. "besides, the best legal advisor in paris could do no more than to advise you to plead guilty. i at least can do that quite as ably as the best of them. no one ever pretends to defend a case in the automobile courts, m'sieur. it is a waste of time, and the court does not approve of wasting time. perhaps you will feel more content if i introduce the assistant public prosecutor, who will explain the law. that is his only duty. he does not prosecute. there is no need. the _sergents_ testify and that is all there is to the case." "may i inquire what service you can be to us if the whole business is cut and dried like that?" asked robin. "not so loud, m'sieur. as i said before, i can advise you in respect to your plea, and i can tell you how to present your statement to the court. i can caution you in many ways. sometimes a prisoner, who is well-rehearsed, succeeds in affecting the honourable magistrate nicely, and the punishment is not so severe." "so you advise us to plead guilty as delicately as possible?" "i shall not advise you, m'sieur, unless it pleases you to retain me as your counsellor. the fee is small. ten francs. inasmuch as the amount is charged against you in the supplemental costs, it seems foolish not to take advantage of what you are obliged to pay for in any event. you will have to pay my fee, so you may as well permit me to be of service to you." "my only concern is over mademoiselle," said the prince. "you may send me to jail if you like, if you'll only--" "mon dieu! i am not the one who enjoys the distinguished honour of being permitted to send people to jail, but the judge, m'sieur." "it is ridiculous to submit this innocent young lady to the humiliation of--" "it is not only ridiculous but criminal," said the advocate, with a magnificent bow. "but what is one to do when it is the law? of late, the law is peculiarly sexless. and now here is where i come in. it is i who shall instruct you--both of you, mademoiselle--how to conduct yourselves before the magistrate. above all things, do not attempt to contradict a single statement of the police. admit that all they say is true, even though they say that you have run over a child or an old woman with mortal results. it will go much easier with you. exercise the gravest politeness and deference toward the honourable magistrate and to every officer of the court. you are americans, no doubt. the courts are prone to be severe with the americans because they sometimes undertake to tell them how easy it is to get the right kind of justice in your wonderfully progressive united states. be humble, contrite, submissive, for that is only justice to the court. if you have killed some one in your diversions, pray do not try to tell the magistrate that the idiot ought to have kept his eyes open. another thing: do not inform the court that you require a lawyer. that is evidence of extreme culpability and he will consider you to be inexcusably guilty. are you attending? pray do not feel sorry for the two young men who are now being led away. see! they are weeping. it is as i thought. they are going to prison for--but that is their affair, not ours. i advised them as i am advising you, but they insisted on making a statement of their case. that was fatal, for it failed in many respects to corroborate the information supplied by the police. it-" "what was the charge against them?" whispered miss guile, quaking. she had watched the exit of the tearful young men, one of whom was sobbing bitterly, and a great fear possessed her. "of that, mademoiselle, i am entirely ignorant, but they were unmistakably guilty of denying it, whatever it was." "are they going to prison?" she gasped. "it is not that which causes them to weep so bitterly, but the knowledge that their names are to be posted on the bulletin boards in the place de l'opera, the place de l'concorde, the--" "good lord!" gasped robin. "is _that_ being done?" "it is m'sieur, and the effect is marvellous. three months ago the boards were filled with illustrious names; to-day there are but few to be found upon them. the people have discovered that the courts are in earnest. the law is obeyed as it never was before. the prisons were crowded to suffocation at one time; now they are almost empty. it is a good law. to-day a mother can wheel her baby carriage in the thickest of the traffic and run no risk of--ah, but here is the assistant prosecutor coming. permit me to further warn you that you will be placed under oath to tell the absolute truth. the prosecutor will ask but three questions of you: your age, your name and your place of residence. all of them you must answer truthfully, especially as to your names. if it is discovered that you have falsely given a name not your own, the lowest penalty is sixty days in prison, imposed afterwards in addition to the sentence you will receive for violating the traffic laws. i have performed my duty as required by the commissioner. my fee is a fixed one, so you need not put your hand into your pocket, m'sieur. good day. mademoiselle--good day, m'sieur." he bowed profoundly and gave way to the impatient prosecutor, who had considerately held himself aloof while the final words were being uttered, albeit he glanced at his watch a couple of times. "come," he said, and he did not whisper; "let us be as expeditious as possible. approach the court. it is--" "see here," said robin savagely, "this is too damned high-handed. are we to have no chance to defend ourselves? we--" "just as you please, m'sieur," interrupted the prosecutor patiently. "it is nothing to me. i receive my fee in any event. if you care to defy the law in addition to what you have already done, it is not for me to object." "well, i insist on having--" a thunderous pounding on the bench interrupted his hot-headed speech. "attend!" came in a sharp, uncompromising voice from the bench. "what is the delay? this is no time to think. all that should have been done before. step forward! _sergent_, see that the prisoners step forward." robin slipped his arm through miss guile's, expecting her to droop heavily upon it for support. to his surprise she drew herself up, dis-engaged herself, and walked straight up to the bench, without fear or hesitation. it was robin who needed an example of courage and fortitude, not she. the chauffeur and footman, shivering in their elegance, already stood before the bench. "will you be so kind as to raise your veil, madam?" spake the court. she promptly obeyed. he leaned forward with sudden interest. the prosecutor blinked and abruptly overcame the habitual inclination to appear bored. such ravishing beauty had never before found its way into that little court-room. adjacent moustaches were fingered somewhat convulsively by several _sergents de ville._ "ahem!" said the court, managing with some difficulty to regain his judicial form. "i am compelled by law, mademoiselle, to warn you before you are placed under oath that the lowest penalty for giving a false name in answer to the charge to be brought against you is imprisonment for not less than sixty days. i repeat this warning to you, young man. be sworn, if you please." robin experienced a queer sense of exultation, not at all lessened by the knowledge that he would be forced to reveal his own identity. "would she call herself bedelia guile or would she--" "state your name, mademoiselle," said the prosecutor. chapter xvi three messages miss guile lowered her head for an instant. robin could see that her lip was quivering. a vast pity for her took possession of him and he was ashamed of what he now regarded as unexampled meanness of spirit on his own part. she lifted her shamed, pleading eyes to search his, as if expecting to find succour in their fearless depths. she found them gleaming with indignation, suddenly aroused, and was instantly apprehensive. there was a look in those eyes of his that seemed prophetic of dire results unless she checked the words that were rising to his lips. she shook her head quickly and, laying a hand upon his arm, turned to the waiting magistrate. "my name is--oh, is there no way to avoid the publicity--" she sighed miserably--"the publicity that--" "i regret, mademoiselle, that there is no alternative--" began the judge, to be interrupted by the banging of the court-room door. he looked up, glaring at the offender with ominous eyes. the polite attendant from the outer corridor was advancing in great haste. he was not only in haste but vastly perturbed. despite the profound whack of the magistrate's paper weight on the hollow top of the desk and the withering scowl that went with it, the attendant rushed forward, forgetting his manners, his habits and his power of speech in one complete surrender to nature. he thrust into the hand of the judge a slip of paper, at the same time gasping something that might have been mistaken for an appeal for pardon but which more than likely was nothing of the sort. "what is this?" demanded the judge ferociously. "mon dieu!" replied the attendant, rolling his eyes heavenward. the magistrate was impressed. he took up the slip of paper and read what was written thereon. then he was guilty of a start. the next instant he had the prosecutor up beside him and then the advocate. together they read the message from the outside and together they lifted three pairs of incredulous eyes to stare at the culprits below. there was a hurried consultation in excited whisperings, intermittent stares and far from magisterial blinkings. robin bent close to bedelia's ear and whispered: "we must have killed some one, the way they are acting." her face was glowing with triumph. "no. luck is with us, mr. schmidt. you'll see!" the magistrate cleared his throat and beamed upon them in a most friendly fashion. robin grasped the situation in a flash. his own identity had been revealed to the judge. it was not likely that the daughter of william blithers could create such lively interest in a french court of justice, so it _must_ be that gourou or quinnox had come to the rescue. the court would not think of fining a prince of the royal blood, law or no law! "m'sieur, mademoiselle, will you be so good as to resume your seats? an extraordinary condition has arisen. i shall be obliged to investigate. the trial must be interrupted for a few minutes. pardon the delay. i shall return as quickly as possible. _sergent!_ see that mademoiselle and m'sieur are made comfortable." he descended from the bench and hurried into the corridor, followed closely by the prosecutor and the advocate, both of whom almost trod on his heels. this may have been due to the fact that they were slighter men and more sprightly, but more than likely it was because they were unable to see where they were going for the excellent reason that they were not looking in that direction at all. policemen and attendants, mystified but impressed, set about to make the culprits comfortable. they hustled at least a half dozen roomy chairs out of an adjoining chamber; they procured palm-leaf fans and even proffered the improbable--ice-water!--after which they betook themselves to a remote corner and whispered excitedly at each other, all the while regarding the two prisoners with intense interest. even the despairing footman and chauffeur exhibited unmistakable signs of life. "i fancy my friends have heard of our plight, mr. schmidt," she said, quite composedly. "we will be released in a very few minutes." he smiled complacently. he could afford to let her believe that her friends and not his were performing a miracle. "your friends must be very powerful," he said. "they are," said she, with considerable directness. "still, we are not out of the scrape yet, miss guile," he remarked, shaking his head. "it may be a flash in the pan." "oh, please don't say that," she cried in quick alarm. "i--i should die if--if we were to be sent to--" "listen to me," he broke in eagerly, for an inspiration had come to him. "there's no reason why you should suffer, in any event. apparently i am a suspected person. i may just as well be a kidnapper as not. you must allow me to inform the judge that i was abducting you, so that he--" "how absurd!" "i don't in the least mind. besides, i too have powerful friends who will see that i am released in a day or two. you--" "you cannot hope to convince the judge that you were abducting me in my own automobile--or at least in one belonging to my friends, who are irreproachable. i am very much obliged to you for thinking of it, mr. schmidt, but it is out of the question. i couldn't allow you to do it in the first place, and in the second i'm sure the court wouldn't believe you." "it was i who suggested running away from those detectives," he protested. "but i jumped at the chance, didn't i?" she whispered triumphantly. "i am even guiltier than thou. can you ever forgive me for--" "hush!" he said, in a very low voice. his hand fell upon hers as it rested on the arm of the chair. they were in the shadows. she looked up quickly and their eyes met. after a moment hers fell, and she gently withdrew her hand from its place of bondage. "we are pals, bedelia," he went on softly. "pals never go back on each other. they sink or swim together, and they never stop to inquire the reason why. when it comes to a pinch, one or the other will sacrifice himself that his pal may be saved. i--" "please do not say anything more," she said, her eyes strangely serious and her voice vibrant with emotion. "please!" "i have a confession to make to you," he began, leaning still closer. "you have taken me on faith. you do not know who or what i am. i--" she held up her hand, an engaging frown in her eyes. "stop! this is no place for confessions. i will not listen to you. save your confessions for the magistrate. tell him the truth, mr. schmidt. i am content to wait." he stared for an instant, perplexed. "see here, miss guile,--bedelia,--i've just got to tell you something that--" "you may tell me at interlaken," she interrupted, and she was now quite visibly agitated. "at interlaken? then you mean to carry out your plan to spend--" "sh! here they come. now we shall see." the magistrate and his companions re-entered the room at that instant, more noticeably excited than when they left it. the former, rubbing his hands together and smiling as he had never smiled before, approached the pair. it did not occur to him to resent the fact that they remained seated in his august presence. "a lamentable mistake has been made," he said. "i regret that m'sieur and mademoiselle have been subjected to so grave an indignity. permit me to apologise for the misguided energy of our excellent _sergents_. they--" "but we were exceeding the speed limit," said robin comfortably, now that the danger was past. "the officers were acting within their rights." "i know, i know," exclaimed the magistrate. "they are splendid fellows, all of them, and i beg of you to overlook their unfortunate--er--zealousness. permit me to add that you are not guilty--i should say, that you are honourably discharged by this humble court. but wait! the _sergents_ shall also apologise. here! attend. it devolves upon you--" "oh, i beg of you--" began robin, but already the policemen, who had been listening open-mouthed to the agitated prosecutor, were bowing and scraping and muttering their apologies for enforcing a cruel and unjust law. "and we are not obliged to give our names, _m'sieur le judge?_" cried miss guile gladly. "mademoiselle," said he, with a profound bow, "it is not necessary to acquaint me with something i already know. permit me to again express the most unbounded regret that--" "oh, thank you," she cried. "we have had a really delightful experience. you owe us no apology, m'sieur. and now, may we depart?" "instantly! lachance, conduct m'sieur and mademoiselle into the fresh, sweet, open air and discover their car for them without delay. _sergents_, remain behind. let there be nothing to indicate that there has been detention. mademoiselle, you have been merely making a philanthropic visit to our prison. there has been no arrest." robin and miss guile emerged from the low, forbidding door and stood side by side on the pavement looking up and down the street in search of the car. it was nowhere in sight. the chauffeur gasped with amazement--and alarm. he had left it standing directly in front of the door, and now it was gone. "it is suggested, m'sieur," said the polite lachance, "that you walk to the corner beyond, turn to the left and there you will find the car in plain view. it was removed by two gentlemen soon after you condescended to honour us with a visit of inspection, and thereby you have escaped much unnecessary attention from the curious who always infest the vicinity of police offices." he saluted them gravely and returned at once to the corridor. following leisurely in the wake of the hurrying servants, robin and bedelia proceeded down the narrow street to the corner indicated. they were silent and preoccupied. after all, _who_ was to be thanked for the timely escape, his god or hers? and here it may be said that neither of them was ever to know who sent that brief effective message to the magistrate, nor were they ever to know the nature of its contents. the men were examining the car when they came up. no one was near. there was no one to tell how it came to be there nor whither its unknown driver had gone. it stood close to the curb and the engine was throbbing, proof in itself that some one had but recently deserted his post as guardian. "the obliging man-hunters," suggested robin in reply to a low-voiced question. "or your guardian angel, the great gourou!" she said, frowning slightly. "by the way, mr. schmidt, do you expect to be under surveillance during your stay at interlaken?" there was irony in her voice. "not if i can help it," he said. "and you, miss guile? is it possible that two of the best detectives in paris are to continue treading on your heels all the time you are in europe? must we go about with the uncomfortable feeling that some one is staring at us from behind, no matter where we are? are we to be perpetually attended by the invisible? if so, i am afraid we will find it very embarrassing." they were in the car now and proceeding at a snail's pace toward the arc de triomphe. her eyes narrowed. he was sure that she clutched her slim fingers tightly although, for an excellent reason, he was not by way of knowing. he was rapturously watching those expressive eyes. "i shall put a stop to this ridiculous espionage at once, mr. schmidt. these men shall be sent kiting--i mean, about their business before this day is over. i do not intend to be spied upon an instant longer." "still they may have been instruments of providence to-day," he reminded her. "without them, we might now be languishing in jail and our spotless names posted in the place de l'opera. bedelia guile and rex schmidt, malefactors. what would your father say to that?" she smiled--a ravishing smile, it was. his heart gave a stupendous jump. "he would say that it served me right," said she, and then: "but what difference can it possibly make to you, mr. schmidt, if the detectives continue to watch over me?" "none," said he promptly. "i suppose they are used to almost anything in the way of human nature, so if they don't mind, i'm sure i sha'n't. i haven't the slightest objection to being watched by detectives, if we can only keep other people from seeing us." "don't be silly," she cried. "and let me remind you while i think of it: you are not to call me bedelia." "bedelia," he said deliberately. she sighed. "i am afraid i have been mistaken in you," she said. he recalled gourou's advice. had he failed in the test? "but don't do it again." "now that i think of it," he said soberly, "you are not to call me mr. schmidt. please bear that in mind, bedelia." "thank you. i don't like the name. i'll call you--" just then the footman turned on the seat and excitedly pointed to a car that had swung into the boulevard from a side street. "the man-hunters!" exclaimed robin. "by jove, we didn't lose them after all." "to the ritz, pierre," she cried out sharply. once more she seemed perturbed and anxious. "what are you going to call me?" he demanded, insistently. "i haven't quite decided," she replied, and lapsed into moody silence. her nervousness increased as they sped down the champs elysees and across the place de la concorde. he thought that he understood the cause and presently sought to relieve her anxiety by suggesting that she set him down somewhere along the rue de rivoli. she flushed painfully. "thank you, mr. schmidt, i--are you sure you will not mind?" "may i ask what it is that you are afraid of, miss guile?" he inquired seriously. she was lowering her veil. "i am not afraid, mr. schmidt," she said. "i am a very, very guilty person, that's all. i've done something i ought not to have done, and i'm--i'm ashamed. you don't consider me a bold, silly--" "good lord, no!" he cried fervently. "then why do you call me bedelia?" she asked, shaking her head. "if you feel that way about it, i--i humbly implore you to overlook my freshness," he cried in despair. "will you get out here, mr. schmidt?" she pressed a button and the car swung alongside the curb. "when am i to see you again?" he asked, holding out his hand. she gave it a firm, friendly grip and said: "i am going to switzerland the day after tomorrow. good-bye." in a sort of daze, he walked up the rue castiliogne to the place vendome. his heart was light and his eyes were shining with a flame that could have but one origin. he was no longer in doubt. he was in love. he had found the golden girl almost at the end of his journey, and what cared he if she did turn out to be the daughter of old man blithers? what cared he for _anything_ but bedelia? there would be a pretty howdy-do when he announced to his people that their princess had been selected for them, whether or no, and there might be such a thing as banishment for himself. even at that, he would be content, for bedelia was proof against titles. if she loved him, it would be for himself. she would scorn the crown and mock the throne, and they would go away together and live happily ever afterward, as provided by the most exacting form of romance. and blithers? what a joke it would be on blithers if he gave up the throne! as he approached the ritz, a tall young man emerged from the entrance, stared at him for an instant, and then swung off at a rapid pace in the direction of the rue de la paix. the look he gave robin was one of combined amazement and concern, and the tail end of it betrayed unmistakable annoyance,--or it might have been hatred. he looked over his shoulder once and found robin staring after him. this time there could be no mistake. he was furious, but whether with robin or himself there was no means of deciding from the standpoint of an observer. at any rate, he quickened his pace and soon disappeared. he was the good-looking young fellow who had met her at the steamship landing, and it was quite obvious that he had been making investigations on his own account. robin permitted himself a sly grin as he sauntered into the hotel. he had given _that_ fellow something to worry about, if he had accomplished nothing else. then he found himself wondering if, by any chance, it could be the scoville fellow. that would be a facer! he found quinnox and dank awaiting him in the lobby. they were visibly excited. "did you observe the fellow who just went out?" inquired robin, assuming a most casual manner. "yes," said both men in unison. "i think we've got some interesting news concerning that very chap," added the count, glancing around uneasily. "perhaps i may be able to anticipate it, count," ventured robin. "i've an idea he is young scoville, the chap who is supposed to be in love with miss blithers--and _vice versa_," he concluded, with a chuckle. "what have you heard?" demanded the count in astonishment. "let's sit down," said robin, at once convinced that he had stumbled upon an unwelcome truth. they repaired to the garden and were lucky enough to find a table somewhat removed from the crowd of tea-drinkers. robin began fanning himself with his broad straw-hat. he felt uncomfortably warm. quinnox gravely extracted two or three bits of paper from his pocket, and spread them out in order before his sovereign. "read this one first," said he grimly. it was a cablegram from their financial agents in new york city, and it said: "mr. b. making a hurried trip to paris. just learned scoville preceded miss b. to europe by fast steamer and has been seen with her in paris. b. fears an elopement. make sure papers are signed at once as such contingency might cause b. to change mind and withdraw if possible." robin looked up. "i think this may account for the two man-hunters," said he. his companions stared. "you will hear all about them from gourou. we were followed this afternoon." "followed?" gasped quinnox. "beautifully," said the prince, with his brightest smile. "detectives, you know. it was ripping." "my god!" groaned the count. "i fancy you'll now agree with me that she is miss blithers," said dank forlornly. "cheer up, boske," cried robin, slapping him on the shoulder. "you'll meet another fate before you're a month older. the world is absolutely crowded with girls." "you can't crowd the world with one girl," said dank, and it was quite evident from his expression that he believed the world contained no more than one. "i had the feeling that evil would be the result of this foolish trip to-day," groaned quinnox. "i should not have permitted you to--" "the result is still in doubt," said robin enigmatically. "and now, what comes next?" "read this one. it is from mr. blithers. i'll guarantee that you do not take this one so complacently." he was right in his surmise. robin ran his eye swiftly over the cablegram and then started up from his chair with a muttered imprecation. "sh!" cautioned the count,--and just in time, for the young man was on the point of enlarging upon his original effort. "calm yourself, bobby, my lad. try taking six or seven full, deep inhalations, and you'll find that it helps wonderfully as a preventive. it saves many a harsh word. i've--" "you needn't caution me," murmured the prince. "if i had the tongue of a pirate i couldn't begin to do justice to _this_," and he slapped his hand resoundingly upon the crumpled message from william w. blithers. the message had been sent by mr. blithers that morning, evidently just before the sailing of the fast french steamer on which he and his wife were crossing to havre. it was directed to august totten and read as follows: "tell our young friend to qualify statement to press at once. announce reconsideration of hasty denial and admit engagement. this is imperative. i am not in mood for trifling. have wired paris papers that engagement is settled. have also wired daughter. the sooner we get together on this the better. wait for my arrival in paris." it was signed "w. b." "there's blitherskite methods for you," said dank. "speaking of pirates, he's the king of them all. did you ever hear of such confounded insolence? the damned--" "wait a second, dank," interrupted the count. "there is still another delectable communication for you, robin. it was directed to r. schmidt and i took the liberty of opening it, as authorised. read it." this was one of the ordinary "_petits bleu_," dropped into the pneumatic tube letter-box at half-past two that afternoon, shortly before robin ventured forth on his interesting expedition in quest of tea, and its contents were very crisp and to the point: "pay no attention to any word you may have received from my father. he cables a ridiculous command to me which i shall ignore. if you have received a similar message i implore you to disregard it altogether. let's give each other a fighting chance." it was signed "maud blithers." chapter xvii the prodigal daughter mr. blithers received a marconigram from the _jupiter_ when the ship was three days out from new york. it was terse but sufficient. "have just had a glimpse of prince charming. he is very good-looking. love to mother. maud." he had barely settled into a state of complete satisfaction with himself over the successful inauguration of a shrewd campaign to get the better of the recalcitrant maud and the incomprehensible robin, when he was thrown into a panic by the discovery that young chandler scoville had sailed for europe two days ahead of maud and her elderly companion. the gratification of knowing that the two young people had sailed away on the same vessel was not in the least minimised by maud's declaration that she intended to remain in her cabin all the way across in order to avoid recognition, for he knew her too well to believe it possible that she could stay out of sight for any length of time, fair weather or foul. he even made a definite wager with his wife that the two would become acquainted before they were half-way across the atlantic, and he made a bet with himself that nature would do the rest. and now here came the staggering suspicion that scoville's hasty departure was the result of a pre-arranged plan between him and maud, and that, after all, the silly girl might spoil everything by marrying the confounded rascal before he could do anything to prevent the catastrophe. he even tried to engineer a scheme whereby young scoville might be arrested on landing and detained on one pretext or another until he could reach europe and put an end to the fellow's vain-glorious conniving. but after consulting with his lawyers he abandoned the plan because they succeeded in proving to him that maud certainly would marry the fellow if she had the least ground for believing that he was being oppressed on her account. the cables were kept very busy, however, for the next twenty-four hours, and it is certain that scoville was a marked man from the moment he landed. newspaper reporters camped on the trail of mr. blithers. he very obligingly admitted that there was something in the report that his daughter was to marry the prince of graustark, although he couldn't say anything definite at the time. it wouldn't be fair to the parties concerned, he explained. he gave away a great many boxes of cigars, and not a few of the more sagacious reporters succeeded in getting at least three boxes by interviewing him on as many separate occasions without being detected in the act of repeating. then came the disgusting denials in paris by his daughter and the ungrateful prince. this was too much. he couldn't understand such unfilial behaviour on the part of one, and he certainly couldn't forgive the ingratitude of the other. instead of waiting until saturday to sail, he changed ships and left new york on friday, thereby gaining nothing by the move except relief from the newspapers, for it appears that he gave up a five day boat for one that could not do it under six. still he was in active pursuit, which was a great deal better than sitting in new york twiddling his thumbs or looking at his watch and berating the pernicious hours that stood between him and saturday noon. "there will be something doing in europe the day i land there, lou," he said to his wife as they stood on deck and watched the statue of liberty glide swiftly back toward manhattan island. "i've got all the strings working smoothly. we've got groostock where it can't peep any louder than a freshly hatched chicken, and we'll soon bring maud to her senses. i tell you, lou, there is nothing that makes a girl forget her lofty ideals so quickly as the chance to go shopping for princess gowns. she's seen the prince and i'll bet she won't be so stubborn as she was before. and if he has had a good, square look at her,--if he's had a chance to gaze into those eyes of hers,--why, i--well, i leave it to you. he can't help getting off his high horse, can he?" mrs. blithers favoured him with a smile. it was acknowledged that maud was the living image of what her mother had been at the age of twenty. "i hope the child hasn't made any silly promise to channie scoville," she sighed. "i've been thinking of that, lou," said he, wiping his brow, "and i've come to one conclusion: scoville can be bought off. he's as poor as job and half a million will look like the bank of england to him. i'll--" "you are not to attempt anything of the kind, will," she cried emphatically. "he would laugh in your face, poor as he is. he comes from one of the best families in new york and--" "and i don't know where the best families need money any more than they do in new york," he interrupted irritably. "'gad, if the worst families need it as badly as they do, what must be the needs of the best? you leave it to me. it may be possible to insult him with a half million, so if he feels that way about it i'll apologise to him again with another half million. you'll see that he won't be capable of resenting two insults in succession. he'll--" "he isn't a fool," said she significantly. "he'd be a fool if he refused to take--" "are you losing your senses, will?" she cried impatiently. "why should he accept a million to give up maud, when he can be sure of fifty times that much if he marries her?" "but i'll cut maud off with a dollar if she marries him, so help me moses!" exclaimed mr. blithers, but he went a little pale just the same. "that will fix him!" "you are talking nonsense," said she sharply. he put his fingers to his ears somewhat earlier than usual, and she turned away with a tantalising laugh. "i'm going inside," and inside she went. when he followed a few minutes later he was uncommonly meek. "at any rate," he said, seating himself on the edge of a chair in her parlour, "i guess those cablegrams this morning will make 'em think twice before they go on denying things in the newspapers." "maud will pay no attention to your cablegram, and, if i am any judge of human nature, the prince will laugh himself sick over the one you sent to count quinnox. i told you not to send them. you are not dealing with wall street. you are dealing with a girl and a boy who appear to have minds of their own." he ventured a superior sniff. "i guess you don't know as much about wall street as you think you do." "i only know that it puts its tail between its legs and howls every time some one points a finger at it," she observed scornfully. "now let's be sensible, lou," he said, sitting back a little further in the chair, relieved to find that she was at least willing to tolerate his presence,--a matter on which he was in some doubt when he entered the room. there were times when he was not quite certain whether he or she was the brains of the family. "we'll probably have a wireless from maud before long. then we'll have something tangible to discuss. by the way, did i tell you that i've ordered some dutch architects from berlin to go--" "the dutch are from holland," she said wearily. "--to go over to growstock and give me a complete estimate on repairing and remodelling the royal castle? i dare say we'll have to do a good deal to the place. it's several hundred years old and must require a lot of conveniences. such as bath-rooms, electric lights, steam heating appar--" "better make haste slowly, will," she said, and he ought to have been warned by the light in her eye. "you are taking a great deal for granted, aren't you?" "it's got to be fixed up some time, so we might just as well do it in the beginning," said he, failing utterly to grasp her meaning. "probably needs refurnishing from top to bottom, too, and a new roof. i never saw a ruin yet that didn't leak. remember those castles on the rhine? will you ever forget how wet we got the day we went through the one at--" "they were abandoned, tumble-down castles," she reminded him. "there isn't a castle in europe that's any good in a rain-storm," he proclaimed. "a mortgage can't keep out the rain and that's what every one of 'em is covered with. why old man quiddox himself told me that their castle had been shot to pieces in one of the revolutions and--" "it is time you informed yourself about the country you are trying to annex to the blithers estate," she said sarcastically. "i can assist you to some extent if you will be good enough to listen. in the first place, the royal castle at edelweiss is one of the most substantial in the world. it has not been allowed to fall into decay. in fact, it is inhabitated from top to bottom by members of the royal household and the court, and i fancy they are not the sort of people who take kindly to a wetting. it is not a ruin, will, such as you have been permitted to visit, but a magnificent building with all of the modern improvements. the only wettings that the inmates sustain are of a daily character and due entirely to voluntary association with porcelain bath-tubs and nickle-plated showers, and they never get anything wet but their skins. as for the furnishings, i can assure you that the entire blithers fortune could not replace them if they were to be destroyed by fire or pillage. they are priceless and they are unique. i have read that the hangings in the bed-chamber of the late princess yetive are the most wonderful in the whole world. the throne chair in the great audience chamber is of solid gold and weighs nearly three thousand pounds. it is studded with diamonds, rubies--" "great scott, lou, where did you learn all this?" he gasped, his eyes bulging. "--emeralds and other precious stones. there is one huge carpet in the royal drawing-room that the czar of russia is said to have offered one hundred thousand pounds for and the offer was scorned. the park surrounding the castle is said to be beautiful beyond the power of description. the--" "i asked you where you got all this information. can't you answer me?" "i obtained all this and a great deal more from a lady who spent a year or two inside the castle walls. i refer to mrs. truxton king, who might have told you as much if you had possessed the intelligence to inquire." "gee whiz!" exclaimed mr. blithers, going back to his buoyant boyhood days for an adequate expression. "what a wonder you are, lou. but that's the woman of it, always getting at the inside of a thing while a man is standing around looking at the outside. say, but won't it make a wonderful home for you and me to spend a peaceful old age in when we get ready to lay aside the--" he stopped short, for she had arisen and was standing over him with a quivering forefinger levelled at his nose,--and not more than six inches away from it,--her handsome eyes flashing with fury. "you may walk in where angels fear to tread, but you will walk alone, will blithers. i shall not be with you, and you may as well understand it now. i've told you a hundred times that money isn't everything, and it is as cheap as dirt when you put it alongside of tradition, honour, pride and loyalty. those graustarkians would take you by the nape of the neck and march you out of their castle so quick that your head would swim. you may be able to buy their prince for maudie to exhibit around the country, but you can't buy the intelligence of the people. they won't have you at any price and they won't have me, so there is the situation in a nutshell. they will hate maudie, of course, but they will endure her for obvious reasons. they may even come to love and respect her in the end, for she is worthy. but as for you and me, william,--with all our money,--we will find every hand against us--even the hand of our daughter, i prophesy. i am not saying that i would regret seeing maud the princess of graustark--far from it. but i do say that you and i will be expected to know our places. if you attempt to spend your declining years in the castle at edelweiss you will find them reduced to days, and short ones at that. the people of graustark will see to it that you die before your time." "bosh!" said mr. blithers. "mind if i smoke?" he took out a cigar and began searching for matches. "no," she said, "i don't mind. it is a sign that you need something to steady your nerves. i know you, will blithers. you don't want to smoke. you want to gain a few minutes of time, that's all." he lit a cigar. "right you are," was his unexpected admission. "i wonder if you really have the right idea about this business. what objection could any one have to a poor, tired old man sitting in front of his daughter's fireside and--and playing with her kiddies? it seems to me that--" "you will never be a tired old man, that's the trouble," she said, instantly touched. "oh, yes, i will," said he slowly. "i'm rather looking forward to it, too." "it will be much nicer to have the kiddies come to your own fireside, will. i used to enjoy nothing better than going to spend a few days with my grandfather." "but what's the use of going to all this trouble and expense if we are not to enjoy some of the fruits?" he protested, making a determined stand. "if these people can't be grateful to the man who helps 'em out in their time of trouble,--and who goes out of his way to present 'em with a bright, capable posterity,--i'd like to know what in thunder gratitude really means." "oh, there isn't such a thing as gratitude," she said. "obligation, yes,--and ingratitude most certainly, but gratitude,--no. you are in a position to know that gratitude doesn't exist. are you forgetting the private advices we already have had from graustark? does it indicate that the people are grateful? there are moments when i fear that we are actually placing maud's life in peril, and i have had some wretched dreams. they do not want her. they speak of exile for the prince if he marries her. and now i repeat what i have said before:--the people of graustark must have an opportunity to see and become acquainted with maud before the marriage is definitely arranged. i will not have my daughter cast into a den of lions. will,--for that is what it may amount to. the people will adore her, they will welcome her with open arms if they are given the chance. but they will have none of her if she is forced upon them in the way you propose." "i'll--i'll think it over," said mr. blithers, and then discovered that his cigar had gone out. "i think i'll go on deck and smoke, lou. makes it stuffy in here. we'll lunch in the restaurant at half-past one, eh?" "think hard, will," she recommended, with a smile. "i'll do that," he said, "but there's nothing on earth that can alter my determination to make maud the princess of groostork. _that's_ settled." "graustark, will." "well, whatever it is," said he, and departed. he did think hard, but not so much about a regal home for aged people as about channie scoville who had now become a positive menace to all of his well-ordered and costly plans. the principal subject for thought just now was not graustark but this conniving young gentleman who stood ready to make a terrible mess of posterity. mr. blithers was sufficiently fair-minded to concede that the fellow was good-looking, well-bred and clever, just the sort of chap that any girl might fall in love with like a shot. as a matter of fact, he once had admired scoville, but that was before he came to look upon him as a menace. he would make a capital husband for any girl in the world, except maud. he could say that much for him, without reserve. he thought hard until half-past one and then went to the wireless office, where he wrote out a message in cipher and directed the operator to waste no time in relaying it to his offices in paris. his wife was right. it would be the height of folly to offer scoville money and it would be even worse to inspire the temporary imprisonment of the young man. but there was a splendid alternative. he could manage to have his own daughter abducted,--chaperon included,--and held for ransom! the more he thought of it the better it seemed to him, and so he sent a cipher message that was destined to throw his paris managers into a state of agitation that cannot possibly be measured by words. in brief, he instructed them to engage a few peaceable, trustworthy and positively respectable gentlemen,--he was particularly exacting on the score of gentility,--with orders to abduct the young lady and hold her in restraint until he arrived and arranged for her liberation! they were to do the deed without making any fuss about it, but at the same time they were to do it effectually. he had the foresight to suggest that the job should be undertaken by the very detective agency he had employed to shadow young scoville and also to keep an eye on maud. naturally, she was never to know the truth about the matter. she was to believe that her father came up with a huge sum in the shape of ransom, no questions asked. he also remembered in time and added the imperative command that she was to be confined in clean, comfortable quarters and given the best of nourishment. but, above all else, it was to be managed in a decidedly realistic way, for maud was a keen-witted creature who would see through the smallest crack in the conspiracy if there was a single false movement on the part of the plotters. it is also worthy of mention that mrs. blithers was never--_decidedly never_--to know the truth about the matter. he went in to luncheon in a very amiable, even docile frame of mind. "i've thought the matter over, lou," he said, "and i guess you are right, after all. we will make all the repairs necessary, but we won't consider living in it ourselves. we'll return good for evil and live in a hotel when we go to visit the royal family. as for--" "i meant that you were to think hard before attempting to force maud upon prince robin's subjects without preparing them for the--" "i thought of that, too," he interrupted cheerfully. "i'm not going to cast my only child into the den of lions, so that's the end of it. have you given the order, my dear?" "no," she said; "for i knew you would change it when you came in." late that evening he had a reply from his paris managers. they inquired if he was responsible for the message they had received. it was a ticklish job and they wanted to be sure that the message was genuine. he wired back that he was the sender and to go ahead. the next morning they notified him that his instructions would be carried out as expeditiously as possible. he displayed such a beaming countenance all that day that his wife finally demanded an explanation. it wasn't like him to beam when he was worried about anything, and she wanted to know what had come over him. "it's the sea-air, lou," he exclaimed glibly. "it always makes me feel like a fighting-cock. i--" "rubbish! you detest the sea-air. it makes you feel like fighting, i grant, but not like a fighting-cock." "there you go, trying to tell me how i feel. i've never known any one like you, lou. i can't say a word that--" "have you had any news from maud?" she broke in suspiciously. "not a word," said he. "what have you done to channie scoville?" she questioned, fixing him with an accusing eye. "not a thing," said he. "then, what is it?" "you won't believe me if i tell you," said he warily. "yes, i will." "no, you won't." "tell me this instant why you've been grinning like a cheshire cat all day." "it's the sea-air," said he, and then: "i said you wouldn't believe me, didn't i?" "do you think i'm a fool, will blithers?" she flashed, and did not wait for an answer. he chuckled to himself as she swept imperiously out of sight around a corner of the deck-building. he was up bright and early the next morning, tingling with anticipation. there ought to be word from paris before noon, and it might come earlier. he kept pretty close to the wireless operator's office, and was particularly attentive to the spitting crackle of the instrument. about eleven o'clock an incomprehensibly long message began to rattle out of the air. he contained himself in patience for the matter of half an hour or longer, and then, as the clatter continued without cessation, he got up and made his way to the door of the operator's office. "what is it? the history of england?" he demanded sarcastically. "message for you, mr. blithers. it's a long one and i'm having a hard time picking it up. everybody seems to be talking at once. do you want the baseball scores, mr. blithers?" "not unless they come in cipher," said mr. blithers acidly. "some of 'em do. six to nothing in favor of the giants, two to nothing--here we are at last. i've picked up the _mauretania_ again. she's relaying." mr. blithers sat down on the steps and looked at his watch. it would be five o'clock in paris. he wondered if they were giving maud her afternoon tea, and then choked up with a sudden pity for the terrified captive. it was all he could do to keep from jumping up and ordering the operator to drop everything and take a message countermanding his inhuman instructions to those asses in paris. tears gushed from his eyes. he brushed them away angrily and tried to convince himself that it served maud right for being so obstinate. still the tears came. the corners of his mouth drooped and his chin began to quiver. it was too much! the poor child was-- but just then the operator sat back with a sigh of relief, mopped his brow, and said: "good thing you're a rich man, mr. blithers. it came collect and--" "never mind," blurted mr. blithers. "hand it over." there were four sheets of writing at some outlandish price per word, but what cared he? he wanted to get back to his stateroom and his cipher code as quickly--but his eyes almost started from his head as he took in the name at the bottom of the message. it was "maud." he did not require the cipher book. a fourth reader child could have read the message without a halt. maud had taken his request literally. he had asked her to send him a nice long message, but he did not expect her to make a four-page letter of it. she was paying him out with a vengeance! he took the precaution to read it before handing it over to his wife, to whom it was addressed in conjunction with himself: "dear father and mother," it began--(and he looked at the date line again to make sure it was from paris)--"in reply to your esteemed favour of the nineteenth, or possibly the twentieth, i beg to inform you that i arrived safely in paris as per schedule. regarding the voyage, it was delightful. we had one or two rough days. the rest of the time it was perfectly heavenly. i met two or three interesting and amusing people on board and they made the time pass most agreeably. i think i wired you that i had a glimpse of a certain person. on my arrival in paris i was met at the station by friends and taken at once to the small, exclusive hotel where they are stopping for the summer. it is so small and exclusive that i'm sure you have never heard of it. i may as well tell you that i have seen channie,--you know who i mean,--chandler scoville, and he has been very nice to me. concerning your suggestion that i reconsider the statement issued to the press, i beg to state that i don't see any sense in taking the world into my confidence any farther than it has been taken already, if that is grammatically correct. i have also sent word to a certain person that he is not to pay any attention to the report that we are likely to change our minds in order to help out the greedy newspapers who don't appear to know when they have had enough. i hope that the voyage will benefit both of you as much as it did me. if i felt any better than i do now i'd call for the police as a precaution. let me suggest that you try the chicken a la bombardier in the ritz restaurant. i found it delicious. i daresay they serve it as nicely on your ship as they do on the _jupiter_. as the management is the same. of course one never can tell about chefs. my plans are a trifle indefinite. i may leave here at any moment. it is very hot and muggy and nearly every one is skipping off to the mountains or seashore. if i should happen to be away from paris when you arrive don't worry about me. i shall be all right and in safe hands. i will let you know where i am just as soon as i get settled somewhere. i must go where it is quiet and peaceful. i am so distressed over what has occurred that i don't feel as though i could ever be seen in public again without a thick veil and a pair of goggles. i have plenty of money for immediate use, but you might deposit something to my credit at the credit lyonnais as i haven't the least idea how long i shall stay over here. miranda is well and is taking good care of me. she seldom lets me out of her sight if that is any comfort to you. i hope you will forgive the brevity of this communication and believe me when i say that it is not lack of love for you both that curtails its length but the abominably hot weather. with endless love from your devoted daughter--maud." the tears had dried in mr. blithers' eyes but he wiped them time and again as he read this amazing letter,--this staggering exhibition of prodigality. he swore a little at first, but toward the end even that prerogative failed him. he set out in quest of his wife. not that he expected her to say any more than he had said, but that he wanted her to see at a glance what kind of a child she had brought into the world and to forever hold her peace in future when he undertook to speak his mind. he could not understand why his wife laughed softly to herself as she read, and he looked on in simple amazement when she deliberately undertook to count the words. she counted them in a whisper and he couldn't stand it. he went down where the children were shrieking over a game of quoits and felt singularly peaceful and undisturbed. it was nearly bed-time before word came from his managers in paris. bed-time had no meaning for him after he had worked out the message by the code. it is true that he observed a life-long custom and went to bed, but he did not do it for the purpose of going to sleep. "your daughter has disappeared from paris. all efforts to locate her have failed. friends say she left ostensibly for the pyrenees but inquiries at stations and along line fail to reveal trace of her. scoville still here and apparently in the dark. he is being watched. her companion and maid left with her last night. prince of graustark and party left for edelweiss to-day." so read the message from paris. chapter xviii a word of encouragement one usually has breakfast on the porch of the hotel schweizerhof at interlaken. it is not the most fashionable hostelry in the quaint little town at the head of the lake of thun, but it is of an excellent character, and the rolls and honey to be had with one's breakfast can not be surpassed in the bernese oberland. straight ahead lies one of the most magnificent prospects in all the world: an unobstructed view of the snow-thatched jungfrau, miles away, gleaming white and jagged against an azure sky, suggesting warmth instead of chill, grandeur instead of terror. looking up the valley one might be led to say that an hour's ramble would take him to the crest of that shining peak, and yet some men have made a life's journey of it. others have turned back in time. one has a whiff of fragrant woodlands and serene hay-cocks, a breath of cool air from the jungfrau's snows, a sniff of delectable bacon and toast--and a zest for breakfast. and one sets about it with interest, with the breakfast of the next day as a thing to look forward to. r. schmidt sat facing the dejected boske dank. his eyes were dancing with the joy of living, and nothing better can be said of a man's character than that he is gay and happy at breakfast-time. he who wakes up, refreshed and buoyant, and eager for the day's adventure, is indeed a child of nature. he will never grow old and crabbed; he will grip the hand of death when the time comes with the unconquered zeal that makes the grim reaper despise himself for the advantage he takes of youth. "well, here we are and in spite of that, where are we?" said dank, who saw nothing beautiful in the smile of any early morn. "i mean to say, what have we to show for our pains? we sneak into this godforsaken hamlet, surrounded on all sides by abominations in the shape of tourists, and at the end of twenty-four hours we discover that the fair miss guile has played us a shabby trick. i daresay she is laughing herself sick over the whole business." "which is more than you can say for yourself, boske," said robin blithely. "brace up! all is not lost. we'll wait here a day or two longer and then--well, i don't know what we'll do then." "she never intended to come here at all," said dank, filled with resentment. "it was a trick to get rid of us. she--" "be honest, old chap and say that it was a trick to get rid of _me_. us is entirely too plural. but i haven't lost heart. she'll turn up yet." "count quinnox is in despair over this extraordinary whim of yours, highness. he is really ill in bed this morning. i--" "i'll run up and see him after breakfast," cried the prince, genuinely concerned. "i'm sorry he is taking it so seriously." "he feels that we should be at home instead of dawdling about the--" "that reminds me. dank," broke in the prince, fresh happiness in his smile; "i've decided that home is the place for you and the count--and gourou too. i'm perfectly able to take care of myself,--with some assistance from hobbs,--and i don't see any necessity for you three to remain with me any longer. i'll tell the count that you all may start for vienna tonight. you connect with the orient express at--" "are you mad, highness?" cried dank, startled out of his dejection. "what you speak of is impossible--utterly impossible. we cannot leave you. we were delegated to escort you--" "i understand all of that perfectly, dank," interrupted robin, suddenly embarrassed, "but don't you see how infernally awkward it will be for me if miss guile does appear, according to plan? she will find me body-guarded, so to speak, by three surly, scowling individuals whose presence i cannot explain to save my soul, unless i tell the truth, and i'm not yet ready to do that. can't you see what i mean? how am i to explain the three of you? a hawk-eyed triumvirate that camps on my trail from morn till night and refuses to budge! she'll suspect something, old fellow, and--well, i certainly will feel more comfortable if i'm not watched for the next few days." "that's the point, highness. you've just got to be watched for the next few days. we would never dare to show our faces in graustark again if we allowed anything to happen to you while you are under our care. you are a sacred charge. we must return you to graustark as--er--inviolate as when you departed. we--we couldn't think of subjecting you to the peril of a--that is to say, it might prove fatal. graustark, in that event, would be justified in hanging two of her foremost citizens and yours truly from gibbets designed especially for the blackest of traitors." "i see, dank. if i find happiness, you are almost sure to find disgrace and death, eh? it doesn't seem a fair division, does it? i suppose you all feel that the worst thing that can possibly happen is for me to find happiness." "if i were the prince of graustark i should first think of the happiness of my subjects. i would not offend." "well put, boske, but fortunately you are not the prince. i sometimes wish that you were. it would relieve me of a tremendous responsibility. i am not mean enough, however, to wish a crown upon you, old fellow. you are lucky to be who and what you are. no one cares what you do, so long as you are honourable about it. with me it is different. i have to be watched day and night in order to be kept from doing what all the rest of the world looks upon as honourable." "i implore you, highness, to give up this mad enterprise and return to your people as--" "there is only one person in the world who can stop me now, dank." "and she isn't likely to do so, worse luck," was the other's complaint. "when she tells me to go about my business, i'll go, but not until then. don't you like honey, dank?" "no," said dank savagely. "i hate it." he leaned back in his chair and glowered upon the innocent, placid jungfrau. the prince ate in silence. "may i be permitted a question, highness?" "all you like, boske. you are my best friend. go ahead." "did you see miss guile after that visit to st. cloud--and to the police station?" "no. evidently she was frightened out of her boots by the hawkshaws. i don't blame her, do you?" "and you've had no word from her?" "none. now you are going to ask what reason i have for believing that she will come to interlaken. well, i can't answer that question. i think she'll come, that's all." "do you think she is in love with you?" "ah, my dear fellow, you are asking me to answer my own prayer," said robin, without a sign of resentment in his manner. "i'm praying that she isn't altogether indifferent. by the way, it is my turn to ask questions. are you still in love with her?" "i am proud to say that you are more in my prayers that she," said dank, with a profound sigh. "nothing could please me more than to be the one to save my prince from disaster, even if it meant the sacrifice of self. my only prayer is that you may be spared, sir, and i taken in your place." "that was a neat answer, 'pon my soul," cried the prince admiringly. "you--hello, who is this approaching? it is no other than the great gourou himself, the king of sleuths, as they say in the books i used to read. good morning, baron." the sharp-visaged little minister of police came up to the table and fixed an accusing eye upon his sovereign,--the literal truth, for he had the other eye closed in a protracted wink. "i regret to inform your majesty that the enemy is upon us," he said. "i fear that our retreat is cut off. nothing remains save--" "she has arrived?" cried the prince eagerly. "she has," said the baron. "bag and baggage, and armed to the eyes. each eye is a gatling-gun, each lip a lunette behind which lies an unconquerable legion of smiles and rows of ivory bayonets, each ear a hardy spy, and every nut-brown strand a covetous dastard on the warpath not for a scalp but for a crown. napoleon was never so well prepared for battle as she, nor troy so firmly fortified. yes, highness, the foe is at our gates. we must to arms!" "where is she?" demanded robin, unimpressed by this glowing panegyric. "at this instant, sir, i fancy she is rallying her forces in the very face of a helpless mirror. in other words, she is preparing for the fray. she is dressing." "the devil! how dare you pry into the secret--" "abhorrent thought! i deduce, nothing more. her maid loses herself in the halls while attempting to respond to the call for re-inforcements. she accosts a gentleman of whom she inquires the way. the gentleman informs her she is on the third, not the second _etage_, and she scurries away simpering, but not before confiding to me--the aforesaid gentleman--that her mistress will give her fits for being late with her hair, whatever that may signify. so, you see, i do not stoop to keyholes but put my wits to work instead." "when did she arrive?" "she came last night via milan." "from milan?" cried robin, astonished. "a roundabout way, i'll admit," said the baron, drily, "and tortuous in these hot days, but admirably suited to a purpose. i should say that she was bent on throwing some one off the track." "and yet she came!" cried the prince, in exultation. "she wanted to come, after all, now didn't she, dank?" he gave the lieutenant a look of triumph. "she is more dangerous than i thought," said the guardsman mournfully. "sit down, baron," commanded the prince. "i want to lay down the law to all of you. you three will have to move on to graustark and leave me to look out for myself. i will not have miss guile--" "no!" exclaimed the baron, with unusual vehemence. "i expected you to propose something of the kind, and i am obliged to confess to you that we have discussed the contingency in advance. we will not leave you. that is final. you may depose us, exile us, curse us or anything you like, but still we shall remain true to the duty we owe to our country. we stay here, prince robin, just so long as you are content to remain." robin's face was very red. "you shame me, baron," he said simply. "i am sorry that i spoke as i did. you are my friends, my loyal friends, and i would have humbled you in the eyes of my people. i beg your pardon, and yours, boske. after all, i am only a prince and a prince is dependent on the loyalty of such as you. i take back all that i said." the baron laid a kindly hand on the young man's shoulder. "i was rough, highness, in my speech just now, but you will understand that i was moved to--" "i know, baron. it was the only way to fetch me up sharp. no apology is required. god bless you." "now i have a suggestion of my own to offer," said the baron, taking a seat at the end of the table. "i confess that miss guile may not be favourably impressed by the constant attendance of three able-bodied nurses, and, as she happens to be no fool, it is reasonably certain that she will grasp the significance of our assiduity. now i propose that the count, dank and myself efface ourselves as completely as possible during the rest of our enforced stay in interlaken. i propose that we take quarters in another hotel and leave you and hobbs to the tender mercies of the enemy. it seems to me that--" "good!" cried robin. "that's the ticket! i quite agree to that, baron." dank was prepared to object but a dark look from gourou silenced him. "i've talked it over with the count and he acquiesces," went on the baron. "we recognise the futility of trying to induce you to leave at once for graustark, and we are now content to trust providence to watch over and protect you against a foe whose motives may in time become transparent, even to the blind." the irony in the remark was not lost on robin. he flushed angrily but held his tongue. ten o'clock found the three gentlemen,--so classified by hobbs,--out of the schweizerhof and arranging for accommodations at the regina hotel jungfraublick, perched on an eminence overlooking the valley and some distance removed from the temporary abode of the prince. their departure from the hotel in the hoheweg was accomplished without detection by miss guile or her friends, and, to all intents and purposes, robin was alone and unattended when he sat down on the porch near the telescope to await the first appearance of the enchanting foe. he was somewhat puzzled by the strange submissiveness of his companions. deep down in his mind lurked the disquieting suspicion that they were conniving to get the better of the lovely temptress by some sly and secret bit of strategy. what was back of the wily baron's motive? why were they now content to let him take the bit in his teeth and run wherever he would? what had become of their anxiety, their eagerness to drag him off to graustark by the first train? there was food for reflection in the tranquil capitulation of the defenders. were they acting under fresh instructions from edelweiss? had the prime minister directed them to put no further obstacle in front of the great blithers invasion? or--and he scowled darkly at the thought--was there a plan afoot to overcome the dangerous miss guile by means more sinister than subtle? enlightenment came unexpectedly and with a shock to his composure. he had observed the three spirited saddlehorses near the entrance of the hotel, in charge of two stable-boys, but had regarded them only as splendid specimens of equine aristocracy. it had not entered his mind to look upon them as agents of despair. two people emerged from the door and, passing by without so much as a glance in his direction, made their way to the mounting block. robin's heart went down to his boots. bedelia, a graceful figure in a smart riding habit, was laughing blithely over a soft-spoken remark that her companion had made as they were crossing the porch. and that companion was no other than the tall, good-looking fellow who had met her at cherbourg! the prince, stunned and incredulous, watched them mount their horses and canter away, followed by a groom who seemed to have sprung up from nowhere. "good morning, mr. schmidt," spoke a voice, and, still bewildered, he whirled, hat in hand, to confront mrs. gaston. "did i startle you?" he bowed stiffly over the hand she held out for him to clasp, and murmured something about being proof against any surprise. the colour was slowly returning to his face, and his smile was as engaging as ever despite the bitterness that filled his soul. here was a pretty trick to play on a fellow! here was a slap in the face! "isn't it a glorious morning? and how wonderful she is in this gorgeous sunlight," went on mrs. gaston, in what may be described as a hurried, nervous manner. "i had the briefest glimpse of her," mumbled robin. "when did she come?" "centuries and centuries ago, mr. schmidt," said she, with a smile. "i was speaking of the jungfrau." "oh!" he exclaimed, flushing. "i thought you--er--yes, of course! really quite wonderful. i have heard it said that she never removes her night-cap, but always greets the dawn in spotless--ahem! of course you understand that i am speaking of the jungfrau," he floundered. "naturally, mr. schmidt. and so you came, after all. we were afraid you might have concluded to alter your plans. miss guile will be delighted." he appeared grateful for the promise. "i have been here for three days, mrs. gaston. you were delayed in leaving paris?" "yes," she said, and changed the subject. "the riding is quite good, i understand. they are off for lauterbrunnen." "i see," said he. "there is a splendid inn there, i am told." "they will return here for luncheon, of course," she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. his heart became a trifle lighter at this. "mr. white is a lifelong friend and acquaintance of the family," she volunteered, apropos of nothing. "oh, his name is white?" with a quiet laugh. "if you have nothing better to do, mr. schmidt, why not come with me to the kursaal? the morning concert will begin shortly, and i--" "i think you will find that the band plays in the square across the way, mrs. gaston, and not in the casino. at least, that has been the programme for the last two mornings." "nevertheless, there is a concert at the casino today," she informed him. "will you come?" "gladly," he replied, and they set off for the kursaal. he found seats in the half-empty pavillion and prepared to listen to the music, although his real interest was following the narrow highway to lauterbrunnen--and the staubbach. "this is to be a special concert given at the request of the grand duke who, i hear, is leaving this afternoon for berne." "the grand duke? i was not aware of the presence of royalty," said he in surprise. "no? he has been here for three days, but at another hotel. the grand duke paulus and his family, you know." robin shot a swift, apprehensive glance about the big enclosure, sweeping the raised circle from end to end. on the opposite side of the pavillion he discovered the space reserved for the distinguished party. although he was far removed from that section he sank deeper into his chair and found one pretext after another to screen his face from view. he did know the grand duke paulus and the grand duke knew him, which was even more to the point. the prince of graustark had been a prime favourite of the great man since his knickerbocker days. twice as a boy he had visited in the ducal palace, far distant from graustark, and at the time of his own coronation the grand duke and his sons had come to the castle in edelweiss for a full month's stay. they knew him well and they would recognise him at a glance. at this particular time the last thing on earth that he desired was to be hailed as a royal prince. never, in all his life, had he known the sun to penetrate so brightly into shadows as it did to-day. he felt that he was sitting in a perfect glare of light and that every feature of his face was clear to the most distant observer. he was on the point of making an excuse to leave the place when the ducal party came sauntering down the aisle on their way to the reserved section. every one stood up, the band played, the grand duke bowed to the right and to the left, and escape was cut off. robin could only stand with averted face and direct mild execrations at the sunlight that had seemed so glorious at breakfast-time. "he is a splendid-looking man, isn't he?" mrs. gaston was saying. she was gazing in rapt admiration upon the royal group. "he is, indeed," said robin, resolutely scanning a programme, which he continued to hold before his face. when he sat down again, it was with his back to the band. "i don't like to watch the conductors," he explained. "they do such foolish things, you know." mrs. gaston was eyeing him curiously. he was bitterly conscious of a crimson cheek. in silence they listened to the first number. while the applause was at its height, mrs. gaston leaned forward and said to him: "i am afraid you are not enjoying the music, mr. schmidt. what is on your mind?" he started. "i--i--really, mrs. gaston, i am enjoying it. i--" "your mind has gone horse-back riding, i fear. at present it is between here and lauterbrunnen, jogging beside that roaring little torrent that--" "i don't mind confessing that you are quite right," said he frankly. "and i may add that the music makes me so blue that i'd like to jump into that roaring torrent and--and swim out again, i suppose," he concluded, with a sheepish grin. "you are in love." "i am," he confessed. she laid her hand upon his. her eyes were wide with eagerness. "would it drive away the blues if i were to tell you that you have a chance to win her?" he felt his head spinning. "if--if i could believe that--that-" he began, and choked up with the rush of emotion that swept through him. "she is a strange girl. she will marry for love alone. her father is determined that she shall marry a royal prince. that much i may confess to you. she has defied her father, mr. schmidt. she will marry for love, and i believe it is in your power to awaken love in that adorable heart of hers. you--" "for god's sake, mrs. gaston, tell me--tell me, has she breathed a word to you that--" "not a single word. but i know her well. i have known her since she was a baby, and i can read the soul that looks out through those lovely eyes. knowing her so well, i may say to you--oh, it must be in the strictest confidence!--that you have a chance. and if you win her love, you will _have_ the greatest treasure in all the world. she--but, look! the grand duke is leaving. he--" "i don't care what becomes of the grand duke," he burst out. "tell me more. tell me how you look into her soul, and tell me what you see--" "not now, sir. i have said enough. i have given you the sign of hope. it remains with you to make the most of it." "but you--you don't know anything about me. i may be the veriest adventurer, the most unworthy of all--" "i think, mr. schmidt, that i know you pretty well. i do not require the aid of diogenes' lantern to see an honest man. i am responsible for her welfare. she has been placed under my protection. for twenty years i have adored her. i am not likely to encourage an adventurer." "i must be honest with you, mrs. gaston," he said suddenly. "i am not--" she held up her hand. "mr. totten has informed me that you are a life-long friend of mrs. truxton king. i cabled to her from paris. there is no more to be said." his face fell. "did she tell you--everything?" "she said no more than that r. schmidt is the finest boy in all the world." suddenly her face paled. "you are never--_never_ to breathe a word of this to--to bedelia," she whispered. "but her father? what will he say to--" "her father has said all that can be said," she broke in quietly. "he cannot force her to marry the man he has selected. she will marry the man she loves. come now! let us go. i am tired of the music." "thank you, thank you, mrs. gaston," he cried, with shining eyes. "god bless you!" she gave him a queer look. "you must not think that your task is an easy one," she said meaningly. "there are other men in the world, you know." chapter xix "what will my people do!" the grand duke and his party left interlaken by special train early in the afternoon, and great was robin's relief when hobbs returned with the word that they were safely on their way to the capital of switzerland. he emerged from the seclusion of his room, where he had been in hiding since noon, and set out for a walk through the town. his head was high and his stride jaunty, for his heart was like a cork. people stared after him with smiles of admiration, and never a _cocher'_ passed him by without a genial, inviting tilt of the eyebrow and a tentative pull at the reins, only to meet with a pleasant shake of the head or the negative flourish of a bamboo cane. night came and with it the silvery glow of moonlight across the hoary headed queen of the oberland. when robin came out from dinner he seated himself on the porch, expectant, eager--and vastly lonesome. an unaccountable shyness afflicted him, rendering him quite incapable of sending his card up to the one who could have dispelled the gathering gloom with a single glance of the eye. would she come stealing out ostensibly to look at the night-capped peak, but with furtive glances into the shadows of the porch in quest of--but no! she would not do that! she would come attended by the exasperating mr. white and the friendly duenna. her starry eyes, directed elsewhere, would only serve to increase the depth of the shadows in which he lurked impatient. she came at last--and alone. stopping at the rail not more than an arm's length from where he sat, she gazed pensively up at the solemn mistress of the valley, one slim hand at her bosom, the other hanging limp at her side. he could have touched that slender hand by merely stretching forth his own. breathless, enthralled, he sat as one deprived of the power or even the wish to move. the spell was upon him; he was in thralldom. she wore a rose-coloured gown, soft, slinky, seductive. a light egyptian scarf lay across her bare shoulders. the slim, white neck and the soft dark hair--but she sighed! he heard that faint, quick-drawn sigh and started to his feet. "bedelia!" he whispered softly. she turned quickly, to find him standing beside her, his face aglow with rapture. a quick catch of the breath, a sudden movement of the hand that lay upon her breast, and then she smiled,--a wavering, uncertain smile that went straight to his heart and shamed him for startling her. "i beg your pardon," he began lamely. "i--i startled you." she held out her hand to him, still smiling. "i fear i shall never become accustomed to being pursued," she said, striving for command of her voice. "it is dreadful to feel that some one is forever watching you from behind. i am glad it is you, however. you at least are not 'the secret eye that never sleeps'!" she gently withdrew her hand from his ardent clasp. "mrs. gaston told me that she had seen you. i feared that you might have gone on your way rejoicing." "rejoicing?" he cried. "why do you say that?" "after our experience in paris, i should think that you had had enough of me and my faithful watchdogs." "rubbish!" he exclaimed. "i shall never have enough of you," he went on, with sudden boldness. "as for the watch-dogs, they are not likely to bite us, so what is there to be afraid of?" "have you succeeded in evading the watchful eye of mr. totten's friend?" she enquired, sending an apprehensive glance along the porch. "completely," he declared. "i am quite alone in this hotel and, i believe, unsuspected. and you? are you still being--" "sh! who knows? i think we have thrown them off the track, but one cannot be sure. i raised a dreadful rumpus about it in paris, and--well, they said they were sorry and advised me not to be worried, for the surveillance would cease at once. still, i am quite sure that they lied to me." "then you _are_ being followed." she smiled again, and there was mischief in her eyes. "if so, i have led them a merry chase. we have been travelling for two days and nights, mr. schmidt, by train and motor, getting off at stations unexpectedly, hopping into trains going in any direction but the right one, sleeping in strange beds and doing all manner of queer things. and here we are at last. i am sure you must look upon me as a very silly, flibberty-gibbet creature." "i see that your retinue has been substantially augmented," he remarked, a trace of jealousy in his voice. "the good-looking mr. white has not been eluded." "mr. white? oh, yes, i see. but he is to be trusted, mr. schmidt," she said mysteriously--and tantalisingly. "he will not betray me to my cruel monster of a father. i have his solemn promise not to reveal my whereabouts to any one. my father is the last person in the world to whom he would go with reports of my misdoings." "i saw you this morning, riding with him," said he glumly. "through the telescope?" she inquired softly, laying a hand upon the stationary instrument. he flushed hotly. "it was when you were starting out, miss guile. i am not one of the spies, you should remember." "you are my partner in guilt," she said lightly. "by the way, have you forgiven me for leading you into temptation?" "certainly. i am still in the garden of eden, you see, and as i don't take any stock in the book of genesis, i hope to prove to myself at least, that the conduct of an illustrious forebear of mine was not due to the frailties of eve but to his own tremendous anxiety to get out of a place that was filled with snakes. i hope and pray that you will continue to put temptation in my path so that i may have the frequent pleasure of falling." she turned her face away and for a moment was silent. "shall we take those chairs over there, mr. schmidt? they appear to be as abandoned as we." she indicated two chairs near the broad portals. he shook his head. "if we are looking for the most utterly abandoned, allow me to call your attention to the two in yonder corner." "it is quite dark over there," she said with a frown. "quite," he agreed. "which accounts, no doubt, for your failure to see them." "mrs. gaston will be looking for me before--" she began hesitatingly. "or mr. white, perhaps. let me remind you that they have exceedingly sharp eyes." "mr. white is no longer here," she announced. his heart leaped. "then i, at least, have nothing to fear," he said quickly. she ignored the banality. "he left this afternoon. very well, let us take the seats over there. i rather like the--shall i say shadows?" "i too object to the limelight,--bedelia," he said, offering her his arm. "you are not to call me bedelia," she said, holding back. "then 'forgive us our transgressions' is to be applied in the usual order, i presume." "are you sorry you called me bedelia?" she insisted, frowning ominously. "no. i'm sorry you object, that's all." they made their way through a maze of chairs and seated themselves in the dim corner. their view of the jungfrau from this vine-screened corner was not as perfect as it might have been, but the jungfrau had no present power of allurement for them. "i cannot stay very long," she said as she sank back in the comfortable chair. he turned his back not only upon the occupants of the porch but the lustrous jungfrau, drawing his chair up quite close to hers. as he leaned forward, with his elbows on the arms of the chair, she seemed to slink farther back in the depths of hers, as if suddenly afraid of him. "now, tell me everything," he said. "from beginning to end. what became of you after that day at st. cloud, whither have you journeyed, and wherefore were you so bent on coming to this now blessed interlaken?" "easily answered. nothing at all became of me. i journeyed thither, and i came because i had set my heart on seeing the jungfrau." "but you had seen it many times." "and i hoped that i might find peace and quiet here," she added quite distinctly. "you expected to find me here, didn't you?" "yes, but i did not regard you as a disturber of the peace." "you knew i would come, but you didn't know why, did you, bedelia?" he leaned a little closer. "yes, i knew why," she said calmly, emotionlessly. he drew back instantly, chilled by her directness. "you came because there was promise of an interesting adventure, which you now are on the point of making impossible by a rather rash exhibition of haste." he stared at her shadowy face in utter confusion. for a moment he was speechless. then a rush of protesting sincerity surged up within him and he cried out in low, intense tones: "i cannot allow you to think that of me, miss guile. if i have done or said anything to lead you to believe that i am--" "oh, i beg of you, mr. schmidt, do not enlarge upon the matter by trying to apologise," she cried. "i am not trying to apologise," he protested. "i am trying to justify what you are pleased to call an exhibition of haste. you see, it's just this way: i am obliged to make hay while the sun shines, for soon i may be cast into utter darkness. my days are numbered. in a fortnight i shall be where i cannot call my soul my own. i--" "you alarm me. are you to be sent to prison?" "you wouldn't look upon it as a prison, but it seems like one to me. do not laugh. i cannot explain to you now. another day i shall tell you everything, so pray take me for what i am to-day, and ask no questions. i have asked no more of you, so do you be equally generous with me." "true," she said, "you have asked no questions of me. you take me for what i am to-day, and yet you know nothing of my yesterdays or my to-morrows. it is only fair that i should be equally confiding. let there be no more questions. are we, however, to take each other seriously?" "by all means," he cried. "there will come a day when you may appreciate the full extent of my seriousness." "you speak in riddles." "is the time ripe for me to speak in sober earnest?" he questioned softly. she drew back again in swift alarm. "no, no! not now--not yet. do not say anything now, mr. schmidt, that may put an end to our--to our adventure." she was so serious, so plaintive, and yet so shyly prophetic of comfort yet to be attained, that his heart warmed with a mighty glow of exaltation. a sweet feeling of tenderness swept over him. "if god is good, there can be but one end to our adventure," he said, and then, for some mysterious reason, silence fell between them. long afterward--it seemed hours to him!--she spoke, and her voice was low and troubled. "can you guess why i am being watched so carefully, why i am being followed so doggedly by men who serve not me but another?" "yes. it is because you are the greatest jewel in the possession of a great man, and he would preserve you against all varlets,--such as i." she did not reveal surprise at his shrewd conjecture. she nodded her head and sighed. "you are right. i am his greatest jewel, and yet he would give me into the keeping of an utter stranger. i am being protected against that conscienceless varlet--love! if love lays hands upon me--ah, my friend, you cannot possibly guess what a calamity that would be!" "and love _will_ lay hands upon you, bedelia,--" "i am sure of that," she said, once more serene mistress of herself after a peculiarly dangerous lapse. "that is why i shudder. what could be more dreadful than to fall into the clutches of that merciless foe to peace? he rends one's heart into shreds; he stabs in the dark; he thrusts, cuts and slashes and the wounds never heal; he blinds without pity; he is overbearing, domineering, ruthless and his victims are powerless to retaliate. love is the greatest tyrant in all the world, mr. schmidt, and we poor wretches can never hope to conquer him. we are his prey, and he is rapacious. do you not shudder also?" "bless you, no! i'd rather enjoy meeting him in mortal combat. my notion of bliss would be a fight to the death with love, for then the conflict would not be one-sided. what could be more glorious than to stand face to face with love, hand to hand, breast to breast, lip to lip until the end of time? let him cut and slash and stab if you will, there would still be recompense for the vanquished. even those who have suffered most in the conflict with love must admit that they have had a share in the spoils. one can't ignore the sweet hours when counting up the bitter ones, after love has withdrawn from the tender encounter. the cuts and slashes are cherished and memory is a store-house for the spoils that must be shared with vanity." "it sounds like a book. who is your favourite author?" she inquired lightly. "baedeker," he replied, with promptness. "without my baedeker, i should never have chanced upon the route travelled by love, nor the hotel where i now lodge in close proximity to--" "will you please be sensible?" "you invite something to the contrary, bedelia," he ventured. "haven't i requested you to--" "i think of you only as bedelia," he made haste to explain. "bedelia will stick to you forever, you see, while miss guile is almost ephemeral. it cannot live long, you know, with so many other names eager to take its place. but bedelia--ah, bedelia is everlasting." she laughed joyously, naturally. "you really are quite wonderful, mr. schmidt. still i must change the subject. i trust the change will not affect your glibness, for it is quite exhilarating. how long do you purpose remaining in interlaken?" "that isn't changing the subject," said he. "i shall be here for a week or ten days--or perhaps longer." he put it in the form of a question, after all. "indeed? how i envy you. i am sorry to say i shall have to leave in a day or two." his face fell. "why?" he demanded, almost indignantly. "because i am enjoying myself," she replied. "i don't quite get your meaning." "i am having such a good time disobeying my father, mr. schmidt, and eluding pursuers. it is only a matter of a day or two before i am discovered here, so i mean to keep on dodging. it is splendid fun." "do you think it is quite fair to me?" "did i induce you to come here, good sir?" "you did," said he, with conviction. "heaven is my witness. i would not have come but for you. i am due at home by this time." "are you under any obligations to remain in interlaken for a week or ten days?" "not now," he replied. "do you mind telling me where you are going to, miss guile?" "first to vienna, then--well, you cannot guess where. i have decided to go to edelweiss." "edelweiss!" he exclaimed in astonishment. he could hardly believe his ears. "it is the very last place in the world that my father would think of looking for me. besides i am curious to see the place. i understand that the great mr. blithers is to be there soon, and the stupid prince who will not be tempted by millions, and it is even possible that the extraordinary miss blithers may take it into her head to look the place over before definitely refusing to be its princess. i may find some amusement--or entertainment as an on-looker when the riots begin." he was staring at her wide-eyed and incredulous. "do you really mean to say you are going to graustark?" "i have thought of doing so. don't you think it will be amusing to be on the scene when the grand climax occurs? of course, the prince will come off his high horse, and the girl will see the folly of her ways, and old mr. blithers will run 'rough shod over everybody, and--but, goodness, i can't even speculate on the possibilities." he was silent. so this was the way the wind blew, eh? there was but one construction to be put upon her decision to visit the capital of graustark. she _had_ taken it into her head "to look the place over before definitely refusing to be its princess!" his first thrill of exultation gave way to a sickening sense of disappointment. all this time she was regarding him through amused, half-closed eyes. she had a distinct advantage over him. she knew that he was the prince of graustark; she had known it for many days. perhaps if she had known all the things that were in his cunning brain, she would not have ventured so far into the comedy she was constructing. she would have hesitated--aye, she might have changed her methods completely. but she was in the mood to do and say daring things. she considered her position absolutely secure, and so she could afford to enjoy herself for the time being. there would be an hour of reckoning, no doubt, but she was not troubled by its promise of castigation. "poor prince!" she sighed pityingly. he started. the remark was so unexpected that he almost betrayed himself. it seemed profoundly personal. "he will be in very hot water, i fear." he regarded her coldly. "and you want to be on hand to see him squirm, i suppose." she took instant alarm. was she going too far? his query was somewhat disconcerting. "to be perfectly frank with you, mr. schmidt, i am going to graustark because no one will ever think of looking for me in such an out-of-the-way place. i am serious now, so you must not laugh at me. circumstances are such that i prefer to seek happiness after a fashion of my own. my parents love me, but they will not understand me. they wish me to marry a man they have picked out for me. i intend to pick out my own man, mr. schmidt. you may suspect, from all that you have seen, that i am running away from home, from those who are dearest in all the world to me. you knew that i was carefully watched in paris. you know that my father fears that i may marry a man distasteful to him, and i suppose to my mother, although she is not so--" "are his fears well-founded?" he asked, rudely interrupting her. "is there a man that he has cause to fear? are--are you in love with some one, bedelia?" "do not interrupt me. i want you to know that i am not running away from home, that i shall return to it when i see fit, and that i am not in love with the man they suspect. i want you to be just with me. you are not to blame my father for anything, no matter how absurd his actions may appear to you in the light of the past few days. it is right that he should try to safeguard me. i am wayward but i am not foolish. i shall commit no silly blunder, you may be sure of that. now do you understand me better?" she was very serious, very intense. he laid his hand on hers, and she did not withdraw it. emboldened, his hand closed upon the dainty fingers and an instant later they were borne to his hot lips. "you have said that i came here in search of a light adventure," he whispered, holding her hand close to his cheek as he bent nearer to her. "you imply that i am a trifler, a light-o'-love. i want you to understand me better. i came here because i--" "stop!" she pleaded. "you must not say it. i am serious--yes, i know that you are serious too. but you must wait. if you were to say it to me now i should have to send you away and--oh, believe me, i do not want to do that. i--i--" "you love no one else?" he cried, rapturously. she swayed slightly, as if incapable of resisting the appeal that called her to his heart. her lips were parted, her eyes glowed luminously even in the shadows, and she scarcely breathed the words: "i love no one else." a less noble nature than his would have seized upon the advantage offered by her sudden weakness. instead, he drew a long, deep breath, straightened his figure and as he gently released the imprisoned hand, the prince in him spoke. "you have asked me to wait. i am sure that you know what is in my heart. it will always be there. it will not cut and slash and stab, for it is the most tender thing that has ever come into my life--or yours. it must never be accused of giving pain to you, so i shall obey you--and wait. you are right to avoid the risk of entrusting a single word of hope to me. i am a passer-by. my sincerity, my honesty of purpose remain to be proved. time will serve my cause. i can only ask you to believe in me--to trust me a little more each day--and to let your heart be my judge." she spoke softly. "i believe in you, i trust you even now, or i would not be here. you are kind to me. few would have been so generous. we both are passers-by. it is too soon for us to judge each other in the full. i must be sure--oh, i must be sure of myself. can you understand? i must be sure of myself, and i am not sure now. you do not know how much there is at stake, you can not possibly know what it would mean to me if i were to discover that our adventure had no real significance in the end. i know it sounds strange and mysterious, or you would not look so puzzled. but unless i can be sure of one thing--one vital thing--our adventure has failed in every respect. now, i must go in. no; do not ask me to stay--and let me go alone. i prefer it so. good night, my comrade." he stood up and let her pass. "good night, my princess," he said, clearly and distinctly. she shot a swift glance into his eyes, smiled faintly, and moved away. his rapt gaze followed her. she entered the door without so much as a glance over her shoulder. "my princess," he repeated wonderingly, to himself. "have i kissed the hand of my princess? god in heaven, is there on earth a princess more perfect than she? can there be in all this world another so deserving of worship as she?" late at night she sat in her window looking up at the peaceful jungfrau. a dreamy, ineffably sweet smile lay in her dark eyes. the hand he kissed had lain long against her lips. to herself she had repeated, over and over again, the inward whisper: "what will my dear, simple old dad say if i marry this man after all?" in a window not ten feet away, he was staring out into the night, with lowering eyes and troubled heart, and in his mind he was saying: "what will my people do if i marry this woman after all?" chapter xx love in abeyance two days went by. they were fraught with an ever-increasing joy for the two who were learning to understand each other through the mute, though irresistible teachings of a common tutor. each succeeding hour had its exquisite compensation; each presented the cup of knowledge to lips that were parched with the fever of impotence, and each time it was returned empty by the seekers after wisdom. there were days in which love went harvesting and prospered amazingly in the fields, for each moment that he stored away against the future was ripe with promise. he was laying by the store on which he was to subsist to the end of his days; he allowed no moment to go to waste, for he is a miser and full of greed. not one word of love passed between these two who waited for the fruit to ripen. they were never alone together. always they were attended by the calm, keen-eyed mrs. gaston, who, though she may have been in sympathy with their secret enterprise, was nevertheless a dependable barrier to its hasty consummation. she had received her instructions from the one now most likely to be in need of a deterring influence; the girl herself. after that evening on the porch, bedelia had gone straight to her duenna with the truth. then she made it clear to the good lady that she was not to be left alone for an instant to confront the welcome besieger. and so it was that when robin and bedelia walked or rode together, they were attended by prevention. in the casino, at the gaming tables, at the concert, or even in the street he was never free to express a thought or emotion that, under less guarded conditions, might have exposed her to the risk she was so carefully avoiding. he understood the situation perfectly and was not resentful. he appreciated the caution with which she was carrying on her own campaign, and he was not unmindful of the benefits that might also accrue to him through this proscribed period of reflection. while he was sure of himself by this time, and fully determined to risk even his crown for the girl who so calmly held him at bay, he was also sensible of the wisdom of her course. she was not willing to subject herself or him to the dangers of temptation. as she had said, there was a great deal at stake; the rest of their lives, in truth. there was one little excursion to grindelwald and its glacier, and later an ascent of the schynige platte. even a desperate horror of the rack and pinion railway up and down the steep mountain did not daunt the incomparable chaperone. (true, she closed her eyes and shrank as far away from the edge of eternity as possible, but she stuck manfully to her post.) he dined with them on the two evenings, and with them heard the concerts. there were times when he was perplexed, and uncertain of her. at no time did she relax into what might have been considered a receptive or even an encouraging mood. he watched eagerly for the love-light that he hoped to surprise in her eyes, but it never appeared. she was serene, self-contained, natural. that momentary dissolving on her part when she sat with him in the shadows was the only circumstance he had to base his hopes upon. she had betrayed herself then by word and manner, but now she had her emotions well in hand. her lovely eyes met his frankly and without the faintest sign of diffidence or self-consciousness. her soft laugh was free and unconstrained, her smile gay and remotely suggestive of mischief. at times he thought she was playing the game too well for one who professed to be concerned about the future. on the third day he was convicted of duplicity. she went off for a walk alone, leaving him safely anchored in what he afterwards came to look upon as a pre-arranged game of auction-bridge. when she came in after an absence of at least two hours, the game was just breaking up. he noted the questioning look that mrs. gaston bestowed upon her fair charge, and also remarked that it contained no sign of reproof. the girl went up to her room without so much as a word with him. her face was flushed and she carried her head disdainfully. he was greatly puzzled. the puzzle was soon explained. he waited for her on the stairway as she came down alone to dinner. "you told me that your friends were not in interlaken, mr. schmidt," she said coldly. "why did you feel called upon to deceive me?" he bit his lip. for an instant he reflected, and then gave an evasive answer. "i think i told you that i was alone in this hotel. miss guile. my friends are at another hotel. i am not aware that--" "i have seen and talked with that charming old man, mr. totten," she interrupted. "he has been here for days, and mr. dank as well. do you think that you have been quite fair with me?" he lowered his eyes. "i think i have been most fair to both of us," he replied. "will you believe me when i say that in a way i personally requested them to leave this hotel and seek another? and will it decrease your respect for me if i add that i wanted to have you all to myself, so to speak, and not to feel that these good friends of mine were--" "why don't you look me in the face, mr. schmidt?" she broke in. he looked up at once prepared to meet a look of disdain. to his surprise, she was smiling. "i have talked it all over with mrs. gaston, and she advised me to forgive you if you were in the least penitent and--honest. well, you have made an honest confession, i am satisfied. now, i have a confession to make. i have suspected all along that mr. totten and mr. dank and the shadowy mr. gourou were in the town." "you suspected?" he cried in amazement and chagrin. "i was morally certain that they were here. today my suspicions were justified. i encountered mr. totten in the park beyond the jungfraublick. he was very much upset, i can assure you, but he recovered with amazing swiftness. we sat on one of the benches in a nice little nook and had a long, long talk. he is a charming man. i have asked him to come to luncheon with us to-morrow, and to bring mr. dank." "good lord, will wonders never--" "but i did not include the still invisible mr. gourou. i was afraid that you would be too uncomfortable under the hawk-like eye of the gentleman who so kindly warned us at the pavilion bleu." there was gentle raillery in her manner. "i shall expect you to join us, mr. schmidt. you have no other engagement?" "i--i shall be delighted," he stammered. she laid her hand gently upon his arm and a serious sweetness came into her eyes. "come," she said; "let us go in ahead of mrs. gaston. let us have just one little minute to ourselves, mr. schmidt." it was true that she came upon the count in one of the paths of the kleine rugen. he was walking slowly toward her, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the ground. when she accosted him, he was plainly confused, as she had said. after the first few passages in polite though stilted conversation, his keen, grey eyes resumed their thoughtful--it was even a calculating look. "will you sit here with me for a while, miss guile?" he asked gently. "i have something of the gravest importance to say to you." she sat beside him on the sequestered bench, and when she arose to leave him an hour later, her cheek was warm with colour and her eyes were filled with tenderness toward this grim, staunch old man who was the friend of _her_ friend. she laid her hand in his and suffered him to raise it to his lips. "i hope, my dear young lady," said he with simple directness, "that you will not regard me as a stupid, interfering old meddler. god is my witness, i have your best interests at heart. you are too good and beautiful to--" "i shall always look upon you as the kindest of men!" she cried impulsively, and left him. he stood watching her slender, graceful figure as she moved down the sloping path and turned into the broad avenue. a smallish man with a lean face came up from the opposite direction and stopped beside him. "could you resist her, quinnox, if you were twenty-two?" asked this man in his quiet voice. quinnox did not look around, but shook his head slowly. "i cannot resist her at sixty-two, my friend. she is adorable." "i do not blame him. it is fate. _she_ is fate. our work is done, my friend. we have served our country well, but fate has taken the matter out of our hands. there is nothing left for us to do but to fold our arms and wait." gourou revealed his inscrutable smile as he pulled at his thin, scraggly moustache. he was shaking his head, as one who resigns himself to the inevitable. after a long silence quinnox spoke. "our people will come to love their princess, gourou." "even as you and i, my friend," said the baron. and then they held their heads erect and walked confidently down the road their future sovereign had traversed before them. when mrs. gaston joined robin and bedelia at the table which had been set for them in the _salle a manger_, she laid several letters before the girl who picked them up instantly and glanced at the superscription on each. "i think that all of them are important," said mrs. gaston significantly. the smile on the girl's face had given way to a clouded brow. she was visibly perturbed. "you will forgive me, mr. schmidt," she said nervously. "i must look at them at once." he tried not to watch her face as she read what appeared to be a brief and yet evidently important letter, but his rapt gaze was not to be so easily managed. an exclamation of annoyance fell from her lips. "this is from a friend in paris, mr. schmidt," she said, hesitatingly. then, as if coming to a quick decision: "my father has heard that i am carrying on atrociously with a strange young man. it seems that it is a _new_ young man. he is beside himself with rage. my friends have already come in for severe criticism. he blames them for permitting his daughter to run at large and to pick up with every tom, dick and harry. dear me, i shudder when i think of what he will do to you, mrs. gaston. he will take off your head completely. but never fear, you old dear, i will see that it is put on again as neatly as ever. so, you see, mr. schmidt, you now belong to that frightful order of nobodies, the toms and the dicks and the harrys." "i see that there is a newspaper clipping attached," he remarked. "perhaps your father has been saying something to the newspapers." it was a mean speech and he regretted it instantly. she was not offended, however. indeed, she may not have heard what he said, for she was reading the little slip of printed matter. suddenly she tore it into tiny bits and scattered them under the table. her cheeks were red and her eyes glistened unmistakably with mortification. he was never to know what was in that newspaper cutting, but he was conscious of a sharp sensation of anger and pity combined. whatever it was, it was offensive to her, and his blood boiled. he noted the expression of alarm and apprehension deepen in mrs. gaston's face. bedelia slashed open another envelope and glanced at its contents. her eyes flew open with surprise. for an instant she stared, a frown of perplexity on her brow. "we are discovered!" she cried a moment later, clapping her hands together in an ecstasy of delight. "the pursuers are upon our heels. even now they may be watching me from behind some convenient post or through some handy window pane. isn't it fine? don't look so horrified, you old dear. they can't eat us, you know, even though we are in a dining-room. i love it all! followed by man-hunters! what could be more thrilling? the chase is on again. quick! we must prepare for flight!" "flight?" gasped robin. her eyes were dancing. his were filled with dismay. "it is as i feared," she cried. "they have found me out. hurry! let us finish this wretched dinner. i must leave here to-night." "impossible!" cried mrs. gaston. "don't be silly. to-morrow will be time enough. calm yourself, my dear." "to-morrow at sunrise," cried bedelia enthusiastically. "it is already planned, mr. schmidt. i have engaged an automobile in anticipation of this very emergency. the trains are not safe. to-morrow i fly again. this letter is from the little stenographer in paris. i bribed her--yes, i bribed her with many francs. she is in the offices of the great detective agency-'the eye that never sleeps!' i shall give her a great many more of those excellent francs, my friends. she is an honest girl. she did not fail me." "i don't see how you can say she is honest if she accepted a bribe," said mrs. gaston severely. "pooh!" was miss guile's sufficient answer to this. "we cross the brunig pass by motor. that really is like flying, isn't it?" "to lucerne?" demanded robin, still hazily. "no, no! that would be madness. we shall avoid lucerne. miles and miles to the north we will find a safe retreat for a day or two. then there will be a journey by rail to--to your own city of vienna, mr. schmidt. you--" "see here," said robin flatly, "i don't understand the necessity for all this rushing about by motor and--" "of course you don't," she cried. "you are not being sought by a cruel, inhuman monster of a father who would consign you to a most shudderable fate! you don't have to marry a man whose very name you have hated. you can pick and choose for yourself. and so shall i, for that matter. you--" "you _adore_ your father," cut in mrs. gaston sharply. "i don't think you should speak of him in that--" "of course i adore him! he is a dear old bear. but he is a monster, an ogre, a tyrant, a--oh, well, he is everything that's dreadful! you look dreadfully serious, mr. schmidt. do you think that i should submit to my father's demands and marry the man he has chosen for me?" "i do," said robin, abruptly and so emphatically that both of his hearers jumped in their seats. he made haste to dissemble. "of course, i'd much rather have you do that than to break your neck rolling over a precipice or something of the sort in a crazy automobile dash." miss guile recovered her poise with admirable promptness. her smile was a trifle uncertain, but she had a dependable wit. "if that is all that you are afraid of, i'll promise to save my neck at all costs," she said. "i could have many husbands but only one poor little neck." "you can have only one husband," said he, almost savagely. "by the way, why don't you read the other letter?" he was regarding it with jealous eyes, for she had slipped it, face downward, under the edge of her plate. "it isn't important," she said, with a quick look into his eyes. she convicted herself in that glance, and knew it on the instant. angry with herself, she snatched up the letter and tore it open. her cheeks were flushed. she read however without betraying any additional evidence of uneasiness or embarrassment. when she had finished, she deliberately folded the sheets and stuck them back into the envelope without comment. one looking over her shoulder as she read, however, might have caught snatches of sentences here and there on the heavily scrawled page. they were such as these: "you had led me to hope," ... "for years i have been your faithful admirer," ... "nor have i wavered for an instant despite your whimsical attitude," ... "therefore i felt justified in believing that you were sincere in your determination to defy your father." and others of an even more caustic nature: "you are going to marry this prince after all," ... "not that you have ever by word or deed bound yourself to me, yet i had every reason to hope," ... "your father will be pleased to find that you are obedient," ... "i am not mean enough to wish you anything but happiness, although i know you will never achieve it through this sickening surrender to vanity," ... "if i were a prince with a crown and a debt that i couldn't pay," ... "admit that i have had no real chance to win out against such odds," etc. she faced robin coolly. "it will be necessary to abandon our little luncheon for to-morrow. i am sorry. still mr. totten informs me that he will be in vienna shortly. the pleasure is merely postponed." "are you in earnest about this trip by motor to-morrow morning?" demanded robin darkly. "you surely cannot be--" "i am very much in earnest," she said decisively. he looked to mrs. gaston for help. that lady placidly shook her head. in fact, she appeared to be rather in favour of the preposterous plan, if one were to judge by the rapt expression on her countenance. "i had the supposedly honest word of these crafty gentlemen that i was not to be interfered with again. they gave me their promise. i shall now give them all the trouble possible." "but it will be a simple matter for them to find out how and when you left this hotel and to trace you perfectly." "don't be too sure of that," she said, exultantly. "i have a trick or two up my sleeve that will baffle them properly, mr. schmidt." "my dear," interposed mrs. gaston severely, "do not forget yourself. it isn't necessary to resort to slang in order--" "slang is always necessary," avowed bedelia, undisturbed. "goodness, i know i shall not sleep a wink to-night." "nor i," said robin gloomily. suddenly his face lightened. a wild, reckless gleam shot into his eyes and, to their amazement, he banged the table with his fist. "by jove, i know what i shall do. i'll go with you!" "no!" cried bedelia, aghast. "i--i cannot permit it, mr. schmidt. can't you understand? you--_you_ are the man with whom i am supposed to be carrying on atrociously. what could be more convicting than to be discovered racing over a mountain-pass--oh, it is not to be considered--not for an instant." "well, i can tell you flatly just what i intend to do," said he, setting his jaws. "i shall hire another car and keep you in sight every foot of the way. you may be able to elude the greatest detective agency in europe, but you can't get away from me. i intend to keep you now that i've got you, bedelia. you can't shake me off. where you go, i go." "do you mean it?" she cried, a new thrill in her voice. he looked deep into her eyes and read there a message that invited him to perform vast though fool-hardy deeds. her eyes were suddenly sweet with the love she had never expected to know; her lips trembled with the longing for kisses. "i shall travel far," she murmured. "you may find the task an arduous one--keeping up with me, i mean." "i am young and strong," he said, "and, if god is good to me, i shall live for fifty years to come, or even longer. i tingle with joy, bedelia, when i think of being near you for fifty years or more. have--have you thought of it in that light? have you looked ahead and said to yourself: fifty years have i to live and all of them with--" "hush! i was speaking of a week's journey, not of a life's voyage, mr. schmidt," she said, her face suffused. "i was speaking of a honeymoon," said he, and then remembered mrs. gaston. she was leaning back in her chair, smiling benignly. he had an uncomfortable thought: was he walking into a trap set for him by this clever woman? had she an ulterior motive in advancing his cause? "but it would be perfectly silly of you to follow me in a car," said bedelia, trying to regain her lost composure. "perfectly silly, wouldn't it, mrs. gas-ton?" "perfectly," said mrs. gaston. "i will promise to see you in vienna--" "i intend to see you every day," he declared, "from now till the end of time." "really, mr. schmidt, you--" "if there is one thing i despise beyond all reason, bedelia, it is the name of 'schmidt'! i wish you wouldn't call me by that name." "i can't just call you 'mister,'" she demurred. "call me rex for the present," said he. "i will supply you with a better one later on." "may i call him rex?" she inquired of her companion. "in moderation," said mrs. gaston. "very well, then, rex, i have changed my mind. i shall not cross the brunig by motor since you insist upon risking your neck in pursuit of me. i shall go by train in the morning,--calmly, complacently, stupidly by train. instead of a thrilling dash for liberty over rocky heights and through perilous gorges, i shall travel like any bourgeoise in a second--or third class carriage, and the only thrill i shall have will be when we stop for baker's chocolate at the top of the pass. by that time i expect to be sufficiently hungry to be thrilled even by the sight of a cake of chocolate. will you travel in the carriage behind me? i fancy it will be safe and convenient and you can't possibly be far from my heels." "that's a sensible idea," he cried. "and we may be able to accommodate your other pursuers on the same train. what's the sense of leaving them behind? they'd only catch us up in the end, so we might just as well take them along with us." "no. we will keep well ahead of them. i insist on that. they can't get here before to-morrow afternoon, so we will be far in the lead. we will be in vienna in two days. there i shall say good-bye to you, for i am going on beyond. i am going to graustark, the new blithers estate. surely you will not follow me there." "you are very much mistaken. i shall be there as soon as you and i shall stay just as long, provided mr. blithers has no objections," said robin, with more calmness than he had hoped to display in the face of her sudden thrust. "we are forgetting our dinner," said mrs. gaston quietly. "i think the waiter is annoyed." chapter xxi mr. blithers arrives in graustark mr. william w. blithers arrived in edelweiss, the capital of graustark, on the same day that the prince returned from his tour of the world. as a matter of fact, he travelled by special train and beat the prince home by the matter of three hours. the procession of troops, headed by the royal castle guard, it was announced would pass the historic hotel regengetz at five in the afternoon, so mr. blithers had front seats on the extension porch facing the platz. he did not know it, but if he had waited for the regular train in vienna, he would have had the honour of travelling in the same railway carriage with the royal young man. ("would" is used advisedly in the place of "might," for he _would_ have travelled in it, you may be sure.) moreover, he erred in another particular, for arriving at the same instant and virtually arm-in-arm with the country's sovereign, he could hardly have been kept out of the procession itself. when you stop to think that next to the prince he was the most important personage in the realm on this day of celebration, it ought not to be considered at all unreasonable for him to have expected some notable attention, such as being placed in the first carriage immediately behind the country's sovereign, or possibly on the seat facing him. missing an opportunity like this, wasn't at all mr. blithers' idea of success. he was very sorry about the special train. if it hadn't been for that train he might now be preparing to ride castlewards behind a royal band instead of sitting with his wife in the front row of seats on a hotel porch, just like a regular guest, waiting for the parade to come along. it certainly was a wasted opportunity. he had lost no time in his dash across the continent. in the first place, his agents in paris made it quite clear to him that there was likely to be "ructions" in graustark over the loan and the prospect of a plebeian princess being seated on the throne whether the people liked it or not; and in the second place, maud applegate had left a note on his desk in the paris offices, coolly informing him that she was likely to turn up in edelweiss almost as soon as he. she added an annoying postscript. she said she was curious to see what sort of a place it was that he had been wasting his money on! to say that he was put out by maud's aggravating behaviour would be stating the case with excessive gentleness. he was furious. he sent for the head of the detective agency and gave him a blowing up that he was never to forget. it appears that the detectives had followed a false lead and had been fooled by the wary maud in a most humiliating manner. they hadn't the remotest notion where she was, and evinced great surprise when informed in a voice loud enough to be heard a half-block away that she was on her way to graustark. they said it couldn't be possible, and he said they didn't know what they were talking about. he was done with them. they could step out and ask the cashier to give them a check for their services, and so on and so forth. he did not forget to notify them that they were a gang of loafers. then he dragged mrs. blithers off to the gare de l'este and took the express to vienna. he would see to the loan first and to maud afterward. he had no means of knowing that a certain miss guile was doing more to shape the destiny of the principality of graustark than all the millions he had poured into its treasury. nor had he the faintest suspicion that she was even then on graustark soil and waiting as eagerly as he for the procession to pass a given point. going back a day or two, it becomes necessary to report that while in vienna the perverse bedelia played a shabby trick on the infatuated robin. she stole away from the bristol in the middle of the night and was half-way to the graustark frontier before he was aware of her flight. she left a note for him, the contents of which sufficed to ease his mind in the presence of what otherwise might have been looked upon as a calamity. instead of relapsing into despondency over her defection, he became astonishingly exuberant. it was relief and not despair that followed the receipt of the brief letter. she had played directly into his hand, after all. in other words, she had removed a difficulty that had been troubling him for days: the impossibility of entering his own domain without betraying his identity to her. naturally his entrance to the capital would be attended by the most incriminating manifestation on the part of the populace. the character of r. schmidt would be effaced in an instant, and, according to his own notion, quite a bit too soon to suit his plans. he preferred to remain schmidt until she placed her hand in his and signified a readiness to become plain mrs. r. schmidt of vienna. that would be his hour of triumph. in her note she said: "forgive me for running away like this. it is for the best. i must have a few days to myself, dear friend,--days for sober reflection uninfluenced by the presence of a natural enemy to composure. and so i am leaving you in this cowardly, graceless fashion. do not think ill of me. i give you my solemn promise that in a few days i shall let you know where i may be found if you choose to come to me. even then i may not be fully convinced in my own mind that our adventure has reached its climax. you have said that you would accompany me to graustark. i am leaving to-night for that country, where i shall remain in seclusion for a few days before acquainting you with my future plans. it is not my intention to stop in edelweiss at present. the newspapers proclaim a state of unrest there over the coming visit of mr. blithers and the return of the prince, both of whom are very much in the public eye just now. i prefer the quiet of the country to the excitement of the city, so i shall seek some remote village and give myself up to--shall i say prayerful meditation? believe me, dear rex, to be your most devoted, though whimsical, bedelia." he was content with this. deep down in his heart he thanked her for running away at such an opportune time! the situation was immeasurably simplified. he had laid awake nights wondering how he could steal into his own domain with her as a companion and still put off the revelation that he was not yet ready to make. now the way was comparatively easy. once the demonstration was safely over, he could carry on his adventure with something of the same security that made the prowlings of the bagdad caliphs such happy enterprises, for he could with impunity traverse the night in the mantle of r. schmidt. immediately upon receiving her letter, he sent for quinnox and gourou, who were stopping at a hotel nearby. "i am ready to proceed to edelweiss, my friends," said he. "miss guile has departed. will you book accommodations on the earliest train leaving for home?" "i have already seen to that, highness," said gourou calmly. "we leave at six this evening. count quinnox has wired the prime minister that you will arrive in edelweiss at three to-morrow afternoon, god willing." "you knew that she had gone?" "i happened to be in the nordbahnhof when she boarded the train at midnight," replied the baron, unmoved. "do you never sleep?" demanded robin hotly. "not while i am on duty," said gourou. the prince was thoughtful, his brow clouding with a troubled frown. "i suppose i shall now have to face my people with the confession that will confirm their worst fears. i may as well say to you, my friends, that i mean to make her my wife even though it costs me my kingdom. am i asking too much of you, gentlemen, when i solicit your support in my fight against the prejudice that is certain to--" quinnox stopped him with a profound gesture of resignation and a single word: "kismet!" and gourou, with his most ironic smile, added: "you may count on us to support the crown, highness, even though we lose our heads." "thank you," said robin, flushing. "just because i appear to have lost my head is no reason for your doing the same, baron gourou." the baron's smile was unfaltering. "true," he said. "but we may be able to avoid all that by inducing the people of graustark to lose their hearts." "do you think they will accept her as--as their princess?" cried robin, hopefully. "i submit that it will first be necessary for you to induce miss guile to accept you as her prince," said gourou mildly. "that doesn't appear to be settled at present." he took alarm. "what do you mean? your remark has a sinister sound. has anything transpired to--" "she has disappeared, highness, quite effectually. that is all that i can say," said gourou, and robin was conscious of a sudden chill and the rush of cold moisture to his brow. "but let us prepare to confront an even more substantial condition. a prospective father-in-law is descending upon our land. he is groping in the dark and he is angry. he has lost a daughter somewhere in the wilds of europe, and he realises that he cannot hope to become the grandfather of princes unless he can produce a mother for them. at present he seems to be desperate. he doesn't know where to find her, as little bo-peep might have said. we may expect to catch him in a very ugly and obstreperous mood. have i told you that he was in this city last night? he arrived at the bristol a few hours prior to the significant departure of miss guile. moreover, he has chartered a special train and is leaving to-day for edelweiss. count quinnox has taken the precaution to advise the prime minister of his approach and has impressed upon him the importance of decrying any sort of popular demonstration against him on his arrival. romano reports that the people are in an angry mood. i would suggest that you prepare, in a way, to placate them, now that miss guile has more or less dropped out of sight. it behooves you to--" "see here," broke in robin harshly, "have you had the effrontery to make a personal appeal to miss guile in your confounded efforts to prevent the--" "just a moment, robin," exclaimed count quinnox, his face hardening. "i am sorry to hear words of anger on your lips, and directed toward your most loyal friends. you ask us to support you and in the next breath imply that we are unworthy. it is beneath the dignity of either baron gourou or myself to reply to your ungenerous charge." "i beg your pardon," said robin, but without lowering his head. he was not convinced. the barb of suspicion had entered his brain. were they, after all, responsible for bedelia's flight? had they revealed his identity to the girl and afterward created such alarm in her breast that she preferred to slink away in the night rather than to court the humiliation that might follow if she presumed to wed graustark's prince in opposition to his country's wish? "you must admit that the circumstance of her secret flight last night is calculated to--but, no matter. we will drop the subject. i warn you, however, that my mind is fixed. i shall not rest until i have found her." "i fancy that the state of unrest will be general," said gourou, with perfect good-nature. "it will go very hard with graustark if we fail to find her. and now, to return to our original sin: what are we to do about the ambitious mr. blithers? he is on my conscience and i tremble." it must not be supposed for an instant that the city of edelweiss and the court of graustark was unimpressed by the swift approach and abrupt arrival of mr. blithers. his coming had been heralded for days in advance. the city was rudely expectant, the court uneasy. the man who had announced his determination to manage the public and private affairs of the principality was coming to town. he was coming in state, there could be no doubt about that. more than that, he was coming to propitiate the people whether they chose to be mollified or not. he was bringing with him a vast store of business acumen, an unexampled confidence and the self-assurance of one who has never encountered failure. shylock's mantle rested on his hated shoulders, and judas iscariot was spoken of with less abhorrence than william w. blithers by the christian country of graustark. he was coming to get better acquainted with his daughter's future subjects. earlier in the week certain polite and competent gentlemen from berlin had appeared at the castle gates, carrying authority from the dauntless millionaire. they calmly announced that they had come to see what repairs were needed in and about the castle and to put the place in shape. a most regrettable incident followed. they were chased out of town by an angry mob and serious complications with the german empire were likely to be the result of the outrage. moreover, the citizens of graustark were openly reluctant to deposit their state bonds as security for the unpopular loan, and there was a lively sentiment in favour of renouncing the agreement entered into by the cabinet. the prime minister, in the absence of the prince, called mass meetings in all the towns and villages and emissaries of the crown addressed the sullen crowds. they sought to clarify the atmosphere. so eloquent were their pleadings and so sincere their promises that no evil would befall the state, that the more enlightened of the people began to deposit their bonds in the crown treasury. others, impressed by the confidence of their more prosperous neighbours, showed signs of weakening. the situation was made clear to them. there could be no possible chance of loss from a financial point of view. their bonds were safe, for the loan itself was a perfectly legitimate transaction, a conclusion which could not be gainsaid by the most pessimistic of the objectors. mr. blithers would be paid in full when the time came for settlement, the bonds would be restored to their owners, and all would be well with graustark. as for the huge transactions mr. blithers had made in london, paris and berlin, there could be but one conclusion: he had the right to invest his money as he pleased. that was his look-out. the bonds of graustark were open to purchase in any market. any investor in the world was entitled to buy all that he could obtain if he felt inclined to put his money to that use. the earnest agents of the government succeeded in convincing the people that mr. blithers had made a good investment because he was a good business man. what did it matter to graustark who owned the outstanding bonds? it might as well be blithers as bernstein or any one else. as for miss blithers becoming the princess of graustark, that was simple poppy-cock, declared the speakers. the crown could take oath that prince robin would not allow _that_ to happen. had he not declared in so many words that he would never wed the daughter of william blithers, and, for that matter, hadn't the young woman also announced that she would have none of him? there was one thing that mr. blithers couldn't do, and that was to marry his daughter to the prince of graustark. and so, by the time that mr. blithers arrived in edelweiss, the people were in a less antagonistic frame of mind,--though sullenly suspicious,--and were even prepared to grin in their sleeves, for, after all, it was quite clear that the joke was not on them but on mr. blithers. when the special train pulled into the station mr. blithers turned to his wife and said: "cheer up, lou. this isn't a funeral." "but there is quite a mob out there," she said, peering through the car window. "how can we be sure that they are friendly?" "don't you worry," said mr. blithers confidently. "they are not likely to throw rocks at the goose that lays the golden egg." if he had paused to think, he would not have uttered such a careless indictment. the time would come when she was to remind him of his thoughtless admission, omitting, however, any reference to the golden egg. the crowd was big, immobile, surly. it lined the sidewalks in the vicinity of the station and stared with curious, half-closed eyes at the portly capitalist and his party, which, by the way, was rendered somewhat imposing in size by augmentation in the shape of lawyers from paris and london, clerks and stenographers from the paris office, and four plain clothes men who were to see to it that midas wasn't blown to smithereens by envious anarchists; to say nothing of a lady's maid, a valet, a private secretary and a doctor. (mr. blithers always went prepared for the worst.) he was somewhat amazed and disgruntled by the absence of silk-hat ambassadors from the castle, with words of welcome for him on his arrival. there was a plentiful supply of policemen but no cabinet ministers. he was on the point of censuring his secretary for not making it clear to the government that he was due to arrive at such and such an hour and minute, when a dapper young man in uniform--he couldn't tell whether he was a patrolman or a captain--came up and saluted. "i am william w. blithers," said he sharply. "i am an official guide and interpreter, sir," announced the young man suavely. "may i have the honour--" "not necessary--not necessary at all," exploded mr. blithers. "i can get about without a guide." "you will require an interpreter, sir," began the other, only to be waved aside. "any one desiring to speak to me will have to do it in english," said mr. blithers, and marched out to the carriages. he was in some doubt at first, but as his carriage passed swiftly between the staring ranks on the sidewalks, he began to doff his hat and bow to the right and the left. his smiles were returned by the multitude, and so his progress was more or less of a triumph after all. at the regengetz he found additional cause for irritation. the lords and nobles who should have met him at the railway station were as conspicuously absent in the rotunda of the hotel. no one was there to receive him except the ingratiating manager of the establishment, who hoped that he had had a pleasant trip and who assured him that it would not be more than a couple of hours before his rooms would be vacated by the people who now had them but were going away as soon as the procession had passed. "get 'em out at once," stormed mr. blithers. "do you think i want to hang around this infernal lobby until--" "pardon me," said the manager blandly, "but your rooms will not be ready for you before four or five o'clock. they are occupied. we can put you temporarily in rooms at the rear if your lady desires to rest and refresh herself after the journey." "well, i'll be--" began mr. blithers, purple in the face, and then leaned suddenly against the counter, incapable of finishing the sentence. the manager rubbed his hands and smiled. "this is one of our gala days, mr. blithers. you could not have arrived at a time more opportune. i have taken the precaution to reserve chairs for you on the verandah. the procession will pass directly in front of the hotel on its way to castle avenue." "what procession?" demanded mr. blithers. he was beginning to recall the presence of uniformed bands and mounted troops in the side streets near the station. "the prince is returning to-day from his trip around the world," said the manager. "he ought to have been back long ago," said mr. blithers wrathfully, and mopped his brow with a hand rendered unsteady by a mental convulsion. he was thinking of his hat-lifting experience. true to schedule, the procession passed the hotel at five. bands were playing, people were shouting, banners were waving, and legions of mounted and foot soldiers in brilliant array clogged the thoroughfare. the royal equipage rolled slowly by, followed by less gorgeous carriages in which were seated the men who failed to make the advent of mr. blithers a conspicuous success. prince robin sat in the royal coach, faced by two unbending officers of the royal guard. he was alone on the rear seat, and his brown, handsome face was aglow with smiles. instead of a hat of silk, he lifted a gay and far from immaculate conception in straw; instead of a glittering uniform, he wore a suit of blue serge and a peculiarly american tie of crimson hue. he looked more like a popular athlete returning from conquests abroad than a prince of ancient lineage. but the crowd cheered itself hoarse over this bright-faced youngster who rode by in a coach of gold and brandished a singularly unregal chapeau. his alert eyes were searching the crowd along the street, in the balconies and windows with an eager intensity. he was looking for the sweet familiar face of the loveliest girl on earth, and knew that he looked in vain, for even though she were one among the many her features would be obscured by an impenetrable veil. if she were there, he wondered what her thoughts might be on beholding the humble r. schmidt in the role of a royal prince receiving the laudations of the loving multitude! passing the regengetz, his eyes swept the rows of cheering people banked upon its wide terrace and verandahs. he saw mr. and mrs. blithers well down in front, and for a second his heart seemed to stand still. would she be with them? it was with a distinct sensation of relief that he realised that she was not with the smiling americans. mr. blithers waved his hat and, instead of shouting the incomprehensible greeting of the native spectators, called out in vociferous tones: "welcome home! welcome! hurrah!" as the coach swerved into the circle and entered the great, tree-lined avenue, followed by the clattering chorus of four thousand horse-shoes, mrs. blithers after a final glimpse of the disappearing coach, sighed profoundly, shook out her handkerchief from the crumpled ball she had made of it with her nervously clenched fingers, touched her lips with it and said: "oh, what a remarkably handsome, manly boy he is, will." mr. blithers nodded his head proudly. "he certainly is. i'll bet my head that maud is crazy about him already. she can't help it, lou. that trip on the _jupiter_ was a god-send." "i wish we could hear something from her," said mrs. blithers, anxiously. "don't you worry," said he. "she'll turn up safe and sound and enthusiastic before she's a week older. we'll have plain sailing from now on, lou." chapter xxii a visit to the castle mr. blithers indeed experienced plain sailing for the ensuing twenty hours. it was not until just before he set forth at two the next afternoon to attend, by special appointment, a meeting of the cabinet in the council chamber at the castle that he encountered the first symptom of squalls ahead. he had sent his secretary to the castle with a brief note suggesting an early conference. it naturally would be of an informal character, as there was no present business before them. the contracts had already been signed by the government and by his authorised agents. so far as the loan was concerned there was nothing more to be said. everything was settled. true, it was still necessary to conform to a certain custom by having the prince affix his signature to the contract over the great seal of state, but as he previously had signed an agreement in new york this brief act was of a more or less perfunctory nature. the deposit of bonds by the state and its people would follow in course of time, as prescribed by contract, and mr. blithers was required to place in the bank of graustark, on such and such a date, the sum of three million pounds sterling. everybody was satisfied with the terms of the contract. mr. blithers was to get what really amounted to nearly nine percent on a gilt-edged investment, and graustark was to preserve its integrity and retain its possessions. there was a distant cloud on the financial horizon, however, a vague shadow at present,--but prophetic of storm. it was perfectly clear to the nobles that when these bonds matured, mr. blithers would be in a position to exact payment, and as they matured in twelve years from date he was likely to be pretty much alive and kicking when the hour of reckoning arrived. mr. blithers was in the mood to be amiable. he anticipated considerable pleasure in visiting the ancient halls of his prospective grandchildren. during the forenoon he had taken a motor ride about the city with mrs. blithers, accompanied by a guide who created history for them with commendable glibness and some veracity, and pointed out the homes of great personages as well as the churches, monuments and museums. he also told them in a confidential undertone that the prince was expected to marry a beautiful american girl and that the people were enchanted with the prospect! that sly bit of information realised ten dollars for him at the end of the trip, aside from his customary fee. the first shock to the placidity of mr. blithers came with the brief note in reply to his request for an informal conference. the lord chamberlain curtly informed him that the cabinet would be in session at two and would be pleased to grant him an audience of half an hour, depending on his promptness in appearing. mr. blithers was not accustomed to being granted audiences. he had got into the habit of having them thrust upon him. it irritated him tremendously to have any one measure time for him. why, even the president of the united states, the senate, or the district attorney in new york couldn't do _that_ for him. and here was a whipper-snapper lord chamberlain telling him that the cabinet would grant him half-an-hour! he managed to console himself, however, with the thought that matters would not always be as they were at present. there would be a decided change of tune later on. it would be folly to undertake the depiction of mr. blithers' first impressions of the castle and its glories, both inside out. to begin with, he lost no small amount of his assurance when he discovered that the great gates in the wall surrounding the park were guarded by resplendent dragoons who politely demanded his "pass." after the officer in charge had inspected the lord chamberlain's card as if he had never seen one before, he ceremoniously indicated to a warden that the gates were to be opened. there was a great clanking of chains, the drawing of iron bolts, the whirl of a windlass, and the ponderous gates swung slowly ajar. mr. blithers caught his breath--and from that instant until he found himself crossing the great hall in the wake of an attendant delegated to conduct him to the council chamber his sensations are not to be described. it is only necessary to say that he was in a reverential condition, and that is saying a great deal for mr. blithers. a certain bombastic confidence in himself gave way to mellow timidity. he was in a new world. he was cognisant of a distinct sensation of awe. his ruthless wall street tread became a mincing, uncertain shuffle; he could not conquer the absurd notion that he ought to tip-toe his way about these ancient halls with their thick, velvety rugs and whispering shadows. everywhere about him was pomp, visible and invisible. it was in the great stairway, the vaulted ceilings, the haughty pillars, over all of which was the sheen of an age that surpassed his comprehension. rigid servitors watched his progress through the vast spaces--men with grim, unsmiling faces. he knew, without seeing, that this huge pile was alive with noble lords and ladies: the court! gallantry and beauty to mock him with their serene indifference! somewhere in this great house beautiful women were idling, or feasting, or dreaming. he was conscious of their presence all about him, and shrank slightly as he wondered if they were scrutinising his ungainly person. he was suddenly ashamed of his tight-fitting cut-a-way coat and striped trousers. really he ought to get a new suit! these garments were much too small for him. were ironic eyes taking in the fresh creases in those new york trousers? were they regarding his shimmering patent leather shoes with an intelligence that told them that he was in pain? were they wondering how much he weighed and why he didn't unbutton his coat when he must have known that it would look better if it didn't pinch him so tightly across the chest? above all things, were they smiling at the corpulent part of him that preceded the rest of his body, clad in an immaculate waistcoat? he never had felt so conspicuous in his life, nor so certain that he was out of place. coming in due time--and with a grateful heart--to a small ante-chamber, he was told to sit down and wait. he sat down very promptly. in any other house he would have sauntered around, looking at the emblems, crests and shields that hung upon the walls. but now he sat and wondered. he wondered whether this could be william w. blithers. was this one of the richest men in the world--this fellow sitting here with his hands folded tightly across his waistcoat? he was forced to admit that it was and at the same time it wasn't. the attendant returned and he was ushered into a second chamber, at the opposite end of which was a large, imposing door--closed. beside this door stood a slim, erect figure in the red, blue and gold uniform of an officer of the castle guard. as mr. blithers approached this rigid figure, he recognised a friend and a warm glow pervaded his heart. there could be no mistaking the smart moustache and supercilious eye-brows. it was lieutenant dank. "how do you do?" said mr. blithers. "glad to see you again." his voice sounded unnatural. he extended his hand. dank gave him a ceremonious salute, bowed slightly but without a smile, and then threw open the door. "mr. blithers, my lords," he announced, and stood aside to let the stranger in a strange land pass within. a number of men were seated about a long table in the centre of this imposing chamber. no one arose as mr. blithers entered the room and stopped just inside the door. he heard it close gently behind him. he was at a loss for the first time in his life. he didn't know whether he was to stop just inside the door fingering his hat like a messenger boy, or go forward and join the group. his gaze fell upon a huge oaken chair at the far end of the table. it was the only unoccupied seat that came within the scope of his rather limited vision. he could not see anything beyond the table and the impassive group that surrounded it. was it possible that the big chair was intended for him? if so, how small and insignificant he would look upon it. he had a ghastly notion that his feet would not touch the floor, and he went so far as to venture the hope that there would be a substantial round somewhere about midway from the bottom. he had appeared before the inquisitorial committees in the united states senate, and had not been oppressed by the ponderous gravity of the investigation. he had faced the senators without a tremor of awe. he had even regarded them with a confidence, equal if not superior to their own. but now he faced a calm, impassive group of men who seemed to strip him down to the flesh with a cool, piercing interest, and who were in no sense impressed by what they saw. despite his nervousness he responded to the life long habit of calculation. he counted the units in the group in a single, rapid glance, and found that there were eleven. eleven lords of the realm! eleven stern, dignified, unsmiling strangers to the arrogance of william w. blithers! something told him at once that he could not spend an informal half-hour with them. grim, striking, serious visages, all of them! the last hope for his well-fed american humour flickered and died. he knew that it would never do to regale them in an informal off-hand way--as he had planned--with examples of native wit. reverting to the precise moment of his entrance to the castle, we find mr. blithers saying to himself that there wasn't the slightest use in even hoping that he might be invited to transfer his lodgings from the regengetz to the royal bed-chambers. the chance of being invited to dine there seemed to dwindle as well. while he sat and waited in the first antechamber he even experienced strange misgivings in respect to parental privileges later on. after what appeared to him to be an interminable length of time, but in reality no more than a few seconds, a tall man arose from his seat and advanced with outstretched hand. mr. blithers recognised count quinnox, the minister of war. he shook that friendly hand with a fervour that must have surprised the count. never in all his life had he been so glad to see any one. "how are you, my lord," said the king of finance, fairly meek with gratefulness. "excellently well, mr. blithers," returned the count. "and you?" "never better, never better," said mr. blithers, again pumping the count's hand up and down--with even greater heartiness than before. "glad to see you. isn't it a pleasant day? i was telling mrs. blithers this morning that i'd never seen a pleasanter day. we--" "let me introduce you to my colleagues, mr. blithers," interrupted the count. "happy, i'm sure," mumbled mr. blithers. to save his life, he couldn't tell what had got into him. he had never acted like this before. the count was mentioning the names of dukes, counts and barons, and mr. blithers was bowing profoundly to each in turn. no one offered to shake hands with him, although each rose politely, even graciously. they even smiled. he remembered that very well afterwards. they smiled kindly, almost benignly. he suddenly realised what had got into him. it was respect. "a chair, franz," said the white haired, gaunt man who was called baron romano. "will you sit here, mr. blithers? pray forgive our delay in admitting you. we were engaged in a rather serious discussion over--" "oh, that's all right," said mr. blithers, magnanimously. "am i interfering with any important business, gent--my lords? if so, just--" "not at all, mr. blithers. pray be seated." "sure i'm not taking any one's seat?" "a secretary's, sir. he can readily find another." mr. blithers sat down. he was rather pleased to find that the big chair was not meant for him. a swift intuition told him that it was reserved for the country's ruler. "the prince signed the contracts just before you arrived, mr. blithers," said baron romano. "the seal has been affixed to each of the documents, and your copy is ready for delivery at any time." mr. blithers recovered himself slightly. "you may send it to the hotel, baron, at any time to-morrow. my lawyers will have a look at it." then he made haste to explain: "not that it is really necessary, but just as a matter of form. besides, it gives the lawyers something to do." he sent an investigating glance around the room. "the prince has retired," said the baron, divining the thought. "he does not remain for the discussions." glancing at the huge old clock above the door, the prime minister assumed a most business-like air. "it will doubtless gratify you to know that three-fourths of the bonds have been deposited, mr. blithers, and the remainder will be gathered in during the week. holders living in remote corners of our country have not as yet been able to reach us with their securities. a week will give them sufficient time, will it not, count lazzar?" "i may safely say that all the bonds will be in our hands by next tuesday at the latest," said the minister of the treasury. he was a thin, ascetic man; his keen eyes were fixed rather steadily upon mr. blithers. after a moment's pause, he went on: "we are naturally interested in your extensive purchases of our outstanding bonds, mr. blithers. i refer to the big blocks you have acquired in london, paris and berlin." "want to know what i bought them for?" inquired mr. blithers amiably. "we have wondered not a little at your readiness to invest such a fortune in our securities." "well, there you have it. investment, that's all. your credit is sound, and your resources unquestioned, your bonds gilt-edge. i am glad of the opportunity to take a few dollars out of wall street uncertainties and put 'em into something absolutely certain. groo--gras--er--groostock bonds are pretty safe things to have lying in a safety vault in these times of financial unrest. they create a pretty solid fortune for my family,--that is to say, for my daughter and her children. a sensible business man,--and i claim to be one,--looks ahead, my lords. railroads are all right as long as you are alive and can run them yourself. it's after you are dead that they fail to do what is expected of them. new fingers get into the pie, and you never can tell what they'll pull out in their greediness. i cannot imagine anything safer in the shape of an investment than the bonds of a nation that has a debt of less than fifty million dollars. as a citizen of a republic whose national debt is nearly a billion, i confess that i can't see how you've managed so well." "we are so infinitesimal, mr. blithers, that i daresay we could be lost in the smallest of your states," said baron romano, with a smile. "rhode island is pretty small," mr. blithers informed him, without a smile. "it is most gratifying to graustark to know that you value our securities so highly as a legacy," said count lazzar, suavely. "may i venture the hope, however, that your life may be prolonged beyond the term of their existence? they expire in a very few years--a dozen, in fact." "oh, i think i can hang on that long," said mr. blithers, a little more at ease. he was saying to himself that these fellows were not so bad, after all. "still one never knows. i may be dead in a year. my daughter--but, of course, you will pardon me if i don't go into my private affairs. i fear i have already said too much." "on the contrary, sir, we are all only too willing to be edified. the workings of an intelligence such as jours cannot fail to be of interest to us who are so lacking in the power to cope with great undertakings. i confess to a selfish motive in asking you about your methods of--er--investment," said the minister of finance. mr. blithers failed to see that he was shrewdly being led up to a matter that was of more importance to graustark just then than anything along financial lines. "i am only too willing, my lords, to give you the benefit of my experience. any questions that you may care to ask, i'll be glad to answer to the best of my ability. it is only natural that i should take a great personal interest in graustock from now on. i want to see the country on the boom. i want to see it taking advantage of all the opportunities that--er--come its way. there may be a few pointers that william w. blithers can give you in respect to your railways and mines--and your general policy, perhaps. i hope you won't hesitate about asking." the prime minister tapped reflectively upon the table-top with his fingers for a moment or two. "thank you," he said. "we are at this very moment in something of a quandary in respect to the renewal of a treaty with one of our neighbours. for the past twenty years we have been in alliance with our next door neighbours, axphain on the north and dawsbergen on the south and east. the triple alliance will end this year unless renewed. up to the present our relations have been most amiable. axphain stands ready to extend our mutual protective agreement for another term of years, but dawsbergen is lukewarm and inclined to withdraw. when you become better acquainted with the politics of our country you will understand how regrettable such an action on the part of a hitherto friendly government will be." "what's the grievance?" inquired mr. blithers, bluntly. he was edging into familiar waters now. "what's the matter with dawsbergen? money controversy?" "not at all," said lazzar hastily. "why not let 'em withdraw?" said mr. blithers. "we can get along without them." there was a general uplifting of heads at the use of the pronoun, and a more fixed concentration of gaze. "i daresay you are already acquainted with the desire on the part of dawsbergen to form an alliance in which axphain can have no part," said baron romano. "in other words, it has been the desire of both dawsbergen and graustark to perfect a matrimonial alliance that may cement the fortunes of the two countries--" "count quinnox mentioned something of the sort," interrupted mr. blithers. "but suppose this matrimonial alliance doesn't come off, who would be the sufferer, you or dawsbergen? who will it benefit the most?" there was a moment's silence. doubtless it had never occurred to the ministry to speculate on the point. "dawsbergen is a rich, powerful country," said romano. "we will be the gainers by such an alliance. mr. blithers." "i don't go much on alliances," said the capitalist. "i believe in keeping out of them if possible." "i see," said the baron reflectively. there was another silence. then: "it has come to our notice in a most direct manner that the prince of dawsbergen feels that his friendly consideration of a proposal made by our government some years ago is being disregarded in a manner that can hardly be anything but humiliating to him, not only as a sovereign but as a father." "he's the one who has the marriageable daughter, eh? i had really forgotten the name." the baron leaned forward, still tapping the table-top with his long, slim fingers. "the report that prince robin is to marry your daughter, mr. blithers, has reached his ears. it is only natural that he should feel resentful. for fifteen years there has been an understanding that the crown princess of dawsbergen and the prince of graustark were one day to be wedded to each other. you will admit that the present reports are somewhat distressing to him and unquestionably so to the crown princess." mr. blithers settled back in his chair. "it seems to me that he is making a mountain out of a molehill." baron romano shrank perceptibly. "it devolves upon me, sir, as spokesman for the ministry, the court and the people of graustark, to inform you that marriage between our prince and any other than the crown princess of dawsbergen is not to be considered as possible." mr. blithers stared. "hasn't the prince any voice in the matter?" he demanded. "yes. he has already denied, somewhat publicly, that he is not contemplating marriage with your daughter. he has had a voice in that matter at least." a fine moisture started out on the purplish brow of mr. blithers. twenty-two eyes were upon him. he realised that he was not attending an informal conference. he had been brought here for a deliberate purpose. "i may be permitted the privilege of reminding you, my lords, that his denial was no more emphatic than that expressed by my daughter," he said, with real dignity. "we have accepted her statement as final, but it is our earnest desire that the minds of the people be set at rest," said the baron gravely. "i sincerely trust that you will appreciate our position, mr. blithers. it is not our desire or intention to offend in this matter, but we believe it to be only fair and just that we should understand each other at the outset. the impression is afoot that--" "my lords," said mr. blithers, rising, his face suddenly pale, "i beg leave to assure you that my daughter's happiness is of far more importance to me than all the damned principalities in the world. just a moment, please. i apologise for the oath--but i mean it, just the same. i do not resent your attitude, nor do i resent your haste in conveying to me your views on the subject. it may be diplomacy to go straight to a question and get it over with, but it isn't always diplomatic to go off half-cocked. i will say, with perfect candour, that i should like to see my daughter the princess of graustark, but--by god! i want you to understand that her own wishes in the matter are to govern mine in the end. i have had this marriage in mind, there's no use denying it. i have schemed to bring these two young people together with a single object in view. i knew that if they saw enough of each other they would fall in love, and they would want the happiness that love brings to all people. just a moment, baron! i want to say to you now, all of you, that if my girl should love your prince and he should love her in return, there isn't a power below heaven that can keep them apart. if she doesn't love him, and he should be unlucky enough to love her, i'd see him hanged before he could have her. i'll admit that i have counted on seeing all of this come to pass, and that i have bungled the thing pretty badly because i'm a loving, selfish father,--but, my lords, since you have brought me here to tell me that it is impossible for my girl to marry your prince, i will say to you, here and now, that if they ever love each other and want to get married, i'll see to it that it isn't impossible. you issue an ultimatum to me, in plain words, so i'll submit one to you, in equally plain words. i intend to leave this matter entirely to my daughter and prince robin. they are to do the deciding, so far as i am concerned. and if they decide that they love each other and want to get married, _they will get married_. do i make myself perfectly plain, my lords?" the dignified ministry of graustark sat agape. with his concluding words, mr. blithers deposited his clenched fist upon the table with a heavy thud, and, as if fascinated, every eye shifted from his face to the white knuckles of that resolute hand. baron romano also arose. "you place us in the extremely distressing position of being obliged to oppose the hand of a benefactor, mr. blithers. you have come to our assistance in a time of need. you have--" "if it is the loan you are talking about, baron, that is quite beside the question," interrupted mr. blithers. "i do not speculate. i may have had a personal motive in lending you this money, but i don't believe you will find that it enters into the contract we have signed. i don't lend money for charity's sake. i sometimes give it to charity, but when it comes to business, i am not charitable. i have made a satisfactory loan and i am not complaining. you may leave out the word benefactor, baron. it doesn't belong in the game." "as you please, sir," said romano coldly. "we were only intent upon conveying to you our desire to maintain friendly relations with you, mr. blithers, despite the unpleasant conditions that have arisen. i may at least question your right to assume that we are powerless to prevent a marriage that is manifestly unpopular with the subjects of prince robin." "i had it on excellent authority to-day that the people are not opposed to the union of my daughter and the prince," said mr. blithers. "i am compelled to say that you have been misinformed," said the baron, flatly. "i think i have not been misinformed, however, concerning the personal views of prince robin. if i am not mistaken, he openly declares that he will marry to suit himself and not the people of graustark. isn't it barely possible, my lords, that he may have something to say about who he is to marry?" "i confess that his attitude is all that you describe," said the baron. "he has announced his views quite plainly. we admit that he may have something to say about it." "then i submit that it isn't altogether an improbability that he may decide to marry according to the dictates of his heart and not for the sake of appearances," said mr. blithers scathingly. "i have an idea that he will marry the girl he loves, no matter who she may be." [illustration: the dignified ministry of graustark sat agape] count quinnox and baron gourou exchanged glances. these two men were guilty of having kept from their colleagues all information concerning a certain miss guile. they, as well as dank, were bound by a promise exacted by their sovereign prince. they alone knew that mr. blithers was supported by an incontrovertible truth. for the present, their lips were sealed, and yet they faced that anxious group with a complete understanding of the situation. they knew that mr. blithers was right. prince robin would marry the girl that he loved, and no other. they knew that their prince expected to marry the daughter of the man who now faced these proud noblemen and virtually defied them! "am i not right, count quinnox?" demanded mr. blithers, turning suddenly upon the minister of war. "you are in a position to know something about him. am i not right?" every eye was on the count. "prince robin will marry for love, my lords," he said quietly, "i am forced to agree with mr. blithers." baron romano sank into his chair. there was silence in the room for many seconds. "may i enquire, count quinnox, if you know anything of the present state of prince robin's--er--heart?" inquired the prime minister finally. a tinge of red appeared in each of count quinnox's swarthy cheeks. "i can only surmise," said he briefly. "has--has he met some one in whom he feels a--er--an interest?" "yes." "may we have the benefit of your conclusions?" said baron romano, icily. "i am not at liberty to supply information at present," said the count, visibly distressed. mr. blithers leaned forward, his hands upon the table. "some one he met after leaving new york?" he inquired eagerly. "time will reveal everything, mr. blithers," said the count, and closed his jaws resolutely. his colleagues looked at him in consternation. the worst, then, had happened! a gleam of triumph shot into the eyes of mr. blithers. his heart swelled. he felt himself stepping out upon safe, solid ground after a period of floundering. the very best, then, had happened! "my lords, i find that my half-hour is almost up," he said, pulling out his gold watch and comparing its time with that of the clock on the wall. "permit me to take my departure. i am content to let matters shape themselves as they may. shakespeare says 'there is a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them'--er--and so forth. allow me, however, before leaving, to assure you of my most kindly interest in the welfare of your state. you may be pleased to know that it is not from me that graustark--did i get it right that time?--will redeem her bonds when they mature, but from my only daughter. she is nearly twenty-one years of age. on her twenty-fifth birthday i shall present to her--as a gift--all of my holdings in graustark. she may do as she sees fit with them. permit me to wish you all good day, my lords. you may send the contract to my hotel, baron. i expect to remain in the city for some time." as he traversed the vast halls on his way to the outer world, he was again overcome by the uneasy conviction that ironic eyes were looking out upon him from luxurious retreats. again he felt that his coat fitted him too tightly and that his waistcoat was painfully in evidence. he hurried a bit. if he could have had his way about it, he would have run. once outside the castle doors, he lighted a big cigar, and threw the burnt-out match upon the polished flagstones of the terrace. he regretted the act on the instant. he wished he had not thrown it there. if the solemn grooms had not been watching, he would have picked it up and stuck it into his pocket for disposal on the less hallowed stones of a city thoroughfare. outside the gates he felt more at ease, more at home, in fact. he smoked in great contentment. in the broad, shady avenue he took out his watch and pried open the case. a great pride filled his eyes as he looked upon the dainty miniature portrait of his daughter maud. she _was_ lovely--she was even lovelier than he had ever thought before. at the regengetz a telegram awaited him. it was from maud. "i shall be in edelweiss this week without fail. i have something very important to tell you." so it read. chapter xxiii pingari's nine o'clock of a rainy night, on the steep, winding road that climbed the mountain-side from the walled-in city to the crest on which stood the famed monastery of st. valentine,--nine o'clock of a night fraught with pleasurable anticipation on the part of one r. schmidt, whose eager progress up the slope was all too slow notwithstanding the encouragement offered by the conscienceless jehu who frequently beat his poor steeds into a gallop over level stretches and never allowed them to pause on the cruel grades. late in the afternoon there had come to the general post-office a letter for mr. r. schmidt. he had told her that any message intended for him would reach his hands if directed to the post-office. since his arrival in the city, three days before, he had purposely avoided the main streets and avenues of edelweiss, venturing forth but seldom from the castle grounds, and all because he knew that he could not go abroad during the day-time without forfeiting the privileges to be enjoyed in emulation of the good caliphs of baghdad. his people would betray their prince because they loved him: his passage through the streets could only be attended by respectful homage on the part of every man, woman and child in the place. if bedelia were there, she could not help knowing who and what he was, with every one stupidly lifting his hat and bowing to him as he passed, and he did not want bedelia to know the truth about him until she had answered an all-important question, as has been mentioned before on more than one occasion in the course of this simple tale. her letter was brief. she merely acquainted him with the fact that she had arrived in edelweiss that day from ganlook, twenty miles away, and was stopping at the inn of the stars outside the city gates and half way up the mountain-side, preferring the quiet, ancient tavern to the stately regengetz for reasons of her own. in closing she said that she would be delighted to see him when it was convenient for him to come to her. on receipt of this singularly matter-of-fact letter, he promptly despatched a message to miss guile, inn of the stars, saying that she might expect him at nine that night. fortunately for him, the night was wet and blustering. he donned a rain-coat, whose cape and collar served to cover the lower part of his face fairly well, and completed his disguise by pulling far down over his eyes the villainous broad-brimmed hat affected by the shepherds in the hills. he had a pair of dark eye-glasses in reserve for the crucial test that would come with his entrance to the inn. stealing away from the castle at night, he entered the ram-shackle cab that hobbs had engaged for the expedition, and which awaited him not far from the private entrance to the park. warders at the gate looked askance as he passed them by, but not one presumed to question him. they winked slyly at each other, however, after he had disappeared in the shadows beyond the rays of the feeble lanterns that they carried. it was good to be young! the driver of that rattling old vehicle was no other than the versatile hobbs, who, it appears, had rented the outfit for a fixed sum, guaranteeing the owner against loss by theft, fire or dissolution. it is not even remotely probable that the owner would have covered the ground so quickly as hobbs, and it is certain that the horses never suspected that they had it in them. the mud-covered vehicle was nearing the inn of the stars when robin stuck his head out of the window and directed hobbs to drive slower. "very good, sir," said hobbs. "i thought as how we might be late after losing time at the city gates, sir, wot with that silly guard and the--" "we are in good time, hobbs. take it easy." the lights of the inn were gleaming through the drizzle not more than a block away. robin's heart was thumping furiously. little chills ran over him, delicious chills of excitement. his blood was hot and cold, his nerves were tingling. the adventure! "whoa!" said hobbs suddenly. "'ello, wot the 'ell is--" a dark figure had sprung into the road-way near the horses' heads, and was holding up a warning hand. "is this mr. schmidt's carriage?" demanded a hoarse, suppressed voice. "it is," said hobbs, "for the time being. wot of it?" robin's head came through the window. "what do you want?" "some one is coming out here to meet you, sir. do not drive up to the doors. those are the orders. you are to wait here, if you please." then the man shot away into the darkness, leaving the wayfarers mystified by his words and action. "wot am i to do, sir?" inquired hobbs. "most hextraordinary orders, and who the deuce is behind them, that's wot i'd like to know." "we'll wait here, hobbs," said robin, and then put his hand suddenly to his heart. it was acting very queerly. for a moment he thought it was in danger of pounding its way out of his body! below him lay the lighted city, a great yellow cloud almost at his feet. nearer, on the mountain-side were the misty lights in the windows of dwellers on the slope, and at points far apart the street lamps, dim splashes of light in the gloom. far above were the almost obscured lights of st. valentine, hanging in the sky. he thought of the monks up there. what a life! he would not be a monk, not he. "my word!" exclaimed hobbs, but instantly resumed his character as cabby. a woman came swiftly out of the blackness and stopped beside the cab. she was swathed in a long gossamer, and hooded. the carriage lamps gleamed strong against the dripping coat. "is it you?" cried robin, throwing open the door and leaping to the ground. "it is i, m'sieur," said the voice of marie, miss guile's french maid. bleak disappointment filled his soul. he had hoped for--but no! he might have known. she would not meet him in this manner. "what has happened?" he cried, grasping the girl's arm. "has she--" "sh! may we not speak in french?" said marie, lowering her voice after a significant look at the motionless cabman. "he may understand english, m'sieur. my mistress has sent me to say to m'sieur that she has changed her mind." "changed her mind," gasped robin. "yes, m'sieur. she will not receive you at the inn of the stars. she bids you drive to the end of this street, where there is a garden with a magyar band, and the most delicious of refreshments to be had under vine-covered--" "a public garden?" exclaimed robin in utter dismay. "pingari's, sir," said hobbs, without thinking. "i know the place well. it is a very quiet, orderly place--i beg pardon!" "so he understands french, eh?" cried marie sharply. "it doesn't matter," cried robin impatiently. "why, in heaven's name, did she select a public eating-house in which to receive me?" "if m'sieur chooses to disregard the wishes of--" began the maid, but he interrupted her. "i am not accustomed to meeting people in public gardens. i--" "nor is my mistress, m'sieur. i assure you it is the first time she has committed an indiscretion of this kind. may i put a flea in m'sieur's ear? the place is quite empty to-night, and besides there is the drive back to the inn with mademoiselle. is not that something, m'sieur?' "by jove!" exclaimed robin. "drive on,--you! but wait! let me take you to the inn, marie. it--" "no! i may not accept m'sieur's thoughtful invitation. bon soir, m'sieur." she was off like a flash. robin leaped nimbly into the cab. "pingari's, driver!" he said, his heart thumping once more. "very good, sir," and they were off at a lively rate, rattling quite gaily over the cobble-stones. pingari's is the jumping-off place. it stands at the sharp corner of an elbow in the mountain, with an almost sheer drop of a thousand feet into the quarries below. a low-roofed, rambling building, once used as a troop-house for nomadic fighting-men who came from all parts of the principality on draft by feudal barons in the days before real law obtained, it was something of a historic place. parts of the structure are said to be no less than five hundred years old, but time and avarice have relegated history to a rather uncertain background, and unless one is pretty well up in the traditions of the town, he may be taken in nicely by shameless attendants who make no distinction between the old and the new so long as it pays them to procrastinate. as a matter of fact, the walls of the ancient troop-house surround what is now considered the kitchen, and one never steps inside of them unless he happens to be connected in a somewhat menial way with the green grocer, the fish-monger, the butcher or the poultry-man. the wonderful vine-covered porches, reeking with signs of decay and tottering with age, are in truth very substantial affairs constructed by an ancestor of the present signor pingari no longer ago than the napoleonic era--which is quite recent as things go in graustark. hobbs drove bravely into the court yard, shouted orders to a couple of hostlers and descended from the box. the magyar band was playing blithely to the scattered occupants of the porches overlooking the precipice. "'ere we are, sir," said he to the prince, as he jerked open the door of the cab. "shall i wait, sir?" "certainly," said robin, climbing out. "i am a long way from home, my good man." he hurried up the steps and cast an eye about the place. there were no ladies unattached. as he was about to start on a tour of investigation, a polite person in brass buttons came up to him. "alone, sir?" he inquired pityingly. "quite," said robin, still peering into the recesses. "then come with me, if you please. i am directed to escort you to one who is also alone. this way, sir." robin followed him through a door, down a narrow hallway, up a flight of stairs and out another door upon a small portico, sheltered by a heavy canvas awning. two men were standing at the railing, looking down upon the impressionistic lights of the sunken city. the prince drew back, his face hardening. "what does this mean, sirrah? you said--" at the sound of his voice the two men turned, stared at him intently for an instant and then deliberately strode past him, entered the door and disappeared. the person in brass buttons followed them. a soft, gurgling laugh fell upon his ears--a laugh of pure delight. he whirled about and faced--one who was no longer alone. she was seated at the solitary little table in the corner; until now it had escaped his notice for the excellent reason that it was outside the path of light from the open doorway, and the faint glow from the adjacent porches did not penetrate the quiet retreat. he sprang toward her with a glad cry, expecting her to rise. she remained seated, her hand extended. this indifference on her part may have been the result of cool premeditation. in any event, it served to check the impulsive ardour of the prince, who, it is to be feared, had lost something in the way of self-restraint. it is certain--absolutely certain--that had she come forward to meet him, she would have found herself imprisoned in a pair of strong, eager arms,--and a crisis precipitated. he had to be content with a warm hand-clasp and a smile of welcome that even the gloom could not hide from his devouring eyes. "my dear, dear bedelia," he murmured. "i had almost given you up. three long days have i waited for you. you--" "i have never broken a promise, rex," she said coolly. "it is you who are to be commended, not i, for you see i was coming to graustark anyway. i should not have been surprised if you had failed me, sir. it is a long way from vienna to this out-of-the-way--" "the most distant spot in the world would not have been too far away to cause an instant's hesitation on my part," said he, dropping into the chair opposite her. "i would go to the end of the world, bedelia." "but your personal affairs--your business," she protested. "can you neglect it so--" "my business is to find happiness," said he. "i should be neglecting it indeed if i failed to pursue the only means of attaining it. you are happiness, bedelia." "what would you sacrifice for happiness?" she asked softly. "all else in the world," he replied steadily. "if i were a king, my realm should go if it stood between me and--you, bedelia." she drew back with a queer little gasp, as if suddenly breathless. "wait--wait just for a moment," she said, with difficulty steadying her voice. "this night may see the end of our adventure, rex. let us think well before we say that it is over. i know, if you do not, that a great deal depends upon what we are to say to each other to-night. you will ask me to be your wife. are you sure that you appreciate all that it means to you and to your future if i should say yes to that dear question?" he looked at her intently. "what do you know, bedelia?" "i know that you are the prince of graustark and that it is ordained that you shall wed one whose station is the equal of your own. you must think well, dear rex, before you ask bedelia guile to be your wife." "you know that i am--" he began, dully, and then burst into a mirthless laugh. "and knowing who i am, why do you not leap at the chance to become the princess of graustark? why not realise an ambition that--" "hush! you see how well i considered when i advised you to think before speaking? you are now saying things that are unworthy of you. you are forgetting that it is my privilege to say no to the am in search of happiness. i too--" he stood up, leaning far over the table, a penetrating look in his eyes. "how long have you known, bedelia?" "since the second day out on the _jupiter_," she replied serenely. he slowly resumed his seat, overwhelmed by the sickening realisation that his bubble had burst. she had known from the beginning. she had played with him. she had defied him! "i know what you are thinking, rex," she said, almost pleadingly. "you are thinking ill of me, and you are unjust. it was as fair for me as it was for you. we played a cautious game. you set about to win my love as you saw fit, my friend, and am i to be condemned if i exercised the same privilege? i was no more deliberate, no more reprehensible than you. am i more guilty of deceit than you?" he gave a great sigh of relief. "you are right," he said. "it is my turn to confess. i have known for many days that you are not bedelia guile. we are quits." she laughed softly. "i rather like bedelia. i think i shall keep it as a good-luck name. we have now arrived at the time for a profound contemplation of the results of our experiments. in the meantime, i have had no dinner. i trust that the prince of graustark has dined so lightly that he will not decline to share my repast with me. it has already been ordered--for two." "by jove, you--you amaze me!" he exclaimed. "please remove that dreadful mackintosh and touch the bell for me. you see, i am a very prosaic person, after all. even in the face of disaster i can have a craving for food and drink. that's better." in a sort of daze, he tapped the little table bell. a waiter appeared on the instant. "give us more light, waiter," was her command, "and serve dinner at once." the lights went up, and robin looked into her soft, smiling eyes. "it doesn't matter," he whispered hoarsely. "i don't care what happens to me, bedelia, i--i shall never give you up. you are worth all the kingdoms in the world. you are the loveliest, most adorable--" "hush! the eyes of your people are upon you. see! even the waiter recognises his prince. he is overcome. ah! he falters with the consomme. it is a perilous moment. there! i knew something would happen, poor fellow. he has spilled--but, all is well; he has his wits again. see! he replenishes from the steaming tureen. we are saved." her mood was so gaily satiric, so inconsequential, that he allowed a wondering, uncertain smile to banish the trouble from his eyes as he leaned back in the chair and studied the vivid, excited face of the girl who had created havoc with his senses. she was dressed as he had seen her on board the _jupiter_ during those delightful days on deck: the same trim figure in a blue serge suit and a limp white hat, drawn well down over her soft brown hair, with the smart red tie and the never-to-be-forgotten scent of a perfume that would linger in his nostrils forever and forever. "do you think it strange that i should have asked you to meet me here in this unconventional way instead of at the inn?" she inquired, suddenly serious. again the shy, pleading expression stole into her eyes. "i did think so, but no longer. i am glad that we are here." "mrs. gaston is inside," she informed him quickly. "i do not come alone. an hour ago the inn became quite impossible as a trysting place. a small party from the regengetz arrived for dinner. can you guess who is giving the dinner? the great and only william w. blithers, sir, who comes to put an obstinate daughter upon the throne of graustark, whether she will or no." "did he see you?" cried robin. "no," she answered, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "i stole out through the back door, and sent marie out with one of the porters to head you off. then i came on here. i didn't even stop to change my gown." "hide and seek is a bully game," said he. "it can't last much longer, bedelia. i think it is only right that we should go to your father and tell him that--everything is all right. it is his due. you've solved your own problem and are satisfied, so why not reveal yourself. there is nothing to be gained by further secrecy." she was watching him closely. "are you, after all is said and done, sure that you want to marry the daughter of william blithers, in the face of all the bitter consequences that may follow such an act? think hard, my dear. she is being forced upon you, in a way. mr. blithers' money is behind her. your people are opposed to the bargain, for that is the way in which they will look upon it. they may act very harshly toward you. the name of blithers is detested in your land. his daughter is reviled. are you sure that you want to marry her, re--robin?" "are you through?" he asked, transfixing her with a determined look. "well, then, i'll answer you. i do want to marry you, and, more than that, i mean to marry you. i love--" "you may tell me, robin, as we are driving back to the inn together--not here, not now," she said softly, the lovelight in her eyes. happiness blurred his vision. he was thrilled by an enchantment so stupefying that the power of speech, almost of thought, was denied him for the time being. he could only sit and stare at her with prophetic love in his eyes, love that bided its time and trembled with anticipation. long afterward, as they were preparing to leave pingari's she said to him: "my father is at the inn, robin. i ran away from him to-night because i wanted to be sure that our adventure was closed before i revealed myself to him. i wanted to be able to say to him that love will find its way, no matter how blind it is, nor how vast the world it has to traverse in search of its own. my father is at the inn. take me to him now, robin, and make the miracle complete." his fingers caressed her warm cheek as he adjusted the collar of the long seacoat about her throat and chin. her eyes were starry bright, her red lips were parted. "my princess!" he whispered tenderly. "my princess!" "my prince," she said so softly that the words barely reached his ears. "we have proved that love is the king. he rules us all. he laughs at locksmiths--and fathers--but he does not laugh at sweethearts. come, i am ready." he handed her into the cab a moment later, and drew the long deep breath of one who goes down into deep water. then he followed after her. the attendant closed the door. "where to, sir?" called hobbs from the driver's seat. he received no answer, yet cracked his whip gaily over the horses' backs and drove out into the slanting rain. hobbs was a dependable fellow. he drove the full length of the street twice, passing the inn of the stars both times at a lively clip, and might have gone on forever in his shuttlecock enterprise, had not the excited voice of a woman hailed him from the sidewalk. "stop! _attendez_! you! man!" he pulled up with a jerk. the dripping figure of marie ran up from behind. "my mistress? where is she?" panted the girl. "in heaven," said hobbs promptly, whereupon marie pounded on the glass window of the cab. robin quickly opened the door. "wha--what is it?" "yes, marie," came in muffled tones from the depths of the cab. "madame gaston returns long ago. she is beside herself. she is like a maniac. she has lost you; she cannot explain to--to mademoiselle's father. mon dieu, when he met her unexpectedly in the hall, he shouts, 'where is my daughter?' and poor madame she has but to shiver and stammer and--run away! _oui_! she dash out into the rain! it is terrible. she--" bedelia broke in upon this jumbled recitation. "where have we been, robin? where are we now?" "where are we, hobbs?" "we are just getting back to the inn of the stars, sir,--descending, you might say, sir," said hobbs. "drive on, confound you." "to the inn, sir?" "certainly!" the door slammed and the final block was covered in so short a time that robin's final kiss was still warm on bedelia's lips when the gallant cab rolled up to the portals of the inn of the stars. "did you ever know such a night, sir?" inquired hobbs, as the prince handed his lady out. he was referring to the weather. chapter xxiv just what might have been expected even the most flamboyant of natures may suffer depression at times, and by the same token arrogance may give way to humility,--or, at the very least, conviction. mr. blithers had had a trying day of it. to begin with, his wife raked him over the coals for what she was pleased to call his senseless persistence in the face of what she regarded as unalterable opposition on the part of the cabinet and house of nobles. it appears that he had experienced a second encounter with the ministry only the day before. after sleeping over the results of his first visit to the council chamber, he awoke to the fact that matters were in such a condition that it behooved him to strike while the iron was hot. so he obtained a second hearing, principally because he had not slept as well over it as he would have liked, and secondarily because he wanted to convince himself that he could parade their ancient halls without feeling as self-conscious as a whipped spaniel. he came off even worse in his second assault upon the ministry, for this time the members openly sneered at his declarations. as for his progress through the enchanted halls he was no end worse off than before. it so happened that he arrived at the castle at the very hour when the ladies and gentlemen of the royal household were preparing to fare forth to the tennis courts. he came upon them, first on the terrace, then in the entrance, and later on was stared at with evident curiosity by white flanneled and duck-skirted persons in the lofty halls. he wished that he was back at blitherwood where simplicity was not so infernally common. he made the mistake of his life when he gave to his wife the details of this second conference with the cabinet. he did it in the hope that a sympathetic response would be forthcoming. to his surprise, she merely pitied him, but in such a disgustingly personal way that he wondered if he could ever forgive her. "can't you appreciate what i am doing for maud?" he argued, almost tearfully. "i can appreciate what you are doing _to_ her," said she, and swept out of the room. "it's bad enough to have one stubborn woman in the family," said he to himself, glaring at the closed door--which had been slammed, by the way,--"but two of 'em--good lord!" and so it was that mr. blithers, feeling in need of cheer, arranged a little dinner for that evening, at the inn of the stars. he first invited his principal london lawyer and his wife--who happened to be _his_ principal--and then sent a more or less peremptory invitation to the president of the bank of graustark, urging him to join the party at the regengetz and motor to the inn. he was to bring his wife and any friends that might be stopping with them at the time. the banker declined. his wife had been dead for twenty years; the only friends he possessed were directors in the bank, and they happened to be having a meeting that night. so mr. blithers invited his secondary london lawyer, his french lawyer and two attractive young women who it appears were related to the latter, although at quite a distance, and then concluded that it was best to speak to his own wife about the little affair. she said she couldn't even think of going. maud might arrive that very night and she certainly was not going out of the hotel with such an event as that in prospect. "but simpson's wife is coming," protested mr. blithers, "and pericault's cousins. certainly you must come. jolly little affair to liven us up a bit. now lou,--" "i am quite positive that lady simpson will change her mind when she hears that pericault's cousins are going," said mrs. blithers acidly. "anything the matter with pericault's cousins?" he demanded, inclined to the bellicose. "ask pericault," she replied briefly. he thought for a moment. "if that's the case, lou, you'll have to come, if only to save my reputation," he said. "i didn't think it of pericault. he seems less like a frenchman than any man i've ever known." mrs. blithers relented. she went to the dinner and so did lady simpson, despite pericault's cousins, and the only ones in the party who appeared to be uneasy were the cousins themselves. it is safe to say that it was not the rain that put a dampener on what otherwise might have been an excessively jovial party. stupendous was the commotion at the inn of the stars when it became known that one of the richest men in the world--and a possible father-in-law apparent to the crown,--was to honour the place with his presence that night. every one, from the manager down to the boy who pared potatoes, laid himself out to make the occasion a memorable one. the millionaire's table was placed in the very centre of the dining-room, and plates were laid for eight. at the last minute, mr. blithers ordered the number increased to nine. "my daughter may put in an appearance," he explained to lady simpson. "i have left word at the hotel for her to come up if by any chance she happens to arrive on the evening train." "haven't you heard from her, mr. blithers?" inquired the austere lady, regarding the top of his head with an illy-directed lorgnon. they were entering the long, low dining-room. mr. blithers resented the scrutiny: it was lofty and yet stooping. she seemed to be looking down upon him at right angles, due no doubt to her superior height and to the fact that she had taken his arm. "we have," said he, "but not definitely. she is likely to pop in on us at any moment, and then again she's likely not to. my daughter is a very uncertain person, lady simpson. i never seem to be able to put my finger upon her." "have you ever tried putting the whole hand upon her?" inquired her ladyship, and mr. blithers stared straight ahead, incapable of replying. he waited until they were seated at the table and then remarked: "i am sorry you got splashed, lady simpson. you'd think they might keep the approach to a place like this free of mud and water." "oh, i daresay the gown can be cleaned, mr. blithers," she said. "i am quite ready to discard it, in any event, so it really doesn't matter." "my dear," said he to his wife, raising his voice so that diners at nearby tables could not help hearing what he said, "i forgot to tell you that we are expected to dine with the prince at the castle." then he wondered if any one in the room understood english. "when?" she inquired. "very shortly," said he, and she was puzzled for a moment by the stony glare he gave her. lord simpson took this opportunity to mention that he had taken reservations for the return of himself and wife to vienna on the next day but one. "we shall catch the orient express on friday and be in london by monday," he said. "our work here is completed. everything is in ship-shape. jenkins will remain, of course, to attend to the minor details, such as going over the securities and--" "don't you like that caviare?" asked mr. blithers with some asperity. "it has a peculiar taste," said lord simpson. "best i've ever tasted," said mr. blithers, spreading a bun thickly. pericault's cousins were fingering the champagne glasses. "we've got sherry coming first," said he. "everything satisfactory, m'sieur blithers?" inquired the _maitre d'hotel_ softly, ingratiatingly, into his left ear. "absolutely," said mr. blithers with precision. "you needn't hurry things. we've got the whole evening ahead of us." lady simpson shivered slightly. the pericault cousins brightened up. there was still a chance that the "dowagers" would retire early from the scene of festivity. "by the way," said simpson, "how long do you purpose remaining in edelweiss, blithers?" for the first time, the capitalist faltered. he was almost ready to admit that his enterprise had failed in one vital respect. the morning's experience in the council chamber had shaken his confidence considerably. "i don't know, simpson," said he. "it is possible that we may leave soon." "before the prince's dinner?" inquired lady simpson, again regarding his bald spot through the lorg-non. "depends on what my daughter has to say when she gets here," said he almost gruffly. "if she wants to stay for a while, we will remain. i don't mind saying that i have a curious longing for wall street. i am at home there and--well, by george, i'm like a fish out of water here." his wife looked up quickly, but did not speak. "i am a business man, lady simpson, not a philanderer. i'd like to take this town by the neck and shake some real enterprise into it, but what can you do when everybody is willing to sit down and let tradition look after 'em? i've put a lot of money into grosstock and i'd like to see the country prosper. still i'm not worried over my investment. it is as good as gold." "perfectly safe," said lord simpson. "absolutely," said the secondary london lawyer. pericault's comment was in french and not intended to be brief, but as mr. blithers was no longer interested, the privilege of completing his remarks was not accorded him. he did say _mon dieu_ under his breath, however, in the middle of his employer's next sentence. "as i said before, everything depends on whether my daughter wants to remain. if she says she wants to stay, that settles the point so far as i am concerned. if she says she doesn't want to stay, we'll--well, that will settle it also. i say, waiter, can't you hurry the fish along?" "certainly, sir. i understood m'sieur to say that there was no hurry--" "well, pour the champagne anyway. i think we need it." two hours later, mr. blithers looked at his watch again. the party was quite gay: at least fifty percent disorderly. "that train has been in for an hour," said the host. "i guess maud didn't come. i left word for the hotel to call me up if she arrived--i say, waiter, has there been a telephone message for me?" "no, m'sieur. we have kept a boy near the telephone all evening, m'sieur. no message." "i also told 'em to send up any telegram that might come," he informed his wife, who merely lifted her eyebrows. they had been lowered perceptibly in consequence of the ebullience of pericault's cousins. the vivacious young women were attracting a great deal of attention to their table. smart diners in the immediate neighbourhood appeared to be a trifle shocked. three dignified looking gentlemen, seated near the door, got up and left the room. "we really must be going," said mrs. blithers nervously, who had been watching the three men for some time with something akin to dismay in her soul. she had the sickening notion that they were members of the cabinet--lords of the realm. "all right," said mr. blithers, "call the cars up, waiter. still raining?" "yes, m'sieur. at this season of the year--" "call the cars. let's have your bill." pericault's cousins were reluctant to go. in fact, they protested shrilly that it was silly to break up such a successful party at such an unseemly hour. "never mind," whispered pericault softly, and winked. "i'll leave 'em in your care, pericault," said mr. blithers grimly. "they are _your_ cousins, you know." "trust me implicitly. monsieur," said pericault, bowing very deeply. then he said good-night to mrs. blithers and lady simpson. the secondary london lawyer did the same. out in the wide, brilliantly lighted foyer, a few late-stayers were waiting for their conveyances to be announced. as the four departing members of the blithers party grouped themselves near the big doors, impatient to be off, a brass-buttoned boy came up and delivered a telegram to the host. he was on the point of tearing open the envelope when his eyes fell upon two people who had just entered the hall from without, a man and woman clad in raincoats. at the same instant the former saw mr. blithers. clutching his companion's arm he directed her attention to the millionaire. "now for it, bedelia," he whispered excitedly. bedelia gazed calmly at mr. blithers and mr. blithers gazed blankly at the prince of graustark. then the great financier bowed very deeply and called out: "good evening, prince!" he received no response to his polite greeting, for the prince was staring at bedelia as if stupefied. the millionaire's face was very red with mortification as he turned it away. "he--he doesn't recognise you," gasped robin in amazement. "who?" she asked, her eyes searching the room with an eager, inquiring look. "your father," he said. she gave him a ravishing, delighted smile. "oh, it is so wonderful, robin. i have fooled you completely. that man isn't my father." "that's mr. blithers or i am as blind as a bat," he exclaimed. "is it, indeed? the one reading the telegram, with his eyes sticking out of his head?" robin's head was swimming. "good heaven, bedelia, what are you--" "ah!" she cried, with a little shriek of joy. "see! there he is!" one of the three distinguished men who had been remarked by mrs. blithers now separated himself from his companions and approached the couple. he was a tall, handsome man of fifty. although his approach was swift and eager, there was in his face the signs of wrath that still struggled against joy. she turned quickly, laid her hand upon the prince's rigid arm, and said softly: "my father is the prince of dawsbergen, dear." * * * * * a crumpled telegram dropped from mr. blithers' palsied hand to the floor as he turned a white, despairing face upon his wife. the brass-buttoned boy picked it up and handed it to mrs. blithers. it was from maud. "we were married in vienna today. after all i think i shall not care to see graustark. channie is a dear. i have promised him that you will take him into the business as a partner. we are at the bristol. "maud." the end scanned images of public domain material from the internet archive. half-past bedtime _by the same author_ the corner of harley street pity the poor blind vagabonds in pÉrigord songs out of school the plain girl's tale [illustration: half-past bedtime] half-past bedtime _by_ h. h. bashford author of "the corner of harley street" etc. _with illustrations by the author_ [illustration] houghton mifflin company boston, new york and chicago to joe & ada maggs and the children that love them when farmer sun with rosy wink says good-bye all, and drives away, when safe in fold the sheep-bells clink, and hard-worked horses munch their hay, when brown and blue eyes sleepy grow, and nurse downstairs clears up the crumbs, when god pulls down his blind, and so what people call the twilight comes, then lazy moon lifts up her arm, shakes back her hair and smooths her beams, and softly over field and farm scatters the milk-white seed of dreams. contents chapter page i. mr jugg ii. gwendolen iii. the little ice-men iv. uncle joe's story v. beardy ned vi. the magic song vii. the imaginary boy viii. the hill that remembered ix. st uncus x. old mother hubbard xi. marian's party xii. the sorrowful picture xiii. the moon-boy's friend xiv. the christmas tree illustrations page half-past bedtime _frontispiece_ marian and mr jugg monkey island cuthbert and doris bella at eden beardy ned's fire the magic song the haunted wood cÆsar's camp doris and st uncus mother hubbard's the little temple porto blanco the lagoon still talking mr jugg [illustration: marian and mr. jugg] i mr jugg the name of the town doesn't really matter; but it was a big town in the middle of the country; and the first of these adventures happened to a little girl whose christian name was marian. she was only seven when it happened to her, so that it was rather a young sort of adventure; but the older ones happened later on, and this is the best, perhaps, to begin with. marian's house was in a street called peter street, because there was a church in it called st peter's church; and some people liked this church, because it had a great spire soaring up into the sky. but marian's daddy didn't like spires, because they were so sharp and so slippery. he liked towers better, because the old church towers, he said, were like little laps, ready to catch god's blessing. but marian's daddy was a queer sort of man, and nobody took much notice of what he said. at the other end of peter street there was a field in which some people were beginning to build houses, and marian used to love going into this field to watch the builders at work. but one afternoon she became tired of watching them, and so she climbed over a gate into the next field. here the grass was so tall that it tickled marian's chin. there were great daisies in it, taller than the grass, and they looked into marian's eyes. they had calm faces like marian's mummy's nurney's face, and they didn't mind a bit when marian picked them. there were also buttercups, shiny and fat, like the man in the butcher's shop who was always smiling. this was such a big field that when marian came to the middle of it the voices of the builders were quite faint, and the tinkle of their trowels on the edges of the bricks sounded like sheep-bells a long way off. when she turned round she could see the roofs of the houses, and the tops of the chimneys, and the spires of the churches all trembly because of the heat, as if they were tired and wanted to lie down. but they couldn't lie down, although they were so much older and bigger and stronger than marian. "i'd rather be me," thought marian, and when she had picked a bundle of flowers she lay down in the deep grass. it was so hot that, when once they had become used to her, the stalks of the grasses stood quite still. she could see hundreds and hundreds of them, like trees in a forest, or people in church waiting for the anthem. up in the hills it was different. there the grasses were always moving--not running about, of course, but standing in the same place and bending to and fro, to and fro. some of them would move, so her father had once told her, as much as four miles in a single day, just as far as it was from marian's house to the top of fairbarrow down. but here in the valley they weren't moving at all. they weren't even whispering. they were holding their breath; and if they were listening to anything, it was to something that a little girl couldn't hear. she stared into the sky, but it was so blue that it made her eyes ache trying to see how blue it was; and when she closed them, to give them a rest, she could see little patterns on her eyelids. then she opened them again, and the green of the grass, as she looked between the grass blades, was cool like an ointment. "and nobody in the world," she thought, "knows where i am." she felt a sort of tickle in the middle of her stomach. "how do you do?" said a voice. marian gave a jump. she saw a little man looking up at her. he was not even as tall as an afternoon tea-table. "what's your name?" he asked. he was very polite. he held his hat in his right hand. marian told him her name. she wasn't a bit frightened. "what's yours?" she asked. "i'm mr jugg," he said. "and who are you, mr jugg?" she inquired. "i'm the king of the bumpies," he replied. when marian was puzzled there came a little straight line, exactly in the middle, between her two eyebrows. "what are bumpies?" she said. "my hat!" he gasped. "haven't you ever heard of bumpies?" marian shook her head. "oh dear, oh dear!" he sighed. "have you ever heard of angels?" "well, of course," said marian. "everybody's heard of angels." "well then, bumpies," said mr jugg, "are baby angels. they're called bumpies till they've learned to fly." "i see," said marian, "but why are they called bumpies?" "because they bump," said mr jugg, "not knowing how." marian laughed. "where do you live?" she asked. "if you'd care to come with me," he said, "i could show you." "oh, i should love to!" said marian. "may i?" he put on his hat and gave her his hand, and helped her to stand up with her bunch of daisies. "come along," he said, and he took her across the field, and through a hole in the hedge into the next one. this was a smaller field with some cows in it, and the grass in it was quite short. he led her across it, and helped her over a gate into the field beyond, where the grass was shorter still. "how old are you?" he asked. "i'm seven," said marian. "that's very young," he replied. "i'm seven million." "good gracious!" said marian. "and how old is mrs jugg?" "she's as old as i am," he said, "but she looks younger." when they came to the middle of this field he stood still and stamped with his foot three and a half times--three big stamps and a little stamp--and then the field suddenly opened. marian saw a hole at her feet with a lot of steps in it going down, down, down. "this is where i live," he said. "you needn't be frightened. it's quite safe. i'll lead the way." he was still holding her hand, and he went down before her, a step at a time, very carefully. "isn't it rather dark?" said marian. "wait till i've shut the door," he said, "and then you'll get a surprise." when both their heads were well below the ground, he tapped twice on the wall; and then the hole was shut so that they couldn't see the sky, and a most wonderful thing happened. they were at the beginning of a long passage, almost a mile long, with a lovely slope in it; and on each side of it there were hundreds of little lights, all of different colours. there were blue lights, and green lights, and yellow lights, and crimson lights, and lights of all sorts of other colours that marian had never seen or even imagined. both the walls and the floor of the passage were quite smooth, and just where they stood there was a little cupboard. "this is where i keep my scooter," he said. "it saves time, and there's lots of room on it for two." he opened the cupboard door and took out a scooter. "now put your hands," he said, "on my shoulders." "oh, what fun!" said marian, and she suddenly noticed that he seemed to have grown taller. she climbed on to the scooter behind him. he gave it a little push and they began to glide down the passage. at first they went quite slowly, because the slope was so gentle. but soon they were going faster and faster; and presently they went so fast that all the coloured lights became two streaks of light, one on each side of them. marian could hardly breathe. "what's going to happen at the end?" she thought. but about half-way along the passage began to go uphill again. the coloured streaks became separate lights. the scooter went slower and slower. at last it stopped just in front of a closed door, and there, in the wall, was another little cupboard. "here we are," said mr jugg, putting the scooter away. "i expect they're all having tea." then he opened the door, and marian almost lost her breath again, for what she saw was a great long room, with lots and lots of little tables in it, and bumpies sitting on chairs round every table. hanging from the ceiling of this room were hundreds of coloured lights just like the lights that she had seen in the passage--blue lights, and green lights, and yellow lights, and crimson lights, and lights of all sorts of other colours of which she didn't even know the name. and there was such a clamour of talking and laughing, and spoon-clinking and plate-clinking, and chair-creaking and table-creaking, that marian could hardly hear what mr jugg was saying, although he was shouting in her ear. "that's my wife," he said. "that's mrs jugg, that lady over there, just coming toward us." marian looked where he was pointing, and saw a stout little lady with a smiling face. she was exactly as tall as mr jugg, but she weighed two and a half pounds more. as for the bumpies, they were of all sorts of sizes, but they all wore the same kind of clothes--little dark green jackets over little dark green vests, little dark green knickers, and little dark green socks. fastened to each jacket were two little hooks, one behind each shoulder--these were for their wings. but they only wore wings when they were having their flying lessons. suddenly they all stopped talking and stared at marian. some of them stood on their chairs in order to see her better. she felt very shy, and began to blush. mrs jugg came and gave her a kiss. "this is marian," said mr jugg. "can you give her some tea?" "why, of course i can," said mrs jugg, giving marian two more kisses. "come with me, my dear. you shall have tea at my table." she introduced marian to all the bumpies. they gave her three cheers, and then went on with their tea, and soon marian was having tea herself--such a tea as she had never had before, not even at her uncle joe's. there was bread and butter with bumpy jam on it and bumpy devonshire cream on the top of the jam, and there was bumpy cake with bumpy cherries in it, and there were bumpy meringues, and there was bumpy honey. "why, it's just like a birthday tea!" said marian. "that's because it is one," said mr jugg. "every tea's a birthday tea down here. there are so many bumpies, you see, that it's always somebody's birthday." "dear me!" said marian; "but isn't that rather a bother--i mean for you and mrs jugg?" mrs jugg gave her another meringue. "there aren't any bothers," she said, "in heaven." "but this isn't heaven," said marian, "is it?" "well, of course it is," said mrs jugg--"part of it." "but it's under the ground," said marian. "well, never mind. heaven's everywhere, only most people don't know it." marian was surprised, but she felt all lovely and shivery. fancy heaven being so near home! what a thing to be able to tell mummy! mrs jugg gave her some more cake. some of the bumpies had finished now, and were getting impatient. presently mr jugg clapped his hands. then they all stood up, and mrs jugg said grace, and then they all rushed toward the door. this wasn't the door by which marian had come in, but a door that opened into another room--a great big room with even more lights in it, and hundreds of swings and all sorts of rocking-horses. in less than a minute there were bumpies upon every one of them, and two of the bumpies took charge of marian. she had a lovely swing and a ride on a rocking-horse, and then they all began to play games. they played ring-a-ring o' roses, and bumpy in the corner, and bumpy hide-and-seek, and angel's buff; and then mr jugg took her into the flying school to see some of the older bumpies fly. this was like a big gymnasium, with lots and lots of pegs in it, and a pair of wings hanging from each peg; and on the floor there were great soft mattresses so that the bumpies shouldn't hurt themselves if they fell down. but the bumpies that marian saw had almost learned to fly. they would soon be proper angels and able to fly anywhere. "and then," said mr jugg, "they'll be going into the upper school to learn history and geography and all about dreams and things." "where's the upper school?" asked marian. "oh, it's all over the place," said mr jugg; "there are ever so many class-rooms, you see. and then they go to college." "and what happens then?" asked marian. "well, then they're able to begin to work. there's always heaps for them to do." "i see," said marian; "and now i really think that i ought to be going home." "perhaps you ought," said mr jugg. he led her back into the playroom, and then into the room where they had all had tea. the tables had been cleared now, but mrs jugg came toward them with a big box of bumpy chocolates. marian took one, and mrs jugg kissed her and told her that she must be sure to come again. "you haven't seen half the place," she said, "nor a quarter of it. there are miles and miles of it. have another chocolate." then marian thanked her and gave her a kiss, and mr jugg opened the door and they went into the passage. when they had come this part of the passage had been uphill, but going back, of course, it was downhill. he opened the cupboard and took out the scooter, and marian stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders. just as before, they began to go quite slowly, but soon they were going as fast as ever. just as before, the coloured lights became two streaks of light, one on each side of them. but marian knew now what was going to happen, and presently the scooter went slower and slower. at last it stopped just at the foot of the steps, and mr jugg put it away in the cupboard. he hit the wall twice, and there, at the top of the steps, marian saw the hole open, and the sky above it. "goodness me!" she said. "how late it is!" the sky was quite dark, and the stars were shining. mr jugg blew his nose. "poor mummy!" she said; "she will be so frightened." "where do you live?" asked mr jugg. marian told him. "i'd better fly you there," he said. "half a tick." he went down the steps again, and opened the little cupboard, and came back with a pair of wings. "now, if you can get on my back," he said, "we'll be home in half a minute." she climbed on to his shoulders, just as if she were going to ride pick-a-back, and then he gave a little jump and they were up in the air. they skimmed across the fields and down peter street just as fast as an express train. at marian's door he put her down. "which is your bedroom window?" he asked. she told him. "now i must be saying good-night," he said. "no, i won't come in. it's against the rules for the king of the bumpies." so he took off his hat and made her a little bow, and before she could wink almost, he had gone. then she knocked at the door, and next moment mummy was hugging her as tight as tight. then daddy came and hugged her too, and cuthbert, who had gone to bed, looked over the landing banisters. "where have you been?" he asked. "why, where _haven't_ i been?" said marian, and then she told them all about it. cuthbert didn't believe her. but cuthbert didn't believe anything. he was nine years old, and was beginning to learn french. but mummy believed her, and daddy believed her; and i'll tell you another thing that happened. late that night, when everybody was asleep, mr jugg flew to marian's window. marian's angel--everybody has a guardian angel--was smoking a quiet cigarette on the sill outside. "hullo!" he said; "fancy seeing you here!" he had once been a bumpy, you see, and mr jugg had taught him to fly. "good evening," said mr jugg; "what do you think of this?" it was a little dream that he had brought for marian. "by george!" said the angel, "that's a beauty." he slipped it very softly under marian's pillow. she must have dreamed it too, for next morning when mummy made her bed it wasn't there. but, alas! the loveliest dreams of all are the ones that we never remember. like the jungle he lives in, tiger wears a dappled skin. foxes on the plains of snow white as their surroundings go. so do fishes lose their sight, buried in the ocean's night, little knowing lovely day lies but half a mile away. for the truth is plain to see, as our haunts are, so are we; and in cities you will find busy blind men just as blind. long ago they lost their eyes under bags of merchandise; and they know not there are still angels on the window-sill. gwendolen [illustration: monkey island] ii gwendolen living in the same town as marian there was a little girl called gwendolen. marian didn't know her very well, though they went to the same school and sometimes smiled at each other in church. her father and mother were always climbing mountains and lecturing about them afterward, so gwendolen had to live with her aunt, who was very rich and wore a lot of rings. in many ways gwendolen was a nice girl, but she had an exceptionally large tummy. some people said that it was her own fault, because she was always sitting about eating marzipan. but some people said that she couldn't help her tummy, and had to eat a lot to keep it full. there were also people who said that her aunt spoiled her, being so greedy herself and always eating buttered toast. gwendolen's aunt had a pale, proud face, deeply lined by indigestion, and she lived in a big house on the right-hand side of bellington square. the colour of this house was a yellowish cream, and it had two pillars in front of the front door. there were eleven steps leading up to it, and there was a boy to open it who wore twelve brass buttons. in the middle of this square there was a sort of garden with tall iron railings all round it, and each of the people living in the square had a key to open the gate of it. it was the tidiest garden in the whole world, and all the flowers in it stood in rows; and the people in the square paid for a gardener to shave the grass every day. one of the reasons why the people in the square were so rich was that they had so few children; and the children that they did have had to be very careful not to make foot-marks on the grass. gwendolen's aunt sometimes went there when she had a headache and wanted to throw it off; and gwendolen went there to eat marzipan and read about princes and princesses. she generally sat on a painted iron seat in front of a flower-bed shaped like a lozenge, and once she was sick behind a bush called _b. stenophylla_ on a tin label. one day she was sitting on this seat when she heard a curious sort of sound. at first it was rather faint, so that she didn't take much notice of it, but gradually it became louder and louder. her aunt was sitting on the same seat wondering which of her medicines to take before dinner, and gwendolen noticed that she began to look annoyed, because the noise was the sound of a harmonium. some people like harmoniums, and have them in their houses, and play hymns on them on sunday afternoons. but this was a harmonium that went on wheels, with a man to push it, and a woman walking beside him. after he had pushed it for a few yards he would sit down and play a tune on it, while the woman walked up and down, looking at people's windows and trying to catch their eye. if she saw anybody she would say "kind lady," or "kind gentleman," as the case might be, and perhaps the kind lady or the kind gentleman would throw her some money, and then she would say "god bless you." but people like that, with travelling harmoniums, weren't allowed to come into bellington square, and gwendolen's aunt said, "dear me, just when i wanted a little peace and quiet!" if there had been anybody near, such as a policeman or a gardener, she would have told him to send the musicians away. but it was very hot, and there was nobody about, and so the people went on playing. gwendolen watched them for a while through the railings, and the butler at number ten gave the woman a sixpence. her aunt was very angry about it when gwendolen told her, for what was the good of making rules, she said, if you encouraged people to break them? the people with the harmonium came a little nearer, and then gwendolen could see what they looked like. the woman was stout, with a hard brown face and rolling eyes like dark-coloured pebbles. when she smiled it was as if she had pinned it on, and as if the smile didn't really belong to her. the man had pale eyes, like those of ferrets in a hutch, and he watched the woman all the time he was playing. gwendolen noticed that there was a long string fastened to one of the handles of the harmonium. she heard a little voice close to her knees. "oh, gwendolen," it said, "save me." gwendolen looked down and saw the unhappiest little face that she had ever seen in her life. it belonged to a small brown monkey wearing a red jacket and a blue sailor hat. he was staring up at her with timid dark eyes. "i heard your aunt speak to you," he said. "so i know your name." he looked over his shoulder at the man and the woman. but the woman was looking at the houses, and the man was watching her. "what's the matter?" said gwendolen. he was holding on to the garden railings. "lift up my jacket," he said, "and you'll see." gwendolen stooped down and lifted up his jacket. there were three great wounds across his back. "oh dear!" she cried; "how did you get those?" "they beat me," he said. "they're always beating me." gwendolen may have been lazy, and she may have been greedy, but she had a soft heart, and the monkey had seen this. "oh, how dreadful!" she said. "but when did you learn to talk?" the monkey shivered a little. "hush, they don't know," he replied. "i've lived with them so long that i've learned their language." "but why don't you run away?" asked gwendolen. "how can i? they keep me on this string and beat me every night." gwendolen thought for a moment. "oh, gwendolen," he said, "do save me if you can!" from where she was kneeling gwendolen could see the woman going up the steps to one of the houses. the man was watching her as usual. gwendolen was half hidden from them by a bush. "but there's my aunt," she said. "i don't know what my aunt would say." "listen," said the monkey. "i could take you to a lovely island." gwendolen frowned a little. "but i don't know," she said, "that my aunt's very fond of islands." "she would be of this," said the monkey. "what's your aunt fondest of?" gwendolen thought for a moment. "buttered toast," she said. "well, it's ever so much nicer," said the monkey, "than buttered toast." gwendolen looked at her aunt and then at the monkey, with his sad eyes and shaking limbs. there wasn't much time. in another minute the man and the woman would be moving on. close beside her, in a little green box, she could see the tops of the handles of the gardener's shears. she took a deep breath. then she made up her mind. "all right," she said. "i'll see what i can do." she crept to the box and took out the shears. the monkey squeezed himself through the railings. with a beating heart gwendolen cut the string, caught up the monkey, and ran to her aunt. her aunt looked up. "why, what have you got here?" she asked. "he belongs to those people," said gwendolen, "with the harmonium." "oh, save me!" said the monkey. "save me!" "look what they've done to him," said gwendolen. she lifted the monkey's jacket. gwendolen's aunt put on her spectacles. "dear me!" she said; "but the monkey talks!" "yes," said gwendolen. "he's been learning for a long time." the monkey clasped his hands and looked into gwendolen's aunt's face. he saw deep down into her, where her good nature was. "if you let me go back to them," he said, "they'll kill me. oh, lady dear, please help me!" gwendolen's aunt was rather disturbed. nothing like this had happened to her before. if she took the monkey away, people would call her a thief. but if she let him go back, perhaps he would be beaten to death. "where do you live?" she asked. "on monkey island; it's the loveliest island in the world." "but how did you come here?" she said. the monkey began to tremble again. "they stole me away," he said, "from my wife and children." "oh, auntie," said gwendolen, "can't we take him back there? he says it's ever so much nicer than buttered toast." her aunt stood up. "oh, bother the buttered toast," she said. "it's his wife and babies that i'm thinking about." then the harmonium suddenly stopped, and they heard the man cry out. "why, where's that monkey?" he said. he began to swear. they saw the woman run down the steps. the monkey gave a little cry and jumped into gwendolen's aunt's arms. then they saw the man and the woman rush toward the railings. both their faces were dark as night. "come on," said gwendolen's aunt. "we'll have to run for it. make for the gate." fortunately, the gate was on the opposite side of the garden, and their own house was opposite the gate. the man and the woman would have to run right round the square. "we ought to beat them," said gwendolen's aunt. oh, how sorry gwendolen was then that her tummy was so large! but she ran as fast as ever she could, and almost kept up with her aunt. the man and the woman had started to run too, shouting aloud at the tops of their voices. "we shan't be safe," said her aunt, "till we've got to the island; because we shall really be thieves till we've taken the monkey home." they dashed across the grass and through the gate, and, just as they were running up their own front steps, they saw the man and the woman coming into sight round the corner of the railings. they had found a policeman, and he was running with them. "luckily the servants are out," said gwendolen's aunt. she was quite excited, and her eyes were shining. gwendolen had never seen her looking so young. as soon as they were safely in the house, she shut the front door and bolted it. "that'll give us another five minutes," she said. "run upstairs and get your hat and overcoat." gwendolen ran upstairs, panting and puffing, and fetched her hat and overcoat and her doll david. meanwhile her aunt ran into the study, opened her cash-box, and took out a hundred pounds. a minute later there came a thunder of knocks and two or three peals of the front-door bell. "we'll get away," said her aunt, "through the back garden." she had packed up a knapsack and slipped into a rain-coat. the knocks were repeated--rat-a-tat-_tat_. they heard angry voices shouting through the letter-box. gwendolen's aunt laughed and shook her fist at them. "come along," she said; "now for the back garden." from the back garden there was a little door leading into a street behind. here there was a cab-stand, and gwendolen's aunt told the cab-driver to drive to the station. "we shall just be in time," she said, "to catch the . train." it was only a horse-cab, but the horse galloped, and they arrived at the station just as the train came in. there was hardly a moment to take their tickets in. but the guard waited for them, and they just managed it. the engine whistled, the porter slammed the door, and the next moment they were off. the monkey, who had been hiding under gwendolen's aunt's coat, poked his head out, and looked about him. fortunately they had the carriage all to themselves. "oh dear!" said gwendolen. "how splendid!" it was an express train, and it didn't stop for an hour, and then gwendolen's aunt thought that they had better get out. "we'll hire a motor-car," she said, "and go to lullington bay and find my old friend captain jeremy. when i was young he wanted to marry me. but i was too proud and wouldn't let him." so they got out and hired a motor-car, and drove at full speed to lullington bay. it was a long drive, and when they arrived at the captain's cottage the stars were shining and the captain was in his garden. deep below them they could see the ocean, dark as bronze and knocking at the shore. captain jeremy was looking through a telescope. a stout little sailing-ship was anchored in the bay. "why, josina," he said--that was gwendolen's aunt's name--"fancy seeing you here after all these years!" he was a sunburnt man with blue eyes, and gwendolen liked him because he looked so kind. they told him what had happened, and he looked very grave. "we must be off at once," he said. "i know that man and woman." "why, who are they?" asked gwendolen. "smugglers," he said. "they're two of the most dangerous people i know. luckily my ship is all ready to sail. we'll put off at once for monkey island." the captain lived alone. he had never been married. so he had only to lock up his cottage and put the key in his pocket. "we ought to get there," he said, "in a couple of months' time if the wind holds fair." it was the first time that gwendolen had been on the sea, and for two or three days she was rather sea-sick. but after that she began to enjoy the voyage and the smell of the spray and the sight of the waves. it was lovely weather, and as they drew near the equator a great yellow moon shone on them all night. it was so hot that she hardly wore any clothes, and used to go barefooted just like the sailors; and she grew so brown and so graceful that she scarcely looked like the same girl. as for her tummy--well, there was no marzipan on board, and she soon began to lose all her love for it. she would ever so much rather be up in the rigging with david her doll and captain jeremy's telescope. one day she suddenly noticed a sort of little cloud on the horizon. but it didn't move, and as the ship drew nearer she saw that the cloud was really an island. she called to the monkey, and he ran up the rigging beside her, and after one look he could hardly contain himself. "that's the island," he cried, "my beautiful island, with my wife on it and my children." presently they came so close that they could see the golden sand and the tall trees with their clusters of fruit; and soon the ship was anchored, and captain jeremy gave orders for a boat to be lowered. captain jeremy himself, with two of his sailors, and gwendolen, and gwendolen's aunt all got into it; and in another five minutes they were standing on dry land again, with the happy monkey dancing beside them. captain jeremy and the sailors stayed by the boat, but gwendolen and her aunt and the monkey began to explore the island. there were flowers everywhere, not planted in rows like the flowers in bellington square, but growing where they liked, and rejoicing in their freedom and praising god with their beautiful colours. some of the trees were smooth, with curious flat leaves and knobbly brown berries that tasted like buttered toast. but gwendolen's aunt had made a resolve to give up eating buttered toast. since she had helped gwendolen to rescue the monkey all her indigestion had disappeared; and she felt as fresh, and looked as pretty, as if she were only half her age. some of the trees were different, with twisted trunks, and pale red blossoms dripping with juice; and this juice tasted like marzipan, but gwendolen had resolved to give up marzipan. but it was a lovelier island than they had ever imagined, and soon the little monkey gave a cry of joy, and the next moment he was hugging in his arms another little monkey that had dashed to meet him. it was his wife, and just behind her there were two smaller monkeys waiting to be kissed; and gwendolen and her aunt could almost have cried to see how happy they all were. for nearly a month they stayed at the island, sleeping on board, but landing every morning; and gwendolen learned to swim almost as well as a fish and to climb trees almost as well as a monkey. but captain jeremy wasn't really happy until a big steamer happened to come by with news that the man and the woman had been drowned in a storm on their way to try and catch gwendolen and her aunt. it was now october, and by the time that they arrived home gwendolen would have been away from school for a term and a half. so they said good-bye to the monkey and his family, and set sail from the island. gwendolen cried a little, and so did her aunt; but on the way home an odd thing happened, for captain jeremy asked her aunt to marry him, and they had to think a lot about the wedding. they decided to get married on christmas day, and when gwendolen's school-friends saw her as a bridesmaid she had grown so tall and straight and happy-looking that they wondered what on earth could possibly have happened to her. "sailor, sailor, what's the song that you sing the whole day long?" and the sailor said to me: "birth's the jetty, time's the sea, "death's the harbour, life's the trip, hope's the pilot, you're the ship." "sailor, sailor, tell me true, what's beyond those waters blue?" but the sailor shook his head; "that's a secret, sir," he said. the little ice-men [illustration: cuthbert and doris] iii the little ice-men marian's daddy was very glad when captain jeremy married gwendolen's aunt, because he and captain jeremy had been boys at school together, and he had always been very fond of him; and he was gladder still when captain jeremy and gwendolen's aunt left bellington square. this they did a week after the wedding, because captain jeremy hated bellington square; and they went to live in an old farmhouse, two miles out of the town. it was a beautiful old house, with a gabled roof and golden-red bricks like a winter sunset; and the hall and passages of it were dark and velvety, and the rooms upstairs smelt of lavender. leading from the road to the front door was a cobbly path, with lawns on each side of it, and big trees standing on the lawns, with low-spreading branches that touched the grass. behind the house was a kitchen-garden full of cucumber-frames and vegetables, and behind that was an orchard, with a gate leading into the fields. these were all hard and crinkly with frost, and the fruit-trees were bare, because it was the second of january, but that made the house seem all the snugger, with its low panelled walls and log fires. when they had been in this house a week, gwendolen's aunt gave a children's party, and marian and cuthbert were asked to go, because their daddy was captain jeremy's friend. marian was very pleased, because she had always liked gwendolen, although she had never known her very well, but cuthbert said that he didn't like her and that he'd rather stay at home. marian told him how much she had improved since her voyage to monkey island, but cuthbert said that he didn't care, and that she was a silly sort of girl anyhow. he was only pretending, however, because just after christmas he had been in hospital having his tonsils out, and he had already missed two or three parties and didn't mean to miss another. so they went to the party, and cuthbert was rather glad, because one of the girls there was a girl called doris, who had been in hospital having her tonsils out just at the same time as he. she was rather a decent girl, ten years old, with dark-coloured eyes and brown hair, and one of her thumbs was double-jointed, and she had been eight times to the seaside. just at present she was a little pale, and so was cuthbert himself; and gwendolen was so brown that, when they stood near her, they looked paler still. captain jeremy came and shook hands with them. "hullo," he said, "what's the matter with you?" "it's their tonsils," said marian. "they've just had them out, and of course they're a little pulled down." captain jeremy examined them thoughtfully. cuthbert liked him, and so did doris. "what you want," he said, "is a trip with me. that would soon set you up again." gwendolen and marian had gone off to play, so cuthbert and doris had him to themselves. "i should like it very much," said cuthbert. "so should i," said doris, "but i'm afraid mummy wouldn't let me go." "i see," said the captain. "well, i'm off next week to port jacobson in the arctic circle. but you wouldn't be able to go to school next term if you came with me, because i shan't be back till the middle of may." cuthbert put his hand up and pinched his throat. "it's still rather sore," he said. "so is mine," said doris. captain jeremy laughed. "well, there's nothing like the arctic circle," he said, "for people who've just had their tonsils out." then he spoke to doris. "let me see," he said: "i know where cuthbert lives, but where do you live?" doris told him that she lived in john street, which was the next street to cuthbert's. her father was dead, and her mummy was rather poor, as she had five other children besides doris. captain jeremy nodded. "then perhaps i shall be able to persuade her," he said, "to let me take you off her hands for a bit." doris danced up and down. "oh, i wish you would!" she cried. "i'd simply love to see the arctic circle!" "so should i," said cuthbert, and they were both so excited that they could hardly eat any tea. when marian heard about it, she wished that she was pale too, and she wished it ever so much more the next morning when captain jeremy called on her father and mother and persuaded them to let cuthbert go. then he went to john street and talked to doris's mother, and he looked so commanding and yet so gentle that doris's mother said she would be very glad to let doris go with him to port jacobson. "of course, it'll be very cold," he said, "and they'll have to wear furs, but we can easily get those when we arrive, and all they'll want for the voyage is plenty of underclothing and their oldest clothes." for a voyage like that, all among the ice, captain jeremy's sailing-ship wasn't quite suitable, so he had hired a little steamer with very thick sides, and a trusty pilot. port jacobson was in a sort of bay just under the shelter of cape fury, and beyond cape fury the coast had hardly been explored, it was all so bare and bleak and rocky. the only people who lived there were a few fishermen, a clergyman called mr smith, and a couple of engineers, who had been there for a year and had just found a coal-mine. it was the engineers who had written to captain jeremy, because they wanted him to bring them some machinery, and also because they wanted him to take back some of the coal that they had already dug up. that was how captain jeremy made his living, fetching and carrying things across the sea. neither cuthbert nor doris was the least bit sea-sick, and they loved to stand on the bridge beside captain jeremy and see the great billows rushing toward the steamer, one after another, in the bright sunshine. sometimes they went below into the dark engine-room, where they had to shout to make themselves heard, and where the pistons of the engines slid to and fro like the arms of boxers that never got tired. how they loved the cabin, too, at meal-times, when the cook rolled in with the steaming dishes, and what meals they ate, in spite of the lurching table and the water slamming against the port-holes! in a couple of days' time they had forgotten all about their tonsils, and two days after that they had almost forgotten their homes, and a week later they saw something in the distance like the grey ghost of a cathedral. it was an iceberg--the first that they had seen; but soon they began to see them every day, sometimes pale, in mournful groups, like broken statues in a cemetery, and sometimes sparkling in the sun as though they were crusted with a million diamonds. one day they came on deck just after breakfast and saw miles and miles of ice, all jumbled together, and three hours later they saw a great cliff, covered with snow, standing out to sea. that was cape fury, and as they drew nearer they could see a little cluster of dark houses, with spires of smoke rising from their chimneys, and that was port jacobson. the pilot was on deck now, shouting all the time, and the steamer was going very slowly, with ice on each side of it, and they could see some men coming toward them, with rough-haired dogs pulling sledges. at last the steamer could get no farther, although it was still about a mile from the town, and they cast out anchors and a long cable that they began to carry toward the shore. it seemed very funny to cuthbert and doris to feel their feet again on something steady, even though this was only the rough surface of the frozen bay in front of the port. the days were so short here that the sun was already low, and the great cape stood dark and menacing, while far inland they could see the peaks of mountains slowly fading against the sky. among the men who had come to meet them were the two engineers and mr smith, and they were very surprised to see cuthbert and doris running about on the ice and trying to make snowballs. then they all set off toward the little town, with the lights shining in its windows, and mr smith said that they must stay with him, because he and mrs smith had no children. captain jeremy was to stay with the two engineers, who had built a little house of their own, but they all came in to supper with the smiths, and cuthbert and doris were allowed to sit up. "to-morrow," said mr smith, "we'll get you some furs, and then you'll be able to go tobogganing with the other children," and cuthbert and doris said "hooray!" because they had learned to toboggan on fairbarrow down. just before they went to bed they saw a wonderful thing, for the whole of the sky began to quiver, and beautiful colours went dancing across it, melting away and then coming back again. these were the northern lights, or the aurora borealis, and cuthbert and doris could have watched them all night. but they soon fell asleep; and most of the next day they were out tobogganing with the other children, and they soon became so good at it that they could go as fast as any of them, and hardly ever had a spill. by the end of the week they had got into the habit of climbing on to the top of cape fury and tobogganing back again, more than a mile and a half, right down to mr smith's house. the first time they climbed up there the slope had looked so steep, and the roofs of the houses so far below them, that they had stood for nearly ten minutes before they could make up their minds to start. but some of the other children had done it, and at last doris had said, "well, come on, cuthbert, we mustn't be afraid," and cuthbert had told her to hold on tight, and so they had pushed off over the frozen snow. by the time they had got half-way, they were going so fast that the air was roaring in their ears, but the track was straight, and they had kept in the middle of it, and ran safely into the town. after that it didn't seem worth while to go tobogganing on any of the lower hills, and that was how it came about that the following wednesday they found themselves as usual on the top of cape fury. it was a still, cold day, and the air was so clear that they could see the coast for miles and miles, and the tops of mountains far inland that they had never seen before. below them in the bay, stuck in the ice, they could see the little steamer, with the sailors on the deck, and beyond the ice a strip of blue water, and beyond that again more ice still. that was on one side of them, and on the other they saw the farther slope of cape fury, slanting down and down and down to the unexplored regions toward the north. it was a gentler slope than the slope toward the town, and suddenly cuthbert had a great idea. "i say," he said, "why shouldn't we toboggan down there? i don't suppose anybody has ever done it." what with the wind and the sun and the snow, the cheeks of both of them were like ripe chestnuts, and doris's eyes began to sparkle as she listened to cuthbert's great idea. when he was at home cuthbert didn't get many ideas, and he generally used to laugh at other people's, so he was very pleased when he got this one and doris said that she thought it ripping. "we won't go too fast," he said, "so that, if we see a precipice or anything, we shall be able to stop ourselves in time." they had a stout little toboggan, just big enough for two, and so they started off down this new slope, with the sun shining and the snow glittering. at first they moved quite slowly, but lower down the side of the hill became steeper, and soon they were going so fast that, even if they had wanted to, they would have found it pretty hard to stop themselves. and then an awful thing happened, for suddenly, just in front of them, they saw a deep cleft in the snow sliding down, at a terrific angle, into a sort of tunnel under the hillside. almost before they could breathe, they had plunged into this, and now there was nothing to do but to hold on. they saw the tunnel's mouth leaping toward them, and the next moment they were in darkness. neither cuthbert nor doris had ever been so frightened before. in the pitchy blackness they could see nothing. they could only feel themselves shooting deeper and deeper into the very heart of the frozen earth. sometimes a bump on the floor of the tunnel would send them careering toward the roof, and then they would come down again with a thud that almost pitched them off the toboggan. every moment they expected to be killed. there came another tremendous bump. and then they felt their toboggan springing through the air and dropping like a stone into some fearful well. they shut their eyes, waiting for death, and then went rolling over and over, with something strange and soft and feathery wrapping them round like a bedroom quilt. for a minute or two they could only gasp, and then cuthbert sat up and called to doris. "hullo, doris!" he said; "are you all right?" "yes, i think so," said doris. "are you?" cuthbert told her that he was; and now that they could look about, they saw that they were on the floor of an immense cave, and that they had pitched down from somewhere near the top of it on to a huge mass of feathers. these were evidently the feathers of thousands and thousands of sea-birds; but who could have plucked them and stored them here so carefully? then they heard a strange sort of coughing and grunting and spluttering, and they saw the oddest of little men. he was about three feet high, with a red beard and a very cheerful sort of face, and he had evidently been asleep in among the feathers, for he was rubbing his eyes and staring at them in astonishment. then they heard some more grunting and coughing, and at last they saw a dozen of these little men standing all round them, dressed in the skins of animals, and with feathers sticking to their beards. they were all looking rather disturbed, but when cuthbert and doris smiled they began to smile too and come toward them. then they began to talk, and, though at first the sounds that they made seemed very queer, cuthbert and doris, rather to their surprise, found that they could understand them perfectly well. that was because the language in which the little men spoke was the oldest language in the world, the father and mother of all the other languages, and so of course the children soon understood it. they also found that in a very little while they could talk in this language themselves, and soon they were all chattering together about what had happened, as if they had known each other all their lives. now that they had become used to the dim light, they could see that this great cave had walls of rock, with long icicles hanging from the roof and the sticking-out pieces of the walls. most of the floor of it was of smooth ice, but in the middle there was a flat rock; and on this rock there was a little fire burning, a little fire made of coal. the leader of the men was a man called marmaduke, and he told the children that they had all been asleep, and that they had lived in this cave for hundreds of thousands of years, and that the great pile of feathers was where they went to bed. "but it's day-time," said cuthbert. "why do you go to bed in day-time?" marmaduke laughed, and so did all the other men. "because at night," he said, "we go out and hunt to get our wolf-and seal-meat, when no one can see us." but they were all so excited at the appearance of cuthbert and doris that they led them to the fire, where they sat and talked to them, and presently they cooked a delicious meal for them of seal-soup and wolf-chops. the coal that they burnt they had found in a deep hole in one corner of the cave, and at the other corner there was a little crack, down which they presently led the children. this opened upon a ledge of ice, five or six feet above the shore, but now they could hardly see anything, because the air was full of snow, driving fiercely into their faces. the little ice-men looked grave. "it's a blizzard," they said, "and very likely it'll go on for a week. but luckily we've got plenty of meat, so that we shan't be in want of food." "but how shall we get back?" said doris. "they won't know where we are, and they'll think that we're both dead." marmaduke shook his head. "i don't exactly know," he replied, "how you'd get back in any case. you could never climb up the way you came, and it's very difficult to get round the coast." "but we'll have to get back somehow," said cuthbert, "because of our relations at home." marmaduke looked puzzled. "what are relations?" he said. "and why should you want to go back?" so cuthbert had to tell them all about his father and mother and his uncle joe and his sister marian; and doris had to tell them all about her mummy and her five little brothers and her aunts and cousins. they were very interested, but it was quite clear that cuthbert and doris couldn't leave that night; and so presently they crept in among the feathers, and were soon very comfy and fast asleep. the next morning it was still snowing, but it was rather fun helping to cook the meals, and the little men showed them some lovely dances that were almost as old as the world itself. for a whole week they had to stay in the cave, with the blizzard raging outside, but one morning when they crept down the crack they found the sky clear and the sun shining. they could now see, towering straight above them, tremendous precipices of rock, and miles of boulders and broken ice, stretching out toward the horizon. "our only hope," said cuthbert, "is that captain jeremy and some of the fishermen will come exploring for us," and just as he said that far in the distance they heard the report of a gun. then a long way off they saw some little figures and a tiny sledge drawn by dogs; and they stood on tiptoe and waved and waved, hoping that captain jeremy might see them through his telescope. the little ice-men never came out by daylight, and when they heard what the children had seen they made them promise on their dying oath not to tell anybody the way to the cave. once before, they said, a learned man had discovered them, and he had tried to measure them with a pair of compasses, so they had had to kill him, as gently as they could, by putting him in the middle of the pile of feathers. then they said good-bye, and all the little men kissed them and sent their love to everybody at home, and cuthbert and doris began to scramble over the ice toward the sledge-party that was now much nearer. when captain jeremy met them, you can guess how pleased he was, because he had made up his mind that they must have been killed; and good mr smith had tears in his eyes, but they were tears of joy. everybody at port jacobson, too, was so pleased that they made a big bonfire to celebrate the occasion, and they all drank the healths of the little ice-men and ate a lot of sweets in their honour. when the children arrived home, however, early in may, and cuthbert told marian all about them, she said at first that she wouldn't believe in them, because cuthbert hadn't believed in mr jugg. but cuthbert had grown wiser and less conceited, and he told marian that he had changed his mind. so marian believed in them, and her daddy was rather pleased, because there were more things under the earth, he said, than most people imagined. not a twig that learned to climb in the babyhood of time, not a bud that broke the air in the days before men were, not a bird that tossed in flight ere the first man walked upright, nor a bee with craftier cell than a roman citadel, but, with all its pride and pain, into dust crept back again. oh, what wisdom there must be hidden in the earth and me! uncle joe's story [illustration: bella at eden] iv uncle joe's story marian's mummy used to read the bible to her, so that she knew all about adam and eve; but she never knew that eve had a little daughter until uncle joe told her this story. next to her mummy and daddy, marian loved uncle joe better than anybody in the whole world. he lived in a little house tucked into a sort of dimple on the side of fairbarrow down, and a man called mr parker lived with him and helped to keep the place tidy. uncle joe had been a soldier in a lot of queer countries a long way off; and when marian and cuthbert asked him what he had fought for, he generally used to tell them that it was for lost causes. in between wars he had done lots of other things, such as trying to find out what caused diseases, or whether plants that grew in some places could be made to grow in others. mr parker had been a soldier too--a soldier of misfortune, he used to say--and he had saved uncle joe's life three times, and uncle joe had saved his life twice. uncle joe's face was yellowish brown, because he had been in the sun so much and had fever; but mr parker's face was red, and one of his eyes was made of glass. mr parker used to call himself a lone, lorn orphan, though he was much fatter than uncle joe, and afterward he used to spit and say that it was rough weather in the baltic. it was about a fortnight after cuthbert and doris had come back from the arctic circle that uncle joe told marian this story, while they were sitting under one of his apple-trees. some of the apple-petals had begun to drop, leaving the tiny, weeny, baby apples behind them, and the only really ripe apples in uncle joe's garden were the two apples in marian's cheeks. "but those aren't real apples," said marian. "well, it all depends," said uncle joe, "on what you mean by real." "you see," said mr parker, who had just come out to mow the lawn, "there's more kinds of apples than a few. there's eating apples and cooking apples and pineapples and crab-apples; and there's oak-apples and adam's apples and the apples what you sees in little girls' cheeks." "kissing apples," said uncle joe. "they're one of the most important kinds." he began to fill his pipe. "and now that i come to think of it," he said, "they're one of the oldest kinds too." "as old as mr jugg," asked marian, "or the little ice-men?" "well," said uncle joe, "i don't know about that. but they're certainly as old as eve's little girl," and then he began to tell marian all about her. "i'm not quite sure," he said, "what her name was. it might have been gretchen or olga, or it might have been seraphine or marie-louise, but i rather think that it was bella. of course you remember what happened in the garden of eden, and how adam and eve had to leave it, not because the good lord god wanted to turn them out, but because he knew that they could never be happy there any more. every hour that they stayed they would have become more and more miserable; and if they had come back it would have broken their hearts, so he had to put two angels to guard the gate. you see, he had wanted them to be sort of grown-up babies in the loveliest nursery ever imagined, and to be able to go there and play games with them whenever he was tired of ruling the universe. but when once they had heard about growing up, and choosing for themselves, and things of that sort, they could never have been babies any more, and it would have been cruel to keep them in the nursery. "of course, they didn't understand that, and they thought it very hard, and very often they used to grumble; and when they had learned to write they used to send him angry letters and say bad things about him in books. that was chiefly because they had to work and learn to look after themselves; but that was the only way, as the good lord god saw, in which they could ever be happy again. 'they weren't content,' he thought, 'just to be my playthings, so now they must learn to be my comrades; and perhaps in the end that'll be the best for everybody, though it'll be a long, long time before they've learnt how.' and then he sighed as he saw the empty nursery and all the animals that they used to play with, just as fathers and mothers sigh now when their babies grow up and have to go to school. so adam and eve had to leave the garden, and just outside it there was a big town, full of houses and factories and chimneys, and men and women who worked all day long. who were those men and women, and where did they come from? well, it's rather hard to explain. you see, adam and eve, through never having grown up, had been in the garden for thousands and thousands of years. but outside the garden there were seas and deserts and thick, hot jungles full of wild animals. some of these animals had looked through the railings and been very struck with adam and eve, and sort of wished in the bottoms of their hearts that they could have children just like them. some of them wished so hard that their next lot of children actually did become a little like them, and their grandchildren became liker still, and at last their great-great-grandchildren became real men and women. of course they weren't garden men and women, like adam and eve; they were just jungle men and women, running wild. "well, after thousands of years these jungle men and women became so clever that they cleared away the jungle, and then they dug fields and planted hedges and sowed corn and built towns; and those were the people that adam and eve found when they left the garden and began to look for work. later on adam and eve's children married the children of the jungle people; so that now all the people in the world are half garden and half jungle." "even clergymen?" asked marian. uncle joe nodded. "yes, and policemen and postmen too." "and lone, lorn orphans," said mr parker, "and the man what comes to mend the bath." "but that's jumping forward," said uncle joe, "a long time, for when adam and eve left the garden they didn't even know what children were, and their hearts were full of bitterness against the good lord god. that was one of the reasons why he thought it would be so nice for them to have a little girl of their own, because then in time they might begin to guess, he thought, something of what he felt toward themselves. "so about a year after they had left the garden little bella was born, and they both thought that she was the loveliest baby that had ever been seen since the world began. poor adam and eve were then living in a dark street on the outskirts of the town, and all that they could afford was one room on the top floor at the back. "adam had got work at one of the factories where they made boots and shoes, but he was only a beginner, of course, and hadn't learnt much, and so his wages were very small. sometimes eve took in a little washing, or got a job from somebody of darning socks, but she did her best to keep their home tidy and some fresh flowers on the mantelpiece. every day, too, she put crumbs on the window-sill, and soon she had made friends with the birds that came and ate them, and sometimes a bird would fly from the garden, and feed from her hand, and tell her the news. both adam and eve, you see, knew the birds' language through having lived with them for so long. but they were never able to teach it to their children, and since they died no one has ever learnt it. "soon after bella was born adam got a rise in wages, but soon after that eve had another baby; and then she had some more, and though they rented another room or two they were always poor and often hungry. but after a while they began to think less often of their old life in the garden of eden, and sometimes they would even wonder whether they would go back there if the good lord god gave them the chance. you see, in spite of their poverty and their hard work and the noise and smells of the great town, they had learnt what it meant to have children, and to bend over their cots and kiss them good-night. "when bella was eight she was rather a fat little girl, with dark eyes and an impudent mouth, and she wore her hair in a long pigtail, and her nose was ever so slightly turned up. adam and eve thought that she was very beautiful, but everybody else thought her quite ordinary, and she spent most of her time in the streets, though she was always punctual for meals. she had lots of friends, most of them boys, but every now and then she would get tired of them all; and those were the times when she would go exploring and generally end up by hurting herself. eve was too busy ever to bother much about what bella did or where she went, and the garden of eden was the only place that she had strictly forbidden her to go near. it was one of the rules, of course, that nobody was to go near it, and there were angels at the gate with swords of flame; and this was a rule, eve thought, that it would be very much worse for one of _her_ children to break than for anybody else. "so she had always told bella never even to go up the street that led into the fields just outside the garden; and if bella hadn't been feeling bored on this particular day--it was just a week after her birthday--and if it hadn't been so hot, and the sun so scorching, and the streets so dusty, and everybody so cross, and if bella hadn't been inquisitive just like her mother used to be, and if she hadn't sort of happened to be walking up that street, and if the fields at the end of it hadn't seemed so cool and so inviting, and if bobby gee, who was a great friend of hers, hadn't dared her to do it--well, there's no saying, but perhaps after all bella wouldn't have stood looking at those dreadful gates. "there was now only a strip of grass between her and the garden, and she could see it stretched there beyond the railings. it was the middle of the afternoon, and so heavy was the sunshine that the leaves of the trees were all pressed down by it. none of them stirred. there was no sound. the lawns beneath them looked like wax. and where were the angels? bella held her breath. there were none to be seen. there were only the sentry-boxes. "very cautiously she took a step or two forward. her bare feet made no noise. the bars of the gate quivered in the heat. then she stopped again and listened. at first she heard nothing, but then, very, very faint, there came to her ears the ghost of a sound. it came and died, and came and died, like the waves of a sea hundreds of miles off. she crept nearer and listened again, and now there were two sounds, rising and falling. they came from the sentry-boxes, one on each side of the gate. the angels inside were fast asleep. bella bit her lip and crept forward. she could feel her heart jumping like a mouse in a cage. the scents of the garden came to meet her. she could see its curved and vanishing pathways. "but what caught her eyes and made them grow round was a bending tree just inside the gate. with her hands on the bars she stood looking at it, and presently her mouth began to water. for from every branch of it there hung such apples as she had never seen in all her life, and from the lowest bough there hung an apple that was the biggest and most beautiful of them all. and then another thing happened, for as she pressed against the bars the great gate began to move. very slowly it swung open, and still the angels were fast asleep. her heart was beating now like two clocks at once--what an apple it would be to eat! a bright-coloured bird hopped across the grass, and stood looking up at her with an inquiring eye. she glanced round about her and over her shoulder, but there was nobody in sight. dared she go in? she thought about the rules, and what her mother had said, and then she remembered bobby gee. the angels were still breathing lightly and regularly. the bright-coloured bird had flown away. "then she took a bold step and went into the garden and tiptoed softly up to the tree. the apple was so ripe that it was nearly ready to drop, and it was just on a level with the tip of her nose. it smelt like honey, and when she touched it it was as cool as marble. then she touched it again, and caught hold of it, and somehow or other it came off the tree. she lifted it to her lips, and it felt like a kiss; and then a voice behind her said-- "'well?' "she jumped round, almost dropping the apple. it was the good lord god who stood looking at her. "'what are you doing?' "she hid the apple behind her, but his eyes shone through her, like light through a window. she hung her head. "'are you eve's little girl?' he asked. "bella nodded. she couldn't say a word. "'i thought you must be,' he said. he put his finger under her chin. there came a sound like the rushing of a great wind. the two angels had heard his voice, and drawn their swords, and leapt into the garden. in another moment, bella thought, they would have killed her. but the good lord god held up his hand. the two angels stood one on each side of him, leaning on their swords and looking rather downcast. bella held out her hand. the good lord god bent forward and took the apple away from her. "'well, what excuse have you,' he said, 'for stealing my apples?' "bella considered for a moment. then she thought of one. "'please, sir, mother did it. she told me so.' "'but you knew the rules,' said the good lord god. "bella hung her head again. she knew them quite well. "'and the rules must be obeyed,' he said. "bella began to tremble. "there was a moment's silence. the two angels stood like statues, still leaning on their swords. then the good lord god spoke again. "'look at me,' he said. "bella lifted her eyes and saw the world without end. he gave her back the apple. "'well, you may keep it,' he went on, 'on condition that you give half of it to bobby gee.' "bella said, 'thank you, sir.' "'but that's not all,' he continued. "he bent forward and touched her cheeks. "'for i hereby ordain,' he said, 'that now and for ever every little girl and every little boy shall wear apples in their cheeks in remembrance of what you have done. they shall be known as the brand of eden--the brand of eden for little thieves--and their parents must see to it, on pain of my displeasure, that they shall never be allowed to fade away.' "then he bent still lower and gave bella a kiss, and the tall angels led her outside the gate; and that's why it is that the apples in little girls' cheeks are almost the oldest kind in the world." uncle joe lit his pipe. from where they were sitting they could see the country for miles and miles. down below them the town looked quite small, and the spire of st peter's church just like a toy spire. far behind it, beyond the level cornlands, the sun was dropping into the evening mists. it grew rosier and rosier, until it almost looked like an apple itself. mr parker winked at marian. "rough weather," he said, "in the baltic." then he spat in his hands and rubbed them together. "well, i must be getting along," he said, "with this here lawn-mowing." eden had an apple-tree, eve a little daughter, tried to do as mother did, but the good lord caught her. "wherefore 'tis ordained," he said, "here and in all places, children shall henceforward wear apples in their faces." beardy ned [illustration: beardy ned's fire] v beardy ned near uncle joe's house there was a small pool which was really the beginning of a river; and this river ran into a bigger one that flowed through the town in which marian and cuthbert lived. the big river was rather muddy, but the little one was nearly always clear, and it was quite easy to paddle across it, though there were some pools in it six feet deep. up in the downs, where it began, it was hardly more than a bubbly trickle, but lower down it grew wider and wider, and ran between the reeds at the edges of the meadows. close to captain jeremy's farmhouse, where it joined the big river that flowed through the town, it ran for almost a quarter of a mile through the middle of a sort of wood. it was under the roots of some of these trees, as they pushed through the water into the soil beneath, that the biggest of the trout had their nests, where fishermen with flies couldn't reach them. but there were some big trout, too, that lived under the meadow banks, and used to put up their noses in the summer evenings, and suck down the flies that fell on the water when they were tired of dancing in the air. cuthbert and marian and doris and gwendolen were all very fond of this river, and when they had finished paddling or bathing in the pools (for they had all learnt to swim) they used to lie on the bank and keep very still and watch the trout having their evening meal. they would see an orange-coloured fly or a blue fly or a fly with pale wings like a distant rain-cloud floating down on the top of the water and probably wondering where it had got to; and then they would hear a little noise like grown-up people make with the tips of their tongues against the roofs of their mouths; and then the fly would be gone, and there would be a tiny wave on the water, shaped like a ring, and growing bigger and bigger. that meant that a trout had been lying in wait, with his eye cocked on the surface of the stream, and had seen the fly, and liked the look of him, and suddenly decided to swallow him up. sometimes a fisherman would come quietly along and kneel down on one knee, and, after he had seen a trout rise, would open a little box and take out a fly like the one that the trout had eaten. but this would be a sham fly, made of feathers and silk, cunningly tied round a sharp hook, and he would thread it on to a piece of gut so thin that they could hardly see it. then he would tie the gut to a sort of string that was hanging down from the point of his fishing-rod; and then he would swish his rod until the fly flew out straight and fell upon the stream, just as the real one had done. sometimes they could see a trout come up and look at this fly and shake his head, and go down again; but once or twice they had seen a big trout rise and swallow it just as if it had been a real one. then the trout had found himself caught, and they had seen the fisherman's rod bent almost double as the trout dashed to and fro; and at last they had seen the fisherman slip a net into the water, and lift the trout on to the bank, all curved and shining. but very often there would be no fishermen at all, and they would see nobody for hours and hours, and hear nothing but the cries of the river-birds and the suck, suck, of the feeding trout. the man that they saw most often was a man called beardy ned, because, though he was only a youngish man, he had a sandy-coloured beard; and they were always very sorry for him, because he had lost his wife in a terrible railway accident soon after he had married her. she had left him with a little girl only ten months old, and that was why ned had let his beard grow. he hadn't time, he said, to look after the little girl and shave his face every day as well. when he had married, ned had been a postman, but after his wife had been killed he had given that up; and he had wandered about ever since, doing all sorts of odd jobs. sometimes he helped the farmers get their hay in, or the gamekeepers trap stoats, and sometimes he would chop wood, and sometimes he would go far away and not come back for weeks and weeks. but wherever he went he would take his little girl, whom he had called liz after her mother; and sooner or later he would always come back to this river, because that was where he had first met his dead wife. he had lived so much in the open air that his skin was as dark as a red indian's, and when he laughed his teeth were like snow, and his eyes like the sea on a sunny day. people like clergymen and large employers often used to tell him that he ought to settle down. but why should he settle down, he asked, so long as there was only liz, and she could sleep in his arms as snug as snug? liz was four years old now, and as brown as her father, and her hair was short and curly like a boy's; and cuthbert and marian and doris and gwendolen loved her almost as much as they loved beardy ned. for beardy ned, in spite of his great trouble, was always full of a secret happiness, and he had made this little song out of his own head that he used to sing every two or three hours: the wickedest girl there was, the wickedest girl there is, the wickedest girl there ever will be is my young daughter liz. he only meant it in fun, of course, and when liz was running about he would shout it at the top of his voice, but when she was sleepy he would only croon it until her eyelids began to drop. of course cuthbert couldn't always be bothered to go up the river with the girls, and on the same evening that uncle joe told marian about the apples he went by himself to have a bathe in a big pool called kingfisher pool. it was still only may, so that the water was cold, but the air above it was warm and still, and he was lying on the bank without anything on, when he suddenly heard a splash and a gurgling cry. he sat bolt upright, and then, looking across the pool, he saw a little form struggling in the deep water, and rolling over in it, head downward, and then beginning to slip out of sight. it was liz, with all her clothes on. she had evidently slipped down the steep bank, and if cuthbert couldn't save her she would be sure to drown, because beardy ned was nowhere in sight. it was so awful to see her that at first cuthbert couldn't move; but a moment later he was in the water and swimming across the pool as fast as he could, and faster than he had ever swum before. he prayed to god that he might be in time. the pool had never looked so wide. but at last he had swum across it and made a grab at a piece of liz's frock just under the surface. he pulled this hard, and tried to go on swimming with his other arm and both legs; and then it was only a second or two before his toes touched the bottom of the river, and he was able to stand up and lift her out of the pool. she was quite pale, and the water was pouring from her mouth, and her eyes were staring as if they couldn't see anything. he scrambled up the bank, grazing his knees, and then she began to choke and take deep breaths. just then, too, beardy ned came crashing through the reeds with great strides, for cuthbert had shouted as loud as he could just before he plunged into the pool. ned's face had turned grey, and there was a look in his eyes that made cuthbert feel almost frightened. but when he saw liz sitting up and crying he gave a shout and caught her in his arms. then he gripped cuthbert by the wrist, and cuthbert could feel that he was shaking all over; and then beardy ned began to cry too, so that cuthbert had to look the other way. but next moment both he and liz were laughing, and cuthbert swam back again to put on his clothes; and then he crossed the river upon a plank lower down, where he found beardy ned and liz waiting for him. beardy ned took him by the shoulder. "come along," he said, "and have supper with us." he was carrying liz, and sticking out of one of his pockets cuthbert could see the tails of a brace of trout; and presently they came to a bend of the stream, where the bank was high and there was a little beach. from the top of the bank a great tree had fallen, with its roots sticking up in the air, and under the trunk there was just room enough for beardy ned and liz to sleep. he had put a couple of blankets there and an old waterproof, and standing on the beach were a cup and kettle; and soon he had made a fire with some dry sticks, and was showing cuthbert how to cook trout. it was beginning to get dark now, and the stars were shining, and the flames of the fire made the river look like ink. but they were so sheltered under the high bank that they might almost have been at home. they had trout for supper, and drank tea, and liz, who was almost asleep, had a cup of milk; and then they ate biscuits, and jam out of a pot, and beardy ned filled his pipe. he had made liz take off her wet clothes, of course, and these were hanging from sticks on either side of the fire, and he had wrapped her in a blanket, and soon she was fast asleep, lying on his knees as he sat and smoked. he seemed to be thinking a lot, but at last he looked at cuthbert. "you've saved my little girl's life," he said, "and i can never pay you back. but i'll show you a secret that no one else in the whole world knows." cuthbert liked secrets, so he was rather pleased. but beardy ned changed the subject. "it was just here," he said, "just where we're sitting, that i first saw my liz--i mean her mother. perhaps, in a manner of speaking, it was where i first saw this one too, but that's neither here nor there. she was just nineteen. she'd been paddling in the stream. i called out to her, and she turned and looked at me. she was in an old frock, but she looked quite the lady. her eyes was dark, and she was smiling." he moved his head a little. "there goes a fox," he said. he sucked his pipe for a moment in silence. the sound of the fire was like somebody talking to them. but the sound of the river was like something talking to itself. then beardy ned felt in his pocket and pulled out the end of a candle. it looked like an ordinary candle, with an ordinary wick, and it was just about an inch long. "this was give me," he said, "by an old feller--james parkins, that was his name--and there's not another like it in the whole world, and there never won't be again." beardy ned held it in the palm of his hand, as though he were weighing it, while he looked at cuthbert. "have you ever wondered," he said, "where candles goes to--where they goes to when they goes out?" "no, i don't think so," said cuthbert. "where _do_ they go to?" liz stirred a little, and beardy ned bent over her. "well, i'll tell you," he said. "they goes into the in-between land--the place as is in between everything you can see. how do i know? because i've been there. because james parkins showed me how." "that's very interesting," said cuthbert politely, but beardy ned didn't seem to hear. "the trouble is, you see," beardy ned continued, "that candles, when they goes out, can't take people with them. but james parkins, he'd found a candle that could take a person with it, and this is the candle. when he first gave it me, two year ago, it was about eight inches long. but i've used it a lot, and after you've blowed it out, and it's taken you with it, it goes on burning. when you come back, it's an inch shorter--an inch shorter every time. and this here bit is the last bit as'll ever take anyone to in-between land." he gave it to cuthbert. "do you want to go there?" he said. "you've saved my little girl's life, and you've only to say the word." "but it's the last bit," said cuthbert. "never mind. i know what's there. that's the chief thing." "is it quite safe?" asked cuthbert. "it seems rather queer." "i'll tell you what it's like," said beardy ned. "it's like a dream. or rather it's not like a dream so much as waking up from a dream. you sees the trees and things, all kind of misty, and the houses in the towns, and the people in the houses. and you sees 'em quarrelling and the like, and grieving, and you wants to tell 'em as it's only a dream. you wants to tell 'em they're just going to wake up. that's what it seems like in in-between land." liz stirred again, and he shifted her on his knees a little. "you see, in a manner of speaking," he went on, "there ain't no time there, not as we reckons time. but once you've been there--well, you'll see for yourself if you'd like to go." cuthbert held out the candle. "yes, i'd like to," he said. "it would be rather exciting." beardy ned bent forward and took a stick from the fire. he lit the end of the candle between cuthbert's fingers. "now blow it out," he said, "and you'll go out with it. it'll be all right. you'll be back in a tick." cuthbert's hand was shaking a little, but he blew out the candle, and then, for a moment, he saw nothing at all. but he felt something. he felt as if he'd been asleep for ever and ever and had suddenly opened his eyes. he felt as if he could do anything, he was so strong. he felt as if he could jump over the highest star. toothache, and school, and taking medicine--they all seemed too stupid even to bother about. he felt like a prisoner just set free. he knew that he was really free, and that nothing could ever hurt him. then he began to see things--the fire of sticks, the stream beyond, and the dusky meadows. but they looked just like dream-sticks, and a dream-fire, and there were real things beyond them whose names he didn't know. then he looked round and saw beardy ned with little liz upon his knees; and it was just then that he saw something else that was perhaps the most wonderful thing of all. for beside beardy ned stood a girl of nineteen, who had been paddling in the stream. she was in an old frock, but she looked quite the lady, and her eyes were dark, and she was smiling. then she was gone. the candle had burnt away. cuthbert was back again in the ordinary world. he saw beardy ned looking at him gravely. "now you know," he said, "why i'm happy." cuthbert rose to his feet. "i must be going home," he said. "they'll be wondering where i've been." beardy ned nodded. "well, good night," he said. "good night," said cuthbert. he climbed the bank. but on the top of the bank he turned round for a moment and looked down again at beardy ned. he was still sitting there with liz on his knees, and cuthbert saw him stoop and give her a kiss. then he began to sing very softly the queer song that he had made up: the wickedest girl there was, the wickedest girl there is, the wickedest girl there ever will be is my young daughter liz. in between the things we know, touch and handle, taste and see, lies the land where lovers go at their life's end quietly. there, in that untroubled place, there, with eyes amused, they scan, cradled still in time and space, this, the infant world of man. the magic song [illustration: the magic song] vi the magic song about a month after cuthbert had been lucky enough to save beardy ned's little girl, the weather grew so hot that all the people in the town became rather discontented. it is always easier for people in towns to become discontented than it is for other people, because instead of fields to walk on they have only pavements; and instead of hills to look at they have only chimneys; and instead of bean-flowers to smell they have only dust-bins and the stale air that trickles down the streets. so the men in the ironworks were discontented because they thought that the men who owned the ironworks didn't give them enough money; and the men in the cotton-mills were discontented because they thought that the men who owned the cotton-mills made them work too hard; and the girls in mr joseph's refreshment shops thought him a cruel old beast; and the policemen thought that nobody loved them. also, the men who owned the ironworks thought that their men were greedy; and the men who owned the cotton-mills were afraid of becoming poor; and mr joseph was feeling depressed; and the policemen still thought that nobody loved them. even dear miss plum, the head of the school, had a frown on her forehead, and the french mistress slapped doris so hard that she left a red mark on doris's cheek. of course doris was very angry about it, and her little brothers wanted to know exactly where the mark was. but it had faded away by the time she arrived home, and her mother only said that it had probably served her right. doris was rather fond, you see, of cheeking the french mistress, and asking her silly questions to make the other girls laugh; and since she had had her hair bobbed the week before, she was even cheekier than usual. doris, as you may remember, lived in john street, which was the next street to peter street, where marian and cuthbert lived. but the houses in it were smaller than the houses in peter street, and most of the people in them were rather poor. doris's mother was poor, because doris's daddy was dead, and doris had five little brothers--teddy and george, who were the twins, and jimmy and jocko and christopher mark. they were much too poor to be able to have a maid, and so doris's mother had to do most of the work. she had to be cook and housemaid and nurse and governess and mummy darling all in one. now that doris was ten she was able to help her mother sometimes, and she used to take christopher mark out in his push-cart; and since she had been to the arctic circle with cuthbert and captain jeremy her mother had begun to lean upon her a little more. but oh, it was hot! the people in the streets lagged along with pale faces. they talked about the trouble in the ironworks, and the trouble in the cotton-mills, and what would mr joseph do if his girls went on strike, and didn't the policemen look ill-tempered? and miss plum couldn't make her accounts come right; and the french mistress went home to her boarding-house; and there she told everybody that she was going to be ill, and that the ham was tepid and the milk-pudding sour. even in john street it was almost as bad, though it was a quiet street with a field at the other end of it. for the sun poured right into it, so that there wasn't any shade, and the stones of the pavement shone like martyrs, and the drains at number fifteen were out of order, and there was half a haddock lying in the middle of the road. so doris went into the garden when they had all finished tea, but it was as hot in the garden as it was anywhere else; and the lady next door was grumbling to the lady beyond about one of her husband's collars that had been spoilt in the wash. doris played about a bit and made jocko cry, because he was silly and wanted to read a book; and then she went round to peter street to see cuthbert and marian, and found that they had gone into the country to see their uncle joe. so she came back and teased the twins, and at last it was time to go to bed; and it was almost as hot after the sun had gone down as it had been in the middle of the day. she slept in the same room with jimmy and jocko, and they all turned and twisted and kicked off their bedclothes; and as the daylight faded the moonlight grew, so that it was past ten before they fell asleep. that was when their mother came and kissed them, and she was so tired that she could hardly stand; and then she went to bed and fell asleep too, and the church clock struck eleven times. happy was beardy ned then, sleeping by the stream, with little liz and his beautiful secret; and happy was gwendolen in her farmhouse bedroom smelling of lavender and last year's apples. but sorrowful and sticky were the people of the town, and troubled were their slumbers. then doris sat up suddenly, for out in the street was the biggest din that she had ever heard. she jumped from her bed and ran to the window, and there she saw nine of the strangest-looking people. there was a big sailor with a concertina, and a stout lady with a tambourine, and a soldier with a pair of cymbals, and an elderly greengrocer, who was very thin. they were standing in a row, and sitting on the ground behind them were five men, each with a drum. doris leaned out, and when they saw her they all sang louder than ever; but the funny thing was that nobody else in the whole street seemed to hear them. the blinds were all down, the moonlight lay on the road, and there wasn't a head at anybody's window. when doris first listened they had been singing about the lady, but now they began to sing about the sailor, and the sailor stepped forward, playing his concertina, and singing the loudest of them all. he had a tenor voice with a great smack in it, like the smack of a wave against a jetty, and when he sang softly without taking a breath it was like water running through seaweed. the soldier sang bass, like a motor-lorry in a hurry to get home over a rough road, and the stout lady sang soprano, and the elderly greengrocer only squeaked. this is what they sang: here's a sailor come home from the guineas, his face is as black as a leaf, his eyes are like forests of darkness, his heart is a hotbed of grief, his arms are like roots of the jungle, he has ladies tattooed on his skin, and his clothes smell of cinnamon--cardamom--tar. oh, mother, must i let him in? bang! bang! [went the drums], oh, mother, must i let him in? then there was a chorus and the queerest sort of dance, and it all seemed somehow to be just wrong; and when they stopped and looked up at her window doris really didn't know what to make of them. then the sailor coughed, and scratched the back of his head, and said, "beg pardon, miss, but are you ten years old?" doris said that she was. "and have you five brothers younger than yourself?" doris said that she had. "and have you five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot?" doris laughed and said that they could come and count them if they didn't believe her word. they looked at one another with a peculiar expression, while the five drummers stared at the ground; and then the stout lady asked her if she would come downstairs and let them count her eyelashes. "why do you want to count my eyelashes?" asked doris. "it's most important," said the greengrocer. "if you'll come downstairs," said the soldier, "we shall be most happy to tell you why." doris pulled her head in and glanced round the bedroom. jimmy and jocko were still fast asleep. she put on her dressing-gown, but not her slippers, in case they should want to count her toes. then she opened the door and ran softly downstairs, and drew back the bolts, and went into the street. "wouldn't it be better," said the stout lady, "if we went to a quieter place?" "well, there's a field," said doris, "at the end of the street. of course, we might go along there." "you're sure you're not frightened?" asked the sailor. the five drummers still stared at the ground. "not very much," said doris. "you aren't going to hurt me, are you?" "god forbid!" said the elderly greengrocer. so they went up the street to the field at the end, and there they all crouched under the hedge; and the sailor, whose name was lancelot, did most of the talking, because he was the biggest. "you see, we've all lost something," he said, "so we went to see an old man as lives in the middle of brazil. he's the wisest old geezer as ever lived, and we all of us told him what we had lost. this here lady has lost her husband and has been trying to find him for years and years; and this here soldier has lost his character and can't find a general to give him a job; and this here greengrocer has lost his appetite and is getting thinner and thinner; and as for me, i've lost my temper and can't find a ship to sail in." "that's very sad," said doris. "and what have these drummers lost?" "their senses," said lancelot. "each of these here drummers has been and lost one of his senses. the first can't see, and the second can't hear, and the third can't smell, and the fourth can't taste, and the fifth can't feel." "i see," said doris. "and what did the old man tell you?" "well," said lancelot, "that's just what i'm coming to. he told us he'd thought of a magic song. there was four verses to it, and the words didn't matter, he said, so long as they was each sung by somebody as had lost something. after each verse there was a chorus, and in between the verses there was a dance. when we'd told him our troubles, he made up some words for us, and then he lent us these here drummers. but what you've got to find, he said, is a little girl as can play this here flute, for until you've found her you can sing as loud as you like, but you won't sing right, and nobody won't hear you. but when you've found her--that's what the old man said--she'll be able to blow this here flute, for this here flute can play by itself if you find the right little girl to blow it. well, of course we was interested, so we asked him to go on, and he said that it would play for just about an hour, and by the end of that time, he said, it would have settled all our troubles and all the troubles of the people as heard it. only, first of all, he said, you must find the right little girl, and the time must be midnight, and the moon must be full." "dear me!" said doris, "that sounds rather odd." "that's what _we_ thought," said the stout lady. "well," said lancelot, "naturally we asked him where this here girl was to be found. but he shook his head, and he said as he didn't know, and that all we could do was to go and look for her. you must travel about, he said, and sing this here music, but the only people as'll be able to hear you will be little girls twice five years old, with five brothers younger than theirselves, and with five fingers on each hand, and five toes on each foot. and of them, he says, the only little girl as'll be able to play this here flute must have a hundred and five eyelashes on her right upper eyelid." he felt in his pocket and pulled out a magnifying glass. "so that's why we want to count your eyelashes." they looked at her anxiously, all except the drummers, and they were still looking at the ground. "all right," said doris, "count away. i'm sure i don't know how many i've got." she closed her eyes, and they stared through the magnifying glass, and began to count her right upper eyelashes. she became quite excited as they went on. "a hundred and three," they said, "a hundred and four, a hundred and five," and then they gave a great shout. "you're the one," they cried, "you're the very one! you've exactly a hundred and five!" she opened her eyes again and saw them dancing about. "where's the flute?" she asked. the soldier gave it to her. "and the moon's full," said the greengrocer, "and it's a quarter to twelve. perhaps we shall soon find my appetite." "and my character," said the soldier. "and my husband," said the stout lady. "and my temper," said lancelot. but the drummers had lost hope, and still stared at the ground. "now," said lancelot, "we'd better go to the market-place. this here little girl will show us the way. and when the clocks have struck twelve we'll sing our song and see what happens." so they went to the market-place, where the town hall was, and where all the tram-lines criss-crossed; and the policeman on duty outside the bank stared at them sleepily, but didn't say anything. there were also two dustmen with a cart clearing up rubbish and bits of newspaper, and a water-man watering the asphalt, and some postmen outside the post office loading a mail-van. then the deep bell in the old abbey tower began to toll the hour of midnight, and the moon looked down on them with her silver face, and they stood in a row and began their song. doris's hands were shaky, as you can imagine, when she lifted the flute to her lips. but when she began to blow, the flute began to play; and oh, the difference it made to the song! for it was now a song with the maddest and sweetest and most beguiling melody that anybody in the world had ever imagined, or ever imagined that anybody could imagine. it began very softly, like a boy whistling, and the cracking of sticks in a deep wood, and then it sounded like birds singing, and water falling, and ripe fruit dropping from trees. then it grew louder, until it sounded like thunder and sea-waves shattering on the beach; and then it grew softer again, like leaves rustling, and crickets chirping in the grass. before the stout lady had sung half the first verse, doris could hardly stand still enough to play the flute. she could scarcely believe that it was possible for anybody in the world to feel so happy. she saw the policeman running toward them, and the postmen, and the man from the water-cart; and she saw the windows above the shops in the market-place thrown up, and people looking out. then came the chorus, like the pealing of great bells, and the policeman and the postmen began to join in, and people in their nightdresses and pyjamas came running out of their front doors, singing at the tops of their voices. before the chorus was over there were nearly a hundred people singing and shouting and beating time, and the cymbals were clashing, and the concertina was groaning, and the five drummers were hitting like mad. but it was the flute, it was doris's flute, that soared up and up and led the whole music; and when the dance came, it was the magic of doris's flute that stole into the feet of all who heard it. most of them were bare feet, like doris's own, but some were in slippers and some in boots, and soon they were all whirling and twisting and hopping, as the people that they belonged to danced and sang. the news had spread abroad now, and by the end of the second verse the whole of the market-place was simply crammed, and by the end of the third verse all the streets that led into it were bubbling over with people dancing. there were the ironworks men dancing with their employers, and mr joseph dancing with his girls, and the heads of the cotton-mills dancing in their pyjamas, arm-in-arm with the people that worked for them. and there was the french mistress dancing with the two dustmen, and there was miss plum dancing with the chimney-sweep, and there was the policeman trying to dance with everybody, and everybody trying to dance with him. then a little man with a carroty moustache pushed through the crowd and caught hold of the stout lady; and she nearly dropped her tambourine, because he was her long-lost husband. as for the greengrocer, he became so hungry that he danced into one of mr joseph's shops, and mr joseph gave him permission to eat everything that he could see. funnily enough, too, both uncle joe and captain jeremy happened to be in town; and when uncle joe caught sight of the soldier he was so struck with his honest appearance that he gave him the names of three or four generals who would be only too glad to have him in their armies. it was the same, too, with lancelot, for when captain jeremy spoke to him his face became so gentle that captain jeremy resolved at once to give him a job as bosun's mate. then the french mistress came and kissed doris, and then everybody cheered everybody else; and the five drummers shouted with joy, because each of them had found the sense that he had lost. the blind one could see; and the deaf one could hear; and the one that couldn't feel felt somebody squeezing him; and the one that couldn't smell suddenly smelt somebody's tooth powder; and the one that couldn't taste had the biggest surprise of all. for one of mr joseph's girls gave him a box of chocolates, and it was the loveliest thing that had ever happened to him; and after that, when she gave him some almond rock, he asked her if she would marry him, and she said that she would. for a whole hour doris played her flute, and then it stopped, and everybody looked at everybody else; and everybody else looked so queer and funny that everybody began to shout with laughter. even the moon laughed, and the end of it was that they all resolved to make up their quarrels, because after what had happened it seemed so silly to go on quarrelling about anything. but what the tune of the song was no one remembered; and next morning when doris took the flute to school, none of the girls could make it play anything, not even gwendolen, who had a flute at home. "_h'shh_," said the man in the moon, full-faced and white, and i listened, i listened so hard that i heard through the night, faint through a crack in the ice of the whiteness, i heard somebody whisper my name with a magical word. and the moon and the stars and the sky, and the roofs of the street, fell in fragments of darkness and silver that danced at my feet. and we danced, and we danced, and we danced, and oh! tired was i when, full-faced and white, the cold moon shone again in the sky. the imaginary boy [illustration: the haunted wood] vii the imaginary boy soon after doris's adventure with the flute, marian and gwendolen made a most solemn vow. marian pricked her finger with a needle and made a tiny drop of blood come, and then she rubbed it into the palm of gwendolen's hand and promised to be faithful to her for ever. then gwendolen pricked her own finger and rubbed it into the palm of marian's hand, and took her dying oath that marian should always be her greatest friend. then they washed their hands under the nursery tap and cleaned the needle and put it back in the workbox, and marian was very pleased, and so was gwendolen, and when they told cuthbert he said that he didn't mind much. marian was pleased, because she knew that gwendolen would ask her to tea pretty often at the old farmhouse; and gwendolen was pleased, because that was the first time that she had ever had a greatest friend; and cuthbert didn't mind much, because he had gone to a new school, where there was a boy called edward goldsmith, who was wonderfully strong, and could dive into the water backward from the top diving-board at the town baths. he was going to be a barrister like mr jenkins, who took the plate round at st peter's church, and after that he was going to be lord chief justice, like the great lord barrington at fairbarrow park. gwendolen's aunt was pleased too, and so was captain jeremy when gwendolen told him, and so were her father and mother, who were climbing the himalaya mountains and writing a book called _two above the snowline_. but gwendolen didn't know, of course, about her father and mother being glad till she got a letter from them; and by then she had become quite used to having marian for her greatest friend. this letter came during the first week of the holidays, while marian was staying for a few days with gwendolen. both gwendolen's aunt and captain jeremy were away on a short voyage, and marian and gwendolen had the house to themselves, except for mrs robertson, the cook, amy and agnes, the two maids, and percy, the boot-and-garden boy. percy was the boy that used to open the door when gwendolen's aunt lived in bellington square, and his father was a gamekeeper, called mr williams, who worked for lord barrington at fairbarrow park. percy was sixteen, and was going to marry agnes as soon as he had saved enough money, and though he was rather proud, marian and gwendolen liked him, but not so much as they liked his father. they liked mr williams, because he knew all about rabbits, and used to take them through places marked private; and they liked mrs williams, because she gave them peppermints and never minded how many questions they asked. mr williams was tall, with a grey moustache, and his clothes smelt of tobacco, and he wore gaiters; and mrs williams was short, and her arms smelt of soap, and she was always popping upstairs to change her apron. they lived in a little cottage near the park gates, and they had six children besides percy, but mr williams was nearly always out, setting traps or counting the young partridges. fairbarrow park was about three miles round, and was half-way to fairbarrow down; and in the middle of it was lord barrington's house, with its thirty bedrooms and all its gardens. there was an italian garden and a dutch garden and a rose-garden and a water-garden; and there were lawns as smooth as a ballroom floor, over which the peacocks cried and strutted. but besides all these, and the park in which they nestled, most of the country round belonged to lord barrington; and it was in the woods and fields which he let to different farmers that the pheasants and partridges made their homes. when they had finished reading gwendolen's letter, which came just after their middle-day dinner, marian and gwendolen thought that they would go and see mr williams, and watch the young partridges that he was bringing up by hand. so they set off, and presently they found him just at the farther edge of lord barrington's estate, where there was a little wood climbing up the side of fairbarrow down. there was a sort of grassy hollow near the wood, and here mr williams had placed half a dozen hen-coops; and in front of these he had built a little mound, made of lumps of turf dug from the down. in among these lumps of turf there were thousands of ants and several ants' nests full of eggs; and a score of young partridges were scrambling over them, finding their afternoon meal. usually mr williams was glad to see the girls, and to let them play with the young partridges, but this afternoon he only nodded to them and went on smoking in silence. they were a little surprised, because it was such a lovely afternoon, with the sky bluer than any ocean, and the fields all glittering with the leaves of the root crops, or hidden away under the golden wheat. here and there the reapers were already at work cutting the first of the oats and barley, and about a mile away they could see the chimneys of the great house shining in groups between the tree-tops. the only dark spot was the thick and tangled pinewood, known as the haunted wood, into which lord barrington never allowed anybody besides himself to go. it was inside the park, and round two sides of it ran the park wall, with sharp iron spikes on the top; and round the other two sides there was a barbed-wire fence, with a small gate in it, heavily padlocked. for twenty years it had never been touched. when a tree fell over, it lay where it had fallen; between the trunks of the trees there had grown a jungle of undergrowth; and only lord barrington had the key of the gate. mr williams was still sitting down, staring moodily in front of him, when marian asked him what was the matter, and was he angry with them for coming? "no, no, it's not that," he said, "but i've just got the push. his lordship has given me a month's notice. i'm got to quit and find a new job, after forty-two years here, man and boy." marian and gwendolen stared at him in astonishment. "why, whatever have you been doing?" gwendolen asked. he took his pipe from his mouth and pointed to the haunted wood. "see that wood there," he said, "the haunted wood? well, last night one of these here dogs, he bolted into it, and i couldn't get him out, so i went in to hunt for him. i was only in there for about five minutes, but just as i was coming out i met his lordship. he stared at me as if i was a criminal in the dock, and give me a month's notice to leave his service. "'you know my rules,' he says, 'and you've broken them. it's no good arguing,' he says, 'you've got to go.'" marian and gwendolen felt very angry, angrier than they had ever felt before. "what a beast!" they said. "but p'raps he'll think better of it." mr williams shook his head. "not he," he said. "i've seen him this morning. 'i'll give you a pension,' he says, 'and i'll give you a good character. but that wood's forbidden ground,' he says, 'and i'll have nobody going into it.'" mr williams rose and began to collect the young partridges, and put them away into the various hen-coops. "well, i must be getting along," he said, "and next month you'll have to make friends with a new keeper." after he had gone, marian and gwendolen sat thinking of all the good times that they had had with him, and of poor mrs williams, who would have to turn out of her cottage--the gay little cottage that she was so proud of. their cheeks were quite red, and there was a hot sort of prickly feeling at the backs of their noses, and they felt as if they would like to go to the great house and shoot lord barrington dead. "dog in the manger," said gwendolen, "that's what he is, with that great big house and no wife or children. and he's always going into his old wood himself. i know he is, because percy told me." "yes, i know," said marian, "and half his time he never lives at the park at all. he's judging people and sending them to prison, or travelling about and enjoying himself." "p'raps he doesn't know," said gwendolen, "what a nice man mr williams really is." then she suddenly thought of something. "suppose we go and find him," she said, "and ask him to let mr williams off." marian was a little frightened. she had never seen lord barrington, but she had once seen his picture in a magazine; and she remembered the grim look of his eyes and his high-bridged, hawk-like nose. but the thought of mr williams and his sad face soon gave her fresh courage; and as they drew near the park wall she was much too excited to feel afraid. gwendolen was excited too, but they both knew how important it was to keep cool; and before they climbed the wall they looked carefully round to see that nobody was watching them. then they found a couple of niches to put their toes in, and they hoisted themselves up till they could see over the wall; and there they stopped for a moment, holding on to the spikes, and studying the lie of the land. just to their right was the corner of the haunted wood, but spreading in front of them was the open park-land, with its great trees casting their blue shadows, and the delicate-limbed deer nibbling the grass tips. beyond these were the gardens, and the broad terrace in front of the house; and the only person in sight was a distant gardener with a watering-can. then they almost fell down, for round the corner of the wood came the tall figure of lord barrington himself. marian recognized him at once, though he was not wearing a wig as he had been in the magazine picture, and was dressed in a grey flannel suit, carefully pressed, and russet-brown boots. luckily he didn't see them, and they crouched behind the wall, holding on to the edge with their finger-tips; and when they next peeped over they could see him unlocking the padlock of the little gate that led into the wood. he went inside and locked it again behind him, and they saw him begin to push his way between the branches of the trees. "come along," whispered gwendolen, "let's follow him"; so they climbed over the wall and dropped into the park. then they ran across the grass to the little gate, where they stooped down for a moment and listened. they could hear lord barrington still moving through the wood. and then very quietly they squeezed through the fence. they both tore their frocks on the barbed wire, and marian scratched her arm, but she didn't mind. and then they began to glide, as softly as possible, deeper and deeper into the forbidden wood. soon it was so dark, owing to the thick-spreading branches and the overgrown weeds and bushes, that they found themselves creeping through a sort of twilight, smelling of pine-resin and crushed herbage. but always, just in front of them, they could hear lord barrington's footsteps, and sometimes they caught a glimpse of his side or back. tripping over roots, and stung by nettles, they followed in the track that he had beaten down; and presently the brushwood began to grow thinner and the trunks of the trees farther apart. he was walking more quickly now, and in another three or four minutes they saw him come out into a sort of clearing, where the ground was smooth, with a thin growth of grass, and the sun pouring down upon it as upon a little circus. here he stopped, and they bent down, each behind the trunk of a great pine tree; and then, to their surprise, they saw him take his coat off and fold it carefully and put it on the ground. then from under a bush he drew out three wickets, and set them up on the other side of the clearing, and put the bails on them, and laid down a bat beside them, and came back tossing a cricket-ball. they could see his face, still rather stern-looking, but not so stern as it had been before; and then they heard him say "ready?" and saw him bowl the ball, which bounced over the wickets and hit a tree behind. they crept nearer, until they were almost on the edge of the clearing. "you ought to have stopped that one," they heard him say; and still the bat lay in front of the wickets, and there wasn't a sound but the murmur of the trees. for a long time--almost ten minutes, they thought--he went on bowling and fetching back the ball; and every now and then he spoke a few words as if there were somebody really batting. and then a strange thing happened, for slowly, as they watched, they saw the bat rise from the ground; and then they saw the figure of a little boy taking guard with it in front of the wickets. he was about fourteen, with short fair hair, and he was dressed in a flannel shirt and trousers; and the shirt was unbuttoned, showing the upper part of his chest, and its sleeves were rolled back over his sturdy arms. they looked at the judge and saw that his whole face had altered, as if the sun had come down and were shining through it; and the boy smiled at him, and then tucked his lips in, as the judge bowled him a difficult ball. "well played," said the judge, and they saw the boy look up and begin to colour a little at the words of praise; and then gwendolen got a cramp in her foot and couldn't help moving and making a sound. lord barrington turned sharply toward her. "who's there?" he asked in a terrible voice. gwendolen stood up, and so did marian. it was no good hiding. they were both too frightened to speak. when he saw them, he stood quite still. a wood-pigeon flew across the clearing. the little boy was no longer there. "come here," he said, and they had to obey him. he stood looking at them. his face was like marble, and his eyes searched them through and through. "well," he said, "what have you got to say for yourselves?" they hung their heads and said nothing. then marian tried to speak, though her voice sounded funny. "please, sir," she said, "we wanted to ask you something, but you were playing with the boy." "the boy?" he said: "did you see the boy?" they lifted their eyes to him. "why, of course," they answered. for a moment he was silent. then his voice changed a little. "come and sit down," he said, "and tell me what you saw." when they had told him, he just nodded, and sat, as mr williams had done, staring in front of him. "well, now you know," he said, "why this wood is private, and why i never allow anybody to come into it." "because of the boy?" asked marian. "because of the boy," he said. "i'll try to explain to you, but i doubt if you'll understand. you see, i had a notion that if we human beings could only imagine anything hard enough, the thing that we imagined might become actually real, if only just for a minute or two." he moved his hand, with its heavy gold signet-ring. "this is the place," he said, "where i come to imagine." "i see," said marian. "but why do you imagine the boy?" he reached for his coat and took something out of a pocket-book. "this is his photograph," he said. "he was my only son." the two children looked at it, and then gave it back to him. "he was fond of cricket," he said. "he died at school." then he rose to his feet, and they followed him out of the wood. "well, what was it," he said, "that you wanted to ask me?" they told him, and his face became stern again. "but he knew the rule," he said, "and he was older than you; and rules are made to be kept, you know. i can't have them broken." they were silent for a moment, and then gwendolen had a rather awful and irreverent idea. "but p'raps if god hadn't broken one of his rules," she said, "you might never have seen the boy." he stood looking at her for a long time, or at least it seemed long, though it was only twelve seconds. then he glanced at his watch. "what are your names?" he asked. they told him their names, and he held out his hand. "well, good-bye, marian and gwendolen," he said; "and you can tell mr williams that i've changed my mind." deep within the wood i know, there's a place where mourners go, just as, in the twilight cool, crept they to siloam's pool. there, with one accord, they bring sorrows for a healing wing; and each hushed and stooping leaf lays its hand on their heart's grief. the hill that remembered [illustration: cæsar's camp] viii the hill that remembered cuthbert's friend, edward goldsmith, was six months older than cuthbert, but they were in the same form, which was the lowest but one, in mr pendring's school. most of the other boys thought him conceited, and so did cuthbert, and so he was. but cuthbert had once been conceited himself, and so he was able to sympathize with him. besides being strong too, and able to dive backward, edward had given cuthbert his second-best pocket-knife; and that was why cuthbert resolved at last to introduce him to tod the gipsy. that was rather a special thing to do, because tod was rather a special sort of gipsy; and cuthbert had never introduced him to anybody, not even to doris, although she had asked him to. it was in the hospital, just before he had had his tonsils out, that cuthbert had first met tod; and tod had told him not to be frightened, because there was no need to be, and it wouldn't do any good. tod himself was often in hospital, because he had consumption and had lost one of his lungs; and besides that he was always getting knocked down or run over, through being absent-minded. he was tall and thin, with a lot of black hair that kept tumbling over his eyes, and his eyes were brown, like a dog's eyes, only they were brighter and always laughing. when cuthbert next met tod, he had been living in his little tent on the other side of fairbarrow down; and cuthbert had stayed there all night with him, and tod had told him the names of the stars. very early in the morning, when cuthbert woke up, he had seen tod kneeling in the dew, and a couple of wild rabbits nestling in his arms and smelling his clothes, just as if they had been tame ones. then tod had beckoned him with his head and whistled a peculiar sweet whistle, and a hare near by had pricked up her ears and come through the grass to have her back stroked. that whistle was one of tod's secrets, and he knew lots more, and was always learning new ones; and when cuthbert had told him about in-between land he said that he had been there too, by another way. so it was rather a great thing for cuthbert to promise edward that he would introduce him to tod the gipsy; and edward was naturally rather impatient to go and find him, and talk to him. but the difficulty was that tod was always travelling about, and cuthbert never knew where he was likely to be; and it wasn't until tea-time on the third monday of october that at last they found him, quite by accident. owing to one of mr pendring's boys having won a medal for helping to save somebody's life, the whole school had been given an extra half-holiday, and cuthbert and edward had gone for a country walk. already in the town most of the leaves had fallen, and were lying in dirty heaps by the roadside, and the scraps of gardens in front of the houses were sodden and empty of flowers. but out in the country, where the harvest was stacked, and men were drilling seed into the moist-smelling earth, the oaks and elms were still glowing with coppery or rusty-red leaves. the cottage gardens, too, were full of flowers--clumps of starry michaelmas daisies, and sheaves of dark-eyed golden sunflowers, like bumble-bees on fire. but there were real fires about also, as there always are when summer is over--fires of weeds at the ends of the plough-furrows, and fires of potato stems in the kitchen-gardens; and it was over a little fire of sticks and dead leaves that they suddenly came upon tod the gipsy. they were now about six miles from home, at the foot of the long range of hills, of which fairbarrow down, with its close-cropped turf, was the nearest to the town. behind this the ground dipped a little, and then became a hill called simon's nob, and behind simon's nob rose the highest hill of all, known as cæsar's camp. from cæsar's camp, on a very clear day, it was just possible to see the sea; and battles had been fought on all these hills hundreds and thousands of years before. sometimes they had been held by the ancient britons when they were fighting against each other; and sometimes they had been held by the ancient britons when they were fighting against the romans. sometimes the romans had held them when they were attacked by the britons, and once the britons had held them against the saxons; and then in their turn the saxons had held them when they had been attacked by the danes. after that they had slept for hundreds of years, with only the sheep to nibble their grass, and an occasional shepherd shouting across them to his shaggy and wise-eyed sheep-dog. the fiercest battle of all had been fought on cæsar's camp, from which the romans had driven away the britons, and there was a great mound on it, covered with grass, in which the dead soldiers had been buried. but that was nearly two thousand years ago, and it had never looked more peaceful than on this autumn afternoon, with the baby moon peeping above it and growing brighter as the daylight faded. it was a steep climb to the top of cæsar's camp, and the hill was guarded at the bottom by a fringe of elm trees; and in front of these elm trees there was a belt of bracken, reddening with decay, and reaching to the boys' shoulders. it had been rather fun to push their way through it, startling the rabbits, and listening to the rooks; and it was in a little quarry among the elms that tod the gipsy had made his fire. close to the fire he had spread some branches and a heap of bracken to make a mattress, and over this he had thrown his blanket and the little tarpaulin that made his tent. when they first caught sight of him, he was humming a song and beating an accompaniment to himself on an empty biscuit-box: where do the gipsies come from? the gipsies come from egypt. the fiery sun begot them, their dam was the desert dry. she lay there stripped and basking, and gave them suck for the asking, and an emperor's bone to play with, whenever she heard them cry. cuthbert introduced him to edward goldsmith, and tod held out a bony hand. "glad to meet you," he said. "you're just in time for tea. you'll have to share a mug, but there's lots of bread and jam." he was thinner than ever, but he had the same old trick of tossing his hair back from his eyes; and his eyes were as bright and gay and piercing as if they had just come back from some magic wash. while they were eating, he sipped his tea and filled his pipe and went on singing: what did the gipsies do there? they built a tomb for pharaoh, they built a tomb for pharaoh, so tall it touched the sky. they buried him deep inside it, then let what would betide it, they saddled their lean-ribbed ponies and left him there to die. he nodded his head toward the sides of the quarry, the overhanging trees, and the hill beyond. "and this is where they've left me," he said. cuthbert stared at him. "but you're not going to die, are you?" "pretty soon," said tod. he tapped his chest. "there's not much left, you know, in this old box of mine." "well, you don't seem to mind much," said edward. "i don't," said tod, "and i'll tell you why. i've just found out something that i've been looking for very nearly all my life." he lit his pipe and leaned forward, with the fire shining in his eyes. the days were so short now that the dusk had already come, and the firelight cast strange shadows over the little quarry. the boys drew closer to him, and he took from his waistcoat pocket a small box, with a pinch of red powder in it. "for twenty years," he said, "i've been trying to make this powder; and at last i've succeeded--just in time." they bent over his hand and examined the powder. it was as light as thistle-down, and smelt like cloves. "now look," he said. he threw some on the fire. but the boys could see nothing except the crumbling leaves. tod laughed. "look a little higher," he said; and then, in the smoke, they suddenly saw a bird hovering, and then another bird and another, and a couple of nests hanging faintly in the air. "now listen," said tod; and above the whisper of the flames they could hear the soft sharpening of tiny beaks, and the sound of wings, and the ghosts of cheepings and chirpings, as if they had been hundreds of miles away. then they faded, and tod leaned back, looking triumphantly at the two boys. "but what were they?" said cuthbert. "they were memories," said tod. "they were the memories of those dead leaves." "but do leaves remember?" asked edward. "everything remembers," said tod, "only nobody's been able to prove it. the ground we're sitting on, the fields you've come across, the hills above us, they're crammed with memories. and when they die, if they ever do die, these memories come crowding back to them, just like they do to a dying man; and it's this powder that makes them visible." he rose to his feet and looked about him. "of course, those leaves," he said, "were only a year old, and all that they remembered was just those birds. but look at this,"--he picked up a piece of wood--"this is the core of an old tree. this was a sapling three hundred years ago." he sprinkled the rest of the powder on it and threw it on the fire. for a minute or two nothing happened, and then, high up, they saw some more birds hovering; but presently, as they looked, they saw the figure of a man, with his hair in ringlets hanging down over his shoulders. he wore a plumed hat, and his sleeves were frilled, and there was a sword at his belt, and he wore knee-breeches and stockings and jewelled buckles upon his shoes. he stood in mid-air, looking about him, and then he was joined by the figure of a girl. he took her in his arms, and then they faded away; and there instead was a peasant in a smock. they saw him lean forward and carve something in the air, as though he were cutting somebody's name upon a tree-trunk; and then he too was gone, and there were two children playing hide-and-seek in the wreathing smoke. one was a little girl, and she wore a mob cap and a long skirt dropping almost to her ankles; and the other was a boy with a very short jacket and trousers that looked as if they had shrunk. then they saw a fox, with his ears pricked, and one of his front paws lifted; and then there was nothing again but the sides of the quarry and the deepening shadows of the elms. "that's all," said tod, "because i've no more powder. all the rest's up there." he jerked his thumb toward the top of the hill, hidden away from them by the trees. "why is it up there?" asked cuthbert. tod stared at them as if he were trying to read their hearts. "have you courage?" he asked. it was a difficult question. they told him that they hoped so, but that they weren't quite sure. "well, if you have," he said, "and you'd like to come back here to-night, just about half-past twelve, you'll be able to see something that nobody alive has ever seen or will see again." cuthbert and edward looked at one another. it would be a six-mile walk, and they would have to start about eleven o'clock, and they would have to go to bed first and creep out of their houses without anybody knowing. the moon would have sunk, too, so that it would be quite dark. they both felt a little queer inside. but they promised to come, and agreed to meet at eleven o'clock near st peter's church. cuthbert was there first, just before the clock struck. everybody was in bed, and he had slipped out unnoticed. but his heart sank a little as he ran down the empty street and saw no edward at the corner waiting for him. but edward came just as the clock struck, and the night seemed less dark now that there were two of them, and soon they were out of the town and running close together between the hedges of the country road. once a motor-car came travelling toward them, almost blinding them with the glare of its head-lamps; but after they had left the road and struck across the fields the night was so still that they could almost have heard a star drop. it was so still that they spoke in whispers, and so dark that they sometimes tripped; and once when they stopped for a moment to take breath, a star did drop, and they almost heard it. presently, when their eyes became used to the darkness, they could see the dim outline of the hills, and the faint ribbon of the milky way rising like smoke from cæsar's camp. at the edge of the bracken they found tod waiting for them. "come along," he said, "only don't go too fast," and they began to climb through the belt of trees out on to the hillside beyond. the grass was short here and slippery with dew, with glimmers of chalk beneath it where the turf was broken; and it was so steep that half-way up tod stopped to fight for his breath. "it's all right," he said. "i'll be better in a moment," and as they stood waiting for him and looking back, the country behind them seemed to have vanished into a lake of darkness. then they began to climb again, their boots slipping, and suddenly as they climbed they smelt a new smell--a strange sort of acrid, sweet smell, as of turf-fires burning above them. "yes," said tod. "i was up there an hour ago. i've lit half a dozen fires." at the top of the hill he dropped down for a moment close to a large white stone. he lit a match and looked at his watch. "ten minutes to one," he said. "we're just in time." they were now in a sort of trench or grassy moat that encircled the great mound, and they had climbed into this over a smaller mound that had once been a barricade. in this trench tod had dug half a dozen holes, and in each of these holes there was a turf-fire smouldering; and now he turned and lifted the white stone, and took from under it a little bag. "this is the rest of the powder," he said, "all there is, and all there ever will be, for the secret will die with me." he rose to his feet and began to sprinkle it thickly over the burning turf in each of the little holes. then he came back and spoke to the two boys. "there are great memories," he said, "stored in this hill, but they are fierce ones, and you'll need all your courage." then he moved away from them toward the farthest of the fires, and cuthbert felt a sort of change coming over the hill. he could see nothing, but it felt different, as if it were surrounded by a different sort of country--a savage country, with no railways in it, or roads, or parliaments, or policemen. even the stars seemed to have grown younger, and nearer the earth, and more lawless; and then he heard voices filling the air about him, and a man shouting hoarse commands. he turned with a start and found himself among a crowd of naked and half-naked men--small men, with hair hanging over their shoulders, and bearded chins, and glittering eyes. some of them were painted with curious patterns, shining in dull colours from their skins; and they were all pointing toward the darkness that lay like a sea round the sides of the hill. then some of them spoke to him and asked him who he was, and he found that he understood them and could answer them; and the man who had been shouting, and who seemed to be their leader, came and looked into his eyes. he laid his hands on cuthbert's shoulders. "son of my sons," he said, "are you ready to fight with us?" and cuthbert suddenly felt himself burning with anger, because he knew that they were going to be attacked. "of course i am," he said, and then there was a great shout, and everybody rushed to the barricade; and there all round them, pricking out of the darkness, they could see helmets and the rims of shields. cuthbert somehow knew that these belonged to the romans, and that he hated them for invading his country; and he was so excited that he had forgotten to notice what had happened to edward goldsmith. he only knew that he had disappeared. as for edward, he had forgotten all about cuthbert. for he had suddenly noticed that there were now trees growing half-way up the hillside, and he had jumped over the barricade and run down to explore them. when he got there, he had found himself among an army of men marching up the hill behind locked shields, and a young centurion with merry eyes had stooped and gripped him by the arm. "hullo!" he said; "son of my sons, are you going to fight with us against these barbarians?" and edward tingled all over with pride, and said, "rather, you bet i am." then a great stone from the top of the barricade came leaping down the hillside and crushed one of the men in the front rank, but the others closed together and never stopped marching. when cuthbert saw them he was blind with anger, but he knew in his heart that they were bound to win; and next moment they were over the parapet like a wave of hot and breathing iron. he heard groans and cries and the shouts of the british chief, and his eyes were full of tears as he beat at the roman shields; and then he saw edward and hit him in the face, and made his nose bleed, and knocked out two of his teeth. edward struck back, and gave cuthbert a black eye, and the night was full of hewings and the flashings of swords; and then everything was still again, and the hill was empty, and the stars were the same stars that they had always known. squatting on the barricade, with his arms round his knees, they saw tod the gipsy laughing at them; and cuthbert rubbed his eye, and edward sniffed hard to try and stop the blood running from his nose. tod rose and stretched himself. "well, you've had it out," he said, "and so has the hill, and now you'd better be off home." so they said good-bye to him, and they never saw him again; and next morning when edward came down to breakfast, his father scolded him for explaining that an ancient briton had hit him on the nose. but cuthbert's daddy only stroked his chin when he heard that the romans had given cuthbert a black eye, because that was just the sort of thing, he said, that the romans sometimes did, though they had many good qualities. down the dead centurions' way, tod the gipsy drives his shay. roman, briton, saxon, dane, tod the gipsy hears them plain. faint beneath the noonday chalk, tod can overhear them talk. fiercer than the stars at night, chin to chin, he sees them fight. st uncus [illustration: doris and st uncus] ix st uncus it was now november, and even in the country the last of the leaves had fallen from the trees, and the bushy hollows between the roots of the downs were grey with old man's beard. some people like november, because it is the quietest month of the year--as quiet as somebody tired, who has just fallen asleep--and they love to see the fields lying dark and still, and the empty branches against the sky. but some people hate it, especially people who live in towns, because of its fogs and falling rains, and they turn up their coat-collars, and blow their noses, and call it the worst month of the year. doris hated it too, and she hated this particular november more than any other that she could recall, because it had rained and rained and rained, and because her mummy was so ill that she had had to go to hospital. she was also angry with cuthbert, because she thought that it wasn't fair for him to have taken edward to see tod the gipsy, and never even have offered to take her, although she had asked him to over and over again. so she hadn't spoken to him for nearly a month, not even after her mummy had been taken to the hospital; and she hated auntie kate, who had come to look after the home, because she kept asking her how her little boy-friend was. auntie kate had a face like a hen's, with a beaky nose and bobbly eyes, and she always counted people's pieces of bread and butter, and wondered what income their father and mother had. her husband was a clergyman, so she went to church a lot, on week-days as well as on sundays; and now she had gone to a bazaar at st peter's church, just when doris had meant to go to tea with gwendolen. so doris was very angry, because she had to stay at home and take care of her five brothers; and the only happy thing that she had to think about was that mummy would be home next week. but at half-past three on a wet saturday afternoon next week seems a horribly long way off, and jimmy and jocko were being as naughty as ever they knew how. jimmy was six and jocko was five, and they were playing water games in the bathroom; and doris knew that they would be soaking their clothes and making an awful mess, but she didn't care. "at any rate they're quiet," she thought to herself, "and i don't see why i should fight with them any more," and then she pressed her nose against the front-door glass and looked dismally into the street. but there was nothing to see except the falling rain, and the dirty brown fronts of the opposite houses, and a strip of mud-coloured sky, and the milkman's cart with its yellow pony. behind her, in a dark cupboard under the stairs, teddy and george, the twins, were playing at hell; and every now and then she could hear a faint clicking sound, as they practised gnashing their teeth. as for christopher mark, who was three and a half, she had forgotten all about him; and by now, if it hadn't been for auntie kate, she might have been playing in gwendolen's big barn. then she thought of cuthbert again and of his exciting adventure on the top of cæsar's camp, and she breathed on the glass, and drew a picture of cuthbert, making him as ugly as she could. "i hate him," she thought, "and i hate auntie kate, and i hate the twins, and i hate everybody," and then she turned round, and her heart stood still--or at least she felt as if it did--and her cheeks became white. for there was christopher mark at the top of the stairs, with a rabbit under one arm and an engine under the other; and she suddenly saw him slip and begin to pitch head-long down, with a sickening thud, thud, thud. for a moment she was so frightened that she could hardly breathe, but just as she sprang forward an odd thing happened, for he stopped short, almost as if somebody had caught him, and didn't even begin to cry. "my goodness!" she said, and then she stopped short too, for squatting down on the topmost stair was the strangest little man that she had ever seen, hanging on to christopher mark. he was a little man with a bald head and a big mouth and a crooked back; and his right arm was only a stump, with a very long hook at the end of it. his left arm was odd too, almost as crooked as his back, and he had curled it round one of the banisters, while he hooked christopher mark up with the other. "good afternoon," he said. "i see you have recognized me. that's very clever of you. most people don't." doris was too surprised at first to be able to answer him. but he didn't seem to mind, and went on smiling; while as for christopher mark, he climbed upstairs again, just as if the little man hadn't been there. "i'm afraid i don't recognize you," said doris at last; "but i'm frightfully obliged to you for saving christopher mark." "not at all," he said. "that's what i'm for. i'm st uncus." doris frowned a little. "st uncus?" she asked. "latin for hook," he said. "excuse me half a moment." for a flicker of an eyelid he disappeared. "just been to china," he said, "to hook another one." doris opened her eyes. "but are you a _real_ saint?" she asked. the little man flushed. "why, of course i am. i'm a patron saint. i'm the patron saint of staircases." "but i didn't know," said doris, "that staircases had patron saints." "they don't," he said. "they have only one." "i mean," said doris--"it's frightfully rude, i'm afraid--but i didn't know that they had even one." he smiled again. "very likely not," he said. "lots of people don't. but they have." he disappeared once more. "baby in jamaica," he said, "just beginning to fall from the top landing." then he stroked his chin and looked at her thoughtfully. "i suppose you've been left here," he said, "to look after the children." doris nodded. "well, then, you ought to know," he said, "that there are two things that children love more than anything else. one of them's water and the other's staircases. and they're both a bit dangerous. so they each have a patron saint." "i see," said doris. "and who's the patron saint of water?" "fellow called fat bill," he said. "he's my younger brother." "that seems a queer name," said doris, "for a saint." "well, he's a queer fellow," said st uncus, "but we've both been lucky." doris couldn't help looking at his crooked back, and his deformed left arm, and his right stump. "ah, yes," he said; "but you mustn't judge by those. that's the very mistake that i made. you see, i once fell down a staircase myself, two or three years after staircases were invented." he looked at doris and nodded his head. "it was when i was a small boy," he said, "as small as your little brother; and that's why i grew up crooked and deformed. i was very unhappy about it. it was thousands of years ago. but i can still remember how unhappy i was. i used to watch the other children playing games, and when i grew up i watched the men go hunting. and i had to stay at home, and the women despised me; and at last i died, and then i saw how silly i had been." "why had you been silly?" asked doris. "well, i'd wasted the whole of my life, you see, thinking about the staircase and how miserable i was; and so when the good lord god asked me what i wanted to do next, there was hardly anything that i could turn my hand to. but i told you i was lucky, and so i was, for as it happened i had a great idea; and that was to try and save as many children as i could from being as miserable as i had been. of course, i couldn't expect much of a job, seeing how i'd thrown away all my chances, so i asked the good lord god if he would allow me to look after the world's staircases." he disappeared again. "been to port jacobson," he said. "well, the good lord god thought that it was rather a fine idea; and so he laid his hand upon me and gave me a new name; and my new name was st uncus." "shall i have a new name too?" asked doris. st uncus beamed. "why, of course," he said. "everybody has a new name, only it generally depends, to a certain extent, upon what they did with their old ones." doris thought for a moment. "but wouldn't you rather be in heaven," she said, "than sitting about on these silly old staircases?" st uncus laughed. "but heaven's not a place, my dear. heaven's being employed by the good lord god." then he looked at his watch. "and now i wonder," he said, "if you'd mind doing me a good turn?" "oh, i should love to!" said doris; "but how can i?" "well, you see," he said, "the worst of my job is that i can never get a chance of seeing my brother bill. he's always busy by the edges of ponds and things, and i'm always stuck on somebody's staircase; and i thought perhaps, if you wouldn't mind taking my hook for a bit, i could slip off for a moment and have a talk to him." doris felt a little shy. "but should i be able to use it?" she asked. "and how could i tell whether somebody wanted me?" "oh, that'll be all right," he said, "as soon as you catch hold of the hook; and perhaps you won't be wanted at all. the only trouble is when two children are falling at once, and then you have to decide which you'll go for. but that doesn't happen very often, considering how many children there are." so doris went upstairs, and he unbuttoned the hook, and when she caught hold of it she felt a strange sort of thrill. she felt like cuthbert had felt when he went into in-between land; and indeed that was where she really was. st uncus had vanished, and she saw christopher mark like a little fat ghost, with his soul shining inside him. then she suddenly heard a cry in a strange foreign language, and she saw a dark-eyed mother at the bottom of some stone steps, and a small round baby, with an olive-coloured skin, tumbling down them one by one. she felt a hot wind, full of the odour of spices, blowing faintly against her cheek; and then she bent forward and hooked up the baby, and saw the look of terror die out of the mother's face. never in her life had doris felt so pleased. she felt as if she could shout and sing with joy. no wonder, she thought, that st uncus looked so happy. she began to understand what being in heaven meant. and then she heard a shout, and smelt a smell of herrings, and she saw a man in a blue jersey, and a curly-headed boy, about four years old, pitching head first down a dark staircase. through a dirty window-pane she could see the mouth of a river, full of fishing-smacks floating side by side; and she saw a woman, with rolled-up sleeves, run out of a kitchen and stand beside the man. then she hooked up the boy, and she heard the woman say "thank god!" and the man say "you little rascal, you!" and then she was back again, and there was st uncus sitting beside her and rubbing his hands. "ever so many thanks," he said. "i haven't seen old bill for nearly three hundred years. he says he'd like to meet you, but of course it's only now and again that anybody like you is able to see us." then he said good-bye to her, and she never saw him again, but she knew that he was there, and once she actually heard him; and that was very late on this same evening, long after everyone had gone to bed. for soon after midnight, when auntie kate was dreaming about clergymen and bazaars, and when teddy and george were dreaming about bears, and jimmy and jocko about bathrooms, and when christopher mark was dreaming about rabbits, and doris wasn't dreaming at all--soon after midnight a little red-hot cinder suddenly popped out of the kitchen grate. it fell on a bit of matting, and burnt its way through to the floor-boards below; and presently a wisp of smoke, with a wicked pungent smell, began to twist upward and flatten against the ceiling. fuller and fuller grew the kitchen of smoke, and teddy and george began to dream of camp-fires, but auntie kate still dreamt of bazaars and pincushions marked tenpence halfpenny. teddy and george were sleeping by themselves, and christopher mark slept in a little room turning out of auntie kate's. these rooms were above the sitting-room in the front of the house, and it was teddy and george who slept over the kitchen; while doris herself and jimmy and jocko shared a little room under the roof. the floor of the kitchen was now blazing fiercely, with the boards crackling in the flames, and teddy and george began to dream about guns, but still they didn't wake up. they only moved a little uneasily, and it was somebody shouting that finally woke them, just as it was a neighbour banging at the front door that roused auntie kate from her dreams. "hurry up!" cried the neighbour, "your house is on fire!" and auntie kate was so flustered that she quite forgot where she had put her clothes, and rushed downstairs in her nightdress. as for teddy and george, their room was full of smoke, and they bolted out of it, coughing and spluttering, and met doris coming down from the attic, pushing jimmy and jocko in front of her. the kitchen door had now swung open, and the flames were darting across the hall; and clouds of smoke were rolling upstairs like a sour and suffocating fog. "never mind," said doris. "hold your breath, and run downstairs as quick as you can," and soon they were all standing together in the street, while some of the neighbours were running for the fire-engine. it had stopped raining, but the pavement felt all cold and clammy as they stood upon it with their bare feet, and it seemed funny to be out in the dark with nothing on but their nightgowns. auntie kate had fled into an opposite house, because she couldn't bear that so many people should see her; but teddy and george were rather enjoying themselves, though jimmy and jocko had begun to cry. then doris looked round, "where's christopher mark?" she cried, and everybody looked at everybody else, and doris knew that he must be still asleep in his little dressing-room upstairs. she rushed into the house, but the leaping flames had already begun to curl round the banisters; and the lady next door caught hold of her arm and told her that it would be madness to try and rescue him. but doris shook her off and ran across the hall, and dashed blindly up the burning staircase. "oh, st uncus!" she said, "come and help me; come and help me to save christopher mark." the sound of the flames was like the roar of an engine, and the smoke was thicker than the blackest night. but at the top of the stairs she suddenly heard a whisper, "it's all right, my dear, i'm here." and then she laughed, and found christopher mark fast asleep, hugging his white rabbit; and in another few seconds she was out in the street again, with christopher mark safe in her arms. some of the people cheered her and patted her on the back, and began to tell her how brave she had been; and she was rather pleased, of course, especially when she thought of mummy, who would be sure to hear about it in hospital. but she wasn't conceited, because she knew that she had been helped by a little saint with a crooked back, who served god by keeping an eye on all the staircases in the world. never a babe in port of spain, peabody buildings, portland maine, limerick, lima, boston, york, nottingham, naples, cairo, cork, milton of campsie, moscow, mull, halifax, hampstead, hobart, hull, never a baby climbs a stair but little st hook is waiting there. old mother hubbard [illustration: mother hubbard's] x old mother hubbard cuthbert was very sorry when he heard about the fire at doris's house, and when he next saw her in the street, he almost crossed the road to speak to her. but she hadn't spoken to him for so long that he had resolved not to talk to her unless she spoke to him first. doris and jimmy and jocko were now staying with some people called brown; and doris's mother and the twins and christopher mark were staying with gwendolen's aunt and captain jeremy. it was rather fun staying with the browns, but on the whole doris was rather sad, because it would be two months, so the builders said, before they could all be at home together again. cuthbert knew about this, because marian had told him; and that was why he nearly crossed the road. but he decided not to, and he didn't see doris again until the second day of the holidays. that was the thursday before christmas, and it was a grey day and very cold, with a strong wind blowing out of the north-east, and all the houses looking huddled and shrunken. it was early in the afternoon, and he had just been to call for edward, but edward had gone out to sit by the railway. he was collecting the numbers on engines, and had already got thirty-seven. cuthbert was collecting too, but he was collecting the dates on pennies, so he didn't feel inclined to go and sit with edward; and it was just as he was wondering what to do that he saw doris turn the corner. for a moment he thought that he would pretend not to see her, but she was all alone, and it suddenly occurred to him that it would be rather a good idea to take her out to tea at uncle joe's. so he stopped and asked her, and she was very glad, because she had nothing particular to do; and she told him all about st uncus and the fire and what it was like being nearly burnt to death. "let's cut across the fields," she said, "past old mother hubbard's. it's jolly cold. i think it's going to snow." "i hope it is," said cuthbert. "but it's not so cold as the day on which we found the ice-men." but it was quite cold enough, with the horses in the fields standing dismally under the naked hedges, and the black north-easter crumbling the ridges of the plough-lands until they looked like pale-coloured powdered chocolate. "i shall be jolly glad," said cuthbert, "when we get to uncle joe's," and just then they passed mother hubbard's--a melancholy house standing by itself, with all its blinds and curtains drawn. it was always like that, and behind it were some ruined stables, with a tin roof that flapped up and down; and a big yellow dog on a long chain ran out and yelped at them as they passed. this was called mother hubbard's house, because it belonged to a miss hubbard who lived there all by herself, and who had allowed nobody to enter the door since her father had died fifty years ago. he had been a proud old general with a bad temper; and some people said that he had driven miss hubbard mad, but other people said that she was only queer, and hated everybody except her dog. occasionally she could be seen peering round one of the blinds, or feeding her dog in the ruined stables; and once a week she went into the town with a big bag to do her shopping. the shop-people said that she was very polite, and so did the postman, who sometimes took her a letter. but she always kept her own counsel, and nobody could ever make her talk. why she lived like that, nobody knew. some people said that it was because she was so poor, and because her father had made her promise never to let people know how poor she was. but other people said that she was really rather rich, and that she must have had some great trouble. she was very old--nearly eighty--although her eyes were clear and so were her cheeks; but there were still a few people who remembered her as a girl galloping on horseback over the fields. "silly old thing," said doris, as they left her house behind them. "i shouldn't be surprised if she was a witch." but cuthbert said that there weren't any such things, and perhaps she had killed somebody and had a guilty conscience. then they crossed a road, and climbed over a stile, and skirted a great field pricked with tiny wheat-blades; and then they slipped down a rather steep bank into a sheltered lane still wet with mud. they had already forgotten old mother hubbard, and the next moment they forgot her still more; for just then there came clattering down the lane a young man on horseback, splashed to his eyes. his bowler hat was crammed down on his head, and he shouted at them as he galloped by. "which way have they gone?" he cried, but he never stopped for an answer, and soon there came some more riders, both men and women. they had evidently come down the lane to avoid a big ploughed field that lay between high hedges on the other side of it, for cuthbert and doris presently saw them turn sharply to the right into a grass meadow where it was easier to gallop. "it's the hunt," said doris. "let's run after them," so they turned and ran down the lane, and saw the riders, one by one, jumping over a gate on the far side of the meadow. then they crossed the meadow and scrambled over the gate just in time to see the last of the horsemen disappearing over another hedge a couple of hundred yards away. "we shall never catch them," said cuthbert, but just then they heard a horn blowing. "it's the fox," cried doris. "they've seen the fox," and half a minute later, from a little rise in the ground, they saw the whole hunt streaming away from them. they were so hot now that they had forgotten all about the wind and the grey clouds gathering over the downs, and their only thought was to be up among the horses and their jolly, red-cheeked riders. so they ran down the rise and across another road and over some more fields and past a wood, until they came at last to a stream, running rather sluggishly between some pollarded willows. on one of these there was a man standing, and he waved his hand to them as they came up. "they're coming back," he said. "keep along the stream, and i'll lay a dollar you'll see some fun." it was now nearly four, and the light was beginning to fade, and they were ever so far from uncle joe's; but they pushed their way through the tangled grass until they came to a plank across the stream. this led them out beside a hazel copse, and just as they were wondering which way to go they heard the horn again, not very far away, and the clear, deep calling of the hounds. something cold fell on cuthbert's cheek. "hullo!" he said, "it's beginning to snow." and then a burly man on a big grey mare came crashing through the undergrowth on the other side of the stream. he gave a shout, and they jumped aside as his horse rose to clear the water; but the next moment he was sprawling on the ground in front of them, with his scarlet coat about his ears. they heard him swear, but as he picked himself up and helped his horse out of the stream he began to laugh, and soon he was in the saddle again and vanishing into the dusk. for a minute or two they waited, but nobody else came. an old cock pheasant rattled out of the hazel copse. the horn blew once more, and then all was still. their breath stood like smoke upon the air. then doris suddenly stooped and picked up a coin that had been half trampled into the bank. "hullo!" she said, "he's dropped a penny. you'd better add the date of it to your collection." cuthbert took it from her, but the penny was an old one, and the date was difficult to see. the snow began to fall upon them in heavy flakes. cuthbert took out his handkerchief and polished the coin. and then an odd thing happened, for suddenly, as he polished, the stream and the hazel copse seemed to fade away; and it was another girl--a grown-up girl--who had just given him the penny. "a penny for your thoughts," she said, and cuthbert knew that she wasn't speaking to him, but to somebody else; and the thoughts that came into his head weren't his own, but a grown-up man's. he knew that they were somebody else's thoughts, because he was thinking his own thoughts too; and the other person's thoughts were of two kinds--the weak thoughts that he decided to tell the girl, and the strong thoughts that went into the penny. the thoughts that he told the girl were that, when he got to south america, he was going to spend his spare time studying the birds there. he was going to write a book about them, and perhaps, when he had written his book, he would get a job looking after a museum. but his strong thoughts, that he didn't tell her, were "i love you and want to marry you; but i mustn't tell you that, because i'm only a carpenter, and you're a lady, and ever so far above me." "what's the matter?" said doris. cuthbert gave her the penny. "it's a queer sort of penny," he said. "catch hold of it." doris took it. "i don't see anything queer in it," she said. so cuthbert polished it once more. this time he polished it harder, so that when he gave it to doris again it was quite warm from the polishing; and doris seemed to be standing in a strange sort of room, full of old-fashioned furniture and heavy ornaments. the same girl said, "a penny for your thoughts," and the same thoughts came to her as had come to cuthbert. the day drew in. it was almost dark now, and the snow was glistening on their shoulders. "i know what's happened," she said. "his real thoughts were so strong that they all went into the penny." cuthbert nodded. "that's what i thought," he said. "and when you rub the penny they all come out." "did you notice the girl's dress?" asked doris, "and the way her hair was done, and the blue china dog on the mantelpiece?" cuthbert shook his head. "let's have another go," he said, and he rubbed the penny again as hard as he could. this time he noticed the room, with its queer high-backed piano, and a picture of people hunting hanging on the wall, and the blue china dog, and the girl's dress, and the curious way in which she had done her hair. it was pulled back from her forehead into a smooth sort of bundle behind her head; and her dress was all in terraces, like a wedding-cake, or a theatre turned upside down. "it must have been a good long time," said cuthbert, "since she gave him the penny. do you think he was the man who fell off the horse?" "oh, he couldn't have been," said doris. "he was much too young; and besides i'm sure that he was never a carpenter." she shivered a little. "we ought to be getting home," she said, but cuthbert lingered for a moment, looking at the penny. "i expect hundreds of people," he said, "have had it in their pockets and never known what was inside it." "i daresay," said doris, "but i know i'm jolly hungry, and we must be miles away from anywhere." nor were they quite sure where anywhere was, but they crossed the plank again and started for home, with the snow driving past their ears and piling up in front of their feet. grey-capped hedges loomed up before them, rising unexpectedly out of the darkness; and so thick lay the snow that they were never able to tell whether the next field was a ploughed one. but they passed the tree--or they thought that they did--on which the man had been standing; and they crossed the road--or they thought that they did--that they had crossed after running down the rise. but the hours went by, and they felt emptier and emptier, and several times they stumbled into snow-filled ditches; and the snow roared past them in angry whiteness, and melted upon their necks and trickled down their backs. longingly they thought then of uncle joe's and of plates of hot muffins before the fire, and even more longingly of supper at home, with bowls of steaming bread and milk. but every field seemed endlesser than the last, and the snow grew deeper and ever more deep; and the night closed down upon them like a lid, and their feet felt heavier than ten-pound weights. "i believe we're lost," said cuthbert, but doris didn't seem to hear, and so they toiled on with sinking hearts, and then at last, just as they were almost spent, they suddenly knocked their knees against a little gate. it was the sort of gate that leads into a garden path; and though they could see no sign of this, or even of a light, they pushed it open with a great effort, and went plunging into the snow beyond. sometimes people have been frozen close to a house, but in a little while they saw a great dark shadow; and then to their joy they found themselves in front of a door, with a gleam of light shining through the letter-box. for a long time they knocked, but nobody came; and several times they shouted through the letter-box. but still nobody came, and then from behind the house they heard the barking of a dog. doris gripped cuthbert's arm. "it's old mother hubbard's," she said. "that's her dog. i know it's bark." "then we'll never get in," said cuthbert, but just as he said that they heard footsteps coming down the hall. "who's there?" said a voice. it had an odd sort of creak in it, like the creak of a drawer that is seldom opened. cuthbert told her; and then, after a long pause, the door moved a little on its hinges. an eddy of snow whirled in in front of them, and the door swung back an inch or two more. "you'd better come inside," said miss hubbard, and they went into the hall, her first guests for fifty years. she stood looking at them over a flickering candle. her eyes were frostier than the wind outside. the air of the house smelt like a tomb. they could hear the ticking of several clocks. "you'd better come into the scullery," she said, "and shake the snow off," and she led them in silence to the back of the house, where she left them alone for nearly twenty minutes before she came back to ask them in to tea. "it's in the drawing-room," she said, "and i hope you won't talk. i'm very strong and i have a big dog." so they followed her into the drawing-room, and then a second, and even more wonderful, thing happened. cuthbert stopped short, and so did doris, and old miss hubbard switched round and stared at them. "what's the matter?" she asked. "what are you gaping at?" "why, it's the penny room!" said cuthbert; and so it was. for there was the queer high-backed piano; and there was the picture of people hunting; and there were the old-fashioned heavy ornaments. "but where's the dog," said doris, "the blue china dog that used to stand on the mantelpiece?" old miss hubbard had turned quite white. "the blue china dog?" she asked. "what do you know about that? it was broken thirty years ago." "but it's the same room," said cuthbert, "and there was a girl in it, and she gave a man a penny for his thoughts." old miss hubbard began to tremble. she sat down heavily, and her eyes looked frightened. "but how do you know?" she asked. "you're only children; and that was more than fifty years ago." cuthbert felt in his pocket and pulled out the penny. "this is the penny," he said, "that the girl gave him. we've just found it, quite by accident. and he didn't tell her all of his thoughts. he only told her some of them. the rest are in here, and we made them come out." he began to polish it again with his handkerchief; and then he gave it to her, and they stood watching her. for about five minutes she sat quite still; and then she looked up, and her voice had changed a little. "if i tell you a story," she said, "will you let me keep it?" cuthbert looked at doris, and doris nodded her head. "why, of course," said cuthbert. "we should be very pleased." so while they were having tea she told them that long ago a girl had lived in that house, and that she fell in love with a young man, who was a carpenter by trade. but he was also a naturalist, and especially fond of birds, and he wanted to discover all sorts of things about them; and one day he told the girl that he was just going away to work on a railway in south america. then he hesitated, as if he wanted to tell her something else, and she gave him a penny for his thoughts; and then he left the house, and was drowned at sea, and the girl never knew whether he had loved her or not. "it was very silly of him," said miss hubbard, "not to have told her. but perhaps the girl was sillier still. for she was so sad that she wasted her whole life; and now it seems that he loved her after all." then she went to the window and pulled up the blind. the storm had died down, and it had stopped snowing. brighter than eyes at a christmas party, the stars in their thousands shone in the sky. cuthbert and doris said that they must be going; and old miss hubbard took them to the front door. "you must come and see me again," she said. "come as often as you like; and perhaps next time you'll bring some of your friends." "but she never told us," said cuthbert, "who the girl was." "why, you silly," said doris, "it was miss hubbard herself." old mother hubbard went to the cupboard to fetch her poor dog a bone, but this mother hubbard in her heart's cupboard lives in the dark alone. sorrow's grey dust on the chandelier never a sun-ray sees, never a finger stirs the blind, nor the harpsichord's yellow keys. dumb is the clock with the china face, the carpet moulds on the floor; oh, won't you come down to her house with me and open miss hubbard's door? marian's party [illustration: the little temple] xi marian's party for a whole month after cuthbert and doris had had tea with old miss hubbard the snow lay white upon the ground, and the ice grew thick over the ponds. day after day during the christmas holidays the children went skating or tobogganing; and cuthbert and doris learnt to waltz on skates, and even marian learnt to cut threes. and then the frost broke, and it rained all through february, and then came march with its blustering winds. sometimes it was an east wind, drying the wet fields or powdering them over with tiny snowflakes; and sometimes it was a west wind, shouting in the tree-tops, with its arms full of sunshine and golden clouds; and the week before marian's birthday, which was on the th, was the windiest week of all, chasing people's hats across the tram-lines, and blowing the chimney-smoke down into their sitting-rooms. marian always had a party on her birthday, and this year it was going to be a specially nice one. twelve of her friends were coming, and so was uncle joe, and so were captain jeremy and gwendolen's aunt. so was mr parker, who lived with uncle joe, and so was lancelot, the bosun's mate; and the most wonderful thing of all, so was old miss hubbard. it had been cuthbert's idea to ask miss hubbard, and she had promised to come on one condition--that she might be allowed to bring the birthday-cake and the nine candles to stick into it. for marian was going to be nine, and it was nearly two years since she had met mr jugg; and she sometimes wondered--it seemed so long ago--if she had ever seen him at all. cuthbert used to tease her by pretending that she hadn't, and that mr jugg was only a dream, just as he used to tease her by telling her that the th of march was a silly sort of day on which to have a birthday. that was because his own birthday came in april, so that it was always in the holidays; but uncle joe, who knew a lot about birthdays, used to take marian's side. march was the soldier's month, he said, full of bugles, and one of the best months to be born in; while, as for cuthbert, anyone could tell by listening to him that he had come in april with all the other cuckoos. so marian was naturally rather excited; and then, on the very morning of her birthday, cuthbert woke up with a strawberry-coloured tongue and a chest as red as a cooked lobster. that was just the sort of thing, marian thought, that cuthbert would do, although she knew that she ought to feel sorry for him; and then the doctor came and said that he had scarlet fever, and that was the end of marian's party. for mummy had to put on an overall and begin to nurse cuthbert, and a big sheet was hung across the bedroom door, and mummy had to sprinkle it with carbolic acid, and of course marian wasn't allowed to go to school. but she could go for walks, said the doctor, as long as she went by herself and didn't go near anybody, or travel in trams and things; and so she spent the morning in taking notes to her friends, telling them that there wasn't to be a party after all. as for uncle joe, mummy sent him a message by a carrier who passed near his house. "and the first thing in the afternoon," she said to marian, "you must slip across the fields to old miss hubbard's." now a little girl whose only brother has just been silly enough to get scarlet fever is one of the loneliest people in the world; and that was just how marian felt. even her mummy tried to keep away from her, because she was nursing cuthbert, who was so infectious; and she had had strict orders when she arrived at mother hubbard's not to go inside her house. "everybody's happy," said marian, "except me," as she saw the people laughing in the country roads, and the horses biting at each other's manes, and the birds circling together in the soft air. for, as if somebody had known that it was going to be her birthday and waved a wand during the night, the wind had dropped and the clouds vanished, and the air was full of a thousand scents. there were earth-scents, warm and wet, and hedge-scents of primroses and growing weeds, and the scents of small animals, and cow-scents and lamb-scents, and tree-scents of bark and cracking buds. invisibly they rose and spread and mingled, like children flocking upstairs in their party frocks; and the sun beamed down on them like some gay old admiral who had just spied summer on the horizon. but marian was still unhappy and disappointed, and when she had given her message to old miss hubbard she wandered across the fields, not very much caring where she went or what might happen to her. that was how she was feeling when she came at last to a small wood, called the pirate's wood because it was shaped rather like a ship, with a lot of masts in it, easy to climb. it was cuthbert who had christened this wood, because he had climbed higher than the others--almost to the top of the tallest tree. but doris had climbed nearly as high, and they both laughed at marian, because she would only climb half-way up. it occurred to her this afternoon, however, that she would climb higher than either of them; and she didn't care, she said, if she fell from the top. so she swung herself up on to the lowest branch of the big elm-tree near the middle of the wood; and presently she saw above her the fork between two boughs that cuthbert had christened the crow's-nest. level with her nose, cut in the bark of the trunk, was a big d, standing for doris, so that already she had climbed as high as doris had climbed, and was able to look out over the other trees. but now she had come to the hardest part of the climb, for in order to reach the crow's-nest she would have to swarm up a piece of the elm-trunk from which there were no branches sticking out to help her. there were only roughnesses in the bark, into which she would have to dig her fingers, and first of all she had to pull up her skirt and tuck it down inside her knickers. for a moment or two she began to be frightened. but then she told herself that she didn't care; and soon she had swarmed high enough to reach one of the forking boughs, and had swung herself up into the crow's-nest. she was now as high as cuthbert had climbed, and rippling away below her she could see the fields and farm-lands stretching into the distance. two or three miles to her right lay the spires and chimneys and crinkled roof-tops of the town, and two or three miles to her left, golden in the sunlight, the hills lay strung along the sky. then she saw yet another fork between two slender boughs, just about a foot above her head, and in a minute or two she had climbed higher even than cuthbert had done, and was safely perched in the top of the tree. if only the others had been there she could have sighted imaginary ships for them sooner than any of them had done before; and then she remembered again how sad and lonely she was, and that nothing really mattered after all. so she stuffed her handkerchief into a crack in the tree just to prove that she had really climbed there; and it was just then that she saw a young man swinging across the fields toward the wood. he was wearing an old shooting-jacket and grey flannel trousers; and he was singing a song, of which she couldn't hear the words. she saw him climb a gate--rather cautiously, she thought; she had expected from his general air that he would vault it; and then he disappeared under the trees just as she began to climb down. but climbing down anything is often more difficult than climbing up, as marian found; and half-way down she suddenly discovered that she had somehow worked herself to the wrong side of the tree. below her were two or three branches that she thought would bear her, but there were long gaps yawning between them; and the main trunk was growing broader and broader, so that she could no longer span it with her arms. once a piece of bark broke in her fingers, and she slithered down a yard or more and nearly fell; and she could feel her heart jumping against her ribs, as she stood with both feet on a bending bough. then she heard the young man singing again in a cheerful voice, and she thought of shouting to him, but she felt too shy; and then she began to lower herself very carefully until she touched the branch below her with the tips of her toes. the young man stopped singing. "steady on," he cried. "you're touching a rotten branch." marian pulled herself up again. "but it's the only one there is," she said. "i can't reach any other." she heard him whistle. "hold on," he said. "i'm trying to find you--half a tick." he came to the bottom of the tree and looked up. "where are you now?" he asked. marian thought it a silly question. "why, just here," she said. "well, why don't you come down," he asked, "the same way that you got up?" "i don't know," she said. "i wish i could. but i've got wrong somehow. i'm stuck." she saw him touching the elm-trunk with his hands, running his fingers lightly and quickly over it. then he swung himself up on to the lowest bough, and soon he was near enough to touch her hand. "now catch hold," he said, "and jump toward me. don't be frightened. i'm as firm as a rock." marian jumped, and he caught and steadied her. "now you're all right," he said. "you'd better go down first." in another moment or two he was on the ground beside her, looking down at her with a smile. he was about six feet high, she thought, with queer-looking eyes and curly brown hair and a skin like a gipsy's. "well, what are you doing here," he asked, "climbing all alone?" marian told him about her party, and how she had had to put it off. "and it'll be seven or eight weeks," she said, "before cuthbert's well again, so that i shan't have one at all." "yes, i see," he said. "that's jolly bad luck. what about having some tea with me?" marian looked at him a little doubtfully. "but where do you live?" she asked. "do you live near here?" "well, just at present," he said, "i'm staying with lord barrington. but i have a flask in my pocket full of hot tea, and i stole some cakes before i came out." so they sat down together between the roots of the elm-tree, and the sun poured down upon them, almost as if it had been summer. "but why did you come here," said marian--"to this wood i mean?" "oh, just by accident," he said, "if there's any such thing." marian looked him up and down again. she wondered what he was. perhaps it was rude, but she ventured to ask him. "well, i used to be a painter," he said, "once upon a time. i was rather a successful one. so i saved a little money." "but you're quite young," she said. "why aren't you one now?" "because i had a disappointment," he said, "just like you have had." marian began to like him. "was it a bad one?" she asked. "pretty bad," he said. "i became blind." for a moment marian was so surprised that she couldn't say anything at all; and then she felt such a pig that she didn't want to say anything. for what was a silly little disappointment like hers beside so dreadful a thing as becoming blind? but he looked so contented and was humming so cheerfully as he counted out the cakes and began to divide them that her curiosity got the better of her, and she spoke to him once more. "but how did you know," she asked, "that i was up the tree?" "quite simple," he said. "i heard you." "and how could you tell that that was a rotten branch?" "because i heard the sound of it when your toes touched it." marian was silent for a moment. "you must have awfully good hearing," she said. "but i suppose you've practised rather a lot." "well, a good deal," he admitted. "you see, i was in the middle of asia when i first lost my sight. i was camping out, and painting pictures, and shooting an occasional buck for my breakfast and dinner. then a gun went off while somebody was cleaning it, and the next moment i was blind; and for a couple of months there was only one thing i wanted, and that was to die as soon as i could." he poured out some tea for her and dropped a lump of sugar into it. "and then one day," he said, "there came a man to see me, and he told me that i oughtn't to be discouraged. he was an old priest of some queer sort of religion that the people of those parts believed in; and he was sorry for me, and took me to stay with him in a little temple up in the mountains. i never knew his name, we were just father and son to each other, and i suppose that most people would have called him a heathen. but he had lived all his life up among the mountains, studying nature and praying to god. well, i stayed with him for more than a year, and he used to talk to me about the things he knew. i was a bad pupil, i'm afraid, but he was infinitely patient; and after a time i began to learn a little. 'you are blind, my son,' he used to tell me, 'but only a little less blind than other people. and you have ears that are still almost deaf. why not stay with me and learn to hear?' i told him that i _could_ hear, but he only smiled--it's a lovely thing to hear people smile--and then he began to teach me, just as he would have taught a child, the abc of hearing." he finished his cake and filled his pipe. "did you know," he went on, "that everything has a sound, just as it has a shape and colour of its own? well, it has; and presently i seemed to be living in a strange new world, all full of music. of course it wasn't really new. it was the same old world. only, like most people, i had been almost deaf to it; and when i first heard it, up in that little temple, i nearly went mad with joy. day after day and night after night i went out by myself and listened, and gradually i began to distinguish the separate sounds of things, like the notes of instruments in an orchestra." he stopped for a moment. "just behind us, for instance, there's a clump of anemones singing next to some primroses." marian turned and saw them, just as he had said. "oh, i wish," she cried, "that i could hear them too." the painter smiled. "wait for a moment," he said. "well, then once more i began to grow miserable. for i was an artist, you see, and every artist wants to make other people see what he sees. that was why i had painted my pictures. but how could i make people hear what i heard? so i told the old priest about it, and he said that, if i were a real artist, the power would come back to me somehow. 'wait a little,' he said, 'stay a little longer. you've hardly begun yet to hear for yourself.'" he paused again and lit his pipe. "and at last it came to me," he said. "hold my hand." marian slipped her hand into his. "now close your eyes," he told her, "and listen." for a moment she could hear nothing but a ploughman shouting to his horses and the tap-tapping of a woodpecker; but slowly as she listened sounds began to come to her, as of a hidden band far in the distance. presently they drew nearer, and at first they were confused, like hundreds of people gently humming through closed lips; but at last she began to recognize different notes, like tiny drums and flutes and fifes. all the time, too, close at hand, there was a faint persistent ringing of bells; and these were the anemones swaying on their stems; and the little trumpet-sounds came from the primroses. then there was a rough sort of scraping sound; and that was a mole, he said, burrowing in the earth two or three yards away. and there was a sound like a chant on one full note from a big field of grass just in front of the wood. those were the distincter notes; but there was a continuous sharp undertone, like millions of finger-tips tapping on stretched parchment; and those were the buds opening all along the hedges and upon the leaf-twigs up above them. but deeper than all, deeper and softer than the softest organ, there was a great sound; and that was the sap, he told her, rising like a flood in all things living for miles around them. then she opened her eyes and dropped his hand, and it was as if she had suddenly become almost deaf. she lifted her fingers and put them in her ears. "it's as if they were stopped up," she said. "hold my hand again." but he turned and smiled at her. "are you still unhappy?" he asked. marian shook her head. "no, not now," she answered. "that's right," he said. "the world's much too good a place for a little girl like you to be unhappy in." then he held her hand again, and as the sounds of the world came back to her there happened the oddest thing of all. for now there came other sounds, clearer and nearer, lighter than breath and closer than her heart. they said "marian" to her, "marian, marian"; and the strange thing was that she seemed to remember them--just as if their names were on the tip of her tongue, like the names of old friends, stupidly forgotten. "that's what they are," he said. "they're the voices of the friends that we left behind us when we were born. whenever we go back, and whenever we have a birthday, they come flocking down to greet us." he stood up and stretched himself, and marian rose to her feet. "so you've had a party," he said, "after all." could we, down the road to school, run but with undeafened ears, then what joy in this sweet spring just to hear the gardens sing, scilla with her drooping bells playing her enchanted peal, primrose with his golden throat shouting his triumphant note. the sorrowful picture [illustration: porto blanco] xii the sorrowful picture marian never told anybody, not even gwendolen, about that strange party of hers under the elm-tree; and the blind painter faithfully promised that he would keep it a secret too. but a fortnight later, when the doctor said that it was quite safe, she introduced him to gwendolen; and gwendolen was rather excited, because he was the very man who had painted her favourite picture. this was a picture, only half finished, that her aunt had bought when gwendolen was quite little and when she used to play games all by herself in the big house in bellington square. one of these games was a queer sort of game, in which she would shut herself up in a room, and imagine herself climbing into the pictures on the wall and having adventures with the people inside them. if the picture had a tower in it, she would climb up the tower and peep down over the other side; or if there were ships in it she would go on board and talk to the sailors down below. but her favourite picture she called the "sorrowful picture," because though she loved it, it made her feel sad. it was really little more than a sketch, rapidly painted in a few strokes, and gwendolen's aunt had only bought it because she had been told that the artist was famous. but it was full of sunlight, of a hot, foreign sunlight, through which an old house had stared at the painter, a yellow-walled house with latticed windows and violet shadows under its broken roof. in a crooked pot near the front door a dead palm stretched its withered fingers; and the front door itself was a cave of darkness, with a jutting eave above it like a frowning eyebrow. but what made it so sorrowful, at any rate to gwendolen, was a little window up in the right-hand corner--an unlatticed window, as dark as the front door, but with a different sort of darkness. for the darkness of the front door was an angry darkness. when gwendolen was little, it had made her feel frightened. but the darkness of the window was like a wound. she wanted to kiss it and make it well. after she had played with the other pictures, and climbed the mountains in them, and gone paddling in the streams, she always came to this one and stood on its threshold and wondered why it was so different from the others. she never played with it. it seemed too real. "i believe there's something sad," she said, "that the window wants to tell me." but she loved it too, better than all the other pictures, because nobody else seemed to understand it; and when her aunt had married captain jeremy, and they had left bellington square, and most of the other pictures had been sold, her aunt had allowed her to take this one with her and hang it in her bedroom in the old farmhouse. so she was rather excited when marian introduced her to the blind painter; and when he came to tea with them in the middle of april she took him upstairs and told him all about it, because, of course, he could no longer see it. but he couldn't remember it, or even where he had painted it, though there was a date on it which showed that it was six years old, because that was a year, he said, in which he was travelling all over the world and making little sketches almost every day. but he didn't laugh at her as her nurse had done, because pictures, he said, were queer things; and nothing was more likely than that there should be something in this one that only gwendolen could feel. "you see, a picture," he said, "if you look at it properly, is just like a conversation painted on canvas; and you can see what the artist said to his subject as well as what his subject said to him. of course, in most pictures, just as in most conversations, all that happened is something like this: 'good morning,' said the artist, 'fine weather we're having,' and whatever he was painting just nodded its head. that's because he was really thinking about something else--his indigestion or the money that he hoped to make; and nobody ever tells their inmost thoughts to people who talk to them like that. but if he has tried to be a real artist, loving and understanding, and not thinking about himself at all, the hills and the trees, or whatever he was painting, have begun to tell him all about themselves. they've swopped secrets with him just like old friends; and there they are for you to see. sometimes they have even told him things that he didn't understand himself. but he has painted them so faithfully that other people have; and that's the most wonderful thing that can happen to an artist--better than finding a hundred pounds." he lit a cigarette. "and i shouldn't be surprised," he said, "if that little window wasn't giving me a message. only it was a message that i never understood; and perhaps gwendolen does." but gwendolen shook her head. "not very well," she said. "i only know that it makes me feel sad." and then gwendolen's aunt came to tell them that tea was ready, and in a couple of minutes they had forgotten all about the picture; and a quarter of an hour later they forgot it still more, for in came captain jeremy and lancelot, the bosun's mate. they were both in high spirits, because they had had an order to put to sea again for porto blanco, to fetch a cargo of fruit from the gulf of oranges, on the shores of which porto blanco was the principal town. "a matter of three months," said captain jeremy, "out and home." he gave marian a kiss and pulled gwendolen's pigtail. "you'd better come with us. what do you say, lancelot? or do you think they'd bring us bad luck?" but lancelot only grinned and made a husky noise--not because he was naturally shy, but because he was always afraid of having tea in the drawing-room, in case he should spill something on the carpet. he would much have preferred, in fact, to have tea in the kitchen with mrs robertson, the housekeeper, because he was very fond of mrs robertson, and wanted to marry her, and had told her so several times. but mrs robertson couldn't make up her mind. her first husband had been rather a nuisance; and though he had been dead for nine and a half years, she was still a little doubtful about taking a second one. but marian and gwendolen couldn't help jumping up and down, and the blind painter said that they ought to go, and captain jeremy promised to go round to peter street and see what marian's mother had to say about it. "but you'll have to talk to her," said marian, "through the window, because she's still nursing cuthbert." "then that's all the more reason," said captain jeremy, "why she'll be glad to let you go." then he asked the blind painter if he would like to come as well, but he shook his head and said that he would be unable to, though he had several times visited the gulf of oranges, and would much have liked to go there once more. but after a little persuasion marian's mother said that marian could go if gwendolen went; and a week later they were climbing on board the schooner as she lay at anchor in lullington bay. that was the first time that marian had been aboard her, and everything seemed strange to her, smelling so fresh and salt. but of course gwendolen knew all about the ship, and soon she was busy taking marian round. she showed her the big hold, dark and empty, in which they would bring back the cases of fruit, and the cook's galley, and the sailors' bunks, and captain jeremy's neat little cabin. and then, just after tea, the anchor was pulled up, and the sails were shaken out, and the wind began to fill them; and presently there were little waves slapping against the bow, and the land was fading into the dusk behind them. both of them were sea-sick during the night, and felt rather queer most of the next day. but the day after that they were as hungry as they could be, and were soon on deck talking to the sailors. most of these were the same sailors that had been to monkey island, and so gwendolen knew them already; and she introduced marian to them, who very soon felt as if they had been friends of hers all her life. but lancelot was her favourite, just as he was gwendolen's, and when he was off duty and smoking his pipe, they would sit on either side of him and listen to his stories as the deck beneath them rose and fell. as for porto blanco and the gulf of oranges, he had been there more times, he said, than he could remember; and once he had been stranded there for such a long time that he had learned to talk the language as well as any of the inhabitants. "but it's a queer place," he said, "and they're queer people, sort of half-way between black and white, and the sun's in the bones of them, and half the time they're fighting, and the other half they're snoozing in the shadders." but for the most part, he said, they were kindly people and very indulgent to each other's faults; and the women all went barefooted and smoked cigarettes, and the men sang love-songs together when they weren't quarrelling. "and up in the hills," said lancelot, "back of the town, you can see such flowers as you never saw anywhere, and great big oranges hanging off of the trees, and corn-cobs taller than your head. and back of the orange-trees there's great big forests, full of little injuns with long beards, and nasty yeller snakes, and birds of paradise, and parrots and monkeys and inji-rubber trees," and sometimes he would go on talking till they forgot all about supper-time, and the stars would open above their heads, and far away, perhaps, like a little chain of beads, they would see the port-lights of some great liner. the wind held so fair that by the end of a month they were nearly four thousand miles from home, and a week later when they came on deck they found the sea dotted with little islands. so lovely were they in their wet colours that they might have been enamelled there during the night, and marian and gwendolen almost gasped with joy as the ship slid past them in the early morning. for a long time now the weather had been so hot that awnings had been stretched over the deck; and marian and gwendolen wore as little as they could--the thinnest of white jerseys and the shortest of skirts. for nearly three weeks they had worn no shoes or stockings, and their feet and legs were the colour of copper; and for two or three hours in the middle of the day captain jeremy had made them go to sleep. but to-day they were much too excited to stay in their hammocks; and presently, as they hung over the schooner's bow, they could see the horizon beginning to creep closer, and the hill-tops and forests of the mainland. the wind had dropped now, and the sea was like glass, and sometimes the ship scarcely seemed to move, but early in the afternoon they began to see the roofs of the town and the tower of the cathedral and the white-walled quay. slowly they drew nearer until they could see the people on the shore or lounging in the other ships at anchor in the harbour; and just before sunset they had come to their moorings and were lying securely against the quay. down in the cabin, captain jeremy was talking business with two of the fruit-merchants--dark-skinned men in white linen suits, smoking pale-coloured long cigars. but marian and gwendolen stayed up on deck, watching the night coming down like a shutter, and the lamps beginning to shine in the crooked streets and behind the windows of the houses. now that it was cooler the people were taking the air, and gaily-dressed women sauntered up and down; and in front of a cafe, where there were a lot of little tables, some men were singing and playing guitars. it was all so strange, it was like being in a theatre, and the air was full of spice-scents and the scent of oranges; and it was hard to believe that they were even in the same world with school and peter street and fairbarrow down. but next morning it all seemed more real again, and captain jeremy took them round the town; and they had lunch with one of the fruit-merchants in a low-walled house built round a courtyard. after lunch they slept in long armchairs, and when they woke up queer sorts of drinks were brought to them; and then it was time to go back to the ship again and watch the cases of fruit being packed in the hold. after a day or two, when they had learned their way about, captain jeremy let them go ashore alone; and by the end of the week they had explored every corner of the town, and even gone for walks along the country roads. some of these were broad roads leading to other towns, but most of them became mule-tracks after a mile or two; and they seldom went very far up these because of the heat, which was greater then even the inhabitants had ever known. day after day, through the still air, the great sun emptied itself into the town; and the streets cracked, and the barometer fell, and captain jeremy looked anxiously at the weather; and it was upon the hottest day of all--the day before they were leaving--that gwendolen suddenly gripped marian's arm. it was early in the morning, before the sun was at its steepest, and they had wandered past the cathedral into the outskirts of the town, where a little track between two high garden walls had tempted them to explore it. it had led them into a sort of garden, untidy and deserted, and on the other side of this there stood a house--a yellow-walled house with latticed windows and violet shadows under its broken roof. beside the front door stood a crooked pot, and the front door itself was a cave of darkness, and up in the right-hand corner, under the roof, was a little window standing open. gwendolen found herself shaking all over. "why, it's the very house," she said, "of the sorrowful picture." and so it was, and as they stood looking up at it, it seemed more sorrowful to gwendolen than ever. for there was the little window almost beseeching her in actual words to go and comfort it; and she even had a feeling that for all these years it had been crying in vain to her across half the world. but there was the front door too, dark with anger, and before they could move a man came out of it. he was a big man with a fat face, and he stood blinking for a moment in the sunshine; and then they saw him frown as he caught sight of them; and he shouted words at them that they didn't understand. but it was evident that he wanted them to go away, and they saw him touch a knife that he wore in his belt; and so they ran back again up the little track, and there in the street they met lancelot. he was grinning as usual, and he looked so big and strong that they could almost have hugged him on the spot; but his face grew serious when they told him what had happened, and he stroked his chin and became thoughtful. "well, it's a good thing," he said, "that you come away. in this here town you have to be careful. but i'll have a turn round and see if i can find anything out about this here house and the feller as lives in it." then he mopped his face and looked at the sky and told them to go back again to the ship; and a couple of hours later he came aboard and beckoned them to talk to him while he smoked his pipe. everything was ready now for the ship to sail next morning, and most of the other sailors were asleep, and captain jeremy had gone to lunch again with the fruit-merchant in the town. "well, this here feller," said lancelot, "seems a queer sort of cove, with a bad name, and he lives all alone; and his wife ran away from him six years ago, taking their only little girl along with her. but there's some folks believe that he went after her and killed her--anyway, she was found dead in the forest--but what happened to pepita, who was three years old at the time, nobody knows, for she's never been seen." then he smoked his pipe for a minute. "but i tell you what," he said. "he's pretty sure to be asleep just now. and if you like i'll go and have a look at the house, and see what there is to it, and come and tell you." "but i must come too," said gwendolen. "i really must." "and so must i," said marian. "we must both come," and after a while they persuaded him to take them, and they set off again through the town. it was now so hot that it seemed as if the very earth must begin to melt and crumble away; and when they came to the house there were no signs of life--there was only that little window, dark and aching. for a moment they stood listening at the front door, and then they cautiously stepped inside; and there, in a lower room, asleep on the floor, they saw the big man with the fat face. then they stole upstairs until they came to the little room under the roof to which the window belonged; and then, as they pushed the door open, the tears sprang to their eyes, and lancelot swore a great oath. for there they saw, tied to a staple in the wall, a little girl of about nine years old, ragged and scarred, with timid dark eyes and cheeks like a flower that has never seen the sun. tied across her mouth was a dirty cloth, and when she first saw them she shrank away; but as gwendolen went up to her with outstretched arms, her eyes widened in sheer astonishment. then lancelot stooped and cut the rope that bound her, and pulled away the cloth that was gagging her mouth; and then he jumped round just as the little girl's father came stumbling fiercely into the room. gwendolen heard him shouting something and using the word pepita; and as she clasped the little girl in her arms she knew why it was that all these years the sorrowful picture seemed to have been calling to her. it was because the little girl's pain and longing for freedom had somehow stolen into the painter's brush. then she saw lancelot's fist shoot out like a bullet, and pepita's father tumble to the floor; and then lancelot shouted to them to hurry away, and picking up pepita, he ran down the stairs. in less than a minute they were in the little track between the high garden walls; and in a few seconds more they were out in the street, and then a most strange and awful thing happened. for marian stopped short and pointed with her finger. "why, what's the matter," she cried, "with the cathedral tower?" they all stared at it, and saw it rock to and fro; and then lancelot swung round toward the open country. "run for your lives," he said, and then, as they followed him, they felt the ground beneath them rise and fall. then they heard a crash, and people shouting, and then all was still again, and they stopped running. lancelot wiped his forehead. "well, now you know," he said, "what an earthquake's like. lucky it wasn't a worse one." and there was the cathedral tower still standing on its foundations, but when they looked for pepita's house it had fallen down like a pack of cards, a fitting grave for pepita's father. for they heard in the evening that he had been killed; and pepita afterward told them how he had killed her mother, and how he had kept her for all those years tied to the wall in that dark upper room. as for captain jeremy, he was so rejoiced at seeing marian and gwendolen safe that he told lancelot he would have forgiven him if he had brought fifty pepitas on board. lancelot was very pleased about that, because, in his heart of hearts, he knew that he ought never to have let them come with him. but, as he told gwendolen, all was well that ended well, and he hoped that she would allow him to take care of pepita. gwendolen wasn't quite sure at first, but when they arrived home her aunt and mrs robertson thought it a good idea. for mrs robertson had made up her mind to marry lancelot, and pepita was just the little girl, she said, that she had always wanted. we're going the way that drake went, we shall see what drake's men saw, a coppery curly cobra-snake, and a scarlet-cloaked macaw. for we're going the way that drake went, we're taking the jungle trail, and we'll bring you a dark-eyed damsel home, and a cock with a golden tail. the moon-boy's friend [illustration: the lagoon] xiii the moon-boy's friend it was about a week after marian and gwendolen had arrived home from porto blanco that uncle joe suddenly asked cuthbert and doris to spend a fortnight with him at redington-on-sea. it was not the sort of town that uncle joe liked, because it was full of big houses and glittering hotels; and most of the people in it wore expensive clothes, and it had a long pier, with a theatre at the end. but he always went there in the first week of august, when mr parker took his annual holiday, so that he could visit an old friend of his, who had lodgings on the marine parade. this old friend was called colonel stookley, and he had lost both his legs as the result of wounds; and uncle joe generally took rooms next door and played chess with him every evening. he had been very brave, but was now rather wheezy, besides having something wrong with his liver; and as he had lost most of his friends he was always glad to see uncle joe. generally uncle joe went to see him alone, so that he could be with him most of the day; but this year he thought that cuthbert needed a change, and he asked doris, because marian had just had a voyage. at first they were afraid that they would have to take their best clothes, but uncle joe said that he didn't mind. so long as they brushed their teeth every day they could wear what they liked, he said, and they could paddle and swim as much as they pleased. so they met uncle joe at the station at eleven o'clock on the rd of august, and a couple of hours later they were having lunch with him in the big dining-car of the express. through the windows, as they rocked along, trying their best not to spill their soup, they could see the harvesters at work in the fields, and ribbons of flowers as they crashed through the little stations; and a couple of hours after that, where some hills had broken apart, doris was the first of them to see a stitch of blue; and by half-past four they were talking to the landlady of number marine parade. this was next door to where colonel stookley lodged, and the landlady's name was mrs bodkin; and she gave doris a kiss, and said that she was tall for her age and that cuthbert's cheeks would soon have some roses in them. then she showed them their bedrooms, which were at the top of the house, looking out to sea over the esplanade; and they found that they could talk to each other out of the windows and watch the people in the gardens below. these were very trim gardens, like the garden in bellington square, separated by railings from the flagged esplanade; and beyond the esplanade there were terraces of pebbles, crumbling into a stretch of hard, wet sand. as it was tea-time there were not many people about; but by six o'clock there were people everywhere--people in the gardens, listening to the band, and looking sideways at each other's clothes; people on the esplanade, sauntering up and down, and saying how-do-you-do to their friends; people on the pier staring through telescopes, and people on the beach reading magazines, and people on the sands building castles or paddling with their children on the fringe of the sea. the tide was so low that nobody was bathing, and weed-capped rocks stood out of the water; and after they had paddled a little doris suggested that they should go and listen to the pierrots. this was the hour--just before the children's bedtime, and before the grown-up people went home to dinner--when the pierrots and beach-entertainers were all at their busiest, trying to earn money. upon a wooden platform, with three chairs and a piano, two men and two girls were singing and dancing; and a hundred yards away from them, on a similar sort of stand, there were three banjo-players with blackened faces. but there were such crowds round each of these platforms that cuthbert and doris couldn't get near them; and there was a conjurer, a little farther on, who seemed to be even more popular. they watched him for a minute or two, and saw the people raining pennies on him, but they were too far away to be able to see his tricks; and then they saw a clown, farther along still, turning somersaults on the sand. there were a few children round him, some of them with nurses, but the people on the esplanade were taking very little notice of him; and by the time that cuthbert and doris reached him, he had stopped somersaulting and was wiping his forehead. standing near him, dressed like a gipsy, was a woman, who was evidently his wife, and sitting on the sand was a queer-looking boy about fourteen who seemed to be their son. the clown was dressed in a baggy sort of smock, tied round his ankles with pink ribbon, and his face was white, with a crimson diamond painted on the middle of each cheek. his lips had been coloured to make them seem smiling, and he wore a wig of carroty hair, but his eyes were tired, and underneath his wig they could see some of his own hair, which was quite grey. then his wife brought a little box round, but none of the children seemed to have any pennies, and the two or three grown-up people who had been watching the performance turned aside without giving anything. cuthbert and doris heard one of them say that it was a rotten show and not worth a farthing; and then the old clown began to sing a song about a cheese that climbed out of the window. some of the nurses laughed a little, but the children didn't understand it, and cuthbert and doris thought it rather stupid, but the woman had noticed them and brought them the box, and they each put a penny in it, though they didn't much want to. then the old clown and his wife pretended to have a quarrel, and she kept knocking him down with an umbrella; but what interested them most was the queer-looking boy, who kept laughing to himself and playing with his fingers. once or twice he got up and went straying among the audience, and they could see his mother watching him rather anxiously; and presently he came and talked to them and told them that he was a moon-boy and that his name was albert hezekiah. it was now nearly seven, and the tide was coming in, and there was nobody left to watch the old clown, so his wife stopped hitting him with the umbrella and helped him on with a shabby blue overcoat. then they emptied the pennies out of the box, and the old clown counted them in the palm of his hand. "ten and a half," he said, "not much of a catch, old lady," and then they looked round for albert hezekiah. he was still talking to cuthbert and doris, and the old clown and his wife came up to them. the woman spoke to doris. "don't you be frightened," she said, and the old clown tapped his forehead. "he's a little bit touched," he said, "that's all, my dear. but he's a good lad and he's quite harmless." then they said good-night, and the moon-boy shook hands with them and told them that he liked them, because they had nice faces; and two or three times during the next few days they saw him playing about near his father and mother. then one day they saw him alone, and he told them that his father was ill in bed, and that his mother had sent for the doctor, and that they had no money to pay the rent with. it seemed rather funny to think of a clown being ill, but doris and cuthbert each gave him sixpence, and he ran off singing, and they didn't see him again till the last day of their holiday. this was a bright hot day, and they had bathed in the morning, and then mrs bodkin had cut them some sandwiches, and they had had their lunch on the top of capstan beacon, which was a high hill about five miles away. then they had walked inland and had tea at a little village; and it was toward dusk, just as they were reaching the town, that they saw the moon-boy in the middle of a group of boys on a piece of waste land near the gas-works. he was waving his arms and looking rather bewildered, and the other boys were mocking him and singing a sort of song, "loony, loony, moon-boy; loony, loony, loo"; and when they came nearer they saw that he was crying, and that one of the bigger boys was throwing stones at him. doris was so angry that she could hardly speak, but she caught hold of the boy who was throwing stones, and when he tried to hit her she slapped his face and told him that he was the biggest coward that she had ever seen. then he tried to hit her again, but cuthbert jumped in front of her, and after a minute or two cuthbert knocked him down; and then the other boys ran away, after throwing stones at them and calling them names. "little beasts," said doris, "look what they've done," and cuthbert saw that they had cut the moon-boy's cheek. so doris took out her handkerchief and stopped the bleeding, and then they both took the moon-boy home. he was so excited at first that he lost the way, but at last he stopped in front of a little house; and in a back room they found the old clown, sitting up in bed and trying to shave himself. his wife was at the fireplace, frying some fish; and when they heard what had happened to their son, they shook hands with cuthbert and doris and thanked them over and over again. "luck's against us, you see," said the old clown. "we're getting past work, and the people won't laugh at us. and this here boy of ours is all that we have, and there's nobody else to look after him." "excepting one," said the moon-boy, and the old clown began to laugh. "that's one of his crazes," he said. "he says that he has a friend who comes and talks to him once a week." "out of the sea," said the boy. "he comes out of the sea. i never see him except by the sea." "nor there either," said his mother, "if the truth was known." but when cuthbert and doris said good-bye the moon-boy followed them into the street and began speaking to them in a whisper. "i tell you what," he said. "if you'll meet me to-night at ten o'clock just by the lighthouse i'll show him to you, if you'll promise not to laugh. because if you laugh, he won't come." for a moment they hesitated because they were pretty sure that uncle joe wouldn't allow it; but then they decided that they needn't ask him, as he would be sure to be playing chess with colonel stookley. so they promised to be there, though they thought it very likely that the moon-boy wouldn't come; and just before ten they were on the little path that led from the town toward the lighthouse. this was about a mile from the end of the esplanade, under a great cliff called gannet head, and at low tide it was possible to reach the lighthouse by climbing over some fifty yards of rocks. but the tide was high to-night, and the little path that slanted down across the face of the cliff came to an end upon a slab of rock not more than a foot above the water. there was no moon, but the stars were so bright that the air was full of a sort of sparkle; and the sea was so still that the water beneath them hardly seemed to rise and fall. _clup, clup_ it went, with a lazy sort of sticky sound, like a piece of gum-paper flapping against a post, and then slowly becoming unstuck again before doing it all once more. at first they could see nobody, but as they stood looking about them they heard a soft whistle a little farther on; and there was the moon-boy, with his arms round his knees, squatting on another ledge of rock. this was broader and flatter than the one at the bottom of the path, and a little higher above the water; and cuthbert and doris were soon sitting beside him and wondering what was going to happen. "where's your friend?" asked cuthbert. the moon-boy touched his lips. "_h'shh_," he said. "he'll be here in a minute. he was here half an hour ago, and i told him all about you." "but where's he gone?" said doris. the moon-boy shook his head. "i don't know," he said. "he might be anywhere. he spends his life pulling children out of the water. but nobody ever sees him except me." doris suddenly felt her heart beginning to beat quicker. "why, i believe i know him!" she said. "is he a saint?" the moon-boy nodded. "yes, he's a patron saint," he said. "he's the patron saint of water." "then i do know him," said doris. "at least, i've heard of him, and i've met his brother, st uncus." "this one's st william," said the moon-boy, "but he's generally known as fat bill." and then they heard a pant, and there, sitting beside them, was an enormous man with a red face. like his brother, he was nearly bald, but he was about seven times as large, and he had blue eyes and a double chin, and there was a big landing-net in his right hand. "good evening," he said, "pleased to meet you. i've heard about the girl of you from my brother uncus. and the boy of you i saw last year, pulling a little nipper out of a stream." cuthbert blushed. "that was young liz," he said, "beardy ned's kid, but it was quite easy." "maybe it was," said fat bill, "but, as it happened, you really helped to save two nippers. you see, there was a kid, just at the same moment, fell into a lagoon off hotoneeta." "what's hotoneeta?" asked cuthbert. "bit of an island," he said, "a hundred miles south of the equator." he cleared his throat. "well, i couldn't save 'em both, because i was pulling a boy out of lake windermere; and i was just going for liz when i saw that you were after her, so that i was able to land blossom-blossom just in time." "was that her name?" asked doris. fat bill nodded. "that's the english of it," he said. "but her people are savages." then he disappeared for a moment, and there was nothing but the starlight and the _clup, clup_ of the water; and it was while he was gone that there came into doris's mind a wild but just possible idea. she turned to cuthbert. "i tell you what," she said. "why shouldn't he take us to hotoneeta? i expect he could somehow, if he really wanted to; and you _did_ help to save blossom-blossom." cuthbert considered. "well, of course he _might_," he said, and then fat bill was sitting beside them again. "just been to ohio," he said, "to a place called columbus--kid fell into a lake there--nobody by." he laid down his landing-net and rubbed his hands. "it's a hard life," he said, "being a saint." but he looked so comfortable, sitting on the rock, with his fat thighs spread out beneath him, that doris was almost sure that he wouldn't mind, and so she asked him if he would take them. he stroked his chin for a moment and looked at her thoughtfully. "well, of course i _could_," he said, "though it would be rather irregular. but albert hezekiah here would have to look after my landing-net, because i've only got two hands." so they all three of them looked at the moon-boy, and he promised to take care of the landing-net; and then fat bill held out his hands, and cuthbert and doris each took one of them. the moment they did so they were, of course, in in-between land, because that was where fat bill and his brother lived; and the rocks looked ghostly, just like dream-rocks, and they could see the moon-boy's soul, like a tiny flame. but the next moment they were alone on a shore of the whitest sand that they had ever seen, and the dawn was coming up over an enormous sea, stiller than stillness and breathlessly blue. at their feet lay a shallow lagoon--or at least it looked shallow--trembling with colour; and strange-petalled weeds swung to and fro in it, and the silver-scaled fishes slid between them. it was so hot that they wanted to throw their clothes away, and the jungle behind them was full of odours--sleepy odours, like the odours of a medicine-chest--and nodding, red-lipped flowers. leading from the shore, between the walls of the jungle, was a narrow path of grass and sand; and standing in the middle of it, still as an idol, was a little dark-brown naked girl. fat bill had gone, but they knew that it was blossom-blossom, and then she gave a yell and fled from sight; and cuthbert and doris couldn't help laughing as they began to explore the rim of the lagoon. but a minute or two later, as they were kneeling on the shore and peering down into that wonderful water, something happened that made them think of blossom-blossom in rather a different sort of way. for just as doris had made up her mind to take off her shoes and stockings, they heard a little sound, and the next moment a spear was quivering in the sand between them. they sprang to their feet just in time to avoid another one and to see a man crouching at the edge of the jungle; and then they were snatched up, and there they were on the rock again, with gannet head towering above them. the moon-boy was laughing, but fat bill looked serious. "narrow squeak," he said. "that was blossom-blossom's father. i thought he was asleep in his hut." then he shook hands with them and said good-bye, and they climbed up the path again and went home to bed; and when uncle joe came up to look at them, they confessed to him what they had been doing. he was rather angry, of course, but he didn't laugh at them, and as for fat bill, he said that he had heard of him; and as for the old clown, he promised to see what he could do for him before they left the town next morning. "but don't you think it was rough," said cuthbert, "after i had helped to save blossom-blossom, to have her father throwing spears at me?" but that was just the sort of thing, said uncle joe, that saviours had to be prepared for. the candle's finger shakes. my story's done. "no more," says father time, "or shall we say just one?" the christmas tree [illustration: still talking] xiv the christmas tree the worst of discovering anybody like fat bill at the very beginning of the summer holidays is that it makes the rest of the holidays seem a little dull; and that was just what cuthbert and doris felt. so they were really rather glad when the winter term at school began; and so were gwendolen and marian, who hadn't been to school since the spring. it was an important term, too, for they were all moved up; and marian had to buy her first hockey-stick; and doris and gwendolen began to learn latin; and cuthbert's homework became really unbearable. but he managed to survive, and they were all so busy that the term was over almost before it had begun; and here was christmas close at hand again, and everybody rushing about buying presents. as for cuthbert and marian, they had so much to do in the three or four days before christmas that they were half afraid they would never be able to do it, because on christmas eve they were going to have a party. it was to be rather a special party, because neither cuthbert nor marian had been able that year to have a birthday party; and all the people that they had invited had sent replies saying that they were coming. old miss hubbard was coming, and so was uncle joe, and mr parker was coming with him; and doris's mummy was coming with doris and her five brothers; and beardy ned was bringing little liz. then there was gwendolen, of course, who was coming too, with her aunt and captain jeremy; and lancelot and mrs robertson were bringing pepita; and percy the gamekeeper's son was bringing agnes. just at the last minute, too, they had a letter from the blind painter saying that he was bringing lord barrington. and mr and mrs williams were coming, and so was mummy's nurney, and so was edward goldsmith. "goodness knows," said mummy, "where we shall put them all. i hope they won't mind sitting on the floor." but cuthbert and marian said that it would be all right, and that they would have the christmas tree in the hall. "then we can have the doors open," said cuthbert, "and people can sit on the stairs; and marian and i will make the paper festoons." so mummy and mummy's nurney and the cook spent hours and hours making cakes and pastries; and just as it seemed as if they would never be ready, they suddenly found that there was nothing to do except to keep a lookout for old jacob parsley, who came every year selling christmas trees. that was on the morning of the rd of december, with a fine rain falling outside; and as they sat at the window both cuthbert and marian felt a little stale and out of temper. in spite of all the excitements of the term and the preparations for the party, it suddenly seemed to them a very long time since they had had a real proper adventure. "i shouldn't be surprised," said marian, "if we never have another." "perhaps we shan't," said cuthbert, "but it'll be an awful bore," and then, at that very moment, they heard a familiar voice; and there was jacob parsley in the street below. where he came from nobody knew; but every year on the rd of december he limped into the town with his old white horse and a ramshackle cart full of christmas trees. there they were, year after year, shining and crisp and neatly potted; and people used to say that he had dug them up at night from rich men's plantations in other parts of the country. as for himself, he was a red-faced old man, with a stubbly grey beard and a scar on his chin, and a pair of bright eyes that used to work separately, so that nobody could tell which he was looking with. "ker-rismus trees," he would shout, "all in per-hots. all in per-hots, ker-rismus-trees," and whenever he sold one he would spit in the road, and wish the buyer the compliments of the season. also, if there were any change he would generally try to keep it, to buy some cough mixture, he would explain, for his bronchial tubes; and most people let him, because they were afraid that he would slue one of his eyes round and pierce their hearts with a reproachful glance. but to-day for the first time his cart seemed empty, though he was still shouting; and when they ran downstairs and opened the front door they saw that he had only one tree left. it was a queer little tree with silvery-grey leaves; and that was the reason, he said, why nobody had bought it. all the others he had sold at once--almost as soon as he had entered the town. "wish i'd 'ad more," he said, "but this here tree, it ain't folk's notion of a ker-rismus tree. not but what it ain't a good tree, though it's a little 'un, and the feller i bought it off a queer sort of feller." he stood looking at it, or as nearly looking at it as he ever seemed to look at anything; and then he coughed for rather a long time and hit himself on the chest and wished them a happy christmas. "it's this here rain," he said. "it gets into the bronchial tubes. five shillings--that's all i'll ask you for it. and it's a good tree. you can take my word for it. and them as buys it won't regret it." cuthbert and marian touched its leaves. just behind them stood their guardian angels. even more intently than cuthbert and marian they bent their gaze on the little tree. "but what kind of a tree is it?" asked cuthbert. jacob spat in the road. "well, they tell me," he said, "as it's a olive. and they tell me as it's the seedling of the great-great-grandson of the first ker-rismus tree of all." he spat in the road again. "aye, of the very tree," he said, "as held love's innocence atween two thieves." "i like the leaves of it," said marian. "it's got wonderful leaves." the two angels drew a little closer. the old horse began to shake his blinkers. so they bought the tree and carried it indoors. round the pot they bound some scarlet paper, and round the paper they twined a wreath of holly; and they placed the tree on a little table near the foot of the stairs in the front hall. said cuthbert's angel, "this is a queer go." marian's angel smiled as he lit his evening pipe. "and they were just grumbling," he said, "because they never had any adventures. what do you suppose will happen when the guests have assembled?" but cuthbert's angel shook his head. "that's hard to tell," he said. "there's no precedent. not since the great day has a tree of that line ever been used as a children's christmas tree." the rain had stopped by then and the moon was shining, and soon after midnight the thermometer fell. a hoar frost crept over the roof-tops. the sun's rim rose out of a well of vapour. at eleven o'clock cuthbert went to play football, and marian and doris went to see gwendolen. the sun had climbed free by then, but the wind was in the north, and as the day went on the frost deepened. during the afternoon the children went to some friends' houses to borrow chairs for the party. when they came back mummy was stooping over the christmas-tree, fixing candles to its slender twigs. in her eyes there was a curious look. cuthbert kissed her and asked her what was the matter. "nothing," said mummy, "but wouldn't it be wonderful if what jacob said about this tree were true?" marian bent her lips to one of the leaves. "i believe it is," she said. "it makes me feel funny." old mother hubbard was the first guest to come, and she brought a hamper with her full of presents. some of them were new, but some of them were trinkets that she had kept ever since she was a girl. "and now i want to give them away," she said, "because for fifty years i have never known what giving was like." soon after that came uncle joe, driving in his little pony-cart with mr parker; and mr parker took the pony-cart to the stables at the end of the street. uncle joe was wearing an overcoat, with poacher's pockets in its lining; and the pockets were bulging with middling-sized parcels to be placed on the floor round the christmas tree. then came captain jeremy and gwendolen and gwendolen's aunt, with the frosty air still in their faces; and lancelot and mrs robertson brought pepita, well wrapped up and a little shy. then a great car hummed down the street bringing lord barrington and the blind painter, with mr and mrs williams in their sunday clothes, and a big round cheese that they had brought for a present. percy, their son, and his sweetheart agnes were the next to knock at the front door; and they had hardly stepped inside before doris and her mummy arrived with the five boys. then came edward, looking very smart, with a hot-house flower in his button-hole; and the last to appear was beardy ned, as shabby as usual, with liz on his shoulder. most of the others were having tea by now round the dining-room table, or in the drawing-room, or sitting on the stairs, or standing in the hall, or leaning against the banisters. and there, in the middle of them, still unlit and waiting till the feasting should be over, stood the little olive tree, hushed and inconspicuous, with the scarlet paper round its pot. mr parker came back from the stables. "rough weather," he said, "in the baltic. that's a rum-looking tree you've got for a christmas tree," and the blind painter heard him and turned round. "where is it?" he asked. "will you take me to it?" and marian led him to the little table. he bent his head for a moment, and there crept into his eyes the same odd look that marian had seen in mummy's. said cuthbert's angel, "he's beginning to hear something. what do you suppose will happen when they have lit the candles?" but marian's angel shook his head. "the others will hear nothing," he said. "but will they see?" said doris's angel, "can they see and live?" "look," said gwendolen's angel. "they're lighting the candles." and it was just at that moment that a young man, shabbier even than beardy ned, turned into peter street. but for his presence the street was empty. doris's angel was the first to see him. he lifted his head and spoke a name, and slowly the others filed out after him. down the front steps and along the pavement they made a lane of angels. but the door was shut, and deep in their hearts was the dreadful fear that it mightn't be opened. then uncle joe struck another match and lit the last candle on the tree, and marian's daddy picked up one of the parcels and turned it over to find the name on it. smiling in her chair, old miss hubbard envied the luckier women who had had children. half in shadow, between marian and gwendolen, stood lord barrington with his hawk-like face. there came a knock at the front door. cuthbert, who was nearest to it, turned and opened it. he saw a young man in shabby clothes, and there was no beauty in him that he should desire him. he stood there smiling in the outside darkness. "may i come in?" he asked, and cuthbert changed his mind. everything beautiful that he had ever seen shone into his heart from the young man's eyes. "yes, rather," said cuthbert. "we're having a party." his eyes sought his mother's. "mummy, here's somebody else." everybody turned round as the young man entered. the candles on the olive tree shed their light upon him. all but the blind painter looked into his eyes. each saw the thing in them that he wanted most. marian and gwendolen and cuthbert and doris, not wanting anything in particular, only saw vaguely all that they hoped to be when they should have become grown-up men and women. so did edward and so did pepita; but christopher mark saw a celestial rabbit; and percy and agnes, holding each other's hand, saw the darlingest of babies. what beardy ned saw you can guess, and what lord barrington saw was truth; and the blind painter heard the angels singing the song that explains every other song. then the young man stooped for a moment over the little olive-tree. "make them happy," he said, and then he was gone; and though nobody saw them, of course, the guardian angels came and stood again in their accustomed places. marian turned impulsively to lord barrington. "oh, who was he?" she said. "tell me his name." lord barrington kissed her. "the loveliest present," he said, "that ever hung upon a tree." generously made available by internet archive (http://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the lovely original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/billybounce dens [illustration: _"why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said billy, excitedly_.--page . frontispiece.] billy bounce by w. w. denslow and dudley a. bragdon pictures by denslow g. w. dillingham co. publishers new york copyright by w. w. denslow all rights reserved. issued september, . to "pete" and "ponsie" list of chapters. chapter page i. dark plot of nickel plate, the polished villain ii. a jump to shamville iii. billy is captured by tomato iv. adventures in eggs-aggeration v. pease porridge hot vi. blind man's buff vii. the wishing bottle viii. gammon and spinach ix. in silly land x. sea urchin and ne'er do eel xi. in derby town xii. o'fudge xiii. billy plays a trick on borea xiv. king calcium and sterry optican xv. billy meets glucose xvi. in spookville xvii. in the volcano of vociferous xviii. the elusive bridge xix. in the dark, never was xx. the window of fear xxi. in the queen bee palace full page illustrations "_why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said billy, excitedly_. --page ....frontispiece. page "i _can't tell you where bogie man lives, it's against the rules_." _"now," said mr. gas, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling."_ "_come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce._" _billy never wanted for plenty to eat._ _"he-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the scally wags._ _"that's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman._ _the night mare and the dream food sprites._ _"get off, you're sinking us," cried billy._ _he saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears._ _"talking about me, were you?" said boreas, arriving in a swirl of snow._ _"me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the light."_ "_come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening._" _billy shot a blast of hot air from his pump full in bumbus's face._ "_allow me to present bogie man._" preface our purpose.--fun for the "children between the ages of one and one hundred." and incidentally--the elimination of deceit and gore in the telling: two elements that enter, we think, too vitally into the construction of most fairy tales. as to the moral.--that is not obtrusive. but if we can suggest to the children that fear alone can harm them through life's journey; and to silly nurses and thoughtless parents that the serious use of ghost stories, bogie men and bugbears of all kinds for the sheer purpose of frightening or making a child mind is positively wicked; we will admit that the tale has a moral. chapter i. dark plot of nickel plate, the polished villain. nickel plate, the polished villain, sat in his office in the north south corner of the first straight turning to the left of the castle in plotville. "gadzooks," exclaimed he with a heavy frown, "likewise pish tush! methinks i grow rusty--it is indeed a sad world when a real villain is reduced to chewing his moustache and biting his lips instead of feasting on the fat of the land." so saying he rose from his chair, smote himself heavily on the chest, carefully twirled his long black moustache and paced dejectedly up and down and across the room. "i wonder," he began, when ting-a-ling-a-ling the telephone rang. "hello," said he. "yes, this is nickel plate--oh! good morning, mr. bogie man--sh-h-h--don't speak so loudly. some one may see you.--no--bumbus has not returned with honey girl--i'm sorry, sir, but i expect him every minute. i'll let you know as soon as i can. oh! yes, he is to substitute glucose for honey girl and return here for further villainous orders. oh! a--excuse me, but can you help me with a little loan of--hello--hello--pshaw he's rung off. central--ting-a-ling-a-ling--central, won't you give me bogie man again, please--what! he's left orders not to connect us again--_well!_--good-bye." "now then what am i to do? i have just one nickel to my name and i can't spend that. if bumbus has failed i don't know what we shall do. a fine state of affairs for a man with an ossified conscience and a good digestion--ha-a-a, what is that?" "buzz-z-z," came a sound through the open window. "is that bumbus?" called nickel plate in a loud whisper. "i be," answered bumbus, climbing over the sill and darting to a chair. "why didn't you come in by the door?--you know how paneful a window is to me." "when _is_ a cow?" said bumbus, perching himself on the back of his chair and fanning himself with his foot. "sometimes, i think--" began nickel plate, angrily. "wrong answer; besides it's not strictly true," said bumbus, turning his large eyes here and there as he viewed his master. "a truce to foolishness," said nickel plate, "what news--but wait--" and taking two wads of cotton out of his pocket he stuffed them in two cracks in the wall--"walls have ears--we will stop them up--proceed." "honey girl has disappeared," whispered bumbus. "gone! and her golden comb?" "she has taken it with her." "gone," growled nickel plate--"but wait, i am not angry enough for a real villain"; lighting a match he quickly swallowed it. "ha, ha! now i am indeed a fire eater. gadzooks, varlet! and how did she escape us?" bumbus hung his head. "alas, sir, with much care did i carry glucose to the palace of the queen bee to substitute her for honey girl--dressed to look exactly like her, even to a gold-plated comb. i had bribed drone, the sentry, to admit us in the dead of night. creeping softly through the corridors of the castle, with glucose in my arms, i came to the door of honey girl. i opened the door and crept quietly into the room; all was still. i reached the dainty couch and found--" "yes," said nickel plate excitedly. "i found it empty; honey girl had fled." "sweet honey girl! alas, have we lost you? also which is more important, the reward for the abduction--but revenge, revenge!" hissed nickel plate. "what did you do with glucose?" "glucose has gone back to her work in the factory," said bumbus, "but will come back to us whenever we wish." "enough," said nickel plate, "bogie man must know of this at once. i will telephone him--but no, he has stopped the connection. will you take the message?" "sir, you forget." "too true, i need you here: a messenger." so saying nickel plate rang the messenger call and sat down to write the note of explanation to bogie man. "rat-a-tat-tat" came a knock on the door. "come in," said nickel plate in a deep bass voice, the one he kept for strangers. the door popped open and in ran--yes, he really ran--a messenger boy. and such a messenger boy, such bright, quick eyes, such a clean face and hands, not even a high water line on his neck and wrists, such twinkling feet and such a well brushed uniform! why you would hardly believe he was a messenger boy if you saw him, he was such an active little fellow. "did you ring, sir?" said billy bounce. "sh-h-h, not so loud," whispered nickel plate mysteriously--the whisper he kept for strangers. "yes, i rang." "very well, sir, i am here." "ah-h," hummed bumbus. "are you here, are you there, do you really truly know it? have a care, have a care." "excuse me, sir," said billy bewildered, "i don't think i understand you." "neither do i," said bumbus. "nobody does. i'm a mystery." "mr. who?" said billy. "mr. bumbus of course." "oh! i thought you said mr. e." "don't be silly, boy," interrupted nickel plate. "bumbus, be quiet." "i be," said bumbus. "can you read?" whispered nickel plate. "yes, sir." "that's good. then perhaps you know where bogie man lives." "no, sir, but if you'll tell me i can find his house," said billy, hoping it wasn't the real bogie man he meant. "that would be telling," said nickel plate. "but, sir, i don't know where to find him." "did you ever see such a lazy boy?" hummed bumbus. "lazy bones, lazy bones, climb up a tree and shake down some doughnuts and peanuts to me." "but really," said nickel plate frowning, "really you know _i_ can't tell you where bogie man lives; it's against the rules." [illustration: "i _can't tell you where bogie man lives, it's against the rules_."--page .] "then, sir," said billy, his head in a whirl, "i don't see how i can deliver your message." "that's your lookout. you're a messenger boy, aren't you?" "yes, sir." "and your duty is to carry messages wherever they are sent?" "yes, sir, but--" "there, i can't argue with you any more. you will have to take the message--good day," said nickel plate handing billy the note. "but, sir--" bumbus jumped off his chair and slowly revolved around billy, humming-- "little boy, billy boy, do as you're told. refusal is rudeness: i surely shall scold. here's your hat, there's the door, run while you may, i have the great pleasure to wish you good-day." as he sang this, bumbus circled closer and closer to billy until finally he touched him, digging him in the ribs and giving him gentle pushes toward the door. suddenly billy found himself outside of the room with the door slammed in his face. "well," said billy staring at the note in his hand, "i'm glad i'm out of that room anyway." then looking up at the door he read painted in bold, black letters on the glass "nickel plate, polished villain. short and long orders in all kinds of villainy promptly executed. abductions a specialty." and lower down in smaller letters, "i. b. bumbus, assistant villain, office hours between o'clock." "what am i to do with this note? it is addressed to bogie man, in-the-dark, never was. if i don't deliver the message i'll be discharged, and if i do deliver it--but how can i--oh pshaw! i know, i'm asleep--ouch!" for he had given himself a sharp nip in the calf of his leg to wake himself. but there was the note still in his hand, and there in front of him stood the building he had just left. "i'm awake, that's certain, and--i beg your pardon, sir--" for he had bumped into a little old gentleman who was hurrying in the opposite direction. [illustration: _"now," said mr. gas, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling."_--page .] "it's mr. gas, the balloon maker," cried billy, joyfully; "perhaps you can help me; it's a good thing i ran into you." "humph!" said mr. gas, with his hands on his stomach, "it's not a very good thing for me that you ran into me, but i'm glad to see you." "i am sorry, mr. gas, but i'm really in very serious trouble," said billy, with a sigh. mr. gas smiled. "i might have known you didn't know the way to bogie man's house." "why," said billy, in surprise, "how did you know--" "gift horses can't be choosers, which means, don't ask any questions," said mr. gas, pinching billy's ear; "but come along to my house, and i'll help you." "now," said mr. gas, when they had entered the shop where he made all the toy balloons for all the little boys and girls in all the world, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling, because if you do you'll burst some of my balloons." billy laughed. "sit on the ceiling; why, how could i?" "wait and see," said mr. gas; "nothing is impossible to your fairy godfather." "are you my fairy godfather?" asked billy, opening his eyes very, very wide. "on sundays and week days i am; the rest of the time i'm not." "but what other days are there?" said billy. "strong days of course. i thought you knew geography," said mr. gas huffily. "yes, sir, i suppose so," said billy afraid to ask any more questions. "now then, put on this suit," said the balloon maker, producing what looked like a big rubber bag. "yes, sir, but--" "of course it's wrong side out. how can i get the right side inside unless the wrong side is outside of the inside of the outside of the inside of your outside clothes. anybody who can count his chickens before they are hatched ought to know that." billy gasped and proceeded to pull the suit on over his messenger boy's uniform. "stand on your head." billy knew how to do this. he had practiced it often enough against fences when he should have been delivering messages. taking one of billy's trouser legs in each hand, mr. gas gave a quick jerk and billy found himself standing on his feet with the rubber suit inside of his uniform. "there," said mr. gas, "that's done--the next thing is to blow you up." "oh! mr. gas, please don't do that," said billy, thinking of gunpowder and things. "with a hot air pump--stand quiet," chug-chug-ff-chug-ff-squee-e went the pump and there stood billy like a great round butter ball. his uniform fitted as close and snug on the rubber suit as the skin on an onion. for that was a peculiar property of the rubber suit; any clothes, loose, tight or otherwise were bound to fit over it. "thank you sir," said billy looking down and trying to see his foot, "but--" "here's the hot air pump; put it in your pocket.--now--be careful, don't jump or you'll bump your head. you're ready now to hunt bogie man." "how am i to get there?" "jump there of course," replied mr. gas. "when you get outside the door all you have to do is to jump into the air; that will carry you out of town. then keep on jumping till you get there. that's simple, isn't it?" "but can't you tell me in which direction to jump?" asked billy. "jump up, of course; if you jump down you'll dent the sidewalk." "but shall i jump north or east or south or west, sir?" "exactly; just follow those directions and you will be sure to arrive; but wait, before you start i'll give you barker, my little dog." "what kind of a dog is he?" asked billy. "a full-blooded, yellow cur. he won the booby prize at the last dog show." "thank you, sir; but won't you keep him for me until i get back?" "don't jump to conclusions, billy, it strains the suit; barker will help you when you want shade or shelter by night or day." "isn't he rather a small dog for me to get under?" asked billy, looking at the tiny animal mr. gas held out to him. mr. gas stamped his foot. "more questions--listen: when night or rain comes on, drop to the ground, dig a little hole, hold barker's nose over it and pinch his tail to make him bark. shovel in the dirt, and of course you will have planted his bark. well, you know what is planted must grow, so up will come the bark and the boughs, and you can shelter yourself all night beneath the singing tree." billy took the dog and started out of the door. "thank you; is that all, sir?" "of course not," said mr. gas. "yes, sir." "good-bye." "good-bye?" asked billy, in surprise, "i thought you said--" "yes, that's it; we had to say good-bye before it could be all." "oh! good-bye," said billy, and going outside took a great big jump up into the air. chapter ii. a jump to shamville. up, up, up, went billy when he took his leap into the air. way above the house tops, past the city, over green fields, hills and valleys, crossing brooks and rivers that looked like little threads of silver so far below were they, until he thought he never would alight. finally things began to get larger and larger and larger on the earth, and he knew he was floating gently down, down, down. it was just like going down from the twenty-first story in a very slow, very comfortable elevator. plump, and billy was on the ground. before him stood a city. this seemed strange, for he knew he hadn't seen it until his feet touched mother earth. "excuse me, sir," said billy, to a tall, thin, rusty coated man who was looking intently at the heavens through a long hollow tube open at both ends. "oh! you're here, are you?" said the man, lowering the tube and looking at billy. "i've been waiting for you to come down." "yes, sir," said billy; "excuse me, but what city is this?" "shamville. so you are a meteor." "no, sir, i'm a messenger," said billy. "pardon me, but you _are_ a meteor, by right of discovery, and i ought to know, for i'm a near astronomer." "a near what?" "not a near what, but a near astronomer; with my near telescope i have nearly discovered hundreds of nearly new stars," said the man, looking very, very wise. "oh! i see," said billy, smiling. "well sir, you may be a near astronomer, but in this case you are not near right." "well, you're a near meteor and that will do well enough in shamville." by this time they had entered the city. "who is that long haired, greasy gentleman writing on his cuff?" asked billy. "you must meet him. he is our village near poet," answered the star-gazer, impressively. "allow me, mr. never print, to introduce my latest discovery, billy bounce, a near meteor." mr. never print stopped writing, and after rolling his eyes and carefully disarranging his hair, said: "how beautiful a thing is a fried oyster! have you read my latest near book?" "no, sir," said billy. "ah! such is near fame," said the poet, untying his cravat. "art is long, but a toothless dog does not bite." "sir," said billy, "i didn't quite catch your meaning?" [illustration: _the near poet._] "the near meaning, you mean; like all great near poets, my meaning is hidden. perhaps you will understand this better: the little flower, like a beefsteak, reminds us that a gentle answer comes home to roost." billy was so bewildered by this that he leaned against a wall, or rather, he leaned on what looked like a wall. as the near astronomer helped him to his feet he said: "be careful of the near walls. they're just painted canvas, you know, and are not meant to lean against." "thank you," said billy; "is there anything here that is not an imitation?" "oh, no!" answered the astronomer, "this is shamville; but i assure you we're all just as good as the original." "well, i must be off," said billy, "i must deliver this note to bogie man." "to whom?" "to bogie man. can you tell me how to get there?" "oh, my goodness! oh, my gracious! what have i done, what have i done?" cried the astronomer, beating himself over the head with his near telescope. "i don't know sir, i'm sure," said billy; "from what i've seen i shouldn't think you had ever done anything." "hear him! hear him!" screamed the astronomer, then calling to the people on the streets: "come near-artist, come near-actor, come near everybody, we have in our midst one who would expose us to the people who really do things." with fearful cries the entire population made one dash for billy, who, forgetting that all he had to do was to jump, tried to run. in his big suit he found this almost impossible and soon he was surrounded by an excited mob. "roast him at the steak," cried the butcher, still holding in his hands the papier mache chicken he had been selling when the call came. "splendid," said, the near poet. "boil him in oil," suggested the near artist. "what is it, forgery?" asked the blacksmith. "put him in a cell," said the merchant. billy saw that he was in a tight place and must act quickly. no one had as yet taken hold of him, they were all too excited to think of that; but he knew a near policeman was even then trying to edge through the crowd and something must be done. just then the near astronomer put out a hand to seize billy's collar--quick as a wink billy reached up and pushed the star gazer's plug hat right down over his eyes. "you can't see stars this time at any rate," said billy, and then was surprised to find himself rising, rising, rising off of the ground. in hitting he had jumped up to reach the star gazer's hat and of course up he went. "good-bye," called billy, to the astonished crowd, "i had forgotten that you couldn't do any more than _nearly_ catch me or i should not have been frightened." and the last billy ever saw of shamville was a great sea of big round eyes and wide open mouths. "i wonder whether this is the beginning or the end of my adventures," said billy to himself. "i hope it is the last because i really want to deliver this note to bogie man as soon as i can. they will think it strange at the office if i'm gone longer than a week delivering one message." "my goodness, can that be a cyclone?" for just ahead of him billy saw a great cloud from which came a hum-m-m--buzz-z-z-z. "why, it's a swarm of bees and they are carrying something. i do hope they won't sting me." by this time billy had met them and of course, as he couldn't steer himself in the air, the bees had to get out of the way. "hum-m," said a big old fat bee, clearing his throat, "what sort of a beetle are you?" "i'm--i'm a boy," said billy, very, very politely, because he saw that the soldier bees had fixed sting bayonets. "i've never heard of a beetle boy--stop a minute, i want to look at you." "i'm sorry, sir," said billy, "but i can't." [illustration: _general merchandise._] "we'll soon fix that," shouted the old bee general. "ho! guard, seize him." and in a twinkling billy found himself in the grasp of the bees. now of course as soon as billy stopped moving forward he had to drop to earth, so down, down, down he went, with the excited bee soldiers clinging to him and flapping their wings in a vain endeavor to keep him and themselves up in the air. and almost on top of them dropped the fussy old bee general. "now see what you've done, beetle boy," said he. "what do you mean by interfering with the queen's own yellow jackets on the public fly-ways?" before billy could answer a sweet girlish voice said: "what is the matter, general merchandise?" "we've caught a fly-wayman or something equally wicked, princess honey girl," said the general, gravely saluting. "indeed miss," said billy, kneeling (as well as he could in his suit) before the beautiful, golden haired maiden, who had stepped out of her palanquin and stood looking at him, "indeed miss, i'm not any of the things this bee gentleman calls me--i'm just a messenger boy." "there now, what did i tell you?" shouted the general. "just a minute ago he said he was a beetle boy. ho, guard--oh! that's so, you've already ho--d." "i beg your pardon, sir, but you were the one that said i was a beetle boy." "don't contradict," said general merchandise. "why didn't you tell me you weren't, then?" "that would be contradicting, sir," said billy, laughing in spite of his fears. "general," said the princess, "let me speak." "if you will promise not to talk," said the general, bowing. "first then, soldiers, take your hands off mr. messenger boy." "billy bounce is my name, princess," murmured billy. "ha," growled the general, half to himself, "another name, eh!" "silence, general; i can't forget that my aunt queen bee--" "she's not an ant, she's a bee," said the general, sulkily. "silence, sir; you forget yourself. i say that i cannot forget that my aunt queen bee, whose heir i am, bestowed the title of general merchandise upon you, because she set such store by you, but i cannot stand these interruptions." "pardon, your highness," said the general, humbly. "granted. now, billy bounce, what have you to say for yourself?" "nothing, princess," answered billy, "except that i am carrying a message from nickel plate to bogie man and--" "my bitter enemy," cried the princess. "hum-m-m-m-m, i told you so," shouted the general. "ho, guards, seize him!" billy found himself again seized, and very roughly this time; indeed, had it not been for the toughness of his rubber suit he would have surely been stung. but, nothing daunted, he said: "your enemies, princess honey girl; then they are mine." "what do you mean?" asked she, blushing. "i mean," said billy, earnestly, "that if i were not a messenger boy, who has to do his duty under any circumstances, and had i known that these were your enemies, i should not have carried their message." "then why do you?" said the general. "give me the message and you shall be free." "no," said billy, "i cannot do that; i have undertaken to carry it, and my honor demands that i do so while i live." "you are right," said the general; "then the best way out of the difficulty is to kill you." "no," said the princess, "that shall not be done." "thank you, princess," whispered billy, "you shall not regret it. let me do my duty--let me carry the message. then, when it is delivered, i shall be free to fight for you; indeed, when i am once in bogie man's castle i shall be in the very best position to help you." "good," said the princess. "good," said the general. "good," said all the soldiers. "but why are nickel plate, bumbus and bogie man your enemies?" asked billy. "because they want to carry me far away from the bee palace and make me work in the factory," answered the princess, sadly, "putting the wicked glucose, who looks almost exactly like me, in my place in the castle." "but why?" said billy. "i am crown princess, and if they can do away with me and substitute glucose for me they will be in control of the castle and the bee government and can make a corner in honey." "villains!" cried billy, "but between us we will foil them." "you _will_ help me?" said the princess, looking earnestly at him. "i will, i promise you. but now i must be on my way." "good-bye, billy bounce; don't forget me," said the princess. "i will see you soon. good-bye, honey girl," and, with a farewell wave to the princess, the general, and all the soldier bees, billy jumped up and away in further search of bogie man. chapter iii. billy is captured by tomato. billy had floated a long, long time through the sweet, soft air: indeed he was gently settling down to earth again, when he discovered that the jolly old red faced sun was rolling off to his bed in the far west. "well," said he to himself, "if father sun is going to turn in for the night, and i see him putting on his white cloud night cap, i expect it's about time for me to do the same." "bow-wow," came a faint bark from under his coat. "why, it's barker," said billy, reaching in and patting a warm little head. "i'd almost forgotten you, old doggie, and i thank you for reminding me of the singing tree." in a twinkling billy was on the ground and digging a hole in the soft earth. "i hate to pinch your tail, old fellow," said billy, "but it's really necessary you know," and holding barker's nose over the hole he gave his tail a gentle tweak. "bow-wow-wow." quickly billy shovelled in the earth, and lo and behold, quicker than i can tell you about it, there stood the singing tree, bowing and smiling. just as billy was going to wish the tree a polite good evening, he saw barker scampering after a little beam of sunlight that had crept in through the branches of the tree. "barker, come here," called billy, but he was too late. "snap--gulp," and barker had swallowed the sunlight. "i hope it won't make you sick, doggie," said billy, looking at him anxiously. but barker wrinkled his nose at him in such a happy dog smile and wagged his stubby little tail so contentedly that billy decided he was used to the diet and turned to the singing tree. "good evening," said billy, "i hope you are well." "mi?-so-so," sang the tree, "pause and rest at my bass." "excuse me, sir, but what is your name?" said billy; "you see i'd like to know how to address you." "c. octavious minor," sang the tree. "but it's time you slept. i'll look sharp for accidental intruders and pitch into them with my staff if they bother us; good night." then he began to sing softly: "when the clucking cows have gone to roost and the milk hens all are fed, when the sheep have sung their young to wake and the bats have gone to bed, when the sun has risen in the west and the golden moon has sunk, when the gentle watch dog's wound and set and the day owl's in his bunk, it's time for wakeful boys to sleep despite the hooting lark, for yesterday will soon be here and work begins with dark." and when the tree got to this point in his song he stopped. for billy was sound asleep with barker snuggled up in his arms, while from his half-opened lips came a contented snore. billy was awakened in the morning by the singing tree tickling him gently on the nose with one of its branches. "up--up," it sang. barker thinking it was calling "up pup" jumped up, and ran madly around the tree for his morning's exercise. and then suddenly there was no tree. barker didn't notice this at first, and circled around where the tree had been three times more before he discovered that it was gone. have you ever seen a dog look surprised and hurt and just a little bit ashamed? well, that's the way barker looked when billy picked him up and stowed him away again in his jacket. "well, i must be off," said billy to himself. "don't hurry," said a voice at his elbow. billy was so startled that he stepped back, caught his foot in a vine, and rolled over and over on the ground. there, where a minute before had been nothing at all, stood a great red tomato leaning on its vine. "it's--it's a fine morning, sir," said billy. "a vine morning you mean," said the tomato sourly. "i beg your pardon?" said billy, because he hadn't quite understood the tomato. "granted for just this once. but don't do it again." "what?" "anything--great tin cans! how i hate boys." "i'm sorry, sir," said billy. "no, you're not," grumbled the tomato; "you say you are, but you're not; boys are never sorry." "why don't you like boys, sir? i'm sure"--and then he stopped. he was on the point of saying "boys like tomatoes" when he remembered that this might sound a little personal and thought better of it. the tomato did not notice this, however, and said, wiping a dew tear from his eye, "a boy threw my favourite sister at a cat last week and i have never been able to abide boys since; and, come to think of it, you look like that boy." "oh! no, sir, it wasn't i," said billy, frightened. "i--i've only just come." "well, maybe not; goodness knows, though, you're ugly enough. where are you going?" [illustration: "_come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce._"--page .] "i'm taking a message to bogie man, sir; and--and i really must go at once. good bye." "oh! ho! so you're the boy bumbus warned me about last night. i guess you'll have to stay here," said the tomato threateningly. this made billy angry. "i guess not," he said, and gave a great jump into the air. "not so fast, mr. rubber ball, not so fast," said the tomato in billy's ear. and though billy was many, many feet away from the ground, tomato's vines had grown right up to him, while one of his tendrils had wound itself about his feet. not only that but hundreds of other tomatoes, not quite so large as the first one it is true, but large enough to frighten billy, were shaking their heads at him threateningly. but billy plucked up his courage and said in a voice that was a wee bit shaky, "come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce; if you're not careful i'll squash you." "even then i'd be some pumpkins," shouted the tomato, nearly bursting with rage, "and as everybody knows a well red tomato is not a greeny, i certainly should be able to catsup with a small boy." "you ought to go on the stage," said billy, trying to smile; "you really are very funny." this seemed to mollify the tomato. "some of my family have gone on as soupers. what would you suggest for me, comedy or tragedy?" "comedy, by all means," answered billy, settling himself more comfortably on a large leaf, because, of course, having stopped moving, he would have fallen had he had nothing to support him. "i can recite," said the tomato. "don't you want to hear me?" "i'd be delighted, only, you know, i'm late, and--" "you will be the late lamented if you don't sit tight, my boy," said the tomato, sourly. "listen." tomato's recitation. "there lived a wicked wenket once, who kept a castle keep, and when he wasn't wide awake you'd find him fast asleep. he ate his food with knife and fork, and i am loath to state, he wore a shoe upon each foot, a hat upon his pate. of course it's hard to give belief so sinful one could be; but oft he wore a collar too, betwixt just you and me. and think of this--i blush with shame to tell this awful truth-- he wore a coat and vest and pants-- how horribly uncouth!!! but wickedness _will_ get its due, as sure as corn is corn. he went to bed one stormy night and got up in the morn. now little boys and little girls, this tale a moral bears: don't strike the baby with an axe or throw the cat down stairs." "good," said billy, "it really must be very funny indeed when it is well done," and pop he had jumped on tomato's head, given a quick spring, and had sailed off before tomato realized what he was up to. "i'm glad tomato recited; he was so out of breath when he finished that he couldn't grow after me," said billy to himself when he saw that he was safe from pursuit. "i wonder what honey girl is doing today." and i fear that he was still thinking so hard about honey girl that he forgot to notice when he next dropped to the ground. anyway, he was standing deep in thought when something tapped him on the shoulder. "salute!" said a stern voice. looking up billy saw that he was surrounded by hundreds of grim-faced soldiers, dressed in uniforms of the very deepest indigo, and all wearing blue glasses. and such a thin, sad, hollow-cheeked, hollow-eyed officer as had tapped him on the shoulder! billy could tell he was an officer because of the gun metal sword he carried and the epaulettes of crepe that he wore. "salute," said the officer again in a deep, sepulcheral tone. "yes, sir," said billy, cracking his heels together and putting his hand up to his cap as he had seen soldiers do. "that's not the proper salute. take out your handkerchief and wipe your right eye," said the officer. "that's the proper salute for the blues." billy did as he was told with a sinking heart. everything seemed so changed by the regiment of blues. the sun had gone under a cloud, the wind whistled dismally, a frog croaked in a nearby pond, and all together billy came near to wanting to use his handkerchief in earnest. "so you think you are going to see bogie man." "yes, sir, i am." "you're not, as sure as my name is colonel solemncholly." "excuse me, but i am," said billy staunchly. "i knew it, i knew it," said the colonel, sadly. "he is too fat to give up easily--goodness, how i hate fat people--they laugh." "don't you ever laugh, sir?" "i'd be court martialed if i did." "but aren't you commander?" asked billy. [illustration: _private tear._] "yes, of the blues, but you know we're the away-from-home guard of bogie man, and he is our real commander." "oh! i see. then you can tell me how to get to never was." "indeed not. we were sent out to stop you, and that reminds me--corporal punishment and private tear, seize this boy." "snap," went the whip in corporal punishment's hand, "crack," it struck private tear on the shoulder, and snuffing and wiping his eyes, private tear stepped out of the ranks. "seize him and throw him in the dumps," cried colonel solemncholly. as the colonel spoke the drums gave a long dismal roll and the band struck up a funeral march. corporal punishment's whip was circling in the air preparatory to coming down on billy's head, and private tear was getting ready to put his handkerchief over his eyes when billy laughed. it wasn't because he felt like laughing at all, but because barker in snuggling closer to him had tickled him in the ribs. "look out, he's armed!" cried colonel solemncholly, corporal punishment and private tear in one breath. this gave billy an idea, and he burst out into a loud laugh. "throw a wet blanket over him," commanded the colonel. "regiment, carry arms!" at that the soldiers drew out their pocket-handkerchiefs, held them to their eyes, reversed their guns, and advanced boldly on billy, while the band played the tune the old cow died on. billy continued to force his laugh, trying hard to think of some way out of his difficulty. he didn't like the idea of the wet blanket, and he couldn't jump or run because corporal punishment's whip was wound around his neck. "double quick!" cried the colonel. "catch him before the sun comes out." barker stirred uneasily in billy's pocket. "saved!" cried billy. "it's worth trying." and quickly taking barker out of his pocket, he held him by his hind legs and gently thumped his little stomach. "plump," and out fell the bar of sunlight he had swallowed the night before. when it struck the ground it burst into a million dancing, sparkling bits of golden sunshine, and presto! the blues had disappeared, lock, stock and barrel. and there stood billy, in a glow of sunlight on the beautiful green grass, listening to the sweet notes of forest birds in the trees nearby. "now i know how to get rid of the blues," sang billy to himself, as he leapt into the air, "a good hearty laugh and a bit of sunshine will always disperse them." chapter iv. adventures in eggs-aggeration. "hello!" cried billy, "what's that ahead?" far off on the horizon he saw a large white and gold thing sailing through the air. as he drew nearer he could see its wings gently flapping. "it looks something like--why it _is_, a large fried egg," said he, excitedly. "good day, sir," for by this time they were side by side. "it's not a good day, and i'm not sir, i'm white wings," said the fried egg, curling up around the edges scornfully. "well, maybe you're not sir," said billy, tartly, "but you're very surly." "you wouldn't blame me if you knew how nearly i jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire this morning; you can see that i'm all of a-tremble still, and all because bogie man sent an airless message to the blue hen's chicken that i was to get up before breakfast and do sentry duty." "what for?" asked billy. "to stop one billy bounce, alias rubber ball boy, and take him prisoner to the town of eggs-aggeration. he's a very dangerous person." "why, i'm----" and then billy stopped. "of course you are; i knew that as soon as i saw you," said white wings, complacently. "what did you know?" "that you're----" "_what_ am i?" "i don't know, but you said you were," said white wings. "but wait a minute, i have a lineless picture of this billy bounce some place about me." "you needn't trouble," said billy. "i'm billy bounce." "yes, i know," answered white wings, unblushingly, "it's impossible to deceive _me_." "well!" was all billy could say, so disgusted was he with the barefaced fib. "and here we are," said the egg, as they dropped gently on the sidewalk in the town of eggs-aggeration. and such a grotesque town as it was. not a straight street or house in it. the walls, a little distance away, went up and up so high that billy could just barely see the roofs of the houses; but when he was standing next them he could almost reach their tops by standing on tiptoe. the streets looked miles long, but he knew he could almost come to their end in three steps and a jump. "what an exaggeration," said billy to himself; "why, of course, that's the reason they call it eggs-aggeration." "here's billy bounce," called white wings, and out of their doors and windows trooped the inhabitants. first came the blue hen's chicken, and after her rolled eggs of all kinds and descriptions. [illustration: _blue hen's chicken._] "my goodness," said white wings, "what a time i had with him, to be sure. it was only after a fierce hand-to-egg struggle that i succeeded in capturing him." "why!" exclaimed billy in surprise. "i----" "is he very strong?" interrupted the blue hen's chicken. "strong," said white wings, "_strong_, i should say he was; much stronger than our oldest inhabitant." "what are you going to do with me?" asked billy, too disgusted to deny the story. "wait and see," chuckled the chicken, "wait--wait--wait--wait--and see--bad luck--bad luck--bad luck." "serve him right for being a greedy boy," said turkey egg, angrily. "i know him, he's a bad lot--always eating, just gobble, gobble, gobble, all day long." "that's not true," said billy, "you know you don't know me." "never saw you in my life before," whispered turkey egg, "but don't mention that, if i want to get my witness fee i've got to say something, haven't i?" "but you may be swearing my life away," said billy. "i never swear, but i'm sure you want to get away, don't you?" "yes, of course." "well, you want to take your life with you, don't you?" "yes." "there you are, then; if your life is taken away it won't be here, and if it is not here you won't be here, and if you are not here you will be away," and turkey egg laughed heartily at his joke. "you are the most heartless egg i ever knew," said billy, in despair. "sh-h-h-h-h! now you've hit the truth," said turkey egg, confidentially; "years ago, when they thought i was going to turn out bad, they blew my heart out." "isn't he handsome," simpered little miss easter egg, coloring up. billy pretended not to hear this, but it did his heart good to know that he had one friend in the city. in the meantime blue hen's chicken and the official candler, who was called egg judge, had been discussing what should be done with billy. "bogie man says he is to be kept in custardy for a thousand years," said blue hen's chicken. [illustration: _little miss easter egg._] "i know that's an exaggeration," said billy; "why, i can't live that long." "of course not," answered the official candler; "and if you're not alive, what difference will it make whether it's a thousand years or ten thousand?" "come, come! we're wasting time," fussed the blue hen's chicken. "to the packing house jail with him." "i'll stick to him," cried al bumen, the policeman, shaking his egg-beater at billy fiercely; "come along now! there's no use trying to resist, for i have you egg-sactly where i want you." and billy, seeing that it was indeed useless to try to escape as things then were, went sulkily off, with al bumen's moist hand in his collar. "please take your sticky fingers off of my neck," said he; "i won't try to run." "you promise?" asked al bumen. "i do, cross my heart and hope to die," said billy eagerly. "well, i don't believe you, i can't believe any body in eggs-aggeration." poor billy hung his head in shame as he was led along the street like a common criminal. he tried two or three times to pull away, but al bumen's arm would stretch out like a rubber band and then "snap," billy would bounce back like a return ball. "there, now, what did i tell you," said al bumen, "that's the second time that you have tried to escape and you said you wouldn't." "but you wouldn't take my word." "of course not, i have no use for your word, i have plenty of my own. and anyway, how could you keep your word if you gave it to me." my, my, my, what a day it was for the inhabitants of eggs-aggeration. they had seen eggs beaten, and taken up by the police, but never a boy. the scramble egg children tumbled along at billy's side, shouting and rolling over and over in their glee. mothers brought their little cradled egg babies out to see him pass--even poor "addle," the village egg idiot, made faces at him; only billy felt sorry for him because he could see that he was cracked. but when some of the bad little street boys threw stones at him, even al bumen was angry--indeed, they barely missed his head two or three times. "stop it," he cried, "i know you every one, you are the strictly boys." "how do you know them?" asked billy, for they looked like any other eggs to him. "do you think i can't recognize a fresh egg when i see him--oh! i know them--their mother thinks because they have had their names in the grocer's window that they can't turn out bad, but i've known some terrible ones in that family." billy felt almost relieved when they reached the jail. "in with you," said al bumen. "by the way, have you ever had the chicken pox?" "no, sir," said billy. "well, you must be vaccinated at once; i wouldn't have you catch it and break out now that you are safely here." "i warn you i shall try to," said billy, in a temper. "i give you leave to try, but it's useless to try to leave--you can thank your lucky stars you weren't put in the incubator instead of in here." "the incubator?" asked billy. "yes--the orphan asylum--it's a terribly hot place; an egg that goes in there never comes out the same," said al bumen, gravely. "oh, i know," said billy; "it changes them into chicks." "yes--it's capital punishment; they either come out entirely bad or with fowl natures. it's enough to make one chicken-hearted to think of it." billy was shown into his cell and the door was locked. "why--who are you?" said he, in surprise. for when his eyes got used to the darkness he discovered that he had a cell mate. a shaven-headed, heavy-jawed egg yawned and sat up on the cake-of-ice cot he had been lying on. "me? i'm boiled egg." "what--what have you done, sir?" said billy, hoping it wasn't murder. "that's the trouble," said boiled egg, sulkily; "i'm overdone--got into hot water last night and they arrested me for a hard character this morning. i believe the charge is salt and peppery." "that's too bad," said billy, sympathetically. "it is that--but they'd better look out, or i'll turn into an easter egg and dye on their hands," said he, fiercely. "tap--tap--tap," came from the wall. "what's that?" asked billy. "oh! a couple of softies in the next cell." "who are they?" "the poachers--ham omelet found them trapping a rasher of bacon on his property and had them arrested--they've been put on toast and water for punishment. by the way, do you know what they have done with nest egg?" "who?" asked billy. "nest egg--the laundryman?" "no, i've never heard of him; what has he done?" "he was arrested for impersonating an egg," said boiled egg, "and it served him right, because he never could be served any other way, you know." "why?" asked billy. "well, in the first place, he came here from china, and i tell you we union eggs are all down on chinese labor. what chance has an honest, hard-working egg against that sort of a fellow. i say, crack his head open, that's the only thing that should be done to him." "goodness! that ice makes it damp in here; i believe i'm taking cold--catch--choo--catch--choo," and billy sneezed twice. "gehsundheit!" said a voice in his ear. [illustration: _gehsundheit_] "did you speak, mr. boiled egg?" asked billy, surprised. "no; please be quiet and let me sleep," said boiled egg, sleepily. "gehsundheit!" and this time billy turned his head and saw a little snuff-colored fellow sitting on his shoulder, with the funniest little face he had ever seen. his eyes were puckered up, his nose wrinkled and his mouth open, so that he looked for all the world as if he were going to sneeze any minute. in his coat pocket he carried a very life-like stuffed rabbit. "who are you?" asked billy. "gehsundheit!" "and what is that?" "a cherman count--and amateur presti-indigestion-tater, or magician--you haf called me--alreatty am i here." "i didn't call you." "ogscuse me, but did you not schneeze?" "yes," said billy. "so--vas i right--ven you schneeze den does it call me. see, here are my orders from mr. gas." and, taking a paper out of gehsundheit's hand, billy read "gehsundheit, draughty castle, germany; when billy bounce sneezes he needs your assistance--go to him at once. signed by mr. gas." "what luck," whispered billy excitedly. "what luck--indeed i do need you." "it is most well, i am here. vat was your vish?" "i want to get out," said billy. "can you crawl through a keyhole?" asked gehsundheit. "of course not--if i could i shouldn't need your help," said billy, disdainfully. "no; dat iss too bad, i can. can you disappear?" "certainly not." "too bad--too bad. let me think. ah! i haf it, turn yourself into a fly," said gehsundheit eagerly. "but i can't. can you?" "no, but it would be so useful if you could. i am afraid times haf changed. ven i vas a boy peeples could do so much magic. to-day it iss not so. i--i only am de greatest magician in vorld." "but i thought you were here to help me," said billy. "i am, but if you will not follow my directions how can i?" said gehsundheit, crossly. "then can you do nothing for me?" "sure can i--would you lend me your cap?" "yes," said billy, handing him his cap and wondering what he was going to do with it. gehsundheit carefully took the rabbit out of his pocket and laying the cap over it made several passes with his hands. "presto--chesto--besto--change!" and lifting up the cap and the rabbit with both hands made a quick turn and pulled the rabbit out of the cap. "it iss wonderful, iss it not?" said gehsundheit. "see i haf taken a rabbit from your cap." "is that all you can do for me," asked billy in disgust. "it's all the tricks i haf yet learned, but yes, i can lend you a pocket handkerchief." "what good will that do?" asked billy. "vy, if you haf caught cold you will need it," said gehsundheit, pulling out a little handkerchief. "oh, go away and let me alone," said billy, thoroughly angry. "much use you are." and presto--gehsundheit was gone. "he's a nice one--gracious, but i'm hungry," and billy hammered on the cell door. "do be still," said boiled egg. "can't you see i'm trying to sleep?" "but i'm hungry," said billy. "hungry," exclaimed boiled egg, turning pale--"why, why, you don't mean to say you eat?" "indeed i do. i haven't had my breakfast yet, and i want some eggs." "help, help, help!" yelled the egg, crouching down in a corner and pulling the cake of ice cot in front of him; "he wants to eat me. help, help, help, help! he wants eggs." "if you're not quiet i _will_ eat you, sure enough," said billy, angrily. "he says he _will_ eat me. help, help, help!" rattle! went the key in the door; bang! it opened wide, and in ran al bumen and yolk, the jailer. "what's the matter here?" asked al bumen, in a fierce voice. "i'm hungry, and i want some eggs for breakfast," said billy, sullenly. out went al bumen, in a jiffy, and after him tumbled yolk, leaving the door wide open and the keys behind them. "this is my chance," cried billy, and out he dashed after them. far off, down the street, billy saw yolk and al bumen running as fast as their legs would carry them. "billy bounce wants eggs to eat! billy bounce wants eggs to eat! look out, everyone, he's loose! help, help, help!" in a minute the town was in an uproar; mothers seized their children, and, carrying them inside, locked the doors and barricaded the windows. gray haired old eggs hobbled as fast as their legs would carry them to places of safety. strong egg men fainted and were dragged indoors. in a minute billy was the only living soul on the street. "now is my time," cried he. "good-bye, eggs, some day i shall come back and eat you all up," and laughing heartily he jumped high into the air and sailed far, far away. chapter v. pease porridge hot billy sat under the singing tree. "time for supper, isn't it, mr. tree?" he said; "i'm as hungry as a wolf." immediately the tree commenced to sing, "pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot nine days old," and with a rustle of leaves it handed down three kinds of porridge. billy chose some of the hot pease porridge and found it very good. then it sang, "little fishey in the brook, papa caught it with a hook, mamma fried it in a pan and billy ate it like a man," at the same time handing him a sizzling hot fish on a clean white platter. the fish was done to a turn and it's no wonder billy left nothing but the bones. next came "pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man! so i will, master, as fast as i can; pat it and prick it and mark it with b; put in the oven for billy and me." "there," said billy, when that was finished, "i feel as though i'd had almost enough; but a little pie would----" and sure enough, the tree sang "little jack horner sat in a corner, eating a xmas pie; he put in his thumb and he took out a plum and said what a good boy am i!" of course, one plum was gone, because jack horner had taken that, but there were plenty more left, and billy ate to his heart's content. so it was every night, and billy never wanted for plenty to eat. but this night he had had such a hearty meal that i fear it made him a bit restless in his sleep. at any rate, some time in the middle of the night he was awakened by a voice calling "umberufen," and a tiny hand thumping him on the chest. "was-smatter?" asked billy sleepily. "umberufen," said the voice. "oh!" said billy, sitting up suddenly and upsetting a little old man with wooden pajamas and a nut-cracker face. "who's umberufen?" "i am, and you called me out of a sound sleep. i do think you mortals are the most inconsiderate people i ever met," said umberufen angrily. "now what do you want? tell me quickly, because i want to get back to my sawdust bed." [illustration: _billy never wanted for plenty to eat._--page .] "i didn't call you--i've been asleep myself." "you did--there's no use trying to deceive me. i distinctly felt it when you touched wood--why," pointing at billy's hand which rested on the trunk of the singing tree, "you're still touching wood. now tell me you didn't call me." [illustration: _umberufen._] "what has my touching wood to do with you?" asked billy. "it calls me to you, worse luck--what a dull fat boy you are, to be sure," said umberufen scornfully. "how was i to know? _i've_ not made any arrangement with you, i'm sure." "well, if you didn't, your fairy godfather did, and got me dirt cheap at that--ten cents a day and traveling expenses. but speak up, what do you want?" "i want to go to sleep," said billy crossly. "but you were asleep," replied umberufen. "yes, i was." "then if you were asleep, why did you call me to tell me you wanted to go to sleep?" "it was an accident," said billy. "i didn't want you, don't want you, and if you can't do anything but scold a fellow because you came when you weren't wanted, i don't ever want to see you again. good-night." and billy turned over in a huff and closed his eyes. "but i can't go until i do something for you-those are my orders," said umberufen sulkily. "you called me here and you've got to abide by the consequences." "i don't care what you do. well, then, stand on your head," said billy. "zip"--and there stood little old umberufen on his head. "why didn't you say so sooner?" said he as he regained his feet. "i'd have been home by this time--good-night," and he was gone. when billy woke in the morning he felt just a bit sleepy and cross, but after he and barker had had a game of romps he felt better, and tucking the dog under his arm he jumped off into space singing gaily. "my gracious, what a big sea shore this is!" exclaimed billy, when he drifted down to earth again; "and how hot the sun is, but where is the water?" and billy stood wiping the perspiration from his brow, while barker squirmed out of his arms and stood in billy's shadow with his tongue lolling out. "it seems to me the singing tree can help us here," said billy. barker undoubtedly understood him, and thought it a splendid plan, for quick as a flash his little fore paws had dug a hole in the soft sand. he barked into it, kicked the sand in again with his hind legs, and he and billy were soon sitting in the grateful shade of the tree. "ah-h," said billy, "this is what i call comfort." "comfort," said a voice on the other side of the tree, "much you know about comfort." the voice was followed by the saddest-looking mortal that billy had ever beheld. a regular sugar-loaf head--large at the jaws and small at the top, scrawny neck, sloping shoulders, and skinny legs. and such a face--weeping beady eyes, a long sharp nose and thin lips turned down at the corners. "who are you?" asked billy sharply. "and what do you mean by coming up so suddenly?" [illustration: _the hermit._] "i'm a hermit, and this is my fast day, so i couldn't come slowly," said the man sadly. "what is a fast day?" asked billy. "a day when you don't eat." "oh!" said billy, "i thought you meant a day when time flies." "no," said the man, wrapping his legs around and around each other, "no; if that were the case every day would be a fast day, because it's always fly time in this desert." "you seem unhappy. cheer up!" "i can't cheer up. how is a fellow to cheer when he can't speak above a whisper?" "i mean laugh," said billy. "laugh," said the man wearily, "what's that?" "don't you know what a laugh is?" cried billy, in surprise. "why, this is a laugh: ha-ha-ha!" "i don't see any sense in that," said the hermit; "that's just a noise." "of course it's a noise. come, now, i'll tell you a joke: when is a door not a door?" of course it was very, very old, but so was the hermit, and billy wanted to start with the simplest joke he could think of. "quite impossible." "no; when it's a-jar. isn't that a good one?" said billy. "ha-ha-ha!" "oh, my! oh, me! what a terrible thing!" cried the man, bursting into tears. "suppose all the doors should be changed into jars, what would the poor people do?" "but don't you see, that's the joke," said billy; "a-jar means partly open." "yes, but if it were still a door how could it be a jar? it's got to be one or the other." "oh, pshaw!" said billy, in disgust; "can't you see it's a joke. i think it's very funny." "oh! is that funny?" asked the hermit. "of course." "then that's the reason it doesn't make me laugh. when i was a boy i broke my humerus and had to have my funny bone extracted, so i can't see anything funny." "poor fellow!" said billy sympathetically. "what town is that over there?" "mirage town," said the hermit; "but you can't reach it unless you fly." "why not?" "it's built in the sky." "in the sky? is it on the road to bogie man's house?" "are you seeking bogie man? oh, me! oh, my! don't tell me you are seeking him." "but i am," said billy; "why not?" "because i've got to hold you if you are, and i'm so tired," said the hermit, slowly reaching out his arms. "good-by," cried billy, giving a jump and bounding out of his reach. "oh! please come back and tell me another joke, i haven't had a good cry for a week," called the hermit, holding out his arms. "too late," billy called back--"but when is a door not a door? when its a jar." "thank you," sobbed the hermit, and the last billy saw or heard of him he was murmuring, "when is a door a jar," and weeping bitterly. in a twinkling billy stood at the gates of mirage town. far beneath him he could see the burning hot desert, while through the gates he could see cool, airy houses, beautiful streets shaded by great trees and far beyond soft, green meadows and sparkling brooks. "my goodness, but i'm thirsty," said billy to himself. "i wish the gate keeper would hurry and let me in," and again and again he knocked, but seemingly with no result. finally when his throat was parched and his tongue dry with thirst, he could stand it no longer. he put his shoulder to the gates--open they swung, and billy fell inside on his face. "why, it was just like pushing clouds away," he exclaimed. "but i'm in the sun here; i must cross to the other side." so across the street he ran. "why this is strange, i was sure this was the shady side," he said in surprise. for when he got there the sun if anything was hotter than ever and the side he had left was cool, shady and inviting. billy shut his eyes. "i'm afraid this is sun-stroke," he said, "anyway i'll try again," and back he ran as hard as he could go. but when he got across it was the same thing as before. "come in and rest," called a voice from a house at his side; "you look hot and tired--come in and rest your face and hands." "thank you, i will," said billy, gratefully, not noticing that the voice was just a wee bit derisive. "this way," called the voice; "turn the knob and walk in--if you can." "oh! i can," said billy, walking toward the door of the house he thought he heard the voice coming from. "not that way--i'm across the street," called the voice. "oh!" said billy, politely, starting across again, "i beg your pardon--i thought----" "think again," said the voice; "are you coming in or not? i'm not over here, i'm over there." "where?" "back where you're coming from." "i thought you said--" began billy. "it doesn't make any difference what i said, i didn't say it," answered the voice. billy began to lose his temper. "are you making fun of me--who are you anyway?" "i'm nothing divided by two." "why, that's nothing," said billy. "wrong," answered the voice. "why?" "don't ask so many questions--are you coming in or not?" "i think not," said billy, "i can't spare the time." "i suppose you think you'll have to get right on to bogie man's house." "yes." "but you're not--you'll never get away from mirage town." "why not?" asked billy, "because there is no such place." "but i'm here." "that's the trouble--you are in a town that doesn't exist, so of course, you are not in any place. and, if you'll tell me how you can leave a place where you're not i'll----" "i'll show you," said billy angrily, "i'll jump out," and he tried to jump. "no use," said the voice laughing, "there's nothing under your feet--and you can't jump from nothing." "well, i'll get a drink of water from that brook and then you'll see," said billy, "i'll go out by the gate i entered." "ha! ha! ha!" laughed the voice, "try and see." nothing daunted, however, billy ran toward the brook--"can't catch me--can't catch me," called the brook, "running boys can't catch running brooks." "indeed i will," and sure enough after a long hard run billy reached the brook. "now," said he exultingly, "now i've got you." dipping his cap deep into the water he eagerly lifted it to his lips and found it--empty, while far off down the road ran the brook. billy came very near crying, he was so hot and thirsty and disappointed. but he swallowed the lump in his throat (which, being salty, made him thirstier than ever) and turned back again. "the gates are all that's left," he said, bravely, "and i'll catch them, i'm sure." but it wasn't to be, for the farther and the harder he ran, the farther off the gates were. and finally he sank down, entirely out of breath. "no water, no shade, no trees--why the singing tree, of course," he cried, delightedly. out jumped barker, scratch, scratch, scratch, bow-wow-wow, and, "bing!" the topmost branches of the singing tree popped up and almost struck billy in the face. "hello!" cried billy, "where are your roots? i don't see anything but branches." "two miles below, where they ought to grow," sang the tree. "come, hold on tight, you'll be all right." and billy seized the branch that held itself out to him. "hold on there, i want to speak to you," called the voice that had teased him so. "i'll hold on," called billy, "but i'll soon be out of your hearing." down grew the tree; shorter and shorter it grew, and sure enough, in a minute billy was on solid ground and mirage town had disappeared from view. chapter vi. blind man's buff. billy made an early start the next morning so that he could get away from the desert before the sun rose to its full height. and indeed the pink had just begun to appear in the east when he looked below him and saw once more trees and grass and streams of water. "thank goodness, i am clear of the burning desert at last," he said to himself--"ugh!! though, here i am falling, and i know i'll be drenched passing through that cloud." "plump--squash," and he was in the cloud, "there--it wasn't so bad after all. why there's honey girl's palanquin." sure enough he had alighted within a few feet of honey girl, general merchandise and the bee soldiers all sound asleep. "who--o, who--o--who--o goes there?" cried a large owl, perched on the limb of a tree above the sleepers' heads. "i'm not going, i'm coming," said billy. "who--o--o--who--o--o--who--o--o are you?" "billy bounce." "that's not the right answer," cried general merchandise, jumping to his feet, "you must say, a friend." "a friend then," answered billy. "not a friend then or now--just say a friend," said the general. "a friend." "that's right--advance and give the what-you-may-call-it." "the what?" asked billy. "the counter sign i mean." "i don't know it." "well i suppose i'll have to tell you, seeing it's you--it's bogie man," said the general. "bogie man," repeated billy. "there, that's all over--now you may sit down." "thank you--but--but what has happened to the soldiers, they seem to have lost their arms--have you had a battle?" "oh! no--" answered the general proudly, "that's my own idea, you've read of soldiers before a battle sleeping on their arms, haven't you?" "yes." "well, every night our soldiers take off their arms and sleep on them; of course, it was a little uncomfortable at first, but it's very military." "yes, i suppose so," said billy, dubiously, "but who is that--a--gentleman up in the tree?" "you mean the owl?" "yes-s, i thought he looked like an owl." "that's our sentry--he does it very cheap by the night, because he says he has to stay awake anyway, and he might as well stay awake here and get paid for it," answered the general. "how is princess honey girl?" "well--very well, in fact, but a little nervous; you see bumbus and the scally wags are on our trail and she feels uneasy." "bumbus!" cried billy. "yes--he is a renegade bee you know, and it makes him very bitter against the princess. you haven't seen anything of them lately, have you?" "no, i have not. but who are the scally wags?" "oh! they're terrible fellows. i can't tell you what they look like for i've never seen them, but many a time i've read of their doings in 'the morning bee.'" "good morning, billy bounce," said honey girl, opening the curtains of her palanquin. "general, isn't it time to sound the reveille?" [illustration: _the bee bugler._] "exactly, we must get our soldiers up bee-times," said the general, saluting. "_bugler._" up jumped a little bee, saluted, plucked a trumpet flower and gave the reveille. "i can't get 'em up, i can't get 'em up, i can't get 'em up in the morning, the corporal's worse than the private, the sergeant's worse than the corporal, the lieutenant's worse than the sergeant, and the captain's worse than them all." and in a second the whole camp was buzzing with soldiers. "there--how's that?" said the general proudly. "splendid," said billy--then turning to the princess, "i have thought of you many, many times since i last saw you, princess honey girl." "and i have thought of you, billy bounce: perhaps some day when this cruel war is over you can visit my aunt and myself in the bee palace," said the princess. "perhaps," said billy, "and i don't believe that time is far distant, for when i once find bogie man i shall----" "buzz-z-z--there they are--there they are," called a voice--and looking up and away to the east billy saw bumbus and several objects that he knew at once for scally wags. "princess, you must leave at once," he cried. "right again," said the general. "we can outfly them--company, 'tenshun!!!--fix stings--carry palanquin--forward--fly!" and up and off went the whole company, the princess waving good-bye to billy. indeed he was so intent on watching her and waving to her that when he did come to himself and realized that it was time he got away, it was too late. "buzz-z-z--here's billy bounce," cried bumbus, settling down at his side. "he-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the scally wags in one voice, tweaking his nose and his ears and pinching his legs. and though the tweaks and the pinches hurt, billy couldn't help laughing at the funny little figures. such great flapping ears, such wide slits of mouths set in a continual grin, such long arms, such round, funny little stomachs and such gay parti-colored clothes. "well, boy," said bumbus, poking him in the ribs, "what are you laughing at?" "at your friends, the scally wags," said billy. "bite him on the wrist," cried the head scally wag angrily. "bite me," laughed billy, "why you haven't a full set of teeth between you." and it was true, for there was only one tooth to a scally wag. "be quiet," said bumbus, "i'm thinking! where's that note nickel plate gave you?" billy did not answer. "did you hear me?" billy nodded yes. [illustration: "_he-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the scally wags._--page .] "then why don't you answer? come, speak up," cried bumbus in a temper. "i thought you said to be quiet, that you wanted to think," said billy, looking very, very innocent. "you'll pay for this," said bumbus. "what, the thought?" asked billy. "you shouldn't sell it if it is the only one you have, you'll probably need it some time." "gr-r-r-r-r-r-r, buz-z-z-z-z," was all that bumbus could answer, he was so angry. "leave him to me," said the head scally wag. "i'll joke him to death." "do your worst," said bumbus, regaining his breath. "no, i'll do my best. here's a conundrum, little fat boy--but you mustn't answer it correctly." "why not?" said billy. "oh! that's against the rules of the game; no wag, not even a scally wag expects his conundrums to be answered correctly." "why do you ask me then?" "so that i can laugh at you for not knowing the answer." "but that's nonsense," persisted billy. "of course it is--we scally wags are all nonsense." "well, go ahead." "what time will it be this time last week?" "you mustn't say will it be, but was it." "have you ever heard this conundrum before?" "no," said billy. "well, you see i have--it's my conundrum and i guess _i_ know what i ought to say." "then it will be the same time that it is now," answered billy. "wrong--wrong again," said the head scally wag. "it will be a week earlier." "ha-ha-ho-ho-he-he, oh! what a joke," cried the scally wags again, tweaking, pinching and punching billy. "if you do that again i'll pitch into you," cried billy angrily. "there, that will do," interrupted bumbus; then hummed, "boys delight to bark and bite, it is their nature to, but every cat has many lives and thereby hangs a tale." "but that doesn't rhyme," said billy. "of course not--why should it?" asked bumbus. "wasn't it meant for a poem?" "certainly not; it was meant for the truth." "but it's not the truth." "i didn't say it was the truth," said bumbus. "you just said it was meant for the truth," said billy. "yes, _meant_ for the truth--it was just an imitation, so there's no more truth than poetry in it." "it's my turn now," said the head scally wag. "we couldn't joke him to death, so lets tickle him into little bits." "oh, don't!" cried billy; "i'm ticklish." "so much the better," said bumbus. "but if you will give up the note we'll let you go." "i can't do that," said billy decidedly, "i've got to carry that to bogie man." "come on," cried the scally wags, and they swarmed over billy digging their fingers in the spots where he should have been ticklish. but of course they didn't know that he had on his air suit, and the more they tickled the more serious billy looked. "no use," said the head scally wag, sinking down on the ground exhausted. "we would need a sledge-hammer to tickle that boy." "give him laughing gas," suggested bumbus. "just the thing," cried the scally wags. "wait a minute," said billy, "just let me have one little game before you give me the gas." "as a last request?" asked bumbus. "yes." "well what is it? speak quickly, for time is short and life is long you know." "i want to play a game of blind man's buff," said billy. "that sounds reasonable," said bumbus. "how do you play it?" "first you must all tie your handkerchiefs over your eyes." "ha--ha--he--he--ho--ho--. oh! what a joke," cried the scally wags, "we all carry pocket handkerchiefs." "and then?" said bumbus. "then," said billy, "you all try to catch me." "is that all?" asked bumbus. "yes." "what fun--ha--ha--he--he--ho--ho," said the scally wags, "what a game to be sure." billy had some difficulty tying the handkerchiefs around the scally wags' heads on account of their enormous ears, but finally they were all blindfolded. bumbus was tied up in a jiffy. "go," cried billy, at the same time leaping into the air, and bumbus and the scally wags all made a rush for the spot where he had stood. "i've got him--i've got him," cried all the scally wags, hanging on to bumbus. "i've got him," cried bumbus, catching hold of a scally wag. and billy laughed aloud to see them scrambling and pushing and jostling one another in their efforts to catch him. even when he was just a moving black speck on the horizon bumbus and the scally wags were still struggling. chapter vii. the wishing bottle. "i can't understand why bumbus wanted to take that note away from me," billy said to himself as he floated along. "first he and nickel plate employed me to carry it and now he tries to hinder me. why of course--i know--he is aware that princess honey girl has told me her story and fears that when once i do find bogie man i will vanquish him--so i shall, too. i wonder what the future will bring." "won't you have your fortune told sir?" and billy looked up to see sailing along at his side a very old, very withered woman sitting on a broom. "why it's a witch," said billy. "i'm not a which, i'm a was," said the old woman. "oh! i beg your pardon, ma'am," said billy, "i saw that you were riding a broom." "well what of it--the broom's willing." "i didn't mean it that way," began billy. "oh! you mean you meant it any way. but this is not having your fortune told," interrupted the old woman. "come right into the house." and sure enough billy discovered that he was standing in front of a little old house, as wrinkled and ugly and out of repair as the old woman. "what town is this?" he asked. "superstitionburg--don't bump into the ladder." "what is that for?" "oh! we all have ladders over our doors here for bad luck. sit down and i'll get the cards and tell your fortune." "thank you," said billy, "will it be true?" "no, of course not. ah--h! you have lately had serious trouble." "that's true," said billy. "then i've made a mistake. you will marry a tall, short, blonde dark complected man." "hold on," said billy, "i'm a boy--how can i marry a man?" "there i knew something was wrong. i have the deck of cards that i tell ladies' fortunes with--shall i try it over again?" "no, i think not," said billy, "i must be going." "purr-r-r-r-r, purr-r-r-r," and a great black, hump-backed cat with glaring green eyes and nine long black tails rubbed against his leg. "oh!" he cried, "what a large cat." "yes," said the old woman, "that's my black cat-o-nine tails. i'm very proud of him, he's the unluckiest cat of the entire thirteen in superstitionburg." "unlucky?" "yes, the cats always sit thirteen at table for bad luck. as there never is more than enough for twelve and as he always gets his share he brings bad luck to one of the cats every meal. isn't that nice?" "but isn't that hard on the extra cat?" "oh! no they don't mind at all--it's so good for the digestion." "won't you have a cup of poison before you go?" "poison?" said billy, edging toward the door. [illustration: _"that's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman._--page .] "yes. i have some lovely poison, i brewed it myself; _do_ have some." "no thank you, i--i really am not thirsty, and i _must_ go." "i don't see how you are going to get away now, the town guard knows you are here and is bound to arrest you if your eyes are not crossed." "what have i done?" asked billy. "nothing, only it's not bad luck to meet a straight-eyed person, and if you can't bring somebody bad luck you're not allowed in the city." "but how do they know i am here?" "their noses are itching because a stranger has come to call. their noses are very sensitive to strangers. it makes them such careful guards." "have they guns?" asked billy. "oh! yes, they all have guns that are not loaded." "oh! well, then, they can't shoot me." "i guess you don't know much about guns--because it is always guns that are not loaded that shoot people." "that's so, i had forgotten," said billy. "but as you are a witch, can't you----" "i am a was, remember." "i mean as you are a was--can't you help me?" "i can lend you my invisible cloak," said the old woman, going to a closet and taking nothing out of it. "here it is," handing billy nothing at all very carefully. "but where is it?" asked billy. "i just gave it to you." "i don't see it." "of course not--it's invisible." "then if i put it on will it make me invisible?" "certainly not--it's the cloak that's invisible." "have you anything else?" asked billy. "yes, i have the wishing bottle." "shall i be able to see that?" "oh! yes--here it is." "why that's hair dye, it says on the label." "sh-h--don't speak so loud--that's all it is, but you see it turns the hair so black that it almost makes it invisible. it's the best i can do for you. but don't tell anyone--it would ruin my reputation as a cuperess." "a cuperess?" asked billy. "yes, i cast charms." "what kind?" "all kinds but watch charms." "i thought that was a sorceress." "i used to be, but it's rude to drink poison out of a saucer now, and so i am a cuperess." "thank you very much for the wishing bottle," said billy. "i don't know that i shall need it, but i'll take it anyway." "bad luck to you," called the old woman. "by the way where are you going now?" "to bogie man's house," answered billy. "what have i done--what have i done--i'll have to stop him--if i only hadn't been a was i might have guessed this was the boy," said the old woman, wringing her hands. but billy didn't hear this; he was busy examining the left hind foot of a rabbit displayed in a shop window. "my cats," cried she, "i'll send them after him," and opening an inner door she called: "stingaree, stangaree, whollop and whim, mizzle and muzzle, luckety, limb, niddle and noddle and puzzlecat too, roly and poly, i need all of you." as each name was called, out ran a great black hump-backed cat-o'-nine-tails, and by the time she was done the thirteen of them were standing in front of her, their tails swishing back and forth with a noise like a hurricane. "run and catch that boy for me," said she, pointing to billy. and off they scampered. "what a wind is coming up," said billy to himself when he heard the cats behind him. "meow-w-w--" and turning round he saw the great cats bounding after him. "they're after me--i'm sure," he said to himself, "but i can jump." alas for billy, he was standing under a ladder when he spoke, and when he jumped "bump" he hit his head on the topmost rung. quick as a flash he reached out his hand and caught the ladder--and there he hung, dangling in mid air with thirteen great cats meowing and spitting and yowling on the ground just out of reach of his feet. "this won't do--they will climb the ladder in a moment. the wishing bottle: maybe i can blind them with the dye." holding on tight with one hand, he fished the bottle out of his pocket. "if i only had something to turn them into white cats," he said, staring at the bottle, "maybe they would become harmless." and just at that minute a thought struck him so hard that it almost knocked loose his hold on the ladder. "this is black dye," said he; "perhaps if i reverse the label, it will become white dye. i'll try it anyway." and quick as thought he had loosened the label and turned it upside down. certain it is that the contents of the bottle changed to a snow-white on the instant. out came the cork. "blub--blub--gog--gurgle, splash," and the cats were drenched with the liquid. "pouf," and where billy had seen thirteen black cats appeared thirteen snow-white ones. the cats looked at one another in astonishment for a moment, and then forgetting all about billy, began to flog one another with their nine tails. "white ca-a-a-a-at--meow--flog him out of town," and off they went flogging each other mercilessly, each one thinking that he was the only black cat in the whole town and determined to beat the strangers out of superstitionburg. "there's some good in hair dye after all," laughed billy, and dropping to the ground, he stepped from under the ladder, leaped into the air, and bade farewell to superstitionburg for ever and ever. chapter viii. gammon and spinach. billy didn't know how long he had been sleeping when he was awakened by a loud galloping. "who in the world can be riding through the forest so fast and furiously at this time of the night?" he exclaimed to himself. "i hope it's no one after me. i want to go to sleep." "thunder--col-lop--col-lop--col-lop," came the hoof beats nearer and nearer, "clop--clop, clop--clap--clap," and the gallop had changed into a trot. nearer and yet nearer came the sound. "it's coming here sure enough. i must get up and meet him, whoever he is," but when billy tried to move he found himself bound hand and foot. "well, this is a fine how-de-do," he said, after vain attempts to release himself. "how-de-do," said a little voice in his ear. "who are you?" asked billy, in surprise. "i'd really like to tell you, but if i did, you'd know, you know." so saying, a little figure jumped up on billy's chest and sat there with his face all screwed up as if he were making fun. "who are you laughing at?" asked billy. "oh! what a good spring board you make," said the little man, jumping up and down on billy's chest. and the rubber suit did make a fine jumping place for him. "i asked you a question," said billy, indignantly. "that's not my fault." "aren't you going to answer me?" "give it up; try me with another," said the little man. "another what?" asked billy. "another question of course, and if i can't answer that you owe me two forfeits--by the way how many does that make?" "what?" "two forfeits--does it make eight feet or four fore feet?" "i don't know, i'm all mixed up," said billy, "how many?" "well, seven times two makes twenty-four, doesn't it?" "yes--no-no--of course not; it makes fourteen." "how can i expect you to understand if you know how to figure? well, well, here's night mare after all--i thought she was never coming." and sure enough up galloped a great night mare. now some people say that night mare looks just exactly like a horse, but billy knows better, for he saw this one very, very plainly. her body was made of a long hard bolster, her legs of the four posts of a bedstead, her neck was a pillow, her head a piano stool, her eyes were two night lamps, and her tail was mosquito netting. "here's billy bounce," called a chorus of voices from her back, and down scrambled a cabbage, a carrot, a plum pudding, a mince pie, a welch rabbit, a pot of jam, and goodness knows how many other things that little boys should not eat. "is gammon there?" called a voice. "yes: is that spinach?" answered the little man on billy's chest. "come on, i've got billy bounce tied down tight and we can make a splendid spring board of him." "but where do i come in?" asked the night mare plaintively; "aren't you going to let me have a little horse play?" "certainly," said gammon, "when we're through you can take a little ride on billy--and be sure you ride him so hard that he can never get to never was and bogie man." [illustration: _spinach._] "by the manes of my ancestors i'll do that," said the night mare. "i'll put him to the rack, never fear." [illustration: _the night mare and the dream food sprites._--page .] "then tie yourself to the singing tree while the rest of us are playing." "i don't want to be tied," said the night mare sulkily. "now do as you're told," said gammon. "suppose you should run away from yourself and leave yourself behind, how would you ever get home?" "well, if i must i must," said the mare, wiping an oil tear from her eye. "come on everyone," called gammon. "but wait a minute," said billy. "who are you? you look like good things to eat." "who are we? we're bad things to eat," and joining hands in a circle about billy they began to dance and sing. the song of the dream food sprites. cream food, scream food, we are the things for dream food; moan food and groan food, any of us alone would fill the tummy of one small boy, and give him dreams--oh! joy, oh! joy. puddings and pies and cakes and jam, turkey and fish and meat and ham, candy and carrots and plums and lamb, boys _will_ eat and stuff and cram. we are the things, we are the things, the things that dreams are made of. and as they sang "fill the tummy of one small boy," they dropped hands, formed a long line, and one by one leaped on to billy's stomach, bounded into the air, turned a double somersault and landed, laughing and shouting, on the ground on the other side, for all the world like acrobats in the circus. "please let me try," said night mare. "i promise not to run away." "oh! no, no, no," cried billy. "night mare will kill me." "that's a good idea," said gammon; "shall we?" "not yet," answered spinach; "i want to have some more fun before that happens." "so do we all," cried the others. "oh! pshaw," said night mare, "you never let me have any fun--i don't know why i brought you here." "why we brought you, you mean," said gammon. "if it wasn't for us you'd stay in your stall all night." "excuse me--i forgot," said night mare humbly. "well, don't be ungrateful, that's all," said spinach severely. "some people never know when they're badly off." gammon had perched himself again on billy's chest. "why don't you get up and go to bogie man?" he laughed, trying to poke his fingers in billy's eye. "i can't, i'm tied," said billy. "time and tide wait for no man," said gammon; "of course you're not time but you're tied." "i don't see why everybody tries to keep me from seeing bogie man," said billy. "because you want to see him," said gammon. "that's no reason," said billy. "certainly not--there's no reason about any of us, most of all bogie man. you know the old proverb says-- 'he that will not when he may will live to fight another day.' i suppose you would say there was no reason to that." "i certainly should," said billy. "and there you are wrong," answered gammon; "there is a reason for all things, only some things have lost their reason." "now you've contradicted yourself," said billy; "you just said that there was no reason about any of you." "i have a perfect right to contradict myself--it's only rude to contradict other people." "but which is correct?" "both." "how can they both be correct?" "i don't know, but they are--but my, my, we're wasting time--we've got to dispose of you before morning." "why before morning?" asked billy. "i'm in no hurry." "you never are," said gammon. "night mare, are you ready for your ride?" "yes, i will have to start now if i am to have any kind of a canter before the cock crows." "good!" whispered billy to himself. "i wonder if i can still crow. it's worth trying, anyway--cock-a-doodle-do!" and snap, the night mare, had broken her hitching-strap and was off in a jiffy with gammon and spinach and all the other dream sprites running pell-mell after her as fast as they could go. billy shook himself; sat up, to prove that he was no longer tied down; lay back, rolled over, and in a minute was sound asleep. when billy woke up the next morning he felt stiff and sore from being tied down so long by gammon, and very heavy about the eyes from his lack of sleep. "i don't feel very hungry this morning, singing tree," he said; "i think i'll save my appetite for to-night. may i have some eggs?" no sooner said than done-- "higglepy, piggleby, my black hen, she lays eggs for gentlemen: sometimes nine and sometimes ten, higglepy, piggleby, my black hen!" sang the singing tree, and held out a bowl of nine steaming hot eggs. "she is a very good hen, isn't she?" said billy, "and i suppose, under the circumstances, she must consider me a gentleman, even if i do sometimes forget to brush the cow-lick on the crown of my head. m-m, how good!" he broke three nice eggs into the cup the tree held out to him, dropped a delicious lump of butter into the cup, shook in a little pepper and a little salt, and sat down on the ground to enjoy his breakfast. "give the hen back her eggs, and as they are cooked," he said, laughing, "maybe if she sits on them she will hatch out a chicken fricassee for dinner." and he went to work with a light heart. he had just gotten down to the last mouthful when a little speck of pepper that had flown into his nose when he seasoned his eggs made him sneeze. "gehsundheit!" and there stood the little german count who had been so powerless to help him in eggs aggeration. "eggs again, isn't it?" said gehsundheit. "that's so," said billy. "how do you do?" "vell, i haf been resting mineself since i saved your life in dot egg city." "saved my life--i'd like to know----" "vat," said gehsundheit, "you mean to say dat i did _not_ save it?" "indeed i do," said billy warmly. "ach, de ungratitude of boys--and after mr. gas thanked me so kindly for vat i did for you." "well, what did you do?" "did i not lend you a pocket handkerchief?" "yes, but that didn't save my life." "of course you say it did not, but it did." "how?" asked billy. "you used it to gag the jailer--iss it not?" "certainly not; i didn't gag him." "dat is not my fault; you could have gagged him with it, could you not?" "perhaps," said billy, "but i didn't think of that." "ach, so, vat did i tell you--am i to be plamed because you did not think of it?" said gehsundheit. "but you didn't suggest it--you didn't think of it yourself." "perhaps not at the time--but i thought of it afterwards and said--so i haf saved his life. now can you say i did not?" "i think i'd rather not say," said billy. "as you vish--but here," and gehsundheit struck an attitude and pointed to his heart, "here i haf de satisfaction of knowing dat i am a brave hero and a great magician." "well, if you're pleased," said billy, "that's something." "you are right," said gehsundheit, bowing low; "to be pleased vit oneself iss enough. but i accept your apology." "what apology?" "when you said gehsundheit, you are a brave hero. mr. gas shall know how pleased you are with me." billy looked hard at gehsundheit to see if he was joking, but he looked so seriously well pleased with himself that billy did not have the heart to argue further. "and what do you want now?" said gehsundheit "nothing," said billy. "you shall haf it at once," said gehsundheit. "it iss a hard task you ask of me, but you shall haf it." "but i said nothing," said billy. "exactly--but fear not----" and spinning around on one toe, waving his arms above his head and ending by kissing his fingers, gehsundheit rolled up his sleeves and said, "you vill notice dat i haf no cuffs to deceive you--and yet de hand is quicker as de eye--mumbo, jumbo, zip, boom, rah--it iss here." and reaching out he caught a handful of air, gravely handed it to billy and disappeared. chapter ix. in silly land. it was afternoon, and billy was resting in the shade of the singing tree while barker played about at his side. he was laughing softly to himself over his experience with gehsundheit that morning. "he's a funny little fellow--calls himself a hero. ha! ha! ha!" "woof, woof, woof!" said barker, and billy looked up just in time to see him rush madly at a man and try to bury his teeth in his leg. i say try, because if there was ever a surprised dog in all the world that dog was barker. billy could hear his teeth grit and scrape on the man's leg, but he made no more impression on it than if it had been made of stone; and that's not strange, because it _was_ stone. barker opened his jaws, ran back a few feet, stared at the man's leg, then up at his face, tucked his little button of a tail between his legs, gave one yelp of terror, and leaped into billy's arms. it is hard to tell whether it was surprise at his failure or the man's face that frightened barker--perhaps it was both. certainly the face was enough to frighten any well-brought-up dog. he was made entirely of stone; even his constant smile showed the chisel marks; but his head was the oddest part of him--just one straight line from the tip of his nose to the top of his head. "hello! where did you come from?" asked billy. "from the quarry," said the man. "i'm an aztec fragment. can't you tell that from my well-chiseled features? he-he-he! that's a good, silly joke, isn't it? you see: stone--my well-chiseled features--stone chiseled. he-he-he!" "who is that back of you?" "that's my sister, her terics. i'm his terics. does your dog bite?" said the fragment, and he and his sister burst into gales of laughter. [illustration: _the aztec fragments: his terics and her terics._] "sometimes, when he's hungry," said billy, knowing that they were making fun of him; "but he's not very fond of stone legs." "he-he! that's funny. he ought to eat stone; it would give him grit." "i don't see anything funny about that." "neither do i, but it is silly, isn't it?" said the man, and he and his sister giggled harder than ever. "well, of all the sillies i ever saw," said billy in disgust. "silly is as silly does, in silly land," said the fragment; and again he and her terics laughed until billy thought their stone sides would crack. "look out," said he, "you'll burst." "we've already bursted," said his terics. "where?" "we've bursted into laughter of course. he-he-my-my, but isn't that a good joke?" "you enjoy your own jokes, don't you?" said billy, trying to be sarcastic. "so would you if you could make them--i was just cut out for a joker--he-he-he." "_i_ should say that you were just plain foolish," said billy. "why do you laugh so at nothing?" "because we've just brains enough to be silly, and of course we have to laugh at everything whether its anything or nothing--isn't that so, her?" "yes," said the girl. "he-he-he." "for goodness' sake stop giggling," said billy; "you set my teeth on edge." "he-he-ho-ho, that's good," cried his terics, "but suppose they weren't on edge and lay flat in your mouth, you would have to lie on your side to chew. he-he-he." "stop it," said billy, "i'm so nervous now i could jump out of my skin." "oh, _do_," laughed both of them, "please do; that would be awfully funny!" "he-he-he! yes," said his terics, "then you would be beside yourself, wouldn't you?" "well, i can't waste time with you any longer, i'm going." "you think you're going but you're not--he-he-he," said his terics. "i'll show you." "oh! no--he-he-he oh! no, but you'll not, you know--he-he-he," said both of them, suddenly throwing their arms around his neck. billy fought and squirmed and kicked, but of course as the fragments were stone they easily held him down, nor could he make any impression on them with his heels or fists. "oh! don't go--please don't go," said his terics; "i really shouldn't go if i were you--he-he-he." "that's all right," panted billy, "you've got me now, but remember that he who laughs last laughs best." "i know that," said his terics, "because i laughed last and it was the best i've had in a long time." "let me go," said billy, "i've a message to deliver to bogie man." "that's the reason we're here," said his terics, "but we will take the message--he-he-he, oh! yes, we will take the message." "i have to deliver it myself--and besides i don't believe you'd take it to him anyway." "of course not--we'd take it, but just out of your pocket--he-he-he-he! ho-ho!" "oh! here comes the gillies," cried her terics. "now we will have some fun." billy looked in the direction in which she pointed and saw three very, very stupid looking fellows slouching toward them. when the gillies got up to where billy and the fragments stood, they stopped, and without looking up one of them said: "do you know where his terics and her terics are?" "here we are," cried his terics, "at least we think we're here, if we're not won't you go find us and then come back and tell us where we're to be found--he-he-he." "why, so you are," cried the first speaker. "i didn't think to look." "who are these people?" asked billy. "gillies," explained his terics--"big gillie, silly gillie, and dottie gillie." "you don't happen to know whether or no the moon is made of green cheese, do you, boy?" asked big gillie. "of course it's not," said billy. "thank you--you're sure i suppose." "certainly." "my, my, my, the poor man in the moon--i wonder what he eats," and big gillie began to weep. "there is no man in the moon," said billy. "no man in the moon!" cried all the gillies and all the aztecs in one breath. "no." "wicked boy," said his terics. "we were warned by nickel plate that you didn't believe in your mother goose, but we didn't think it would be this bad." "what is the harm if i don't believe in such things?" asked billy. "why if all the children in the world stopped believing in wicked giants, and bogie man, and witches and bad things generally, they would have to go to work and earn an honest living," said his terics. "what do they do now?" "they all have more business than they can attend to frightening children. it's very easy work, and most amusing to make little children shiver and shake and cry, especially when we all know that there never was one of the wicked ones that could really hurt anyone that is not afraid. but my, my! i'm divulging state secrets--that's what comes of trying to be serious," and his terics grinned sadly. "what shall we do with the boy?" asked silly gillie. "tie his feet together and make him run himself to death," suggested dottie gillie. "how could i run if my feet were tied?" asked billy. "i don't know," said dottie, "that's why i suggested it--there is nothing like finding out for certain." "i know," said her terics, "make him laugh at your jokes, brother; that will be an awful punishment--he-he-he." "or yours," said his terics; "that would be worse. no, we will tie him out here for a year and let him think things over; then if he promises to go straight home we will let him go." "but i'd starve," said billy. "don't be obstinate," said silly gillie, "or we'll make it two years." "hand me the rope," said his terics. "which one of us has it?" said the big gillie; "have you, brother, or you?" "i don't know, have we?" said the other two. "i don't know, i'm sure," said the big one, "maybe i have it." at that each one began to search in the others' pockets for the rope. "not in your pockets, you gillies," said her terics. "he-he-he, how funny!" said his terics, "not in your pockets." "well, it might have been, you never can tell," said big gillie. "i don't believe any of us has it; hold this," handing his coil of rope to his brother, "while i hunt in my hat." the other gillies took the rope and stood looking at their brother while he took his hat off his head and tore the lining out. "there--you two are holding it," said his terics, almost beside himself. "you, big gillie, just handed it to your brother." "so you did--what a coincidence!" said they. "why of course," said big gillie, "how foolish of you! i knew all the time that _i_ didn't have it." "now tie him tight," said his terics. "we'll do that," answered big gillie, and in a jiffy they had tied, not billy at all, but his terics and her terics, though they still held billy. "oh! you gillies," cried his terics, "can't you see you've tied up the wrong persons?" "how strange!" said the gillies, letting go of billy in their surprise. "now is my chance," thought billy, and stepped away to get room for his jump. "safe," he had just said to himself, when he found himself caught by his collar. "not yet, my fine fellow," said a voice. "haha, so it is you," said nickel plate, tapping his boots with the limber cane he carried. "nickel plate," cried billy. "nickel plate," cried the aztec fragments and the gillies. "foiled--foiled again," he hissed between his teeth; "then you recognize me--tell--a--me--do you?" "of course," said billy. "he recognizes me in spite of my disguise--strange--strange," said nickel plate. "oh! are you disguised?" asked billy. "sh-h-h, not so loud. yes, completely disguised--even an utter stranger would not know me--i have changed my mind." "wonderful!" said big gillie; "if we had not seen your face and figure we should never have known you." "ha-ha, you see?" said nickel plate, shaking billy. "yes sir," said billy. "he-he-he," laughed her terics, "how funny!" "isn't it silly?" said his terics. "what?" asked the others. "i just happened to think of a joke about a mind." "what is it?" asked nickel plate, "and look sharp because we're wasting time." "never mind--he-he-he," and her terics threw back her head and laughed aloud. "enough," thundered nickel plate--"boy, where are those papers?" "what papers, sir," asked billy. "the note, base varlet--the note, or by me halidom----" "the note for bogie man?" interrupted billy. "yes, but why in the world did you interrupt me?" said nickel plate, pettishly. "i've been studying that speech for a week, and now you've put it out of my head." "where did he put it? i'll find it," said big gillie, looking on the ground. "he-he-he," laughed the aztecs. "i'm sorry, sir," began billy. "it's all very well to say you're sorry, but i know you're glad you're sorry. the note, give it to me." "i can't, sir," said billy. "you dare to refuse?" "i'm sorry, sir----" "don't use that word again; give me the note," said nickel plate. "i can't, sir, it is addressed to bogie man, and i must carry it to him." "ah! but i have learned that in delivering it you would betray us. i _must_ have it back. besides it is not needed, honey girl is in me power, ha-ha!" billy's heart sank way, way down into his boots. "you have captured honey girl?" he asked in a trembling voice. "yes, even now she languishes in a donjon cell, ha-ha. to-morrow she goes to work in the factory, while glucose takes her place in the queen bee palace." "you villain," cried billy. "thank you, thank you most kindly, me boy, not only a villain, but a polished villain." "she won't stay there long after i have seen bogie man." nickel plate snapped his fingers in billy's face. "that for you, i do not fear your threats, i have you in me power now." "that for you," cried all the aztecs and the gillies, snapping their fingers and treading on billy's toes, just to show that they didn't fear him. "the note--the note, or i shall strike you to the gr-r-ound," cried nickel plate, and raising his cane he stepped back to strike. but it was a fatal step, for he stumbled over big gillie and fell flat on his back. in falling he let go of billy's collar, and you may be sure billy didn't waste any time in jumping up and away. "catch him," cried nickel plate. "certainly," cried the gillies, stumbling over each other. "certainly," cried his terics and her terics, stumbling over the gillies and falling plump onto nickel plate. and you can well imagine that it was not a very light fall. "ugh!" groaned nickel plate. "how funny. he-he-he," laughed the fragments, rolling over and over on nickel plate. "'rah! 'rah! 'rah!" cried billy, and floated away. chapter x. sea urchin and ne'er do eel. now, although billy felt very happy indeed to have escaped nickel plate, the aztec fragments, and the gillies, he was very much worried about honey girl. and as he floated along through the air he pictured her weeping in her lonely cell. "i wonder if nickel plate told me the truth," he said to himself, "and if he did, what happened to good old general merchandise and the bee soldiers. i wish i knew." "hello!" called a voice in his ear. he looked around but could see no one. "that's strange," he said. "hello!! is that billy bounce?" "yes. who are you and where are you?" said billy, in amaze. "i am mr. gas and i'm at home," said the voice. "then where am i?" said billy, thinking he had suddenly lost his mind. "you're wherever you are," said mr. gas's voice. "i'm talking to you over the wireless telephone--less telephone." "oh!" said billy, "how wonderful!" "you wanted to find out about princess honey girl, i believe." "yes, sir." "don't worry about her, she is perfectly safe--i have my eye on her as well as on you. how are you getting along?" "very well, thank you--but i suppose i'm still a long way off from bogie man's house?" "you are nearer than you were when you were not so near as you are now, so keep afloat and you will get there all right." "thank you," said billy; "i'll try." "well, good-bye--i thought i would ease your mind a bit--the suit can't carry you and a heavy heart very fast nor far, you know." "thank you," said billy, "good-bye." "now i feel lighter hearted," he said, and sure enough instead of falling (which he had just begun to do) he rose several feet in the air. but as the old proverb says, "what goes up, must come down," and in a few minutes he was on the ground again. this time he stood on the sandy beach of a great sea. "i wonder if i can jump all the way across," he said aloud. "ask me not in mournful numbers what o'clock a boy has dreams; sleep is real, sleep is earnest, hash is seldom what it seems." and a great gray-bearded eel wagged his head solemnly at billy from a few feet off the shore. "did you speak?" said billy. "no, i sang, which is worse," said the eel sadly. "i thought it was you." "it wasn't you, it was i," said the eel. "what a sad world it is, to be sure!" "how do you mean?" asked billy. "i don't mean, i swim, and that's a terrible bore." "i think swimming is lots of fun," said billy. "not when you do it for a living; it stops being fun when you have to." "i suppose so," said billy thoughtfully; "but then, you see, i've never had to do it for a living." "then don't ever take it up. i've been at it all my life, and i'm very tired; why, i've almost forgotten how to climb trees. what's your name?" "billy bounce." "so you're billy bounce. i'm ne'er do eel," and though he smiled, the eel looked very, very sly. "how do you do?" said billy politely. "i don't do; that's the reason i'm called ne'er do eel." "oh!" said billy, "then how don't you do?" "pretty badly, i don't thank you. but come, you must hear me sing; this song was discomposed by the whistling buoy, set to music by sand bars, and dedicated to me," and balancing himself on a large wave, the eel began to sing in a sad voice. the song of the ne'er do eel. the ne'er do eel raised his dreamy eye and said, with a ponderous, weary sigh, i'd really, yes, really try to try, but i'm tired to-day--let's go and lie in the cool sweet shade of an apple pie, and think of the which and what and why. oh! why is the whatness of which and when; if then were now what would be then? because and but--oh! what's the use. "to-morrow will do," is my excuse. "how's that?" said ne'er do eel when he had finished. "very pretty," said billy, "but is it--is it very sensible?" "i really don't know--nobody ever understands it, so of course it must be very fine." "i suppose so," said billy, wondering if ne'er do eel was quite in his right mind. "come in, the water's fine," called a funny, bristly little fellow popping his head up beside ne'er do eel. "no, thank you," said billy, not wishing to join company with such a prickly looking individual. "aw! come on--see, it's only so deep," and he held up one hand. "you're treading water," said billy. "how did you guess it?" asked the sea urchin. "i can see your feet." "so can i see your feet, but you're not treading water." "that has nothing to do with it," said billy. "just what i'm trying to prove to you," said the urchin. "are you coming in, or shall i have to come out and get you?" "neither," said billy, jumping up very, very hard, because he knew it would take a long leap to carry him over the sea. "good-bye." "i suppose they are harmless," said billy to himself, "but i'm glad enough to be away from them--that eel looks like a slippery old fellow and the urchin has a bad face." up, up, up he went, floated forward quite a distance, stopped just a second, and then began to fall. "i believe i am going to make it," he began, and then looked beneath him. alas! poor billy, the shore was yet far distant, and he knew that he was bound to fall into the sea. how he did kick and wave his arms! he even tried to swim through the air, but, though this helped him a little, it didn't carry him far enough forward to reach the shore. "thank goodness i have on my rubber suit; i can't sink anyway," said he. and splash he hit the water, where he bobbed up and down like a cork. but his troubles were not yet over, for he was horrified to see ne'er do eel and the sea urchin swimming along at his side. "so you decided to drop in on us after all," said the urchin. "have you chosen a life on the bouncing wave as a profession?" asked ne'er do eel, "in spite of my warning that you would do well to bid farewell to well-faring if you chose sea-faring?" "yelp, yelp!" said barker, climbing up onto billy's shoulder, where he stood shivering miserably. "what's that thing?" asked the sea urchin. "my dog," said billy. "don't tell me that's a dog fish," said ne'er do eel, "because i'll never believe you." "you don't have to," answered billy, "because he is not a dog fish, he's a dog." "oh, you mean a fish dog! you're sure he's not a bird dog--a flying fish dog, you know?" "no, just a plain dog." "he's plain enough, goodness knows--but a dog--humph!" "who ever heard of a dog without fins?" said the urchin; "why, it's ridiculous." "i expect there are lots of things you never heard of." it made billy angry to have his word doubted, especially when there was barker to prove them true. "ridiculous," said ne'er do eel. "how can we help seeing everything in the sea? he who sees seas sees everything in season." billy didn't think this worth answering, so he redoubled his efforts to reach the shore. my! how he did make the water boil, dashing spray way over his head, and making poor barker blink with the water he dashed into his eyes. "with a little practice you might learn to swim," said the urchin, "but you make lots of fuss in the water." "so would you on dry land," panted billy. "but we wouldn't be so silly as to go on dry land," said the eel. "i suppose that's as much as to say that it's silly of me to come into the sea." "take it or leave it--if the white cap fits you don't put it on," said the urchin, turning a somersault in the water. "where are you going?" asked ne'er do eel. "yes, you seem in a great hurry," said the urchin. "i'm going ashore as fast as i can," said billy. "that's your first guess--try another," said the eel, sticking his face up into billy's. "i don't guess it, i know it," answered billy, striving to keep his courage up. "no, is the right answer," said the sea urchin. "why shouldn't i go ashore?" "just because," replied the eel, "oh! gracious what a sad world it is--here's a boy that thinks he knows." "but how are you going to prevent it?" said billy. "i'm not afraid of you." "we will prevent it this way," said ne'er do eel, winding his tail around billy's legs. "and this way," said the sea urchin, pricking a hole in billy's suit with one of his bristles. poor billy felt himself getting thinner and thinner as the air bubbled out of the suit. and while he knew that he could swim and so keep afloat a while longer, he was well aware that in a very few minutes all would be over and he would go down, down, down to the bottom of the sea. barker seemed to know it too, for he whined piteously. "now tell me that there is not just one more fish in the sea that never was caught," said ne'er do eel triumphantly. billy didn't answer, for he knew that he must save his breath. but when he saw a plank floating just within reach he could not resist a feeble "hurrah." it required but a second for him to throw his arms over it and cling on for dear life. "that's what comes of having planked white fish for dinner," said ne'er do eel. the sea urchin, seeing what billy had done, swam madly about trying to find another opportunity for stinging him with his bristles, but was unable to make any impression through his wet clothes. ne'er do eel thrashed the water into a perfect foam in his efforts to drag billy and the plank down, but barring giving billy an occasional ducking and making barker yelp with fright he could do nothing. suddenly billy felt the plank sink deeper into the water so that his chin was barely above the surface. at the same moment a voice said "umberufen." and there balancing himself on the plank stood umberufen. "get off, you're sinking us!" cried billy. "you called me," said umberufen. "i didn't." "you touched wood and i'm sure it's very inconsiderate of you to call me way out here to sea." "i don't want you," said billy. "then you shouldn't have called me. goodness knows i'm not here because i want to be--i can feel myself warping already." "do go away," said billy; "can't you see it's all i can do to keep afloat?" "i'll help you," said umberufen. "how?" [illustration: _"get off, you're sinking us," cried billy._--page .] "i don't know. who is your friend with a face like a hair-brush?" "that's sea urchin, and he is trying to drown me." "you must not do that, you know," said umberufen, "it's very wrong." then turning to billy he whispered, "leave him to me; i'll give him a good talking to." "that's all you can do," said billy desperately--"talk, talk, talk! i don't want words, i want help." "come down, come down. oh! why be so obstinate?" cried the eel, lashing the water. "gentlemen," said umberufen, sticking one hand in the breast of his coat and bowing very low--almost too low, for just at that moment the plank twisted and he came very near going overboard--"gentlemen, you are doing very, very wrong." "bravo!" cried the sea urchin, "thank you for the compliment." "stop it and get away," cried billy. "ingrate," cried umberufen, "can't you see that already i have won their hearts--did you not hear the applause?" "of course i did," said billy, "but it's only because they want to keep you here so that they can pull me down. but if you really want to help me, for goodness' sake pump me up and stop the leak in my suit." "i wish i could," said umberufen; "but i am not a mechanic, i am a thinker." "you're a nuisance----" but just at that minute billy's feet touched bottom. looking up he found that in the excitement of the events he had drifted within a few feet of shore. splash, dash, curl bing! and a wave had carried him well ashore. ne'er do eel let go his hold when he saw the case was hopeless, and he and sea urchin bobbed about on the waves, shaking their fists and gnashing their teeth in despair at having lost him. "ugh!" cried umberufen, "i told you i'd get wet helping you," and there stood the miserable little man soaked through and through. "i warned you," said billy. "i--i--i kn-n-ow you-u-u d-d-did," said umberufen, his teeth chattering, "but i stood to my post like a man--that's what comes of being brave and brainy. good-bye. i'm going home to change my clothes," and away he went. "good-bye, ne'er do eel and sea urchin," called billy, running up the beach. "death on the bounding wave isn't as easy as you thought, is it?" chapter xi. in derby town. poor billy was in despair over his punctured suit. it is a good thing he had no mirror to see how like a broken toy balloon he looked, or he would have felt even worse. he tried pumping it up with his hot air pump, but it was no use--sizz-z, the air came right out of the hole. "if i had just thought to bring some bicycle tyre tape," he said, examining the puncture carefully, "or if i had some gum." when he said this barker ran up to him, and laying his head in his lap, looked up at him knowingly. "what is it, old doggie--do you feel sorry too? i'm sure i don't know what is to become of us; we shall have to walk now. of course we still have the singing tree. that's so, the tree--do you suppose you could bark up any other kind of tree? a gum tree--but how?" barker nodded his head and wagged his tail, as much as to say, "of course i can; just try me." "i have it!" cried billy, and tearing in two pieces the pocket-handkerchief that gehsundheit had given him, he carefully wrapped and tied one half of it over barker's lower set of teeth, and the other half over his upper set. it was a tedious operation, but finally barker stood before him with his teeth all hidden and nothing but his gums exposed. barker didn't mind, indeed he seemed to know just what billy was about, and capered and danced with glee. "now we will see what a gum bark will grow into," said billy, quickly digging a hole. over to it ran barker and stood holding his nose down--pinch. "wow--wow," went the dog, a muffled bark, for all the world like a toothless old man trying to talk. in a jiffy the dirt was shoveled in and up sprang--a gum tree. yes, there instead of the singing tree stood a gum tree, its branches laden with "yucatan," and "pepsin," and "tutti frutti." "hurrah!" cried billy, shaking down package after package of gum. and popping a great piece into his mouth he chewed away for dear life. quickly he spread the soft, sticky mass over a piece of cloth snipped from the lining of his jacket and pressed the whole thing over the puncture. it stuck as close and as tight as wall-paper, and billy knew that he was indeed repaired. "chug-ff--chug-ff--chug-ff--squee-ee!" went the hot air pump, and there stood billy as round and fat as ever with never a leak in his suit. "thank you, barker, old boy," said billy, patting barker's head and taking the handkerchief out of his mouth. "and now we must be off." so saying he tucked the dog under his arm and jumped up and away. far, far away they sailed. the gum seemed to have given the suit new life--and why shouldn't magic gum improve a magic suit? it seemed to billy that this jump was by far the longest he had ever taken. [illustration: _he saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears._--page .] indeed, he felt so very happy that he commenced to sing, "over the hills and far away"--but alas! for billy this was a fatal step. he had hardly gotten any further in his song than "far away," when he saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears. "i suppose i'm in for it now," he said to himself; "they look fierce enough to be some more of nickel plate's friends. i wonder if i shall ever get to bogie man's house, anyway." "gr-r-f gr-r-r!" growled the foremost bear when they got in speaking distance. "gr-r-r-r gr-r-r-rf!" growled the other bears. but true to his habit, billy put on a bold front, and smiling politely said, "good afternoon." "afternoon," said the first bear gruffly. and then all the bears surrounded billy and flew along by his side. billy was really very much disturbed by this, but turning to the largest bear, he said: "i see that you were bound in the opposite direction to me--and though i appreciate your company i wouldn't detain you for the world." "mind your own business!" growled the bear. "i'm trying to," said billy. "excuse me, i've seen many dancing bears, but i've never until now laid my eyes on flying ones." "we're bugbears, if that's what you want to know," said the bear in a surly voice. "thank you," said billy, smiling in hopes that by being very, very polite and pleasant himself he could improve their temper. "save your thanks, they are not wanted." "my goodness, you're as cross as----" "a bear," interrupted the big bear, "exactly, and i'm proud of it. what's the good of being polite--tell the truth, i say, no matter whom it hurts." "i'm sure that the truth is always best," said billy. "it's not," said the bear; "never tell it if it doesn't hurt. under those circumstances, i say, tell a bear faced lie." "you haven't a very sweet disposition, have you?" "no, thank goodness, i haven't--what would a bug bear do with a sweet disposition unless he could eat it?" "i don't know," said billy. "of course you don't--nobody ever said you did--boys don't know anything." "here we are," cried the little bug bear. and sure enough, they were standing in the strangest of strange looking towns. every house and every building was covered with an enormous derby hat, while the windows and doors were so arranged that at a little distance they looked like the eyes and nose and mouth of a face. "where are we?" asked billy, looking about him in surprise. "derby town--where else do you think?" said big bug bear. "i didn't know," said billy. "for goodness' sake, say something original," said the bear crossly. "what an idiot you are, to be sure!" billy ignored this remark. he had had some experience with cross people in his messenger service--people who were cross for no earthly reason but that he was a little boy--and he had always found it better to say as little as possible when they bullied him. nevertheless it made him very, very uncomfortable, and of course the more uncomfortable he got the more blunders he made. "can't you stand up--you're all feet, i declare," said big bug bear, when billy stumbled over a stone in the path. with that he gave him a push that nearly sent him on his face. "stand up, i tell you," said the bear, catching him by the arm and jerking him back so that he nearly fell on his back this time. "excuse me, sir--i didn't mean to," said billy, almost ready to cry. "didn't mean to, didn't mean to--don't tell me that; you did it on purpose, anyone can see that with half an eye." and with that all the bug bears took turns in pulling and jerking him about. billy was afraid to resent it, for their teeth looked very white and very sharp, and their claws looked very long, but he kept his eyes open for some means of escape. after a while, though, this exercise seemed to put them in a little better temper--just as it does lots of human bears--and they allowed billy to walk along with only an occasional cuff or jerk. "what are those?" billy finally ventured to ask, pointing to a row of tree-like things along the sidewalk. "hat trees, silly," said one of the bears. "can't you see the hat on the top?" "oh!" said billy, "they're very funny, aren't they?" "not a bit funny," said big bug bear, "and if you had to listen to their bands all night, you wouldn't think so either." "what kind of bands?" asked billy. [illustration: _the hat tree._] "hat bands of course--they're brimful of horrid noises." "oh!" said billy, and relapsed into silence. by this time they had walked quite a distance, and though billy had kept his eyes open for a chance to escape, one or another of the bears had hold of his arm all of the time. "i suppose you know why we have captured you?" said big bug bear, finally. "because you don't want me to find bogie man, i expect," said billy. "for once in your life you are correct--little credit to you, though." "but why?" "why what?" "why don't you want me to find him?" "he's our cousin for one thing, and for another thing, it's our business to keep people from doing anything they want to." "and you expect to keep me from it," asked billy. "indeed we do," said big bug bear. "how?" "you'll find out soon enough. now stop your talking." billy shut his lips tight and walked along with a sinking heart. "isn't he a sulky brat?" said little bug bear, "pouting along and not saying a word." "but you told me to stop talking," said billy. "don't be impertinent," said big bug bear, shaking him. "if you can't speak politely to your elders you needn't speak at all." my, my, how billy did hate the bug bears for that! pinching and beating, anything he had been through could not have hurt him worse than this treatment. the bug bears seemed to know it, for they bullied him back and forth, and forth and back until he thought he would go crazy. "here we are at last," said big bug bear, stopping in front of a prison-like derby house. "yes, and if this boy hadn't lagged so on the way, we'd have been here an hour ago," said another bug bear crossly. "get in with you." and giving billy a push through the door, he and the rest followed close after. indoors they were greeted by another bug bear. greeted is hardly the word, because that seems to mean some kind of a smile or a pleasant hand shake. as it was, the bug bear got up sulkily from a corner where he had been lying and grunted by way of "how do you do." "we've got billy bounce," said big bug bear. "huh! at last--it took you long enough, goodness knows," said the first speaker surlily. "we didn't come here to talk," said big bug bear angrily. "get to work." "what are you going to do to me--kill me?" asked billy. "no--not if you do what you're told," said little bug bear. "worse than that," said big bug bear. "we're going to operate on your eyes," said the owner of the place. "blind me?" cried billy. "oh! don't blind me." "wait and see," growled big bug bear. "oh! but i'd rather you killed me than put my eyes out--how could i see to get around?" "you'll be able to see to get around," said little bug bear, "but you won't be able to see bogie man." "but i must--i have a message for him. oh! good mr. bug bear, oh! kind mr. bug bear, don't do that." "tell him what it is, photographer, and stop his noise," said big bug bear, giving billy a shake, "and listen quietly, billy bounce, or i'll give you a beating." "i'm going to take a picture," said the photographer bug bear. "my picture?" asked billy relieved. "your picture--your picture," growled the photographer, "do you think i have nothing better to do than take ugly fat boys' pictures--huh!" "then whose?" "big bug bear's, of course." billy looked around the room for a camera, but could see nothing but bare walls. not even a photograph was to be seen, much less the large glass cases of brides and grooms and military men and little boys and girls with sand buckets and shovels in their hands. "have you a camera?" asked he. "you're the camera; what else did you think?" grunted the photographer. "_i_ am," exclaimed billy in surprise. "i said you, yes. now stand up, will you--there," and the photographer stood him up in front of him, holding in his hand a great big round black cap, such as photographers put over the lens of a camera. "sit down, big bug bear, in that chair in front of billy bounce, please. so--that's it, head a little higher, look at the camera--that's it," and the photographer threw a black cloth over billy's head and turned it here and there, just as if he were focusing a camera. "but what is it for?" asked billy. little bug bear spoke up. indeed, he seemed to be the kindest one of all of them, perhaps because he was the youngest. "were going to photograph big bug bear on your eyes so hereafter you'll never be able to see anything without a bug bear in it. and as bug bears keep people from succeeding in everything they attempt, you will never succeed in finding bogie man. there now you have it, and i hope you will stay quiet." "oh! but that will be terrible," said billy. "of course it will, but we don't care; be still," growled the photographer. "big bug bear, move your right hand a little more to the left, please--that's better--now look unpleasant--good." at this big bug bear opened his mouth very wide and showed his teeth--when plump, one of his teeth, which must have been very loose, fell out of his mouth and squashed on the floor. "why," exclaimed billy, "his teeth are dough." then turning to the photographer he looked in his mouth, "and yours"--then looking at the others, "and yours--and yours--all of you." then reaching out suddenly he caught hold of the photographer's paw--"and your claws are rubber--hurrah!! hurrah!! i don't fear you now." the bug bears were all so startled that they did not make a move and before they knew it billy had pulled out his air-pump and was beating them all about the head--all but little bug bear, who scuttled out of the door at the first move billy made. "oh! oh! oh! ouch! ouch! ouch!" cried the bug bears, running about and trying to get to the door, "let us go--let us go." and in a minute billy was all alone. "so that's all bug bears amount to," he said; "they will never frighten me again." and walking leisurely out of the door he jumped up and away from derby town and the bug bears forever. chapter xii. o'fudge the next time billy alighted he examined his suit with great care, for fear his adventures with the bug bears had strained the patch over the puncture, but to his great delight he found that it held as tightly as ever. as it happened, he had stopped on a dusty highway just outside the gates of a city. we will call it a city because billy later learned that its inhabitants did so, but to billy's gaze it seemed but a collection of the poorest huts. [illustration: _the herald._] and as he stood punching and pulling and examining his suit a party of horsemen and horsewomen rode up. a few feet in advance of the rest of the party rode a tattered and torn individual on a lame horse. in his hand he carried a battered old fish horn on which he occasionally blew a feeble blast; this he followed by calling in a voice loud enough to make up for the wheeziness of his horn, "out of the way, out of the way o--the king rides." "what if he does?" said billy to himself. "i do too when i can catch behind a street car." "out of the way," cried the man, pulling up his horse, "out of the way, boy." "i'm not in the way, there's plenty of room for you to pass, and i don't want to climb down into the ditch," said billy. "but the king passes--out of the way." "well, i'll be in that town by the time he comes along." "he is here, varlet." "where?" "that noble looking gentleman in rich raiment--true, a trifle faded--but rich--he that rides alone." "do you mean the one on the blind mare?" "true, the mare is blind, but that is her misfortune not her fault--she comes of fine stock. yes, that is our great and noble comic paper irish king o'fudge." "a comic paper irish king," said billy. "is he irish?" "no," said the horn man, "not really irish, he's the kind of irish they have in comic papers." [illustration: _o'fudge, the comic paper irish king._] billy was bewildered--he looked from the king to his company, from the company to the horn man and then back again to the king. such a faded, worn, torn, uncut, unshaven and unkempt crowd he had never seen outside of a company of beggars. and such nags as they bestrode. the lame, the halt, and the blind were all represented among their horses, while donkeys and mules in all states of decrepitude carried others. "so that is the king?" said billy. "ay! the king and his retinue of noble ladies and gentlemen--out of the way." here the king spoke, "phwat detains our noble silf herald?" "and so this crazy quilt is the herald, is it?" said billy to himself and true enough when he examined the man's tattered clothes more closely he saw that he wore a much dilapidated herald's tabard. "a base born fat boy, your serene highness, who refuses to out of the way, though i have outed him several times." "i can't, your honor--" began billy. "treason," cried a voice, "he called his highness your honor." "that's lèse majesty," whispered the herald to billy. "oh! is that his name?"--then turning to the king he bowed low and said, "i beg your pardon, your lazy majesty." "treason!" cried the company of men, spurring their horses into a rapid walk. "he called his majesty lazy." "i thought that was his name," said billy. "mr. herald here told me it was." "i didn't," cried the herald in consternation. "silence," said the king, riding up. "i will hear this case, and bye, if it is true that you hov miscalled me, it's to de lowest dongin wid yez!" "indeed your serene, contented, happy, highness, majesty o'fudge," said billy, giving him all the titles he could remember and a few extra by way of good measure. "i meant no disrespect." "hold," interrupted the king; "before we go further we must call out the gyard to gyard this bye--general swash buckler, do your dooty, no matter how pleasant it may be." "ay! ay! also i salute your majesty," said a fierce looking old man, saluting and riding a few paces to the rear. then saluting the air, he gravely said: "colonel swash buckler--you have heard the orders, execute them." then turning his horse around, he saluted the spot where he had just been sitting. "very good, general, i will do so at once." again turning his horse, he saluted the air, saying, "captain swash buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them." again he turned his horse and saluted the spot where he had just been sitting, saying, "very good, colonel, i will do so at once." this time he looked down at the ground and said, "lieutenant swash buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them." then climbing down to the ground he saluted the saddle, "very good, captain, i will do so at once." he quickly turned on his heel and called, "sergeant swash buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them," and saluting he said respectfully, "very good, lieutenant, i will do so at once." then in a hoarse commanding voice he called, "private swash buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them." this time he saluted cringingly. "very good, sergeant, i will do so at once," and marched solemnly to billy's side, halted and saluted, "it is done." "how's that for quick work, me bye, and what do ye think of me ar-rmy?" said king o'fudge proudly. "oh! is that your army--your _entire_ army?" asked billy, who had watched the proceedings with surprise and amusement. "it is," said the king. "sometimes it's me sitting ar-my, but now it's me standing ar-m-y. there has never yet been mutiny or insubordination--it stands as wan man by its king. it can move rapidly and without much noise, and above all things it is most economical to maintain." "i'm sure it's very fine, sir--i mean your majesty," said billy. "and now, bye, why did ye call me, the irish king o'fudge, a lazy majesty?" "i meant nothing wrong, sir, but when i said, your honor, mr. herald here whispered to me that's lèse majesty." "so that's the way the wind blows--herald, explain." the herald bent one knee, "your highness, i but explained to the fat boy that he had committed lèse majesty, which means that he had insulted you--it's latin." "it's latin, is it?" cried the king. "latin, you say? how dare you talk latin before me when brogue is the court language? i fine you a month's pay." "but, your majesty's pardon, i have received no pay for two years." "sure," said the king, "and your salary is $ . a month." "yes, sire," said the herald, smiling, because he thought the king was going to give him all his back pay. "yes, sire, forgive me for reminding you." "you are forgiven," said the king, "and now, gyard, search him and take from his pockets $ . ." "but your majesty," began the herald. "enough, i can't remit the fine, and if you have the money you must pay it." in a jiffy private swash buckler had fished $ . in nickels and dimes from the herald's pockets and handed it to the king. "and now me vartuous subjects, give three cheers for your noble and generous king, and we will enter the city." "hurrah! hurrah!" cried the people--even the herald gave three feeble toots on his horn. "good-bye," said billy, hoping that by this gentle hint they would understand that he did not desire their company any further. indeed he felt uneasy about the few coppers in his own pockets in the presence of such a free handed king. "not so fast, me young friend," said the king; "you must come with us." "truly, your majesty, i haven't the time," said billy. "i didn't ask you for the time," said the king, "so whether you have it or haven't it you'll have to take it--forward!" and billy found himself in the grasp of private swash buckler, and being led in the direction of the city. they hadn't far to go, and in spite of their naturally slow progress with such sorry steeds, billy soon found himself within the gates. and oh! what a place. dirty, miry streets, pigs every place, tumbledown, leaky roofed houses and ragged people. and the palace--well, billy would never in the world have known it for a palace if the king hadn't told him it was. it was simply a larger, dirtier, more tumbledown house than any of the others, with more and fatter pigs in the front yard. "bring in the prisoner, gyard," said the king, dismounting and picking his way up the tottering steps. "prisoner," cried billy, "what have i done to be made a prisoner?" "i don't know yet," said the king, "but i will find something. we haven't had a prisoner for years, and now that i've got one i'm not going to let him go again for such a simple reason as his having done nothing wrong--am i right, ladies and gentlemen?" "always right--never left," cried the retinue, who were now entering the palace. "i thought you would agree with me," said the king, "but sometimes i'm left--it's a poor ruler that doesn't work both ways--come in." billy was hustled into the palace, which he found hung with torn and faded tapestry. the floor had not been swept or scrubbed for years, and there did not seem to be a solid four legged chair in the room with the exception perhaps of the throne, which was built entirely of irish potatoes. "and now," said the king, putting his crown rakishly on one side of his head, "now i'm prepared to open court. first, has any one here any petitions--in writing?" when he said this an old man hobbled up, and kneeling with many crackings of joints before the king, laid a paper at his feet. "what is it?" asked the king. "a request, sire, that my daughter----" "refused," said o'fudge. "who's next, please--leave the papers." "but, sire----" "i positively must refuse, but i thank you for the petition; me crown is a bit too large for comfort," and folding the paper into a strip he placed it in his crown, which he put on with much satisfaction. "so that's over with--bring the bye before me." "he is here, sire," said private swash buckler, leading billy before the throne. "kneel, boy." "what's your name?" said the king. "billy bounce," said billy. and what a shout and roar went up from the company--even the king jumped to his feet in his excitement and threw his crown into the air. "billy bounce!" they cried, "billy bounce--we've caught billy bounce!" "what a good day's work!" cried the king--"$ . from the herald and $ . from bumbus for catching billy bounce." "but, your majesty--" began billy. "don't talk to me," interrupted the king, "unless you can offer $ . to be set free." "alas! i haven't that much," said billy. "too bad--too bad," said o'fudge; "and now i suppose i'll have to off with your head." "oh! sir--please, please don't!" cried billy, struggling with swash buckler. "don't lose your head," said the king, "because i want to have it chopped off." "but, sir--" began billy. "sire," and a gray-bearded man, wearing a tall pointed cap and a long, flowing gown covered with the signs of the zodiac, walked to the king's side and whispered in his ear. "are ye sure?" whispered o'fudge. "certain, your majesty," answered the man. "the court astrologer," announced the king to the people, "tells me that billy bounce's star predicts that anyone who kills him will himself be hanged." "then i'll be hanged if i do!" cried the executioner, throwing down his meat cleaver. [illustration: _the astrologer._] "what are we to do with him then?" said the king, scratching his head. "i don't want to keep him here, or he will eat me out of house and home--i know what boys are." "let me go, your majesty!" cried billy hopefully. "and lose $ . --twice the national debt--oh! no. has anyone else any suggestions to make?" "let me cast his horoscope again, sire--maybe the stars will show us a way out," said the astrologer. "good," said o'fudge, "begin at once." "by daylight?" "why, of course, you can see better by day--do not argue but away." and off the astrologer trotted, shaking his head in perplexity. billy felt barker stirring uneasily in his pocket, and in order to shift his position took him out into his arms. as soon as o'fudge saw him he said: "ho! a dog--this changes things. astrologer, include the dog star in your calculations." billy had been idly scraping his foot on the dirty floor, so that he really had made a little hole there, when, greatly to his surprise, barker wriggled out of his arms and barked into the hole. up sprang the singing tree and at once began to sing in a soft, dreamy voice a sleep song. a strange and sudden silence fell over the room. o'fudge sank back onto his throne and closed his eyes, while a contented smile came over his face. swash buckler's hand dropped from billy's arm, his head nodded and he fell in a heap. so it was throughout the palace--slumber overpowered all who heard the song excepting billy and barker. in a moment all that billy heard was the singing tree and a loud chorus of snores. you can imagine that it didn't take him long to run out of the door with barker in his arms and jump away from the land of o'fudge, the comic paper irish king. chapter xiii. billy plays a trick on boreas. "br-r-r-r, it's cold," said billy the next morning when he arose: "if my suit were not full of hot air i believe i should freeze. i wish, though, i had some warm things to put on; it looks like snow." and he swung his arms and blew on his blue fingers and rubbed the tip of his nose to be sure it was still there. "why, hello, what's this?" for while he was exercising, the singing tree had sung softly: "by lo, baby bunting, papa's gone a-hunting, to get a little rabbit skin to wrap his baby bunting in," and now stood holding a complete suit of nice heavy, warm rabbit skins. either baby bunting was a very large baby, or when papa had skinned the rabbit (which must have been a giant one) he found it much too large for baby bunting. however that may be, billy jumped into it in a jiffy and found that it fitted him to perfection. and what a fine time barker had with it! he crouched low, and then with yelps of delight jumped up and down on billy's legs. he was playing that he had sighted a great big rabbit, and billy joined in by running around the tree and back and forth with barker in hot pursuit. finally billy stowed him away warmly inside and doggy went sound asleep, very, very much contented. then with a leap billy was off. billy had not been away from the earth very long when a snowflake lit on his nose--then another and another, until they came down so thick and fast that he could not see a foot ahead of him, which wasn't strange, for his feet were under him. "my, my," he said, laughing, "mother goose must be picking a whole flock of geese to-day--gracious, i'm glad dear old singing tree gave me this nice suit; it's as warm as toast and keeps out the snow better than a whole store full of umbrellas and mackintoshes." and the snow fell thicker and faster, while it grew colder and colder, but billy didn't mind that for he was nice and warm. then the snow suddenly stopped, and looking beneath him billy saw a great white field of snow with here and there mountains of ice and occasional patches of blue, cold-looking water. and there by the water's edge sat a white bear: indeed he seemed almost to be sitting in the water, so close to the edge was he, his face turned toward the land. as soon as billy struck the ground, which he did within a few feet of the bear, he recognized him as an old, old friend, fuzzy white. "why, hello fuzzy white, what are you doing here?" "fishing," said fuzzy, "don't talk, please, i've just had a nibble." "where's your line," asked billy in surprise, for he couldn't see any line or pole, and certainly fuzzy was not faced the right way for fishing so far as billy could see. "sh! h--," said fuzzy, raising a paw in warning, "there i've got him," and turning around quickly he showed a can of sardines clinging tightly to his button of a tail. "is that your line?" asked billy. "certainly, line, bait, and pole--it gets cold sometimes hanging one's tail in the water for an hour or two, but one must eat." "but that's a can of sardines," said billy. "yes, and i hope they are the best french, with pure olive oil. this isn't a good season for the fine sardine cans to bite; though the big maine mustard variety are very easy to catch--ah-h-h, these are the good ones." and fuzzy with great eagerness opened the can with his claw and gulped down the contents. "do you really catch canned sardines?" "of course--i can't bear raw fish, i suppose that's from living in civilization so long. i find that a little lemon juice on my tail makes the canned varieties bite splendidly." "how wonderful," murmured billy. "well, well, billy bounce, what have you been doing with yourself since i saw you last? how you've grown." "i've been pretty well, i thank you--what are you doing now?" "nothing much," said fuzzy sadly. "i came up here to go in the ice business, but i found that old boreas was the ice man and had a corner on the market, so i'm just looking about for something to turn up. what are you doing?" "i'm carrying a message to bogie man," said billy. "you're nearly there then," said fuzzy, pointing out over the ice fields, "it's just beyond aurora borealis and back again ten thousand miles." "back again ten thousand miles--isn't that pretty far?" "not very, they are imaginary miles, much shorter than the regular kind." "who is that whistling?" interrupted billy. "that's old boreas--he must have just made a good deal in ice and is whistling over it--by the way, he's a good friend to bogie man and nickel plate." "then he's no friend of mine." "i shouldn't fear him," said fuzzy, "he's a fearful blow-hard, and though he's certainly cold blooded, he makes more noise than anything else." "talking about me, were you?" said boreas, arriving in a swirl of snow and clicking the ice tongs he held in his hand. "we--we merely mentioned your name," said billy, trying to turn his back on him. but that was useless, for old boreas faced him whichever way he turned. "you can't escape me that way," and he threw a handful of snow in billy's face. "stop it!" cried billy, "it's no joke to treat a fellow this way." "of course it is," said boreas, jumping over billy's head. "is what?" asked billy. "snow joke, of course--i feel frisky this morning and i must have my joke." "you're always frisky," said fuzzy white sulkily. "who wouldn't be--i just exchanged my old bicycle for an icicle this morning and it works like a charm," said boreas. "i suppose you travel rather fast," said billy, hoping to keep his mind off of nickel plate and bogie man. [illustration: _"talking about me, were you?" said boreas, arriving in a swirl of._--page .] "fast," answered boreas, puffing his chest way out, "fast--why, while you are jumping three miles, i will have run a hundred." "that's blowing," murmured fuzzy white. "then you recognize me?" said billy. "of course i do--south wind blew in here one day and warned me that you were coming." "let's change the subject," said fuzzy white nervously. "yes," said billy eagerly, "you, you whistle very well, mr. boreas." "i pride myself on my whistling," said boreas, lifting up a block of ice with his tongs and throwing it over his shoulder. "but to return to yourself, billy bounce--you will have to go back home." "i'd like to oblige you," said billy sturdily, "but i can't." "oh! you can't, can't you--we'll see about that," and boreas ran actively around billy, cuffing him in the face and over the ears--it seemed a thousand places all at once, whistling dismally all the time. "look out for his teeth," shouted fuzzy white. "if you once get in the teeth of the wind, he will bite your nose and ears and fingers and toes off." "now, do you think better of it?" said boreas, coming to a sudden stop. "that was only half trying--next time i'll catch you in my ice tongs and carry you home." "you can't frighten me," said billy, patting fuzzy white on the head. he didn't know quite why, but the feel of something that was friendly seemed to keep his courage up. "go it, old boy," whispered fuzzy encouragingly. "wow-ow-ow! oh-h-h-h-h!" howled boreas, "you say i can't frighten you--why, i've frightened little boys and girls all my life. every winter i howl and whistle my way around the world, and the way i make the branches creak and the windows rattle through the long, dark nights is a caution. why, even bogie man says that next to him i'm the greatest frightener in the world." "i don't care, i'm not afraid of you," said billy. which, i fear, was not quite the exact truth, for he didn't feel very easy when he looked at boreas' long, sparkling white teeth and his tousled gray head and beard. "nor am i, even though you have got a corner on the ice market," said fuzzy white, "for really you know you are an ice man." this made boreas furious, he stormed and howled and spluttered and beat billy wildly on the chest, caught hold of him even and spun him round and round on the ice, but he couldn't knock him down nor lift him off his feet so long as billy did not try to jump. "you'll get out of breath if you keep that up much longer," said billy, plucking up courage when he saw that boreas could not really do him much damage. but it was a fatal speech, for with one loud yell boreas leaped at billy's face and tried to fasten his tongs in his nose. it was a trying moment for billy, he felt his nose turn pale with fright, and when boreas' tongs touched it, it grew absolutely numb. indeed, he had given his poor nose up for lost, and it would surely have been if fuzzy white had not scooped up a paw full of snow and clapped it on billy's nose just as boreas began to clamp the tongs. "ou! wow-ow-o-ow!" screamed boreas, jumping back, "ow! ow! i can't bite through snow," and he turned somersault after somersault on the ice in his fury. "thank you, fuzzy," cried billy, as he felt the blood return to his nose, "you have saved me, old fellow." "that's nothing, i know his tricks better than you do." billy anxiously felt his nose with his fingers and found it all there and quite right. "but i'll get you yet, billy bounce," howled boreas, "and when i do i'll nip you hard." "you're not so very fast or dangerous after all," said billy laughing. "look out for him," whispered fuzzy, "he has other tricks." and sure enough, along raced boreas, this time close to the ground, and before billy knew it, he had caught him by the legs and was sliding him along the ice, right toward the cold water. but billy knew a trick worth two of that, and suddenly threw himself backwards. "plump--" he had fallen back, right on top of boreas. "ugh!" cried boreas and lay still for a moment with the breath quite knocked out of him. "good for billy," cried fuzzy white. "you got him that time." "so it seems," said billy laughing. "wait until i get you up in the air," grunted boreas, "i'll show you something then." "you have been trying pretty hard all morning," answered billy, "but you haven't shown me much yet." my, my, my, how furious this made boreas. he raged and tore around and above billy and fuzzy white, but they lay close to the ground, and though he gave them some pretty hard kicks, he could not budge them. "if he keeps this up, he will tire himself out," laughed fuzzy to billy. "he's getting to be a pretty old man for such violent exercise, and the first thing he knows his wind will give out." "i'd like to stand up though," said billy, "i'm afraid i'll catch cold." "catch cold--" cried boreas, stopping suddenly, "catch cold--why you couldn't catch anything." "that's all you know about it," said billy. "i'll tell you what i'll do," panted boreas, "i'll give you a start of a hundred ice floes and beat you down to that iceberg two miles away." "done," cried billy, winking at fuzzy--"but i'll be generous--i'll give you the start." "what shall we bet," asked boreas. "i don't bet," said billy. "well, we will do this--if i catch you, you must give up searching for bogie man--if i don't, you may continue your journey." and boreas chuckled to himself, for he intended putting squall, one of his children, in billy's way so that he couldn't jump any distance at all. "come here, squall," he whispered softly. "screech--i am here," cried squall, gaily settling down at his father's side. "when that boy jumps, blow him in just the opposite direction than that in which i am going." "yes, sir, the opposite direction you say?" answered squall. "yes!" then calling to billy he said, "are you ready?" now billy had heard just enough to know that boreas was planning some trickery, so he decided quickly how to fool him. "all ready," answered billy, whispering "good-bye" to fuzzy white. "then go," cried boreas and was off. "go," cried billy, turning his back on boreas and jumping in exactly the _opposite_ direction and away toward aurora borealis. now squall did not know any more than his father had told him, so of course he got right back of billy and pushed him faster than ever away from his father, making him fairly hum through the air. you can imagine how surprised boreas was when he reached the iceberg and turning around to see how far he had beaten billy, found that he was sailing way, way off away from him, with squall pushing him along with all his might and main. he was furious. "come back, come back," he called to squall, and the boy turned back obediently to meet his father. "he has not escaped me yet," cried boreas, jumping after billy--and it is very doubtful indeed if he would have escaped had squall not been so anxious to do just what his father said, for back he came with his head down and his eyes shut, going as fast as he could. boreas, too, had closed his eyes when he jumped after billy, and so neither knew that the other was near until they went bump right into each other. "ouch! ugh!" they cried and fell to the ground, the breath knocked completely out of them. and so billy sailed far, far away toward aurora borealis and safe from boreas and squall. chapter xiv. king calcium and sterry optican. what a dazzling sight was the town of aurora borealis when it broke on billy's vision! sparkling blue, red, and golden houses cut out of solid icebergs. even the poorest huts shone with all the colors of the rainbow in the wavering, flickering light that rose and fell on them. when billy alighted in the streets he stood amazed at the beauty surrounding him, but when he saw the magnificent ice palace that stood directly in front of him, he had eyes for nothing else. higher than the highest office building he had ever seen in the city, wider than the longest block he had ever walked, and more brilliant in its changing colors than any kaleidoscope he had ever looked into. "phew!" he said, with a great sigh of enjoyment, "that _is_ a beauty, sure enough." "not bad, is it?" said a voice at his elbow. looking around billy saw a funny little chap with sharp, bright eyes--a short, pinched blue little nose, and long, tapering fingers. in one hand he carried an artist's maulstick and in the other a palette and brushes. "it is beautiful," said billy, "can you tell me what place it is?" "the ice palace--i built it." "are you a contractor?" asked billy. "no, i'm an expander." "a what?" "an expander--frost expands--i'm jack frost: architect, artist and ice bridge builder." "you must enjoy the work." "yes, i'm fond of water colors--i suppose you've seen some of my pictures window-framed and hung in your own house?" "yes, sir--you must be a lightning sketch artist." "never have been out when it lightened--i'm afraid of thunder." "i didn't mean that--" began billy. "you must learn to say what you mean," interrupted jack frost, "because if you should get the habit of not meaning what you say, no one could say what you meant whether you meant it or not--that's clear, isn't it?" "not exactly," said billy. "perhaps you'll understand this better. seeing is believing, but believing is not seeing, unless you believe you see; and, so seeing, believe what you see. how's that?" "i suppose it's very true, indeed," answered billy politely, but he was certainly at sea as to what jack frost was talking about. "not a bit of it! what's the good of telling the truth when an untruth is more interesting?" "i don't agree with you," said billy. "no sun ever does; i suppose you _are_ somebody's son?" "yes, sir--i'm my mother's son." at this jack frost wept little icicles, saying: "poor me--poor me--i'm an orphan." "an orphan?" said billy. "that is too bad; how old are you?" "only a million years. mother died when i was born, and i sometimes feel so young and helpless without a mother to spank me." billy thought this rather silly, but did not like to say so, for jack frost seemed to take it all very seriously. "now that's over," said jack suddenly. looking up in billy's face and smiling, "i just wanted to show you that i was a man of sentiment. suppose we go into the ice palace and have a little light refreshment." "that would be nice," said billy. "a little ice-cream, for instance." "that sounds cold." "it tastes colder," said jack frost, putting his arm through billy's. "come along, and if that's not enough you can have a glass of ice-water." "ugh!" how the thought of the cold things made billy shiver, and how like a cake of ice jack frost's arm was! "i--i thank you very much," he faltered, "but if you'd just as soon----" "sooner," said jack frost; "what is it?" "i don't think i care for anything to eat." "oh! but you must have something to cool you up; you'll take your death of warmness if you go into the heat without a cup of cold coffee to keep out the warm." and billy allowed himself to be dragged along for fear that if he refused further, jack frost would think of something colder to give him. "are you allowed to enter the palace whenever you wish?" asked billy. "i don't have to wish--i just go in." "who lives here?" "the calcium king and his daughter sterry optican: she's an actress." "an actress?" exclaimed billy. "yes--she's a cold, proud beauty--but the king rules us with a light hand--here we are," and jack frost led billy through the ice palace gates. "who are those men?" asked billy pointing to two tall, soldierly looking men who stood at either side of the gate with huge ice-picks in their hands. "the ice guard," whispered jack frost, "all picked men; let me introduce you to calcium king." billy looked about him, but could see no one but an old man seated at the window behind a great reflector and two boiler-like things, such as they have at the theatre to throw a bright light on the stage. the machine was buzzing and sizzing away, and the old man was turning the light this way and that out over the streets and houses. and whichever way it turned a thousand flames of golden light shone in the heavens and made the houses sparkle and sparkle again with brilliant colors. billy knew then where the northern lights came from. "where's the king?" whispered billy. "that's he," answered jack, pointing to the old man. "the lord high master of the lime lights is sick in bed with a warm in his head, and the king is attending to things himself;" then aloud, "hello, king!" "good midnight," answered the king, without turning around. "i want you to meet my friend," said jack frost. "where do you want me to meet him?" asked the king; "don't make it very far away, because i can't trust the machine to anyone else." [illustration: _"me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the light."_--page .] "he is here," said jack. "oh! well then, i'll meet him half way," and jumping quickly up, the king ran to billy, shook his hand, murmured, "how de do," and trotted back to his machine. "glad to know you, king," said billy. "you don't know me," replied the king. "i don't even know myself; so how could a fat boy, who has just shaken my hand, expect to know me?" "i don't know," said billy. "that's better. where is my daughter, jack?" "i don't know, your calciumness," answered jack frost. but even as he spoke a tall, handsome young woman with raven-black hair and large blue eyes came slowly into the room. "me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the light." and immediately the king turned a small calcium light directly on her. bowing and kissing her hand, she turned to billy. "whither goest thou, fair sir, and whence comest thou? answer, i prithee." "ma'am?" was all billy could say in his amazement. "she means where are you going and where did you come from," whispered jack in billy's ear. "why couldn't she say so, then?" grumbled billy. "goest thou henceford or thenceford, fair sir? fain would i know--or wilt thou tarry awhile and let me pour into thine ear--" billy put his hands over his ears and stepped back in a hurry. "please don't pour anything into my ears." "she means she wants to talk to you," whispered jack again; "that's stage talk." "ay, such is indeed the truth," said sterry optican, moving forward, followed closely by the light. this time billy stood his ground and she took his hand in hers, saying sadly-- "would thou wert not so fat, fair sir, else could i learn, ay! gladly learn to love you--but hold, villain--unhand me!" and she flung billy's hand away from her and burst into sobs. "jack frost," said billy wildly, "for goodness sake pinch me--i don't know whether i'm asleep or crazy." "nay, nay--curfew _shall_ not ring to-night," cried sterry optican, seizing billy by his hair and dragging him up and down the room. while she did this the king and jack frost clapped their hands loudly and cried, "bravo, bravo!" "you do it better every day," cried jack. "my, my, won't people stare when you really do go on the stage!" "and to think that she's my daughter," said the king proudly. "oh! was that just play?" asked billy, relieved, but very sore about the scalp, for sterry had not been gentle. "yes, wasn't it grand?" said she sitting down. "i'd have been on the stage long ago--i mean really on the stage, you know, and acting for real stage money, but there's so much jealousy in the profession that i can't seem to get a hearing." "that's too bad," said billy sympathetically. "what do theatre managers say to your acting?" "just what you said--that it's too bad; but my friends all say i'm just grand, and by all means should go on the stage. father, you may turn off the light now; i'm through." "thank goodness," murmured billy to himself. "what did you say?" whispered jack frost. "i was talking to myself," said billy. "that's a waste of time; though i suppose you're more interested in your conversation than any one else." "that's sarcastic." "no, it's true," said jack. "don't you think i'm clever?" "you're what i would call a sharp frost," said billy laughing. "stop talking for a minute," interrupted king calcium. "i'm not talking," said sterry optican; "i'm thinking, and it's much harder to think than to talk." "it is for some people," said jack. "now as for me----" "be silent," cried the king; "nickel plate is trying to signal me." "nickel plate!" exclaimed billy rising to his feet. "yes," said the king, "do you know him?" "i've met him," said billy; "but excuse me, good day----" "night, you mean; it won't be day for six months," interrupted jack frost. "good night, then; i really must be going." "not until you've carved your initials on the north pole," said sterry optican. "it's my autograph album, you know, and i have the names and initials of many famous people on it. why, even my own is there." "thank you very much," said billy, nervously, "but i really can't spare the time." "that's all you know about the north pole," said jack. "you could stay there a year and not be spending a minute." "what do you mean?" asked billy in surprise. "just what i say, this time--how are days, hours, minutes and seconds measured? answer me that." "by the length of time it takes a given point to completely revolve about the earth's axis," answered billy, not quite sure that this was the exact definition, but thinking it was near enough. "right," said jack; "and so, if you are on the axis, the north pole, that is, you can't revolve around it, can you?" "no," said billy. "and if you can't revolve around it you can't measure time, can you?" "no." "and if you can't measure time, then there is no time: so you see you can't waste time or spend time when you're on the north pole. i hope you understand that." "yes sir," answered billy dubiously. "then come along and cut your initials in the pole." "please do," pleaded sterry. and billy was just about to yield--indeed, he had taken two steps toward the door when king calcium suddenly exclaimed: "hold! jack, lock the doors; billy bounce, you are discovered." "what! billy bounce in our mongst?" cried jack, blowing on the doors and freezing them tight shut. "not the real billy," cried sterry, walking over to a sofa and preparing to faint. "yes," cried the king, "it is indeed he--nickel plate has just wigwagged me that he is in this room." "i am undone!" screamed sterry, throwing herself carefully onto the sofa. "seize him, jack!" cried the king. "seize him yourself," said jack, dancing away out of billy's reach; "remember i'm a nervous child." "i will," cried the king, tottering over to billy and laying his hand on his collar. "jack, call the ice guard." "ice guard, ahoy!" shouted jack. "lemme go," cried billy, "or i'll----" "no you won't," panted the king, clinging desperately to billy. "you'll see," said billy, and began to drag the king over to the window where the calcium was burning brightly. "help me, help me, jack!" called the king, trying to sit down on the floor. but billy kept him from doing so, and finally reached the window. quick as a flash he turned the entire northern light right into the room, and with a sizzle, splash--puff the ice doors went up in steam. the next moment he found the lever that controlled the lamp, and zip the light was out. my, my, my but how dark it got--darker than a thousand nights--blacker than a million hats. the king let go of billy's collar and commenced wildly to grope for the machine. "now to escape," cried billy. "barker, lead me out by scent," and quickly he pulled barker out of his pocket, tied a string to his collar and turned him loose. barker gave one little yelp, and then darted for the doorway with billy hot after him. out they ran into the open air, and picking barker up in his arms, up jumped billy away from aurora borealis. chapter xv. billy meets glucose. to say that billy was glad to see real sunshine and feel its warmth again, hardly expresses his joy, when, on emerging from aurora borealis, he floated into a warmer climate. and the next time his feet touched earth it did not take him long to take off his rabbit skin and give it back to the singing tree. and then how he and barker rolled on the soft green grass, breathed in the sweet, flower-scented air, and basked in the sunlight! "you saved my life, old boy," said billy, patting barker's head. and barker wagged his little tail and cocked his head on one side, as much as to say: "i'm glad, and i would do it again if i had the opportunity, billy bounce." "and now, off we go," said billy, thrusting barker into his pocket and jumping up into the air. [illustration: _barker in trouble._] now it is hard to say just exactly how it happened--whether barker slipped out of billy's pocket, or just climbed out, thinking that he too could float in the air, i do not know. at any rate the first thing billy knew there was a sharp jerk on the string that barker was tied to--a frightened yelp, and there was doggie being dragged up and up through the air by his collar. of course it did not take billy a minute to haul barker up to him and to catch him in his arms; but even then it was none too soon, for in another moment there would have been no more barker. "poor old fellow," cried billy, snuggling him up in his arms. "your dog days were nearly ended that time, weren't they?" and he was still soothing and patting barker when his feet crashed through a jungle of blades and stalks, and he found himself in an enormous corn field. he looked about him, and saw dimly ahead through the corn a factory building; at least he took it for this, for he could hear the distant hum of machinery and the churn-churn-churn of an engine. "now i wonder where i am," said billy, beginning to walk toward the factory. "stop--or you are a dead man--or boy," said a voice at his side. [illustration: _snawksnaw, the boy detecative._] turning, billy found himself looking down the barrel of a cap pistol. but not being particularly interested in what he saw there, he looked further and discovered the face of its owner. on his head was a very, very large wig of raveled rope, and attached to his chin by large elastic bands that ran over his ears was a heavily matted blue beard. following the beard to its end, billy's eyes traveled on down to a large tin star. "who are you?" asked billy in surprise. "snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative," cried the boy, pulling off beard and wig with one sweep of his hand, and folding his arms dramatically. "what do you detect?" asked billy. "hist!" said the boy, again putting on the wig and beard, and pointing the cap pistol at him. "hist! i detect crime, but move not or i will be-low your be-rains out." "is that a disguise?" asked billy, pointing to the boy detective's hair and beard. "it is, and a perfect one. who would ever guess that snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative, and this bearded ruffian were one and the same person? this is my favorite transform." "but why did you get a blue beard?" "ah-ha! that is the completest part of the disguise; for though they might guess that i would raise a black beard or a yellow one or a red one, _who_ would think that i could raise a blue one?" then scowling terribly, he hissed, "are you one of them?" "one of whom?" asked billy. "one of the party of desperate men that inhabit yon fair but foul factory?" "of course not; i've just arrived." "ah-h, then perhaps you, too, are a detecative on the same trail; but i warn you snawksnaw will have no partner to share the glory of this capture. i have run them to earth, and mean to take them single handed." "what have they done?" asked billy. "i know not. that i will find out when i have bound and gagged them." "then you don't know them?" "yes," and snawksnaw seeing no immediate use for his pistol carefully put it in his hip pocket after examining the cap to see that it was still in place. "nothing like being sure of one's firearms," he said, "for should me trusty miss fire at a critical moment i should be in a dangerous position." "who are they?" "nickel plate, the polished villain." "what!" cried billy, "nickel plate?" "yes, and bumbus." "bumbus?" "yes, and drone." "drone? i don't know him." "he's a cowardly ruffian, the tool of nickel plate." "a sort of nickel plated tool," said billy, laughing. "i suppose so," said snawksnaw seriously, missing the joke. "and worst of all their fair but false accomplice glucose, possessing a beautiful face to look upon, but with the crafty, crawling, venomous wiles of the serpent." "i've heard of glucose," said billy; "she is the one they tried to put in honey girl's place at the bee palace." "ah-ha!" cried snawksnaw, "a case of abduction--but i will foil them--it shall be my greatest shadow. i must perfect my disguise in such a serious case," and taking off his coat he turned it inside out and struggled into it. "now i defy them." "you're not going to the factory, are you?" asked billy. "i don't know--if i just knew what old sneuth, the detective, would do under the circumstances i could decide." "huh! i shouldn't wait for that," said a voice. looking up, billy and snawksnaw saw bumbus leaning against a cornstalk, wearing a very self-satisfied but wicked grin. "so it's my old friend billy bounce," continued he. "bumbus!" was all billy could say. "i be," said bumbus; "who's your friend?" "snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative," shouted that youth, drawing his cap pistol. "but i shall sell my life dearly," and he snapped the cap at bumbus. how it did make bumbus jump, but instead of falling dead in his tracks as they do in dime novels, he seized billy's collar with one hand and reached for the boy detective's collar with the other. "missed!" cried snawksnaw, throwing his pistol to the ground; "ten thousand furies. i don't know what old sneuth would do now, but i know what i'm going to do," and he ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. "good riddance," said bumbus, laughing, "which proves beyond a doubt that the wicked flourish like a green bay rum tree." "how is that?" asked billy. "meaning that no matter how close the shave, green bay rum can face it." "i suppose you are going to take me prisoner to the factory," said billy, wishing to have the worst over as soon as possible. "my, my, but you are a good guesser," then calling loudly, "nickel plate, drone--here is billy bounce." "ha-ha-ha-ha!" laughed nickel plate, striding through the corn. "so billy bounce is once more in our power, eh! this time he shall not escape us." "yaw-haw," yawned a sleepy-looking bee, coming slowly out of the factory. "come, wake up, drone!" cried bumbus. "aw-ri," yawned drone. here billy thought he saw an opportunity to run, and giving a sharp twist he broke from bumbus and started away to get room to jump. but alas for his hopes! the cornstalks suddenly intertwined their tops all about and over him and he found himself again a prisoner. "how impolite!" laughed bumbus, "how very impolite of you to think of going away without saying good-by!" "to the factory with him," said nickel plate in a loud voice. and billy was pulled and hauled through the cornfield up to the factory which bore the sign "nickel plate, bumbus and glucose." inside past the grinding machinery and the great vats of boiling syrup and finally thrust into a little room marked "office." "honey girl!" he cried, catching sight of a young girl seated at the typewriter. "billy bounce!" she cried, starting to her feet with a peculiar smile; but the sound of her voice and something about her eyes told him that it was not honey girl at all, but glucose, that stood before him. "i, i beg your pardon," he stammered; "i thought you were the princess." "well?" she said questioningly. "but i see now i was mistaken; you are glucose." "beware, billy bounce, how you anger a woman--hereafter address me as honey girl, or take the consequences." so saying, glucose closed down her desk and hurriedly left the room. "i suppose i've made another enemy--but i don't care; she's proved now that she is not honey girl, and this knowledge may prove useful some day." billy was seated in a chair near the door when suddenly through the keyhole and above the hum of machinery came the sound of voices. "we must get the note from him and prevent his seeing bogie man," said the voice of bumbus. "yes," said nickel plate, "but i fear that so long as he lives he will be in our way." "throw him in the grinder," suggested drone. "or boil him in a syrup vat," added bumbus. "too sweet a death," said nickel plate. "of one thing i am certain--he must die." then their voices died away, showing that they had moved off. "i suppose it's all up with me," said billy, looking about him for some means of escape. "oh! how i wish i had mr. gas here--i'll try umberufen: perhaps he can carry the message." you can imagine that it did not take him long to touch wood, and "zip!" umberufen stood before him. "well, so you need me again, do you?" "yes, sir," said billy. "the last time you treated me very badly." "i'm very sorry." "humph! that won't pay for a ruined suit of clothes--everything i had on warped dreadfully. but i suppose i shall have to forgive you--what is it?" "i want you to carry a message to mr. gas." "out of my district," said umberufen curtly. "but you often go to mr. gas," said billy; "this is a matter of life and death." "i can't go to him unless he touches wood." "but you are supposed to do what i ask you to." "anything here yes, but i'm not an errand boy," answered umberufen indifferently. "have you no heart?" exclaimed billy. "certainly, but mr. gas didn't hire that--he just arranged for my brains and ability." "then whatever he pays you he's got a bad bargain," said billy angrily. "you may go." "there you go, showing your temper again--goodness, i wouldn't have your disposition for anything--good-by," and umberufen disappeared. "i wish i could sneeze--perhaps gehsundheit would take the message--i'll try," but do what he would billy could not make himself sneeze. he tickled his nose with a straw, snuffed up dust, did everything he could think of but not a sneeze would come. at last he gave up in despair. "i'll imitate a sneeze," cried he--"ca-choo!" it did not sound very much like a sneeze, but sure enough a shadowy form of gehsundheit appeared before him. "gehsundheit," came from the figure but it sounded far, far away like an echo. "at last," cried billy. "oh! gehsundheit, i need your help." "so, iss it?" he whispered. "yes, i want you to carry a message to mr. gas." "alas! it cannot be did." "why not?" "because i am not here." "not here--where are you?" "at home in my castle." "but i can see you." "no, it iss but my shadow." "why didn't you come yourself? i sneezed." "it vas not a real sneeze, so the real gehsundheit could not come--good-by," and slowly the form faded away. "well! what do you think of that?" exclaimed billy as the last of gehsundheit vanished into thin air. "i never think," said bumbus, suddenly opening the door. "why waste time in thought when thoughtlessness makes more trouble than villainy?" "i don't see the point," said billy. "it has no point, it's a blunt statement--but come along." "where?" "ask me no questions and i'll tell you no truths," said bumbus. "come along." "i don't want to," said billy, holding back. "before you get much older you'll do many things you don't want to--that is, if you live to get older." by this time drone had come in and was leaning against billy, fast asleep. "wake up, drone, and help," said bumbus. "oh!" said drone, "i just dreamed that i was asleep." "that's one dream that came true," said bumbus; "now out with him." bumbus pulled and drone pushed, and although the latter went to sleep three or four times before they got out of the room, billy finally found himself in the main factory where nickel plate was directing some workmen in taking the lid off of a vat. "ah, ha!" said nickel plate when he saw billy. "now, boy, i will give you a last chance--promise that you will give up all search for bogie man and return the note to me and we will free you, otherwise----" "it will be a case of boil instead of freeze," interrupted bumbus. "then boil!" cried billy. "i must do my duty while i live." "in with him!" cried nickel plate. "in with him!" cried bumbus. "yah-haw!" yawned drone. and with that they lifted billy up and were about to drop him into the vat, when through the open skylight and down in their midst dropped mr. gas. he was seated in his big arm-chair which was carried along by hundreds of toy balloons of all colors. "hold!" he cried. but instead of holding they were all so surprised that they let go of billy and he fell to the floor, just missing the vat by a few inches. luckily he lit on his feet, and, of course, as this was just the same as a jump, he bounded up again and out through the skylight, followed by mr. gas. chapter xvi. in spookville when they had gotten well away from the factory, billy recovered his wits sufficiently to thank mr. gas warmly for his assistance. "you are welcome, billy bounce--it was lots of fun for me and i needed an outing anyway." "but how did you know about my need?" said billy. "i tried to send umberufen and gehsundheit, but could get neither of them to go." "the wireless telephoneless telephone brought me your wish. i came very near answering, but you didn't hold the wireless wire, and i thought it would be more exciting to save you at the last minute, the way they always do in books." "i'm afraid--" began billy. "don't do it," interrupted mr. gas. "what?" "be afraid." "but i meant to say i was afraid--" he began again. "you did say it--you didn't just mean to say it," said mr. gas severely. "well, what i meant was that i didn't think gehsundheit and umberufen have been of much use to me." "that's better--never use the word afraid, because there's nothing in the world to be afraid of if you do your best." "i'll remember that, sir," answered billy. "about gehsundheit and umberufen--they are not very useful, it's true, but the two old fellows have been out of work for so long that i hire them out of charity." "i suppose they mean well." "oh! yes; but be careful of well meaners unless they are good doers--that's what counts." "yes, sir," said billy. "and now good-by--keep your teeth clean and don't eat any dirt." "of course not, i never do eat dirt." "i know you don't, but it is my rule to give advice that can be easily followed--that's the way i keep my friends. good-by." "good-by, and thank you," called billy, and in less than half a jiffy mr. gas and his toy balloons were only a speck on the horizon. when billy again reached the earth it was night. he had just taken barker out of his pocket and was going to dig a hole for the singing tree, when he saw that he was in a great shadowy city. "that's strange," he said, looking about him. "i was sure that i was in the middle of a green meadow when i first came down and here i am in a city." and yet when he looked again he found that he could see clear through the houses. this made him just a wee bit nervous. "ah! here comes some one with a lantern; i'll ask him about it." and sure enough there came bobbing and dancing up the street a ball of light. "he's an awfully unsteady walker, whoever he is," said billy. for one minute the light would be way up in the air and the next minute almost touching the ground--then it would be on one side of the walk and again on the other. on it came until it was within a few inches of his nose and then he saw that _no one_ was carrying it. gracious! what a start it gave him--for a moment only and then he was off after it in hot pursuit. but the faster billy walked the faster the light went--when he ran it ran--and suddenly "puff!" it disappeared. "huh! i don't like that a little bit," and he stopped and looked around him. the moon cast a pale and sickly light, and the gaunt trees waved and creaked sadly in the moaning breeze, throwing long, claw-like shadows on the ground. then a sad-voiced bird piped out from the forest, "whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will-o'-the-wisp." "that's what it was, of course," said billy, sturdily sticking his fists into his pockets--"a will-o'-the-wisp." and back he trudged whistling as hard as he could whistle. because whistling _does_ keep a fellow's courage up on a lonely walk, doesn't it? it certainly cheered billy a great deal, so that when he got back to the place he had lately left he was laughing at his fears. and then the moon went under a cloud. "goodness! it's dark," he said half aloud. "isn't it though?" whispered a voice right behind him. if billy had been a wax figure on a pivot he could not have turned around quicker than he did--and then when he _had_ turned he was sorry that he had, for looking into his face was a great, white flabby head on a long, wavery body. it did not seem to have any eyes, and yet billy felt them looking into his. it did not seem to have any mouth, and yet billy had heard it speak. "wha-wha-what d-did you say?" he asked in a quavering voice; and he distinctly felt each separate hair on his head grow stiff as a poker and his cap rise a couple of inches from his crown. "i said it was dark. what's the matter, do you stammer?" "n-not usually," said billy, trying to set his teeth and stop the tune they were chattering. "then i wish you'd stop--it's very annoying," said the figure, chuckling to himself. by a great effort billy got his lower jaw under control and said: "who are you? your manner is familiar, but i don't recognize your face." "oh! i'm a ghost." "a ghost!" exclaimed billy, stepping back. "yes--i've met you lots of times," said the ghost. "who were you when--when you were alive? perhaps if you'd mention the name," and billy tried to recollect some of his former friends. "i _am_ alive, though goodness knows if times keep up the way they're going now i can't tell how soon i'll starve to death." "starve to death?" "yes; times have changed in the last four hundred years. why, i remember years ago we ghosts were busy on haunting jobs night after night, but now we have to scratch pretty hard for a living." "but where have you met me?" asked billy. "on your way to bed when the nurse had been telling you silly tales--come, we're old friends, let's shake hands." "can--can you shake hands?" said billy, putting his own behind him. "certainly. of course i can't shake your hand, but i can shake my own," and with that the ghost held two long white arms in front of him, joined the ends (one really couldn't call them hands) and waved them up and down. much relieved, billy clasped his own two hands and feebly shook them--and my, how cold and clammy they felt! "well, good-by, i must be going," said billy nervously. "don't go yet--let's talk over old times. and by the way, you don't happen to know a quiet family, keeping two servants, no children preferred, who wants to hire a respectable ghost. thoroughly tame--will eat out of the hand--terms reasonable and references exchanged. guaranteed to give satisfaction or money returned. if desired can take the shape of an old ancestor. guarding buried treasure extra." and the ghost rattled this off as if he had learned it by heart. [illustration: "_come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening._"--page .] "no," said billy, "i really do not--in fact, i'm sure i don't." "now that's too bad--but perhaps you would hire me--i'll make it cheap for old acquaintance' sake," said the ghost wistfully. "no," said billy quickly, "i don't think i care to be haunted." "if the price is all that stands in the way i'll work for my keep just to keep in practice." "no," said billy, "i'm--," he was going to say "afraid," but remembered mr. gas's advice and said, "i'm sure i don't need you." "well, i suppose if you won't, you won't--but anyway come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening. i'd like you to meet the wife and children--my wife is a little high-spirited--the ghost of a lighthouse-keeper's daughter, but she will thaw out after a while, and i'm sure she can fix up a nice little supper for us." "i really have not time," said billy, backing off. "not if i tell you that we have some cold fear pie and a roast of imagination, a neat little salad of blood-curdling screams topped off with groan pudding--come, that ought to tempt you--and i'll get the children to do the shadow dance for you after supper." "you are very kind, i'm sure," said billy, "but i have a message i must deliver to bogie man." "you don't mean to tell me that you're billy bounce?" exclaimed the ghost. "yes!" said billy. "what have i done? oh! me! that's what comes of getting old and near-sighted--i took you for little tommy jones." "no, i'm billy bounce." "then you shan't come to my house, but you _will_ come to the haunted house." then he called aloud in a weird voice: "spooks, spirits, ghosts, wraiths, banshees, and all, come quick--here is billy bounce in spookville." with a rattle of chains, screams, groans, and a thousand odd and terrible sounds, the inhabitants of the village swooped down on them. for a few moments billy was absolutely frozen stiff with fear, and when he looked around him at the horrible shapes and faces that surrounded him he was worse frightened than ever. some of them breathed fire and steam while their eyes glowed like red-hot coals. others had old, crafty and wicked faces with huge snaggle teeth. some looked like fierce and bloodthirsty pirates--all sorts and conditions of ghosts were there, and all seemingly intent on tearing billy limb from limb. "see him tremble!" called one old pirate. "ah! this reminds me of old times on the spanish main--make him walk the plank!" "scream into his ear until he is deaf!" cried a banshee. "put a ball and chain on him and throw him in a cell!" suggested the ghost of a convict. "he's the boy who discovered shamville--he will tell on all of us if we let him live!" said a crafty-looking old merchant. "make him eat his own head!" cried a headless horseman. "get away!" cried billy; "you are a host of delusions! i don't believe in ghosts anyway, and i'm not afraid of you," for he had just remembered what mr. gas said about being afraid. he took a step forward, and in doing so walked through five or six ghosts who were crowding him closely. "swish!" and every mother's ghost of them had disappeared and he was standing in the meadow alone. the moon came from behind its cloud and distinctly winked at billy. and what a relief it was to be sure! "there," he said to himself; "mr. gas was right--so long as a fellow is afraid in the dark he will see all kinds of things, ghosts and everything else; but if he just grits his teeth and makes up his mind _not_ to be afraid, there is no more in the dark to hurt you than in the sunlight." and with that he planted the singing tree, curled up beneath it, and in a minute was sound asleep. chapter xvii. in the volcano of vociferous. when billy awoke the next morning and saw the dear old sun grinning down at him, and looked about at the green meadow dotted with black-eyed susans and dandelions, he could hardly realize that his adventures of the night before were real. but there on the edge of the open space stood the trees that had creaked so dismally; while even then among its trunks lingered some of the mist that had made the walls of spookville. "what did you think of it, dogibus?" he said to barker. but that merry little chap looked so happy and contented, and his eyes seemed so clear of unpleasant memories, that billy decided that dogs don't see ghosts--perhaps because they are not afraid in the dark, and anyway haven't any nurses to tell them things that are not true. "half past eight--time we were off!" said billy, looking at his waterbury. and so off they flew into space. "i doubt if i can float over that high mountain," he said presently. "what a queer-looking thing it is, too." and no wonder it was queer looking, for it was the volcano of vociferous with just a little thin white vapor rising from its crater. "oh, me! oh, my! i'm falling right into the hole," he cried, "i wonder if i will fetch up in china?" and sure enough, when he got right over the crater he began to fall, fall, fall, through the opening and way down towards the centre of the earth. and just about the time he had given up hopes of ever landing in any place, he hit plump on a floor of lava. right in front of him was a door bearing this sign: "the coal man. best anthracite and soft coal. new gold and silver bought and sold. nickel-plating a specialty. for admission to works apply at office. walk in." turning the handle billy walked in. "well," said a smutty-faced old man who was bustling about the office and whom billy rightly took for the coal man. "how do you do?" said billy. "tired, very tired," answered the coal man. "worked to death. i have a rush order for an eruption of vociferous and it's keeping my alchemist and myself busy day and night, while the coal stokers and furnace tenders threaten to strike for lower wages." [illustration: _the coal man._] "that's too bad," said billy sympathetically. "not a bit of it. i like the work. i suppose you want to go through the works." "if it's not too much trouble." "i don't know whether you will find it too much trouble or not; you will have to decide that for yourself." "i mean for you." "it can't be for me, because i'm not going. what's your name?" "billy bounce." "billy bounce? glad to know you, billy. i've heard a great deal of you from a customer of min." "a customer! who is he?" "nickel plate the polished villain. he comes down here every once in a while to be plated." "nickel plate!" cried billy in alarm. "why, he is my enemy." "i know it," said the coal man; "but don't mind that; he's his own best friend." "but if that's the case, aren't you going to harm me?" "certainly not. you can't do me any harm by telling the truth about my work. you will find that your only enemies are the people who know you will expose them as imitations." "i hadn't thought of that before," said billy, greatly relieved. "of course you hadn't. they wouldn't either if they hadn't felt so guilty themselves. well, here's your card of admission, and don't pick up any hot lava." "thank you," said billy. "i won't." the coal man opened the door leading into the works. such a wonderful sight as met billy's gaze! a deep red glow was over everything, growing lighter and duller every few moments as the stokers would open a furnace door, shovel in some coal, and slam the door to again. and the stokers--they were indeed sights. black as coal and as shiny as patent-leather boots, which, with their fiery red hair, made them look like chimney-pots on fire. here and there among them wandered an old, old man with a very wise face and long white hair. in one hand he carried a pair of scales and with the other he was putting into them first some of this and then some of that, which he weighed carefully and deposited in what looked like a great big cartridge shell. "how do you do, sir?" said billy. "gun cotton and vaseline in parts of two to----oh! how do _you_ do?" "sir," said billy, "i understood the last part of your sentence, but i don't think i heard the first part very well." "a little sulphur--now i wonder if i'd better put any safety-matches in it this time--what do you think, boy?" and he looked at billy as if he were a thousand miles off. "i don't know, sir." "then why do you presume to offer advice? so you don't think safety-matches a safe thing to put in it? neither do i." "but i said i didn't know," said billy. "true, you did; i had forgotten. if that's the case, i'd better use sulphur-matches." "are you the alchemist?" "let's see, am i? i've really forgotten. ace of spades," calling to the blackest stoker of them all, "come here." "yes, sir," said ace, running up to them. "well, what do you want?" asked the old man, looking at ace in surprise. "you called me, sir," said ace. "did i--what for? do you know?" "no, sir," said ace. "excuse me," said billy, "but i think it was to ask him if you were the alchemist." "that can't have been it, because i _am_ the alchemist. no doubt about that, is there, ace?" "no, sir," said ace. "then don't interrupt me again with your foolish questions, ace; you know it bothers me when i'm making up a sample eruption." ace bowed gravely, as if he were used to such things, and ran back to his work. [illustration: _the alchemist._] "that's the trouble with these men," said the alchemist; "they are all so absent-minded. if i were not here to think for them, i don't know what would become of the business." "excuse me----" began billy. "certainly," interrupted the alchemist, absent-mindedly putting some gun-cotton in his ears. "i was going to say--did you say you were making a sample eruption?" "did you speak to me? i seem to have heard you speak." "yes, sir." "i can't hear a word you say--i'm afraid i'm growing deaf. now what did i do with that gun-cotton i had a moment ago?" and the alchemist looked for it in every place but in his ears. but billy, by making motions, showed him where it was, and he pulled it out in great surprise. "you shouldn't do that," said he severely, "it's a very dangerous thing." "but i didn't," said billy; "you did it yourself." "tut-tut--why should i put gun-cotton in my own ears? i never listen to evil reports." billy was just about to make further denial when the coal man put his head through the door and beckoned to him. "nickel plate is coming down in the elevator," said he, as soon as billy reached his side. "nickel plate--down here!" exclaimed billy. "yes, he is coming for a re-plating, and bumbus and drone are with him." "they mustn't see me." "that's the reason i called you. i suppose you don't mind hiding." "not at all." "then come along," and he led billy into the works and to a dark, heavily barred vault marked "gold." throwing open the door, he invited billy to enter. "this is where we keep the gold supply of the earth," he said. "pick out a soft nugget to sit on, and make yourself at home--you had better lock yourself in." "thank you," said billy, locking the door and pocketing the key. and as it was dark as pitch in the vault and light in the works, no one on the outside could well see through the bars of the door. "this is fine, but i don't think i shall sit down, i want to see what they do." he hadn't finished saying this when in walked nickel plate, bumbus, and drone, followed by the coal man. "yes," nickel plate was saying, as they entered, "i'm getting terribly rusty, and i need a new plating." "in other words, he wants you to make a shining example of him," said bumbus. "excuse me," said drone; "you haven't a cot here, have you? i've lost so much sleep lately i----" "lost sleep," exclaimed nickel plate in disgust. "yes, i have not had more than twenty hours sleep in the last twenty-four; they've kept me busy looking for billy bounce." at mention of his name billy drew back into the shadow. "and honey girl, too," said bumbus, "i can't guess what has become of her." "ay! we are foiled at every turn, but wait, wait, our day is coming--let me but get rid of these rust spots and restore my polish, and they cannot escape us." now when billy heard about honey girl and her safety, it made him very happy, but the thought that nickel plate was going to get back his polish worried him considerably. "i do hope something will happen to prevent the plating," he said to himself. bumbus by this time was running about in his usual inquisitive way, peering into everything and handling all the tools and chemicals. suddenly, "boom, sizzle, bang!" went the alchemist's unfinished cartridge, on which bumbus at that moment was standing to reach a shelf, and up, up, up, went bumbus through the hot-air shaft that supplied the furnaces. luckily for everybody there were very few things in the cartridge--not enough to make even a first-class sample eruption. even bumbus wasn't hurt, only very, very much surprised and blown too many miles away from vociferous to get back that day. "how very careless," said the alchemist, pettishly; "now i've got to do the work all over again. if i'd known he wanted to be blown up, i could have arranged it very easily, and at half the trouble and expense." "why did bumbus leave so suddenly?" asked drone, waking up. "let bumbus look out for himself," said nickel plate, ignoring the question; "what i want now is my plating." "ace of spades," called the coal man, "bring out the nickel-plating furnace." ace of spades and his helper rolled a great portable furnace, glowing red with heat, into the middle of the floor. "step in, please," said the coal man, and nickel plate opened the door and walked in. "please hurry up with that two dollars in nickels, alchemist," said the coal man. "i don't seem to find any nickels," called back the alchemist; "i suppose a two-dollar bill won't do?" "you know it won't," said nickel plate. "you got up the formula yourself--and please hurry, it's getting warm in here." "that's true," said the alchemist, hurrying up with a handful of nickels; "ace of spades had forgotten what we wanted them for." "i didn't say anything about it," said ace, sulkily. "that's just the trouble with you absent-minded people," said the alchemist, pouring the nickels into the top of the furnace, "if you had spoken about it i should have known you were wrong, and saved all this time." quickly the nickels melted and down poured the plating onto nickel plate. and in a jiffy out he stepped as bright and shiny as a new coin. "ha-ha!" he cried, patting himself on the chest, "i feel brighter already--_now_ i'll find billy bounce and honey girl without a bit of trouble." and much to billy's dismay he walked straight over to the vault in which he was hid. but instead of looking in as billy expected, he leaned against the grating and putting his hands in his pockets looked about him complacently. the coal man too was worried by this move, and did all he could to distract his attention and call him away from the door. "come here, quick!" cried he. "can't do it--i'm nickel plate, not quick-silver--besides i want to cool off." "how can i rust his new suit," said billy to himself. "if i can do that without his knowing it he will be as badly off as ever." and looking down at the floor to think, he saw a large piece of sulphur that had been blown in when the explosion occurred. "sulphur tarnishes the silverware at home," he thought, "i wonder if it would affect nickel plating." he softly picked it up and made a mark on nickel plate's back. sure enough it made a long black streak. "good," he exclaimed under his breath. "if i put a lot of black marks on his back it will not only destroy his power, but everyone who sees them will know that he is a villain. i know that black marks were what teachers used to give us to show that our deportment wasn't good," and in a jiffy billy had covered nickel plate's back with black marks. poor nickel plate had no idea what was going on behind his back; indeed he was so surprised at the coal man's antics that he couldn't think of anything else. for, of course, the coal man saw what billy was doing, and was laughing and slapping his knees and jumping up and down with delight. "well, come on drone," said nickel plate, starting away. "we must be going--drone--drone--wake up, i say." and drone got up from a bed of lava rubbing his eyes and yawning. but he was so sleepy he paid no attention to nickel plate's back and out they both walked without ever discovering the trick billy had played. as soon as they had gone billy came out of his hiding-place. "thank you, mr. coal man, mr. alchemist, and ace of spades--i shan't ever forget your kindness to me." "run along and don't interrupt," said the alchemist, hard at work with his scales. "you're welcome--good-by." ace of spades bobbed his red head and smiled to show that billy was welcome to all he had done. "come along," said the coal man, "i'll show you the way out." and he led billy to the floor beneath the crater where he warmly shook hands with him. "good-by--take good care of yourself, boy--you've made me laugh more to-day than i have for years." "good-by," cried billy, giving a great big jump, and up he popped out of the mouth of vociferous and away over the green fields and forests. chapter xviii. the elusive bridge. "i must be very near the end of my journey," said billy the morning after he ruined nickel plate's new coat. "i have been on the air road a long time, and certainly i have had some queer adventures. what shall i say to bogie man when i _do_ see him, i wonder----" but here he lit on the ground and looked around him. about half a block behind him he saw a most peculiar looking bridge--a bridge that seemed to be floating in the air and yet came very near to touching the ground at each end. but what interested him was the dark and dismal looking city on the other side of the bridge. "why, that's strange. the bridge and the city are behind me, so i must have passed over them; yet i don't remember seeing them at all." billy had been looking at them over his shoulder and now turned to get a better view. but when he turned he saw nothing before him but a great wide stretch of land--the bridge and the city had disappeared. "i am sure i saw a bridge and city over there," and he casually turned his head to look around him again--there at his back were the objects he sought. "i must have turned all the way round without noticing it, but this time i'm going to keep an eye on them when i turn." so billy turned very, very slowly, keeping a close watch on the bridge and city. but as he turned, they turned; it made no difference how fast or how slow the motion. "barker, old dog," he said finally in despair, "i'm afraid my head is turned. i want you to try it." so he took barker out of his pocket and placed him on the ground. then he turned his own and barker's heads over their shoulders, and pointing to the city said, "watch, it, good dog, watch it." barker undoubtedly understood, and as his neck wasn't comfortable with his head turned, he turned his body around. he stopped and looked around him in the greatest dog surprise, caught sight of the city over his shoulder, and turned again. then he began to get excited, and before billy could stop him was spinning round and round like a kitten after its tail. and he spun and spun and he spun, billy all the time trying to make head or tail of him, until he got so dizzy that he fell over on his side. "good old dog," cried billy, picking him up and putting him in his pocket. "you have proved that i'm not the only one who can't get the bridge in front of him. but i have made up my mind to get to that city if it takes the rest of my life, for it looks to me like never was where bogie man lives." and with that he commenced to walk backwards. and he walked and walked and walked, but not an inch nearer to the bridge did he get. "i wonder if i could jump backwards. i'll try it." and back he jumped. up he went and back he flew. it wasn't a very comfortable feeling, either, not to know just where he was going, and he certainly hoped he wouldn't bump into any buildings when he did reach the city. but he closed his eyes and waited, until at last his feet touched earth. then he opened his eyes and looked around him, expecting to find himself in the middle of the city. not a bit of it. there he was in the same spot he had started from, with the bridge and the city just over his shoulder. "well, i'll be gum swizzled!" he exclaimed in surprise. "i shouldn't," said an important looking man in a black uniform and a little round cap bearing the words "toll gate keeper." "you might be gummed, you know, like an envelope, but it wouldn't do to be swizzled." "what is swizzled?" asked billy. "how should i know? but you should, for you said you would be." "it was just an expression with me." "oh! you meant to say you would be expressed. what are the express rates on boys?" "no, i didn't mean that; what i meant to say is that what i meant to say was--oh! pshaw! i don't know what i'm talking about." [illustration: _the toll gate keeper._] "of course you don't, and as i don't, either, let's change the subject." and the toll gate keeper nodded his head very gravely. "then can you tell me what city that is back there?" asked billy, pointing over his shoulder. "yes," said the toll man, and then he began to hum a tune as though that closed the discussion. "well?" said billy. "quite well, thank you--how do you feel?" "but i didn't mean that--i was waiting for an answer to my question." "i've answered all the questions you've asked; of course, if you haven't asked it yet you can't expect me to answer it." "but i asked you if you could tell me what city that is back there." "and i said 'yes, i could.' i'm sure that's answering your question." and the toll man looked grieved. "then why don't you tell me?" "because you haven't asked me to--why should i waste my valuable time answering questions that were never asked?" "then what city is it?" asked billy, angrily. "never was." "thank you--and now i will ask you: do i have to cross that bridge to get there?" "you've already crossed it," said the toll gate keeper, "and i'm here to collect your toll." "i beg your pardon, i haven't crossed it," said billy. "oh, but you have, otherwise you wouldn't be here." "but how could i have crossed it? i haven't gotten to it yet." "of course not; if you had gotten to it you wouldn't have crossed it," and the toll man looked at billy as much as to say, "well, you _are_ a dull boy if you can't understand that." "that's ridiculous," said billy. "what sort of a bridge is it, anyway?" "the bridge that people cross before they come to it." "but there is no such bridge." "of course there's not, that's the reason people cross it before they get to it." "then how am i to get to the city?" "i don't know and i don't care. i didn't send you there--all i know is that the only way to never was is over the bridge that people cross before they get to it." "then all i can see is that i shall have to cross the bridge," said billy. "i've told you that you've already crossed it." "stop a minute," cried billy, putting his fingers in his ears, "my head is in a whirl." "how can i stop a minute? i'd have to catch it first, and don't you know that time flies?" "i mean wait for a minute." "which minute do you want me to wait for?" "oh, stop it, stop it!--don't stop anything--i mean don't wait for anything--if you say another word i'll go crazy." and poor bewildered billy sat down on the ground and buried his face in his hands. "there, i feel better," said he, finally, raising his head. "who are you, please?" "i'm the toll gate keeper, also the man that people borrow trouble from." "oh!" said billy. "no, i don't owe, i lend, and it's a poor business, for no one ever pays me back. more people owe me a grudge than a thousand legger can count on its fingers and toes." "aren't you afraid to have so many people owing you a grudge?" asked billy. "how can i help it? they borrow trouble from me without asking for it, and anyway it worries them more than it does me." "this is certainly a topsy-turvy place," said billy. "what is that sign on the bridge--is it in greek?" "oh, no! that's just because you see the back of it; it's only for people who are crossing, and says, 'walk your horses.'" "do horses ever cross the bridge?" "none have so far--it's just put there in case they should. you know if wishes were horses beggars would ride, and, of course, if you put a beggar on horseback he will ride you down. that would make it very unpleasant for any one who was walking if there should ever happen to be any." "do many people cross the bridge?" asked billy. "i don't know, i'm sure--as they all cross it before they get to it, by the time they get there they have already crossed it, so it's impossible to make them pass through the turnstiles." "i wish i knew how to get to never was," said billy sadly. "i can't help you; because what has once been done can't be undone, unless time turns back, and as what you have done was done before you did it, i don't see how you can ever do it." "no, i'm very sure you can't help me," said billy. "but of one thing i am certain, i must get to bogie man's house." "you will do well if you do, for no one has ever seen bogie man," said the toll gate keeper. "no one has ever seen him?" "no--lots of people have thought they saw him but he keeps himself just out of sight." "i wonder what time it is?" said billy, pulling out his waterbury. "i do hate to waste so much time--why it can't be eleven o'clock yet." "just half past ten," said the toll man, pulling out his sun dial. "i wonder what's happened to my watch? i must turn it back," and pressing the spring billy turned the hands back to ten thirty. just at that moment he happened to catch sight of the bridge over his shoulder, and, strange to say, it was almost in touching distance. "hurrah!" he cried, delightedly, "here's the bridge right here--now i'm sure to catch it," and he ran backwards as hard as he could, but without getting an inch nearer to it. "how did it get here, anyway?" he asked. "i don't know," said the bridge keeper. "i noticed it coming up while you were setting your watch back." "that's it--that's it," cried billy. "don't you know, you said that what has once been done can't be undone unless time turns back." "what has that got to do with it?" "can't you see when i turned time back, up came the bridge? now i am going to turn it back more and get to the other side." "don't risk it, don't risk it," cried the toll gate keeper, in great excitement. "if you should happen to be lost between two hours, you might never catch up with time again." but billy did not heed the warning, for he knew he could turn his watch ahead again and make up for any lost time that way. so back went the hands of the watch and, "spang!" billy stood in the dark and dismal streets of never was. far, far off in front of him (this time) was the bridge, and on the other side, waving his arms in despair, stood the toll gate keeper. chapter xix. in the dark, never was. "at last!" cried billy, when he found himself in never was. "but i'll never again cross a bridge before i come to it--it makes too much unnecessary trouble." and off he started down the street to find bogie man's house. there did not seem to be a soul on the streets. nearly every house that billy passed was shut up tight and had a board tacked on the front door reading, "gone away for life--back next eternity." each one was signed by the owner--and such a lot of names as he read! one was "hobgoblin," another "gnome," another "bloody bones," another was "wicked giant," another "cruel stepmother," another "boog a boo," and so on and so on. in fact, almost every one of the things or people that frighten little boys and girls, and even some that used to frighten grown-ups, had left this earth for parts unknown. "it looks to me," said billy, "as though bogie man was about the only one of the whole lot who is left, and he seems to be pretty hard to find." "finders losers, keepers weepers," said a voice, and billy was surprised to see a little peg-legged man standing in front of him. "why!" said billy, "where did you come from? you are the first person i've seen here, and i began to think i was the only one in town." "don't ever get that idea," said the little man. "what idea?" "that you are the only one any place; there are always a few more better than you are wherever you are." "i suppose so," said billy. "i don't suppose it, i know it, because seeing is not believing." "what is the meaning of that?" "that's a secret; some day perhaps i'll not tell you." "i never heard such nonsense," said billy, "and i've heard a great deal the last few days." "many a fib is told in jest, you know, but it's not my fault if i do talk nonsense--that is the misfortune of having a wooden leg," and the little man made a dab at billy's toes with his stump. "what has a wooden leg got to do with it?" "nothing at all. i merely mentioned that it is a misfortune to have a wooden leg." "i should think it would be hard to bear," said billy, sympathetically. "no, because it's already bare. but i shouldn't complain, i make my living on it." "your living--how can that be?" "i guess you don't know who i am?" and the little man struck an attitude. "no, i don't." "i am mumbledy peg, bogie man's official potato masher." "ugh," said billy, in disgust, "how dirty!" "dirty--why?" "to mash potatoes with your wooden leg." "but i don't; i use a potato masher like anybody else." "then i don't see why you said you made your living with your wooden leg." "i didn't. i said i made my living on it, and i do, because i always stand up to mash potatoes." and mumbledy peg spun around on his wooden leg in great delight. "you're making fun of me," said billy. "no, you were already funny; i didn't make you so." [illustration: _mumbledy peg._] "if you can't talk seriously and without insulting me----" began billy. "tut, tut," interrupted mumbledy peg. "if i have insulted you, you are very sorry, and i sincerely accept your humble apology." "but i didn't apologize--i had nothing to apologize for." "then that shows how generous i am--i accept it anyway," and mumbledy peg held out his hand: "come, we will shake hands and be good enemies again." and he looked so merry and good-natured about it that billy couldn't resist a smile. "didn't you say that you were bogie man's official potato masher?" asked billy. "i not only said so, but i am." "then you know where he lives." "yes, but i've never been there." "you've never been there?" exclaimed billy. "no, of course not. why should i go there?" "to mash potatoes, of course." "ah! but i said i was the _official_ potato masher--officials never go near the office, we let the servants do that," said mumbledy peg. "and you get a high salary for doing nothing?" "yes, of course; the higher the salary the less the work, is our motto, or to be exact, the fewer the higher." "perhaps you can direct me to bogie man's house." "who knows?" said mumbledy peg. "i'm willing to try it if you are." "i am," said billy. "i am very anxious to deliver a note to him." "i'll take it for a dime. i love to read notes." "but you can't read this." "if it's typewritten i can, and, anyway, if i miss any words, you can tell them to me." "but i don't want you to read it, it's not for you," said billy. "i'm not particular about that. i could probably find something in it that would amuse me." and mumbledy peg held out his hand for the note, just as if everything had been settled. "no, i'd rather take it myself," said billy. "oh! all right, if you're going to be selfish with your old note, go ahead. but i warn you that you have lost your chance forever to have the note read, for if you should come to me now and beg me on bended knee to read that note, i should refuse. that's the kind of a man i am." "don't worry," said billy, "i shan't ask you." "that won't help you any, for i won't read it even if you don't ask me." and in high dudgeon mumbledy peg started to stump off down the street. "hold on," called billy, running after him. "i have nothing to hold on to, but don't worry, i won't fall." "can't you give a sensible answer to anything?" "no. i used to do that and people said i had so much common sense i couldn't be very bright. when i began talking nonsense they said it was so foolish it must be very clever, and thus i gained a great reputation for being witty." "well, just for once, won't you try to talk common sense?" said billy. "how can i get to bogie man's house?" "there is just one way and that is to walk. we have no street cars here." "i mean in what direction shall i go?" "it makes no difference to me which way you go--see here, billy bounce, i know you," said mumbledy peg, severely. "you know me?" asked billy, in surprise. "yes, i do, and i'm not going to help you find bogie man's house." "oh! you're not," said billy. "well, suppose i find it anyway." "you can't, no one ever finds bogie man unless he doesn't want to find him." "we will see about that," said billy, angrily, "and when i do find him and deliver the note, i'm going to tell him just what i think of him." "he doesn't care what you think of him. thoughts never hurt any one but their thinkers." "that is too deep for me," said billy. "there it is," said mumbledy peg in disgust, "when i _do_ say something sensible, you don't understand me." "then you won't help me to find bogie man?" "not an inch, and i will say further that if all our leading citizens had not left for mars in search of work, you wouldn't be alive in this town for three minutes." "i'm not trying to harm you," said billy. "we won't discuss the matter further. good night," and mumbledy peg drove himself right into the ground and disappeared, leaving billy alone in the dark street. "i can't get him back unless i pull him out with my teeth, i suppose," said billy, "and i'm not going to try that. now, what am i to do without a guide? it is fearfully dark and lonely, and i seem to be as far from seeing bogie man as ever. i wonder what street this is?" he tried to see the sign on the lamp post. of course the lamp was not lit, for they never are in never was until daylight. but he couldn't possibly make it out, so he fumbled about in his pockets until he found a match. he lighted this, and by its feeble flame read the sign "the road-to-bed." "the road-to-bed," he repeated to himself, "that's a strange name for a street. i wonder if bogie man lives anywhere near. why, of course, he must live in this street, because he is nearly always seen on the road to bed." now billy did not exactly mean that bogie man _was_ seen, because, although many little boys and little girls have _thought_ they saw bogie man, have thought they heard him creeping up behind them to seize their shoulders, or was hid under the bed to catch ankles when they hopped into bed--he wasn't really there at all. the fact of the matter is that he had never in his life left never was until billy took--but there, you will learn later what billy did to him. chapter xx. the window of fear. "i wish i had a candle," said billy, trying to look around him; for it was so very dark he really could not see anything but black shadows and the black shadows of the shadows. indeed, it had suddenly grown darker than ever before, and the wind began to moan as it sometimes does when a storm is brewing. "of course i'm not afraid of bogie man--but i think i'd rather have a candle with me--just--just for companionship. i wonder if the singing tree could help me." so he sat him down in the middle of the street, planted barker's bark and told the tree what he wanted. at once it sang-- "little nancy etticoat in a white petticoat and a red nose, the longer she stands, the shorter she grows." and with a low bow handed him a lighted candle. "that's better," he said; "i seem to feel easier already." and off he trudged, peering up at the houses in search of "in-the-dark," bogie man's castle. of course, he couldn't walk very rapidly, for the candle wavered and flickered, and tried more than once to go out; but he shaded it with his cap and got along very well considering. and at last he stood before a great black shadowy building, dotted with large windows in all conceivable shapes. some looked like cruel sneering mouths, others like the hungry open jaws of ogres; others like large staring eyes. in fact, each window bore a hideous, fear-compelling aspect, and all were as dark as a hole in the ground--all but one, from which a blue and yellow light streamed. and this was the most hideous window of all, for it did not look like anything--just a shapeless, nameless, dreadful yellow splotch on the wall. and over it billy read these words, "the window of fear--look not lest ye see terror." "this must be bogie man's house," said billy. "i--i am sure it is rude to look in at windows, and besides that, ugh! _what_ a hideous window--i'll try the front door." at last he found a wide, low, grinning door, and he had just mustered up the courage to ring the bell, whose handle was the tail of a snake, when the door opened suddenly and out flew a thin, gaunt, pink flannel cat with shoe-button eyes and a long, blue worsted tail. billy tried to seize this opportunity and enter; but slam went the door in his face, and off down the road went the cat. and at the same moment two large flat things, with waving streamer-like arms, lifted themselves up in front of him and tried to knock his candle out of his hand. billy stepped back just in time to save it and stood staring at the quivering forms. "what are those things, i wonder?" he exclaimed. "layovers to catch meddlers," said one of them. "hands off," said the other, and then they lay down again on the door-mat. "then perhaps you can tell me if this is bogie man's house," he said. "it is--now go away," said one. "this door is only to go out by--it never opens to let any one in," said the other. billy thought a minute, and then, hoping he could surprise them into telling him some way of getting in, said, "then how is that cat ever to get in again?" "it never will," said the first layover; "that is scaredy cat, and she will never come back." "what was she running away from?" asked billy. "her tail." "her tail?" "yes--it is a frightful yarn. now, go away; i'm through talking." billy tried to secure an answer to several more questions, but never a word could he get out of them. "i suppose i shall have to look through the window of fear after all," he said, with just the faintest shiver. and throwing back his shoulders, he made for the window. he had to hoist himself up onto the sill to look in, and when he had gotten up, he sat with his back to the window and his eyes closed, until he could catch his breath and muster up his courage to peep in. then he slowly turned his head. it is a good thing he had a tight hold on the broad sill, for the sight that met his gaze, froze his blood and almost knocked him off his balance. there stood bogie man in the middle of the room juggling his own hideous head with one hand and a great ball of burning sulphur with the other. billy saw now what made the blue and yellow light. it was the sulphur, which flashed and sizzled as it went through the air, emitting a million angry sparks and tongues of fire when it struck bogie man's hand. and bogie man's body--ugh!--as tall as a church-steeple, as large around as a house; as full of knots as an old oak-tree, yet as black and eerie and unformlike as a flying shadow. the hair on the head was long and green, his eyes like two sparks floating in a saucer of water, and his mouth like a shark's. he had a nose like a large ripe apple. "and i must vanquish him," said billy in dismay. "i will for honey girl's sake--i'm _not afraid_." as he said this the whole world seemed to take fire with a lurid flash of lightning. "crash"--a peal of thunder split the heavens and rolled and rumbled through the lonely streets of never was. then the rain came down in solid sheets, the wind blew a hurricane, and on the crest of the gale rode a thousand shadowy figures, shrieking and moaning and tumbling over and over as they came. the first touch of the wind blew out the candle, and at the same moment the sulphur ball indoors burst and disappeared. so billy sat there in the dark, his back to the window and in front of him countless thousands of bitter enemies--banshees, wraiths, ghosts, sprites, imps, riding on crimson devil's horses--all the weird and wicked things that claim bogie man as their king. "billy bounce," called the voice of nickel plate. [illustration: _billy shot a blast of hot air from his pump full in bumbus's face._--page .] "here," cried billy, undismayed. "hurrah--hurrah--hurrah--howl--howl--shriek!" cried the enemy. "caught at last. no hope, no hope for billy bounce," said a voice. "is that bumbus?" asked billy. "i be," said bumbus, suddenly jumping onto the sill and trying to push billy off. but "swish!" billy shot a blast of hot air from his pump full in bumbus's face and down he dropped. "come on," cried billy; "you _can't_ frighten me." "your last chance," cried nickel plate. "give up and i will save you." "never!" cried billy. and with that the battle commenced. oh! the countless slaps and cuffs and tweaks he got. my! the hideous din and noise of their cries. ugh! the horrible faces they pushed right into his. but the harder they fought and tried, the less real harm they seemed to be able to do. fear, fear was their only weapon, and as billy's heart grew stout within him, the weaker became their attack. billy leaned heavily against the window and worked the hot-air pump desperately. time and time again the imps, sprites and crimson devil's horses renewed the attack. "on, on!" cried nickel plate from a safe place in the rear. "buzz-z-z, buzz-z-z! pluck his eyes out!" cried bumbus, striking at billy with his three-edged sword. "put him to sleep forever!" cried drone, waking up in the midst of the combat. but billy never said a word. he was holding his breath for the final onslaught, which he felt was now being arranged, so he only gritted his teeth and pumped hot air into and through the frantic enemy. down went bumbus again from a blast in the ear. puff! puff! and away and away sailed an imp never to return again. "rally!" cried nickel plate. for a moment there was a lull, and billy knew the time had come when he must beat or be beaten. "i'm not afraid," he panted to himself, and then with a rush and a wild shriek the enemy hurled itself forward in a solid mass. on they came, yelling terribly, their eyes spitting flashes of light and their mouths and jaws working in horrible grimaces. the foremost imp had just come in striking distance, when billy leaned back more heavily on the window to brace himself and _crash!_ the pane broke and billy was inside. with the crash all sound ceased. all were as surprised as billy. quick as a flash he was up on his feet and prepared to grapple with the hideous bogie man that he knew was in the room with him. "light," he cried, and in a jiffy he had pulled his candle out of his pocket and lighted it. he looked for bogie man. he was gone, and in his place stood a little, old, shrivelled man. "where is bogie man?" cried billy, and then stopped and looked again, for the little man was an exact miniature of the big figure he had seen through the window of fear. "you are here!" he cried. "i see it now. the window was a magnifying glass. at last, at last." the little man made a move for the door. "no, you don't; you've got to take the note," cried billy, forcing it into bogie man's unwilling and trembling hands. "and now," he began, but just as he spoke, in through the broken window poured the enemy, intent on billy's capture. but he was determined to have his talk with bogie man and secure his promise that honey girl was to be left unharmed. seizing bogie man he cast his eyes about him for some means of escape. he saw a door just behind him. with one bound he reached it, threw it open and was off down the corridor headed for the front door, which he saw dimly outlined at the farthest end. behind him shrieked the imps and sprites, filling the house with their wild, weird cries. the foremost imp was clutching at his hair, and had almost caught him when he reached the door, flung it open, jumped through, and crashed it to again just in time to catch the imp fast, half in and half out. "bing!" and billy had taken such a leap up into the air as he had never taken before. chapter xxi. in the queen bee palace. on, on and on went billy, rushing through the air with a speed he had never before experienced: the result of the tremendous leap he had taken in leaving in-the-dark, never was. bogie man squirmed and struggled, scratched and bit and kicked, threatening billy with the most horrible punishment if he did not release him. but billy only held on the tighter and answered never a word. for now he knew what a harmless imitation he really was unless seen through the window of fear. then down, down, down he dropped right into the middle of a great, sweet field of red clover from which arose the continuous hum-m-m-m-m buzz-z-z of thousands of honey-gathering bees. and before him stood a beehive, the entrance of which he could see was guarded by yellow jacket bee sentries. "the uniform of honey girl's guard," he cried excitedly. "it must be the palace of the queen bee. now at last i shall see honey girl." saying this he stepped toward the hive. "what are you going to do?" asked bogie man in alarm. "enter that hive and see honey girl," said billy. "oh! but don't you see the guard--they will sting us. oh! don't, don't, don't." "and you are the bogie man everyone is afraid of," said billy in disgust. "you are a fine specimen, aren't you?" "but you can't get through that little opening." and here it did look as if there was some reason in bogie man's words. "i can try, can't i?" said billy. "halt--buzz-z--halt!" cried all the bee sentries, presenting their sting bayonets. "i'm coming in," said billy, preparing to jump. "you do so at the peril of your life," cried the principal sentry. "i have done so many things that way lately," answered billy, "that i've quite grown used to it." "halt! halt! i say." "oh! don't. please don't risk it. remember i'm an old man and a sting might prove fatal." and bogie man trembled like a leaf. "but i'm a friend of princess honey girl. i'm not going to harm her," said billy, thinking it was at least worth while attempting a friendly entrance. "others have said that and stolen our golden walls and our precious jewelry--even the last drop of food in the larder, so stand back." several little boy and girl bees had collected around billy, attracted by the sound of loud voices and hoping to see a fight. they buzzed at billy derisively, and one or two even picked up clover tops to throw at him. he knew that quick action was necessary if he was to get in without a serious fight and at the same time avoid a field brawl. so suddenly he stepped back, made a quick leap directly at the opening of the hive, and dived head foremost through it. in he popped past the startled sentries, the doorway opening wide to admit him, not even brushing his clothes as he entered. he found himself standing in the centre of a great golden court under a magnificent vaulted dome. magnificent? ah! that is too poor a word to describe his surroundings. billy had dreamed of beautiful things, he had read of glittering gold and showers of precious stones, but had all his dreams and all his readings and all the beautiful things he had ever imagined been sifted and sorted, and only the purest and finest selected, the result would have been poor indeed as compared with the interior of the queen bee palace. great diamond arc lights flashed brilliant blue and white rays from the ceiling, and mingled their brightness with the soft yellow glow of topaz lights. beautiful yellow wax candles added their rich, creamy light. the walls were of the richest gold, and instead of being smooth and hard-looking bore the shape of honeycomb, each cell of which showed a distinctive beauty. [illustration: "_allow me to present bogie man._"--page .] the smooth wax floor, giving just enough at each step to make walking a springy, elastic pleasure, was carpeted down the centre with a strip of soft, hand-woven yellow rosebud leaves, and this carpet led to the throne which was carved from one enormous block of amber. but when billy's gaze had travelled this far he had eyes for nothing else. in his sight the lights faded to mere sparks, the golden walls lost their richness, the throne became but a high-backed wooden chair, for seated there before him was honey girl, so radiant, so dazzlingly beautiful that mere gold and jewelry were as nothing compared with her. "honey girl!" he cried. "billy bounce!" exclaimed she, and her voice was as full of gladness as billy's. "_you_ on the throne?" "yes, my aunt the queen bee felt that she was growing old, and to protect me further from nickel plate and bogie man abdicated and made me queen." "you need not have feared them," said billy. "allow me to present bogie man." "_that_, bogie man?" said the princess, or rather the queen, in surprise. "surely you are mistaken. why, bogie man is a monster." "yes, oh queen," said bogie man, humbly, "i used to was. everybody thought i was a terrible fellow, but now that billy bounce has discovered me i'm a broken old man who wouldn't hurt a fly unless it woke me too early in the morning." "brave billy bounce," whispered honey girl. "what he says is true," said billy, and then added modestly, "but i am not brave, i just somehow guessed that bad things and the unseen things that people fear are mostly nothing at all when a fellow faces them." "but few face them as you have done, billy bounce, and--" began the queen, when suddenly a great uproar broke out in the palace. in rushed general merchandise followed by the yellow jacket guard. close on their heels came a company of borer bees carrying their ground augers at charge bayonets. then came a brigade of fighting ants, their black armor shining in the light; next the fierce wasp grenadiers, the tallest soldiers in the army, looking very trim and military with their thin waists and broad shoulders; then in came the horse fly cavalry followed by the tumble bug artillery, each soldier rolling his own cannon ball. and such a fierce buzz as arose from their ranks--officers buzzing orders, orderlies and aides running and riding back and forth. indeed, had not the palace been enormous, i can't imagine how it would have held the army and its noise. "what does this intrusion mean?" asked honey girl, rising. "general merchandise, i await your answer." "it means," said the general excitedly, "that our spies, the mosquito brothers, inform us that this boy" (pointing to billy bounce) "has smuggled bogie man into the palace; and if that be true he dies. ho, guards, seize him!" "hold!" cried honey girl. "leggo!" cried billy. "hold, i say," said the queen. "it is true that bogie man is here." "where! where!" cried general merchandise in great excitement. "ho, guards, seize him if you see him!" "there he stands," and honey girl pointed to bogie man. "that--that bogie man? never!" said the general in surprise. "it is," said billy, "but he is guaranteed harmless." "he looks it," answered general merchandise. "how did it happen?" "billy bounce did it," said honey girl. "you did? then you are our friend. ho, guards, unseize him," and the general warmly shook billy's hand, while the soldiers saluted and went back to their company. at that moment a door opened and in walked the sentry closely guarding nickel plate, bumbus, drone and glucose. "what does this mean?" asked general merchandise. "four tramps who called at the kitchen door for a crumb of water and a drop of bread. we arrested them as suspicious characters," said the head sentry. and tramps and suspicious-looking characters they undoubtedly were. nickel plate, with all the starch gone out of his face, as rusty as an old stove-pipe, his monocle broken, and his patent leather boots bursted and run down at the heels. bumbus, with his moustache out of curl, his hat dented and rimless, his trousers baggy at the knees, and his eyes bleary and bloodshot from lack of sleep. drone--well, it is hard to say what drone did look like, excepting that he carried a tomato can over one shoulder, and his clothes showed signs of many nights spent on park benches. and glucose was fully as disreputable. all the plating was worn off of her comb, her dress was in tatters, and she bore a big label slung around her neck with these words, "glucose, by order of the pure food commission." "nickel plate, bumbus, drone and glucose!" cried billy. "grown rusty," said nickel plate sadly. "i be," murmured bumbus. "i ain't had a bite to eat for three days," whined drone. "can't you give a poor man a dime for a bed?" "and that's the way i used to look," said glucose bitterly, pointing at honey girl. "it isn't what you used to be, it's what you put in the bank," said mr. gas genially, as he floated in through the open door. "and now that all of our enemies are here," said general merchandise, "what shall we do with them?" "speak up, billy bounce," said mr. gas. "i?" said billy. "yes," said honey girl, "you have vanquished them; you shall decide their fate." "then my first suggestion," said billy, "is that bogie man get a position as bogie on the golf links. he will be out of mischief there, and it will give him a decent, honest living. are you willing, bogie man?" "i'll try it," said bogie man humbly. "it's been so long since i made an honest living that it will go hard at first; but one must eat, and i'm out of a job." "good," said honey girl. "general, take him to one side and bring forward the next prisoner." nickel plate was brought before billy. "as to nickel plate," said billy, "i suggest that he go on the stage. he can have all the fun of trying to be wicked without doing any possible harm, and is always sure there to be foiled in the last act." "wise boy," said mr. gas. "i couldn't have done better myself." "thanks," said nickel plate, "you've let me off very easily," and he walked dejectedly to where bogie man stood. "and now for bumbus," said honey girl. "are you sorry for your wickedness?" asked billy. "i be," said bumbus. "you are stout and strong," said billy musingly. "you haven't a bad heart, and you know something about rough-and-tumble fighting. general merchandise, could you put him on your police force?" "certainly," said the general. "good," said billy. "that settles a life job on bumbus. and now for drone." "i don't have to go to work, do i?" whined drone. "indeed you do, and i'm going to get you a position as a truckman among the bee workers." "then i wouldn't be a drone," whimpered he. "exactly," said billy. "there is no room in this world for drones. general, let some of your soldiers give him a shave, a bath, a square meal, some respectable clothes, and put him to work." and drone was led away feebly protesting, but encouraged already by the promise of something to eat. "and glucose," cried honey girl, "i shall take care of, ladies," bowing to her court ladies who surrounded the throne. "glucose will be my understudy. when i feel sick and tired and headachy she will attend court for me, and that she may never again enter into a conspiracy to rob me of my throne, she shall always wear her label, but under her dress." glucose fell on her knees at honey girl's feet and covered her hands with kisses. "let me be always your servant, dear queen, and i will prove that there is some good in glucose after all." every one was much affected by her repentance, and was convinced that thereafter she would lead a good and useful life. which i am glad to say she did. "and now, billy bounce, for your reward," said honey girl. "i ask no reward," said billy earnestly, "except that some day when i am grown up and general manager of the messenger service you will marry me." honey girl blushed and hung her head at this unexpected reply, and then smiling at billy said, "maybe." "hurrah! maybe is will be in beeland," cried everybody, and mr. gas shook billy warmly by the hand and whispered, "that's what comes of keeping your courage up." is it looking too far ahead to say that one day honey girl and billy did marry, and of course lived happily all the rest of their days, while barker with the aid of the soldiers guarded the palace, and every night barked up the singing tree, which with its beautiful music gave much pleasure and delight to billy and the princess? well, it's true anyway, so we will say so. as the goose flies _written & illustrated_ _by_ katharine pyle published by little, brown & co. boston * * * * * _copyright, _, by little, brown, and company _all rights reserved_ printed in the united states of america * * * * * contents chapter page i behind the bookcase ii beyond the wall iii the five little pigs and the goat iv up in the cloud-land v the house of the seven little dwarfs vi the great gray wolf vii the magic lamp viii bluebeard's house ix beyond the mist x in the house of the queerbodies xi the princess goldenhair xii home again * * * * * list of illustrations "then away he flew toward the dark line of forest" _frontispiece_ "ellen stood at the nursery window" _page_ "presently she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the sky" _page_ "mother goose told her how to do it" _page_ "ellen thought they were the cunningest little things for dolls that she had ever seen" _page_ "as her eyes grew used to the gloom she saw a very large and very ugly goat" _page_ "the gander and ellen began to let the rope slip" _face page_ "there stood a little dwarf holding a great wooden spoon" _page_ "it beat and buffeted them with its wings and hissed so piercingly in their ears that they did not know what was after them" _face page_ "close to her was an enormous gray wolf" _page_ "spread its wings and flew up over his head" _page_ "the slaves threw themselves down before her" _face page_ "a terrible black genie appeared before her" _page_ "ellen climbed upon the gander's back and she then could just reach the knocker" _page_ "ellen raised the horn to her lips and blew" _page_ "still he kept whispering in its ear" _page_ "an enormous dragon lay stretched in a rocky defile" _page_ "she saw a tall man oddly dressed in green and yellow" _page_ "timidly the little girl took the white hand" _face page_ "the fairy knelt before her and lifted the edge of the cloak" _page_ "the fairy drew his sword and pointed it at her" _face page_ "ellen put her ear against the golden wall" _page_ tailpiece _page_ * * * * * [illustration] _chapter one_ _behind the bookcase_ ellen stood at the nursery window looking out at the gray sky and the wet, blowing branches of the trees. it had been raining and blowing all day. the roof pipes poured out steady waterfalls; the lilacs bent over, heavy with the rain. up in the sky a bird was trying to beat its way home against the wind. but ellen was not thinking of any of these things. she was thinking of the story that her grandmother had forgotten again. ellen's grandmother was very old; so old that she often called ellen by the names of her own little children; children who had grown up or died years and years ago. she was so old she could remember things that had happened seventy years before, but then she forgot a great many things, even things that had occurred only a few minutes before. sometimes she forgot where her spectacles were when they were pushed back on her head. most of all she forgot the stories she tried to tell ellen. she would just get to a very interesting place, and then she would push her spectacles up on her forehead and look vaguely about her. "i forget what came next," she would say. very often ellen could help her out. "why, granny, don't you know the little bear's voice was so thin and shrill it woke little silverhair right up? then when she opened her eyes and saw the three bears--" or, "why then when jack saw the giant was fast asleep he caught up the golden hen--" and so the little girl would go on and finish the story for the old grandmother. but there was one story that ellen could not finish for her grandmother. it was a story that she had never heard; at least she had never heard the end of it. it was about a little princess named goldenlocks who always had to wear a sooty hood over her beautiful shining hair, and who had a wicked stepmother. again and again the grandmother had begun the story, but she never got further in it than where goldenlocks was combing her hair at night all alone in the kitchen. when she had reached that point she would stop and say, "ah, what was it that came next? what was it, little clara? can't you remember? it's so long since i have told it." clara was the name by which the grandmother oftenest called ellen. sometimes the little girl tried to make up an ending to the story, but always the grandmother would shake her head. "no, no," she would cry, "that's not it. what was it? what was it? ah, if i could but remember!" she worried and fretted so over the story that ellen was always sorry to have her begin it. sometimes the old grandmother almost cried. now as the child stood looking through the window at the rainy world outside, her thoughts were upon the story, for the grandmother had been very unhappy over it all day; ellen had not been able to get her to talk or think of anything else. the house was very quiet, for it was afternoon. the mother was busy in the sewing-room, grandmother was taking a nap, and nurse was crooning softly to the baby in the room across the hall. ellen had come to the nursery to get a book of jingles; she was going to read aloud to her mother. now as she turned from the window it occurred to her that she would put the bookcase in order before she went down to the sewing-room. that was just the thing to do on a rainy day. she sat down before the shelves and began pulling the books out, now and then opening one to look at a picture or to straighten a bookmarker. the nursery walls were covered with a flowered paper, and when ellen had almost emptied the shelves she noticed that the paper back of them was of a different color from that on the rest of the room. it had not faded. the blue color between the vines looked soft and cloudlike, too, and almost as though it would melt away at a touch. ellen put her hand back to feel it. instead of touching a hard, cold wall as she had expected, her hand went right through between the vines as though there were nothing there. ellen rose to her knees and put both hands across the shelf. she found she could draw the vines aside just as though they were real. she even thought she caught a glimpse of skies and trees between them. in haste she sprang to her feet and pushed the bookcase to one side so that she could squeeze in behind it. she caught hold of the wall-paper vines and drew them aside, and then she stepped right through the wall and into the world beyond. _chapter two_ _beyond the wall_ it was not raining at all beyond the wall. overhead was a soft, mild sky, neither sunny nor cloudy. before her stretched a grassy green meadow, and far away in the distance was a dark line of forest. just at the foot of the meadow was a little house. it was such a curious little house that ellen went nearer to look at it. it was not set solidly upon the ground, but stood upon four fowls' legs, so that you could look clear under it; and the roof was covered with shining feathers that overlapped like feathers upon the back of a duck. beside the door, hitched to a post by a bridle just as a horse might be, was an enormous white gander. while ellen stood staring with all her eyes at the house and the gander, the door opened, and a little old woman, in buckled shoes, with a white apron over her frock and a pointed hat on her head, stepped out, as if to look about her and enjoy the pleasant air. presently she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the sky; then she looked at the meadows, and last her eyes fell upon the little girl who stood there staring at her. the old woman gazed and gazed. [illustration] "well, i declare," she cried, "if it isn't a little girl! what are you doing here, child?" "i'm just looking at your house." "but how did you happen to come here?" "i came through the nursery wall. i didn't know it was soft before." a number of queer-looking little people had come out from the house while ellen and the old woman were talking, and they gathered about in a crowd and stared so hard and were so odd-looking that ellen began to feel somewhat shy. they kept coming out and coming out until she wondered how the house could have held them all. there was a little boy with a pig in his arms, and now and then the pig squealed shrilly. there was a maid with a cap and apron, and her sleeves were so full of round, heavy things that the seams looked ready to burst. a pocket that hung at her side was full, too, and bumped against her as she walked. she came quite close to ellen, and the child could tell by the smell that the things in her sleeves and pocket were oranges. there was one who ellen knew must be a king by the crown on his head; he was a jolly-looking fellow, and had a pipe in one hand and a bowl in the other. there were big people and little people, young people and old; and a dish and spoon came walking out with the rest. but what seemed almost the strangest of all to ellen was to see an old lady come riding out through the door of the house on a white horse. "i wonder where she keeps it," thought the little girl to herself. "i shouldn't think it would be very pleasant to have a horse in the house with you." the old lady's hands were loaded with rings, and as the horse moved there was a jingling as of bells. the words of a nursery rhyme rang through ellen's head in time to the jingling:-- "_rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes._" "why," she cried, "it's the old lady of banbury cross. and"--she looked around at the crowd--"why, i do believe they're _all_ out of mother goose rhymes." "of course they are," said the little old woman with the pointed hat. "what did you suppose would live in mother goose's house?" "and are you mother goose?" asked ellen. "yes, i am. don't you think i look like the pictures?" "but--but--i didn't know you were alive. i thought you were only a rhyme." "only a rhyme! well, i should think not. how do you suppose there could be rhymes unless there was something to make them about?" "and all the rest, too," said ellen dreamily, looking about her. "'tom, tom, the piper's son,' and 'dingty, diddlety, my mammy's maid,' and 'old king cole'--why, they're _all_ alive. how queer it seems! i wonder if the stories are alive, too." "yes, just as alive as we are." "and the story grandmother forgot--oh, _do_ you suppose i could find that story?" "the story she forgot!" answered mother goose thoughtfully. "what was it about?" "why, that's it; i don't know. nobody knows only just grandmother, and she's forgotten." mother goose shook her head. "if every one's forgotten it, i'm afraid it must be at the house of the queerbodies. that's where they send all the forgotten stories; then they make them over into new ones." "couldn't i go there to find it?" "i don't know. i've never been there myself. of course, they wouldn't let me in. but you're a real child. maybe you could get in. only, how would you get there? it's a long, long journey, through the forest and over hills and streams." "i don't know," said ellen. "i've never journeyed very far; only just to aunt josephine's." mother goose knitted her brows and began to think hard. suddenly her face brightened. "i'll tell you what i'll do. i'll lend you my gander; and he'll carry you there in short order, however far it is." "oh, thank you, but i don't believe i could ride him! i'd fall off, i'm sure." "no, you wouldn't. he goes as smoothly as a dream goose, and almost as fast. yes, i'll lend him to you. but there's one thing i'd like you to do for me in return when you reach the house of the queerbodies." "what is that?" "i'd like you to ask about a rhyme i used to have. i think they must have it there, for i've lost it; and if it hasn't been made over yet, perhaps you could manage to get it for me." "what's its name?" asked ellen. "well, it hasn't any name, but it looks like this:-- "_johnnykin learned to ride the wind, but he wouldn't let any one on behind. but the wind ran away with johnny one day, and that wasn't such fun i have heard him say._" ellen promised to do what she could about it, and then mother goose sent little boy blue to unhitch the gander and bring him to them. ellen felt rather nervous about mounting him, but mother goose told her how to do it. [illustration] then the white gander spread his wings. the wind rustled through them like the sound made by the leaves of a book when they are turned. up, up rose the gander as smoothly as a bubble rises through the air and then away he flew toward the dark line of forest that ellen saw in the distance. _chapter three_ _the five little pigs and the goat_ on and on went the white gander so smoothly and swiftly that the country slipped away beneath just as the leaves of a book do when they slip from under your finger too fast for you to see the print or pictures. "i wonder what that is," said ellen as a spot of red shone out among the green beneath. the gander stayed his wings so that ellen could look. it was a little red brick house. around it were other houses that looked as though they were built of sods. they had chimneys and from two or three of these chimneys thin lines of smoke rose through the still air. as the gander hovered above them from a knoll a little way beyond there suddenly sounded a shrill and piteous squeaking. "oh, what's that?" cried ellen. "it must be a pig and i'm afraid some one is hurting it. oh dear!" "do you want to go and see mistress?" asked the gander. ellen said she did, so the gander turned in that direction. when they reached the knoll they found that it was indeed a pig that was making the noise, but ellen could not see why it was shrieking so. it sat there all alone under an oak tree and with its pink nose lifted to the sky and its eyes shut it wept aloud. the tears trickled down its bristly cheeks. suddenly it stopped squeaking, and getting up began quietly hunting about for acorns, and craunching them as though it found them very good. "what's the matter, you poor little pig?" asked ellen, looking down at it from the gander's back. she had not spoken with any idea of receiving any answer. the little pig looked up when he heard her voice. as soon as he saw her he sat down and began squeaking so shrilly that ellen felt like covering her ears. "week! week! week!" he cried. "can't find my way home." for a moment ellen was so surprised at hearing the pig speak that she could not say anything. then she asked, "where do you live?" but the pig did not hear her. "where do you live?" she repeated in a louder tone; then she shouted, "hush!" so loudly that the little pig stopped short with his mouth half open and the tears still standing in his eyes. "where do you live?" she asked for the third time. "i live over by the wood in the little sod house next to the brick one," answered the little pig. "well, isn't that it there?" and ellen pointed to the sod houses over which she had just flown. the little pig looked. "why, so it is," he cried. then curling up his little tail he trotted away in that direction. the white gander flew beside him and ellen talked as they went. "why didn't you see it before?" "i was coming home from market with my brother; he's quite a big pig; and i stopped to eat some acorns, so he said he wouldn't wait for me any longer, and he went on and that lost me." "but if you'd just looked you would have seen it." "i couldn't look because i was hunting for acorns, and then i began to cry, and then i hunted for some more acorns." it sounded so foolish, ellen couldn't help laughing. "i think i'd better go home with you or you may get lost again," she said. presently she asked, "how many brothers have you?" "four," answered the pig. "one of them's going to have roast beef for dinner." suddenly he sat down and began to cry again. "what in the world's the matter now?" asked ellen in desperation. "oweek! oweek! maybe he's eaten it all." "well you'd better hurry home and see. if you keep on sitting here and crying, i know you won't get any." this thought made the little pig jump up and start toward home as fast as his short legs would carry him. when they reached the sod house next to the brick one another pig was standing in the doorway looking out. he was larger than ellen's companion. he stared hard at the little girl and her gander, but when he spoke it was to the little pig. "you naughty little pig, why didn't you come home?" the little pig did not answer this question. "has middling finished his roast beef?" he asked. "there's some fat left." as the little pig hurried in through the door, ellen asked of the other, "is this your house?" "yes," grunted the pig. three other pigs had appeared in the doorway by this time. they all stared at the little girl. "it's a dear little house," said ellen. "would you like to look inside?" asked the largest pig. ellen said she would. she slipped from the gander and the pigs made way for her to go in; but she only looked through the doorway, without entering. the littlest pig was seated at a table eating beef fat as fast as he could. ellen did not think he ate very nicely. "it's a dear little house," she repeated. then she looked about her. at the window of one of the other houses she caught a glimpse of a head. it looked like a cat's head. "who live in all these other houses?" she asked. "well, in that brick house lives another pig," answered the pig they called middling. "sometimes he comes to see us, but he doesn't have _very_ much to do with us, because he's in a story; a _real_ story you know, and we're only in a rhyme." "what story is he in?" asked ellen. "the story of the wolf that huffed and puffed and blew the house in. he had two brothers, and one built a house of leaves and one built a house of straw, and the wolf came and blew their houses in and ate them up, but this one built his house of bricks, so when the wolf came to it--" "oh, yes, i know that story," interrupted ellen, for she had heard it so often she was rather tired of it. "who lives in the house beyond that?" "the seven little kids. a wolf really did swallow them once, but their mother cut him open with her scissors while he was asleep and they all got out." "and who lives in the little furry house with the chimneys like pointed ears?" "an old cat. she's nothing but a rhyme. she's very particular, though. why, one time she was just as _mad_ at her kittens, just because they lost some mittens she had knitted for them." so middling went on talking of all the people who lived in the village, while ellen listened and wondered. it seemed so strange she could hardly believe it was all true. "what fun you must have together!" she said at last. the pigs looked at each other and grunted. "we would have," said a slim pig that the others called ringling, "if it wasn't for an old goat that lives in a cave down at the end of the street." "oh, but he's a naughty one," broke in thumbie, the fattest pig. "he's always doing mischief and playing tricks on us." "that was a bad trick he played on you, thumbie," said middling. "what was that?" asked the little girl. "well, we were all away except thumbie, and he was asleep in the doorway, and the old goat saw him and brought a paint pot and painted his back so it looked like a big fat face lying there. so when we came home we didn't know what it was, and we were scared, but thumbie woke up and began to get up, and ringling she squeaked, 'run! run! big face is after us,' so we all began to run. thumbie he saw us all running, so he got scared too, and he ran after us, and the faster we ran the faster he ran. after a while he tripped and fell, and then he began to cry and we knew who it was." "oh, yes, he's as mean as mean can be," went on middling. "why, one time when our raspberries were ripe old shave-head came here--" "who's shave-head?" interrupted ellen. "oh, he's the goat. old shave-head came here and asked if he couldn't have some of our raspberries, and we said yes he could if he'd give us a present, and he said he would, so he went home and brought a big pannikin and put it on the table. it was covered. "then he went out in the garden and began to pick raspberries as fast as ever he could. "we all sat round and wondered what was in the pannikin. "littlesie guessed it was acorns, and thumbie thought it was apple parings, and i thought it was pancakes because it was in a pannikin." "and what was it?" asked ellen, very much interested. "well, it was a joke," said middling slowly. "he'd fixed up a sort of big jumping-jack inside, and when we took off the lid it jumped out at us and said, 'woof!' it scared us so we all squeaked and jumped back in our chairs, and the chairs upset and down we came, _clatterly-slam-bang_!" ellen could not help laughing at that. "he painted all our dolls, too," said fatty, "and almost spoiled them." "have you dolls?" cried ellen in surprise. [illustration] "oh, yes, indeed. i'll show them to you," and thumbie ran into the house to get them. when he brought them out ellen thought they were the cunningest little things for dolls that she had ever seen. they were little wooden pigs just like the real pigs themselves only very small. but they were painted in the funniest way. one was bright purple with a yellow nose, and one was pea-green with red legs, another was sky-blue spotted all over with pink, and the other two were just as funny-looking. after ellen had looked at them she asked, "did the goat paint them that way?" "yes, he did, and i think it's real mean." it was middling who answered. "what are some of the other tricks he plays?" middling thought awhile. "i don't remember any more." "there was that fourth-o'-july trick he played on the mother of the seven kids," suggested ringling. "oh, yes. that was mean too; she's so good. she bakes us cookies sometimes and then she gives the old goat some. she's always good to him and nobody likes him either." "what was the trick?" "he took torpedoes and put them all down the path at the mother goat's. it was a gravel path, and she thought the torpedoes were just part of it. fourth-o'-july morning she came out to get a pail of water and when she struck a torpedo with her hard hoof it went off, bang! it scared her so she jumped up in the air, and when she came down it was on some more torpedoes. bang! bang! they went. every time she made a leap and came down some more torpedoes went off. mother goat was so scared she went to bed for all the rest of the day, and it was fourth-o'-july, too. i just wish we could drive him away." "so do we," cried all the other pigs. "then we'd be happy. he's just an ugly old baldhead, anyway." "i never saw a bald goat," said ellen. "his master shaved him," said ringling, "he was so bad." "why? what did he do?" "well, his master had three sons, and he sent them one at a time to take the goat out to pasture. every time before the boy brought the goat home he would ask, 'goat, have you had enough?' and the goat would answer: "'_i am satisfied quite; no more can i bite._' then the boy would bring him home and put him in the stable. but the father always wanted to be sure his goat had had enough, so he would go out himself and say, 'goat have you had enough to-day?' then it would answer: "'_i only jumped about the fields, and never found a bite._' it made the father so angry to think his sons should have treated the goat that way that he drove them away from home." "i know," ellen interrupted. "then when the father found out that the goat had deceived him and made him send his sons away--" "he shaved the goat's head and drove it away with a yard-stick," cried middling, raising his voice. he wanted to tell the story himself. "then it hid in a bear's cave--" "i know." "and the bear was afraid to go home, for he could just see the goat's eyes shining in the cave and he didn't know what it was, and he was afraid to go in; but a bee said it would see, so it went in and stung the goat on the head and then the goat jumped out of the cave and ran till it came here, and i do wish somebody would take it away." "i would," said ellen, "if i knew where to take it." she was not afraid of the goat, for she had a pet one at home that drew a little wagon. littlesie, who had finished his roast beef and had come to the door, looked frightened. "you couldn't," he cried. "why baldhead would butt you right over if you tried to touch him." "mistress," said the white gander, "i know how you could make the goat go away." "how?" asked ellen. then the gander told his plan, while ellen and all the five pigs listened. "good, good," cried the pigs when they had heard it, and they clapped their hoofs and leaped up into the air. ellen, too, thought it a good plan and said she would do everything as the gander told her. the pigs showed her where the goat lived, and then they ran back home, for the gander said it would be better for ellen and him to go to see the goat by themselves. it was in a sort of a cave under a hillock that he lived. the cave had but one window and that was only a hole through the earth, but it had a doorway and a wooden door. there ellen knocked and a rough voice within asked, "who is that knocking at my door?" and ellen answered, "some one who never was here before." again the rough voice spoke: "_then lift the latch that i may see who dares to come and knock for me._" then ellen lifted the latch and after a moment's hesitation pushed open the door and stepped inside. [illustration] at first it seemed so dark in the cave after the brightness outside that she could see nothing, but as her eyes grew used to the gloom she saw that one end of the cave was almost filled with straw, and upon this was sitting a very large and very ugly goat. his hair was rough and shaggy; his head was shaved and his little eyes looked at ellen fiercely from under his curving horns. "what do you mean by coming and disturbing me here in my cave?" he asked. his voice was so very harsh that for a moment ellen was rather frightened, but she remembered her pet goat at home and spoke up bravely: "if you please, i've come to ask you whether you won't go away and find some other place to live." "_go!_" cried the goat, half rising. "me go?" "yes," answered ellen. "you see, you tease and bother the animals that live here so much that they all want you to go, and i told the pigs i would come and tell you." "then you can tell them," howled the goat in a rage, "that i'll never go. have i sent three sons packing from their father's house and frightened a bear from his cave to be ordered out of my house at last by some pigs?" "i don't know," said ellen, "but you'll have to go anyway." "i won't go," howled the goat. "yes, you'll have to," said ellen. "but i won't," howled the goat. then ellen did what the gander had told her to do. she put her hands to her mouth and buzzed into them like a bee. the goat started up as though he had been shot. ever since he had been stung out of the bear's cave there was nothing in the world that he feared like a bee. he began to shiver and shake, and his bald head turned quite pale, "oh don't sting me," he cried. "please don't, and i'll do whatever you wish." "then come with me," said ellen, "and i won't hurt you." "what are you going to do with me," asked the goat quite meekly, getting up and coming to her. "i don't know just yet, but you can't stay here any longer. i'll try to find a good home for you somewheres." then she fastened a stout twine, that the pigs had given her, about the goat's neck, and led him forth. the animals in the village had heard from the pigs how ellen had gone to try to get the old goat to go away, and they were all standing at their doors watching. they had expected to see ellen and the gander come running from the cave with the old goat butting them. how surprised they were to see their enemy come out trotting meekly at ellen's heels, following wherever she chose to lead it. they all murmured together of their surprise but they were still too much afraid of the goat to shout or show the delight they felt. ellen nodded shyly to the animals as she walked down the street. when she reached the pigs' house they were all watching for her. middling ran out and pushed something into her hand. "it's a present for you," he whispered. then he ran back to join the others, but he was so glad the goat was going that he could not help jumping up into the air and squeaking as he ran. the present he had given ellen was the prettiest of the little wooden pigs; the one that was painted sky-blue with pink spots. _chapter four_ _up in the cloud-land_ ellen walked on toward the forest, followed by the white gander and the goat. she wondered what she could do with the goat. she could not take it with her, and if she turned it loose it would go and worry some other animals, she was sure. over toward the right at the very edge of the wood was a house. ellen thought perhaps the people who lived there would take care of the goat, so she went over toward it. when she reached the house, she found it was a very comfortable one with a porch covered with vines, and a stable and out-buildings at the back. on the porch sat a gray-haired woman dressed in silk. she was looking up toward the quiet sky and listening to music that sounded from within the house. ellen had never heard such beautiful music in all her life. as long as it sounded she could do nothing but stand and listen. through the open window the little girl could see the top of a golden harp. she supposed some one must be playing on it, but she had never known before that any one in the world could play as beautifully as that. when the music stopped the woman on the porch stirred and sighed. then she lowered her eyes and her gaze fell upon ellen. she rose and came to the edge of the porch. "good-morning, child," she said. "did you want to see me?" "yes," said ellen. "i wanted to know whether you didn't want a goat." "why, no," answered the woman with some surprise, "i don't. we have all the animals about the place that we want." "i wish you _would_ take this one," urged ellen. "i don't know what to do with it." "how do you come to be leading it about the country? is it your goat?" "not exactly." she began to tell the woman all her story of how she had followed the little pig to the village; of how she had found the animals were being worried by the goat, and of how she had made it come away with her. it all sounded so strange, ellen was half afraid the woman would not believe it. she did not seem to think it surprising, however; but when ellen had ended she shook her head. "no," she said; "we wouldn't want such a mischievous animal about, i'm sure; but i'll ask my son." then she called, "jack, jack!" in answer a tall, stout lad came to the door. "what is it, mother?" he asked. "here's a child who has a goat, and she says this, that, and the other" (and the woman repeated ellen's story). "now the end of the matter is, she wants to leave the goat here with us." "i don't see how we can--" began the lad slowly, when suddenly he stopped and listened intently with a strange, scared look on his face. his mother caught him by the arm. "what is it, jack?" she cried. "what are you listening to? it isn't--" jack nodded without answering. and now all listened, and ellen knew that a sound she had heard some minutes before, without particularly noticing it, was the voice of some one weeping and complaining. the voice was very faint and far off, but in the silence the little girl could make out the words, "i can't get down! i can't get down! woe is me, but it's lonely up here." ellen could not tell where the voice came from, but it seemed to come from the sky. there was silence for a moment and then it began again lamenting and weeping. the woman threw her silk apron over her head and began to rock herself and sob. "oh, the poor thing! i can't stand it, jack," she cried. "you've got to get her down somehow. you've _got_ to." the lad had turned somewhat pale. "what can i do, mother?" he asked. "you know i've tried everything i know, but there's never a ladder in all the world that would reach that far, and we have no more such beans as those." "who is it?" asked ellen in a whisper. the woman put down her apron and wiped her eyes. "it's that giant's poor wife," she answered. "you see it all came from jack's selling our cow for a hatful of beans. i punished him well for it, but what good did that do? then he planted them, and one of them grew so fast it grew right up to the sky." "oh; jack and the beanstalk!" cried ellen. "then nothing would do but jack must climb up and see what was at the top of the beanstalk. he climbed and he climbed," the woman went on, her voice broken by sobs, "until at last he climbed right up to the sky. there he found a wonderful country and a giant had a castle there. the giant was very rich. besides his other treasures he had two bags of golden money, a golden hen, and a golden harp that played of itself. perhaps you heard the harp playing as you came up." "yes, i did," said ellen. "all these things jack managed to steal, one at a time, and brought them down the beanstalk with him. that was all right enough, for those things had once belonged to jack's father, and had been stolen from him by the giant. jack had no trouble in getting away with the bags of money and the hen, but the time he brought the harp the giant discovered him and chased him. he came clambering down the beanstalk after the lad, and would have killed us both without doubt, but jack ran in and got a hatchet and chopped down the beanstalk. the giant, who was only half way down, fell with it and was killed, and i never was sorry for him a moment, for he was a wicked, cruel giant. the only thing i grieve about is his poor wife. she was so good to jack, and now she is left there all alone in the giant's house, and no way of getting her down again, as far as i can see." the woman began to sob again more bitterly than ever. as for jack, he turned away and, putting his arm against the wall, hid his face in it. the white gander plucked ellen by the skirt. "mistress, mistress! come with me a moment," he whispered. ellen followed him a little apart. "i think i might help you to get the giant's wife down," he said. "how would you do it?" "do you mount upon my back and i'll fly up there with you, for wings can fly where never ladder can reach. when we're once up there we'll soon find some way to get her down." ellen was pleased with this advice, and returning to the porch she told jack and his mother what the gander had said. they were filled with joy and gratitude. "if you only will get her down there is nothing you can ask for that we will not give you," cried the mother, "even the golden harp itself." ellen seated herself upon the gander's back and gathered the reins into her fingers. then the bird spread its strong wings and rose in the air. up and up it flew. the sky seemed to grow nearer and jack and his mother and the old bald goat shrank to mere specks below. up, up, until ellen grew dizzy with the height and closed her eyes. there was a slight jar, and then the gander spoke, "mistress, we are here." ellen unclosed her eyes and looked about her. she was in a wide gray country, such as she had never seen before. everything about her was gray, the trees, the grass, the streams and sky--everything; and not far away was a gigantic, shadowy gray castle. close to where the gander had alighted stood a little old woman with her hands clasped. she was looking at ellen with wide, wondering eyes. presently she came nearer, and timidly stretching out her hand she touched ellen with her finger. "are you real, or are you only a dream?" she asked. "why i'm real, of course," said ellen. the little old woman caught her by the arm and began to sob with joy. "oh, i'm so glad, so glad," she cried. "i've been so lonely up here. you won't go away and leave me here alone again, will you?" "i've come to take you down," said ellen. "oh, that's better still. it's many a long and weary year since my foot has been on the dear green grass. but how will you get me down?" "i thought maybe the gander would carry us," said ellen, but the white gander shook his head. "no, no; my wings are not strong enough for that, and if i should fall we would all three break our necks." "then what shall we do?" "i have a rope," said the little old woman timidly. "while i have been up here alone i spent my time making it, and now i think it is long enough. i often thought i would try to lower myself to the earth by it, but i was afraid." ellen looked at the gander. "that might do," he said. "bring it here, and bring a basket, too; the biggest one you have." the little old woman hastened away, and in a short time returned with the rope and a basket. "now tie them together," said the gander. ellen and the old woman did this, seeing to it that the knots were tight. [illustration] then the white gander made ellen twist the rope around a tree, so that the basket would hang down just over the cloudy edge of the sky country. "now get in the basket," said the gander. the little old woman looked rather frightened, but she did as she was bid. then the gander and ellen began to let the rope slip, and as it slipped the basket slowly sank from sight. the weight did not seem great because of the rope's being twisted about the tree. down and down went the basket and the little old woman in it; down and down went the rope. ellen thought they never would get done letting it slip. at last there was no more pull on it. "she has reached the ground," said the gander. "and now, mistress, get on my back and we will fly down." "oh, i'm almost afraid, we are so far up." "shut your eyes and hold me by the neck." ellen seated herself upon the gander's back. then she clasped her arms about its neck and closed her eyes, as she was bid and then the gander flew out over the edge of the cloud-land. it took but a little while for them to find themselves once more down in front of the vine-covered porch, and there was the little old woman with jack and his mother, and they were joyful indeed. "and now what will you have as a reward?" asked jack's mother. "will you have the golden harp? or will you have a bag of golden money? or what?" but ellen said she would not take anything, for she did not wish to burden down the gander. all she asked was that they would keep the goat and be kind to him, and that they would tell her how to get to the queerbodies' house. "the first i will gladly do," said jack's mother, "but as to the second, all i can tell you is that the queerbodies' house lies on the other side of the forest; but if you ask the forest folk, no doubt they can direct you how to go." "this you must take at least," cried the little old woman; "it is all i brought from the gray country." she lifted her skirt, and from the pocket of the petticoat beneath she drew out an egg. it was just the size of a hen's egg and shaped like one, but ellen exclaimed with admiration when she saw it, for it was all of pure yellow gold, and shone like glass. "take it," said the little old woman, "i have no need of it now, for jack and his mother have promised that i shall live here with them and share all that they have. you see you can easily carry this." ellen took the egg and thanked the little old woman. then bidding good-by to all, she seated herself upon her gander, and away they flew so swiftly that almost immediately the vine-covered house was far away, and they found themselves at the edge of the deep, green forest. _chapter five_ _the house of the seven little dwarfs_ "mistress," said the gander, "you will have to alight now if we are to go in here in search of the forest folk. it would only bruise my wings for nothing if i tried to fly where the trees are so thick." "very well," answered ellen, stepping down from his back to the ground. "and i do believe," she added, "that i see a house now beyond those bushes. don't you?" "yes, i believe i do," said the gander. "let us go over in that direction and see." a very short walk brought them to the house. it was a very cunning little house, with a door and windows just about large enough for a large child. ellen went up to the door and knocked. she could hear some one rattling about inside and moving things around, but there was no answer to her rap, so she knocked again. [illustration] a moment's silence followed, and then the door was suddenly and violently thrown open. there stood a little dwarf holding a great wooden spoon in his hand as though it were a club. his eyes had a scared look. "who are you, and what do you want here?" he cried, in a voice that he tried to make very big and bold, though it trembled in spite of him. "i am ellen," answered the little girl, "and i stopped here to ask if you could tell me the way to the queerbodies' house." "oh, is that all," said the dwarf with a sigh of relief. "i was afraid when you first knocked that you might be one of those bad underground dwarfs. but come in; come in. i don't know the way myself, but maybe one of my brothers may. they'll be here soon if you'll come in and wait a bit. i'm just cooking dinner for them." "thank you," said ellen. "may my gander come in too?" "yes, yes; bring him in." as ellen followed the dwarf into the house she looked about her and thought it was the very cunningest little house she had ever seen. in the middle of the room was a long low table set with seven wooden bowls, seven wooden forks, and seven wooden spoons. around the table were seven little chairs just the right size for children or dwarfs. there were also a wooden dresser painted red, a dough-trough, a clock, and a settee; but everything was small. ellen thought what fun it would be to keep house there. the only big thing in the room was a huge black pot that stood on the stove, and in which something was cooking. the dwarf was obliged to stand on a stool in order to reach over and stir it with his big spoon. "porridge," he said looking over his shoulder at ellen. then he repeated in a tone of contempt, "_porridge!_" giving it a last stir he stepped down from the stool, and using all his strength he pushed the pot to the back part of the stove. then he came and sat down opposite to ellen. "i suppose you think porridge is a strange thing to have for dinner," he said, still speaking bitterly. "so do i. and to think i had a good dinner all ready and cooked just a little while ago!" "what became of it?" asked ellen. "why i just went a little way into the forest to see if my brothers were coming, and in that little time that i was away those bad underground dwarfs were here, and when i came back the meat was gone, and the potatoes were gone, and ashes were dropped in the soup, so it was fit for nothing but to be thrown out. oh, they're bad ones, they are." "so then you cooked some porridge?" "it was the best i could do at this hour of the day. there'll be grumbling enough about it when my brothers come home. those underground dwarfs are always up to some mischief or other. they weren't so much trouble--indeed they didn't trouble us at all as long as the good bear prince was about. they were too much afraid of him even if he was enchanted; but he broke the enchantment and married snow-white and went to live in his castle, far away. now the underground dwarfs have no one to be afraid of, and we daren't leave the house alone a minute or they're up to some mischief." ellen sat staring at the dwarf. she knew the story of that bear prince very well. it was all about how he came to the house where rose-red and snow-white lived and asked for shelter one bitter winter night. he was in the shape of a bear then because he had been enchanted by a wicked dwarf, but afterward he caught the dwarf and killed him, and then his bear-skin dropped from him. so he came back to his true shape of a handsome prince and married little snow-white. ellen knew the story almost by heart, but never before had she believed that it was really true. "and did you really see that enchanted prince with your very own eyes?" she asked. "oh, yes; we knew him well while he was a bear. many and many a time has he lain there before that very stove snoring away. but after he once began going to the widow's house he stopped coming here. the widow was the mother of snow-white and rose-red. "perhaps it was just as well though, anyway. he might have frightened our own beautiful snowdrop, for she was keeping house for us then." "who was snowdrop?" asked ellen. "she was the daughter of a king, but she had a wicked stepmother who hated her. the stepmother gave her to a huntsman bidding him kill her, but the man had pity on the poor child. he helped her to escape and then killed a deer and took its heart to the wicked stepmother, pretending it was snowdrop's heart. then snowdrop came here to live with us. we sheltered her and loved her, but the wicked stepmother hunted her out and came here to take the poor child's life." "oh, i know," cried ellen eagerly. "it's the story of the magic mirror." but the dwarf went on as though he had not heard her. his thoughts were all of those past days when snowdrop had made their little house bright with her beauty. "yes, she came here, that wicked queen. she came in disguise while we were away, pretending to have laces and stays for sale. we had warned snowdrop to beware of all strangers, but the child was so good and innocent herself that she could not think harm of any one. "she talked to the stepmother and looked at her wares without knowing her. she bought a beautiful pair of stays, too. then the wicked queen said she would lace them up for her. she laced them, and suddenly drew the cord so tight that snowdrop could not breathe, but fell down as though dead. "she was not dead, however, and when we came home we cut the cord so she could breathe, and so we saved her. "once the wicked one brought a poisoned comb and gave it to snowdrop, and as soon as it was put in her hair snowdrop fell down as though dead. then too we saved her, drawing out the comb. "but the third time we could do nothing. it was a piece of a poisoned apple that the stepmother brought her. snowdrop took a bite of the apple and it lodged in her throat. when we came home, there she lay on the floor as though dead and we could not tell what it was that ailed her. "we put her in a crystal casket, meaning to keep her always. "but a prince came by that way and saw snowdrop lying there motionless. though she could not move nor speak he loved her so dearly that when he begged for her we could not refuse him. we gave her to him and he carried her away, but on the journey the apple jolted out and she opened her eyes and spoke and lived. "she is a great queen now, but she has never forgotten us. every month she comes to see us in her great chariot drawn by six white horses and with out-riders. oh, you should see her then, so grand and beautiful. but she is not proud. she sits and eats with us just as she used to do. yes, and she cooked us a dinner, too, one time. cooked it with her own royal hands, laughing all the while." "oh, i _wish_ i could see her," cried ellen. the dwarf sat smiling to himself and rubbing one hand over the hairy back of the other. suddenly he started from his thoughts. "there come my brothers," he cried. gathering up the wooden bowls he carried them over to the porridge pot and began to fill them. there was a sound of footsteps and voices outside, and presently in through the doorway came six more sturdy dwarfs, all looking as like the one by the stove as one pea is like another. they all stopped and stared at ellen. "who is this?" asked one of them. "oh, it's just a child from the real world," said the dwarf by the stove. "nothing to be afraid of. she just stopped here to ask her way to the queerbodies' house, but i don't know how to tell her." "i know the way," said one of the new-comers. "but sit down, child; you must have a bite and a sup with us before you go." "thank you, i don't think i'm hungry," said ellen. "what's this?" cried another dwarf, eying the porridge that had been set before him. "where's our good dinner of soup and meat?" while the stay-at-home told his story of the lost dinner the looks of the other dwarfs grew blacker and blacker. "see now," cried one of them, striking his hairy fist upon the table; "'tis just as i tell you; those underground dwarfs grow more bold and mischievous every day. there's nothing for it but for two of us to stay at home, one to cook and one to act as guard." "but, brother, how can we do that?" asked another. "our hands are few enough as it is, for the work to be done." "if there were but some way to frighten them off," said another mournfully. "but i don't see how we could do that." "why don't you make a scarecrow to frighten them away? that's the way we do at home," ellen suggested. "what is a scarecrow?" asked another dwarf hopefully, but when ellen told him he shook his head. "no, no; they're so quick they'd guess in a minute that we were trying to trick them, and that it couldn't move." "well, i know what we'll do," cried ellen. "we won't make a scarecrow; we'll make a scare-gander. we'll dress the gander up like a figure and it shall sit there quietly, and then, when the dwarfs come in to look at it, it can fly up and beat them with its wings so they'll never dare to come back again." the gander stretched its great wings up and beat them loudly. "yes, yes," it hissed. "that might do," said the dwarfs; "but first we'll have our dinners, for we have been working hard and we're hungry." so, as soon as they had finished eating their porridge they dressed the white gander. ellen put her hat on its head and her shoes on its feet. they tied an apron that had belonged to snowdrop about his neck, and put on a veil that hung down over his beak. then they set him in a chair, and he looked so funny that ellen could hardly help laughing. "now we'll all go back to our work," said the oldest dwarf, "and when those evil ones count that all seven of us have gone they'll soon be here to see what mischief they can do about the house." so the dwarfs all put on their caps, and, shouldering their drills and picks, off they started, leaving the white gander sitting in the chair. as for ellen, she hid in the dresser, keeping the door just a crack open so she could see out. she had only been in there a few minutes when there was a noise at the window and an evil looking dwarf peered in. he peered all about the kitchen and then he cried, "it's all right. they've all gone and left the house to take care of itself. they'll be sorry enough they left it when they come back. quick! in, all of us, and see what mischief we can do." with that he dropped back from the window, and in a minute a great crowd of dwarfs came tumbling in through the door. they were not as large as the good dwarfs, but they looked so spiteful and evil that ellen was frightened and wished she and her white gander were well out of it. "what mischief shall we begin with?" cried one. "let's pull all the pots and pans out of the dresser first," said another, "and see what ones we can break." "yes, yes," cried still others. several of them started over toward the dresser where ellen was hidden, and if they had found her there it would have gone hard with her, but at the same moment one of them cried, "oh, look here! just see this puppet they've dressed up. did they think they could scare us with that? let's tear it to pieces before we do anything else." all the dwarfs rushed pell-mell toward the chair where the gander sat, dressed in ellen's hat and shoes and with a veil over its face. it sat as still as a stone until they were close upon it. then up rose the great white gander with a hiss. it spread its wide strong wings, and before the dwarfs could escape it had brought them down with such a blow that three of the dwarfs were knocked head over heels. the rest cried out in terror at the sight, and hastened towards the door, but the goose was after them. [illustration] it beat and buffeted them with its wings and hissed so piercingly in their ears that they did not know what was after them. out through the door they went and away over stump and through brier with the great white gander after them. the forest re-echoed with their harsh cries of fear. the good dwarfs heard it, and came hastening home to learn how ellen's plot had succeeded. just after they came in, back came the gander, and if ever a bird laughed it was laughing then. "mistress, did i not beat them well?" "you did indeed," said ellen, and all the dwarfs agreed with a loud voice. then ellen showed them how to take a pillow and dress it up as the gander had been dressed. they set it in a chair and moved the chair in front of the window, so that when you look at it from the outside it was exactly as though it were the gander itself sitting there. "i think they'll be afraid ever to come near the house again as long as that is there," said ellen. "they will indeed," cried all the dwarfs. then the child again begged them to tell her which way she was to go to find the queerbodies' house. "that's easily told," answered the oldest dwarf. "all you have to do is to watch the leaves and follow the way they turn, and that will soon bring you where you want to go." "how queer!" cried ellen. "with us the leaves turn every which way, as the wind happens to blow." "i don't see much use in that," said the dwarf. "i don't see how you ever find your way through the woods if that's the way they do. come, look here." he led ellen out under the trees in front of the house. there was no breath of air and the leaves all hung motionless. "now take a few steps," said the dwarf. ellen did so and immediately all the leaves stirred and began pointing toward the right, like wise little green fingers. "that's your way," said the dwarf. "only remember and follow the direction they point out and you can't lose it." ellen thanked the kindly dwarfs, and she and her gander started briskly off toward the right. on and on they went, and after a while they passed close to where there was a great heap of rocks; something kept bobbing about back of this heap, now appearing, now disappearing. at first ellen thought it was a big bird, but as she went nearer the gander spoke: "mistress, it's one of those wicked dwarfs." ellen stopped short, feeling rather frightened, but now the dwarf climbed on top of the rock and called to her: "child, child, did you see a little house in the woods as you came along?" "yes, i did," answered ellen. "and did you stop there?" "yes, i did." "and did you see anything of the big doll that beats you with flails?" he meant the gander and its wings. "oh, yes," said ellen; "i saw that too." "and is it still there?" "no, they haven't that one, but they have another doll half as big again. it sits by the window, and if you'll go and look you'll see it there now." "no, no," cried the dwarf. "if that's true we'll never go near the house again," and away he went, hopping over the rocks and disappearing in a big crack, and ellen saw no more of him or his kind. _chapter six_ _the great gray wolf_ on and on went ellen and the gander, following the pointing of the leaves, and all the while the forest kept growing deeper and greener and lonelier. there were no flowers now as there had been at first, but here and there on the trees or ground grew wonderful fungi. some were yellow as gold, some were red as blood, and still others were streaked and spotted as beautifully as sea-shells. the only flowers to be seen were the wax-white "indian-pipes" and there were whole clumps of them. ellen had just stooped to pick some, when suddenly the gander hissed, and at the same moment a harsh voice spoke so close to her ear that it made her start, "good morning!" [illustration] ellen glanced around, and there, standing close to her, was an enormous gray wolf, ragged and scarred. the sound of his paws had been so muffled by the moss that she had not heard him coming. "good morning," answered ellen, her heart beating a little faster at sight of him. "where are you going this pleasant day?" asked the wolf. "i am on my way to the queerbodies' house." "the queerbodies! i never heard of them. are they good to eat?" said the wolf. then he added hastily, "no, no; i don't mean that. i meant are they pleasant, merry people?" "i don't know," answered ellen. "i've never seen them, and i'm not sure whether i can find them at all. but if i mean to get to their house to-day i think i'd better be going; so good-bye," and she began to walk on, for she did not like to be there in that lonely spot with a great gray wolf for company. the wolf, however, trotted along beside her. "not good-bye," he said, "for i have nothing to do just now, so i'll just go with you part of the way for the sake of the walk and the company." ellen said nothing, but quickened her steps, while the gander and the gray wolf kept up with her, the one on one side, the other on the other. presently the wolf began again. "now about those queerbodies, it's curious i never heard of them, for i thought i knew everybody hereabouts: the dwarfs, and little red riding hood, and the three bears, and--" he hesitated for a moment, and then added with a gulp, "and the woodsmen; but no queerbodies that i ever heard tell of." "who lives there?" asked ellen, pointing to a little house she had just caught sight of in a dank and lonely glade. it had occurred to her that she might stop there for a glass of water and so rid herself of the wolf's company. the wolf grinned, as though he guessed her thought. "nobody lives there now. queer looking house isn't it?" ellen thought it was indeed a queer looking house. "why, what is it made of?" she asked. "bread and cake and barley sugar. but wouldn't you like to see it closer? you might eat some of it, too, if you like, for no one ever visits it now except the wind and rain." ellen walked over toward the house, while the wolf stopped a moment to bite out a burr that had stuck between his toes. "i'll be with you in a moment," he called after her. "mistress," said the gander stretching up its neck to whisper in ellen's ear, "that old gray-coat means no good to us." "he frightens me," ellen whispered back, "but what can i do?" "he isn't looking now. let's slip inside the house and lock the door." ellen glanced back over her shoulder. the wolf was still busy over the burr, but it was some distance to the house. "do you think we can get there before him?" she asked. "we can but try." "come, then," and ellen began to run toward the house; while the gander ran beside her, helping himself along with his wings. at the noise they made, the wolf looked up, and then with a howl of rage came tearing after them with long swift bounds. by the time ellen and the gander were on the threshold of the house he was at the foot of the steps, but, turning, the little girl slammed the door and shot the bolt into place. with a howl of rage, the wolf flung himself against it so that it shook again, and ellen and the gander trembled as they stood within; but the good door held, the bolt was true, and the wolf might do his worst; they were safe from him for the time at least. finding that he could do nothing, old gray-coat sat down panting, his fierce eyes fixed upon the house. "wait a bit," he muttered to himself. "you have escaped me this time, but i have as much time to spend as you, and how will it be when you have to come out again?" ellen, who heard this, looked at the gander. "what he says is true," she whispered. "we are safe now, but we can't stay here; and how are we to get away without his catching us?" "let us think about that, perhaps we can contrive some way," the gander made answer. he began to look about. the inside of the house was not built of cake and bread like the outside, but of wood, and the furniture was wooden also. at one end of the room was a great iron cage with a door and a padlock and key to fasten it. the cage was open at the top, but the bars were too high for any one but a monkey to climb out over them. "i believe i know exactly what house this is," ellen cried suddenly. "it's the house where hänsel and gretel came when they were lost in the forest; the house where the wicked witch lived. and this is the cage where she kept hänsel. you know she put him in the cage and shut the door and fastened him in." stooping, she picked up some hard red bits of shell from the floor. "crabs' claws! yes, now i know it's the same. don't you know the story says, 'the best of food was cooked for poor hänsel, but gretel received nothing to eat but crabs' claws.'" the gander walked into the cage and looked it over carefully. "mistress, i believe i can get rid of the wolf," he said. "how is that?" "in this way," and the gander began to tell his scheme, while the little girl listened eagerly. "yes, yes," she cried; "that might do. and i'm to hide in the cupboard while you open the door. yes, and then to slip out and fasten the lock. yes, i'll do it." after they had their plan all arranged ellen did as she said. she tiptoed across the floor and hid herself in the closet. the gander waited until she was safely settled and all was quiet, and then he waddled over to the house door and peeped out through the keyhole. there at the foot of the steps sat the wolf, his red tongue hanging out over his long white teeth, his fierce eyes fixed on the house. suddenly with a rattle and noise the gander unbolted the door and flung it open. like a flash the wolf bounded up and into the house. he gave a glance about him. ellen was not to be seen, because she was hiding in the cupboard, but there was the plump white gander. it had flown away from the door as if in a great fright and into the cage. "just where it is easy to catch you!" cried the wolf, as he bounded into the cage in pursuit of it, every tooth in his head showing. the gander, however, was not to be so easily caught as the wolf had thought. in a moment it spread its wings and flew up over his head, while at the same time ellen slipped out of the cupboard and shut the cage door, turning the key, tick-a-lock. there was the wolf safely fastened behind the iron bars, but the gander flew out over the top of the cage and alighted on the floor at ellen's side. "come, mistress," he said, "the way is clear now, and we can journey on as soon as we choose." [illustration] [illustration] how the wicked old wolf did howl and threaten! but it was no good. ellen and the gander let him make all the noise he chose, but they left him there. all they would do was to promise to send the first woodsman they met in the woods to take charge of the cruel old gray-coat. they had scarcely travelled beyond sound of his howls when they met a huntsman with horn and gun journeying along under the trees. he greeted the two, and would have passed on, but ellen stopped him. "if you please," said she, "there's a wolf fastened in a cage in the little cake house back there. if you live near here would you mind taking care of him and seeing that he gets food and water?" "a wolf!" cried the huntsman. "who caught it?" "this gander and i," and ellen began telling the huntsman all about their meeting it, and what a narrow escape they had had. the huntsman could not wonder enough. "i know that old wolf well enough," he said. "you have had a narrow escape, child. that is the same wolf that came so near to eating up red riding hood." the man then went on to say that he would get some of his fellows and they would bind the wolf and carry him to king thrush-beard, who was making a collection of wild animals. he begged the little girl to come with him as the king would be sure to give a large reward for such a large, fierce beast, but ellen said she had no time. she must hasten on if she wished to reach the queerbodies' house that day. "then at least accept this horn," and the huntsman unslung the one that he carried at his shoulder. "it is all i have to offer you, but it may serve to remind you of your adventure." ellen thought the horn very pretty, and was delighted. she thanked the huntsman, and then, bidding him good-by, she and her gander started forward once more upon their journey. _chapter seven_ _the magic lamp_ "mistress, i think we must be coming to the end of the forest," said the gander. "the trees are not so close together, and i seem to see a light beyond." "i hope we are," answered the little girl. "once we are out from under the trees i can use my wings and then we'll get along faster," the gander added. even sooner than he had thought, they came to the edge of the forest, where the open country began. it seemed very bright after the leafy shade where they had travelled so long. before them was the gentle slope of a hill, and away beyond it stood a castle that shone like gold against the sky. "oh see," cried ellen, "a castle. let's go nearer and look at it." "very well," answered the gander. "seat yourself upon my back and we'll soon be there." as the little girl was settling herself between his wings they heard a far-off sound of trumpets, and saw a number of people coming out of the castle. even at that distance she could tell by the way the sunlight glittered on their clothing that they must be very magnificently dressed. there were horses, too, with nodding plumes. they all seemed to be forming in a procession, and then with another sound of trumpets they began to move away in an opposite direction. "oh hurry," cried ellen, almost falling off the gander in her eagerness. "it must be a parade." the gander spread his wings and flew as fast as he could, but when he reached the castle the procession had disappeared. no one was to be seen but two slavesstanding at the foot of the steps before the door. they were very magnificent, being dressed all in cloth of gold, and wearing about their necks collars of diamonds and rubies. [illustration] "was that a parade that just went away?" asked ellen, as the gander alighted softly upon the palace steps. the slaves seemed struck with terror and amazement at her sudden appearance. they threw themselves down before her hiding their eyes. "do not harm us," they cried. "we are only poor slaves." "why i'm not going to hurt you," said ellen. "i couldn't, anyway. i'm only a little girl." "but surely you must be a magician to ride through the air in this way," and one of the slaves raised his head a little. ellen felt like laughing. "no, i'm not anything but a child, and this is mother goose's gander." the slaves now rose from the ground with a relieved look, "and you are really not a magician?" "no, of course not. but what was all that we saw? we thought it was a parade." "it was our master aladdin with his slaves and guards riding away to pay a visit to his father-in-law, the sultan." "_aladdin!_ do you mean the aladdin who has the wonderful lamp?" "even the same." "oh, i do wish i could see the lamp," and the child clasped her hands in her eagerness. "i never believed it was true before. don't you think he would let me look at it?" "he is away now, as we have just told you." "but couldn't you let me see it? i've always wondered what it looked like, and thought what i'd wish for, if i had it." the slaves looked at her suspiciously and began to whisper together. then one of them turned to her again and spoke, "i cannot promise," he said, "but if you will be pleased to follow me it may be that the soldiers will allow you to see the lamp." the gander plucked at ellens sleeve. "mistress, mistress, do not follow him," he whispered. "i don't know why, but i fear danger." ellen, however, was too eager to heed what the gander said. it was too wonderful a chance to lose; the chance of really seeing--perhaps even handling--the lamp of aladdin. so she drew her sleeve away, and as the slaves led the way she followed them into a great hallway all of gold, set with patterns of rubies and emeralds. the hall was empty with no one in sight except themselves, though ellen could hear a distant sound of music and singing from some other part of the castle. along the hall they went, and up a flight of golden steps. after this there was another hall and more stairs and winding ways, until ellen felt completely lost. at last they came to a barred and bolted door before which stood two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands. as they saw ellen and the gander coming up the hall they crossed their swords before the door. "who are these whom you have dared to bring hither?" they cried to the slaves. the slaves made a deep reverence. "if you please," answered one of them, "it is one who says she is a child, and who comes begging to see the lamp of aladdin." ellen began to feel somewhat timid, the soldiers looked at her so frowningly and suspiciously. "if you don't mind," she began, "i thought i would like to see it, but if it's too much trouble, of course it doesn't matter." the foremost slave advanced with great respect and began whispering to the soldiers. they frowned more and more heavily as they listened. at last as the slave finished whispering they lowered their swords. "very well," said one of them to ellen, "you shall see the lamp." he made a motion and the slaves sprang forward and unbolted and unbarred the door. at a gesture from the soldier ellen stepped inside. on the instant, and before the gander had time to follow her in, the door was shut behind her with a crash, and she heard the bolts and bars falling into place. with a sudden fear she turned and tried to open the door. it was fast. they had made her a prisoner. "let me out! let me out!" she called, but there was no answer. "it's nothing but a fairy tale," whispered the child to herself. "nothing but a fairy tale, so of course they can't hurt me, but i wish my gander was in here, too. i wonder why they shut the door, anyway. they said i might come in." then a sudden suspicion struck her. "i wonder if they thought i had come here to steal the lamp?" breathing rather fast, she turned and looked about her. the room where she stood was very large and high. like the halls it was made entirely of gold, and the walls were polished until it seemed as though they must be too slippery for even a fly to crawl upon them. there was no door except the one by which she had come in, and though there were two windows they were very narrow, and set so high in the wall that it would have needed a long ladder to climb up to them. ellen walked all around the room. there seemed no possible way of getting out. half way up one of the walls and far out of reach was a little shelf set with rubies and diamonds and other precious stones, and upon this shelf stood a battered, rusty old lamp. as ellen's eyes fell upon it she felt sure it must be the magic lamp. suddenly she was startled by something coming against the opening of one of the windows and darkening it. there was a sound of brushing and rustling, and her gander flew down beside her. "here i am, mistress," he said. "oh dear, gander," cried ellen, "i'm so glad you've come! why did they shut the door?" "well, from the talk i heard around me, they were afraid you wanted to steal that lamp up there on the shelf and run away with it, and that's why they locked you in here. i don't see why any one should want to steal that lamp though. why it's not even gold,--nothing but copper." "no, but then i think it must be aladdin's magic lamp," ellen explained. she found that the gander had never even heard of the lamp and the genie, so she told him all about it. she told him of its being a magic lamp, and of how, if any one rubbed it a great genie would appear who would do whatever he was told to do by the one who held the lamp. "well!" said the gander, drawing a long breath as she finished. "no wonder they thought you wanted to steal it, if it's like that. why it's as good as a wishing stone." "but of course i didn't want to take it," cried ellen indignantly. "why didn't they ask me, and i'd have told them i didn't." "well, the great thing now is how are you to get out?" said the gander. "why don't you take me up on your wings and fly out of the window?" the gander looked up doubtfully at the narrow slit where he had just come in. "i'm afraid i can't. that window was a tight fit even for me, and i never could get you through." "then what _am_ i to do?" the gander thought for awhile. "did you say that if you held that lamp and rubbed it a genie would come?" "yes, i suppose he would." "and he would do whatever you bade him?" "yes." "then the thing for you to do is to rub the lamp and when the genie comes to tell him to set you free." ellen felt frightened at the idea of calling up a great black genie. "but i couldn't reach the lamp away up there, even if i wanted to," she said. "no trouble about that," and the gander spread his wings, "i can help you there." so saying, he flew up to where the shelf was. as he reached it he struck at the lamp with his wing, but he missed it; again he tried, and this time he just grazed it with his feathers; a third time and then he struck it fairly and the lamp fell clattering and rattling and rolled across the golden floor to ellen's feet. trembling, the little girl picked it up. "rub it; rub it, mistress," said the gander. "i hear the soldiers coming." but ellen hesitated. "i'm afraid," she cried. "quick," and the gander flapped his wings in his excitement. "if they catch you again you may never get away." then ellen brushed her thumb across the side of the lamp. [illustration] immediately, and with a sound like a thunder-clap a terrible black genie appeared before her. "what wouldst thou have?" he cried in a great voice. "i am ready to obey thee as thy slave and the slave of all those who have the lamp in their hands." the little girl was so frightened at the sight of this terrible being she had called up that she stood there unable to move. "speak, mistress!" cried the gander, "for here come the soldiers." and indeed at that moment the door was thrown open and the soldiers burst into the room. they had heard the noise of the genie's coming and were afraid ellen was getting away. but as they saw a terrible black being crouching there before the little girl, they shrank back in terror. the next instant, however, one of the boldest of them sprang forward to tear the lamp from ellen's hands. at that she found her voice. "i wish," she cried, "to be in a place of safety with my gander." immediately, before she could catch her breath, she found herself being whisked through the air by the genie. then before she could catch her breath she was set gently upon the ground. when she could look about her she saw that she and the gander were standing on a grassy plain some distance from the castle. she still held the lamp in her hands, and the genie was still with her. "hast thou any further commands?" asked he, in his terrible voice. "no," answered ellen, trembling violently. "then i will go," said the genie, and he began to fade away. "oh, wait a minute," the child called after him. "what shall i do with the lamp?" "wouldst thou not wish to keep it?" "why no, it isn't mine." "shall i return it to the castle?" "oh no, mistress," the gander interrupted, "they might rub it and tell the genie to bring us back and keep us prisoners." "then destroy it," the genie suggested. "but what would become of aladdin and his castle and everything if i did?" "they would stay as they are. and moreover if the lamp were destroyed he would no longer be tormented with fears lest an enemy should steal it and send me to destroy all he has." "very well," said ellen, "i'll do it. but i can't break the lamp. how _can_ i destroy it?" "i will cause the earth to open,--to open down to the great fires below. then throw the lamp in and the flames will destroy it." "very well," said the little girl. the genie struck his foot upon the ground and muttered some magic words. immediately the ground was rent open, and down in this chasm could be heard the roaring of the under fires. "make haste," he cried. "cast the lamp into the flames or they will devour thee." hardly knowing what she did ellen threw the lamp from her down into the fiery chasm. immediately there was a loud roaring like thunder. the earth and sky seemed to shake and the castle to tremble from its foundation to its highest turret. a mist came before ellen's eyes. when it cleared away all was still. the chasm had closed and the distant castle was still in its place. the gander, which had crouched down in its terror with its head and neck stretched along the ground, arose slowly and looked about it. the genie had become as thin as smoke, but he was standing there dark and gigantic as before. "i am free! i am free!" he cried in a joyful voice. "at last i may come and go as i choose, no longer a slave of the lamp. it is you, child, who have freed me, and i am not ungrateful, as you shall soon see. if i have made aladdin rich and powerful, i will make you ten times more so. you shall have a castle even more magnificent than his with slaves and treasures and horses and chariots." ellen gasped. "oh no," she said, "i don't think i want all that. i have to go home pretty soon, and i don't believe i'd like to have to live in a castle." "but you could still go home," said the genie. "you could go home in such magnificence as you never dreamed of, with outriders and trumpeters and dressed in cloth of gold and precious stones." but the thought of such magnificence frightened ellen. "no, no," she repeated. "i'm afraid my mother wouldn't like it." the genie looked disappointed. "well," he said, "of course, it's just as you like." he was still fading away and growing more mistlike. "i wish," ellen exclaimed, "that aladdin knew what had become of the lamp." "thy wish shall be granted," answered the genie. "i will myself tell him that it has been destroyed. and now farewell, and remember if thou shouldst ever wish to have that castle thou needst only clap thy hands three times and call upon the genie of the lamp to fulfil his promise and it shall be thine." the genie had grown so transparent now that it was only by straining her eyes that ellen could still see his shape as one sees an empty glass. then he was gone entirely. "thank you very much," she called after him. she waited a moment and as there was no answer she called again, "thank you!" then she turned to the gander. "i think he's gone," she said, adding in a whisper, "and i'm glad he has, because he _did_ frighten me a little, he was so very big and black." the gander made no answer except to ask ellen if she were ready to go. he seemed anxious for them to be on their way once more, so the little girl mounted on his back and they were soon flying swiftly along. "i hope," said ellen after a silence, "that aladdin won't mind about the lamp being burned up." "i should think he would be glad," replied the gander. "he must have been terribly afraid all the time that enemies would get it and make the genie destroy him and his castle." "yes, that is true," said ellen; then she added after another silence, "and how glad that poor genie was that i had set him free at last." _chapter eight_ _bluebeard's house_ "mistress, do you see that gray mist before us?" said the gander. "i think we have reached the border of the fairy tale country, and beyond that mist lies the country of the queerbodies." ellen drew rein, and the gander allowed himself to sink slowly to the ground. there he folded and settled his wings, and he and his mistress stood looking at the wall of mist before them. it was like the mist that hangs over streams in the early morning. they could not tell at all how high it was. sometimes it looked quite low, and sometimes it seemed to reach up to the sky itself so that they could not tell where one ended and the other began. "look," cried ellen in a whisper. "do you suppose that is one of the queerbodies?" a gigantic shadow had appeared upon the wall of mist. it moved with such tremendous strides that it was out of sight in a moment. and now they saw other shadows. some seemed to be bending over and taking up handfuls of earth and examining them as if in search of something. others seemed to reach up as if after invisible fruit. some were talking and nodding together, and every now and then one would turn and hurry away, as if suddenly remembering some business. they were not all as big as the first shadow, though some of them stretched up so high that their heads and shoulders were lost in the grayness of the sky. "they must be the queerbodies," said the gander in a low tone, "for i'm sure they're not fairy tales." "but they look so big,--like giants. do you think they'll hurt us? just suppose they were wicked giants who ate children like so many radishes." ellen had read some place in a fairy story of giants who did that. "maybe we'd better stop and ask some place," suggested the gander. "if they ate children i'm sure they'd eat ganders too, for some people who don't eat children at all eat ganders." then ellen looked about and saw that not far away stood a very large, fine house. it was not by any means as magnificent as aladdin's, but still it was very handsome. "let us ask at that house," said ellen. "they live so close to the mist that i'm sure they must know what goes on beyond, even if they have never been there." the gander was more than willing for this; so he took ellen up and flew with her to the house. there she alighted and mounted the steps, but the door was so very grand and tall that she could not reach the knocker, and had to knock with her knuckles. there was a moment's silence, and then a voice within called, "sister anne, sister anne, did you hear anything?" another voice answered, "i heard the brushing of the vine leaves against the lattice, but i heard nothing else." "your knuckles are too soft, mistress," said the gander; "let me knock," and with his bill he struck against the door. again the same voice within called, "sister anne, sister anne, do you hear nothing now?" and the second voice answered, "i hear a woodpecker tapping upon a branch outside, but that is all." "mistress, it is no use," said the gander, "you will have to climb upon my back so as to reach the knocker, or they will never hear us." so ellen climbed upon the gander's back and then she found she could just reach the knocker. rap, rap, rap! she struck upon the door. "sister anne, sister anne, do you still hear nothing?" cried the first voice. [illustration] "yes, now i hear some one knocking upon the door." in a moment the door opened and a lady stood in the doorway gazing with wonder at the child and the gander. "what is it, sister? who is there?" called the first voice impatiently. "it's a child," answered the lady in the doorway. "a real child it looks like." almost instantly another lady came hurrying down the hall and joined the one at the door. she was more beautiful than the first, but her face had a scared look as though she had once had such a fright that she had never gotten over it. "why, yes, it is a real child," she cried. "you are a real child, aren't you? where did you come from, and where are you going? is that your gander? what are you going to do with it?" there were so many questions that ellen hardly knew which to answer first, but she began, "i came through the nursery wall, and i'm trying to find the queerbodies' house, and this is mother goose's gander. she just lent it to me for awhile." "going to the queerbodies' house!" the beautiful lady glanced at her sister. then she took ellen by the hand and drew her gently in. "come in and tell me all about it." "i think i must hurry on," said ellen. "it's been a longer journey than i thought;" but she allowed herself to be drawn in. the room where the strange ladies took her was very magnificently furnished, and there the beautiful one whose name was fatima made her sit in a big armed chair. she offered another chair to the gander and he seated himself in it as gravely as possible, resting his wings on the arms. "and now," cried fatima eagerly, "tell me all about it." so ellen began and told her about her journey, while fatima listened with her chin in her hand, and her eyes never leaving the child's face. sister anne listened too. "but now," ellen ended, "i feel afraid to go any further, for it looks as though there were giants beyond that mist. do you know whether they're cross giants or not?" fatima started up and clasped her hands. "oh if i only knew what they _are_ like," she cried. "i watch from my window and long so to know what they are doing and how they look that sometimes it seems as if i could not bear it. some day i know i shall go through the mist just to find out." "fatima! fatima!" cried sister anne warningly. then she added, turning to ellen, "she's so curious. she always has been so, and that's what all her troubles came from." "oh yes," murmured fatima, dropping back in her chair. "i suppose you know my story? i suppose you've heard of bluebeard, haven't you?" and leaning forward again she looked eagerly at ellen. "oh yes, i have all about him in a book at home. it has colored pictures, and there's a picture of fatima with her hair all down, and one of sister anne up on the tower and the brothers coming in, and ever so many more." "oh yes, i shall never forget that time when my brothers came rushing in. and then that day when i looked in the room and saw all the heads in a row and dropped the key--" fatima shuddered, and hid her face in her hands. "are you really that fatima?" asked ellen. she was afraid it was hardly polite to ask, but she did want so much to know. "yes, she is," sister anne answered for her, for fatima seemed unable to speak. "and i often remind her of all the troubles her curiosity brought on her that time. a little more and her head would have been chopped off; but she doesn't seem to have learned anything. she'd go off to the queerbodies' country now if i'd let her, just so as to see what they're like. then the first thing she knew they'd be making her into another story, and she'd never get back." "yes, i _do_ want to know," cried fatima. she leaned forward, and caught ellen by the wrist so suddenly that it startled her. "couldn't _you_ come back and tell me all about it," she cried. "why i--i don't know whether i come back this way; i hoped there was a shorter way home," and ellen's lip trembled, for she was getting a little tired of her long journeyings in spite of her wish to find the lost story. "then your gander; maybe he could come back." "oh yes," answered the gander, "i'll have to come back this way. but the thing is, do we want to go any further. i didn't like the looks of those giants myself." "oh yes," urged fatima. "i wouldn't be afraid. maybe it's only their shadows that are so big. and then i tell you what; i'll give you something that may help you along. look!" with fingers that trembled with eagerness she drew a key-ring from her pocket and slipped from it a key. the key seemed to be of pure gold, but upon one side of it was a rusty spot. ellen wondered whether it was the key that had unlocked the door of the forbidden chamber. "take this," said fatima. "it is a magic key, and there is never a lock it will not fit nor a catch it will not undo." ellen was slow about taking it. she glanced at the gander. "i don't believe i want to go back, but i don't know." the gander answered her look. "we'll go on then," he said, "and if we have that key they can't keep us locked up, and my wings will be always good to carry us out of trouble." "and you'll bring me back word?" cried fatima. "yes, i will," the gander promised. and now fatima was eager for them to go. it seemed as though she could not wait to have her curiosity satisfied. sister anne would have had them stay and rest awhile and have some refreshment after their long journey, but fatima could not hide her impatience to have them start. and indeed ellen and the gander were in as much haste as she. fatima went with them to the very edge of the wall of mist and the last thing they heard as they plunged into it was her voice calling after them, "don't forget, you are to bring me word, and make haste; make haste." _chapter nine_ _beyond the mist_ "oh how cold and still and gray," cried ellen. they were in the very heart of the mist. she could hear the steady beat of the gander's wings, but the grayness around was so thick that she could see nothing but the dim outline of his neck before her. she would not have known whether they were moving at all if it had not been for the stir of air against her face. "mistress, do you see light before us?" asked the gander. "no, nothing but the grayness." "one might travel around and around in this mist, and yet never find one's way out," said the gander half to itself. on and on it flew. "is there no light before us yet?" it asked again, and its wings seemed to flag. "no, there is nothing." "can you hear any sound?" ellen listened. "nothing but the beating of your wings." "mistress, i no longer know whether i am flying forward or not. for all i can tell i may be going around in a circle." the child looked helplessly about her. "i wonder if i were to blow upon the horn the huntsman gave me whether some one would hear and answer?" she suggested. "you might try it." ellen raised the horn to her lips and blew. they both listened, but there was no reply. again she blew. still silence. the third time she drew a deep breath and blew with all her might. the gander stayed his flight to listen, and now, away toward the right hand, there sounded a faint halloo. the gander turned and flew in that direction, and they had gone but a little way when the grayness before them grew lighter. another moment or so, and they were through the mists and out upon the other side. [illustration] but ellen looked about her in dismay. they were in the midst of a great barren desert. there was no tree nor house in sight, no bird nor living thing. yes, there was one thing alive, for just as ellen thought this, something stirred and stood up from a heap of rocks nearby. it was a lad of about twelve or thirteen. at first ellen thought it was the son of the gardener they had at home; it certainly looked like him. the little girl was very fond of this lad, though people used to say he was queer and not quite right in his mind. he often made up stories and told them to her. she never had felt as glad to see him, though, as she felt then. when she went closer, however, the lad did not seem to know her, so she wondered whether it was the gardener's son after all. it certainly looked like him. "was that you blowing a horn?" asked the lad. "yes; we were lost in the mist and wanted to get out, but we wanted to get out on the side where the queerbodies live." "well, this is it." ellen looked about her. "but where are they? i saw their shadows on the mist." the lad laughed. "oh that's nothing. why, i used to see their shadows against the sky even when i was at home, but you'll have to travel far from here before you find them. i suppose you have a compass." "no. what for?" "to find your way across the desert. now i have a compass all right, but i'm so tired i can't go a step further." the lad paused and looked at the gander. "i don't suppose your gander could carry double?" "no, i couldn't," answered the gander. "well, i didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for i could have told you how to go. if i only had brought anything to begin with i'd make something to ride on; but i didn't know the journey would be so long and weary." "do you mean," said ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with you could _really_ make something to ride on?" "oh yes. almost everybody, before they start out for the queerbodies', learns to make something out of nothing; but i was in such a hurry to start i only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble now." "haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked ellen, for the lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he moved. "nothing that would do. it must be something that was once alive. now you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of wood?" "no. that is, nothing but a little wooden pig, and it was never alive." "no, but the wood was when it was growing. will you let me see it?" as ellen drew the toy from her pocket the boy took it from her eagerly. his eyes sparkled. "the very thing!" he cried. "i can make a magnificent riding-horse out of this." holding the pig to his mouth, the boy began to whisper magic in its wooden ear. as he did so the pig began to grow. it grew and it grew, while ellen stared in wonder. when it was too large for the boy to hold in his hands he set it down on the ground. still he kept whispering in its ear and the pig kept on growing, until at last it was as large as a pony. when it was that big the lad stopped. "there!" he said to ellen, looking at the pig with pride, "how is that for a riding-horse?" [illustration] "i think it's fine, but i shouldn't call it a riding-_horse_; i think it's more of a riding-_pig_." "all the same," said the lad. "now the next thing is a bridle. when a magic pig like this once does start going it won't stop for a word. i suppose you haven't anything about you that would serve for a bridle." "nothing but this," and ellen touched the golden chain that the dwarfs had hung about her neck. "that will do," cried the boy; "give it here." he seemed to feel so sure that ellen would lend him the chain that she did not know how to say no, so she took it off and handed it to him. the lad quickly arranged it as a bridle, and then before he mounted the pig he took out his compass and made sure of the direction in which they were to go. "and now i'm ready," he cried; "follow me." with that he leaped on the pig's back, and no sooner had he touched it than away it went like the wind. its blue legs with the pink spots twinkled along so fast that it took all the gander knew to keep up with them. on and on they went; the wind whistled past ellen's ears, and the ground sped away beneath so fast that she grew almost dizzy. the lad, however, did not seem to mind how fast they went. now and then he settled himself more comfortably on the pig's back, and now and then he took out his compass and looked at it to make sure they were going in the right direction. after they had gone a long distance in this way he drew rein. "there!" he said, "the desert is passed; but there is a greater danger than it to come." "what is that?" "look!" and the lad pointed. ellen looked, and then she saw that what she had thought was a stretch of grass and rocks before them, was really an enormous green and gray dragon that lay stretched in a rocky defile. his neck and tail were coiled upon the ground; his wings stretched up the rocky walls on each side of him, and their tips were like tall green trees against the sky. presently he turned his head and ellen could see his big blinking eyes, each as big as a barrel. he yawned and his mouth was like a red cavern. ellen was frightened. "suppose he comes at us," she whispered. [illustration] "oh no, he won't pay any attention to us," the lad assured her. "that is, unless we try to go past him, and then he'd snap us up in a twinkling." "couldn't we go round?" "no, this is the only way, right between these rocks." "i could fly over," said the gander boldly. the lad laughed. "fly over! why look at his wings. he'd catch you in a minute. have you ever seen a bird after a little butterfly? that's the way he'd catch you if you tried any such tricks as that." "then what _are_ we to do?" asked ellen. "wait," answered the lad. "they'll come to feed him after a while; maybe in a week or so; and after he's been fed he always sleeps for ten minutes; then we can safely go past, for nothing will waken him for those ten minutes. you might hit him on the head with an axe and he wouldn't stir." "a week or so!" cried ellen in dismay. "why i can't wait a week or so, i have to be home this evening before dark." "well, i don't see what we can do unless you have something to feed him with." "i have a golden egg. that's all." "a golden egg!" cried the lad joyfully. "why didn't you say so before? why, it's just the thing. give it to me." he took the egg from ellen and slowly rode over toward the dragon. the great creature watched him with its blinking eyes, and when the lad seemed to be coming too near it raised its head and hissed warningly. ellen trembled, the sound was so loud and terrible, as though a dozen engines were letting off steam all at once. the lad, however, did not seem at all frightened. he checked the pig and motioned to the dragon to open its mouth. ellen had seen people motion to the elephant at the zoo in that same way when they wanted it to lift up its trunk, and open its mouth to have peanuts thrown in. the dragon seemed to understand, for after the boy had motioned once or twice it opened its great jaws. then the lad threw the golden egg in, and it seemed just as small a thing for the dragon as a peanut or a currant would to an elephant. the dragon waited a while with its mouth still open for the boy to throw some more in. as he did not do this, however, it closed its mouth and began to chew the golden egg. it chewed, and it chewed, and it chewed, and all the while it chewed it seemed to be growing sleepier and sleepier. at last it swallowed the egg, and then its eyes shut tight and it went fast asleep. the boy turned and beckoned to ellen. "come on," he shouted at the top of his lungs. "oh don't talk so loud," ellen whispered, coming up to him as fast as she could. "you might waken him." the lad burst into a shout of laughter that made the little girl tremble. "not i," he cried. "he'll sleep for nine minutes yet. one minute has gone already." "then let's hurry." the gander flew up and on, and the boy was not slow to follow, riding his blue and pink pig right over the dragon. ellen was in terror lest it should waken in spite of what the boy had said, but he did not seem in the least afraid. he even seemed to take pleasure in making the pig trot the full length of the dragon's tail just as children take pleasure in walking along a railroad track. at last they were safely over, and ellen drew a sigh of relief. on and on they went, and instead of the rocky walls on either side of them growing lower they grew higher and higher, arching over more and more until at last they met and made a sort of gallery. there was very little light here, and when at last the pig stopped and the gander settled to the ground ellen had to look twice before she saw that they were in front of a heavily barred door. "where are we now?" she asked. the eyes of the boy were flashing with eagerness. "it is the door of the queerbodies' house," he cried. he sprang from the pig, and, taking hold of the handle, he tried to open it. "locked!" he added. slipping his hand into his pocket he drew from it a whole handful of keys. then ellen knew that they were what had jingled every time he moved. he began to try one key after another, but none of them seemed to fit. as he was busy in this way a curious roar sounded through the gallery, echoing and re-echoing from the rocky walls. "what's that?" cried ellen. "oh, only the dragon yawning. he must have wakened up," answered the lad coolly, still busy with his keys. "but won't he follow us?" "no; he only guards the entrance to the defile." finding that none of the keys he first held would open the lock the lad had drawn out another handful; but these were no better than the others. one after another he tried all that he had, but not any would unlock the door. having tried the last of all, the boy threw it down and sank upon the floor in despair. "it is no good," he cried. "it is just as i feared. and yet i've been collecting those keys for the last seven months." "can't you unlock it?" "no." "then what are you going to do?" "i don't know. i didn't mind the desert or the dragon, but this was what i was afraid of all along." "mistress," said the gander, "where is the key that the lady fatima gave you? if what she said was true, it should unlock the door." "oh yes!" cried ellen. "i forgot it." with eager fingers she took the key from her pocket and pressed it into the lad's hand. "try this," she said. very hopelessly the boy arose and put the key to the lock. his face changed as he found it seemed to go in it easily. he turned the key, the lock slipped back, the door opened, and ellen, following close at his heels, entered at last the house of the queerbodies. _chapter ten_ _in the house of the queerbodies_ ellen and her companions were standing in a circular golden hall. all around the hall were arched doorways, and overhead, supported by golden pillars, was a blue dome studded with jewels that shone like stars. there were no windows to be seen, but all the hall was filled with a clear and pleasant light that seemed to come from the dome. as ellen looked wonderingly about, she heard a tapping sound behind her, and turning saw a tall man oddly dressed in green and yellow, and holding in his hand an ivory rod tipped with gold. it was this rod that she had heard as it tapped on the floor. [illustration] the man stood looking at her and her friends in silence for a few moments. then he said, "now how did you all get in here i should like to know; i have not opened the door to any one this morning." "i had a key," answered ellen, "and it fitted the door, so this lad unlocked it. we didn't know there was any one here to open it for us." "yes, i am the keeper of the gate, but i don't open for every one that knocks. but how did you find your way to the door, in the first place?" "i came on this gander; it's mother goose's gander, you know." "oh, then, that is all right. but how about this lad? did he come on the gander too?" "no, i came on the pig," answered the boy, speaking for himself. "i don't know that pig. where did you get it?" the lad told him. the gate-keeper shook his head. "it isn't really your pig, you know. you ought to have made it out of nothing. but did you come across the desert?" "yes." "and you passed the dragon?" "yes." "and unlocked the door! well, i suppose it's all right. and what do you want to set about, now that you are here?" "i should like to try my hand at fitting a puzzle together," answered the lad boldly. ellen stared. she had never heard anything so curious; for the lad to have come all that way and through all those dangers, and then want to play with a puzzle the first thing. the gate-keeper, however, did not seem at all surprised. he walked over to one of the golden pillars and took a key from the bunch at his side. and now ellen noticed that in each of the pillars was a narrow door. the gate-keeper unlocked the one in front of which he stood, and when he opened it the little girl could see that the pillar was hollow and fitted with shelves just like a closet. from a shelf the man took a box of puzzle blocks and put it in the lad's hand. "that's your room in there," he said, pointing to one of the arched doorways. the lad took the puzzle, and hastened away with such eager joy that he seemed to have quite forgotten ellen and everything, even the magic pig that followed close at his heels. the little girl looked after him. "i should think if he just wanted a puzzle he could have gotten one at home," she said. "not such puzzles as these," answered the man. "did you ever see a queerbodies' puzzle when it was finished?" "i don't think i did." "then come here, and i'll show you some." the man led ellen over to a large case and opening the lid he bade her look in. there, all placed in rows, were countless boxes of puzzles,--puzzles that were finished. as ellen looked she gave a little cry of astonishment and delight. the pictures she saw were just such as one might see upon any puzzle blocks,--pictures of children swinging in a garden, of a farm-yard scene, or a child's birthday party. the difference was that all of these were alive. the swing really swung up and down; the trees and flowers stirred their leaves; the tiny cows switched their tails to scare away flies too small for ellen to see, and a cock upon the fence swelled his neck and crowed. the children at the party looked at the gifts and then began to play. ellen even fancied that she could hear their voices very tiny and clear as they laughed and talked together. "do you have puzzles like that at home?" asked the keeper of the gate. "oh no," cried ellen. she drew a long breath as the man closed the case. "can everybody that comes here make puzzles like those?" "no, indeed. sometimes even when they get the puzzles finished they don't come alive, and then they're good for nothing but to be thrown away. do you see all these doorways?" "yes." "well, there are people in all those rooms, and in every room they're doing something different." "what are some of the things they do?" "over there," and the man pointed to one of the doorways, "they're making garments out of thin air; in the room next to that they're stringing stars." "stringing stars?" "yes. they fish for them with nets from the windows and then string them for crowns and necklaces. it's very pretty to see. then there's a whole room where they do nothing but make forgotten stories over into new ones." "oh! oh!" cried ellen, clasping her hands. "that's what i came for. i came to look for a forgotten story. _do_ you suppose it's there?" "why, i don't know. i shouldn't wonder. but do you want to make it over?" "no, i want to find it the way it is. my grandmamma used to know it, but she's forgotten it now, so i want to find it, so as to tell her about it." "well, i don't know," said the man doubtfully. "we might go and ask about it. i don't know very much about the different rooms myself, but come and we'll see." the room of the forgotten stories, to which the gate-keeper now led ellen was very large. so large that when the little girl stood in the doorway and looked about her she could hardly see where it ended. upon the floor in rows stood countless golden jars. among these rows figures were moving about or pausing at different jars to take something from them. they all seemed very busy, though ellen could not make out what they were doing at first. quite near the door a girl or a woman was standing; ellen could not tell which she was. she looked like a woman, but her hair hung down her back in a heavy plait. she wore some sort of loose brown garments. her hands were clasped before her and she seemed to be thinking deeply; so deeply that she did not notice the gate-keeper nor ellen nor the gander as they stood looking at her. suddenly she began to smile to herself, and, bending over one of the jars, she thrust her hand into it and brought it forth filled with some substance like wet clay, only much more beautiful than clay, for it glistened and shone between her fingers with all the colors of the rainbow. this she began to pat and mould into shape as she held it, humming softly to herself meanwhile as if from sheer happiness. the gate-keeper waited a few minutes to see whether she would notice him, and then he tapped upon the floor with his ivory staff. the queerbody looked around at the sound. "excuse me," said the man, "but here's a little girl who has just come, and she says she's come to look for a forgotten story; can you tell her anything about it?" the queerbody gazed earnestly at ellen. "a forgotten story!" she repeated slowly. "this is the place to come for forgotten stories, but it may be that it has been made into something else. how long is it since it was forgotten,--this story that you want?" ellen told her a long time; ever since her grandmother was a little girl. the queerbody shook her head. "i'm afraid it may have been made over," she said; "but there's no telling. there are some stories that have been here for many, many years; this one i was just beginning to use, for instance," and she held out her hands full of the shimmering stuff for ellen to see. "why, is that a forgotten story?" asked ellen. "i didn't know stories ever looked like that." "this is only part of a story. when a story has been forgotten it is all divided up and put into different jars. wondercluff we call it then. when we make a new story we take a handful from this and a handful from that, and when it's done you'd never know it was just old things pieced together. but what did your forgotten story look like? can you tell me anything about it?" ellen could not tell her very much. "it was about a little princess called goldenhair, and she had a wicked stepmother. the stepmother made her wear a sooty hood, but the fairies helped the princess. then one time goldenhair was combing her hair in the scullery and the stepmother came in and made her cut all her hair off; and i don't know the rest." the queerbody began to laugh. she held out the handful of wondercluff toward ellen. "why this is a part of that very story," she cried, "and you came just in time. a little later and it would have been made into something else. wait a bit. see if i can't put it together." she reached down into other jars, and took out handful after handful of different wondercluff. heaping it on a marble table she began to pat and mould it, working deftly with her slim long fingers. and as she worked, beneath her hands a figure began to grow. ellen watched, as if fascinated. first the head with a golden crown. "it must have a crown because the story's about a princess and royal folk," the queerbody explained. next appeared the body in a long flowing robe fastened by an embroidered girdle. then beautiful white hands and arms. at last it was all done but the feet. with her eyes fixed lovingly upon the figure she had made, the queerbody reached down into a jar that she had not touched before. suddenly her look changed. the smile faded from her face and she turned her eyes on ellen. "oh, i forgot," she said in a low, sad voice. she drew her hand from the jar. there was nothing in it. "what did you forget?" asked the little girl. "i forgot the castle. i can't finish the story after all." "but why not? she's all done but her feet. i should think you could easily do those." "no, you see they have to be made of castle wondercluff. there was a castle in the story, and i haven't used any of that yet." "what _do_ you mean?" "you see, when a story is broken to pieces all the parts of it are put in different jars, as i told you. all the king wondercluff in a jar, and birds in another jar, magic in another, witches in another, and so on. all the castles were put in this jar, and now i remember another queerbody was making a story this morning and she used the last piece of castle there was. look for yourself. the jar is empty." ellen looked in the jar. there was nothing there. "can't you use something else?" "of course not." the queerbody spoke with some impatience. "don't you remember the story begins with a castle where the princess lives?" suddenly, like a flash, ellen remembered the genie and his promise. at the same moment the gander plucked at her sleeve. "mistress, the castle you were promised," he whispered. there was no need of his reminding her. "if i were to get a castle for you could you finish the story?" she asked the queerbody hesitatingly. "yes, but where could you get a castle, you little girl?" "i think i can get one." ellen looked about. "we'd better go out in the hall," she whispered. she was afraid if she summoned the genie in there it would frighten the busy people around her. she led the way back into the silent, empty hall while the gatekeeper and the queerbody followed her wondering. ellen walked on until she stood under the centre of the dome. then she stopped and looked at the others. "you needn't be afraid," she said, "he won't hurt you;" but she herself felt a little nervous at the idea of calling up the genie again. however, she drew a long breath, and then, clapping her hands three times, she summoned him to appear. there was a loud noise as of thunder that made the gander cower behind ellen, while the gatekeeper and the queerbody trembled and turned pale. immediately the genie appeared, more gigantic and terrible-looking than ever. "thou hast called me, and i am here at thy command," he said to ellen. "wilt thou now have the castle, the treasures, the slaves and horsemen that i promised thee?" "not the treasures and all that," answered ellen, and her voice sounded very little and soft after the genie's, "but i should like the castle now if i may have it?" "it shall be thine. and where wilt thou have it?" "i'd like it in a golden jar over in that room," said ellen, pointing over to the forgotten story room. "in a jar!" cried the genie in amaze, and he scowled as though he thought ellen was making fun of him. but when she explained how it was, and why she wanted the castle, he burst into a roar of laughter that echoed and re-echoed against the blue dome. "i have heard of a genie in a bottle, but never of a castle in a jar," he cried. "however, it shall be thine. but hast thou no further wishes?" "no, that's all," said ellen. "then look in the jar and thou wilt find it there. henceforth i appear to thee no more." immediately, and with another crash as of thunder, the genie was resolved into air and disappeared. for a moment the hall seemed clouded with a thin gray vapor and then that too faded away and all was as it had been before. ellen and the others looked at each other while the gander craned its neck this way and that, as if to make sure that the genie had really gone. the queerbody was the first to speak. she drew a long breath. "i shouldn't like to see _him_ again," she said. "but i wonder if he really put the castle there." "i believe he did," said ellen. "let us go and see." the queerbody was all eagerness. they hastened back to the room of the forgotten stories and bent over the castle jar. the queerbody gave a cry of joy. it was half full of glistening wondercluff. reaching down into the jar she brought out great handfuls that shone and glistened. "_now_ i can finish the story," she cried. she began patting and moulding with hands that trembled with eagerness and under her fingers the silvery feet of the fairy tale seemed almost to shape themselves. then suddenly the figure stood complete, a tall and shining lady with a crown upon her head. the eyes, however, were blank and unseeing, and there was no breath to stir the silver robe. "take her hand," the queerbody said to ellen. timidly the little girl took the white hand of the fairy tale in hers. it was very cold, but as she held it, it seemed to grow warm and soft in her fingers. "speak to her," the queerbody now commanded. at first ellen could not think of what to say. then, "are you,--are you the forgotten story i came to find?" she whispered. slowly the color flushed into the fairy tale's face; the life came into her eyes. slowly very slowly she turned her head and looked down into ellen's eager face. "am i that story?" she murmured. "look in my eyes and see." [illustration] she bent toward the child, and ellen looked into her eyes. such wonderful eyes they were. as she looked, ellen seemed to lose herself in their clear depths. she lost all sense of where she was--even of the lady herself. she never could tell afterward whether the lady spoke and told her the story, or whether she saw it mirrored in those eyes, or whether she was herself the little princess goldenhair living it all, but this was the fairy tale. _chapter eleven_ _the princess goldenhair_ there were once a king and queen who had no children, though they greatly longed for them. one day the queen was sitting at the window sewing, and the sunlight shone upon the golden thimble she wore, so that it fairly dazzled the eyes. "i wish," said the queen, "that i had a little daughter and that her hair was as golden as my thimble in the sun." soon after this a daughter was indeed born to the queen, and the hair upon her head was of pure gold, but in the hour that she was born the queen herself died. as the little princess grew up, her hair was the wonder of all and because it was so beautiful she was always called the princess goldenhair or goldilocks. the king was prouder of his daughter's beauty than of all his treasures, and there was nothing he loved better than to see her unfasten her shining hair and shake it down about her, and then it was so long and bright that it covered her like a golden mantle. but one day the king went hunting, and in the chase he rode so fast that at last he left all his followers behind. he had reached a deep and lonely glade when suddenly his horse reared under him, and there, standing directly in his path was a beautiful woman dressed all in black. her hair, too, was black as a raven's wing and her eyes were strangely bright. she stood looking at the king and she did not speak. the king did not speak either, at first, for there was something in her look that made him ill at ease, even while he wondered at her beauty. "who are you?" he said at last; but she made no answer. then he questioned her whence she came, but she was still silent. but when he asked her if she would go back to the palace with him she nodded her head. so the king took her up before him and rode home with her. after that the stranger lived at the palace. she spoke little and when she did her voice was hoarse and croaking, but she was very beautiful, and the king loved her and made her his queen. there were great rejoicings over the marriage; but goldenhair wept and wept; she feared the stepmother with her black hair and her bright round eyes. nevertheless at first the new queen was kind enough to the child. but then, little by little, she began to show the hatred she felt toward her. after a while it was nothing but hard words and harder looks. above all, she could not bear the sight of the princess's hair, but shuddered every time she saw it. after a while she had a dark hood made, and she obliged the princess to wear it, so that her hair might be hidden. the child never dared to take off the hood by day, but every evening after the maids had left the scullery she would steal down there with a candle. it was very dark in the scullery, and the mice and beetles scuttled to and fro, but as goldenhair opened the door she would say, "_nimble mice that fear the light, small, black beetles of the night, shadows lurking here and there, i pray you fright not goldenhair._" then the mice and the beetles would noiselessly disappear in the cracks; the shadows would shrink into corners, and entering, goldenhair would take off her hood, and shake down her hair to comb and brush its shining lengths. then she would bind it up again and cover it with her hood before she went up into the castle. the stepmother knew nothing of this, but every day she grew bolder in her hate. she took from goldenhair all the beautiful clothes and jewels that her father had had made for her and gave her instead things scarce better than those a kitchen wench might wear. however the princess made no complaint, and the king her father did not even seem to notice it. it was as though the wicked queen had cast a spell over him so that he could see or think of no one but her. one day when goldenhair's heart was very heavy she wandered off by herself into the deep forest that lay all about the palace. she had not gone far when her cloak caught upon a thorn-bush and was torn. when she saw the rent she was frightened, for she knew her cruel stepmother would make it an excuse for punishing her; and at the thought of her helplessness the child threw herself down at the foot of a tree and began to weep. suddenly a voice beside her said, "why do you weep so bitterly, princess?" goldenhair looked up, and there, standing close beside her, was a fairy youth. he was very small, and was dressed all in green and silver. he had a cap upon his head, and about his neck was a chain, from which hung a jewel that sparkled brighter than a diamond. goldenhair gazed at him wonderingly. "i am weeping because i have torn my cloak," she answered, "and i am afraid my stepmother will punish me." and with that she began to sob again. then the fairy felt sorry for her, as he had never felt sorry for any one before. "do not weep," he said, "and i may be able to help you." with that he stepped to a toadstool close by, and, feeling under it, he drew out a toadstool thorn, invisible to mortal eyes. this he threaded with a strand of spider-web silk, and then he placed it in goldenhair's fingers. "draw together the edges of the cloak where it is torn," he said, "and sew it with this." [illustration] the princess looked at her fingers, but she could see nothing. still, she could feel the magic strand. wondering, she drew the edges of the rent together, and began stitching with the invisible needle; and as she stitched, the torn edges twisted and wove together again, so that they became whole as they had been before. when she had finished, the fairy knelt before her and lifted the edge of the cloak. "look," he said; "now no one could know that it had ever been torn." and then immediately he vanished like a breath. goldenhair rubbed her eyes and looked about her. the forest was very still. there was not a living thing to be seen, not even a bird or a squirrel. she lifted her cloak and looked, but she could not see where it had been mended. then suddenly she felt afraid, and, turning, she ran back to the castle as fast as she could. all the rest of the day she thought and thought about the fairy, and wondered whether she had really seen him, but she could scarcely believe it. the next night when it grew dark goldenhair stole down as usual to the scullery to comb her hair. she made sure that no one was there, and then she took off her hood and shook down her locks. when she had done that, they almost covered her with their golden strands. she began to brush and comb them, and as she brushed she sang:-- "_i comb my locks, i comb my locks! my father is a king; my stepmother has hair as black as any raven's wing._ "_i comb my locks, i comb my locks! she bids me bind them tight; she makes me wear a sooty hood to hide them from her sight._ "_i comb my locks, i comb my locks! alas! that only here i dare to lay my hood aside and brush them without fear._" having brushed her hair until it shone, goldenhair bound it up again, and covered its brightness with her hood. she took up her candle and was about to leave the scullery when she heard a sound as of some one sighing sadly. she listened, but all was still. "'twas only the wind that sighed beneath the door," she said to herself, and again she was about to go when she heard the sighing once more, and this time she knew that it was not the wind. the sound came from the outer door of the scullery, the one that opened into the forest. goldenhair was frightened, but yet she could not think of any one being in distress without longing to help them. she crept over to the door and laid her ear against it. "who is there?" she asked. there was no answer, but she heard some one grieving softly on the other side of the door. then all was still. "who is there?" repeated goldenhair. "if it is some one in trouble, speak." there was no answer, but a sigh so sad that it went to the heart. she hesitated no longer, but opened the door. the draught of wind almost blew out her candle, but she put her hand around it to shelter it, and by its light she saw leaning against the doorway the same fairy she had seen in the forest. the princess looked and wondered. "why are you here?" she asked. "did you come to look for me?" "alas," sighed the fairy, "i would that i had never seen you." "why do you say that?" asked the princess. "because if i had not seen you weeping in the forest i would not have broken the fairy laws, teaching you to mend your cloak with magic such as fairies alone should use. it is for this that sorrow has come upon me and i have been banished from the fairy court. now i must journey out in the huge rough world like an outcast, until i have accomplished the task set me by the fairy queen for a punishment." when goldenhair heard this she was greatly troubled, for she felt that she was indeed the cause of it all. "what is this task they have set you?" she asked in a trembling voice. "it is to weave a net of magic gold; the net in whose meshes alone can be caught a wicked enchantress who has been haunting this forest. for a long time she has been darkening it with her wicked spells and now upon me has fallen the heavy task of ridding the forest of her." "but is this magic gold so hard to find? you are a fairy and surely you should know where to seek it." "_though i am as old as the oldest tree such gold i never yet did see._ only this much i know for this the queen told me; it is gold-- _that lives and yet is not alive; that comes neither from earth nor water; softer than silk and harder to weld than steel._" "_gold that lives and yet is not alive; that comes neither from earth nor water; softer than silk but harder to weld than steel_" the princess murmured softly to herself. then suddenly she gave a cry of joy. setting down the candle, she slipped off her hood and shook down her hair, so that it fell all about her, glittering in the candle-light. "is not this the magic gold?" she cried. "see! it lives and yet it is not alive. it comes neither from the earth nor from the water, and it is softer than silk and yet all the hammers in the world could not weld one strand of it." the fairy cried aloud in his wonder and admiration. "it is indeed the magic gold." "then take it,--take it and weave your net," cried goldenhair. with hands that trembled with eagerness she drew from her pocket a pair of golden scissors that had been her mother's. with these she clipped strand after strand of the shiny locks, and they fell at the fairy's feet; they lay there in a shining heap. "enough! enough!" he cried. "then, quick," said the princess, "let us begin to knot them into a net." "no need of that," answered the fairy. "there is a quicker way than that." drawing his fairy sword from its sheath, he struck it lightly upon the shining locks. "_fold on fold, magic gold, into a net be knotted and rolled_," he cried. at his spell the silken locks began to twist themselves; they rolled into strands and knotted together in meshes until they were a golden net. suddenly the princess turned her head and looked behind her. she had heard a sound at the scullery door. the next moment it was thrown open, and there stood the stepmother, peering in with an evil look. behind her was the king. "look," cried the queen, pointing at goldenhair. "is it not just as i told you? the girl knows that i hate the very sight of her hair, and that i gave her a hood to wear that i might not see it; yet at every chance she has she slips away to comb her locks and weave her wicked spells." "do you indeed dare to weave your spells against the queen?" cried the king angrily,--for he was under the enchantment of the wicked queen, and he believed all that she wished him to. goldenhair began to weep. "alas!" she sobbed, "i know no spells, and i thought that if i came here to comb my hair she would never see it." suddenly the stepmother spied the scissors, which goldenhair had let fall upon the floor. stooping, she snatched them up. "since you will heed nothing that i say, there is but one way left; your hair shall be shorn close to your head, even to the last lock." but at this moment the fairy stepped forward from the shadow in which he had been standing. in the dark scullery he seemed to shine with light. "there is no need of that," he cried. "i know you, wicked enchantress; and the net has already been woven that shall break your evil spells." [illustration] the queen gave a hoarse cry and shrank back; but in a moment the fairy had caught up the net from the floor and cast it over her. it was in vain that she struggled; the net only drew closer and closer about her. "why, what is this?" cried the king, but the queen only croaked hoarsely in reply. the fairy drew his sword and pointed it at her. "by the power of the magic net take your true shape, false queen," he cried. and then--it was no longer a woman who struggled in the net, but only a great black raven, with a curving beak and cruel, angry eyes. it struggled there a while, and then flew out into the dark forest, dragging the net with it, and croaking hoarsely as it went. "let her go," said the fairy, "for, whatever becomes of her, her power has now gone forever." suddenly there was a soft strain of music, and the scullery was filled with rosy light. "they are coming, are coming for me," cried the fairy, and his face grew bright with joy. the next moment the fairy queen stood beside him, and with her were a great crowd of attendant fairies. the banished elf sank upon his knee before her, but she raised him graciously. "your task has been well done," she said. "you have freed the forest from the evil magic that has been haunting it, and now you shall return to the fairy court; and not only this, but you shall be my favorite page and follow in my train." once more the fairy knelt before her to kiss her hand. the queen turned to goldenhair. "and you, dear child," she said, "you have suffered so much here,--leave it all. come with us, and with one touch of my wand you shall become a fairy too." but at this the king started forward. with the breaking of the evil spell all his former love for his little daughter had returned. "do not leave me, goldenhair," he cried. "no," said goldenhair to the fairy, "he is my father, and i may not leave him; he would be lonely without me, now that the queen has gone." "then, farewell," cried the fairies. "the forest calls us, and we have already lingered too long. farewell, farewell, goldenhair." so saying, they disappeared, the light and music fading with them. they were never seen in the castle again; but often in the wood the princess would come upon them dancing in their fairy rings, or hear them call to her from flowers or clumps of fern, for they did not hide from her as they do from others. time went on, and many kings and princes sought the hand of goldenhair in marriage; but she would have none of them. at last the old king died, and then suddenly there appeared at the court a tall and noble youth. all wondered at his beauty, but no one but goldenhair knew that it was the fairy of the wood, who had become a mortal being for her sake. she loved him and gave him her hand, and they were married; and after that they ruled the kingdom together in great peace and happiness. _chapter twelve_ _home again_ ellen looked about her. she was still standing in the golden room of the queerbodies' house. before her was the fairy tale, smiling down into her face with shining eyes. there, too, were the gander and the queerbody. "is that the story?" the queerbody asked. ellen clasped her hands. "oh, yes," she cried, looking up into the fairy tale's face. "i'm sure you're the one. there were goldenhair and the sooty hood and all. you 'll stay made up now, won't you?" "yes," answered the story; "and more than that, i'm going back with you too." ellen gave a little cry of delight. she took the story's hand in hers, and it was so smooth and white she laid her cheek against it, and then kissed it softly. "but how about the rhyme?" asked the gander. "oh, yes; i'd forgotten to ask for that." then ellen told the queerbody how she had promised mother goose that she would try to find a forgotten rhyme for her. the child couldn't tell the queerbody exactly what the rhyme was, of course, because it was a forgotten one, but she explained as well as she could. the queerbody seemed to know which one she meant. "oh, yes, i can easily make that over; but if i do, you must promise to remember it and say it sometimes after you go back." ellen was very willing to promise. then the queerbody bent over another jar and took out some wondercluff. she patted and twisted and pulled, and then she set what she had made upon the floor. it was a funny-looking little rhyme, with a brown belted coat and a pointed cap, and a broad grin on its fat, round face. "quank! quank!" cried the gander. "there he is again." the rhyme blinked and looked about him, and then he spoke, still grinning broadly. "hello! i guess i've been forgotten, haven't i? but somebody seems to have brought me back. well, there's the old gander, same as ever." he ran over and caught hold of the gander's bridle. "give me a ride?" he asked. "yes, i'm going to carry you back with me." "oh, goody, goody!" and the rhyme hopped up and down as though its toes were made of rubber. but ellen looked anxious. "i wonder how we're all to get back," she said, with a glance at the fairy tale. "i don't believe the gander can carry us all." "oh, you're not going back with me," he answered. "the journey's too long for that, and there's an easier way." "yes, a much easier way," chimed in the queerbody. "why, it's so easy that sometimes i go home without even trying." ellen wondered. "do you? and then you have to come all that long way to get here again?" "no, it's shorter when you know the way. sometimes i get back in a minute. but put your ear against the wall and listen." ellen put her ear against the golden wall. as she listened she gave a little gasp of amazement, and yet what she heard was not so very wonderful; it was only the voices of her mother and the seamstress talking quietly together in the sewing-room. presently the voices grew fainter. ellen leaned harder against the wall to catch their tones. then all in a moment the wall yielded to her weight, just as a snowdrift might, and she fell through it. [illustration] she put out her hands to save herself, and caught hold of something hard and solid; it was the shelf of the bookcase. she was back in her own familiar nursery. she looked about her. there was no sign of where she had come through, no break in wall or ceiling. with a little cry she leaned forward and thrust her hands back between the book-shelves. they touched only the hard, cold wall. the vines were only painted on the paper; they would not draw aside under her eager fingers. as ellen turned from the bookcase she saw the shape of the fairy tale standing between her and the window. she was sure she saw it. it smiled and waved its hand to her, and then it was gone like the fading of one's breath upon the window-pane. "dear fairy tale, where are you?" cried ellen; but there was no reply. ellen waited a moment. "fairy tale!" she whispered. still silence. opening the door into the entry, the little girl ran down to the sewing-room as fast as she could. "mamma, mamma!" she called. she burst like a little whirlwind into the room where her mother and the seamstress were quietly at work, and threw herself into her mother's lap. "i've been having the queerest time," she cried excitedly; "and you never could guess where i've been; never." "wait," said her mother; "you're tumbling my work. and how excited you are, dear!" she put aside her sewing, and took the little girl upon her lap. "now, what have you been doing?" breathlessly and with flushing cheeks ellen told her mother all about her journey and her strange adventures on her way to the queerbodies' house. the mother listened and wondered. "that was a wonderful dream, indeed," she said. "a dream! why, it wasn't a dream, mamma. it really happened. and then i saw the fairy tale after i came back. and then the forgotten story itself; i couldn't have dreamed all that, you know." "but, my dear, it couldn't have been anything but a dream." "well, wait. i'm going to go down and tell grandmamma about it; and if it's the same story, then you know it _must_ be true." "very well; only go down quietly, for she may not have wakened from her nap yet." when ellen peeped in through her grandmother's door, however, she saw the old lady sitting over in her rocking-chair near the window, knitting. "may i come in?" she asked. "yes, yes, come in, little clara. i was just wondering where you and all the other children were." the child drew up a little stool and sat down by her grandmother's knee. "granny," she said, trying to speak quietly, "i think i know what happened to little goldenhair now. shall i tell you the story?" "yes, do, my dear." so ellen told her grandmother the story of goldenhair. the grandmother listened, smiling and nodding her head. after a while she grew so interested that she pushed her glasses up on top of her cap. "yes, yes, that is it. i didn't know anybody remembered that story any more, but that is the way i heard it when i was a child." "then it's true," cried the child triumphantly; "and i really did find the queerbodies' house, and see them making stories." "ah, yes, i knew a queerbody once, and she used to make stories;--verses, too. she was a lovely girl. it was long ago." "and did she tell you all about the queerbodies' house and the golden jars?" but the grandmother shook her head. "it is a long time ago, and i forget. i am so old--so old, little clara." "i knew it was n't a dream," murmured the child; and as she sat there by her grandmother's knee she felt the fairy tale was there, smiling gently upon them both, even though no one could see her. * * * * * by katharine pyle the christmas angel as the goose flies nancy rutledge in the green forest wonder tales retold tales of folk and fairies tales of wonder and magic fairy tales from far and near * * * * * kophetua the thirteenth by julian corbett author of "the fall of asgard," "for god and gold," etc. london macmillan & co. and new york _the right of translation is reserved_ contents. chapter i. page oneiria, chapter ii. his majesty, chapter iii. the marriage question, chapter iv. the queen-mother, chapter v. mademoiselle de tricotrin, chapter vi. the king's councillors, chapter vii. the liberties of st. lazarus, chapter viii. escape, but not liberty, chapter ix. in the queen's garden, chapter x. the fall of turbo, chapter xi. opening the campaign, chapter xii. a decisive action, chapter xiii. mistress and maid, chapter xiv. "moribundus amor," chapter xv. two victims, chapter xvi. a night march, chapter xvii. "check!", chapter xviii. the queen's move, chapter xix. conspirators, chapter xx. players, chapter xxi. hunter and hunted, chapter xxii. hermits, chapter xxiii. an official report, chapter xxiv. the sacrifice of love, chapter xxv. the crown of kisses, chapter i. oneiria. "i read that once in affrica a princely wight did raine, who had to name kophetua, as poets they did faine." the outburst of political speculation which followed the renaissance is well known to us by its remarkable literature. true it is that the greater part of it is long since dead and sleeps in peace, save where every now and then its ghosts are scared by a literary historian. but this obscurity only adds to its interest, and increases at once the charm, the safety, and the credit we may enjoy in discussing it. for the ordinary englishman perhaps the only work of the class which is still really alive is the delightful political romance of sir thomas more. yet to those who love the dustier shelves of libraries long ranks of its comrades will be not unfamiliar, standing guard as it were over the memory of an intellectual movement as vigorous and creative as any the world has seen. it is to the more daring and fantastic of these works that this chapter in the history of philosophy owes its charm and freshness. so entrancing indeed are they that those double traitors to humanity, who not only write books, but write books about books, have led us to look upon these ponderous folios as the only mark the movement has left on history, and we are apt to forget that it also had its practical side. yet that side not only had an existence, but it was even more romantic and fanciful than the other. for many of the pregnant seeds from the tree of political knowledge, which the strong breath of the renaissance was wafting over europe, fell on good ground, where pedantry did not spring up and choke them. there were many cultivated earnest gentlemen of that time in whose chivalrous hearts they alighted, and whose imagination was so stirred with the new ideas, that they actually attempted to carry them into practice. coming as the movement did contemporaneously with the dayspring of colonial enterprise, it naturally suggested itself to these high-souled scholars to leave the corruption and oppression of the old countries which it was hopeless to reform, and sailing away with a little community of kindred souls in whom the new spirit breathed, to found in some distant land a colony, where a polity established in pure reason should grow to be a model to the world. many of these attempts were complete failures at once, nearly all were more or less short-lived, and by the end of the last century there was not one so prosperous as the african colony of oneiria. lying as it did in that remote and little-known corner of the world which is watered by the drâa and its tributaries, and is intersected by the spurs of the anti-atlas, it had been able to enjoy after its first struggle for existence the repose of a well-earned obscurity. there was no one who envied it anything, and consequently it had no enemy, nor even an importunate friend to seek its alliance and lead it into scrapes. the half savage shelluhs, who sparsely occupied the country, were soon content to remain as tributaries under their own chiefs, in the more inaccessible parts of the mountains, and to leave the teeming valleys and table-lands to the newcomers. through the canary islands the colony kept up a small but regular trade with western europe. the exports were of a very mixed nature, but chiefly consisted of dates. as the country was practically self-supporting, the imports were comparatively simple. they were confined to books, works of art, and clothes of the latest mode. for it was the pride of oneiria, as with most other colonies of the time, that, notwithstanding its remote position, it floated on the surface of european opinion; and so freely did it indulge in this delicious conviction, that it is to be feared it grew but too often to an actual intemperance, and at the time of which i speak there is no doubt that oneiria sometimes caricatured the fantasies of a fantastic age. internally oneiria was almost as unruffled as in its foreign relations. the elaborate constitution of the original founder worked so smoothly and effectively that crime and even discontent seemed almost unknown. the most ingenious and conscientious politicians had long ago abandoned the hopeless struggle to extract a difference of opinion out of questions of the interior. this dearth of disagreement led to a serious famine in the political world, that had it not been for one recurrent topic, of which i shall have to speak more fully hereafter, politics must have completely perished of starvation. it is not clear who the founder of the fortunate colony was. from an exaggerated niceness of honour, so characteristic of the age we call elizabethan, he seems to have taken most ingenious precautions that his very name should be forgotten, lest it might appear that his experiment was a device to feed his personal vanity rather than the disinterested sacrifice it really was. that he was an englishman, who had considerably modified his national characteristics by extensive and sagacious travel, is almost certain. his followers were believed to have been recruited from amongst the hardy seafaring population of the coasts of bohemia, though more recent conjecture points to the fact that london was the real parent of the colony, and it is suggested that by "bohemia" the "alsatia" of whitefriars is really intended. however, as the whole of the evidence on the subject is contained in the following pages, it will be an advantage to allow the reader to judge for himself upon the whole case, and so avoid a tedious and possibly unfruitful discussion. the fact in the early history of the colony most interesting for us is fortunately beyond dispute. oneiria was, without a shadow of doubt, founded on the ruins of the kingdom of that kophetua whose romantic love-story, probably a good deal perverted, is so familiar to us from the beautiful ballads of the "king and the beggar-maid." it was this which must have suggested to the founder his first steps towards oblivion when he ascended his new throne under the style of kophetua ii. were this fact not established from other sources, beyond all question there is ample evidence in the present story to support it. the ancient kingdom must have been dying, and not dead, at the time. we shall meet with constant traces of an older, ruder, and more oriental civilisation underlying the scientific superstructure of the english knight. the results were extremely curious, but perhaps the most interesting phenomenon to which this peculiar fact gave rise, was the extraordinary organisation and privileges of the beggar class, though it is possible that some of their wilder laws and customs were a direct importation from "whitefriars." it is a pity that no more is known on these points, but further inquiry is almost hopeless. the colony was entirely destroyed soon after the happy reign of kophetua xiii. and his beloved queen came peacefully to an end. there was but a day between their deaths, and so prostrated were the people by the sudden loss of both their idolised sovereigns, that they seem to have been able to offer no adequate resistance to a _jehad_ which, for some unknown cause, was preached against them amongst the neighbouring mussulman tribes. it is probable that they had made some attempts to intervene for the protection of the last of the berber christians. a few of these highly interesting survivals are believed to have been still in existence at the end of the last century, in the remoter parts of the atlas, and some may possibly have continued even later. all, however, which we know for certain is that in one of those strange restless upheavals, so characteristic of the north of africa, the mussulman berbers rose and flowed like a flood over what was once oneiria. as suddenly as the colony had appeared, it disappeared from history; the country is now impenetrable to europeans, and has not been visited since the destruction of the colony. rohlfs, indeed, tells us that somewhere in the basin of the drâa he saw amongst the distant hills what looked like the nave and tower of a church, and he further noticed that in this region the people had a much higher style of architecture, and otherwise seemed distinctly more civilised, than the tribes he was already familiar with. but no other traces of the colony have been met with, and its destruction must have been as complete as it was sudden. beyond what has already been related, all that is known or likely to be known of oneiria is contained in the following pages, which deal with a romantic episode in the life of king kophetua xiii. we must congratulate ourselves that even so much was preserved by the taste of a gentleman who visited the colony at the beginning of this century, and brought back with him the notes from which the present romance is taken. for romance it certainly is, and there seems no reason why we should deprive it of that title simply because it is also a record of historical occurrences. chapter ii. his majesty. "from nature's lawes he did decline, for sure he was not of my mind: he cared not for women-kinde, but did them all disdaine." kophetua was undoubtedly the handsomest man in his kingdom. the slightest suspicion of moorish blood, incurred from a spanish ancestress, had only added, as it were, a tropical richness to the beauty which he had inherited from the founder, and that was no small inheritance. it was part of the constitution that every king of oneiria should be known by the name of kophetua, but a grateful and imaginative people had been dissatisfied with the bald arithmetical distinctions which this law entailed. in the old fashion they had begun to speak of their sovereigns by surnames, till an unforeseen difficulty arose. after the death of the founder, his splendid sons succeeded him one after another with an alarming rapidity, due to the reckless exposure of their persons to the early berber enemies of the state. every brother was handsomer than the last, and obviously demanded a surname expressive of personal beauty. it was a characteristic so dazzling that the popular mind could not fix itself on any other of the family qualities, brilliant as they were. to a humorous people the monotony soon became ridiculous, and every one was relieved when, before two generations had passed away, it was found that every word in the oneirian vocabulary in any way synonymous with "handsome" was already exhausted, and by tacit agreement the country fell back restfully upon the limitless resources of the ordinal numbers. so our kophetua was simply known as "thirteenth." yet it made a pretty name when you got used to it. it is a soft-sounding one as it stands, and was still prettier in the popular dialect. as the trade of the country was almost entirely with the canaries, the common people counted in spanish, and so by a diminutive of affection their king was known to them as "trecenito." yet of all the line of kophetuas he most deserved a more distinctive surname. any one must have so agreed who could have seen him as he sat to-day in his library with a copy of rousseau's _origin of inequality_ dropped listlessly on his knees. it was an ideal book-room, in the style of the early french renaissance. the whole palace indeed was designed in the same manner. it was the most eclectic style the founder could light upon, and everything in oneiria was eclectic. ten panels opposite the ten windows were occupied by fine portraits of the ten successors of the founder. trecenito's own had to hang on a screen. at either end of the long chamber was a magnificent fireplace reaching to the panelled ceiling. not that a fireplace was ever necessary in the balmy air of oneiria, but still, where the capital was situated, amongst the hills facing the atlantic, it enjoyed a temperate climate, and with considerable discomfort fires could be endured on the coldest days. this discomfort every one was glad to undergo for the sake of the european atmosphere generated by the blazing logs. it was hot but refined, and that was everything to a well-bred oneirian. in a smaller panel above one of these sacred hearths was a picture of the first king kophetua placing with love-lorn gesture the wondering beggar-maid upon his jewelled throne. it was a beautiful work, obviously by a dreamy and backward pupil of perugino. by his childish colour, naïve composition, and vague expression of sentiment, the painter had unconsciously given a charm to the subject which the greatest of his contemporaries could never have achieved. you turned from it with a sympathetic smile to look in vain down the long vista of books for the founder's portrait over the other hearth. picture there was none. even his features were forgotten, but where the painting should have been hung a splendid suit of armour of the later sixteenth century fashion. morion, corselet, tassets, all were richly chased. below hung a great pair of cordovan boots armed with heavy gilded spurs. one gauntlet seemed to grasp a five-foot rapier with a great cup-guard and hilt-points of extravagant length, while in the other was placed a shell-dagger of the same design. it was the very suit in which the heroic founder had stepped from his pinnace upon the burning sand, and claimed that land for his company "by right divine of inheritance from adam," and somehow that trophy of arms always gave to trecenito a vivid sense of the old knight's presence in the room, which no dead portrait could have conveyed. indeed, it was not hard to fancy a grim face beneath the shadow of the peaked morion, as the gloom of evening fell and the firelight flickered. it was on this the king was gazing with his rousseau on his knees. surfeited with philosophy, he fell to musing on his ancestor till he saw beneath the morion the stern, burnt features, as he pictured them, with grey pointed beard and bristling moustache. he could not help contrasting the fancy with his own smooth, shaven face, and the old adventurous life with his own colourless existence. "turbo!" he cried, as, stung with the unhappy contrast, he started up and half unconsciously tore off a black patch which, after the custom of the time, adorned his cheek--"turbo! i am a miserable man." "so your majesty is continually hinting. may i die if i know why!" with an air of well-feigned interest in his monarch's state of mind, the speaker rose from an elegant buhl writing-table, which would have been covered with official papers had there been any business for the king to transact with his chancellor; but as usual there was none, and the table bore nothing weightier than a half-finished copy of latin verses, perhaps quite heavy enough for its slender proportions, for the chancellor was a poet by conviction rather than birth. indeed poetry could hardly have dwelt in a form so revolting. his face was distorted by two livid scars. one stretched across the lower part of his nose up to his right eye, which in healing it had drawn down so that it looked like a bloodhound's. the other ran across his mouth in such a way that it exposed his teeth on one side and gave to his face a snarling expression that was acutely unprepossessing. his shoulders, too, seemed in some way ill-matched, and he joined kophetua at the founder's hearth with an ungainly limp which completed the picture of deformity he presented. "no! may i die if i know why," repeated turbo. "ah, you will not understand," said the king. "how can i be happy, how can i live according to nature, leading the life i do, without an annoyance, literally without an annoyance? how can i ever rival the knight," he went on, "with nothing to overcome, with nothing to stand in my way? i tell you i am a miserable man." "if your majesty will have it so," answered turbo, "i must of course agree." "and why should you not in any case?" asked kophetua a little testily. "look at me. here before you is practically the only sovereign in the civilised world who at this moment has not a revolution more or less developed in his dominions, while my disgracefully contented subjects will not--why, they will not even read the jacobin paper we have been at the pains surreptitiously to start for them." "no," said the chancellor gravely, "i believe that only six copies were sold this week. there were two copies for you and me, one for the queen-mother, and one for general dolabella, who i am sure only lights his pipe with it. there was one went to the beggars for decorative purposes, it is said; and the sixth--let me see," he continued as he limped to his desk and took out a small memorandum on large official paper. "the sixth--ah! yes, that was a presentation copy to the museum which i paid for myself." "it is heart-breaking, absolutely heart-breaking," cried the king. "to what end have i spent all these years in the study of politics? to what end have you lavished your inestimable instruction on me, and sacrificed what should have been the most brilliant career in europe in order to educate me for a throne? is there a single writer on statecraft, from plato to more, from machiavelli to voltaire, that i have not mastered from end to end, to say nothing of the knight's manuscript?" "indeed, sire," answered the chancellor, "you have made yourself a most consummate statesman." "no, turbo," said the king, "be just. it is you that have made me so. without you these books would have said not a word to me for all their wisdom. but to what end is it all, i say? here i stand disgraced before the knight's armour, not because i will not or cannot do anything, but because there is nothing to do. i tell you, turbo, i shrink with shame when i see his grave face look out at me from under the morion, and yet,"--he went on, pacing the room, with a noble look on his handsome face,--"he has no right to scorn me. i know that were there wrongs to right, i have will and power to right them, or at least the courage to die fighting for the same end to which his heroic life was sacrificed." "well, be comforted," said turbo; "to-morrow you will have an annoyance. for to-morrow, i would remind you, comes your mother's last choice for you; at least, i imagine that is the intention. it will be very serious this time. remember you have entered your thirtieth year, and if at the end of it you are not married----" "by the constitution," broke in the king, "i shall cease to reign. i know it, and then they will elect you. i cannot help it. i shall dislike and despise this woman, as i do every other. thank god, i have learnt your lesson well. how i should have been deceived had it not been for the wise misogyny which you, my dear instructor, were at such pains to teach me!" as he spoke he stretched out his hand as though to lay it affectionately on his old governor's shoulder, when there was a sudden clash of steel overhead. with a start he looked up in time to catch the founder's long rapier as it fell, and in a moment he was standing with its great hilt in his outstretched hand and its point straight at the heart of turbo, who started back in alarm. kophetua turned deadly pale, hardly daring to think what this ghostly warning might mean. as he felt the dusty hilt between his fingers it was as though the dead, war-worn hand of his ancestor were stretched up out of the grave to grasp his own: he stood almost expecting to hear a hollow voice from under the morion, and turbo watched him with restless eyes. even as he held it the king knew the heavy weapon was tiring his arm. it was the last touch to his misery, and he dropped the point with a little nervous laugh. "one would think," he said, in a voice that sounded very strange in the dead silence which followed the clash of steel,--"one would think the old knight discerned in you an enemy instead of my best and only friend." the chancellor laughed loud and hoarsely at the king's humour, but did not touch the weapon which his monarch laid down sorrowfully. "the wire must have rusted away till it broke," said he. "exactly," said the king. "yet it is a most remarkable occurrence." a short but awkward silence followed, till fortunately the chamberlain entered the room to inquire if the king desired to prepare for supper. so the colloquy of the two friends ended, and turbo was left alone, gazing absently out of the window at the beggars before the palace gate, as one by one they rose from their crouching postures, stretched their cramped limbs, and wandered slowly away to their dens with the air of men conscientiously satisfied with a long day's work. chapter iii. the marriage question. "the lords they tooke it grievously, the commons cryed pitiously." it has already been mentioned that there was one recurrent subject of discussion which saved oneirian politics from entire extinction. this was the great marriage question. the wise founder, anxious no doubt to perpetuate his race to the ends for which he had lived, and fully aware of the jeopardy to which his descendants would be exposed in the midst of savage berber tribes, had made it an intrinsic part of the constitution that every king of oneiria, before he reached the age of thirty, must marry the woman chosen for him by his people. formerly the parliament had taken the greatest interest in its legislative work. each proposal was debated at length, and with considerable intelligence. in process of time, however, all this changed. the founder had elaborated a system of taxation, something on the lines of that afterwards described by harrington in his _oceana_, whereby it was made by a natural development self-extinguishing. an unhappy result of the contrivance was perhaps unforeseen by the founder, but it soon appeared that as the central fund increased and the annual taxes dwindled, it was more and more difficult to get members to attend the sessions. before the colony was a hundred years old taxes were declared unnecessary, and at an end for ever. by an inherent elasticity the central fund grew with the growth of the people, and even began to afford a surplus to be distributed amongst the beggars. there was no need any longer to vote money. no reform of the perfected laws was possible. parliament became an agreeable club, to which the members when once elected belonged by tacit consent for life. sessions were, however, still held, where the more imaginative deputies debated the sublime and eternal principles of government, and pointed out to each other, with never fading satisfaction, how divinely the oneirian statute-book embodied that quintessential spirit of justice which their heated rhapsodies had distilled. as for their business, it was almost entirely formal, consisting chiefly in the periodical endorsement of the king's choice from among their own number of the great state officers. it will then be easily understood how jealously they valued their last live prerogative of choosing the king's bride. as a matter of fact, of course, she was always selected by the high officers of state, and the parliament ratified the choice; but this ratification could not be said to be a mere form, for as late as the beginning of the century the house had absolutely refused to endorse the ministers' choice, because the lady presented to them was not sufficiently beautiful. since then greater care had been exercised in the preliminary selection, and the attendant ceremonial considerably elaborated. the bride-elect was now presented to the full house, dressed with every care and splendour which was in any way calculated to enhance her attractions, and after question put and carried, the decision of the house was sealed by the speaker imprinting a kiss upon the lips of the chosen beauty as she knelt before the chair. thereupon he raised her up, and pronounced her election in this poetic form, "reign, beautiful princess, crowned with a people's kiss." since the introduction of the new coronation ceremony the office of speaker had become extremely popular. he was elected annually by virtue of the original constitution and party feeling on the marriage question, began once more to run very high, as the election was always decided on strictly party lines in relation to this single topic. it will be easy, then, to picture the condition of political circles at the time of which we are now speaking. for some eight years the king had been seen to reject beauty after beauty without reason given, to the acute disappointment of successive speakers. but now the period had arrived when he must absolutely marry within the year and the excitement over the approaching election to the chair had reached an almost alarming intensity. the body politic was divided into two main parties, the _kallists_, who professed that beauty should be the sole ground on which the queen should be chosen, and the _agathists_, who would have the selection determined by moral worth alone. such at least was said to be the distinction when intelligent foreigners asked for information. possibly it was actually so once, but now the principles of the two parties so overlapped that the only real question between them was who should elect the speaker. it should perhaps be mentioned that there was a third party styling themselves the _kallikagathists_. they were a well-meaning offshoot of the agathists, who, fondly believing that two distinct policies still existed, thought to produce unity by adopting both. so far it had been a failure, and though the party had the names of many superior persons upon it, it was little regarded. the court was divided into corresponding groups, and what further complicated political relations was that the heads of the separate palace circles were regarded as the leaders of the parliamentary parties, although of course their aims were widely different. in the house the occupation of the chair filled the whole political horizon. in the palace that was a matter of complete indifference, and the whole struggle was to see whose introduction would eventually be made acceptable to the king. thus between the leaders and their followers there existed no more real connection than there did between the professed opinions of the respective parties and their actual aims, and it may be doubted whether any country in europe had been so entirely successful in elaborating a party system by which it was impossible for any question to be decided on its merits. the system can only be described as chaotic. every trace of the original landmarks had disappeared, and yet a good kallist would rather be called anything than an agathist, unless perhaps it were a kallikagathist. an agathist regarded a kallist as a frivolous person of low moral tone, while, in the eyes of a kallist, an agathist was a detestable outcome of the puritan taint in the old settlers, a shallow pretender to an impossible standard of virtue. a kallist who could invent a new way of saying an agathist was a prig became a marked personality in the house, while a young agathist who succeeded in inventing a fresh figure to express his contempt for a cynic might at once pose as a coming man. cynicism was certainly the prevailing tone of the kallist salons. there you might hear of a young girl who had hurried for an hour's relaxation from the sickbed of a brother, or a genial old gentleman who had spent his day in extricating a poor relation from a debtor's prison, giving it as their perfected conviction that no excellence could be credited with existence which you could not see. on the other hand, the atmosphere of agathist gatherings was decidedly one of moral platitude, where elaborately dressed men and daintily rouged women prattled in polished phrase of the nothingness of exteriors, and the all-sufficiency of truth and goodness. it is certainly remarkable that a similar condition of society has appeared nowhere else, and it is these unique politico-social phenomena which constitute oneiria's chief claim to find an adequate historian. at present the kallists were in the ascendant. with turbo at their head they were naturally more than a match for the opposition, whose fortunes at court were intrusted to the queen-mother. the chancellor was certainly the strongest statesman who had appeared in the colony since its foundation, while the queen margaret was fitted for her position rather by disposition than political ability. she was the daughter of a german officer of noble birth who, having entered the service of spain, rose to be governor of the canaries. from him she inherited all the homely simplicity so characteristic of the family relations of his nation. otherwise she was not without shrewdness and a certain power of resistance, which enabled her to oppose the splendid abilities of the chancellor as well, perhaps, as any one in the kingdom. it was whispered that there were other reasons why these two naturally found themselves in opposite camps, reasons that were known to none but themselves. there would have been little doubt that the report was well founded in the mind of any one who could have seen the chancellor as he stood at the window watching the beggars. ten minutes after the king had left there was a sound on his ear of a woman's tread in the ante-chamber, and a gentle rustle of a silk dress upon the polished boards. turbo started and looked towards the door. it began to open, and as quickly he turned to the window again. "that will do," said a soft voice full of quiet dignity. "you need not stay. i wish to be alone, and shall remain here till suppertime. attend me then." the heavy door closed, and the chancellor looked round to see the queen-mother advancing into the room. she was a handsome woman of not more than fifty, with a spare, stately figure. in her powder and rouge and the modish gown she had just assumed for the evening she looked little more than half her age. at least so thought the chancellor; and, as the fitful firelight lit up her queenly form, she looked to him almost as beautiful as though a quarter of a century had not passed since first they met. "if your majesty would be alone," said turbo, with a profound bow, "i pray your leave to retire." "i would be alone with you, chancellor," the queen answered. "i wish to speak with you." "and your majesty denied me the pleasure of waiting on you?" said the chancellor, with a smile that made his snarl more hideously apparent. "yes," the queen replied; "because i have that to say which i would have no one hear; and, besides, there are other reasons why none should know of our interview." "your majesty interests me strangely," said the chancellor. "i wish to speak to you about my son," said the queen, with a slight tremor in her voice. she drew towards the founder's hearth, and sat down in a great chair that was almost a throne, and, at the same time, motioned the chancellor to a seat opposite to her. "be seated," she said, with the same hesitation as before; "i want to converse with you as an old friend." she looked at turbo wistfully, as though to see some softening of his snarl, but he avoided her glance with another profound bow in acknowledgment of her condescension; and the queen's heart sank as she felt her mission was almost hopeless. chapter iv. the queen-mother. "disdaine no whit, o lady deere, but pity now thy servant here." for a while they sat in silence looking into the fire. indeed it was hard for the queen-mother to know how to begin. let it be said at once frankly, she and turbo had loved each other. it was long ago now, and far away--in fair castile,--when he was the brilliant and accomplished young secretary of her father. he was no mere clerk, but a youth of noble family, an aspirant to the great offices of the state, who had taken the post to learn the business of administration. thus there was no reason why he should not openly show his adoration for his chief's beautiful daughter, or why she should seek to hide her love for him. daily they met, and daily his passion grew. he loved her with all the ardour of which his hot spanish blood was capable, so that it maddened him to see how cold and calm was her northern heart, loving as it was, beside the fever that consumed him. yet he was happy in the knowledge of her love, and all went well till one night her father entertained an officer to whom he had taken a liking. he was a man of brilliant wit, but known as a greedy duellist. yet margaret was amused, and laughed and talked gaily with him till he departed. turbo accompanied him to a tavern hard by for a parting cup. the place was full of gentlemen, many of whom the officer knew. they fell to talking, then to boasting, till in an evil hour the man vaunted his new conquest, and let fall a little light word with margaret's name. in a moment he had the lie and a stinging blow on the mouth from turbo's glove. all efforts of the young secretary's friends to save him from his quixotic folly were in vain. he would listen to no explanation. he would receive no apology. the least he could do, it seemed to him, to show himself worthy of his treasured love, was to chastise the man who had breathed ever so faintly on his mistress's name. they fought on horseback, with pistols and swords. it was all the youth's friends could do in order to equalise the chances. yet the affair was little better than murder. the first shot hit turbo in the knee, the second tore across his lips. half choking with blood he fell on with his sword; but no sooner were they engaged than a fearful gash across the face blinded him. in the agony of the moment he checked his rearing horse sharply, and the frantic animal fell over on the top of him. for months he lay in the hospital almost between life and death. every day came flowers and a little loving note from margaret, overflowing with pity and gratitude. it made him bear his terrible suffering with a gay heart to see how much his courage had won him. his chief came constantly to his bedside, and spoke to him as a son-in-law; but ere he was fully recovered, and clear of the pestilential air of the hospital, he was taken with the small-pox. another terrible period of waiting and suffering ensued, and by the time he was able to leave the hospital, margaret and her father had sailed for the canaries. without a moment's delay he followed them, and at length the longed-for moment was to come, when he should hold his love in his arms once more. she burst into the room with a glad cry when they told her he was come, but no sooner did she set eyes on his mangled form than she stopped transfixed with horror, and with a terrible scream fell to the ground. the shock threw her into a dangerous illness, and when she recovered nothing more was said of a marriage. turbo accepted his fate, but with a bitterness that poisoned his whole nature. his love was no less than before, and it was only by the nursing of a bitter contempt for its object, and all the daughters of eve, that he could make his life endurable. and yet he could not tear himself from her side. the months went by, and still he remained at his old post, and when margaret left to become queen of oneiria, he accepted the place which kophetua xii.--the present king's father--offered him out of admiration for his abilities, and pity for his miserable story. when the young prince was born, so great was the esteem in which turbo was held, that he was appointed his governor; and as soon as the boy was old enough to be out of the nurse's hands, turbo began to win a surprising influence over him. so great was the affection that grew up between the ill-assorted pair, that when the king died it was found that turbo was named guardian in the will, and it was from this post that he had been elevated to the chancellorship as soon as the boy came of age. with such a pricking memory in her mind it is not to be wondered at that the poor queen sat looking long into the fire before she spoke; especially as all her own, and, what was more, all her son's happiness seemed to hang on the result of the interview. "do you mean to thwart me again, chancellor?" she said at last abruptly. "i trust i have never willingly thwarted your majesty in anything," he answered. "nay, i cry a truce on courtly fictions," said the queen, a little impatiently. "let us be frank for once." "as your majesty pleases," answered the chancellor, without the least unbending. "to-morrow the marquis de tricotrin will arrive with his daughter. you know?" began the unhappy queen. "i have heard so unofficially." "and you know why she is coming?" "i have permitted myself to hazard a guess." "then what do you mean to do?" "like your majesty, my duty, modified by circumstances." "what do you mean?" "merely that as heretofore i shall advise his majesty on the whole circumstances of the case, if and when i am consulted." "chancellor," cried the queen impatiently, "i have urged you to be frank. to what end is all this? i have come a long way to you, will you not make one step to meet me? well," she continued, as the chancellor made no reply, "i at least can be open. i ask you, do you mean to make my son refuse again?" "really your majesty flatters me. the king will use his own discretion." "no, he will use yours. do you think i do not know why it is that girl after girl has come hither in vain. in every way they were fitted to be his queen, and he refused even to be kind to one. it was you that made him do it. he gives not a thought to me. it is you that are all in all to him. his whole soul is but a little bit of yours. you have absorbed him, you have taken him all from me." "i assure your majesty," said the chancellor imperturbably, "we do not ever discuss the subject together. it is entirely his own inclination that guides him." "you say that," said the queen, with increasing agitation. "you say that, and if it is true it is worse than i thought. you have taught him, like yourself, to hate women. that is why he speaks of them as he does. but still you can undo your work. if not for my sake or for his, at least for the country's you should administer the antidote. if you have poisoned, it is you alone who can cure. see the pass we have come to. what will happen if he is not married this year? he will lose his kingdom; but that is a little thing to what i am losing. cannot you understand what it is for me to see the ruin of my one son's life, to see his soul starving for want of a woman's love, to long unsatisfied to see his great nature ripened with a husband's and a father's joys, to hold his children on my knee, and know once more the holiest love a woman ever feels? think, think what you do, and hold your hand before it is too late. you cannot be all stone. if you have one tender spot left give him back to me. turbo, in the name of our old love, give him back to me!" she leaned forward towards him, her hands outstretched with a pleading gesture that was inexpressibly touching and tender. but turbo remained immovable, save that his snarl grew more cruel. it was more than she could bear. she felt her eyes filling with tears, and she bowed her head in her hands. there was a silence between them for a minute, and then turbo's cold voice spoke unchanged. "by what right," said he, "do you conjure me by our old love? you, who threw me away like a soiled glove." "i have no right," she murmured, without looking up. "it was a great sin, and none can know how i have suffered for it. but the crime was not his. at least you may have mercy on him." "and what right have you," he continued as coldly as ever, "to crave mercy for him? did you show any to me? what is he to you that i was not a thousandfold? when did he ever love you more than his dogs? and i have burned for you like a fire! what devotion has he ever shown you? and i crawled to you like a slave! what has he ever sacrificed for you? and i gave more than my life for a little piece of your honour. how will you find reward for me, if to him you would give so much?" "you know not," she answered piteously, "you cannot know, what he is to me. all you say is true, yet god has made him more to me than all the world. turbo, he is my son, my only child, and you will not understand." "nor will you understand what i have felt," answered turbo. "yet i will tell you, gretchen; try and conceive it. think what i was when i crawled hither in your train to be a thing of loathing to every woman in the court, and all because i had been too jealous of your honour. think what a sweet reward of chivalry it was to lick up the crumbs you threw me to ease your tormenting conscience. i know what it cost you to invite me here. i know how you detested the sight of me. you did it as a penance, and i saw you saying, as you shuddered by me, 'god will forgive my sin, because i cast my broken meats to this lazarus, and suffer my dogs to lick his sores.'" he paused a little, looking down on the crouching form without pity, while she shrank and sobbed with her hands before her face. "and whose silent voice was this?" he pursued. "it was my love that spoke. it was she who once had met me with a blush of mantling delight; it was she whose soft form i had clasped unresisting in my arms; it was her heart that had beaten warm and fast against mine; it was her lips that had drunk my kisses like sweet wine. you--you, who knew best how my heart could feel, what think you was in it then? but i bore it all uncomplaining, because i could not conceive of life away from you. i bore it and waited for some solace to come." "but why do you say all this?" the queen broke in as he stopped again. "what good can it do to gall your wounds and mine like this?" "listen, gretchen. i will tell you all now you have driven me to begin. i say i waited for a solace to come. it was weary, hopeless work, but the solace came at last. i had won your husband's esteem. he believed the fine sentiments i always had ready for his ear. i believed them once myself. he did not see i was changed, and gave me his boy to make a man of. then i saw in my grasp a thing to sweeten the bitterness of my life. i used to look at my charge, and see him beautiful as the daylight. i knew he would grow up a man that women would look on and love helplessly; and it was i--i, who was to make him worthy of their love! can you not see what sweet solace there was for me there? 'they shall love him,' i said, 'they shall love him, but he shall never return their love. i will show him what they are. he shall know from his childhood what i learnt too late.' i swore they should never rejoice in the love of such a man as i would make him. i pictured them longing for him and eating their hearts. was it not a gentle solace?" "it was revenge!" she cried bitterly; "it was unmanly revenge!" "call it what you will," he continued; "perhaps you are right, i do not pretend to be anything but what i am. yet i had another motive for what i did, and perhaps i am not wholly bad." "no, no, turbo," she said eagerly, as though his words gave her a hope to clutch at. "god knows you are not that." "and yet," he went on, without interruption, "i think i am as bad as a man can be; perhaps a woman might be worse. you try to think as well of me as you can. it is only natural. i owe you no thanks for it; for it was you alone that made me what i am. it has been wisely said that no one can act from a wholly bad motive. that is all i mean. i loved the boy a little--as much indeed as i can love anything again--and perhaps i thought to save him from what i had suffered. to love a woman was my curse. perhaps i strove a little to bless him with such a wisdom as would save him from that. that is what i have done for your son, gretchen; and now, when i turn over the pages of my miserable life, there is at least one pleasant chapter where i may linger." she saw it was hopeless now, and rose to her feet. the one ray of light was gone again, but before she dismissed him she longed to know one thing. so she drew up her stately figure and faced him with the courage of a woman who felt she was being punished beyond her crime. he was a coward to her now. "is that all you have to say to me, chancellor?" she said, looking straight in his face. "it was your majesty who sought the interview," he replied. "it can end when you wish." "is there nothing you have kept back? have you not one blow in reserve?" he did not answer, so she went on, "i ask because you tell me that you have taught my son to look on women as the basest creatures of god. i, his mother, am the type in your eyes. have you told him this too?" "does your majesty insist on an answer?" "i insist on nothing. i am powerless to do so. i only thought you would not be coward enough to add this new torment to my punishment." "i am only what your majesty has made me." "then god help us both," she said, checking an angry outburst that was on her lips. "you may retire." her attempt had failed. it was her first thought when he was gone, as she sank into her chair again. she had failed, and only added to her load the terrible uncertainty whether her son had been told of her crime. yet she knew she had gained something which she least expected to find. till now she had pitied her old lover, and that had prevented her giving way to open hostility. she had stood in awe of him, too, but now it seemed different. he was a pitiless and craven bully. why should she feel for him, who had no spark of sympathy for her? he was a thing to despise and not to fear. so when they entered to announce the supper-hour, she rose up calmly, knowing she had found a new courage for the struggle before her. chapter v. mademoiselle de tricotrin. "the ladies took it heavily." the excitement produced by the arrival of the marquis de tricotrin and his daughter at the court of oneiria was only to be expected. it was perfectly understood that the king must marry within the year, and it would hardly describe the situation to say that the chances of mademoiselle de tricotrin were discussed with greater animation than those of any previous candidate for the "crown of kisses." for her case was regarded as a certainty. but that only made the excitement to see her more intense, and, perhaps, no royal ball in oneiria was ever so brilliantly attended as that at which the lady was to make her _début_ the day following her arrival at the capital. it was a scene that it is difficult for us even to imagine. costume in oneiria was as yet entirely untainted by revolutionary ideas. rumours of the new fashions had indeed reached the country, but they had been ignored as the ridiculous affectations of low-bred fanatics. the fantastic modes of the century were in the heyday of their glory, and indeed had reached a degree of extravagance which it was natural to look for in so advanced and elegant a court as that of kophetua xiii. in no other spot on earth perhaps could you have seen the vulgar handiwork of nature so completely effaced as in his ballroom to-night. under mountains of powdered curls, and forests of ribbons, in which crouched large tropical birds, the women limped on tiny, high-heeled shoes, as though their exquisite refinement could not endure the comparatively crude ideas of their creator; every characteristic of their humanity was distorted or obliterated past all recognition with yard-long stomachers, high-peaked stays, and hoops that mocked at heaven; and the men pursued them in every extravagance, with patch and powder and paint, with stiff full skirts and grotesque headgear, as though refinement were only to be found in effeminacy. it was a living garden of artificial flowers, where the natural blossoms on figured satins seemed to deride the unnatural bloom on disfigured faces. still it was a brilliant kaleidoscopic scene as the rooms filled up, and coteries fell into groups to chat till the king appeared. for there was an immense deal of gossip to be got through. on the question of the hour nobody knew anything, and every one had something to tell. general dolabella was completely invested the moment he entered the rooms, and a lisping fire was at once opened on him to compel him to surrender his authoritative information. for of course the general knew all about it. he was a minister, uniting in his own person the offices of commander-in-chief and director of public worship. it was said to have been the last act of the founder to bring together these two portfolios. he looked upon the standing army and the church as the two great enemies of personal liberty, and it is supposed his idea was that no one man would ever be able to develop both to a dangerous degree of efficiency; or, as others conjectured, he hoped by drawing the two departments into close proximity to increase the chance of friction between them. in this the arrangement was very successful, though it certainly led to some extraordinary results. general dolabella had held his place for many years, and was regarded successful administrator. he was a man of two sides, as he often said himself, and perhaps his success was due to that. it was undoubtedly this gift which had won him the confidence of the kallikagathist party and placed him at its head. it had procured him, besides, advantages such as few enjoy. though a married man, with a growing family, he was a professed misogynist. it was the tone which the king gave to the court, and the general was nothing if not fashionable. he spoke of his marriage as an imprudence of his youth. but it did not stand in his way. his wife, of whom it must be said he stood a little in awe, was so entirely deceived by the tone of his conversation, that she never interfered with his little flirtations, and it must be confessed he had not a few. there was hardly a woman at court whom he had not loved in his time. to an ordinary man it would have been difficult to reconcile such tastes with the character of a professed misogynist, but the dually constituted general was not an ordinary man. he from the first made it his mission to convert the women of the court to the creed professed by the men, beginning with the prettiest as being probably the most dangerous heretics. if he had not as yet made many converts, he had succeeded in vastly amusing himself and his little friends, and it was with the satisfied smile of a popular cavalier that the general received the broadside of questions his fair besiegers delivered. "i protest, you should have declared war in proper form," said the gallant warrior, as he balanced himself on his tight satin shoes, with his elbows squeezed closely in to his pinched waist, and his white hands, half hidden in lace, toying mincingly before him with his cane. "this procedure is extremely uncanonical. had you sent me a trumpet to blow a formal citation i should have been prepared for you. but where was ever a woman," he added, with the sweetest smile, "who would not take a mean advantage if she could?" "you are a vastly provoking man, general," said one of his oldest experiments. "you know all about them, and could tell us if you chose." "may i die," answered the minister, "if i know more than yourselves." "but we know nothing," they cried, in excited chorus. "well, then," said dolabella, with an air of pity, "i suppose i must tell you what i have heard, or your poor little hearts will ache with curiosity." "dear general!" they responded, like a choir. "you must know then, to begin with," he said, "the marquis is an _émigré_. some two or three years past, having imbibed the principles without the practice of the revolution, he was obliged to leave his country. at first, it is said, he went to england, and then, on the advice of the doctors, he came to the canaries." "but what about the daughter?" asked the ladies. "is she a girondist or a jacobin, or whatever they are?" "i know no more," answered the general; "except that a long correspondence between the queen-mother and the spanish governor has resulted in an invitation." "then it is an agathist nomination," said the ladies, prepared to make up their minds accordingly. "i really cannot say," replied the minister, "without breach of confidence. but see, here comes his majesty. how well he looks!" everybody turned to see the king enter the ballroom with his mother. as they passed down the room people remarked that she seemed pale and weary, but that the king never looked better. it was always an excitement to both girls and mothers to try and get a bow all to themselves on these occasions. there was a saying amongst them in oneiria that where there is a bachelor there is hope. and, besides, whatever may have been his motives, turbo had been entirely successful in his education of the prince. he had grown to have a manner with women which, combined with his personal beauty and the additional advantage of a crown, was irresistible. in public it was one of extreme deference and courtesy, which, as he was never tired of hinting in the most delicately chosen phrases, arose from the duty he owed to himself, and not because the objects of his attentions in any way deserved them. but it was when alone with a woman that he shone the brightest. then his deferential manner was spiced with a charming effrontery. it never went as far as disrespect, and yet it was so unlike his ordinary demeanour, that each delighted victim thought he reserved it for herself alone. so it came about as turbo had promised himself, and many a girl looked eagerly that night for one kind glance before her new rival should appear. it was the subject of considerable remark that the guests of the evening had not yet arrived. the women put it down to an elaborate toilet, and consoled themselves with the prospect of something really fine, and possibly new; though there was very little chance of that, seeing how advanced and instructed the court of oneiria considered itself. the men said it was a mere woman's trick to make a sensation. it was not till the king had taken his seat on the daïs, and the chamberlain had cleared before him a wide space in the rustling throng for the opening dance, that a loud voice from the top of the broad oak steps, which descended to the ballroom, announced: "the marquis and mademoiselle de tricotrin." every eye was turned to them in a moment as they came down the steps, and in another the whole assembly, oblivious of etiquette, was frankly staring at them. such a sensation had never been known at court before within the memory of the oldest chamberlain. they had looked for a woman like themselves, with hoops wider, waist longer, and head-dress more extravagant, perhaps, than their own. that would not have surprised them considering that she was fresh from europe, although they seriously doubted whether even a frenchwoman could go further than themselves. but for this they were quite unprepared. it took away their breath. above a beautiful face, unrouged, and without a single patch, they saw, instead of a powdered and feathered mountain, a soft mass of flowing, almost dishevelled, warm brown hair. but her dress! that was stranger still. whatever they might have thought of the rest, this was intolerable. it was nothing but a simple robe of the softest primrose silk, which clung about her perfect figure voluptuously, and frankly expressed every graceful movement of her limbs. close beneath her breast it was girdled by a golden cord, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. otherwise it was unconfined, and yet so fashioned as to drape her closely in simple, natural folds. it was, in a word, the beautiful but extravagantly classic costume of the revolution. when she saw the ordeal before her, her colour heightened, and she shrank closer to her father's arm, but she recovered directly, and advanced down the lane they instinctively made for her, with the easy complacency of one who knows she is the best dressed woman in the room. her father looked as proud as his daughter to see their wonder. he was a tall, spare man, with an affectation of spartan austerity in his face and dress, and he smiled contemptuously on the rouged and bepatched men about him, as with his lovely daughter on his arm he advanced towards the king. there was certainly a titter as they passed, for the wits were not to be easily cowed, and whispered smart things to their fair neighbours. the ladies, who had no wits to whisper to them, passed judgment for themselves, without, of course, forgetting that they were in the presence of a political event. "la! what a ridiculous object," said a kallist lady, with a golden pheasant perching on her wig. "i protest it is not decent," sniffed a widow of agathist views and a damaged reputation. "it is vastly too pronounced to be either elegant or seemly," was the opinion of a superior person's lady, with a turn for aphorism, and a kallikagathist salon. but the only question after all was, what would the king think? on tiptoe they watched her reach the daïs, and with a perfect grace salute his hand. a few words passed between them; the king smiled as though thoroughly amused; then, to the utter confusion of the cavillers, they saw him give her his hand to open the ball, and many a sinking heart was compelled to confess to itself that mademoiselle de tricotrin, in her first stride, had come nearer the throne than any previous candidate in her whole course. the king was certainly delighted, and he still wore a smile of complete amusement as he took his place with her for the minuet. as the dance proceeded his delight only became more obvious. and no wonder. there are many beautiful sights under heaven, but none more beautiful than the vision which filled the eyes of the enchanted king. he had never seen a thing like that before. it was as though the very spirit of nature had taken shape before him. in her the formal bric-à-brac postures, to which he had been accustomed, became transformed with the grace of a poising bird. from one bewitching attitude to another she seemed to float like a soft bright feather playing in a summer wind. every movement was living with the freedom which her yielding costume allowed. with the grace of the wind-bent reeds her white arms moved in ever-flowing harmony. now it was to draw the soft silken folds across her daintily, as with one tiny foot advanced she paused in the fitful measures of the dance; and now to raise her little hand to meet the king's with a magic motion, which seemed to waft her towards him. with each new figure the enchantment increased. in the voluptuous movement and the throb of the tinkling music she grew excited, and seemed to forget herself like a child at play. her ripe lips were parted, her cheeks softly flushed, and her wide blue eyes were filled with an artless look of baby delight. the whole patched and powdered throng crowded round to see, as close as the hoops would allow. soon each man and woman was as fascinated as the king. even the voice of envy was hushed, and some one said afterwards that more than one gentleman who was regarded as a likely nomination for the parliamentary chair was distinctly seen to smack his lips, a report perhaps which was quite unfounded, and arose merely out of the undisguised admiration depicted on every face. yes, on every face, both of man and woman, except the one which the marquis de tricotrin alone in all the room was scanning narrowly. behind the king's empty chair turbo supported himself, watching the scene uneasily. the marquis marked with concern and quiet determination the horrible snarl he wore. "she is dancing, step by step, step by step, right into his heart," said turbo to himself, his words falling unconsciously in time with the fiddlers, "and the fools made a lane for her to come to the throne--like a queen. it was ominous, but i hardly thought him so unstable. the simpleton is actually taking pains with his dancing." his lips moved. m. de tricotrin could hear nothing, but somehow he smiled quietly to himself. it was at that moment that turbo looked up to see what the marquis thought of it. their eyes met, and with the readiness of old diplomatists they advanced frankly to each other. "permit me, marquis," said turbo, smiling as nearly as he could, "to trespass so far on really sacred grounds as to observe that your daughter is charming." "you must positively allow me, chancellor," said the marquis, "to tell her what you say, at the risk of turning her head. it will be of inestimable help to her. she really knows nothing, and is quite afraid of her _gaucheries_." "indeed," answered turbo, "and she seemed so instructed! it only shows how rich an inheritance it is of itself to be the child of a man like you, who knows everything." "nay, chancellor," said the marquis, with a bow, "you flatter me monstrously. my knowledge is not what you think, but since you so frankly declare yourself my friend, i will confess to a pretty trick of guessing many things i have no means of knowing." the dance ended, and with it their conversation. it had not been long, but for those two it was enough to bring about a mutual understanding. each took it as a declaration of war, and began at once to look for vantage-points. before the end of the evening the king had danced another minuet with mademoiselle de tricotrin. she performed with even greater grace and _abandon_ than before, and her success was complete. the ball of course was a failure. it had promised exceedingly well, but then a great misfortune had befallen it. there had been one woman present who far outshone the rest. nothing can be much more disastrous to a ball than that. the nice women could not help feeling humbled, the others were full of envy. as for the men, they were inattentive, preoccupied, and discontented. for them it was an evening of disillusionment. mademoiselle de tricotrin's radiance killed the prettiest face in the room. it was impossible for them to disguise, even by the most desperate attempts at gallantry, that the whole time they were thinking of the new beauty. the women were pardonably resentful. under these circumstances gallantry is apt to lose much of its flavour, and the number of silent couples was phenomenal. mademoiselle de tricotrin left early, pleading fatigue. the king followed almost immediately, and then the ball collapsed. every one was glad to get away. for the women life was a blank till they had a gown like mademoiselle de tricotrin's. they had no interest in anything but how to procure one with the utmost speed. no one seemed to doubt for a moment that a complete change was to come over the court, and the de tricotrins were to lead the fashion. every man with any pretensions to style went away registering a determination to suborn the marquis's valet; and as the two strangers were carried to their lodging in the neighbourhood of the palace, perhaps there was no oneirian so happy as the queen-mother. "well, my child?" said the marquis interrogatively to his daughter, as soon as they were alone. "he is just the kind of man i expected to find," answered mademoiselle de tricotrin dreamily, as she leant back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. "then you will manage it?" "i cannot tell, sir." "but why not? let me tell you, my child, i am pleased with you. you never looked prettier. i am certain we shall succeed. why, the king was simply fascinated." "yes," she answered, a little wearily, "i know he was, but that goes a very little way with a man like him." chapter vi. the king's councillors. "and now he seeks which way to proove, how he his fancie might remoove." monsieur de tricotrin was right. the king had been fascinated. that was clear. it was the talk of every breakfast-table in oneiria. and mlle de tricotrin was right too. it made very little difference to the king, except to amuse him; but this was not so clear to the breakfast-tables. amused kophetua certainly was. it was highly entertaining to see how clever the little woman was. he quite laughed to himself to think how great an impression she had made on him, and he looked forward with a fresh pleasure to playing with a toy of such exquisite ingenuity, without giving a thought to the danger of the pastime. the mere fact that he was charmed he considered quite a sufficient safeguard. it was only a proof that she was a deeper cheat than the rest, and therefore more contemptible. and yet, somehow, this morning the wiles of women did not appear quite so detestable; he found himself wondering if there were not something to be said for them, when they could produce so delightful a result. he was sitting in the library pretending to transact business with turbo and dolabella, when his train of thought brought him for the twentieth time that morning to this same point, and with a half-unconscious desire for protection against what he knew to be a dangerous heresy, he addressed himself to his friends. "what a charming woman mlle de tricotrin would be," he said, "to any one who could not see through her!" the general started. he happened to have a piece of business that morning, but he was absent, and had made little progress: and now kophetua's voice suddenly awoke him to the mortifying fact that, with a view of ascertaining the value of a living which was under his consideration, he was unconsciously looking out "tricotrin" in the army list. turbo did not start at all. he had been watching the king, and expecting the remark for the last hour. "yes, she is certainly very pretty," said the general, with a confusion which was not bettered by his feeling immediately that he ought to have said something else. "that is assuredly the case, sire," said turbo, looking hard at the disconcerted general. "it is very fortunate we can all see through women so easily." "but she is clever, isn't she, general?" said the king, with a smile of amusement. "well, your majesty," replied the general, regaining his composure, "she might deceive more than a tiro, but to us it was evident from the first." "ah!" said turbo, with more than his ordinary sneer, "i knew what the general would be thinking when she shrank on her father's arm. it was very clumsy." "positively disgusting," cried the general, with great relief. at this moment a chamberlain announced that the marquis de tricotrin was at the palace, and awaited general dolabella's leisure. "i ventured last night," explained dolabella hurriedly, "to ask him to see the gardens; we were discussing a little question of tactics which i thought we might elucidate there at our leisure." "and was his daughter coming with him?" asked the king, with affected unconcern. "that is what is so annoying," the general answered. "you see he asked if he might bring her, and what could i say? it will be hopeless to settle the point this morning." "not at all, general," said turbo maliciously; "you could not have a better master in tactics than mlle de tricotrin." "yes," laughed the king, "you had better go at once. i excuse your further attendance." "what a child our general is!" said the king when he was gone. "now tell me what you thought of her, turbo. it always amuses me." so turbo told the king what he wanted the king to think. he was never more trenchant or merciless; but the more he reviled, the more clearly there came before the king's eyes the beautiful face and the baby look it wore when she seemed to forget herself in the dance. whether it was this, or whether it was that turbo was more brutal than usual, it matters little, but the king was not amused. the chancellor's coarse satire seemed particularly distasteful. he began to wish he had not started the subject. at last as he listened he noticed the founder's rapier was still lying on the table between them. that increased his discomfort. he looked up into the shadows under the morion, and then at his watch. it was time for his morning walk, and he descended by his private stair into the gardens. there was a long and trim grass alley where he was accustomed to take the air, and, plunged as he was in thought, he turned into it mechanically almost before he knew. the sound of women's voices aroused him, and he looked up to see a sight which convinced him that general dolabella's point in tactics was likely to be thoroughly discussed that morning after all. for from the end of the alley he saw his mother and mlle de tricotrin approaching. they were talking, but were too far for him to hear what they said, yet not so far but that he could see that the beauty looked if possible more beautiful than last night. she was dressed in the same kind of soft high-girdled gown, in strange contrast with the queen-mother's stiff brocades. her face glowed with freshness like a flower, and she seemed in the king's eyes more natural than nature itself, or at least than it was permitted to be in the gardens of the palace. for there nature was generously assisted, not merely with the trim clipping and rectilinear planting of our old english gardens. in oneiria they had advanced a long way beyond the ideas which the old knight brought with him: the inorganic kingdoms had been called in to supply the poverty of the organic, and vases and statues were there without number. as though to show nature what a mistake she had committed, the vases were made to look like shrubs and the shrubs like vases, and the long-legged statues seemed always in a gale of wind, while the trees looked as though a hurricane could not stir their rigidity. it is then little to be wondered at that mlle de tricotrin, in the midst of such surroundings, sustained the impression she had originally produced in the king's mind. she greeted him charmingly, so charmingly indeed, that he a little lost his presence of mind, and in trying to recover his composure he found himself kissing the queen-mother affectionately. it was difficult to say how it happened, unless it was that she looked so happy and motherly that morning. when it was over he was sufficiently himself again to notice that mlle de tricotrin was gazing at him with a look of admiration he had not noticed before; and it disturbed his balance once more that she did not lower her blue eyes when he caught her looking at him, but continued to watch him from under her long dark lashes while he made her his compliments. "it is fortunate we met," said the queen-mother, when the first few words were over. "i wanted to go in. it is too hot for me here. we were trying to find monsieur de tricotrin; but you can take my place now, kophetua." kophetua did not think it at all fortunate. in fact he was getting a little afraid of mlle de tricotrin. she had a disturbing effect upon him, but he could hardly refuse, especially since the queen-mother withdrew as she spoke and left them in the alley alone. they were some time in finding the marquis. in fact the marquis had seen everything from a terrace behind the trees, and had no intention of allowing himself to be found too soon. so the poor general, with rueful countenance, had to listen at painful length to certain invaluable military opinions which the marquis had acquired at second-hand. the king's conversation was certainly more pleasant. he soon regained his composure as they strolled along, and began to talk. "i am sure, sire," she said, after they had admired the garden a little, "you must be the one perfectly happy man in the world. till yesterday," she added, with something like a sigh, "i thought there was not even one." "and why do you think i am that one, mademoiselle?" asked the king. "because you have everything, sire." "but you forget i am a king." "no, sire. i remember it. i know kings should be the unhappiest men in the world while those they govern are so unhappy. in france a prince like you would be miserable, but it is different here where every one is so happy and none are oppressed, or poor, or wicked." "and do you think that should make me happy, mademoiselle?" "yes, sire, i know it must. had my ancestors handed me down a kingdom like yours, which they had purged of every evil, i should worship them every day." "and do you think that nothing more is needed--that it is enough to contemplate the happiness of my subjects?" "yes, sire, it is the highest happiness." "can you not think there may be something else a man may crave for, something still higher?" "is there something else?" she said looking up at him sympathetically. he paused before he answered. he did not like the way she was drawing him immediately to tell her his inmost thoughts; yet it was so pleasant--this strange, sympathetic power of the beautiful woman at his side, who was so frank and unaffected. it was somehow like talking to a man, and yet so widely different. he knew his next reply would place them on closer terms than he had ever been with a woman before. he hesitated, and then took the plunge. "i will tell you," he said, speaking with an earnestness which surprised him, and which he could not prevent. "that something else which is highest of all is to contemplate happiness, which you have wrought yourself. what is it to me that my people are contented, rich, and unoppressed? it is not my work. i could not even make them otherwise if i tried. it is my ancestors who have done it all. without a thought for those who were to come after they laid law to law, and ordinance to ordinance, till the whole was perfect. they tore up every weed, they smoothed down every roughness in their unthinking greed of well-doing. they strove unceasing to perfect their own nobility and gave no heed to me. see in what fetters they have bound my soul. all my life i have striven and denied myself that i might grow up a statesman in fact as well as name; that i might be a physician to my people, to detect and cure the most secret maladies that seize on nations, and stretch out my arm in such wide-reaching strokes as men see wondering, and say, 'there is a king of men.' but you are a woman," he said, suddenly dropping his inspired tone to one of no little bitterness, "and cannot understand what it is for a man to feel thus." "indeed, indeed, i understand," she cried, "and from my heart i pity you. i know what you would say. you who rise up and feel your strength to make a garden of the wilderness and see the work is done. i know all you mean. it was what the great voice of the wind said to me, when it had borne our galleon into port so bravely and roared out through the naked spars as we lay at anchor: 'see what a power is in me, but my work is done. you give no heed to the might that is going by, and i must pass on and consume my strength without an end.'" the king looked at her in wonder. it was a woman that spoke, but they were the words of more than a man. she understood all that he meant; nay, much that he had hardly grasped before. he was more disturbed than ever, and it was with difficulty he steadied his voice to speak. "then you can understand, mademoiselle," he said quite softly, "that i am perfectly miserable rather than perfectly happy?" "yes, sire," she said; "but such sorrow as yours is a better thing than other men's happiness." "yet it is none the less hard to bear." "true; but it is also the easier to change to gladness." "i do not understand; what do you mean?" "there is a remedy so simple that i hardly dare to tell your majesty. i have presumed too far in all this--yet forgive me, sire, if when i heard such words as yours, i forgot that i spoke with a king." "nay, tell me all. i desire to know." "it is then, sire," she said, looking down almost shyly, and speaking with some hesitation,--"it is, when the great things are done, to do the little things that are left undone. it is not given to all to do deeds that sound to the ends of the earth, but there are little things that a great man may do greatly so that they shall ring in the furthest heights of heaven." "what things are those? i do not understand." "perhaps i speak foolishly, yet i feel so strongly, that a man like you would be sure to find them if you sought." "but where--where am i to seek?" "amongst your people. if you were to go down to them so that they might not know you, you would find wrongs to right, wrongs that are little in the eyes of man but great before heaven. then you would know in your heart that the greatest acts are those which are done with the loftiest purpose and by the greatest soul." "you would have me a very haroun-al-raschid," he said, with a laugh, for he felt that their talk was getting dangerously elevated, and he was ashamed of his weakness in letting it go so far. "and why not?" she answered, smiling, as though her mood had changed with his. "what monarch had a happier life or left a happier memory behind him? and it is for the little things that he is remembered. but i see my father," she added, "i need detain your majesty no longer." with the prettiest curtsey in the world she left him, and kophetua returned to his apartments with his peace of mind considerably disturbed. the whole day he was the prey of the most conflicting thoughts, but above all to the humiliating conviction that he had been saying to this bewitching frenchwoman things which he had never breathed in his life to any one but turbo, his bosom friend. the idea she had suggested was fascinating enough. it would be very pleasant to try, and to tell her of his success afterwards; and at all events an excitement of any kind would be good for him, and serve to get her out of his mind a little. which of these considerations weighed most with him perhaps he hardly knew himself. he made and unmade his mind fifty times before nightfall; but still it is certain that as the moon rose trecenito found himself stealing out of the private entrance of his gardens with his hair dishevelled and unpowdered, and his person concealed with a wide slouch hat, and a voluminous cloak or burnouse which he used on his hunting expeditions. chapter vii. the liberties of st. lazarus. "he saw a beggar all in gray." it has been said already that the beggar class in oneiria enjoyed peculiar and extensive privileges. it was a factor in the oneirian polity, that one would hardly have expected to find, and its existence would be hard to explain were it not for a passage in a memoir, which the founder left behind him, as an exposition of the motives which led him to adopt some of the more unusual provisions of the constitution. the style is no less crabbed and tortuous than it is usual to find at the time, but it is none the less interesting as giving us a glimpse into the old knight's habit of thought. "forasmuch," it runs, "as the riches of this world have been bestowed on us, not for each man's ease and delight, which is the seedbed of sloth and gluttony, but rather for the perfecting of our natures by charity and almsgiving, whereby we are made partakers of all christian virtue; so at the first i was shrewdly exercised how this medicine should be furnished for men's souls in a state where none should want. the [missing word] which fears at last brought me to draw into one body all the useless and most outlandish of my people, to whom all manner of work should be forbidden, that a guild of beggars might be made, to be a receptacle for all that was imperfectable in the community, whereby, as it appeared to me, i could make such men, as were otherwise useless and noxious to the state, useful citizens in respect that they would serve as a whetstone to the virtue of the rest, and, as it were, lay up for my garden a dung-heap or midden, which though itself is stinking and full of corruption, yet being dug in in season, bringeth up a plenteous growth of most sweet flowers and wholesome herbs." the dung-heap commenced on these philosophical lines grew amazingly, and on the whole to the general health and cleanliness. everything that had gone bad in the state drained into it by a natural process, and the resulting mass of human garbage which had collected at the time of which we are speaking thoroughly deserved the evil reputation it had earned. yet no one thought of interfering with it. a quarter of the city and a secluded valley into which it sloped away had been assigned to the guild by the founder, and as long as it did not exceed its boundaries it was allowed to go on gathering, festering and growing. a certain number of the beggars were permitted to exercise their profession at the palace gates, otherwise it was all kept out of sight. private people congratulated themselves on the excellent social drainage it afforded, and lived as if they did not know of its existence. they avoided the subject, gave their annual alms, and enjoyed the virtue so purchased till the time came round for laying in another stock. as for the government, it behaved in much the same way as the citizens. every year it handed its donation from the central fund to the "emperor" of the guild, as he was called, and suffered him to make and administer his own laws within the liberties without any inquiry or interference. it was whispered that some of these laws were of the most barbarous kind, and when people remembered what a conglomeration of nationalities, both savage and civilised, the guild represented, they, as a rule, changed the conversation, as if they were afraid to think what loathsome poisons might have been produced by the fermenting together of so much heterogeneous matter. it was only natural then that kophetua should wend his way to the beggars' quarter. it had been instituted by the founder for the increase of virtue, and he determined to seek in the reeking dung-heap for the elements to make fertile the soul he felt so barren within him. moreover, as soon as the idea suggested itself, he began to see very clearly that the dung-heap had grown to a great wrong that was worthy of his best efforts to put right. he even confessed to himself that he had been aware of this for a long time, but either from cowardice or indolence he had refused to allow his dreaming to stiffen into a purpose. he always dismissed the idea almost before it was conceived, and fell back again into his old colourless life with its never-changing round of banalities and affectation. with each relapse his selfishness and cynicism grew more hard. it only wanted one great effort to stir his barren soul, and one brave grapple with sin and hideousness, to make all his heroism spring up in a harvest of golden grain. he knew that well enough in his better moments, yet he dreamed the dream and awoke, and was selfish and cynical and indolent still. but now he was aroused at last. he was ashamed to think whose voice it was that had awakened him. he wished it had been any other. still, he strode on under the shadow of the houses with a lighter heart than he had known for many years. and yet it was not without misgiving that he plunged into the liberties of st. lazarus, as the beggars' quarter was called. it had an evil name, and his life had been so smooth that except in the chase he had never known what danger was. strange tales were told of what had befallen men who had unwarily entered the quarter, and it was with a beating heart that he passed the great "beggars' gate." he was no sooner past the barrier, however, than he saw before him a sight which drove everything else from his mind. hurrying up the street in front of him was an ungainly, limping figure, which it was impossible to mistake. that gait could be none but turbo's. what could it mean? where could he be going? kophetua drew closer under the shadow of the houses and followed. turn after turn the chancellor took till he seemed to be seeking the very bowels of the liberty, and kophetua began to feel it would be hard to find his way out again. every now and then they passed a beggar, but the king only drew his hat more closely down and hurried on. at last turbo stopped at a little door in what seemed the wall of a court or garden, and after looking round stealthily to see if he were followed he entered. kophetua walked quickly to the door, which the chancellor had carefully closed after him. once there, he knew he had made no mistake, and understood at last the strange interest his chancellor always took in the beggars at the palace gate. "nay, my pretty lump of foulness, do not avoid me," he heard turbo's mocking voice say; "i have found you alone this time, and you must come perforce." "stand back! stand back!" gasped a woman's voice; "i will cry out and alarm them." "you dare not, foul sweetheart," said turbo; "you know too well the penalty when one of you is found with one of us. nay, do not struggle so. there's no escape to-night." there was a low choking cry of horror, and kophetua burst open the door. at first he saw no one. he found himself in a little court behind a dilapidated house. across the end where he stood ran a verandah in deep shadow. the noise of his entrance had hushed every sound. he could see nothing nor hear anything but his beating heart, when suddenly he was aware that a dark shadow had glided out of the verandah and had slipped by him through the door. then in the far end he heard a low moan, and saw as he approached what seemed a heap of dirty rags lying in a corner, but he knew directly it was the lifeless form of a woman. she did not move when he touched her, so he carried her out and laid her down in the bright moonlight to see what ailed her. very tenderly he rested her head on his knee and bent over the motionless form to feel for life in it. it was not without disgust that he did so, for it was only a beggar-girl he could see now, and she was no cleaner than her kind. her face and hands were covered with dirt, her thick dark hair was matted and unkempt, and the rags that covered her were filthy beyond description. yet her face looked so pale and careworn and delicate that he forgot all her foulness in his pity, and tried his best to revive her. at last she sighed deeply, and opened her eyes. they were large and dark and trustful, and they looked straight up into his with a strange wonder; so long and earnestly did she gaze at him with her far-off look, that he felt a sort of fascination coming over him, and began to think how every one said the beggars were half of them witches. it was a great relief to see a dreamy smile lighting up her wan face. she stretched up her hands to him, and then dropped them as though she was too weak or too happy for anything but to lie as she was. "are you the great god?" she whispered, "or only an angel?" "lie still, child, a little," he said tenderly; "i am only human like yourself." "only a man!" she whispered with increasing wonder in her great dark eyes. "i thought i was dead and lay in god's lap. they say i shall, some day when my misery is done; but if you are a man, he will be too beautiful for me. let me lie here a little where i am and dream again." she closed her eyes, but they seemed still to look at him. he could not forget them. it was like a spell. he could not think of anything but them, and he let her lie while he gathered his straying thoughts. "are you better?" he asked, when she moved again. "try and sit up. i cannot stay here long." "ah! i remember," she said, with a shudder. "it was you who came in when he seized me, and i prayed for help, and then,--then i forget. yes, you must go away and leave me." "but i must see you in the house first." "no, no; i cannot go in to-night. father was angry and beat me when i came in, and said i must stay on the stones all night because i had brought nothing home. i could not help it. they pushed me when trecenito scattered the alms at the gate, and i could get none. and yet if i stay here, perhaps the man will come back." "do you know who it was?" "yes, the ugly man that i saw at the palace window. he followed me here once before and tried to make me go with him. but father came out, and he ran away. oh, he is very wicked," she said, with another shudder. "he is not like you." she lay back again peacefully on kophetua's knee, and closed her eyes as if she would swoon again, but a noise in the house disturbed her almost directly. "it is father. fly, fly for your life!" she cried, starting up. as she spoke, a tall beggar rushed out from the verandah with a long knife in his hand and made straight at kophetua. the girl with a wild cry threw herself before the man and clasped his knees, crying again, "fly, fly for your life!" and ere he well knew what he was doing, kophetua had availed himself of the respite and was running down the street. he had not gone far, however, before he began to think what a bad beginning he was making to run away just as the danger commenced. then those trusting eyes seemed to be looking at him again and calling him back. so he stopped, determined to return and rescue her from her father's fury. but now he was aware he had entirely lost his way. still he would not give up his purpose, and cursing himself for his cowardice, wandered through street after street, it seemed for hours, and was then as far as ever from finding what he sought. exhausted with his efforts, from time to time he sat down to rest and think which direction could be right. many beggars passed him, but he dared not speak to one. again and again he started up and walked on once more. his blood was up, and he was determined not to leave the girl to her fate. he knew life would be unendurable if he returned without redeeming his cowardice. at last, at the end of a narrow lane, he emerged into a square where was a building larger than any he had seen before, and all ablaze with light. many beggars were going into it, and, hardly knowing why, he joined himself to one of the tattered groups and went in too. he found himself directly in a great hall surrounded by a filthy crowd. at first he could see nothing but the smoke-blackened roof and the torches that flared all round. but presently in an eddy of the throng he was carried beside a rough wooden table on which men were standing. one of them looked down, and holding out a grimy hand invited him to get up beside him. once there, he could see all over the great chamber. all round the walls was a mass of beggars packed close on floor and forms and tables, and dressed in every tattered costume under heaven, from east to west. arab and jew, frank and berber, all were there and every hybrid between, and the lurid torchlight lit up a pile of faces as evil as sin itself. at the further end was a raised platform, supporting a great high-backed chair which was ablaze with gilding and colour lately renewed. it formed the strangest contrast to the dirt and gloom and rottenness with which it was surrounded, but even stranger was the incongruity of its occupant. for upon it sat a little brown wizened man, so old that he hardly seemed alive, except in his restless eyes. his long white hair and beard straggled thinly over him and formed his only covering, except for a filthy waist-cloth, and a chaplet of gold-pieces which served for a crown. he was not sitting in the european manner, but had drawn up his skinny brown legs on to the gilded seat, and was squatting like an oriental. indeed, the whole scene savoured rather of the east than the west. the architecture was moorish, and the tawdry throne was framed in a horseshoe arch. turbans were more numerous than any other head-dress, and the front rows of the throng squatted on the dirty floor watching unmoved the scene that was being enacted before them. yet it was moving enough. in the midst before the throne was an open grave, newly dug in the mud floor. beside it two men were stripping as though for a fight. as soon as they were ready they stood up knife in hand and salaamed to the emperor, for such kophetua knew he must be. then came a shrill sound from the throne, like the voice of a heron, and every murmur was hushed. "know all men," it cried, "why the high court of st. lazarus sits to-night. it sits for treason to the ancient guild; it sits on one who is unchaste with the gentiles. it sits on penelophon, daughter of ramlak. to-night she was found in the arms of her lover who came from the city. it is sin worthy of death. it is worthy the worst of deaths. yet dannok her brother maintains the charge is false, and will do battle for his sister with him on whom the lot of blood has fallen, the champion of st. lazarus." kophetua's heart sank within him as the monotonous words fell slowly on his ear. something told him that penelophon must be the girl he had come to rescue; but how to do it now! with terrible anxiety he watched the combatants take their places opposite each other. behind each of them were two others, each armed, like the champions, with long knives. it was an awful scene to one who had lived the life of kophetua, where all that was ugly or painful had long been refined away. the heat and stench made him feel sick and weak, so that the open grave and the knives, and the brown old emperor crouching in the gilded throne, seemed to weigh him down like a horrible dream. "let penelophon be brought forth to stand her trial!" the shrill voice died away again. a door opened by the daïs, there was a movement in the throng, and breathless with dread kophetua watched to see what would come. the crowd opened, and his life seemed to freeze up with horror. he tried to cry out, but no sound came. he shut his eyes to keep out the sight; but it was useless, he could not choose but look. there, between two hideous hags, walked what seemed the corpse of the girl he had tried to save. he knew her again though she was so changed. they had washed her clean as the body that is laid out for burial; they had wrapped her in grave-clothes, and her luxuriant dark hair hung down, combed and silky, over the white shroud like a pall. yet he knew her. that wan face, the dark, trusting eyes he could never forget. it was she whom he had tried to befriend. it was she whom he had deserted. this was the end of his first attempt. she was to die the worst of deaths. she was to be buried alive! and all depended on the skill of the stripling who was already sparring before the champion of st. lazarus. they were long before they closed, and kophetua watched breathlessly. suddenly they were together and there was a flash and clink of steel, and the lad sprang back. on his shoulder was a streak of blood; but before the king had well seen it, the two men behind leaped upon the wounded boy and plunged their knives into his back. such was the fierce law of combat in the liberties of st. lazarus. the first blood showed the right, and death was the portion of him who fought for the wrong. it was over, and penelophon must die. without ceremony the seconds seized her brother's naked body and threw it into the open grave. then the two hags began to drag their charge to it in her turn. she looked round wildly, her eyes staring with terror. kophetua, in his intense anxiety, had worked himself to the front; and their eyes met. she started, and her horror changed to the look of wonder he had seen when first her eyes opened and gazed into his. he knew she was thinking her guardian angel was come again. it was more than he could bear. forgetting everything, he leaped down into the open space, tore her from the hags, and stood with the shroud-clad figure in his arms, bidding her fear nothing. "it is the gentile lover," proclaimed the same monotonous cry of the shrivelled emperor. "he has come to lie in the same grave with his shameless love. seize him, and make ready!" "you dare not!" cried kophetua, as he threw back his cloak and hat. "stand back! see! it is i, kophetua the king." there was a murmur of "trecenito" through the throng, and the men who were come to obey the emperor's orders fell back. "we know no king in the liberties but the emperor," droned the old man, quite undisturbed. "seize him, and prepare him for the grave!" "stand back!" cried poor kophetua, "you dare not lay hands on me. think what your fates will be when my people hear of it." "they will never hear of it," chanted the emperor. "no one saw you come hither." "yes, turbo, my chancellor, saw me," cried the king, growing alarmed. "and he wishes your death, that he may reign in your stead," the voice droned on without a change of note. "seize them, and put them together in limbo for a foretaste of the narrower chamber that is to come, while the grave-clothes are prepared and another grave is dug; for now the dead shall lie alone. away with them now, and fear not. the emperor is greater than the king, and sultan death than both." he ended in a shrill scream of mocking laughter, while kophetua was seized and hurried along, powerless to resist. while the devilish merriment still rang out they thrust him in at the door whence the beggar-maid had been brought. her they pushed in after him, and the door closed with a hollow clang. as soon as kophetua could collect his thoughts sufficiently to look about him, he found himself shut in a narrow chamber, in every way adapted for a prison. one small window, about his own height from the ground, was the only outlet to the open air, and it was heavily barred. the moonlight streamed through it and poured a flood of silvery light about a stone bench in a recess on the opposite side. there his eyes rested at last immovably; for there sat the beggar-maid swathed in her shroud, and shining so white and ghostly in the moonbeams that she seemed no living thing. she sat upright, gazing before her with her wondering eyes as though she only half understood what had happened. and kophetua wondered too--wondered to see how beautiful she was now her foulness was washed away. he knew the face well; where had he seen it? it must have been in his dreams. so he stood in the deep shadow watching and wondering and listening to the click of the spade and mattock, as the beggars dug the grave he was to share with the living corpse before him. it was indeed, as the emperor had said, a foretaste of the tomb. presently she turned her dark gaze on him. it was terrible to see the death-like thing looking at him, and he shuddered, but her soft voice reassured him. "i knew my angel would come down and save me again," she murmured. "when will you take me away? i am ready to go now; dannok is dead, and i have no one left." poor child! he dared not speak and break her dream. he only watched her still, and then it flashed on him what face it was. it was in the old picture in his library he had seen it, the same wan delicate features, the same black hair waving so smooth and even over the snowy forehead. he had often wondered how a painter could have chosen such a face to fascinate a king. now he saw it in the flesh he wondered no longer, but gazed his fill, and listened to the click of the grave-diggers. "must we wait very long?" murmured the beggar-maid again. "i am very weary, and crave for rest." "my child, my child!" cried kophetua, unable any longer to restrain himself, "i cannot save you. it is i that have ruined you, and we are going to lie side by side in the same dark grave." as he spoke he went to her, and in spite of his half-superstitious awe of the ghostly figure he took her in his arms, as though he would kiss away the new horror from her face; but he started back immediately, pale as herself. the click of spade and mattock had ceased, heavy footsteps sounded at the door, and the key rattled in the lock. chapter viii. escape, but not liberty. "the which did cause his paine." the door did not open at once, and kophetua stood with his arm about his ghostly companion listening to the muttered curses of the men without. there seemed to be something amiss with the lock. fiercely they rattled the key, and every moment the prisoners expected to hear the bolt fly back. "see, see," whispered penelophon, suddenly pointing to the window, "i knew you would save me; why did you frighten me so?" kophetua looked up, and saw a stout pole had been thrust in between the bars of the window-grating, and that some one was using it as a lever to try and tear them out. "leap out both," cried a low disguised voice outside, "the moment it gives." the pole strained again and the key grated; and now the shrill voice of the shrivelled emperor could be heard screaming from his gilded throne and bidding his men make haste. the bars groaned and bent, but they were still tough, and would not give. the lock rattled each moment more savagely; the scream of the emperor grew more angry; the suspense was becoming almost unendurable, when, with a sudden crash, the whole window-grating fell outwards. there was a sound of feet hurrying away, and then all was silent without. but now a heavy hammer was clanging with deafening noise upon the broken lock, and between each stroke rose the scream of the frenzied monarch, so piercing that it seemed to kophetua to half paralyse him, as he grasped the window-sill and strove to draw himself up. it was a desperate struggle, for he was unused to such exercise; but it was done at last, and he sat astride the stone sill, and held out his hands to penelophon. she seemed quite calm, and looked up in his face trustfully, as he in a fever of excitement began to pull her up. two hammers were now banging rhythmically on the door, and the din of their ponderous blows was almost incessant, and yet the awful scream of anger was not drowned. but the tough old lock still held; and it was not till kophetua, more dead than alive, had dropped to the ground, and had caught the beggar-maid in his arms, that the clangour ceased in a deafening crash, and they knew that the door was burst. they did not stop to hear more. as soon as the gaolers dare tell their frantic monarch of the escape the pursuit would begin. no sooner indeed did her feet touch the ground than penelophon seized the king's hand, and began running down a labyrinth of tortuous passages as fast as the clinging grave-clothes would allow. the king was hardly less agitated than before. they could hear the shout of the beggars as the pursuit began; but in five minutes all was over, and the king and the beggar-maid ran out hand-in-hand through the great gate by which he had entered. still they did not stop. kophetua could not feel sure after what he had seen of their power and numbers that the beggars would not carry the pursuit beyond the limits of the liberty. so he hurried on still without resting till he had let himself in at the private entrance to the palace gardens. once inside he threw himself on a bench, exhausted with fatigue and excitement, and the beggar-maid sank at his feet. the adventure was over, and he would think quietly what was next to be done. the thought seemed hardly framed when kophetua awoke to the consciousness that he had been asleep. how long he knew not. the dawn was just beginning to glimmer as he opened his eyes, and he started up terror-stricken to see a corpse stretched at his feet. then he remembered it all, and began to realise his position. it was certainly sufficiently embarrassing. he, the king of oneiria, was sitting in his own garden with a beggar-maid, dressed like a corpse, in his charge. what was he to do with her? she too had fallen asleep, and was lying outstretched upon her back like an effigy on a tomb. her arms lay listlessly, with palms upturned, just as they had dropped on either side of her. her head was resting on the roots of a tree, and was turned gently towards him. out of the dark masses of her hair, which lay littered over the white grave-clothes, her face glimmered wan and pale in the ashen light. so still and peaceful and deathlike was the picture that, save for the gentle breathing, it might indeed have been the sleep that knows no waking. he sat with his chin in his hand looking at her. yes, she was very beautiful. those features were cast in the same exquisite mould which in the picture had seemed to him to tell of nothing but inanity, but now he saw it in the flesh it spoke of that divine purity, strength, and tenderness which the angels are given. it was a beauty of holiness that seemed to sanctify him as he gazed. he felt himself ennobled that he could distinguish it. but where could he take her? assuredly most men would call that face from which all sensuality and the earthly parts of beauty had been refined away inane. they were too gross to see what real beauty was. general dolabella would certainly call it inane. general dolabella! that was an idea. general dolabella was certainly the only person of his acquaintance to whom he felt it was possible for him to bring a young girl dressed in grave-clothes, the first thing in the morning, and ask him to take care of her. in the reaction which his rest had brought about he began to feel ashamed of his quixotic enterprise, and to see his position in the ridiculous light. he fancied what the wits would say if they heard of it, what smart things would be current at his expense; and he laughed cynically at himself that he of all men should have been deluded into an attempt to resuscitate so dead and false a thing as chivalry. just then penelophon cried out in her sleep, and awoke with a restless start. her eyes opened, she seized the shroud convulsively in her hands to look closely at it, and then, with a choking cry of horror, covered her face and fell back. kophetua was on his knees at her side in a moment. he took her hands from her eyes, and tried to comfort her. "look up, penelophon," said he, very tenderly. "it was only a dream." "where am i?" she cried wildly. "it was so dark and cold in the grave when they covered me up. ah!" she went on, with the same trusting look coming back as at first, "i remember, they did not bury me. you saved me. shall i go with you now?" she stretched her arms to him, and he lifted her up. she was very cold, and so was he; but he took off his cloak and tried to repress a shiver as he wrapped it about her and drew the hood over her head. "yes, if you can," he said; "i want to put you where kind people will keep you safe." she staggered when she tried to walk, being still weak with the shock she had had, and stiff with cold; so he put his arm about her, and supported her towards the gate which led from the opposite side of the gardens into general dolabella's official residence. the servants were just astir, and there was little difficulty in getting in, when kophetua explained that he must see the minister at once on urgent business of state. it is true they hardly knew what to make of the king's sudden appearance, with his haggard face and dishevelled and unpowdered hair; but his manner was so sharp and peremptory that they were too glad to show him and his charge to the minister's private room with all possible speed, and it was not many minutes more before the general himself hurried in in his nightcap and flowered dressing-gown. "god preserve us, sire!" said he, starting back to see the haggard spectacle the king presented after the horrors he had gone through, "what has happened? it is most alarming. let me send at once for the adjutant-general or the archbishop! which department is it?" "calm yourself, my dear general," said the king a little nervously; "it is nothing of any consequence--at least, that is, not at present. later in the day i will see you with the adjutant-general. now i merely wish you to take charge of a person, whom i have saved--it matters not how--from a very awkward position. i wished for secrecy and fidelity, and, above all, no idle curiosity, so i came to you." "your majesty does me a great honour," said the general, with a profound bow. "i presume this is the gentleman beside you. i need hardly say i shall be proud to offer him an asylum as long as it can be of any service to him or your majesty." penelophon was still wrapped in the burnouse, and in the dim morning light it was impossible to see her plainly. the mistake only made the king more nervous still. he had hoped the explanation was over, and now he had to begin again. "that is like your kind heart," he answered, with some hesitation. "but it is only right to tell you, you are mistaken in thinking this is a gentleman." "oh!" said the general, with a very wise nodding of his head, "it is a lady we have rescued. now i understand the case." "pardon me, general," said the king testily, "but you understand nothing of the kind. it is not a lady at all. it is a beggar-maid." "forgive me, sire," answered the general, with some dignity. "i could hardly have been expected to have grasped the situation. it is a delicate office for a married man; but your majesty knows my devotion, and of course i will conceal her, as well as i can, till you can otherwise bestow her." "but that is not what i want," said the king, growing more and more vexed. "don't you see? it is an unfortunate girl i have rescued from the most atrocious cruelty. she needs protection, and i desire that your wife shall take her into her service." "really, your majesty," cried the general, in great perturbation, "it is--well, not impossible; that is a word i will not allow myself to use in a question of serving your majesty. but consider what my wife--i mean, consider what it is to request the director of public worship to introduce such a person into the bosom of his family." "general dolabella," replied the king coldly, "you do not believe me. you permit yourself to doubt the word of your sovereign. very well, i will convince you that what i say is true, and that this poor girl is without reproach." with a vague idea that he would at once make the general grasp the whole case, he stepped to penelophon and drew off the burnouse that covered her, leaving her standing motionless and deathlike in her clinging grave-clothes and dark pall of hair, a pale and ghastly figure in the sickly morning light. the effect upon the minister was startling. he sank back thunderstruck into the chair behind him. his jaw dropped, his eyes stared wildly, and beads of perspiration came out on his forehead. "excuse me, sire," he said faintly, when he was a little recovered. "you see i am a little shocked. i was not prepared to see the lady in fancy dress. it is very pretty; but i confess i was not quite prepared for it. i shall be better directly." "i am sorry to alarm you," said the king, "but pray oblige me by not referring to this poor girl as a lady again. you see the story i have told you is obviously true. it is strange, but i cannot just now go into details of how she came to be in this costume, which i admit is unusual. at present all i ask from you is very simple. procure her a suitable dress from one of your own women servants, introduce her to your wife as a young person who has been highly recommended to you as a desirable maid for her, of course without mentioning my name. she cannot refuse, and all i ask is done." "but, your majesty," pleaded the poor general, "you hardly appreciate--my wife--i mean our domestic relations, particularly at this moment,--i assure your majesty it is a most delicate application you ask me to make, and one capable of painful misinterpretation." "very well," said the king sharply; "i understand you to refuse my request. i regret my confidence was so misplaced. hitherto i had not doubted your devotion." "but, your majesty----" began dolabella. "silence, sir," said kophetua sharply. "enough has been said. with pain--with considerable pain i must put you to the trouble of receiving my orders as high constable of the kingdom." it was a sinecure office the general enjoyed as commander-in-chief. he stood up at once and saluted, trying to look in his night-cap and flowered dressing-gown as constable-like as under the circumstances was attainable. "i place this woman under arrest to you," continued the king. "you will keep her in solitary confinement, so far as is consistent with her kind treatment. above all, you will let no one see her, and you will produce her person when called upon. kindly draft a warrant, and i will sign it at once. i believe my orders are plain?" he added, as the high constable hesitated. "perfectly," moaned dolabella lugubriously, and sat down to write. meanwhile penelophon, who at last was beginning dimly to grasp that her angel was really trecenito himself, was gazing from one to the other in hopeless wonder without speaking. the warrant was done. kophetua signed it, drew his burnouse about him, and left the room without another word. penelophon looked after him wistfully, and then sat down and began to cry. "i am very sorry, sir," she said, "to be here, if you do not want me." "there, there! my dear," said the soft-hearted general petulantly. "there is no need to cry. it is no fault of yours. only you place me in a very painful position. you cannot understand, because you do not know madame dolabella. she is a most charming motherly person, but unhappily a woman to whom it will be an extremely delicate task to explain why i, a father of a family, am holding a _tête-à-tête_ in my study the first thing in the morning with a corpse--or what is a corpse to all intents and purposes, only worse. she is not so used to that kind of thing as some people. i must get you a more decent dress at once, and some breakfast. you look very hungry." and therewith the general gathered the skirts of his flowered dressing-gown around him and shuffled off in his slippers, carefully locking the door behind him. kophetua reached his apartments in no enviable frame of mind. he was angry with the general and angry with himself. he felt it was a piece of cowardice to compel his minister to undertake a duty he was afraid of himself. he was determined to provide for penelophon elsewhere as soon as possible. but how was it to be done? if general dolabella would not accept his assurance of the girl's innocence and danger, who would? it was impossible to explain the case to any one. to begin with, he was heartily ashamed of the whole adventure, and then such heavy considerations of state were involved in it. it must entail, in the first place, the unpleasant confession that he was not king in his own dominions. the beggars had been suffered to grow into an uncontrollable power; and, until he could concert measures with the general staff for the concentration of a considerable force in the capital, it was clear that the subject must not be mentioned, especially as there was the further complication of turbo, and the extraordinary part he had played in the matter. it was absolutely necessary to know what position the chancellor would take before any move could be made; and how he was to arrive at that kophetua could not for the life of him think. it was certainly a situation, and one which would require all his statesmanship to deal with. at last, he admitted, he was face to face with a difficulty of the kind he had longed for all his life. he was aware of a great danger, a great wrong in the state which must be remedied; yet, so he argued to himself, it was impossible to enjoy the position because it was so mixed up with ridiculous personal considerations. had it only been a plain question of politics, he felt he would have been equal to it, and would have rejoiced in grappling with its difficulties. as it was, he would have given anything if he had only stayed at home that night; and as he cast himself exhausted on his bed for a little rest, there was no one he hated so much as beautiful mlle de tricotrin, who had been clever enough to wheedle him into making such a fool of himself for the mere pleasure of winning her good opinion. whatever happened, he determined she should not know he had been weak enough to act on the advice he had allowed her to give, and so afford her a still better hold on him than she had already obtained by his stupid confidences. chapter ix. in the queen's garden. "what sudden chance is this? quoth he, that i to love must subject be, * * * * but still did it defie." in the afternoon following the morning of kophetua's adventure the queen-mother was sitting in her little garden pavilion, and at her feet was curled mlle de tricotrin reading to her in the prettiest of soft white gowns, and the prettiest of natural attitudes. it was a strange little building, which the queen had christened the temple of sensibility. it was perhaps more like a greek temple than most things, but more strictly speaking it belonged to that style of architecture which reached its culmination in the valentines and burial cards of fifty years ago. the queen was very fond of it. it stood in a quiet corner of that part of the palace gardens which was set apart for her private use, and she had lavished considerable thought and taste in the interior decoration. the walls were covered with vast architectural perspectives produced almost to infinity, so that the little place seemed to be the focus on which all the draughts of a vast and airy hall were concentrated, and at various points fat little cupids were apparently trying to anchor themselves to the columns by wreaths of roses, as though in fear of being blown out of the composition. the effect was cool, but not cosy; yet the queen was very fond of it, and had brought mlle de tricotrin thither with the air of one who has a great favour to bestow. they were already fast friends. the queen-mother was of an affectionate nature, and was starving for an object on which her affection could feed. as has been said, she was thoroughly german, and shared the characteristics of the educated and refined german lady of her time. it was a mixture we seldom see nowadays. on one side she was homely and practical, on the other highly imaginative and dreamy. she cannot perhaps be better expressed than in terms of her tastes. the queen-mother had a passion for needlework and transcendental philosophy. oddly enough, mlle de tricotrin had quite a pretty taste in them too. at her new friend's first entry into the ballroom the queen had certainly been a little shocked. it was impossible not to regard her costume as a little immodest; but when she began to dance, and margaret saw how pretty and childish and unaffected she was, and how, above all, she seemed to charm the stony heart of the king, she began to recognise in mlle de tricotrin the simple, well-brought-up, and beautiful girl of whom she had heard so hopefully from the governor of the canaries. a very few words which passed between the two women the night of the ball and on the following morning had been enough to bring the heart-sick woman under the spell as much as anybody else. the result was an invitation and the present visit to the temple of sensibility. mlle de tricotrin admired the embroidery, and asked if she could help. beside the queen-mother's chair stood a large grinning monster from china, blue and hideous. he was a great pet of margaret's, and she showed her affection by using him as a book-rest. mlle de tricotrin saw a volume of german philosophy resting on his paws, and began to express her admiration of the author in terms that would be for our ears a little high-flown and sentimental. thus in a very few minutes the impression she had already created was more than confirmed. with new-born happiness the queen accepted her offer to read, and now as she worked and listened to the musical voice, she was entranced as much by the sound as the sense that filled her ears. "ah," said the queen, as the reader paused after a passage of great beauty, "why must material bodies so clog our spirit that it cannot rise to the places which these great men point out to us?" "but indeed it can, madam," said the beauty. "i do not remember my soul's prison when i read such words as these. i forget all that is tainted with matter, and seem to float up and down in the highest empyrean, with the bright spirits that are wafted by on the breath of the song the angels sing." "then indeed you are blessed," the queen answered; "but such freedom can never be mine. i am chained by a sin to the body of death, and may not melt into the eternal till my fetters are broken. but you have never lost the freedom which purity alone can give. and yet," she continued, smiling sadly, and laying her hand on the girl's soft heap of hair, "i wonder your soul likes to leave the dwelling-place which god has made so fair for it. you are very, very pretty, my child!" mlle de tricotrin looked up in the queen's face. the sad eyes were moist with tears, and were looking down at her so lovingly that she could not help taking in hers the thin hand that had been caressing her, and kissing it reverently. "ah! madam," she said, so earnestly and sadly that the queen was quite surprised at the change of her tones, "what might i have been if i had had a mother like you to guide me! but my mother died before i can remember." "that is a hard thing for a girl," answered the queen, "and you have fought your way alone bravely. yes, it is hard, but is not my lot harder still? what might my lonely life have been with a daughter like you to warm and brighten it? but i have no child--i have no child." "but you have the king!" "no, he is not mine. he is hard and cold, and thinks of nothing but himself." "indeed your majesty does him wrong," cried mlle de tricotrin eagerly. "he is not what you say. he spoke so differently to me when--when we were alone in the garden." the last words she said with some hesitation and in a low sweet voice, and, looking down, pretended to arrange the folds of her soft gown with the prettiest embarrassment as she went on, "he told me of his lofty aspirations, how he longed to do some great thing for his people, how miserable he was at the hollow life he led--o madam! believe me, he has a noble heart." "and he told all this to you?" said the queen, between surprise and delight. "yes, and much more," answered her companion, looking up with a frank, innocent look which seemed ignorant of how much her words meant. so frank and innocent indeed were her eyes, that for a moment margaret doubted. she put her hands on the soft hair once more, and gazed steadfastly upon the lovely face that was upturned to her; it was a look which searched deep, it was a look hard to be borne, till the sad eyes of the widow grew dim with tears. then the queen-mother bent down and kissed mlle de tricotrin very, very tenderly. their further conversation was interrupted by an attendant announcing that the king was without, and desired to know whether the queen could receive him. it was a very long time since the poor mother had had such a request made to her by her son. so great a coldness had gradually grown up between them that they hardly ever met except on public occasions. they had come so entirely to misunderstand each other that private interviews between them at last became so constrained as to be quite painful to both. it was then with a flush of surprise and pleasure that she ordered him to be admitted at once, and some impulse or other which she did not stop to analyse prompted her to press mlle de tricotrin's hand affectionately as they rose to receive the visitor. "good day, madam," said kophetua, with a shade of annoyance passing over his handsome face at the sight of mlle de tricotrin. "i had thought to find you alone!" "shall mlle de tricotrin retire?" asked the queen. it was impossible to hesitate. he would have liked to say "yes," but that would seem to give a mystery to his errand, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid. besides, it would seem rude, and then she really looked very sweet in her soft white gown and tangled brown hair. so he bowed profoundly, and begged that mlle de tricotrin would do him the honour of remaining. "are you not well, kophetua?" asked the queen anxiously. "you look pale and tired; have you not slept?" "i thank you, madam, i am in perfect health," answered the king shortly. it was always the poor queen's fate to say the very thing that of all others was calculated to irritate him, and, anxious as he was to hide all traces of his last night's exploit, he on this occasion had great difficulty in not showing his annoyance. in order to succeed, he found himself making a more elaborate compliment to mlle de tricotrin than was necessary, and the bright look of pleasure she gave him in return only increased his vexation. "mlle de tricotrin has been reading some beautiful things to me," said the queen, with a well-meant attempt to turn the conversation into a channel which she believed was agreeable to both. "i find her quite a profound philosopher." "indeed," answered the king in no better humour, as the conviction forced itself upon him that mlle de tricotrin was besieging his mother as an outwork of the throne. "ladies so arm themselves with wisdom nowadays that men are driven to the end of their wits to know how to resist them, and you make me fear, madam, that i come in a very high-flown hour to prefer a humble request i have." "nay, kophetua," replied the queen, "you know i consider no hour ill-timed for a mother to help her son. what is it i shall do for you?" "it is a very little matter, madam," the king began, with some nervousness. "it is only that i wish you to take into your household an unfortunate girl who has been highly commended to my care. it matters not how low the office." he could not help glancing at mlle de tricotrin to see how she took the words. he found her looking at him with a look of entranced admiration, which at that moment was peculiarly annoying. for an instant he thought she had taken in the whole situation at once. "that is very easily done," said the queen. "what can she do? where did she come from?" "that i cannot tell you," answered the king. "but do you not know?" "yes, madam; but there are reasons why i cannot tell you," said the king, for he was now more determined than ever that mlle de tricotrin should not know how he had been influenced by her conversation. "it is a strange request to make," said the queen, a little coldly. "may i know nothing before i grant it?" "she is a beggar-maid, madam, whom i have undertaken to protect; i beg you to ask no more." "it is well, sir, perhaps, that i should not," returned the queen, drawing herself up with all the pride of her ancient family. "it is a long time since a daughter of our house was served by beggars." "but why not, madam, why not?" said the king warmly. "where will you find truer nature, and, therefore, truer nobility, than there? it is they whom the noonday burns and who shiver in the night; it is they who hunger and thirst and want; it is they who know the only true joys, the joys that have risen out of misery; it is they who alone are pure, who have touched pitch and are not defiled. what are we beside them, with our empty, easy, untried lives? how can nobility grow out of such pettinesses as are our highest employments? no! there, out of doors, where men and women that groan and suffer, and shout for joy when it is done, that hate and love like the strong beasts of the desert, that curse when they are angered and smile only when they are pleased, there where these are ground together in the roaring mill of good and evil, there you shall seek and find the little nobleness that is left in our effete humanity." "and is it the white flour you bring me from your dusty mill?" said the queen haughtily. "how am i to tell it is not the husk that is only fit for swine?" "madam," cried the king loftily, "i swear to you--is that not enough?--i swear to you she is pure as snow; i swear that of all women----" "stay, sir," said the queen, with suppressed anger. "'tis only as i thought; but i beg you to remember where you are and to whom you speak. a mighty fine thing, sir, a vastly fine thing for a son to ask of the mother he hardly deigns to own. you have reasons, have you, why you may not say who this lady is? there is no need. i know them well enough. it is vastly fine, sir. kophetua the king, kophetua, the thirteenth of his name, shall go and rake in any filthy hole for his toys, and bring them to his father's wife to hide in her bosom. it is vastly fine, sir, but you know not my father's daughter, and have forgotten yourself." "madam, you do me wrong!" cried kophetua passionately. "before heaven, you do me wrong!" "peace! peace!" cried the queen, "lest heaven blast you. i know you well. it is useless to speak so fine. i know you for the son you are. see what it is you do, and pray forgiveness of heaven. that were the best. you, my son, my one son, who have been my only thought, while i grew grey with thinking; you who have cast me off to be the puppet of a man your father raised from the very ground; it is you who sat and took your pleasure while i grew grey and grieved for the love you had denied me! but i waited through the long years alone, saying, 'surely when my punishment is ended, god will send him back, and in his arms the sweet fruits of love and repentance!' and now, to-day, you came at last, and i thought the days of my mourning were over. i held out my hands for the rich gift of your love that should sweeten the last bitter drops in my cup--weary and sick with longing i hold them out, and you would put into them your--your----" she sank in her chair, unable to say the word, and, burying her head in her arms upon the grinning monster, sobbed out hysterically, "'tis vastly fine, 'tis vastly fine!" but kophetua neither heard nor saw. at the climax of her speech he had turned on his heel and left the room, lest he should be tempted to return her anger with anger. his pride was as high as his mother's, and it came to his aid, just as it had come to hers in her interview with turbo. so he drew himself up and slowly left the pavilion, proud that with all his temptations his life was yet without the reproach his mother had flung at him, and proud that, deep as the insult was, he was too chivalrous even to resent it, seeing that it came from a woman. but he was cut to the heart nevertheless. with a great effort he had resolved to come to his mother for sympathy and help in his trouble. it was she, he felt, who alone would understand, or if she would not, then it was hopeless, and he knew not which way to turn. it had cost him much to make up his mind to try and fill the gulf that was between them, but he had humbled himself at last. he had come to her feet, and she had cast him off with insults. she had utterly misunderstood him. the breach, instead of being mended, was widened tenfold, and for ever he must be alone. with such thoughts he strode from the pavilion, and took his way out of the garden, with the noble and resolute look which came over him in his better moments, and which became him so well. as he turned from the main alley into a sidewalk thickly edged with grotesque cactus, the soft sound of a voice stopped his measured stride. he looked to see mlle de tricotrin before him in the way, kneeling in her soft white dress. "pardon!" she said very softly, "i crave your majesty's pardon." at that moment, of all others, he would have avoided her if it had been possible, but she was straight in his path, and then as she rested on one knee and looked imploringly upon his face, her beauty was such that in any case he could hardly have passed her by. "it was not my fault," she continued, "that i heard what i did. you desired me to remain, and i left as soon as i saw the mistake her majesty made." "it is a little fault," answered he, "to crave pardon for on your knees." "but it is not all i ask," she cried; "i am here to beg a greater favour. o sire! i cannot but say it, my heart bleeds for you. i understand it all. it is a terrible thing to be judged so falsely by those we have striven hardest to please. it is a poor reward for what you have done. i understand it all, and beg you will let me take care of her." "but, mademoiselle, how can i claim such a service at your hands? it is impossible." "it is not a service i do you," she answered. "i have no chamber-woman. she feared to follow me here. so let me have this girl whom you have saved, and i will treat her as a sister." it was perhaps the last escape that he would have wished from his difficulty. it was really too vexatious that he should be forced to let this woman add an obligation to the other snares she was weaving round him. yet it was the only way he could see, and he could not deny he was touched by her kindness. so he gave her his hand and raised her from where she kneeled. "you have a kind heart, mademoiselle," he said. "she shall come to you to-night." it was impossible not to put to his lips the little hand he held. mere courtesy demanded it. he was conscious of a strange thrill as he did so, and passed on to his apartments in the perilous state of an injured man who recognises that a certain beautiful woman is the only person in the world who understands him. chapter x. the fall of turbo. "the blinded boy, that shootes so trim, from heaven downe did hie; he drew a dart and shot at him, in place where he did lye." kophetua may have been in many respects a weak man, but he was not a man to sit down tamely under the affront which the beggars had put upon him. as he told general dolabella, it had been his intention to summon the head-quarter staff that very afternoon in order to concert measures for the forcible punishment of his treasonable subjects. in the course of the morning, however, his ardour had a little cooled. his sleep had removed his excitement, and the more he contemplated his adventure, the more ashamed he was of it, and he made up his mind to defer broaching the subject for a few days. not that he abandoned his determination to cleanse his augean stables. it was only that he was resolved to let no one know of his adventure. he feared that the display of a sudden anxiety to consider the question could only lead to unpleasant inquiries and surmises. he did not therefore summon the staff. he made up his mind it would be better to approach the subject as an ordinary question of the interior, and give notice that the condition of the liberties of st. lazarus would be considered at the next monthly council, which would be held in about ten days' time in ordinary course. but even this plain way was not without its embarrassment, and it was a particularly painful one for kophetua. in a word, the obstacle was turbo. turbo was chancellor, and, as chancellor, was president of the council. it was through him that all summonses and notices had to go. if the king wished to have the liberties of st. lazarus placed upon the orders of the day, it was turbo whom he must tell to do it, and turbo was the very last person in the world that he wanted to address on the subject. so acutely did he feel the difficulty of his position, and so carefully did turbo avoid him, that two days had passed since penelophon was installed in mlle de tricotrin's service before the question was mentioned between them. when the dreaded interview did take place, it was in no way due to kophetua's resolution. it was now the third day since his adventure, and the last on which notices of business were usually sent to the council. kophetua was in no pleasant frame of mind, for he knew that turbo would come that very morning for instructions as to the orders of the day. in vain he tried to forget his trouble. in vain he adopted his usual expedient, which, till recently, had been so successful with him. he deliberately sat and tried to conjure up the prettiest face he knew. of course it was mlle de tricotrin's. it was a pleasant amusement to picture before his eyes her lovely form and face, with its ripe beauty, the glowing carnation that mantled so soft and pure in her rounded cheeks like life made visible, the rich purple that gleamed like a gem under the long dark eyelashes, the tempting lips that seemed made as a playground for kisses, and the tangled setting of gold and bronze that softened and enriched the whole. yes, it was a sport pleasant enough to make a man forget the ugliest things. many times in the last two days had kophetua set himself to it, but it brought him little comfort. the pretty phantom would no longer come at his light call. it wanted a serious effort of will to conjure it, and then when he knew it had risen, and he set himself to enjoy a quiet contemplation of it, lo! it was changed, and in its place stood a spectre, wan and pale and of delicate mould, with a robe of thick dark hair, and eyes darker still. sometimes it was foul and ragged, and sometimes it was like a corpse, but always it had the same trusting dog-like look he knew so well, and always with a sense of strange distress he exorcised it. it was the spirit of the woman who had risked her life for his, of the woman whom he had saved from a horrible death. it was the ghost of his better self that was haunting him in the shape of that lowly child of nature. it would never do to think of it so. it must be crushed and smothered and forgotten. so each time it rose he cried his _apagé_ against it, and fell to his trouble again. it was thus he was sitting now, when turbo was announced for his usual audience. "i am merely here with the council summonses," said turbo carelessly, after he had been admitted and had made his formal civilities. "i presume your majesty has nothing to put on the orders of the day?" "yes, chancellor, i have," answered the king, as carelessly as he could. "there is a matter of importance which i have for some time wished to consider, and which cannot be deferred much longer with safety to the state." "indeed!" said the chancellor, with affected surprise. "i was not aware of anything so serious and sudden." "it is not sudden," replied the king, with some sharpness, "i have told you that. it is a matter that has been long in my mind, and in every one else's, but no one has had the courage to speak the first word. sit down, and be at the pains of writing, while i dictate the form of my notice." "shall i bring my papers to this end of the room?" asked the chancellor maliciously. "no," cried the king in great vexation, "i will go to my usual place." he had hardly been aware of it, but now he was highly annoyed to find that instead of taking his chair before the founder's hearth, he had been sitting at the other end of the library under the picture of the king and the beggar-maid, and all he could do to conceal his annoyance was to dictate his notice with unusual severity as follows:-- "his majesty.--to call attention to the growing power and lawlessness of the beggars within the liberties of st. lazarus, and to lay certain considerations before the council for the necessity of immediate steps being taken in regard thereto." the chancellor wrote as he was told, placed the order in his portfolio without a word, and then stood up waiting to be dismissed. kophetua looked at his snarling face for a moment, as though to detect what was passing there, and then, turning on his heel with a shrug, waved dismissal to his minister. turbo went straight to the door in silence, but before he reached it the king's voice stopped him. "turbo!" said he frankly, "stay! what ridiculous farce is this we are playing?" it was always an understood signal between them, that when the king called the chancellor by his name they were to be on their old footing of governor and pupil. it was no longer a monarch who spoke to his minister, but two old friends who chatted together. so turbo limped back and sat down carelessly by the hearth. "i really cannot tell," he answered coolly; "i was taking my cue from you." "let us understand one another," said kophetua. "do you mean to allow a silly freak, in which we were both engaged, to sever our lifelong friendship?" "that depends upon what you intend to do?" "what do you mean?" "do you intend to give me back the girl you stole from me?" "certainly not," replied the king, with great decision. "then," said the chancellor calmly, as he rose from his seat, "i am afraid the silly freak will have the effect you were contemplating." "sit down, turbo. this is absurd. what can you want with the child?" "no matter. i want her." "it is impossible. i have passed my word to protect her; and, besides, i do not believe you want her." "i am in love with her," said turbo, as coldly as though he were made of stone. "my dear turbo," answered the king, "pray be serious while we discuss this matter." "i am serious. i tell you i love her." "but don't you see it is impossible for me to believe you after all you have taught me of your philosophy of women!" "it is because you have not learned your lesson that you cannot believe i may love. you have not understood what i taught you. you can chatter the words finely enough, but you have never conceived the spirit." "and may it not be the teacher who was at fault?" "no! i have told you plainly enough, but you are too soft and weak to hold the truth. still i will tell you again what my woman-philosophy is. it is simply this: they have no resistance, no solid principles. their natural understanding is as a pool of water lying in a shallow bed, beyond which no conviction can sink. a woman's moral ideas are but bubbles that float on the surface of her unstable soul, and burst into impalpable spray whenever they come in contact with the little they meet that is firm and fixed. for women are all and utterly unstable, except where they have shut in their souls with the stony rocks of self-love and personal interest. these are things which are solid enough in the daughters of eve; it is against these that the empty bubbles of their morality are burst and dissipated." "but you have told me this many times," interrupted the king. "i cannot see how it explains the paradox you want me to believe: it is only the conceit of diderot you quote again." "i know," pursued the chancellor, "it is the conceit of diderot; and diderot was right, except that he pitied where he should only have despised. and he was right when he said that, though outwardly more civilised than ourselves, women have yet remained the true savages. it is they who have kept the passions and instincts of the beasts. we have changed them. they have only covered them over with civilisation. that is why diderot called the deceivers 'fair as the seraphin of klopstock, terrible as the fiends of milton.' it was a wise saying, yet he could not see it was the poison of civilisation that transformed the seraphin into fiends. when did i ever say a word against the material part of women? it was their minds i bade you know and shun. find me a woman where the seraphic matter is unpoisoned with the spirit of eve, and why should i not love her? such a one, i tell you, is the girl you stole. she is the pure clay, fresh from the hand of the potter. she is not smeared with the smooth and glittering glaze; she is not stained with the enticing colours; art the arch-liar has not found her out to make her as fair and false as the rest. she is foul and ragged and ignorant. she knows no art to entice. she has no skill to deceive, and i love her for her foulness and her rags and her stupidity, and know her for a lump of the pure seraphic clay." "i hear what you say," said the king thoughtfully; "but i cannot understand. it is all wild talk, empty philosophy. this cannot make a man love." "you _will_ not understand!" cried turbo, with sudden warmth. "that is it; you will not listen, because you know it is this that makes a man love. you know it, because you love her yourself!" "turbo," answered kophetua hotly, "what folly is this? you forget yourself." "perhaps," cried turbo, rising from his chair and speaking with ever-increasing vehemence. "but it is better to understand each other now. i say you love her. you and i have talked for years like fools on all this. we thought as one man, and thought we were wise and strong in our unity. but now we have both seen this girl--curse the fate that brought you to her--we have seen her, and we know we have been blind fools that could not tell the gold from the dross. she has come to us, and we both love her. you and i, i say, we both love her, but it is i that will have her! do you hear? it is i, i that will have our love, though you stole her. were you twice a king i will have her, though i tear her from your very arms." his ghastly scars grew more livid in his anger, and his pitted face turned pale with rage. he seemed as one possessed, and sank in helpless fury at the end of his insane outburst, as though exhausted with the prolonged struggle to control himself. kophetua turned from him and began to pace the room. turbo had gone too far. he had been insolent, and the king's pride was kindled into anger. yet kophetua would not speak till he was cool enough to control his words. for, strange as it may seem, he loved this man--in the same way, perhaps, as a man will love his cross-grained ugly cur that snarls and snaps at every one but his master. so he paced the long room to cool his anger and try and understand what his old governor's madness meant. had he known his whole story, the task might have been easier. had he known how that passionate nature had been chained down in long imprisonment, he might have wondered less to see it burst its bonds. but he knew not what passion could be in a man like turbo. its durance had been long and hard, and now the time was at hand when it must die, worn out with age and suffering. yet even as the death throes were upon it, it had blazed up in one last ungovernable fit, and kophetua, to his wonder, saw the man of ice burning like a furnace. at the last moment, when the struggle was so near its end, the strong man's strength had failed him. he was overwhelmed, as it were, and swept resistlessly onward by the gathering flood he had so long dammed up. but kophetua could understand nothing of this as he paced the dark oak floor, and the more he thought of the chancellor's threats and insolence, the less able he felt to continue the conversation. it was impossible to forgive his insinuations about penelophon. so at last all kophetua could do was to control himself sufficiently to inform the chancellor in his coldest official tone that he should not require his further attendance that day. for kophetua the chancellor's departure did little to clear the air. the storm within him continued to growl and mutter. he felt himself a martyr, or if he ceased for a moment to think that, it was only to call himself a fool, and that was worse. the other view of the case was preferable. he certainly was a martyr. he had made one honest effort to escape from the banalities that were freezing his soul, and do something worthy of his name. the only result so far was that he had dangerously entangled himself with a siren who had been thrust in his way for that very purpose; he had allowed his name to be connected with a beggar-girl in a way that would have been still more annoying were it not so ridiculous; and, finally, on the eve of a fierce political struggle to which the same siren was sure to give rise, he had managed to quarrel with all three of the party leaders, including his best friend, and the only relation he had in the world. it is hardly to be wondered at under the circumstances that he found himself constantly recurring to thoughts which had often framed themselves before in the course of his reading in political philosophy. they were to the effect that kings were a mistake, and even a crime, and that his plain duty after all was to form a republic and abdicate. chapter xi. opening the campaign. "and, as he musing thus did lye, he thought for to devise how he might have her companye, that so did 'maze his eyes." the next morning turbo appeared at his usual hour. he was quite calm. so was the king. they greeted each other with cold civility, and kophetua at once put his formal question, as to what business there was to be done. "there is business," said turbo, "which perhaps will not be so painful to your majesty as it is to me!" "yes?" replied the king unfeelingly. "yesterday," the chancellor continued, "a scene took place between your majesty and myself which cannot but interrupt the cordial relations that have hitherto existed between us. i regret and am heartily ashamed of the part i permitted to myself, and after what has occurred i feel my only course is to tender to your majesty my resignation." "permit me to say, chancellor," the king replied, for he was touched by this strong man's dignified humility and self-control, "permit me to say that your conduct appears to me entirely worthy of the high place you have won in your sovereign's estimation. you will understand that i desire no unwilling service, but, at the same time, i feel it is impossible to meet your magnanimity otherwise than by a request that you will reconsider your determination." "sire, i fear it is useless," answered turbo. "your majesty can hardly appreciate the extent of the breach between us." "i appreciate it," said the king, "but i do not exaggerate it. we have differed on a private matter of absurd triviality. i recall nothing which an apology cannot heal, and that you have already amply given. of course," he added, with some nervousness, "it is unnecessary to observe that i am assuming the abandonment of the intentions you expressed yesterday." "perfectly unnecessary," said the chancellor gravely. "you will see," went on kophetua, almost apologetically, "i am compelled to insist on this. my royal word is passed. it is impossible not to feel a strong interest in a person whom one has saved from a horrible death." "i understand perfectly, sire," replied turbo, interrupting the king, who was about to explain the circumstances which compelled him to take penelophon under his care. "it is precisely that feeling which carried me into such excesses yesterday when this person was referred to, and which now prompts me to embrace cordially the offer of forgiveness and reconciliation which your majesty so magnanimously offers." "i hardly comprehend," said the king. "you have not saved my life or pen---- or that of this young person." "i would crave your majesty's permission to pursue this subject no further," said turbo. "nay, i insist on knowing what you mean," answered the king. "then i am forced to tell your majesty," said the chancellor, with slow and distinct utterance, "that i was present at the court of st. lazarus during the whole of the ghastly tragedy at which your majesty assisted. i went thither in order to rescue, if possible, this unhappy young person from what i knew must be the result of the mistaken generosity with which your majesty had treated her. i found, with my crippled frame, i could do nothing. i witnessed your majesty's heroic intervention at the last moment, and saw at once a possibility of escape. unseen by any one i forced pebbles into the lock which had turned upon you, and having thus secured the necessary delay, i was able to fetch two of my own servants with the simple means of effecting your majesty's escape through the prison window." "but why did you not tell me this?" asked the king, overwhelmed with surprise. "why did you run away?" "i thought it would be only consistent with your majesty's wishes," said turbo, "that no one should be, or even appear to be, cognisant of your adventure." for a moment kophetua was overcome with annoyance and humiliation to think how, all through the piece of knight-errantry on which he had prided himself so much, turbo had been watching over and humouring him as though he were a child. but his better feelings took possession of him directly. "turbo, my dear turbo," he said with effusion, as he advanced to the chancellor and took his hand, "why could you not have told me this before, and saved me the injustice i have done you? how shall i ever be able to return your devotion?" "i beg your majesty will forget the whole affair," answered turbo. "no one can know better than yourself how unpleasant is the exposure of the good we do by stealth." "my dear turbo," said the king, "i can never forget it." so king and chancellor were at one again, and penelophon remained in peace under the protection of mlle de tricotrin, happy in the occasional glimpses she had of trecenito, and happy in the affection which her mistress lavished upon her. for mlle de tricotrin had taken a real liking to her gentle handmaid. she had gone through life with hardly a single friend of her own sex, and penelophon's simple devotion touched her not a little. for, to the beggar-maid, her delivery from the squalor, misery, and cruelty in which she had been brought up was like being lifted out of hell into heaven; and she adored her beautiful mistress almost as much as she did her deliverer. so the days went by in supreme happiness for those two women, and their serenity was in strange contrast to the storm which was brewing around them. the political barometer was beginning to show signs of considerable agitation, and it was clear to the experienced observer that these two women were forming the centre of an important disturbance, which bade fair to develop a dangerous energy. as has been previously explained, a storm in the troubled waters of politics was a normal event in oneiria during crises like the present; but never before had there been one which seemed to promise such violence. the cause was not far to seek. the marquis de tricotrin had been to england. his stay had not been a short one, and he was not a man to throw away his opportunities. he liked the country and appreciated its peculiar blessings. it was not long before his sagacity detected the secret of our amazing political success, and he determined to lose no time in studying the palladium he had discovered. fortunately, during the period of his observations the palladium exhibited itself in violent action; it therefore seems almost superfluous to add that the marquis left the country with quite an uncommon mastery of party tactics and something approaching to genius in the manufacture and manipulation of majorities. all he required was a field. it is said he attempted something during his sojourn in the canaries, but his praiseworthy endeavours were disliked and at once suppressed by the spanish governor. it was then, thirsting for an opportunity for the display of his talents, that the marquis arrived in oneiria. not a day had passed before he recognised the excellence of his fortune. he found himself in the midst of three strongly divided parties, practically without experience of modern methods, and himself and his daughter the bone of contention between them. it was a moment of pardonable enthusiasm. with a hastiness excusable in a foreigner he hurried to the conclusion that as there were three parties there must be three policies, and, what is more, in three days he was persuaded that he clearly understood what they were. neither conviction was entirely justified, but of this the marquis was naturally unaware. to a man of his experience the whole matter was comparatively simple, and, with a decision which would not have disgraced the oldest parliamentary hand, he adopted a plan of campaign. there were three parties, each requiring a policy. all he had to do, then, was to make each party adopt his daughter as its particular programme. that was the obvious objective, and the lines of strategy towards it were no less plain to his penetration. one of the first things he had learned in england was that simple rule which reiterated success has hallowed into a dogma: "when it is impossible to find fault with your adversaries' policy, it is lawful to steal it." as a policy his daughter was irreproachable. he felt therefore that little more than a mere suggestion of the stratagem to the party leaders was necessary in order to ensure its adoption. the conquest which mlle de tricotrin had already made of the queen was enough to secure the agathist party, even had it not been that they had already accepted the nomination. as for the kallikagathists, he felt they were at least half won by the impression his daughter's beauty had made on the soft heart of their gallant leader. in fact, it is not too much to say that general dolabella was quite unhinged. it was a long time since his admiration for a woman had got so beyond his control as to lead him into melancholy. but this was certainly his case now, and the marquis saw it. as we have said, he was a man of decisive action who did not lose opportunities, and he determined to occupy the position which the general's weakness exposed to him before that gallant officer could recover himself. the marquis found it a more difficult task than he had expected. the general, he confessed, was very stupid, and offered all kinds of objections. he even went so far as to say that he doubted whether the suggested stratagem was quite soldierly, but he was at once pooh-poohed into recantation by the marquis's english precedents. still he held out with confused obstinacy, which the marquis put down to the general's denseness, but which was, in fact, due to his own mistaken estimate of the situation. his hasty and erroneous conclusions as to the real relations between the respective parties had caused him, as has been already hinted, to entirely misunderstand dolabella's position, and he was adopting a false method of attack. "but pardon me for saying," said the general, retreating to this point for the tenth time, "that i cannot see what i or my party is to gain by adopting the course you propose." the general always distinguished between himself and his party. it was no doubt entirely due to that unique and complex condition of oneirian politics, which was the precise element in the question, that the marquis in his haste had failed to grasp. the shrewd frenchman began to perceive he was at fault somewhere, and determined to fathom the mystery. "i perceive," said he, "that you have more than once spoken of yourself as something distinct from the party you lead. may i venture to ask whether the usual procedure in this country is to deal with the two things separately?" "god forbid!" cried the general in alarm. "to hint of such a thing would smell of disloyalty in any but a foreigner who does not understand us." "forgive my ignorance, general," said the marquis, "and show your pity for it so far as to explain your unintelligible position." "with great pleasure, my dear marquis," answered the general, with a look of painful worry at the almost impossible feat demanded of him. "it is a little complicated, but i think i can show you how things lie. you see, although i lead the kallikagathist party, it does not follow me." "that _is_ a little difficult," answered the marquis gravely. "you mean that i should arrange with your party which way it means to go, that you may be in a position to know how to lead it?" "not at all," said the general. "we are entirely at one. our lines of thought are identical. it is only in our lines of action that we differ." "which is, of course," replied the marquis, "a mere detail." "precisely," said dolabella, in a somewhat relieved tone. "you see, my practical policy is to elect the queen, theirs to elect the speaker, but both elections are governed by the same principles." "your explanation is really masterly," said the marquis. "i wonder i was so stupid; i see your point now quite clearly. you mean that you cannot make your party responsible for a policy which will not tend to improve the chances of their candidate for the chair." "yes," said the general, a little doubtfully, "that does seem to be what i mean." "very well," continued de tricotrin; "then if i could ensure them the support of the agathist party for their candidate, they would be prepared to accept my daughter at your nomination?" "but, unfortunately," objected the general, "we have no candidate of sufficient weight to bring about such a coalition." "then why don't you stand yourself?" said the marquis. "my dear marquis!" cried the general, completely taken aback. "such a thing was never heard of." "so much the better," replied the tempter. "the more unexpected our moves, the better chance we have of success. the idea seems to me to meet every difficulty. what you yourself gain it would not become me to point out. i need only remark that your election would be highly pleasing to my daughter. it is no breach of confidence to say that the poor girl has been more than touched by the chivalrous admiration of a distinguished officer and statesman like yourself. the speakership in this country is an office which bears a peculiar and delicate relation to the queen. it would be a source of greater pleasure to my daughter than perhaps i ought to reveal, to know that you were to occupy the chair at her coronation, and i am sure that her influence with the queen-mother and the leaders of the agathist party is sufficient to ensure their adhesion to her favoured candidate. at the last moment the nominal candidate of their party shall be withdrawn and the coast left clear for your certain return. say now, my dear general, will you give my daughter this one last satisfaction before her marriage?" during the beginning of this speech the general had been staring at the frenchman, with eyes wide with amazement, but as he proceeded, the blissful picture which was artfully called up before him was too much for his susceptible nature. to kiss those lovely lips, and embrace that bewitching form! it was a rapture of which he had not dared to dream. he closed his eyes as he listened, and a foolish smile of complacent and inexpressible satisfaction overspread his rouged and powdered face. when the marquis ceased he collected himself with a sudden effort to a more dignified expression. he rose with the air of a statesman who is resolved to pursue a policy worthy of his magnanimity, and took the marquis solemnly by the hand. "marquis!" said he, "you are a great man. your generalship will ensure the election of this lady, whose beauty, virtue, and intelligence make it the duty of every loyal subject of the king's to espouse her cause. your admirably conceived plan demands of me and my party a sacrifice. monsieur le marquis, we will make that sacrifice!" thereupon monsieur de tricotrin embraced the gallant martyr, told him he had a noble heart, and assured him with effusion that courage, devotion, intelligence, and sensibility would be carved in highest relief upon the imperishable fabric of his memory. and so he took his departure, leaving the general to wonder whether madame dolabella would view his conduct in the same light. the agathist and kallikagathist parties were practically won. there remained still the most difficult task. the marquis was perfectly aware of the king's antipathy to matrimony, and was fully convinced that there was still a great chance of failure, unless turbo's support could be gained. to achieve this he felt was a task of the greatest delicacy and difficulty, and one worthy of his skill as a politician. there was clearly but one way in which it could be done. to approach the chancellor directly was out of the question. pressure must be put on him through his party. with a light heart, which confidence in his abilities can alone give a man, the marquis set about his task, little imagining the extraordinary result his ingenious manoeuvres were to have. chapter xii. a decisive action. "but cupid had him so in snare, that this poor beggar must prepare a salve to cure him of his care." the activity of m. de tricotrin soon began to make itself felt. there was something so delightfully cynical about the political maxim upon which he was working, that most of the prominent kallists, whom he sounded, embraced his idea with enthusiasm. the result was a marked and sudden acrimony in the conduct of the campaign. the situation was entirely new, and was discussed with all the fire and recklessness which is the attribute of new situations everywhere. before, the question had always lain between the claims of the ladies whom the respective parties supported; now it was between the claims of the respective parties upon a lady whom they all supported. there was something particularly invigorating in the freshness of the political atmosphere. as each party gradually recognised the discreditable tactics of its opponents, feeling began to run very high. for of course the speaker was not chosen on his merits. it has been explained how, in this unique country, nothing was ever done or omitted on its merits. the speaker was chosen on the merits of the candidate for the "crown of kisses." hence the interest which politicians of every grade displayed in her and her relation to the principles which were supposed to guide the different parties. the progress of the discussion, which each day grew more heated, only serves to show us what unprincipled politicians the oneirians were. instead of attacking the real views of their opponents, as we always do, no matter how great the danger of defeat, they were accustomed to attribute to them views which they knew, or might easily have known, they did not possess, and emptied their artillery furiously at the monsters they had thus themselves created. it was a method that had something to commend it. it was often successful. the _débris_ of these paper giants not unfrequently smothered the hosts which were the real object of attack, and gave the victors an ill-gotten peace till the enemy could repeat the manoeuvre to their own advantage. all parties were now busy on the old lines. as soon as the agathists recovered from the shock which the attempt on their candidate gave them, they raised an angry scream that the whole thing was immoral, shameful, and ridiculous. that the kallists, who objected to virtue and only admired beauty, should pretend to support an angel like mlle de tricotrin was a piece of duplicity and presumption which no words would adequately characterise. the kallists replied with equal warmth, declaring that absolute falsehood was the last thing to stand in the way of a hypocritical agathist when he wanted to gain his selfish ends; they knew perfectly well that the kallists did not object to virtue; they admired beauty, which was a very different thing. above all things mlle de tricotrin was beautiful, the most beautiful woman that had ever appeared in oneiria, and it was therefore sheer nonsense to pretend that she ought to be an agathist candidate. it was well known that agathists hated beauty, and cared for nothing but virtue; and therefore for them to set up a claim to mlle de tricotrin was nothing less than unconstitutional. the kallikagathists as usual held a little aloof. they did not hurl themselves into the thick of the fight. the party, it has been said, consisted chiefly of superior persons, and was nothing if not dignified. they listened to the clangour of the fray with lofty contempt, assuring each other the while, with well-bred reserve, that whatever lies idiotic politicians might tell, the true state of the case must be clear to all plain, sensible people. at last a lady had appeared who was at once divinely beautiful and sublimely virtuous. no amount of clamour therefore could disguise the simple fact--and facts were strong things--that mlle de tricotrin could not by any possibility be the candidate of any party but their own. so furiously did the battle rage that kophetua could hardly get the council to pay any attention to the state of the liberties of st. lazarus. objections and insuperable difficulties they had in plenty, but that was all. turbo, however, fortunately adopted a different view, and he was a host in himself. he seemed to be taking no interest whatever in what was going on about him. to all appearances he might have been entirely ignorant of the whole discussion, and of how serious was the pressure which was likely to be put upon the king to induce him to accept the hand of mlle de tricotrin. perhaps, however, he had the matter more deeply in his mind than was suspected. it was, possibly, nothing but this which induced him to give his unqualified support to his majesty's suggestion that, as a preliminary measure, details of the frontier gendarmerie should be gradually concentrated in the neighbourhood of the capital. whatever may have been his real motive, this policy was certainly calculated to distract the king's attention from matrimony and mlle de tricotrin. the indifference of their chief, however, in no way lessened the ardour of the kallist party. by the time the day came round for the usual monthly reception at the palace, the quarrel was in full swing. the occasion was expected with considerable excitement, for it was an open secret that each party was going to make it the scene of a demonstration, by which each thought to gain a march upon its adversaries. the agathists especially were in a high state of elation, and not without cause. the stroke they had prepared displayed real political ability. the queen-mother was of course surrounded by agathist ladies. every day they had an opportunity of seeing and speaking to mlle de tricotrin, for margaret seemed unable to pass a single day without the society of her new friend during some portion of it. thus there was plenty of opportunity of examining mlle de tricotrin's costumes minutely, and by dint of intense application the ladies of the queen's circle were able to prepare for the reception a number of gowns whose resemblance to the original model was very creditable, considering the impediment of unsuitable materials and the difficulty which the rococo tastes of the designers naturally had in grasping the spirit of mlle de tricotrin's neo-classic style. all was ready the day before the momentous occasion. a great strategical advantage seemed assured to the agathist party, when, unfortunately, the vigilance of the kallist intelligence department discovered the secret by means of a corrupt maid. in the utmost consternation they flew to the marquis with the news. his parisian experience of the influence of women in politics told him at once that it was a crisis of the highest gravity--a crisis of that transcendent nature which serves to mark out the great from the moderate men--a crisis to which intellects like m. de tricotrin's are alone equal. he gravely heard the whole case, considered for a few moments, and then it was plain that he had taken his decision. "i presume," he said, with an air of calm resolution, "that lady kora and the count will be there." the count was the kallist candidate for the chair, and lady kora, his daughter, was the beauty of the party. of course they would be there. "very well," continued the marquis; "request them to be so kind as to come to my house to-morrow afternoon, and beg them not to be at the trouble of dressing for the reception." the deputation was satisfied. they were coming to have entire confidence in the marquis's generalship, and they retired with expressions of mutual esteem. m. de tricotrin at once went to his daughter's apartment. as it happened, he found penelophon laying out a beautiful gown for her mistress's inspection. "see, sir," cried mlle de tricotrin, as he entered. "there is the gown i wear to-morrow. is it not lovely?" the marquis looked at it critically. "is that the handsomest one you have?" he asked. "yes, sir," she answered. "it is the loveliest one i ever had. i have kept it back on purpose for a time like this. i am so happy that i did." "i am happy too, my child, for i want it." "but it won't suit you, sir?" "my child," said the marquis, with spartan severity, "this is no time for levity. we are on the brink of a desperate crisis. it is a moment of gravest peril, and that gown alone can save us." and then he explained to her the whole situation, and how he had resolved that lady kora should wear her most beautiful dress. poor mlle de tricotrin! like most pretty women, and many others, she was very fond of her pretty frocks. she had an exquisite taste in them, and had been preparing this present one for a triumph which should outdo all her previous successes. she and penelophon had been thinking of little else for some days past, and her beautiful eyes filled with tears at her bitter disappointment. "o sir," she said, "you are always asking sacrifices of me." "but i ask none," he answered, "that i do not make myself. i shall lend the count the very last suit of clothes which i had from paris." "but that is so different," she answered. "i really cannot see how," said he; "but that is a matter of detail. you have some intelligence, my child, and you must see that as long as we can hold the balance true between the parties, they will all struggle which is to support us most vigorously. if we once let one of them get the upper hand, we shall immediately have an opposition. no! be brave, be my own daughter, and fling your gown into the rising scale as i do my plum-coloured suit. it is a sacrifice, i know, but to win a crown you must expect greater sacrifices than this. many have to sacrifice honour, and even lives, to their ambition; be thankful that this is all i demand of you--as yet." "take it away, penelophon," said mlle de tricotrin desperately, "i cannot bear to see it now; and yet how pretty it is! had you told me yesterday i would give this up, i should have said, 'no, that is impossible; as impossible as that i should sacrifice you, child.'" it was miserable work for both mistress and maid dressing lady kora on the following afternoon. but mlle de tricotrin had made the sacrifice, and had sense and determination enough to be loyal to it, and make the most of it. she draped lady kora herself, and penelophon dressed her hair as she had been taught by her mistress. lady kora had pretty hair and a pretty complexion, so she was well enough without her rouge and powder. it made poor mlle de tricotrin almost break down to see how charming she had made her look in her own best-loved gown. but the effect on the agathist ladies was something very much more severe. when they assembled in the throne-room, they were in the highest spirits. nothing was heard but mutual congratulations on the success of their manoeuvre, and the sour looks of the opposition. true, the costumes were not all that they had intended. the rich satins and flowered brocades upon which they had worked did not lend themselves particularly well to the neo-classic treatment. the general effect was decidedly bunchy. there was a want of softness and grace about the folds, and some of the coiffures gave evidence of a serious want of feeling for the style. the harmonious disorder of mlle de tricotrin it was found very hard to attain. most of the heads presented a shock of ugly tangle, such as the sleeping beauty must have suffered from when she first awoke; others had frankly given up the attempt, and, merely abandoning their powder, had kept to their old-world design, with a somewhat painfully incongruous effect. still, whatever might be the artistic verdict, politically it was an immense success, and agathist spirits ran high. the kallikagathist ladies displayed their characteristic moderation with an increase of self-respect which, as usual, was in direct proportion to the contempt with which it inspired their opponents. with sagacious self-control they had given up powder, clung to their rouge, and shortened their waists without lessening the girth of their hoop. the compromise served well to mark their principles, but sadly spoilt their figures. we can imagine, then, the terrible shock which the entrance of lady kora and her father created. that the kallist candidate should outshine the marquis was bad enough, but that his daughter, the recognised beauty and leader of fashion in kallist circles, should put mlle de tricotrin into the shade with her gown was simply a disaster. the more the agathist ladies looked at her, the more absurd and bunchy did they feel. with the appalling conviction that they had made themselves ridiculous they tried to hide themselves in the throng. more than one poor girl was found in tears as she thought of her shock head, and the hateful costume she had been compelled to wear. how could they ever recover their reputation? the cup of the vanquished was full when the king danced a second minuet with lady kora. the marquis even began to be alarmed lest his manoeuvre was being too successful. still there was in any case one point gained. in spite of turbo, the kallist party was openly committed to the support of mlle de tricotrin. turbo saw it plainly, and saw it without dismay. with perfect unconcern, he had been watching while de tricotrin laboriously constructed his matrimonial engine. the ingenuity which the frenchman displayed only served to amuse him while he was waiting for the moment to deliver the blow, which he calculated would smash the elaborate machine to pieces. he well knew how kophetua would see through the whole conspiracy, and resent the pressure that was being prepared for him. he was fully alive to the fact that the least thing would now be enough to turn his pupil against mlle de tricotrin, and he laughed to himself to think how, when the hour was come, at one stroke he would gain all he wanted, and prevent all he did not want. it was now that the hour had come. "permit me, marquis, to make you a compliment," said turbo, as with engaging freedom he drew the frenchman on to a balcony in a secluded part of the state apartments. "your generalship is simply consummate; i am completely out-manoeuvred." "my dear chancellor," replied the marquis in some suspicion at this sudden surrender, "i trust you will not interpret any move that i have made as an offensive operation against yourself." "m. le marquis," said turbo, looking frankly at his rival, "let us be perfectly open. we are each of us too old to be deceived by the other. each knows the other's game perfectly well. you are quite aware that as regards your daughter's marriage with the king i am in opposition, and i know equally well that this splendid combination--for so you must permit me to call it--this splendid combination, which has cut my party from under my feet, is the product of your genius and nothing else." "your frankness, chancellor," replied the marquis, with pardonable pride, "is as charming as your compliment. i meant to thwart you, and i think i have pretty well succeeded." "precisely," said turbo, "and, while i still have a chance, i wish to make terms with you." "i am prepared to consider anything in reason," replied the marquis magnanimously. "i am glad you take that tone," said the chancellor, "for you see i have a reserve which i should be very loth to use, but which i should be compelled to use, if we failed to agree." "well," said the marquis, smiling with lofty incredulity, "let me hear your terms." "it is merely that you should hand over to me, without reserve, your daughter's new maid." "my dear chancellor, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but my daughter would never consent to such a thing." the marquis was an old schemer, and at once winded a very cunning attempt to blacken his daughter's character irrevocably in the eyes of the king. "are you sure?" "perfectly." "then i must take my own course." "by all means; i am quite prepared with mine." "ah! you think i am so silly as to boast of forces that i do not possess. wait! i will be franker with you still. i will draw my weapon and show you how bright and sharp it is." "really, chancellor, you are very kind." "listen," hissed turbo in his ear. "the king does not love your daughter. he loves her maid. none but i know it. why do you think he used to watch the beggar-maid continually from his windows? why did he fetch her at the risk of his life and in disguise out of the liberties? why did he place her with the most accomplished woman he knew, to be refined and sweetened for him? why does he sit continually before the old picture in the library? ha! he thought he was so cunning when he put her with your daughter. he thought no one would guess, if she were under the wing of the woman whom every one thinks is going to be his bride. but i know him. i was not blinded. he means to marry the beggar-maid to spite you all, and because he loves her. think what his principles are! how he would rejoice to share his throne with one of the lowest of the people! he is a dreamer. you do not know him. he is a dreamer, and it is a thing that has happened here before." turbo's infatuation for penelophon made him believe every word he said, and his intense earnestness was not without its effect upon the marquis. after his long career of intrigue, de tricotrin was a man difficult to deceive, and he was also a man to know when another was speaking what he thought to be the truth. "this is a very serious view to take of the situation, chancellor," he said, after a short silence. "pardon me if i cannot adopt it at once. there are difficulties. he did not ask my daughter to receive this girl; it was she that chanced to offer." "chanced!" said turbo scornfully. "are you deceived by such a trick as that? why do you think he chose the very hour when your daughter was with the queen? why, only because he knew the queen would refuse, and that your daughter would offer." "true!" answered the marquis thoughtfully, "i remember she told me the king asked her to remain while he made his request. are you sure you are right in your story of this romantic abduction? is there evidence of it?" "see," said turbo, coolly bringing a paper from his pocket, "here is the very warrant under which general dolabella detained her till she could be otherwise disposed of." "but how do you come by it?" "after execution all warrants are brought to me to file in the archives." "and all you ask," said the marquis, after carefully examining the warrant, "is the surrender of this girl? it seems a small price to pay for your adhesion." "possibly, but it is not so," replied turbo. "to begin with: i cannot prevent the king marrying either your daughter or the beggar. i must lose my game now, in any case. then i have a strong fancy for this girl myself, and ask her as the price of my not prolonging the struggle. of course i could manage that the king should marry her, but i should gain nothing by it. by the present arrangement i do." "your position is quite clear to me now," said the marquis. "then you accept my terms?" "i do." chapter xiii. mistress and maid. "she had forgot her gowne of gray which she did weare of late." it would be hard to imagine a prettier picture than there was to be seen in the apartments of mlle de tricotrin on the afternoon of the day following the eventful reception. the cold season was drawing to a close. the day had been very sultry; and clad in the rich _déshabillé_ of the zenana, the beauty was lying listlessly on a luxurious divan, pretending to finish her siesta. a loose white robe of softest cotton was wrapped about her negligently, and her bare feet peeped shyly out of it. her rounded arms, her littered brown hair, the tumbled heap of gaily striped pillows, in which her flushed face was half buried, all told of the languorous unrest of the east; and the soft, rose-coloured light glimmered in from the domed ceiling upon a scene in which europe seemed quite forgotten. indeed, it was in its only half-concealed orientalism that oneiria had the greatest charm for her. that was easy to see in all the decoration and appointments of the room, in the harmonious shimmer of the arabesques, with which the plastered walls were painted, and the dwarf tables, and scattered cushions and softly glowing mats, which almost hid the cool, polished floor. no less was it visible in her own dress, and that of penelophon, who stood fanning her mistress with a large and gaudy palm-leaf fan. it has been said that mlle de tricotrin had a pretty taste in costume, and it was her delight to devise modifications of the eastern attires, which surrounded her amongst the lower orders, and dress her pretty maid in them. to-day penelophon wore in the moorish fashion, to which she was accustomed, a long robe that reached loosely from her shoulders to her feet, of a soft yellow hue. low about her waist it was girt by a band of scarlet cloth, richly embroidered with gold, and of almost extravagant breadth. yet there is no other cincture which will so beautifully express the grace of a lithe young figure. it confined without restraint, and allowed the robe to fall open naturally at the breast, so as to show beneath it a glimpse of a scarlet bodice. a silken scarf, knotted about her head, almost concealed her dark hair. her arms and feet were bare, and looked almost as white as the silver anklets and armlets with which they were clasped, and which jingled with a soft and pleasant sound as she gently moved the fan. all other noise was hushed, and penelophon stood quiet and content to look down with deepest admiration at the lovely face resting in the pillows, while she waited patiently till her mistress should be tired of pretending to sleep. "'tis useless," said mlle de tricotrin at last, rousing herself with a lazy toss of her arms; "i can sleep no more." "is it thinking of trecenito that keeps you awake?" asked penelophon, as her mistress sat up on the divan, and she kneeled at her feet to put on her dainty slippers. "hush! hush! my girl; a maid must not speak of such things to her mistress." "forgive me, madam, for indeed i meant no harm," said penelophon, pausing in her work and looking up wistfully. "and you did no harm," replied her mistress. "yes, you may speak of this to me. i like to hear you, for you are maid and friend in one. yes, child," she went on, taking the sweet upturned face in her hand caressingly, "you are the only woman i ever loved; the only friend i ever had." she sank back wearily upon the divan, and penelophon stooped and kissed in deep devotion the little white foot she held in her hand before she hid it in the slipper. "why do you do that, child?" asked her mistress. "i don't know," answered penelophon; "but you are so kind, and i am so happy, and you love trecenito so." the girls great dark eyes were brimming with tears as she looked up, and her mistress saw them. "why, child," she said, "you love him too!" "no, no," said penelophon eagerly, a faint blush tinting her pale face. "i do not love him. he is high above where my love can reach. i adore him and worship him, and it is you i love because you love him. there is no one but you in the wide world whom such a man as he could love. it is only such a one as you who can know how to love him, and that is why you are so dear to me. you are the sweet saint that helps me to reach the throne of my heaven. it is like worship to tire your hair, and dress you, and send you away in all your beauty to make him glad. you are the prayers i say to him, and the hymns i sing, and the sweet incense i offer to my god." "my child, my child," said her mistress in a hushed voice, as of one who speaks in some vast, solemn cathedral, "whence and what are you? it is only the angels who love like that. surely it was one of them who whispered in my ear that i should ask him to give you to me." "yes," answered the maid, "and it was surely one that brought you to him, because they knew how good he would be to me. 'he must not wait for paradise,' they said. 'we will bring him a wife as bright and pure and beautiful as the heavens, and he shall have a paradise on earth.' so they brought you to him, and they will show him the sunshine in your face, and the blue sky that slumbers in your eyes; he shall feel the warm glow of your lips, and know it is the spirit of life; he shall hear the murmur of your voice, and know it is the echo of the prayers which the saints have prayed." "hush! hush!" said her mistress, almost beneath her breath. "you must not speak so. you frighten me. i am not what you think. god help me! i am not what you think. and yet, child, yet i believe you would almost make me what you say. ah me! if i had had a sister such as you! sing to me, child, while i lie and think what i am and what i might have been." penelophon rose, and took a kind of lute, which was the instrument of the people, and began to sing to it some half moorish love-song, full of those slurs and weird modulations which sound so strange to european ears. but penelophon's plaintive voice had a fascination for her mistress, and she lay quite still listening till the end. as the song finished, the door opened, and monsieur de tricotrin came in. "my child," said he, "i want to speak to you." "alone?" "yes, alone." "go then, penelophon," said mlle de tricotrin; "but come back and talk to me before i dress." "it is a pretty wench the king gave you," said the marquis, as the beggar-maid left the room. "i doubt if she helps much when he sees you together." "but i am very fond of her, sir!" "that is what i fancy is the case with him." "no, that is impossible. a man could never be taken with a child like her." "you must remember, my dear," said the marquis, "they have been playing hero and heroine together in a very romantic drama? you know?" "perfectly, sir; penelophon has told me." "and yet you do not believe a man may be infatuated with her?" "no, sir. she has nothing to charm a man." "well, i have reasons for what i say." "indeed, sir." "yes. to begin with, turbo, the chancellor, is crazy about her." "that was but the passing fancy of a brutal nature." "my dear, you are quite mistaken. he is crazy still." "you surely must be joking, sir." "not at all. in fact, it is on this very subject i came to speak. he wants you to give her up to him." "i would rather give up the throne!" cried she warmly. "softly, my child," said the marquis. "do not decide this matter too hastily. a throne is not a thing to be lightly cast on one side for the sake of a miserable little beggar-girl." "yes; but that is not the question now." "my dear, it is the question." "you do not mean----" "i mean simply that the chancellor asks your maid as the price of his adhesion, and without his adhesion we cannot succeed. that is all. i call it really handsome." "and i--i call it infamous!" cried mlle de tricotrin hotly. "it is a villainy, and i will never consent to it!" "my dear," said the marquis soothingly, "what a fuss to make about this miserable creature. it is a mere matter of business; for you can hardly call a beggar a human being. equality and fraternity are all very well, but that would be going too far." "i know your principles of equality well enough, sir, and i do not call this poor girl human. she is an angel, and he--he is a fiend that penelophon dreams of and wakes screaming. she shudders when she even thinks of him, and the sight of him is a horror that paralyses her. no, no; i will not part with her. you have my answer, sir." "my child," said the marquis calmly, in spite of his vexation, "i am not pleased with you. you are talking very foolishly. i did not ask you for an answer now, and i will not take one. this evening, ere you retire for the night, i will hear your decision. turbo will be in waiting, and you can send the girl to him to be got out of the way, or else you can let her stay for the king to marry, whichever you like. remember what has happened in this country before, and remember the character of the present sovereign. that is all i ask at present. i will leave you to consider the matter." with these words m. de tricotrin went abruptly from the room. he saw he had made an impression upon his daughter by what he had said, and he was an old enough hand at the game of persuading women to know the value of allowing impressions so made to ferment by themselves. he knew that further discussion would only disturb her and arrest the process, till perhaps what he considered a mere girlish fantastic mood would become solidified into a wholly illogical and obstinate determination which might afterwards prove quite insoluble. "women," he used to say, "have no opinions. they have merely contradictory states of mind, which serve them indifferently instead. they are states of mind which live upon contradictions. failing this they perish, and, consequently, as a state of mind of some kind is a moral necessity, to women no less than to men, in the absence of external contradiction, they will soon contradict themselves." whether the marquis's theory has any real scientific value is a matter of doubt. it is merely interesting here as the one upon which he acted with his daughter. she was not always easy to manage. she was naturally a woman of spirit, and, moreover, quite understood the high pecuniary value her father placed upon her. she had known all her life that she was the best card he had to play, and that now she was the only one. it is not to be wondered at then, that, being human, she from time to time showed a strong disposition to have a say in the game. the marquis saw she was in one of her antagonistic moods now; so, as we have said, he left the poisonous barm he had dexterously planted to ferment and produce the metamorphosis he desired. mlle de tricotrin did not talk much to penelophon when she returned. she was occupied in trying to convince herself that no man of the world could possibly admire the girl. she had always liked the pale, delicate face herself for its purity and dreamy simplicity. she could imagine, perhaps, a painter, or a sculptor, or a poet--yes, but was not kophetua a poet after all? were not all the high-flown democratic opinions which he was constantly expressing nothing but the love of a poet for nature, and the base multitude whom he idealised as the children of nature? she was conscious of feeling distinctly colder to her maid, as she was being dressed for count kora's rout, to which she was going that evening. but penelophon saw no difference, and she fondled her idol's lustrous hair, and caressed the soft folds of her gown as lovingly as ever; and when all was done rejoiced as unaffectedly in the surpassing beauty she was sending forth as her offering to the hero she worshipped. the marquis did not refer again to the subject at his heart; but as he ascended the stairs of the kora palace, he gently stirred the fermentation he had set up. "you know, my child," he said blandly, "that your presence here to-night finally marks you as the accepted candidate of the kallists." "you have told me so, sir." "and you know that there remain now only two persons to gain." "you mean, sir, i presume----" "the chancellor and the king. to-night you will either win or lose the former. you have to play a stroke which will count more than everything we have done. you understand?" "yes, sir." "then, as you are determined to refuse the price turbo asks for his alliance, you had better try and win him by the other way in which you are so clever, my dear." "he is invulnerable to those weapons, sir. i might as well try to charm the wind." "then i suppose we must call him lost." mlle de tricotrin did not answer. it was a good sign. the marquis felt hopeful, and determined to assure the chancellor that if he would be present at the time and place appointed he would not be disappointed. chapter xiv. "moribundus amor." "what is thy name, faire maid? quoth he. penelophon, o king, quoth she." count kora's rout did little to restore mlle de tricotrin's peace of mind. to be sure kophetua was there. he was fond of society, and went freely amongst his rout-giving subjects. kophetua talked with mlle de tricotrin, but somehow he did not seem so animated as usual. it is true they spoke in the same familiar tone as before, but for the first time the spice of growing intimacy was wanting. it is the most intoxicating flavour that conversation can have, and nothing is more banal than the sense of staleness when it ceases. to-night was one of these occasions for these two. their words seemed dead, and every effort which mlle de tricotrin made to restore their life was unavailing. in vain did she pose in her privileged _rôle_ as his gentle philosopher. in vain did she tempt him to further confessions, and raise the deep questions which before had always made him speak so low and earnestly. a damp and chilly pall seemed to overhang them, and she felt the familiar path which was once so gay and sweet with flowers was now worn bare, and had no longer any power to charm. all her noble sentiments and pretty fancies, for which he had been so greedy, were now like empty husks she was offering him. the grain was gone. she knew that the king felt it too, and was not amused or even interested. she knew he was loyally making efforts not to fall back from the point they had reached together, but soon he changed the conversation to the lightest banter. he even began to pay her compliments. then the bitter truth against which she was struggling seemed to gain a sudden strength. it framed itself in words upon her lips, and she said to herself, "he is getting tired of me." her sad conviction was only strengthened when at last, as with a forlorn hope of keeping up the tone of their talk to the pitch of confidential friendliness which it had previously attained, kophetua broached a subject which was peculiar to themselves. their secret, as he fondly thought it, was his last resource to recall the delight which he had been accustomed to find in her society. for in spite of all his certainty that she was playing a deep game with him, and using against his heart a whole battery of carefully prepared weapons, yet he was obliged to confess that her society had been irresistibly delightful, and he was resolved not to let the sweet cup pass away from him without at least another draught. "how is our penelophon, mademoiselle?" he asked. "in the best of health, sire," she answered, perhaps a little coldly. "i can never thank you enough," he went on, "for being so kind to her." "i do nothing for her, sire," she replied, with that little laugh that means everything but enjoyment. "at least, nothing that a mistress will not do for a faithful maid, and one whom she has so much reason to make a favourite." "oh, but you do," he answered; "i have seen, for instance, how you try to please the poor child with those gowns in which she looks so pretty." "had i known your majesty observed her so closely," she said, "i should hardly have dared to show my interest in her so plainly; but i ought to have guessed that you would feel a more than passing interest in a girl whom you had rescued so romantically." "then she has told you the whole story?" asked the king, with a shade of annoyance in his voice. "yes." "then you can understand the interest i must feel in her future." "perfectly," answered mlle de tricotrin. "it must have such a charming flavour of the old ballad for you." "i am not very fond of ballads," said the king, a little distantly. "i am sorry, sire," she answered simply, "because they have for me such a delicious savour of nature. i was going to ask you to tell me the name of the beggar in the story. i had a fancy for calling my maid by it." "do you not know?" asked the king, looking at her fixedly. "no," she answered, meeting his look with perfect frankness, for she was speaking the truth; "i have never heard or seen the ballad." "she was called penelophon," said the king, with an embarrassed laugh. mlle de tricotrin gave a genuine start of surprise. "is your majesty serious?" she said. "perfectly." "what a strange coincidence!" their conversation had been getting colder and colder. by some evil influence kophetua seemed to be choosing the worst things he could say, and mlle de tricotrin replying with everything that was best calculated to annoy the king. it had reached at last to a painful iciness, and the embarrassment which now fell upon them both froze it altogether. they sat in silence, each knowing perfectly that the other was thinking something it would be a wide breach of manners to say, and that is almost worse than saying it. yet they need not have been so embarrassed, for, as it happened, it was no coincidence at all. the old tradition still grew green within the liberties of st. lazarus, and there were few families in which one of the women was not named penelophon. still the beggars kept so much to themselves that this very natural custom was not generally known, and certainly it had never come to the ears of the king or mlle de tricotrin. hence their embarrassment was as great as if it had been well-founded, and was most happily relieved by the count desiring to know if his majesty would take a dish of tea. it was perhaps more than a coincidence which later in the evening caused kophetua to ask m. de tricotrin what he thought of the new american republic. his interview with mlle de tricotrin seemed to put matrimony further from him than ever, and his abdication was staring him in the face. he began to see it was unavoidable, and his innate moral courage and conscientiousness made him cast about for a light in which the inevitable should appear a duty that he chose for himself to perform. more than ever he began to wonder whether his position were not a crime, and whether plain morality did not bid him resign and form a republic. the marquis, with his revolutionary ideas, was naturally the man to help him along the road by which alone his moral escape could be made. he determined to lose no time in getting the help he expected, seeing that m. de tricotrin, like all frenchmen of fashion, was ready to express a passionate admiration of the american constitution. "as a republic," said the marquis, in answer to the king, "if i may so far express myself in your majesty's presence,--as a republic, i look upon it as one of the sublimest emanations of the human brain." "pray do not apologise for your opinions," replied the king; "they are entirely in accord with my own. i myself regard a republic as an institution so divine that i am tempted to look upon a king as amongst the worst of criminals." "there," said the marquis, with deferential positiveness, "your majesty, and i differ entirely. i look upon a king as the greatest of human benefactors." "but, my dear marquis," said the king, "your two positions are flatly contradictory." "with submission," answered the marquis, "it seems to me that one is the corollary of the other. it is because i so admire a republic that i also venerate the institution of hereditary monarchy." "i must positively congratulate you, marquis," said the king, "on your inimitable genius for paradox. it is most wittily conceived; but, seriously, i want your opinion." "and seriously i give it you, sire," said the marquis, in whose political programme the resignation of kophetua found no place. "then permit me to say," answered the king, "that i entirely fail to understand your opinion." "and yet," said the marquis, "it is not so obscure. your majesty will admit that the most perfect republic is that in which the greatest amount of power remains actually in the hands of the sovereign people in their corporate capacity." "certainly," answered the king. "the less a constitution necessitates the delegation of authority to officers, and especially to a chief officer, the more perfectly republican it is." "very well," pursued the frenchman. "then as a chief officer of some kind is necessary, the first question to solve is the manner of his appointment. now if you elect him, it is certain that some real power will slip into his hands. it is even necessary that it should, in order to give dignity to the office. for since he is unadorned with the panoply of heredity, a lack of dignity will always be a difficulty about your elected chief officer. for the same reason the elective machinery must be such as to ensure, as far as is humanly possible, that the cleverest man in the state shall be chosen; otherwise your majesty sees that the government of which he is head will not receive the respect that is necessary to stability." "so far i perceive your meaning," answered the king. "it is that there is no instinctive reverence felt by the vulgar for an elected president. he is, as it were, a mere chip carved by the elective machine from the mass of the community. therefore for sentimental reasons--that is, in order that he may be endowed with that weight of authority which is the mainspring of cheerful obedience to the law--it is necessary that he should be an extraordinary man, with extraordinary powers." "exactly," said the marquis; "and it is precisely there that you find the weak point of the non-monarchical republic, if your majesty will allow me the expression. it is a form of government which involves an almost fatal inconsistency. it gives you as a leading idea the election of one man in whom the ultimate legislative and administrative powers must be vested to a greater or less extent, and this very man is also, by the fundamental theory of the system, the most dangerous person to whom those powers can be committed, seeing that, as he is the citizen of the highest political ability, he is also the man best able to abuse them to his own advantage. i would submit then, sire, that this paradox, which is inherent in all constitutions like the american--although theoretically that is the best that was ever devised--is beyond expression more remarkable than that of which your majesty accuses me. it is a paradox which shows us how a kingless commonwealth is like an arch: apparently it is perfectly stable, and yet from the first day of its erection it is exerting a force which tends to its own destruction." "well, i must admit," answered the king, "the existence of this paradox. you make it quite clear to me that it is a real objection to what you call a non-monarchical republic; but, at the same time, the vice is obviously far greater in an hereditary monarchy." "if your majesty will pardon me," replied the marquis, who felt his blood getting up as his hobby pranced beneath him, "i think i can show you that this is not so." "if you can," answered the king, with some irritation at the disappointment he felt in his expected ally, "may i die if you could not show anything!" "and yet it is not so difficult," continued the marquis. "your majesty will observe, if i may so far presume in the cause of truth, that the real merit of hereditary monarchy in the eyes of all enlightened publicists is this: it involves the assumption that the chief officer of the state should always be a man of ordinary capacity, and, as far as possible, without political aspirations or abilities. that is the very essence of the hereditary principle." "really, marquis," said kophetua, a little nettled, "it is a charming doctrine to address to a king." "your majesty will pardon me," pursued the marquis hastily, "in the cause of truth. we have arrived then at this position: a chief officer appointed on the hereditary principle is the best, as assuring the lowest possible intellect which we can reach without bringing the office into contempt; and thus we see that a limited monarchy, such as england or your majesty's own state, is the only true form of republic, in that it distinctly repudiates the idea that the head of the community is in any way its ruler, or fit to be its ruler." "in fact," said kophetua bitterly, "we kings are only perfect in our imperfection, and useful in so far as we are useless." "god forbid that your majesty should put such a cynical paradox on me," cried the marquis. "your usefulness is extreme. the necessity for your perfection cannot be exaggerated. i have said that you represent the lowest point of capacity which is consistent with the safety of the state. it is there that you have the advantage over a president. in you the minimum of capacity may be extremely low without danger, seeing that there is a divinity clinging about the kingly office which is entirely absent from any elective magistrate. you are the visible emblem of law and order. you are instituted as the personification of loyalty. without such a personification the feeling cannot exist amongst the vulgar. precisely in the same way and on the same grounds wise men long ago invented god as a personification of morality. there is no visible reason why you should be head of the state more than any one else--an advantage which an elected officer of course cannot enjoy. in default of a visible reason, the people's instinctive faith in the existing institution invents for them one that is supernatural and mystic. you are to politics what the deity is to ethics, with the additional advantage that you really exist. no position could possibly be more respectable." "or more degrading," kophetua broke in. "it is a noble and inspiring conviction for a man that he is an idol to sit and wag his head when some one pulls the string." "your majesty is unjustly severe upon the office," said the marquis. "to me it is the most ennobling a man can hold; for it involves the duty of fostering a love of law and order by attaching the people to your own person by ties of affection. with action forbidden you, you have to make yourself popular and respected. it is a task of the utmost difficulty, and only to be accomplished by the highest nobility of character. it is a task," continued the frenchman, with a profound bow, "in which your majesty has entirely succeeded. in you, at least, to resign would be criminal." "marquis," said kophetua, after a pause, with that expression of lofty sentiment which sometimes illumined his handsome face, "you give me the richest of gifts. you give me a new point of view, and from it i see a prospect of surpassing beauty." m. de tricotrin's conversation with the king made him more eager than ever to win the assistance of turbo. he had made another impression, he was sure. he had found the king quite content not to marry in the prospect of forming a republic. he had left him with the seed of a desire for a wife that he might continue to be a king. but kophetua must not be left alone. he was a man, and had opinions. it was absolutely necessary to ensure that turbo would cultivate instead of rooting out the good impression. then, with penelophon secretly removed out of the way--and the king need never know how it was done--the course would be clear for his own daughter. chapter xv. two victims. "i doe rejoyce that you wil take me for your choyce, and my degree's so base." considerable as was the anxiety which count kora's rout caused the marquis de tricotrin, his state of mind as he was carried home was enviable compared to that of his daughter. he at least had the relief of active scheming to console him, but she could only lean back in her chair and confess herself utterly miserable. so deep was her melancholy that she found herself wondering if she were not really in love with the handsome, high-souled prince. but the thought had no sooner framed itself than a bitter smile crossed her beautiful face, and she mocked away the only consolation that could lighten her sorrow. "how i befool myself," she murmured, "to think i grieve for his love! it is for his power and his throne that i sigh. i know that well enough. it is all i care for." poor mlle de tricotrin! she had long ceased to credit herself with one good thought, with one womanly motive. her education had been such that it would have been strange if she had had any self-respect left. deprived in babyhood of a mother's love and care, she had been left entirely in the hands of her selfish and ambitious father. he was a man no better, and perhaps not much worse, than his fellows--a self-seeking courtier, who clung with the rest to the sickly heart of france, and sucked its blood till the revolution came and swept them all away, like the noxious parasites they were. till then their one idea was to get a better place, where they could suck a fuller draught, and to that end they pushed and schemed and struggled, and thought no sacrifice too great. it was the "court of petticoats" where m. de tricotrin strove with the rest. women ruled supreme. hitherto the marquis had not been successful. he had learnt by bitter experience that the only path to wealth and fame lay in the track of a fascinating woman. but each of them had her crowd of jostling followers; and time after time, as he had tried to grasp the flying skirts, he had been thrust out and left behind. he was almost in despair when, after a long period of neglect, he chanced to visit his little motherless daughter at the convent where she was placed. she had grown from babyhood to be a lovely child since he had seen her last, and he at once recognised the promise of extraordinary beauty that she showed. a few hours spent with her assured him of the brightness of her wit and the fascination of her manners, and he saw that a new career and a new interest was before him. his determination was taken at once. she was removed from the convent and taken to paris; for the marquis had resolved to fit her for a position which was thoroughly understood in paris alone. it was the position to which nothing was denied, to which all things were open. it was the throne before which the greatest, the most sagacious, the most upright, statesmen had to bow--before which even the proudest ecclesiastics would cringe like hounds. who can wonder that when the brilliancy of the career was so dazzling, that the shame on which it rested could hardly be seen? for this, then, was mlle de tricotrin brought up. for this she was taught to struggle, heedless of all but the end. the only duty which she learned was to be beautiful; her only books were the philosophic chatter which was the fashion of the hour; her only friends were the creatures which that rotten society engendered, and which it seems profanity to call women. we have seen how the system succeeded. as the child came to womanhood, the marquis knew his triumph had been greater than he had ever hoped. he saw his daughter courted and petted, and he laughed to see the skill and delight with which she played her part. for no one can blame the poor child that her head was turned. the extravagant admiration with which she was everywhere greeted told her that the most honoured and powerful position in france was almost within her grasp. then came the crash. the long-nursed hopes were shattered to the ground, and father and daughter had to fly the country before the rising storms of the revolution. in england m. de tricotrin hoped to find a new arena for his child; but poor _émigrés_ were too plentiful, and english ideas so unintelligible, and he could nowhere find even a beginning. broken in hopes and health, he was forced at last to the south, as we have seen. it could hardly be that, to a girl of mlle de tricotrin's natural refinement, moments of regret and repentance did not sometimes come; but they had always been stifled with the excitement of her personal triumphs. to win the power that belongs by nature to men, she had been trained to fling away the most precious treasures of women, and she did it with a light heart in the intoxication of the game. but when the lull came her self-reproach grew so constant as to be almost a pain, and so infected her as to become something she could not entirely throw off again. the pure presence and innocent talk of penelophon had only served to make her trouble more distinct. the beggar-maid was the first real woman she had ever known, and for the first time her own womanliness was really aroused in sympathy. she could see clearly what she was, and felt she could never be otherwise now. she despised herself, and knew the only solace was to brazen out her base career bravely. so she rejoiced cynically over the influence she was winning with kophetua, and despised herself in secret too much to allow there was anything good in her joy. in marrying him she would gain the queenly power for which she had struggled so hard, and for which everything had been sacrificed; and in marrying him she would also escape the path of shame, by which alone she thought the goal was to be reached. which thought was it that made her heart ache so as she reached her room that night, and saw how she was losing him? who shall tell? who can read aright the thoughts that vexed that lovely figure which had thrown itself in weary grace upon the soft divan? how can a thing so beautiful know the ugliness of sorrow? yet it is there, and tells her that kophetua is slipping from her hands, that life will be unendurable without him, and worst of all--worst of all, the only voice to which she has ever been taught to listen is whispering the old things in her ears. it is whispering what it is that has come between her and her end. she looks down at herself where she sits and thinks; she sees the gleaming beauty of her restless breasts, and the soft white arms and the obedient folds that wrap so closely the voluptuous figure; but the voice only whispers it is all of no avail. there is something between her and him; something which draws his eyes from her; something she has in her power to sweep away at a word. even as she wondered what childish scruples or silly affection it was that made her hesitate, the door opened and her father broke into the midst of her temptation. for a while he held the door in his hand, and stood admiring her as she lay curled upon the divan. at last she looked up at him with a deep-drawn breath, as though to brace herself for the crisis she saw was at hand. "my child," said the marquis, as he caught her glance, "you did not look well to-night. are you ill?" "no, sir." "was not the king pleased with you, then?" "no, sir." "that is most unfortunate," said the marquis, in a feigned tone of extreme anxiety. "he was in a very strange humour to-night." "yes, sir?" said mlle de tricotrin, assuming an air of complete indifference. "he spoke to me in a very extraordinary manner," continued her father. "it causes me no inconsiderable anxiety." "what did he say, sir?" said she, apparently as little concerned as ever. m. de tricotrin told his daughter all the opinions which the king had expressed to him, and which led him to believe that he had determined to remain a bachelor, and let things take their course; but he omitted all the arguments by which he considered he had so successfully opposed the king's intention. "so you see, my dear," he concluded, "that our quixotic kophetua is bent on abdication and a republic." mlle de tricotrin had listened attentively as her father unfolded to her the king's indifference as to whether he reigned or not. it was the last blow on her already shattered resolution. she saw one more guarantee of her ultimate success disappearing. though she could not own it to herself, the very loftiness and unselfishness of the king's ideas made her desire him more. it was more than she could bear, added to the load of temptation under which she already struggled. suddenly laying aside her indifference, she started up in her seat, and, with a violent gesture, cried out, "he shall not abdicate!" "how will you prevent it?" asked the marquis, unmoved. "i cannot prevent it; but turbo can, and he shall!" "but you forget there is a price to pay first, my child." "no, i do not, sir. i remember it very well. it is not a thing to forget so soon. bad as you have made me, i have not yet been guilty of so many sins that this one should be lost in the throng." "well, well, my child, we need not go into ethics now. do i understand that you mean to pay the chancellor his price." "i do." "i congratulate you on your good sense." "i want no congratulations. i only want a throne; and for that i am ready to disgrace myself, as you have taught me, sir. so if you will tell me how this business is to be arranged, it shall be done." "turbo will be in the street on which the little garden door opens. you can send her to him with a note, and he will manage the rest. see, here is a letter that i have already prepared." "what is in it, sir?" "nothing; it is a mere pretence." "does he really mean to come in person?" "yes; it is more than he can afford to intrust his secret to another." "when will he be here?" "in a quarter of an hour." "then pray leave me, sir, and i will see that she is there too." "my child," said the marquis, laying his hand with awkward affection on the warm brown hair, "i am very pleased with you. i have never seen you more sensible." she shook his hand off with a gesture of disgust, and with a shrug he left the room. it was some time before she could gather her cruelty sufficiently to summon penelophon. she knew well enough that the indignation with which she had at first repudiated her father's suggestion was due to the beneficent influence which the purity and innocence of her handmaid had upon her. she had been talking to her then, and the charming sweetness of her presence had expelled the devil she had taken to herself. that influence away, the sight of what she longed for still receding, had brought the evil spirit back, and she had resolved that this thing should cease. whether penelophon appeared to her as an actual obstacle in the path of her ambition, or as a siren who beckoned her away from the worldly road in which alone she had faith, it was clear that the girl must be cast away. and, after all, where was the crime? penelophon would only go to a lot which she herself had lived for. it was only the child's silly prudery that frightened her. but that would soon pass. yet, how the poor thing loathed the man to whom she was sold, and how she adored him who had saved her from his embraces! and no wonder, when he had dared so much to make the rescue. that was it. he, her own king, had dared too much for the girl. she could not forgive her for that; and, resolved at last, she clapped her hands. penelophon answered to the call immediately; and the sight of her delicate form in the doorway disturbed her mistress strangely. she looked so tender and fragile a thing to be flung out, as it were, to the beasts; and the iniquity of mlle de tricotrin's resolve grew very distinct to her. to add to her mistress's distress, the girl came forward with the same glad smile with which she always greeted the summons of her idolised protector; and mlle de tricotrin's heart beat faster at the sight of her devotion. "will you undress now?" asked penelophon, as her mistress only looked at her and did not speak. "not yet, penelophon," was the answer. "i have something i want you to do. it is a little thing, and yet my happiness depends upon it." "will it bring trecenito nearer to you, then?" asked penelophon. "yes, it will bring him nearer--very near indeed, penelophon." "and you will let me do this little thing?" said the maid. "yes," answered mlle de tricotrin; "it is you i ask to do it, because i know how you love me." "ah!" cried penelophon, clasping her hands before her mistress, in an attitude of glad devotion; "but i wish it were a great thing you asked of me, and then i could show you indeed how i love you and him." "nay, there is no need," said mlle de tricotrin, feeling that a choking sensation was coming in her throat. "i know how you love us, and long to see us one; and now i have but a little thing for you to do." "what must it be, then?" "only to take a note to a man who is waiting in the street by the little garden door." "what, now? to-night? in the dark?" exclaimed penelophon, her great dark eyes dilating with sudden fear. "yes, now. you are not afraid of the dark?" "no; but i dread what is in the dark," the girl answered, shuddering. "why, what is it you fear?" "it is a terrible thing. you cannot know how terrible. it is wrapped in a cloak, and it limps as it goes, and it glares at me. even in my own soft bed at your feet it glares at me, so that i have to creep close to you before it will go away." "why, child, that is only a baby's fancy. you will not meet it," answered mlle de tricotrin, steadying her voice with difficulty; for her breath was coming thick, and her heart was beating fast, to see the poor girl's terror. "yes, i know," answered penelophon, in an awe-hushed voice; "but as i looked at the stars just now, and wondered which was yours, and which was trecenito's, and which was my little one, i saw it pass under the window. it limped and glared, and was wrapped in its cloak. oh, i saw it!" she cried, again covering her face in terror,--"i saw it, and it will be there to glare at me when i open the gate. oh, i dare not go! can you not send another?" "no, penelophon," said her mistress, after a pause; for she was hardly able to speak in her growing agitation. "it is only you that will do. i promised you should take the letter, as a token that it came indeed from me. so be brave, child. on you it all depends. be brave this once, and then trecenito will be mine, and we shall both be always with him." the iniquitous deceit of her words seemed to stab her like a knife, and for shame she dared not so much as look at her humble maid. she felt that one more of those devoted, trusting looks from the girl's dog-like eyes would overcome her. so she did not see how penelophon drew herself up and set her lips, and she was surprised to hear her speak quite calmly and cheerfully again. "and will it really bring you and trecenito together if i go?" she said. "yes," answered her mistress; "and it is the only thing that will." "then i will go," said penelophon. "where is the note i shall take?" "i will write it," said her mistress. the sight of the maid she loved so well--and yet, as she thought, had such cause to hate--and the devotion with which she overcame her terror, had softened mlle de tricotrin out of her former hard mood, although she knew it was only the girl's deep love for kophetua that gave her the strength she showed. still she was softened, and determined not to let her go without one little attempt to lighten the terrible lot to which she was condemning her. so she reached to the dwarf table beside the divan, and wrote on the blank paper which her father had given her this short note:-- "here is the price you ask for your adhesion. use her kindly, as you value the love of "hÉloise de tricotrin." she folded the note and addressed it; but her heart beat so hard and her breath came so thick that she could not speak as she handed it to penelophon. the girl took it, kissed the white hand that gave it, and then turned to go. it was well-nigh more than mlle de tricotrin could endure to see such simple faith and love in her victim, and a tear had fallen on the hand the maid had kissed. there came to her a sudden sense that she was looking for the last time on the child in whom she had found the only pure delight she could ever remember, who had shown her how holy is the unstained soul of a woman, who had made her almost feel worthy to be a true wife to kophetua. she could not let her part so to the sacrifice, where the poor lamb was to lose all that she might win her little end; and suddenly she started to her feet. "penelophon!" she cried, in a strange, unnatural voice, in spite of a great effort to control herself. the girl came back directly, looking anxiously into her mistress's troubled face. then mlle de tricotrin saw how the dark eyes were brimming with tears, and in an uncontrollable impulse she threw her arms about the beggar-maid's neck, and kissed her passionately on either cheek. "now begone quickly," she said to the wondering girl; and penelophon, in a transport of delight at her mistress's affection, tripped lightly away to the garden. for a moment mlle de tricotrin stood with hard-clenched hands, and stared at the door that had closed on her victim. then a convulsive sob shook her lovely form, and she cast herself prostrate upon the divan in an agony of tears. chapter xvi. a night march. "the beggar blusheth scarlet red, and straight againe as pale as lead, she was in such amaze." with her terror almost forgotten in the memory of her mistress's caress, penelophon ran down into the garden, and kept on bravely till she came to the little door which led out into the street. here she paused; for so great was the horror she felt for the world outside ever since the terrible night on which the king had rescued her, that it was all she could do to find courage enough to open it. she could not persuade herself that the eyes were not waiting to glare at her on the other side; but at last she hardened her poor fluttering heart to lift the latch and look out. it was very dark. there was no light but what the stars gave, and a dim old oil lamp that swung groaning on a chain across the road. she could see nothing of what she dreaded, and this gave her heart to step out into the street to find the man who was to receive the note. in her anxiety to get her painful duty over, she went as far as where the street turned round the corner of the garden to see if he were coming. not a trace of any one could she detect; so, putting the note into her bosom, she flitted back, to wait a little within the shelter of the door. she had hardly reached it when she stopped, frozen with horror. the door was shut, and out of the dark recess where it was the thing she dreaded was looking at her. that was all she could see. if the glaring presence had any form, it was hidden in the black shadow of the doorway. only the two eyes burned, with a dim and terrible glow which paralysed her. she knew not what to do. she dared not approach the thing for fear it would take hold of her, and her limbs refused to fly. at last there was a low hoarse chuckle of satisfied greed, which made the blood fly to her face, as it recalled a memory of her day of terror. she found the light of the lamp was falling full on her, so that the eyes could see her well, and that suddenly gave her strength to turn and run. the thing sprang out after her with another coarse chuckle; but she ran on bravely. soon she heard the deep-drawn breath of her pursuer sounding hoarsely behind. closer and closer it drew, and made her feet feel like lead. she was like one in a fevered dream, when at the critical moment the limbs refused their office. with the blank dread we only know in distempered slumber, she fancied she was falling, when the hoarse breath all at once was at her ear, and the thing seized her. she tried to scream; but her despairing cry was choked by a hood that was drawn tightly over her face. the monster's arms clasped her about roughly, and she felt herself hurried along in spite of her frantic struggles to escape. turbo had her safely at last. he laughed to himself, and cracked coarse jokes to his burden as he limped hastily along. he was a strong man in spite of his deformity, and penelophon soon desisted from her hopeless resistance, so that it was not long before he reached the street in which his own house stood. his fiendish glee increased as he saw himself so near his end; but suddenly he stopped, and a low curse hissed on his snarling lips. for even as he entered the street the cheerful clatter of horses' feet at the other end of it fell on his ear. what could they be? there were many together, and that was a sound that was never heard in the capital at night. still they were coming towards him, whatever they were; and he hurried on, hoping to reach his own door before they would see him. there was plenty of time if he made haste; but all at once it seemed that the same sounds had reached his burden's ear, for she began struggling again desperately. he could hold her no longer, and was obliged to put her down. now he could hear the clink of steel as well as the tramp of hoofs; and, uttering furious threats beneath his breath, he tried to drag penelophon along; but his anger and frantic efforts were useless. all he could do was to get with his charge against the wall of his garden, when he was surrounded by some dozen horsemen. then he cursed himself again; for he knew he had encountered the first detachment of the frontier gendarmerie, whom, by his own encouragement, kophetua had ordered to be concentrated on the capital. it had been arranged that they were to enter the city by night as quietly as possible, in order that the beggars might take no alarm. that had been his own suggestion; and here was the end of it. still he determined to brave it through, and cried out to them to know what they did hustling an honest man and his child at that time of night. "soho! my night-hawk," cried the officer of the party, in a round laughing voice; "is that your note? 'sblood! then we'll sing a chorus, for 'tis ours too." the troopers all laughed together at their leader's wit, and turbo eyed his man to see what stuff was in him. it was too dark to make out his face under the high-plumed helmet which he seemed to wear so jauntily, but the chancellor could see he was a tall fellow, who sat his horse with a defiant air. his toes were stretched out impudently in the stirrups, and his right arm was well bowed, and rested knuckles down on his thigh, with quite a splendid swagger. altogether he looked formidable enough as he sat laughing on his tall horse, with the brilliant uniforms and glittering accoutrements of his men faintly discernible in a semicircle at his back. "my note is low enough," said the chancellor, with affected humility, when his inspection and the laughter were done. "i only ask to pass on quietly with my daughter." "so you shall, my bully, when we know why you tie up pretty faces in hoods, and why pretty figures struggle in your arms. so come, my bully night-hawk, unhood, unhood!" "i tell you it is but my daughter!" cried turbo angrily. "let me pass, or the king shall hear of it!" "ho-ho!" cried the officer, as merrily as ever. "will a beggar out of bounds try to frighten the king's own gendarmerie of the guard with the king's own name. no, no, my joker; come, give her up." penelophon gave a start as she heard the officer's words, and tried to tear the hood from her head. turbo dragged her roughly behind him, and stood confronting the officer, who spurred his horse forward. "stand back!" cried turbo; "stand back, at your peril! i am the chancellor. can you not see? stand back! i command you." "and i, sink me!" cried the officer, drawing his sabre, "am the king, and the general, and the beggar emperor all in one; so let her go, and take that for your insolent lie." as he uttered the word, he gave the chancellor a wringing blow across the shoulders with the flat of his sabre. turbo drew back; but the officer spurred on to repeat the chastisement. "let her go, you scurvy hound! let her go, i say! or, 'sblood! you shall have the edge." turbo saw but one way to escape the now infuriated soldier. in a frenzy of passion to be so balked again, he brutally thrust the blinded girl before the restive horse, so that to avoid trampling on her the officer had to curb it on to its haunches. with ungainly activity the chancellor took advantage of the delay to spring along the wall towards the spot where, as in all the houses in the city, a door gave him admission into his own garden. "stop the cur! stop him!" cried the officer. "cut him down, or anything. zounds! will you let him laugh at our noses like this?" two men wheeled like hawks at the hurrying chancellor with uplifted sabres. in another instant it seemed he must be slashed with the gleaming blade that was nearest him, when suddenly he stopped and turned. there was a flash, a sharp report, a cloud of smoke, and the gendarme threw up his hands with a choking cry. the officer dashed to his side to seize the assassin; but as he cleared the smoke he found the man he sought had vanished. at the door which he fancied he had heard shut he drew rein. it was there he suspected the man had escaped him, and leaping from his saddle, he applied his head to the keyhole and listened intently. the sound of halting footsteps within fell faintly on his ear, and he shifted his attitude to hear better. presently he drew back into the middle of the street, carefully surveyed the premises, and after giving a long low whistle to himself, he returned to the wounded man with a very serious air. three or four saddles were empty, and a sergeant who was kneeling by a motionless body looked up as his commander drew near. "is he hurt?" asked the officer. the sergeant did not answer, but slowly removed his helmet. the officer and all the men did the same, and stood round in silence, till the dying man gave a shudder and then lay quite still. "right lung, sir," said the sergeant laconically. "well, get him across his saddle," said the officer, "while i look to the girl." she was still lying motionless where she had fallen, as though she had been struck with the horse's feet, or else was stifled with the hood that muffled her face. first he felt her pulse, and having ascertained that she was still alive, uncovered her head to let her breathe freely. she opened her eyes almost directly, and the officer gazed at her pale face with great interest. as he examined her attentively by the light of a lantern which the sergeant now brought, his eye fell upon the note which still remained where penelophon had placed it. he took it quietly, and read the address by the lantern light. "to his excellency the high chancellor." with no more show of interest than another low whistle betokened, he put it deliberately into his sabretache, and proceeded to revive his patient. she seemed to come round very slowly; so he gave the word to fall in, mounted his horse, and ordered penelophon to be lifted up in front of him. he had excellent reasons for taking charge of her himself. as soon as they were started again, the motion of the horse seemed to revive the fainting girl; but still she sat quite quiet, nestling with complete confidence in the officer's arms, and leaning her head upon his breast. presently she gave a long sigh of contentment, and looked up in his face with her big dark eyes. "did you not say you were trecenito's soldier?" she asked. "yes, pretty one. what of that?" answered the soldier. "ah! i thought i remembered that," she replied dreamily. "i knew you would come!" "the devil you did, child!" exclaimed the soldier. "yes; i knew trecenito would send you to take me away from that thing." "he is always kind, and loves his people," said the officer vaguely, to humour her. "is he? i don't know. but he is always kind to me, and loves me. so i knew he would send you if he could not come himself, as he did before." "did he come himself before?" asked the officer, in incredulous astonishment. "yes; and he will be so pleased with you when he knows you have saved me." the soldier could only give another long whistle, which seemed a habit with him. he began to find himself the possessor of a very mysterious case, which might turn out to his immense credit, or the reverse, and he felt the necessity of care and his utmost detective ability. "are you taking me back to my mistress," asked penelophon, after a pause. "who is your mistress?" "mlle de tricotrin. she who will be 'trecenita.'" "no; i cannot take you to her," answered the officer, for whom this new complication was almost overwhelming; "but i will take you to a safe place till trecenito tells me what to do." "very well," said penelophon contentedly, and she laid her head down on his broad breast again. he was sorely tempted to kiss the delicate face just once. it was so quiet and peaceful and childlike; but somehow she was so trusting and mysterious that he took a better view and refrained. yet it must be said that he was not sorry when, after a half-hour's ride, they reached an old hunting lodge in a remote part of the royal park, which was to be their quarters. here he put temptation out of his way by locking her in a little room which had been prepared for his own use, and giving the key to the sergeant to keep. nor did he regret his cautious action, when shortly afterwards he took an opportunity of opening the note of which he had taken possession. it seemed entirely to confirm the girl's words and his own impression--that somewhere there was some foul play to the advantage of the chancellor, whom he did not like, and to the detriment of kophetua, to whom he was devoted. then a serious crime had been committed, which must inevitably become public. one of the gendarmes of the guard had been assassinated. he had noticed windows opening after the pistol-shot. the whole affair was almost sure to leak out. to hush the matter up until he could receive personal instructions from the king was probably impossible. but then, on the other hand, there were circumstances which told him that a discreet secrecy was the line of conduct which would be most likely to commend him to all the parties implicated, and to lead to promotion. at a loss what course to take, he finally, like the sensible fellow he was, determined to do his plain duty, and report the whole affair to the commander-in-chief the first thing on the following morning. chapter xvii. "check!" "o base assyrian knight, what is thy news? let king cophetua know the truth thereof." the king next morning was pacing his library with unquiet step. he was disgusted with every one and all the world, and with nothing so much as himself. to begin with, the marquis de tricotrin's disquisition on the kingly office had made a deep and unpleasant impression upon him. he felt the frenchman was perfectly right in all he had said, and that a king, to do his duty, must be practically a nonentity. it was like a crown to his old trouble. long he had grieved over his enforced inaction, and now, just when he hoped to find an escape, and spread his wings as wide as king stork, he found himself crowned king log by the very hand, by the very facts, by the cogency of the very philosophy in which he had put his trust. it was true that the marquis had suggested to him a path by which he might still climb to the far-off heights on which his eyes were always fixed; but yet he knew it was only done to amuse him, to get him, as it were, out of the way. he was man of the world enough to know that m. de tricotrin could not have meant what he said. and yet, was it not the truth? was not the sublime life, after all, the life of moral influence rather than the life of action? was it not a grander thing to implant a living spirit of nobility into his people than to try and amend them by what were only little bits of tinkering after all? yes; no doubt the marquis was right unconsciously; but how to live the life he praised? alone, without sympathy, without encouragement, he could not do it, and there was no one to whom he could go and say, "help me!" there was no one who would even understand what he meant. at least only one, and since last night she was cut off as far as the rest. ah! if she had only been what he had almost thought her, how all his troubles would have been ended? at last he might have ceased to resist the snares and cunning of the heartless daughters of eve; he might have taken the lovely woman in his arms, to find in her beauty and refinement, in her spiritual influence and tender sympathy, the divine secret of the noble life. all that was wanting in him she would have supplied; and when those soft eyes lit up with the light of love, as they watched the efforts which she inspired, and which she alone could understand, it would be reward and encouragement enough to lead him ever onward, upward, hand in hand with her. but there were no such women now. it was only a boyish dream to think of it; and it only made him angrier with himself to recognise how much her sympathy must have been to him, since now that he had lost it he could muse so childishly. he laughed bitterly to think of himself like a baby crying for the moon, or at least for something as pure and gentle and serenely bright, and as far off and as impossible to attain. he strode to the window to watch those that came and went at the palace gates, and so dissolve his thoughts. the beggars were crouching there as usual in the blazing sunlight, making deep-blue shadows under their broad hats and voluminous turbans and tattered cloaks. here and there a leg or an arm, or a shaggy breast, baked to a ruddy brown, gave a glowing bit of colour amidst the grey of filth; and here and there in the blue shadows a forbidding face could be dimly seen distorted and screwed into deep-marked wrinkles, to keep out the fierce glare which beat on them from the parched roadway and the dusty walls. like all who pretended to any taste at that time, the king was an authority on _chiaroscuro_, and was never tired of studying the picture at his gates. but to-day it brought no sense of art. it only raised again the memory of penelophon, and then all at once perfect purity and gentleness and the serenity of an unsullied soul seemed close within his grasp. it almost alarmed him to find how that which had been a mere fancy was growing in his mind to be a possibility. he began to think his senses must be strangely unhinged if for one moment he could harbour the preposterous thought that perhaps here after all was what he sought. the painting above the hearth seemed to be gaining over him the mystic influence which he had always permitted to the old knight's armour. in vain he recalled the beggar-maid in her dirt and ignorance; in vain he told himself it could never be as long as reason remained to him. still the prospect would always be returning to him, and at each return it gained new strength. he was turning away from the window that he might not see the beggars any longer, when a commotion amongst them attracted his attention. the bright lights and blue shadows and bits of warm colour broke up and intermingled into new combinations as they lazily scrambled together to pick up some coins that had been flung to them; and then he saw hurry by them the beautiful figure of mlle de tricotrin. she was coming for her morning walk, which she always took now, at his invitation, in the shady alleys of the palace gardens. he marked her downcast looks, the graceful folds of her clinging gown, gathered daintily at her breast with a flowing knot of ribbon, and the gentle refinement which her every movement told of. he watched her as she passed beneath his window, and felt his eyes dim at the sight of the marvellous beauty that could never be his. suddenly she raised her head to look up where he was, and ere he could withdraw their eyes had met. he had seen the sad, pleading look beneath the dark lashes; he had seen the soft flush that spread over the matchless face; he had seen the shapely head bowed again in deepest resignation down upon the troubled breast as she passed on from the cold, unanswering look he gave her; and now he was pacing the room again in strange agitation. could such beauty be the outward sign of the baseness which he had been taught to believe in? if one woman could be as good and pure and gentle as penelophon, why should not another? why should not this one? if she had jarred upon him so last night, did it not show that she was not the perfect schemer he had thought her? a knock at the door came to his relief. it was the chancellor's hour of audience, and turbo entered as calm and snarling and business-like as ever. "good morning, chancellor," said the king, as usual. "is there any business?" "none, sire," answered turbo--"at least, none of mine; but i believe general dolabella has something to report." "why, what is that?" exclaimed the king. "oh, nothing, i fancy," said the chancellor. "some blunder of the officer in command of the party of gendarmes who arrived last night. there was a stupid brawl with the townsfolk, or something of that kind." "but that seems to me serious," said the king, "considering how necessary secrecy is to my purpose. let him be admitted at once." general dolabella was ushered in, wearing a look of tremendous mystery and importance, and with official brevity reported that a party of gendarmes arriving in the city during the previous night had encountered a man maltreating a girl, and that in endeavouring to arrest him and prevent further violence, one of the privates had been shot dead by the miscreant; "and if your majesty pleases," concluded the general, with an even greater air of mystery than before, "the officer is in attendance to give further details." "i will question him immediately," said the king. "would your majesty wish to make the examination in private?" said turbo. "if so, i will retire." "i see no occasion," answered the king, before the commander-in-chief could interpose. "besides, i shall probably need your assistance. let the officer enter." the hero of the last night's adventure was at once introduced. he saluted the king with spirit, and then stood rigidly at attention, without in the least noticing the chancellor. "this is a most grave affair, sir," began the king. "have you any light to throw on the parties concerned?" "i believe, sire, i have identified the girl," replied the gendarme. "and who do you suppose she is?" "she is a servant of mlle de tricotrin. "in what capacity?" "i do not know, sire; but it may elucidate the point if i inform your majesty of a curious statement she made to me." "well, sir, proceed," said the king, as the officer hesitated. "she spoke very strangely," replied the gendarme, "of having been rescued from some danger by your majesty." "and what of the man?" asked the king, endeavouring to conceal his interest. "as to that, i cannot speak with such certainty," answered the officer. "but of what kind was he?" "he was dressed, sire, like a beggar." "hear, chancellor! hear, general! to what a pitch of insolence these wretches are coming!" said the king hotly. "it is growing past bearing. we have not acted a moment too soon." "not a moment," said the general. "not a moment, i quite agree," said the chancellor. "if you could recognise the man," pursued the king. "i would have him arrested at once." "it is possible, sire, that i might," said the officer, as rigid as ever. "he was a beggar with a limp, deformed shoulders, and a peculiarly educated voice for one of his class. and, further, i think i can tell your majesty where to inquire for him." "what do you mean, sir?" said the king. "proceed as shortly as possible." "he took refuge in the high chancellor's garden," said the officer. "are you sure of this?" asked the king, growing suddenly calm. "i took particular pains not to be mistaken, sire," answered the gendarme, "because the fellow had the impudence to say he was the chancellor himself." "what is the meaning of this?" said the king, turning on the chancellor. "a lie to cover a lamentable piece of incompetency, i should say," said turbo coolly. "that, sire, is a very natural solution for his excellency to offer," said the general, coming with subdued excitement to the aid of his subordinate; "but it hardly explains the fact that this note, directed in mlle de tricotrin's hand to his excellency, was found upon this unfortunate girl." with all his self-control turbo could not suppress an uneasy movement as the general produced the little note and handed it to the king. in the excitement of having the girl in his power he had quite forgotten this part of the arrangement, and so had omitted to possess himself of the evidence of mlle de tricotrin's treachery. "it appears to be meant for you, chancellor," said the king quietly, passing on the note to him. "you see?" turbo took it and read it through with deliberation. "it was intended for me, sire," he said imperturbably. "then the beggar who was guilty of this crime," said the king, with affected calm, "is no other than the high chancellor of oneiria." "your majesty's conjecture is perfectly correct," replied turbo, who saw that all hope of concealment was now at an end. "before heaven, this is too much!" exclaimed kophetua, still in a well-controlled voice, but growing white with anger. "general dolabella, you will arrest his excellency." the general came forward with an uneasy air to receive the chancellor's sword. turbo drew it quietly from its sheath, and presented it with elaborate politeness. "shall i take his excellency's parole?" asked the general, "or will your majesty?" "neither, sir," answered the king. "you will call a guard, and remove him to the tower immediately." the general, after looking at the king for a moment in blank amazement, bowed, and despatched the officer for some files of the palace watch. a distressing silence followed his departure, which turbo seemed to enjoy immensely, till at last he broke it himself. "i do not wish," said he, with affected humility, "to complain of your majesty's vigour. in my old pupil i can only warmly admire it. but as your majesty has adopted this spirited course, i would beg the privilege of the meanest prisoner, and demand on what charge i am arrested." "you may inform the prisoner," said the king, addressing dolabella, "that he is arrested on confession of murder and abduction." "your majesty is extremely kind," answered turbo, "and it is only right that i should show my sense of your clemency by letting you know that you are acting in error both of law and fact." "i must beg," said kophetua, "that all further communication between us shall be made through the proper channel." "as your majesty pleases," replied the chancellor. "but as your experience in these matters is not extensive, i thought i could save your majesty from an undignified position, and from the publication of matters which you would prefer to have concealed. if you would read this note, sire, you would see at once what i mean." kophetua was, in spite of himself, impressed by the calmness of the chancellor, and, moreover, was sensible of considerable curiosity to see what mlle de tricotrin could have written to him. so he took the note, and read it with a shock that he was not fully sensible of till some time after. "you see, sire," said the chancellor, "this girl had been lawfully assigned to me in writing. your majesty is too well aware of the paternal nature of the laws regulating domestic service in this country to be ignorant that i was within my rights in using reasonable violence to compel a servant so assigned to assume her duties. the interference of the gendarmerie was, therefore, quite illegal, and the homicide which i unfortunately committed a justifiable act of self-defence." poor kophetua! he saw in a moment how precipitate he had been. he saw that the chancellor was perfectly right. technically no offence whatever had been committed, and even had there been one, he confessed it would have been impossible to charge the chancellor with it. for if he were to put turbo on his trial, the whole circumstances of his own connection with penelophon must inevitably come to light. and what was worse, mlle de tricotrin's conduct could not be concealed. abominable as it was in kophetua's eyes, still his perhaps fantastic sense of chivalry forbade him to expose her. after all, it was only for him another example of what must be expected from the levity and weakness of women; it was a thing to shield, and not to resent. as the bitter truth flashed through his mind, and he recognised the full meaning of the infamous plot, a sense of despair possessed him--a sense of incompetency, of powerlessness, of utter disappointment, which told him his struggle was hopeless, that it was wisdom to yield. "general dolabella," he said at last, after some moments of silence, "this document reveals to me circumstances which render it necessary to proceed in this matter with extreme caution." "yes, sire?" replied the general, in a tone of innocent inquiry, as if he were quite unaware of the contents of the compromising document. "they are circumstances," continued the king, "opening up a prospect the painfulness of which can only be increased by any precipitate action." "what steps then," asked the general, "would your majesty desire me to take?" "i desire you to take none," answered kophetua. "i desire you to retrace those you have already taken." this the king said with the air of having given his instructions; and the commander-in-chief, after a moment's hesitation, as though not quite sure of his sovereign's meaning, advanced to turbo, and with a profound bow handed him back his sword; but the chancellor stood with his hands behind him, without making the slightest motion of accepting the proffered weapon. "his majesty," he said, with a malicious look at kophetua, "is making another mistake. it is not such a little matter for a king to arrest his chief minister. so bold a stride is not so easily retraced. there is danger even for a monarch in playing with edged tools. i, the high chancellor of oneiria, have suffered the disgrace of a public arrest. by this time our zealous gendarme may have spread the news all over the palace. his majesty must see that the affront i have suffered is not to be expiated by an offhand return of my sword, and i refuse to accept it." the poor general stood holding out the slender weapon, and feeling very foolish, which indeed was no more than he looked. it was a situation of extreme sweetness to turbo, and the king tried hastily to end it. "chancellor," said he peremptorily, "take your sword. it is i, the king, who command you." "with great submission to your majesty," answered turbo, without moving, "you have no power to command this." "why, what folly is this?" cried the king. "it is i who took away your liberty, and it is i who have power to give it back." "your majesty will pardon me," said turbo. "you had power to arrest me. you have exercised that power, and there your prerogative ends. i am now in the bosom of the law, which is above your majesty, nor can you take me from it without its consent or mine. if i have contravened any term of the social contract, by my arrest you have invoked the jurisdiction by which alone such breaches may be considered. we are king and subject no longer. we are parties to a suit. the tribunal of eternal justice stands between us, and to that i appeal." "general dolabella!" exclaimed the king abruptly, "have the kindness to leave us for a few minutes." the general retired, and master and pupil were left confronting each other, like gladiators seeking for a favourable moment to close. "what do you mean by all this?" asked the king, in a low, calm voice. "just now you wished to save us all from having this miserable business brought to light." "and i am still willing to do so," answered turbo. "then why refuse to receive your sword?" asked kophetua. "why all this nonsense about demanding a trial?" "sire," said the chancellor, "upon this affair we have thrown off all disguise. i will continue, then, to be frank. you want this beggar-maid, so do i. i do not seek to deny it. i am in a position to demand terms of you, and i ask for her." "do i understand you to say," said the king, "that it is only on the surrender of this unhappy girl that you will forego your right to an inquiry." "your majesty takes my meaning accurately," answered turbo. kophetua did not answer. the two paths opened before him, and he knew not which to take. upon neither could he go without irreparable injury to a woman. by the one he must condemn penelophon to the hateful lot from which he had rescued her; by the other he must expose the iniquitous conduct of mlle de tricotrin, to say nothing of the quixotic part he himself had played in the drama, which every one would misunderstand, and of which he felt heartily ashamed. still, that was but a little thing. had he had himself alone to consider, he would not have hesitated, painful as the ridicule would have been which the exposure of his boyish knight-errantry must have entailed. it was for mlle de tricotrin that he felt. he held the secret of her shameless perfidy, and his whole nature revolted from making it known. it was well enough to chatter lightly of women's worthlessness, but when it came to laying bare before the world the infamy of a tender, gentle thing like this, one whom he had deemed his friend, it seemed an action so unmanly, so unchivalrous, so cowardly, that he could not bring himself to do it. she deserved it all, and more; he knew that well enough. nothing could have been more detestable in his eyes than what she had done. yet who would befriend her or pity her if he gave her up. the more he thought of her crime the greater it seemed; but that only brought a stronger reason for shielding her from its consequences, and he resolved to shield her. but then the alternative--to betray the very incarnation of his ideal of womanhood to what for her was worse than hell itself; to shake off the delicate despairing suppliant who had clung to him so trustingly. no, that was impossible too. he was at his wits' end, and turbo knew it well as he watched his sovereign's silence with his snarling smile. "chancellor," said kophetua at last, "i will consider your terms. meanwhile, i would request you to receive your sword, and confine yourself to your house till i come to a determination." "your majesty must pardon me," replied turbo, "if i insist on my rights, unless you pass your word to me at this moment to accept my condition." kophetua's face changed to an expression which turbo had never seen there. there was within his pupil a smouldering fire. the soft gales which had hitherto stirred his soul had never fanned it into a blaze. it was the sacred fire which had been kindled in the hour of his birth; it was the immortal spark which had been handed on from descendant to descendant, down from the very flame that had burned in the heart of the old knight. as kophetua sank deeper and deeper in desperation, and struggled to find an escape, he looked ever into the shadow beneath the ancient morion. the grim face grew very distinct there, and as turbo spoke his last word it seemed to look down at the king with an expression where sorrow struggled with contempt, and kophetua started up, desperate indeed, with the fire of his fathers' soul glittering in his eyes. "by the splendour of god!" he cried, springing from his seat with the oath that had been the founder's favourite, "you shall not use me so! you shall have neither terms nor trial, except that which is the birthright of every man!" "does your majesty threaten me?" said turbo, trying to keep up the insolent tone he had adopted, though in truth feeling he was faced by a force that was beyond his control. "that is what i do!" cried the king, drawing the glittering rapier on which his hand was laid. "you have outraged the woman i have sworn to protect, and, by the soul of the knight! here and now we will see whose she shall be. take your sword, you double cur and coward! take it, or receive my point where you stand!" with that he fell _en garde_, with his blade straight at the chancellors throat. turbo saw the time for words was gone by. they had often fenced together, and he knew, in spite of his lameness, he was the better man. yet so fiercely did the king's eye fix his, that it was with no sense of ease that he took up his sword from the table at his side, where dolabella had laid it. with such fury did kophetua attack when they were once engaged that turbo had to give ground fast. already he was forced against a table, and was barely defending himself with his utmost skill, when the door burst open, and dolabella, alarmed by the quick clink of steel, rushed in, followed by the gendarme and two files of the palace watch. kophetua retreated immediately, and dropped his point. "you come most inopportunely," said the king angrily. "nay, your majesty," said the general. "permit me to say most opportunely." "yes, most opportunely, with your majesty's pardon," echoed the officer, to whom dolabella had confided the king's difficulty about the chancellor's arrest. "i can take his excellency red-handed, and no trial will be necessary now." it was true. the officer of gendarmes knew his work well, and valued at its true worth his favourite and most dreaded weapon--red-handed justice. he was quick enough to see that here was a solution of the difficulty which his commander had confided to him. for a moment the king hesitated before the temptation, but it was a meanness of which he was incapable. "no, general," he said, as he sheathed his sword; "the chancellor will retire to his house, and doubtless give us his word to remain there till we are resolved how to deal with his case. i fancy," he continued, with a defiant look at turbo, "that we have found a method of settling our differences amicably." the chancellor recognised that he had aroused a spirit in the king which it would be well to let cool. there came vividly before him the ominous scene when the long rapier had fallen into his pupil's hands, and the kind of awe he had experienced then was upon him now. so he too sheathed his sword, and, having passed his word as the king suggested, left the room. "has your majesty any further orders for me," said the officer, saluting. "what is your name?" asked the king. "pertinax," answered the officer. "captain pertinax, at your majesty's service." "then, captain pertinax," answered the king, "i commend your conduct, and shall not forget it. you may retire." "and what, sire," he asked diffidently, "shall i do with the girl?" "i confide her to your custody," replied kophetua, after a little hesitation, during which he eyed the gendarme with careful scrutiny. "you will keep her where she is, with liberty of the park, till further orders." chapter xviii. the queen's move. "her arms across her breast she laid; she was more fair than words can say: bare-footed came the beggar-maid." it was impossible that the queen-mother's anxiety should not have revealed to her the coldness which had sprung up between her son and mlle de tricotrin. she had been at the kora rout, and her intense love for kophetua, and her absorbing desire to see him united to her new favourite, had made her eyes sharper than those of the rest of the world, interested as they were. hitherto her hopes had been rising daily. she was rejoicing not only at the skilful manner in which the marquis was winning over all parties to their common cause, but also at the warm relations which seemed to be growing between kophetua and the beautiful frenchwoman. it was quite clear to her that he was taking an interest in mlle de tricotrin which he had never shown for a woman before. at last she felt her long-deferred hopes were about to be realised, when suddenly she was aware that the happy love-progress was arrested. some discord had jarred in upon the growing harmony. it rang in her listening ears rudely enough, but whence it was she could not tell. it was this that made her look so sad and anxious, as she took her usual drive in the cool of the following afternoon. of late mlle de tricotrin, who had grown to be like a daughter to the lonely queen, had always accompanied her on these drives. this time, however, she had sent an excuse that she was not well. indeed, she felt that after her crime she could not play her part before the keen eyes of her patroness without breaking down. so margaret was alone, for she would have no one to replace her héloise. she wished besides to think over quietly by herself what could be the cause of the coldness which mlle de tricotrin's message only confirmed. it was the queen's custom during these drives to visit from time to time the public hospitals of the villages around the capital. for in this well-ordered kingdom every village possessed its hospital, maintained at the public expense, and there was not one in which the benign and stately presence of margaret was not familiar and welcome. with the affection of the people she strove to fill the aching void, where should have nestled the love and confidence which her only son denied her; and if her visits of mercy did not bring her a full measure of consolation, they at least won her a wide popularity, which shed an intermittent glow of happiness into her clouded life. it was only natural that she should try to-day the specific her womanly heroism had taught her. she drove to a village which lay before the furthest gate of the royal park. the people were all assembled on the green, and she could see they were eagerly watching a rude stage which some wandering players had set up under the spreading shelter of an ancient acacia. they gave her a ringing shout of greeting as she passed by, oblivious of the sorrows of the highly rouged lady who raved before them. nor would they give the stage another glance till the queen's stately coach had rolled by out of sight. an hour or so was spent in reading to and comforting the few sick that the hospital contained, and then the queen returned. the play was done, and the dispersing people so blocked the road that the chariot had to pull up. a man in a fantastic dress took advantage of the delay to approach the queen and ask her a boon with that elaboration of ceremony by which players consider they imitate the manners of the great. it was a little thing that he wanted, though his air was lofty enough to have prefaced a demand for half of the kingdom. as the privileges of the chartered beggars in oneiria were wide, so were the laws against unlicenced vagrancy excessively severe. the status of strolling players was at the best doubtful, and in the present case the mayor of the village had refused them permission to camp on the green, upon the ground that such a proceeding was flat vagrancy. not a house or even a barn was to be had, and so the motley player was begging leave to pass the night within the gates of the park--a request which margaret granted graciously enough. to the sound of another cheer from the villagers the park gates closed behind the queen, and she went on her way towards the palace. it was a lovely evening, and before she had gone far she was tempted to leave the chariot to go round a wide sweep of the road, while she herself walked across under the great acacias to meet it again. her trouble was as heavy on her heart as ever now her samaritan visit was over; and, alone with the rugged trunks and the spreading boughs and peeping flowers, she felt she could think it out more easily, and perhaps light upon the cause that made the sweet bells jangle out of tune. her way soon led her along a gully, where a little brook hurried gently down with happy chatter to find its way to its father drâa. here some long-dead king had obliterated all trace of the rank vegetation that had stolen up from the tropical regions to the southward, and in its place had fostered the nobler forms which through the long ages have gathered about the blue waters of the mediterranean sea. on the favoured slopes of the atlas, where the mighty breath of the atlantic still has power to cherish and make strong, he found them, and here they now rejoiced together in the vigour of lusty age. giant oaks stretched out their limbs across the moist rocks to greet their rough-coated cousins the cork-trees on the other side. and almost in their arms grew the wild olives in wanton freedom, as though they mocked the modest silver poplars which quivered hard by. they, shy prudes, stood aloof delicately, and trembled always, as though they never ceased to fear the rough embrace of the wanton olive's friends. and here and there, where the tinkling stream idled through a wider channel, and the banks were marshy beds of vivid green, an oleander stood; and, as its ruddy flowers began to peep out to see the ripening year, it seemed to blush for the immodest hypocrite who, with her sober hue, had cheated the old greeks to call her chaste. the murmuring brook splashed up upon the rocky path, and the leaves bent down and rustled in the evening breeze, as though they would whisper to the passing queen the secret she could not divine. but, plunged in deep and miserable thought, she kept on her way unheeding, till all at once she was aware of a nymph-like figure that sat upon a rock on the further side of the brook, and dipped her white feet in it. upon her long dark tresses was a crown of flowers, and in her lap lay others, which ever and again she tossed upon the stream, and watched in idle reverie racing, embracing, and dividing, as they sported with the laughing eddies. the queen could not help admiring the picture in spite of her surprise at the intrusion. she drew nearer, and then, to her complete astonishment, saw that the flower-crowned nymph was none other than the pretty maid of mlle de tricotrin. she had always liked the girl for her gentleness and modesty, no less than for her evident devotion to her mistress. still her presence in the park alone was a liberty that could not be passed over. margaret called her gently by her name. penelophon rose hastily when she saw who spoke, and cast a whole lapful of flowers into the stream as she made her humble reverence. the water seemed to seize the blossoms greedily, and hurried away with its prize, as though the maid had lost all that could tempt it to linger. "my girl," said the queen, with severity, though not unkindly, "why are you here? do you not know that no one is allowed in the park without leave?" "yes, madam," answered penelophon, with quiet confidence, "but trecenito gave me leave." "who do you say, girl?" cried the queen, drawing herself up, and speaking with great asperity. "i mean his majesty gave me leave," answered penelophon, looking down and blushing faintly in her confusion. "but how did you come here?" asked the queen, trying to conceal the interest which a sudden suspicion gave her. "from the old hunting-lodge, madam," answered penelophon, "where captain pertinax and the gendarmes are." "but what were you doing there?" said the queen. "trecen---- i mean his majesty," said penelophon, looking down again, "told captain pertinax he was to keep me there till his majesty was resolved where i was to go." "where you were to go, child?" echoed the queen, assuming her kindest tone, for she felt she had found a clue to the mystery, and did not want to frighten the girl. "but why are you not to be with mlle de tricotrin? how did you come to leave her?" "do you not know, madam?" said penelophon, with a look of pain in her trusting eyes. "did my good mistress not tell you?" "no, child; what was it?" "then i will come and tell you. i will come and whisper in your ear; i dare not speak it loud. i hardly dare to think of it, lest the thing should come again." she spoke in a low, frightened voice, and then stepped in trembling agitation across the brook, and came to the queen's side. "the thing came----" she began, beneath her breath. "what thing, my girl?" asked the queen, with increasing excitement. "that thing that limps and glares, and is wrapped in a cloak," answered penelophon, in a hurried whisper, while she looked anxiously about her. "the thing that captain pertinax says is called turbo, the chancellor. well, it came and dragged me away from mlle de tricotrin in the dark night; but trecenito sent the gendarmes and took me away from it, and they brought me here, where its eyes cannot look at me." the queen made no reply. it was all she could do to conceal the sudden elation that possessed her, for now she was sure that accidentally she had stumbled on what she sought. penelophon's familiar way of speaking of the king had aroused suspicions which her story served only to confirm. the case was perfectly clear. this innocent girl was the means that turbo was using to thwart her plans for kophetua's happiness. the chancellor had obviously discovered that the fascination which mlle de tricotrin was exercising over his pupil was something which he could not meet with his ordinary weapons. the beauty and sweetness of her héloise had at last touched the king's stony heart, and love was alive in him. turbo was man of the world enough to know that this was a state of mind which was not to be reasoned with, and he must have thought that the only means by which he could prevent the attachment getting past undoing was to place another woman in the way. in the sudden reaction of spirits brought about by the unexpected success of her quest, the queen could hardly help smiling at the chancellor's astuteness. it was certainly a clever move. she knew her son's nature well enough to understand how this dreamy child of the people was just the most dangerous rival mlle de tricotrin could have. it was just the idyllic passion to commend itself to a nature which, though outwardly cynical, was, as she well knew, at bottom imaginative, poetical, and even quixotic. it was clear then to the queen that turbo had stolen the girl from mlle de tricotrin, in consequence, probably, of the king having noticed her. he had arranged for her this romantic retreat, where kophetua could visit his rosamund with the added spice of secrecy on pretence of inspecting the gendarmes. the plot was perfect, and margaret's elation at her fancied discovery was in proportion to its perfection. for not only had she unravelled the whole mystery which had so troubled her, but she found herself in a position to foil the chancellor's last attempt. the fear which, by her view of the situation, turbo seemed to have of mlle de tricotrin's influence entirely coincided with her own idea that kophetua was on the brink of an irresistible passion for the frenchwoman. all, then, that was necessary was to remove turbo's counter-attraction, and the game was won. her motherly eagerness showed her the means by which this might be accomplished, and taught her to play her part with the skill and delicacy which was essential to success. "my dear," said the queen at length, softly stroking penelophon's hair, "i am very sorry for you. i am very glad i found you here." "thank you, madam," answered penelophon. "it is not hard to see why my mistress loves you so. but why are you glad?" "because, my child," said the queen, "you are not safe here any more than you were with your mistress." "not safe?" cried penelophon, her big eyes dilating with fear. "that thing knows where you are," answered the queen, in a mysterious voice, "though the king thinks you are safe. he does not know, but to-night it will come and look at you." "no! no!" cried the poor girl, covering her face interior. "but will it take hold of me too?" "i cannot tell," replied the queen-mother doubtfully. "perhaps the gendarmes will prevent it; but it is a cunning thing." "o madam!" exclaimed penelophon, casting herself at margaret's feet, "what shall i do? i could not bear it again. will you not take me away where it cannot come? for the love of trecenito take me away!" "well, child, for the love of trecenito i will take you away," said the queen, covering her deceit with words that were true. "i will bring you to some good friends of mine hard by, and they shall take you far away where the thing can never find you,--far away to the mountains, where the king's hunting-tower stands, and i will tell him, and none but him, whither you have gone." "bless your sweet majesty! bless you!" cried penelophon, fervently kissing the hand that soothed her. "but now let us go quickly before the gendarmes see." "follow me, then, child," said the queen, and hastily retraced her steps up the gully to where she knew she would find the players; and as they passed, the oleanders blushed deeply to see what wrong a mother's love could do, and the white poplars trembled with dread. overhead the turkey oaks and the rough cork-trees shot out their muscular arms stiffly, as though they would have stopped the cruel deed; but the wild olives nestled close, and whispered wantonly it was no harm. the players were already there with their carts when the two women came to the park gate. a few words and a little purse soon persuaded margaret's motley friend to take the matter in hand. all the queen required was that he should start away betimes in the morning with his company, and carry the beggar-maid to some remote part of the kingdom, and she promised the man a handsome present if the girl were not found for a year. then she gave her hand to penelophon, who kissed it again with devotion. margaret, in a voice that all could hear, charged the players to treat her kindly, and so took her leave, and hurried to meet her carriage at the point agreed. the queen's delight at the way she had outwitted her cunning adversary only increased as she thought over it, and by the time she reached the palace she felt compelled to share her joy with some one. so she easily persuaded herself that m. de tricotrin ought at once to be informed of the plot against his daughter, and how, in consequence of her clever move, it was now, instead of a cause of anxiety, a thing to rejoice over, as evidence of how nearly the king had come to yielding to héloise's charms. she sent to him at once to request the favour of an interview, and m. de tricotrin appeared without delay. margaret told him the whole story with great animation, and was perhaps a little surprised at his reception of her news. she had certainly looked for a little more enthusiasm in his congratulations, but was too happy and too satisfied with herself to take much notice of his manner. as for the marquis, the instincts of an old diplomatist prevented him explaining the queen's mistake. it was true that her story took his breath away at first; but it was a second nature with him, when he found any one labouring under an error, not to undeceive until he was sure that there was nothing to be made out of the situation as it stood. so after his first surprise he listened with interest, gravely thanked the queen for her energy in his daughter's behalf, and ceremoniously took his leave, with the unpleasant conviction that things had taken a very awkward turn. what had happened he could hardly tell. that the queen's view of the affair was wrong he had little doubt. a much more natural explanation suggested itself to him. somehow or other kophetua had got wind of the intended abduction, and had ordered the gendarmes to be on the alert to prevent it. how the secret had leaked out of course he could not be sure; but, in all probability, his own daughter, prompted by her silly infatuation for the girl, had given the king a hint. whether this were so or not, he was sure that turbo would come to the same conclusion, and feel that the tricotrin side of the bargain had not been loyally carried out. the only thing to be done was to go to the chancellor at once, find out what had actually happened, and, as a proof of sincerity, inform him what had become of the girl. this could certainly do no harm. for, even supposing the queen were right, and turbo's proposition had only been part of a deep-laid scheme to draw off the king from his daughter, it would, at any rate, be better to let the wily chancellor know that his game was seen through. so to the chancellor m. de tricotrin went. chapter xix. conspirators. "the gods preserve your majesty." by the force of circumstances, and captain pertinax's ingenious idea of red-handed justice, the chancellor was sitting interned in his own official residence. for a man like turbo to fail is very hard. failure was a thing of which he had little experience. yet now he was obliged to confess that his elaborate manoeuvre had not succeeded. true, it had been so far successful as to irrevocably ruin mlle de tricotrin's chances of the throne. on that side the king was firmly blockaded in his bachelordom. but the rest of the operation was a disaster. it was certainly nothing but a piece of pure ill-luck that had upset the strategist's calculations; but turbo held that a man should be master of his fate, and leave no room for fortune to interfere either one way or the other. in the present case fortune might easily have been held at a distance. he ought to have remembered the gendarmes, and fortune would not have deprived him of half the battle. indeed, it was more than half that had been lost. not only had he failed to secure penelophon for himself, but he had allowed her to come into the king's possession. so far from finally shutting off his sovereign from matrimony, he had actually hastened his approach to it. his idea that kophetua intended to marry the beggar-maid, in order to secure the continuance of his reign, became more pronounced than ever. it was an eventuality which he had long foreseen. he had taken unsparing pains to prevent it. his whole powers, as a man and a politician, had been directed to keeping penelophon away from kophetua, and the only result had been to place the girl in his very arms. something, he felt, must be done, or his ruin was complete. after what had occurred his favour in the king's eyes was gone for ever. he was a disgraced minister, whom nothing but a revolution could set on high again. could he only stay the king's marriage a few months more, the revolution would come by peaceful process of law, otherwise his fall was complete, or a more violent course must be taken. into the midst of the chancellor's perplexity broke m. de tricotrin. by this time the marquis had ascertained approximately what had occurred in the morning. the news of the palace was that general dolabella and an officer of gendarmes had presented a report to the king, which had led to a scene between his majesty and the chancellor, resulting in the latter being confined to his residence in deep disgrace. this violent splash in the quiet waters of oneirian politics was generally said, by well-informed persons of unimpeachable authority, to be due to a difference of opinion as to the course to be taken with the beggars, but m. de tricotrin knew better. from what the queen-mother had told him, and the facts within his own knowledge, he had now no doubt that the king had got wind of their little plot, and had ordered a party of gendarmes to frustrate it as quietly as possible, and he more than ever felt that an interview with the chancellor was necessary to establish his own fidelity to the infamous bargain, and to concert measures for the future. "i thought your excellency would have something to say to me after this disaster," said the marquis, as soon as the two old schemers were alone. "yes?" said turbo warily. "you have an accusation to make, no doubt," said the marquis. "none in the world," answered turbo; "why should i?" "then whom do you blame for the unfortunate intervention of the gendarmes?" "i blame no one. they were there at my suggestion." "upon my word, chancellor," said the marquis, astounded at turbo's cool admission. "i must congratulate you upon the _sang-froid_ with which you speak of your infamies." "i do not understand you, marquis," answered turbo. "the word is plain enough. what you confess is an infamy. it is an infamy to enter into an arrangement to further my daughter's marriage, and deliberately to frustrate it by making an exposure of us to his majesty, and providing him with a consolation. it is clever; but, i repeat, it is an infamy." "my dear marquis," cried turbo, almost with enthusiasm, "i see we shall work together admirably. your suspicions do you infinite credit. they display in you possibilities of unscrupulous intrigue such as i myself have not yet attained. i have still to reach the point at which i could even suspect a man of the admirable insensibility of which you are so flattering as to accuse me. i bow to you as a master. to conceive such ingenious treachery belongs only to a master." "then you withdraw the confession you just made." "i wish that i could, marquis," said turbo. "for it was a confession of stupidity;" and with that the chancellor explained to m. de tricotrin how the presence of the gendarmes was a mere accident, for which no one was to blame but himself. "well," said m. de tricotrin, when turbo had done, "you must permit me to apologise for the unwarranted accusation i made." "not at all," answered turbo. "it was a compliment i value highly." "then at least let me offer you my commiseration," said de tricotrin, "upon the loss of all you hoped to gain. but i trust it is only temporary. i am happy to announce to you that i have discovered the retreat of your little friend, and, no doubt, can put you in the way of recovering her, when it may be done with safety;" and m. de tricotrin explained in detail to the chancellor the queen-mother's move. "i am delighted," concluded the marquis, "to be able to announce to you so excellent a piece of fortune." "i regret, marquis," answered turbo, "that i cannot share your delight." "but surely," replied the frenchman, "it is an extraordinary piece of good fortune." "i do not deny it," said turbo; "but i am accustomed to look with suspicion on any position, however attractive, which is founded on fortune. nothing is stable without a substructure of sagacious purpose. for a position to be in any way modified by fortune is for me merely evidence of defective calculation. in the present case the danger is obvious." "why so?" asked the marquis. "you see," pursued turbo, "another piece of fortune may at any moment put the king in possession of the information we enjoy. a pursuit and recapture will ensue, and our quixote will have fattened his folly with another ration of romance. your unhappy daughter's supplanter will then be on the steps of the throne." "then what do you propose?" said de tricotrin. "to recapture the girl yourself, i presume?" "precisely," answered turbo. "the thing is easily done. i will send officers to watch the players. they will be instructed to take advantage of any disorderly conduct to arrest the whole company as vagabonds, and convey them to the capital. disorder amongst such people is easily fomented. i apprehend no difficulty or even delay." "but how can you arrange this delicate mission," objected the marquis, "while you are under arrest?" "to-morrow," said turbo, "i propose to submit unconditionally to the king's terms, and i shall be free. it will be unpleasant, but under the new aspect of affairs there is no other course open. i must absolutely be at liberty to act at the present crisis." the chancellor's evident anxiety to get the beggar-maid back to the capital began once more to arouse m. de tricotrin's suspicion. his doubts as to the loyalty of his ally began to recur to him. his own idea was that at present penelophon was much better where she was. he objected to the chancellor's plan, but it was not his habit to insist on real objections. there was a crudeness about honesty which jarred on the old diplomatist's sense of refinement. he loved always to mask his position with minor obstructions. "you seem, chancellor," he began, "to over-estimate the danger we are to apprehend from this beggar. it is impossible to conceive that the king seriously means to marry her." "i quite agree with you, marquis," answered turbo. "he had no such intention. till this morning the danger was shadowy. but now it is different. in his present state of mind he is capable of any indiscretion. i cannot exaggerate to you the intensity of the shock which he received at the discovery of your daughter's implication in our disgrace." "what!" cried the marquis, surprised into an unwonted show of feeling. "the discovery of my daughter's complicity? what do you mean?" "did you not know?" said turbo, with an affectation of tender concern. "really this is most painful. i imagined you knew all, and envied you your calmness. you see it was that unlucky note. the girl did not deliver it, and so it came into the king's hands through the police." "oh, it is that which has alarmed you," said the marquis, in a tone of great relief. "i am happy, then, to reassure you. believe me, there was nothing compromising in that. i was careful that the letter should be but a blank sheet of paper." "then what is the meaning of this?" said turbo, handing mlle de tricotrin's note to her father. m. de tricotrin read it through. then he set his teeth, and hissed out between them, "sink the little fool!" and many other like exclamations that were only fit for turbo's ears. as soon as the ebullition which turbo's announcement produced in the marquis had a little subsided, and while his spirits were still hot, the chancellor proceeded to throw in, in the guise of consolation, the ingredients which he considered necessary to convert the frenchman's state of mind into a mixture that would minister to his own disease. "and, after all, marquis," said turbo, at last, "perhaps you have lost nothing. i begin to think you had gained nothing, and had nothing to lose. i am inclined to believe the king is a deeper politician than we thought. some of us are old hands, but i believe he has been laughing at us all along. he amused us with your daughter, and penelophon, and this herculean notion of his of cleansing his augean stables. but my experience of this morning has opened my eyes. he is a man, and not the decrepit boy i took him for. the spirit of his race is alive in him. it has burst into sudden vigour. he begins to itch for power like his fathers, and he means to grip it in spite of the law. he means to have it, and throw us all over,--you and me and mlle héloise, who have sinned in his eyes beyond redemption. that is why his calmness and obstinacy are so unassailable. that is what this concentration of the gendarmerie means. i tell you, marquis, as sure as there is an earth beneath, our little kophetua contemplates a _coup d'état_." "but this is astounding!" cried the revolutionary statesman, with the air of one who smells the battle afar off. "it _is_ astounding, marquis," replied turbo, "and we must not rely entirely on the correctness of our view. it is possible he may still be halting between the revolutionary and constitutional course. he may, even at the last moment, retreat by abdication. meanwhile, we must prepare for every eventuality. our first step will be for you as satisfactory as it is obvious. we must at once bring to bear the whole pressure of the political combination which you have so cleverly framed, in order to drive the king into a marriage with your daughter." "but is there the slightest chance of success?" said the marquis. "i think so," answered turbo, who knew perfectly well the attempt was hopeless, and therefore safe as far as he was concerned. "the party you have gathered at your back is stronger than anything he has met with before. its influence is incalculable." "but if we fail!" "it will at any rate force his hand. we shall know what to do next. meanwhile, i should value your opinion and assistance in the elaboration of various methods of proceeding upon which i am engaged in view of the possible crisis. a marriage with the beggar, or an attempt at a _coup d'état_, must be met----" "with revolution," broke in the delighted frenchman, with impressive solemnity of voice and manner. "precisely,--with revolution," answered the chancellor. "it remains but to settle the details to our mutual satisfaction, and we cannot begin too soon. with your experience of these matters, my dear marquis, our success is assured." "you flatter me," answered m. de tricotrin. "permit me to say it is for such a coadjutor as you that my experience has waited. we are necessary to each other, you and i. let us recognise the fact, and nothing is impossible." the two old hands set to their work. all night long they sat, drawing up memoranda, consulting official lists, marking the names of those whom they intended to employ, and devising bribes for the doubtful. like sober men of business they devoured the work, and sketched out with official brevity and distinctness the plan of operation. what these designs were it is premature to inquire now. before long they were made patent to every one. suffice it for the time that when the grey light of morning broke, m. de tricotrin went quietly forth from turbo's garden, wearing on his face an expression which he felt would not have disgraced cassius as he left the orchard of brutus. several similar meetings followed in quick succession, and began to make themselves felt. turbo made his peace with the king, and was continued in office in order that mlle de tricotrin's sin might not be blazoned to the world. the whole affair, in fact, was hushed up, and the chancellor left free to work his tools. as the day for the meeting of parliament drew near, kophetua began to be aware that every one was taking an unaccountable interest in his marriage. petitions came up from the country. gentlemen and ladies of both parties, whether kallist or agathist, seemed to want to talk of nothing else. every subject he started in the council seemed to transform itself into the same haunting shape. parliament met, and general dolabella, amidst indescribable excitement, was elected speaker according to the original arrangement on which m. de tricotrin's coalition was founded. then the pressure redoubled. the kallikagathists joined with quiet dignity the general movement, and were heard to say, with an air of noble patronage, that it was at last a great fact. in tones of reserved intensity, so characteristic of the inflexible bigotry of those who believe they are nothing if not open-minded, the kallikagathist party assured themselves that further resistance from the king was impossible. the party of order, the party of moderation, the party of intelligence, had triumphed at last. at length, by the unostentatious use of reason and common-sense, they had drawn the extremists together, and a coalition was standing before the king demanding his marriage with the lady who embodied the principles of everybody and everything. it was no longer the voice of party that spoke. it was the harmonious flood in which the voice of party was drowned. it was the holy voice of compromise. at last things came to a crisis. an address was moved urging the king to marry the woman of the people's choice. a lengthened debate took place, but only upon its wording. the kallist amendments, dictated by turbo, were almost indecent in their plain speaking. a coaxing and apologetic obscurity was the tone of those which the queen-mother approved for the agathists. eventually the spirit of compromise, which presided over the assembly in the person of its new speaker, triumphed over every difficulty, and the address was passed in a form which was a masterpiece of inconsistency. kallist violence and agathist weakness were there in glaring contrast. the insolence of the one was only enhanced by its proximity to the servility of the other. nothing could have been better calculated to offend the king or impress him with a sense of the perplexity of his position and the malicious origin of the cross-bred coalition which confronted him. at no time was kophetua a man to bear pressure patiently if he was conscious of it, and his present state of mind was one of universal defiance. the shock which mlle de tricotrin's heartless perfidy had produced upon him had been at least as acute as turbo imagined. till he had quarrelled with her at count kora's rout he hardly knew how much she had been to him. till then he had not recognised how he craved for a woman to love, and how nearly she was fitted to satisfy his hunger. he began to see how dull his life would be again without her. the one imploring look she had given him as she passed beneath his window had turned his contempt into pity. the beauty, the tenderness, the self-abasing resignation of that lovely vision had done its work, and at last a great resistless love had filled every chamber of his soul. then fell, sudden as the hand of death, the crushing revelation of her guilt. it was as though he had gathered the luscious fruit of the tree of life and found it ashes between his teeth. the first shock past, he turned, as men will in such a case, to find comfort in the light of another's eyes. he turned to penelophon, where he saw the very antithesis of her in whom he was deceived. the passion that was aroused in him must find a resting-place. so violently did his noble nature revolt from its fallen idol that it was only in the opposite extreme of womanhood it felt it could be at peace. prepared to risk all, he was going forth to seek her when they told him she was gone. at first none could say whither, but soon there were some who whispered she had run away to the strolling players, and were careful that the whisper should reach kophetua's ears. such folk had an evil reputation enough in oneiria, and in his despair the heart-broken king cried out that she was as bad as the rest. there was now none good; no, not one. there was nothing in life but loneliness, and no weapon to battle with it but defiance. he laughed to himself to think how wasted were the efforts he felt pressing about him, how utterly they mistook him to think he would bend to force. he laughed till he wearied of the sport, and the last stroke angered him. the address he saw as a ridiculous insult, and was resolved to have no more. once or twice before, when he had been over-worried on the marriage question, he had made an end by a simple manoeuvre, and he was determined to repeat it now. so when general dolabella attended with a deputation to receive the king's answer to the address of his faithful parliament, there was no one to receive him but the chancellor. turbo briefly announced that the king had left that morning for his hunting-tower in the mountains, and handed mr. speaker an order for the prorogation of the house. chapter xx. players. "he went out a-riding one fine day the countryside to see." in happy ignorance of the reports which reached kophetua's ears, penelophon continued with the players. indeed, she could not have done otherwise; for though she was treated kindly enough, yet bocco, the _arlecchino_, who had made the bargain with the queen-mother, and frampa, the old actress, his partner, took good care that she should not escape. she was far too valuable to lose. the firm of bocco and frampa, sole lessees and managers of the rumbling old caravans which were stage and dwelling and all, fully appreciated the prize they had captured, and were determined to watch it carefully. the payment which the queen-mother had promised on account of the girl made her precious enough to be a thing worth careful tending; but the professional eyes of the managers saw in their _protégée_ further possibilities of profit, which they valued even more highly. with the ready discrimination of old fanciers, they rapidly noted her points as soon as she was in their charge. they remarked complacently her graceful figure, her delicately moulded features, her great lustrous eyes, her wealth of silky hair, and the thrilling earnestness of her voice, and they nodded to each other with the solemn satisfaction of those who know. "it is the most promising material i ever remember handling," said bocco profoundly. "you are right, bocco," answered frampa, with the air of a _connaisseuse_ who does not praise lightly. "she is a little pale and sickly, of course, for my taste as she is; but fine feathers make fine birds. with a smart costume to show off her figure, and a good rouging, call me a dolt if i don't turn her over to you the prettiest bit that was ever on our boards." "and trust me to do the rest," replied bocco, with enthusiasm. "she was born for an actress--so sensitive, so tender, so intelligent. what stuff to work on! ah! i have a chance at last. think what i have done for that lump of stupidity and dulness, nora, and picture to yourself what the same hand will do with this piece of pure gold. but do you think you will bring her to it easily, frampa? she seems a shy, silly little thing." "trust me, bocco," said frampa, with dignity. "i am no journeyman. i know my trade. you do your part, and trust me to do mine. it is not the first." "right, frampa," answered bocco, with respect. "you are a genius. she will tax you hard if i read her right; but you are a genius." bocco was not mistaken. frampa found she had a hard task before her. all she could say or do could not draw from penelophon the slightest expression of a desire to appear on the stage; and when the old actress went further, and hinted how nice it would be for her to stand up like nora before the people, and hear them shout and clap with delight, penelophon only shuddered and looked like a frightened fawn. indeed, the very presence of the other actresses was painful to her. frampa she did not mind so much, for the manageress never acted now. she was too old and fat for anything but taking the money and dressing the girls. she had a not unpleasant face, with hard wrinkles and bright dark eyes, and a great double chin that had taken entire possession of the room once enjoyed by her neck. her ways were so kindly, too, that penelophon could be almost happy with her when she was not teasing her to act. the very idea of that grew more painful to her each day. to see nora sitting bold and brazen in her paint and shameless attire on the gaudy car, in which the company were wont to exhibit themselves through the villages, was too shocking for her to bear. she used to go and hide in frampa's cart, and try to think of trecenito, that she might shut out the wickedness that surrounded her. bocco was more successful with his part. he began by coming to the lonely girl, and repeating verses to amuse her. then he asked her to try and say them, and his bright black eyes looked at her so strangely that she dared not refuse. she grew afraid of him and the strange power in his sharp face which seemed to fascinate her. so she always tried hard to remember what he read to her, and say it as he did to please him, and make him go away and not stare at her. after penelophon had been with the players some weeks, to all these troubles a new one was added. for one day, while nora was riding her brazen course round a village which they had reached the night before, and penelophon was hiding in frampa's cart, she saw the door stealthily open, and the face of a man peep in and look at her. he said nothing, but went away as quietly as he came. presently the door opened once more, and the strange face was there again with another. suddenly, just as she thought they were coming in, and she was cowering down as close as she could in her corner, the door shut, and she heard the sound of feet hurrying away. then bocco came in, looking very angry. "do you know those men?" he asked, in his sharp way. "no," answered penelophon. "why do they come to look at me?" "because they are bad," answered the _arlecchino_. "if they ask you to go with them, be sure you do not. they are very bad. if they try to take you, cry out for me, and i will blast them with an evil eye. they dare not let me look on them as i know how. they will run away if you call out." bocco indeed had considerable faith in the power of his eye; but perhaps he told penelophon a little more than he actually believed; still he was generally credited by his acquaintances with the evil eye, and he made the best use of his reputation. now he wished to complete his influence over penelophon, for he felt it was more than ever necessary. for some days he had had a suspicion that he was being followed by some men of mysterious manners, and he shrewdly suspected their attentions were due to the presence of penelophon in the caravan. frampa and he apprehended an attempt to carry her off, and the chance of losing their hopeful _protégée_ increased their anxiety to make use of her. this last discovery of bocco's so alarmed him that he made up his mind to leave the village secretly by night, and go on to the next, in hopes of eluding his pursuers. there the caravan arrived on the following morning, and bocco felt himself comparatively safe; for on the precipitous rock above the village hung the royal hunting-tower. the king was there, he knew, and from this he hoped great things. the mysterious persecution of which he found himself the object determined him to waste no more time over penelophon's scruples. "it is of absolute necessity," he said to frampa, "that she must act. she must be forced or cheated into it at once." "yes, bocco," answered frampa. "we must not leave her alone; it is not safe." "and, besides," said bocco, "there is a greater reason still. some of the castle servants are sure to be at our performance. they cannot but be struck with the child, and the king will hear of her." "and will order a special performance," exclaimed frampa eagerly. "and will give us a protection," said bocco. "splendid!" cried frampa. "no one is so clever as you, bocco." so the two set about a scheme of which poor penelophon soon found herself the victim. it was growing very hot, and towards the middle of the day the girl had crept into a quiet place to sleep. it was a little shed leading out of the barn which bocco had hired for a theatre. it was frampa's private room, but as penelophon slept in her cart she felt she was free of the little shed too; so she spread her quilt in a corner, and, casting off her outer clothes, lay down to sleep. her slumber was disturbed. she had never really recovered from the effects of the rough treatment she had received at turbo's hands. the heat made her feverish, and the memory of what bocco had told her of the bad men took shape in troubled dreams. at last she awoke, unrefreshed, and with an aching head. she thought she would go out into the air; but when she sat up to reach her dress, she saw lying in its place a flimsy, spangled thing, such as nora wore on the stage. she took it up to discover what the change might mean, but she dropped it quickly when she saw how scanty and evil-looking it was, and lay down again with a flushed face. then the door opened, and she saw frampa come in. "o frampa!" she said, still blushing at the thought of the thing on her bed, "some one has taken my clothes and left me that. o frampa! go and see who has done it, and bring them back." "why, deary," said frampa, "what is the matter? i did it myself. the bad men have followed us here. so nora is going to wear your clothes, and i have got this for you to put on, so that the men will not know you. come, i will help you put it on." "o frampa!" said penelophon, with a shudder, "i cannot; indeed, i cannot. i should die of shame." "tut, tut, deary!" said frampa, "be a woman. you need not be afraid. you can stay here all alone, and no one will see you. so come now and put it on, and make yourself safe." "but are you sure no one will see me?" asked penelophon. "why, of course not, child," answered frampa cheerily. "you know no one can come here but i. there, there, that's a little woman." frampa raised up her _protégée_ as she spoke with motherly tenderness, and penelophon, trembling from head to foot, allowed herself to be clad in the actress's dress. but when it was on, and she saw how flaunting and shameless it was, and how it hardly covered her more than her own shift, she buried her face in her hands and began to cry. "there, there, deary," cried frampa soothingly, "don't take on so. 'tis nothing to cry over. many a bonny lass would jump for joy to make such a pretty figure as you do now." "i know, i know!" sobbed penelophon, whose trouble was only increased by frampa's admiration, "but i cannot help it. i will try to bear it because you are so kind; but i am so unhappy, and o frampa! my head aches past bearing." "well, never mind," cooed frampa; "have a good cry and lie down a bit. there now, that is it. shut your eyes, and let me charm your pain away." so penelophon did as she was told, and soon felt that frampa was stroking her face with something very pleasant and soft, while she sang a low-toned charm like a lullaby. it was soothing, and seemed to take away the pain. so penelophon lay quite still and left off crying. frampa's conjuring had gone on for some time, when all at once the door opened and she stopped. penelophon looked up. bocco's sharp face and bright black eyes were peering in. "they are here!" he cried, in affected alarm. "quick, frampa, bring her away. she is not safe there. bring her along and hide her." "come, child," said frampa, in great agitation, as the door closed again. "quick! jump up; we will foil them yet." penelophon rose mechanically in her alarm, and frampa half led, half dragged her to the door; but just as she reached it she caught sight of a face she hardly knew in frampa's mirror, which hung there upon the wall. for a moment she stopped and took another look. then with a low cry of horror she dragged her hand from frampa's and started back, staring at her conductor with a look in which terror struggled with reproach. "o frampa!" she cried, in a hushed voice of anguish, "what have you done? you have painted my face. oh, how wicked! how very wicked of you!" "nonsense, child!" cried frampa, getting a little vexed. "it is only to disguise you better. come along quick, or it will be too late." she took her by the wrist again, but penelophon hung back from her in disgust. just then the door opened and bocco rushed in again. "quick, my girl," he said, as, heedless of her fear, he took her other wrist and looked her hard in the face. "do what i bid you, and all will be well. but, mind, do as i say." then she gave herself up to her fate. there was something she could not resist in this man, and she let them lead her right through the barn. outside she saw the tawdry car standing ready, with all the men and girls upon it, except nora, whose place at the top was vacant. they all laughed and whispered together when penelophon appeared, but she had no time to heed them. "come, child," said bocco sharply, "climb with me; it is your only chance." the car was a kind of pyramid, on the flattened apex of which stood a stanchion with a gilded belt of metal attached to it. it was to this that nora was always fastened to prevent her falling with the jolting of the car. powerless for further resistance, penelophon soon found herself standing in nora's place, ready to sink with fear and shame. but bocco clasped the iron girdle tightly about her waist, and then got down to his own post in front. in another moment the music struck up, and the car began to move on its progress through the crowded village. the people shouted as they passed, for in their eyes penelophon was a beautiful sight, with her gaudy attire and high colour. bocco never ceased to crack his jokes, as the car laboured on towards the market-place; and the more he joked the louder the people shouted. the music grew wilder and wilder, and every one seemed half mad with excitement, till it was all like a horrible dream to penelophon. her thoughts seemed to be part of the scream of the fifes, and the squeaking of the fiddles, and the hurried clatter of the drum. they mixed helplessly with the wanton din and got lost. then it was as though it were some one else who was fastened there and not herself. she thought she was going mad. the throb and clatter of the mocking music had stolen all her senses. once she threw up her bare arms and screamed, but the people only shouted "brava! brava!" to her, and tossed up their caps in delight. she covered her ears to shut out the clamour, but it pierced through all. she tried to throw herself down, but the iron girdle pressed tightly about her waist, and she could not move. it seemed to be gripping her closer and closer, as though some vile thing had her in its embrace. at last everything swam before her, and she felt the end had come, when suddenly the music stopped, and the car came to a standstill in the middle of the crowded market-place. some one was answering bocco smartly out of the throng, and the people were jeering at him. the _arlecchino_ was not used to rivalry, and when he found he could not silence his antagonist he began to lose his temper and take to abuse. but he got nothing for his pains, except a large vegetable in his face, thrown by an unerring hand. in a moment he had leaped from his place to the ground, and was belabouring his assailant with his baton, for he was a high-spirited fellow enough when roused. some of the company rushed to their chief's assistance, and fell upon his adversary's friends. as for the bystanders, they took one side or the other, or none at all, as it suited them; but every one shouted, and the girls on the car added their frightened screams to the clamour. the fray was growing fast and furious, cudgels were whirling on all sides, and blood was beginning to flow, when some half-dozen men, in the uniform of the chancellor's runners, were seen making a way towards the car, where the fight was thickest. they used their halberts freely, and shouted as they came on, "peace! peace! in the chancellor's name!" so great was respect for the laws in oneiria, that something like order was very soon obtained, and the runners set to work to secure the players. still, it was not all done in a moment, and before the men were all manacled the girls had found time to run away and hide themselves, with the help of sympathising townsmen. only penelophon was left standing on the top of the car, unable to escape from the grip of her supports. "bring down the girl, one of you," cried the leader of the chancellor's men, and penelophon shuddered anew to see a rough fellow climbing up the car to her. but now a new diversion was made by the approach of the town bailiff, with his constables at his back. he came ruffling up to the chancellor's men, swelling with offended dignity. "who is this," he cried, "that dares to make arrest in a royal borough? it is i, the king's bailiff, who have jurisdiction here. come, hand over your prisoners at once, or i will clap you all in jail together." but the chancellor's men, armed with a special warrant, and fortified with the dignity of their uniform, had no idea of giving up their prize. a violent altercation ensued between the bailiff and the head runner. the man at penelophon's side leaped down to his chief's assistance, and two of the constables, anxious to make a point, at once took possession of her. this only made the runners more angry. they flatly refused to surrender their prisoners to any paltry bailiff. they were chancellor's men, they said, and would take a man in the king's own privy chamber if it pleased his excellency to order it. "well, we will soon see who is the better man," cried the infuriated bailiff, as the runners began to retreat, with the players in the midst of them. "clap the girl in the stocks, one of you--we will keep her at any rate--and then run for the watch, and bid them come after me. i will keep an eye on these curs meanwhile; and then we will see who is king and who is chancellor." penelophon soon found herself led out of the throng by one of the constables towards the upper end of the market-place, where the stocks stood waiting for her. she shrank in terror as she saw them, but the man dragged her on. the leg-holes looked like great wicked eyes gloating over her, and the whole thing seemed to the poor girl's fevered sense like some ugly monster, squatting down and waiting in hideous glee to devour her. most of the people followed the bailiff, so as not to lose the end of his quarrel with the chancellor's men, but a good many stayed to see penelophon put into the stocks. they gathered round, grinning and jesting, as the constable sat her down in the low settle at the back. ready to sink with shame, she covered her face with her hands, while the man lifted the hinge-board and made her feet fast. she thought the worst was done then, but rough hands took hers and drew them from her face. "come, lass," said the man, laughing, "i want these too." then she saw the iron clamps on the two side-posts, and knew what he was going to do. "not that, sir, not that!" she cried wildly; "for god's sake, leave me my hands to hide my shame!" "willingly, lass," the constable said mockingly, "if you can pay for them, but we can't let you hide a pretty face like yours without buying the privilege." "but i have no money?" she moaned imploringly. "so much the worse for both of us," said the man; "we shall neither of us have what we want." without further ceremony he fastened one little wrist against the side-post with the iron clamp, and then did the same with the other; and so, after a quiet survey of his work, strode off, and left her to the jeers of the little crowd that had gathered. poor penelophon! her cup was filled now past all endurance. when she looked down, it was but to find the spangled dress, which to her was like a robe of nessus. when she turned her eyes from that, it was only to see the staring townsfolk, and listen to their jeers at the painted face she could not hide. she felt each moment she would die. such agony could not last long. fortunately it was not many minutes, though to her it seemed hours, before she had some relief. a fellow came running by, crying out that the bailiff had taken all the chancellor's men, and was haling them to the court-house for summary justice. with that penelophon's tormentors took to their heels and ran after the new excitement. so she was left alone for half an hour or more. her position began to grow very painful. her feet were cramped, and the irons hurt her tender wrists, and it was a strange, undefined misery to be fastened there so long unable to move. but in a moment she forgot it all, when she heard men coming again into the deserted market-place. to be seen was the worst pain of all. she could hear the sound of horses' feet coming slowly across the square towards where she was fastened. in the bitterness of shame she hung her head, till she heard the horses stop in front of her. then, feeling anything was better than the sight of the shameless dress that clothed her, she looked up. with a cry of anguish she dragged at the clamps in a frantic impulse to hide her painted face; for there, upon his horse, erect and handsome, and sad past words, sat trecenito, looking at her. for a moment their eyes met, but only for a moment. she saw him give a sort of shudder of disgust. she saw him turn with a bitter laugh to captain pertinax, who rode behind him, and heard him say of her a thing so terrible that it seemed to drive the very life from her heart. like one in a swoon, she saw a vision of her angel angrily spurring his horse, and knew he had dashed away furiously out of the square with pertinax at his heels. chapter xxi. hunter and hunted. "but when they knew she was good as she was fair, then homage to the maid they paid." kophetua was naturally of a much too chivalrous disposition to suffer himself to be guided far by the impulse to which his sudden meeting with penelophon had given rise. indeed, before he had ridden half a mile he began to find his conduct inexcusable. he fully believed the story of the beggar-maid's light behaviour which had been so carefully prepared for his ears; but to see so sudden and shocking a confirmation of her wantonness had thrown him off his balance. now he was recovering himself, and he felt how unworthily of his philosophy he was acting. he was foolishly resenting as a crime an action which was the natural and almost inevitable outcome of a woman's contemptible nature. this girl had made a ridiculous fool of him, to be sure; but that was no reason why he should forget his self-respect. she was in trouble. no matter who or what she was, he must see her out of it. it was a rule of life with him, and, as a philosopher, he must observe his rules. they are not things to be broken with impunity. such was the reason he gave himself for reining in his horse and calling captain pertinax to his side. yet it was hardly the real cause of his change of purpose. kophetua had lost faith in himself and all the world. the lofty ideals of his romantic youth were withered and trodden under foot. he thought, like other men, that because they grew no longer green and vigorous in the ruined garden of his soul, that all such things for him had perished. he knew not how the flowers which once we valued highest, and whose savour seemed our very life, will fall and wither and be lost a while, only that forms of a beauty and fragrance beyond all we knew before may blossom out of their decay. so the king's good purpose sprang up and bore its flowers, but he knew not why. he remembered not how he himself had enriched with noble aspirations the soil in which it grew, nor ever guessed from what dead ideals its roots drew nourishment, deep down within his heart, in the grave where his boyhood lay buried. "i wish you to ride back to the village," said kophetua, in a constrained manner, as captain pertinax came up. "and how can i serve your majesty there?" asked the gendarme. "did you recognise the girl in the stocks?" said the king. "i did, sire," answered pertinax indifferently, as though he wished to imply it was an affair of his majesty's about which he had no curiosity, though, if the truth were told, his interest in the girl had certainly not diminished since the night he rescued her. "then you are aware," continued the king, "that she is the person whom you allowed to escape from your custody?" "i am painfully aware of my neglect," answered the officer, with humility. "very well," said the king shortly; "go and repair it. you know your duty." and with that he gathered his reins to ride on, thinking how neatly he had got over his difficult task. but his instructions were still incomplete, and pertinax did not go. "your majesty," began the officer, with hesitation. "well, sir?" cried the king sharply. "your majesty," continued pertinax, "has omitted to indicate the destination of the prisoner when re-arrested." "bring her," said the king desperately,--"bring her up to the castle. where else could you lodge her? here is my warrant to the town bailiff." he handed his signet ring to captain pertinax; and the gendarme, with great alacrity, rode rapidly back to the village, where he carried out kophetua's orders with the business-like despatch which characterised all his professional movements. as for the king, he went on to his solitude in the castle; for solitude indeed it was. it had always been his custom, when he periodically retired there, to live as far as possible the simple life of a hunter, with but one companion. it was only, he used to say, by lying in the bowers which your own axe had hewn, and living on the food which your own hand had won, that you could dip in the well-spring of life, and be made whole of all the diseases that were engendered in a civil state of existence. formerly this companion had always been turbo, but that was impossible now. so when kophetua determined to cut the bonds that were being so artfully twined round him, and boldly free himself by escape, he could think of none better to accompany him than the smart, jovial soldier with whom he had recently come in contact. he was a high-spirited, pleasant fellow enough, with a fund of stories and a rattling laugh. he was handsome, too, and good to have to look at, and, as for sport and camp-life, his fertility of resource in all the shifts and expedients of the hunter was quite phenomenal. when, added to all this, the king found that his comrade's activity and endurance were only surpassed by the sparkle and persistence of his good humour, he was delighted with his choice. in a few days, however, kophetua found out the difference between an attendant and a companion. as the former captain pertinax was complete; as the latter, entirely without value. it was well enough while they were out on the mountains, and could talk of sport or jest together over their rude meals; but when the night spread its pall of sadness and gloom over the world, kophetua's mind was full of other things, of which he longed to speak. once or twice he even attempted such conversation with captain pertinax, but the poor fellow stared at him with such a look of worried wonder that kophetua soon desisted from his efforts. this evening they were dining in a commonplace way in the castle, and captain pertinax was more than ever unsatisfactory. kophetua's meeting with penelophon had seriously unsettled the comparative equanimity at which he had arrived, and he found it quite impossible to be interested in the soldier's conversation. so, as soon as the meal was over, he dismissed him, and sat looking out from his window over the fertile valley below. far away it stretched, a broad, checkered expanse of cultivation, till it reached to the fantastic shapes of the mountain wall which shielded it from the sahara. he watched the sunset glowing on its tanks and water-courses, and thought how often he had sat there with turbo, talking over schemes for improving its irrigation. the past glowed in pleasant radiance through the veil of years, and made the present the more glaring and hideous. do what he would, he could not keep from his mind the bright little sparks which, in the last few months, had seemed to be kindling his life. untimely the glow had been smothered; and now it seemed as though, instead of the living fire, a smouldering smoke were rising up and spreading a black and stifling vapour over his gloomy life. as one that is suffocating, he strained unconsciously after a purer air. again and again, in sighs that grew ever sweeter, the balmy fragrance he desired was wafted to his poisoned senses, and whence it was he could not choose but know. down from the turret-chamber overhead it came--down from the room where lay the beggar-maid locked up all alone. it was useless to try and forget her. in the corner of the room was the little door which opened on to the turret stair; at his elbow hung the key which made her his. his solitude grew insupportable, and he began to cheat himself with reasons why he should visit his prisoner. he fell to wondering what was to be done with her. he told himself it was only half doing his work to bring her there and not try to find out how she got into trouble. unless he knew that, there was little chance of getting her out of it. at any rate, it would only be kind to go and ask her what she would like him to do with her, and learn how he could get her back to her friends, the players. he was playing with the key now as he sat and thought. a cynical smile was over his handsome face, as he held it up in his hand, and talked to it as though it were a little devil that was stronger than he. "why, what a stubborn little rogue it is!" he said. "here am i, thy king and master, changing to a thousand purposes like a summer wind, whilst thou wilt not flinch or waver a hair's-breadth for all i can say. curse thee for a stubborn rogue that will have his way at last!" in truth, it was a stunted, sturdy-looking thing, as he held it up to the light. it seemed to kophetua everything that he was not. "why, lad," he cried again, "'tis thou shouldst wear the crown. thou wouldst make a better king than i. yes, thou shalt be king--a sturdy little stubborn king--and i'll be slave." in bitter contempt of what he called his weakness, he laughed unsteadily as he rose and went to the door. lightly he mounted the winding stairs, jesting wildly in a low, excited voice to the key as he went. "hey! little rogue," he muttered, as he reached the room he sought. "hey! little rogue. in with thee now, and have thy way." he thrust it into the lock, and turned it sharply with another "hey! little rogue!" then in a moment his whole aspect was changed, and he stopped listening outside the closed door. it was a sob he had heard. just a woman's sob, low and tender, and heartrending beyond all that words can tell. what sound has power like that? the voice that tells of a gentle soul that is bruised and rent; of a tender spirit that can battle no more with its grief; of a staunch little heart that is stricken down at last, and is lying helpless in its anguish, while the woes it has so bravely fought trample it in triumph under foot. then another--and another--like voices that called to him out of heaven, and bade him imperiously be a man. quietly he opened the door and looked in. she was lying on a rough pallet, still in her paint and shameless dress, sobbing herself to sleep like a child. the soft red light of the dying day shed a false glow of reality over the picture. her little sylph-like figure glistened with an unearthly radiance as she sobbed, and the spangles on her elfish costume caught and lost the light. the colour on her cheeks glowed rich and warm, and her white breast and arms shone from out her littered hair with a fairy light of their own. she seemed an elf that was imprisoned and enchanted there; and kophetua, moved with the beautiful sight, advanced into the room and closed the door with beating heart. at the snap of the lock she looked up, and for a moment stared at him vacantly, as though her reason were unhinged. then she started up on the bed with the wild, helpless look of a fawn, when its captor visits it for the first time. "what!" she cried, "not you too! surely you have not come to mock me like the rest? go, go! for the love of heaven! you must not see me thus. my shame will never end if you look on it once. go, for the love of heaven, and come not near me! it is more than i can bear that you, too, should look at me!" she was sitting up on the bed, resting on one arm, with her feet curled under her. the other was stretched out against him, as though to keep his presence away. still he came near, not knowing what he did. her beauty drew him like a charm. in the anguish of her shame penelophon made one more effort, and, springing from her pallet, she fell on her knees before him. in wild entreaty she was gazing up out of her dark eyes, which still shone with all the added radiance of frampa's art, and she held the hem of his coat convulsively in her little white hands as she poured forth her passionate prayer. "leave me, leave me!" she cried, "for the love of god! do not be angry that i ask this thing. i have not forgotten; but you cannot understand the anguish you bring. indeed, it is more than i can bear. you cannot tell what it is to crouch here, befouled as i am, for a man to see. if you were a woman, you would guess. i know your greatness and nobleness and spotless honour. i have not forgotten; indeed, i have not, though you see me so changed. i know you cannot think an evil thought or do an evil thing, yet even you i cannot endure to see me thus. you have come in kindness, i know, to help and comfort me, as you always did. i have not forgotten. but oh! my angel, for you to see my shame is greater pain than even you can heal! so leave me--leave me, as you are great and godlike, before the anguish kills me. you have power above all to take away sorrow and drive out sin. it is you who bring down heaven to me on earth; but not even for heaven can i be seen like this. to be near you was like paradise. i have not forgotten; i cannot forget. you are all the world to me; but not as i am--not as i am!" "but why are you thus," he said, irresolute and unable to comprehend whether it was play or earnest, "if it was not your desire? was it not for this you ran away to the players? what else did you expect? you should be glad, they have made you so pretty." "don't! don't!" she said in anguish, as she hid her painted face in her hands; "i cannot bear it. i never dreamed they would be so wicked when your good mother took me to them. she would punish them if she knew." "what!" exclaimed the astonished king, "my mother took you to them? what do you mean? tell me quickly." and penelophon, in a low, hurried voice, told him the story of her betrayal. overwhelmed with shame she could hardly speak. her distress was so acute and genuine that kophetua's heart bled for her as she told, in simple words, of the ordeal through which she had passed unscathed. a sort of fierce, defiant joy sprang up in his heart as she ceased, to think that his own mother, with all her saintliness, the last friend who had not proved untrue, should now be found out as false and wicked and worldly as the rest. he rejoiced, for at last he was sure that he and the poor crouching thing at his feet were alone in the world together. he had seen her in her filth and rags, he had seen her in the chaste simplicity of her handmaid's dress, he had seen her as one over whom the cleansing hand of death had passed; yet never had she shone so pure and holy in his eyes as now, all wantonly bedizened and painted as she was. the frame of dishonour in which her angel beauty was set seemed but to make her more divine. humbled and ashamed, kophetua devoutly laid his hand upon her head, and turned her face up to him. he saw no more the rouge and the paint. he marked not the wanton garb in which her beauty was displayed. there was nothing there but the image of perfect womanhood which his dreams had made. he had one wild impulse to take her up in his arms and kiss away her shame, but the holiness which shone in her pleading eyes still held her sacred. "i will go, child," he said, very gently. "i ask your pardon that i ever came. i will go and see that ere an hour is passed your suffering is ended." she kissed the lace on the skirts of his coat, as though she would have stayed him for her thanks; but he hurried away, feeling it were guilt to look again. presently the women of the castle came to her with water in which she might wash, and a bundle of old clothes, too worn and stained for them to wear. so it was they obeyed the king's behest to see her fitly clad. still they were such as she would have chosen for herself; and the night closed in upon her as she slept in peace, happy at last in her mean attire. in the morning they came again to bring her food; but, in wonder, they saw the chamber was empty. in great trepidation they ran to captain pertinax for advice. with his usual determination he said the king must be awakened. the morning was well advanced, and he feared no evil consequences, especially as the news was important and pressing. he took the responsibility on himself, and entered the king's bedchamber. presently he came out, looking very serious. they scanned his face narrowly, fearing some ill news. "his majesty is indisposed," was all he said. "he will not come forth to-day, and will need no attendance but mine." but the trusty captain lied for his master. the king was gone too. chapter xxii. hermits. "'for thou,' quoth he, 'shalt be my wife, and honoured for my queene; with thee i meane to lead my life, as shortly shall be seene.'" far away in an interminable vista of rock and forest, which lay behind the king's hunting-tower, like the littered ruins of a world, stretched out the wilderness. silent lay the piles of desolation, rank after rank, and voiceless save for the tales which none could understand of the ages that were gone. and wildest of all, and more silent and full of inarticulate eloquence, was the rift where the cañon of the hermits split the waste in two. deep into the bowels of the stony land a soft, little, laughing river had licked its way; and now in a cool channel, flanked with perpendicular walls, it ran on, hundreds of feet below the level of the wilderness, and seemed to rejoice to think how unenduring beside itself was the everlasting rock. once or twice in a century a man might find the spot as he followed a trail or sought the riches that lay hidden in the hills. and there, as he stood upon the brink of that titanic trench, he could not but feel the overpowering presence of the ages which were young when the foundations of the world were laid. he could not but feel, when he listened to the river far below, singing over its never-ending task, what a paltry scratching was the greatest work a man could do between the cradle and the grave. perhaps it was this that made the hermits choose it for a resting-place, and its utter solitude as well. whatever was the cause, here they had settled, where the perpendicular walls were grimmest and highest; and here, far up in the face of the gaunt cliffs, they had hewn out caves to dwell in. visibly there was no approach to them; but he who found his way to the little meadows at the foot, and pierced the luxuriant shrubs, that from which the mighty ramparts sprung, would have discovered on either hand a larger cave, which served at once as entrance-hall and corral to the monastery. from the inmost recess of these a rude spiral stair, cut in the solid rock, led upwards to a maze of crooked and inclined galleries communicating with the cells. strange as was the hermitage, the hermits were stranger still. their order was probably without parallel in the history of christian monasticism. for here in each cell lived monk and nun as man and wife. the origin of the order was lost in obscurity and unknown. the literature on the subject was consequently prodigious. it is hardly too much to say that oneirian archæology lived on it. the accessible data were, however, confined to two rubbings of symbols, said to be carved on the walls of all the cells. the younger members of the royal society were prepared to prove from these that the order was pagan in its origin, and, further, that it was the original unreformed oriental predecessor of the eleusinian mysteries. smart scientific and literary society took this view to a man; but plain people, such as local antiquaries, believed it to be a very ancient heresy of the carthaginian church. both, perhaps, were right. the gloomy pessimism of african christianity took many fantastic forms; and this, the most fantastic of all, may well have been a montanist modification of some pre-existing pagan brotherhood. at any rate, it is certain that the order was in existence when kophetua's ancestor founded his colony. at that time it was an isolated print of the cross in a waste of heathendom; and, as soon as it was discovered, the old knight took it under his protection. he found a place for it in his absorptive community, along with all the other ruins of peoples and social systems with which the country was littered. he affiliated it to his beggar-guild. the order was thereafter regularly subsidised; the hermits were registered; and, though amongst themselves they were all equal, they were placed under an abbot, who represented them in their relation to the state. in those days the community had been numerous, but now its numbers had greatly fallen off. all children that were born to the hermits were taken away in infancy, to be brought up at a hospital of the order in a neighbouring town; and, though formerly many re-entered the hermitage, most of them now preferred the licence of the beggars' guild, of which they were free. penelophon herself had been born in the monastery; but her father, on the death of his wife, had claimed his children in a fit of insane anger at heaven, and taken to the liberties of st. lazarus. the abbot had now scarce half a score of brethren and sisters to be responsible for; but he regularly made his report, and went to receive his subsidy. it was during one of these expeditions that kophetua had encountered him out hunting. he was a pale man, with a red, ragged beard, and grey eyes, which glistened under their white lashes with an unhealthy restlessness. his spare figure, too, stooped forward with an air half feeble, half eager, so that his whole aspect was one of aimless intensity. the eagerness of the man had so struck kophetua that he had accosted him; and, interested in his wild talk, had accompanied him, without revealing his identity, as far as his cell. besides the hermits, kophetua was probably the only man who knew where the rocky monastery was; and it was his first thought, after he had left penelophon, that it was there he would be able to find a safe refuge for her. so, with the first glimmer of dawn, he had summoned her from her prison, and silently stolen out to the stables. here he had saddled his horse, and, strapping a cushion across its withers, had ridden away, with penelophon before him. they spoke little as they went; she was too happy, and he half afraid. for, in the soiled and shabby gown she wore, and with her hair knotted loosely up as best she could, she seemed once more the same strange thing that first had fascinated him in its rags and filth. presently she grew tired, and her head gradually fell upon his breast. then, as she nestled close to him, a sense of peace came into his heart. even as he had gone to fetch her from the turret he knew the desire of finding her a refuge was not the only reason for what he did. another lay whispering deep down in the bottom of his thoughts. at first he would not own it; but now, as he neared the monastery, and the beggar-maid nestled still closer in her weariness, the little voice spoke louder, the fancy seemed less wild, and throne and crown and people grew faint and far away. the abbot was getting water from the stream as, having descended the difficult bridle-way by which the hermitage was reached, they approached it along the meadows. he looked up in great surprise to see riding towards him a young man in a plain hunting dress, with a girl in a grey gown, old and patched, on the saddle before him. it was many years now since a pair had come to join the hermit community, and they were younger than any novices he himself could remember. so he set down his gourd, and came forward eagerly to meet them. "welcome! welcome, my children!" he cried. "even so should ye come to the holy place, riding upon one horse, even as one thought shall henceforth bear you both through life till the end. come, my son, trust thy wife a moment to me, that i may lift her down. then take her to thy breast for ever." a faint flush overspread penelophon's wan face as the hermit held up his arms to take her. and as for kophetua, he felt his heart leap in a kind of reckless ecstasy; the blood rushed tingling through his veins, and the whispering thought that had lain so quiet seemed to spring up and speak aloud. the moments flew by, and kophetua let them go with never a word. penelophon gazed with wide eyes upon him, in shy wonder that he still held back the truth. but kophetua could not speak. the long romantic ride, the almost unearthly scene about him, and the abbot's unexpected welcome had strangely affected him. that plain little word "wife" was full of magic. it seemed to have transformed his life into an old tale and himself into its unreal hero. an excitement of a delicacy he had never known took possession of him. it was like playing in a masquerade, where the audience believed what they saw was real. it was play with all the spice of earnest, and he could not bring himself to break the spell. it would be time enough to explain to-morrow, he thought. to-night, at any rate, the hermit's mistake would assure them of shelter, which it was possible he might deny if he knew the truth. so kophetua put his horse in the great cave on the abbot's side of the stream, and then they all went together up to his cell, where his wife prepared a frugal meal. long they sat together, listening to the anchorites as they talked of the blessedness of the married state; and each time they spoke of them as man and wife kophetua's heart beat with fresh delight, and the beggar-maid blushed anew. night fell at last, and the hermit led them further up the long winding stair, all dark and slippery with the dripping moisture, to the cell that was to be theirs. there he placed a flickering lamp in a little recess, and then, with his blessing, left them alone in the heart of the living rock. for a little while they occupied themselves examining the gloomy abode. but the feeling of oppression, from the vast masses of rock that encompassed them, grew insupportable to the king, and he led the beggar-maid to the mouth of the cave. there they stood in silence, side by side, looking out upon the night. before them was the giant wall of grey rock, pierced here and there with dark holes, that were caves like their own. in one glimmered a feeble light, and from it crept a weird, low sound, as of a man and a woman monotonously chanting a weary prayer. then it ceased; the light died out with the chant, and, save for the voice of the heedless river, as it hurried on far below them, all was hushed in the majesty of the night. the sense of perfect solitude that fell upon kophetua then was strangely sweet. far beyond the dark fringe of jungle that crowned the cliff rolled the solemn stars, but even they seemed nearer than the world he had left. as the last sign of life disappeared, he turned instinctively to the companion of his place. he saw her dimly in the faint starlight gazing wistfully at him. as their eyes met she leaned earnestly towards him, and half put out her hand in an unfinished gesture of supplication. "trecenito!" she said, and then stopped abruptly; but into the one word was gathered such intense emotion, such a world of inarticulate entreaty, that it made him start, and his breath came fast. for some moments they stood looking at each other, each deeply moved, and it was penelophon who braved the evil silence and spoke first. "trecenito," she said again, "why did you let them call us man and wife? tell me, am i--am i indeed your wife?" once more her voice seemed to shed around the dim figure an inviolable holiness, and make him suddenly calm. without a word he quietly stepped towards her, and deliberately put his signet ring upon her finger. then, taking the grey form in his arms, he gently kissed the pure, pale face. in another moment she heard his firm step on the rocky stairs, and he was gone. in the morning, when the abbot came to milk his cow, he found kophetua fast asleep on a heap of rushes beside his horse. immediately he roused him. "my son, my son," he cried, "what do you here? why are you not beside your wife?" the king sprang up, and rubbed his eyes. then he stared a while hard at the hermit's eager face, till he could remember where he was. "i have no wife," he said abruptly; and, striding past the hermit, he walked rapidly to the river, and, casting off his clothes, he leaped into the cool and sparkling water. but even the heedless river could not bring back to him the cynical calm he had lost. the ancient mystery of the place hung on him still like a spell, and the river ran by behind him, laughing in lofty contempt, as he took his way back. no longer could he think as was his wont. the grim cliffs seemed to bar him from his old philosophy; and out of the dark holes in their face, which marked the deserted cells, seemed to come whisperings of thoughts long dead. the ghosts of all the sharp griefs and insane dreaming that had wafted men and women hither, age after age, in search of peace, streamed out like some unseen miasma, and compassed him about. how many had been whirled into this silent eddy in the great river of time before him to find or wait for the telling of the great secret that vexed their soul! it was all he could bring his thoughts to rest on. he felt about him, like a living presence, the spirit of a mysticism long since dead, and he could reason no more. suddenly he started to find himself face to face with the red-bearded hermit. "what is this sin, my son? what is this lie?" cried the man, with unsteady anger in his eye and voice. "it is no sin. it is no lie," answered kophetua sharply. "she is not my wife. last night she was, if ever man had wife. you yourself called her so, and i was sure you spoke a sudden truth; but to-day it is changed. you lied. she is not my wife. she shall not be my wife!" he was conscious of speaking like a madman, but it was all he could find to say. the hermit was in no way troubled at his wild speech. it seemed the language he best understood. "and why not, my son?" he answered quietly, though his eyes glittered restlessly still. "because it was not for that i brought her here," said the king, trying to bring back clearly the events and thoughts of yesterday. "i brought her hither for refuge. she is wronged, foully wronged and persecuted, and you must give her sanctuary." "'tis not my office," said the hermit. "you should take her to the king." "nay," cried kophetua, "her wrongs are more than a king can redress. it is you who must give her shelter." "it is impossible," said the abbot. "by the eternal laws, which no one can break, none but man and wife may abide with us. stay thou with her, and all will be well." "it cannot be," answered the king. "the voice of duty calls too loud elsewhere." "what duty is it speaks so big?" said the hermit, smiling, as though he spoke with a child, to humour it from its wilfulness. "i am one in high place," answered kophetua. "i am master of wide lands, and the well-being of the people calls me back." "ah, thou art like them all, my son," said the hermit sadly; "and yet there is better than that in thee. i was even so myself long years ago. far away to the northward, by the blue waters of the mediterranean, i had authority over men. i had struggled for it from boyhood, for i knew there was no peace save in breeding happiness for the world; so i sought and won high place that i might teach men virtue and wisdom, and make laws to force them to it." "and that is my life too," cried kophetua. "it is the life it is cowardice to leave." "nay, hear me," continued the hermit. "there are worse sins than cowardice; and those are they which men commit in the life i led. for, mark me, however thou shalt ponder and prune and assay, yet every law thou shalt make to uproot an abuse shall sow the seed of twenty more. what law was ever proclaimed that did not bring evil in its train? i saw my choicest measures, that had cost me all the wisdom and strength that was in me, imperfect, always imperfect. as i passed by the ruins of the evil i had smitten, lo! i saw on all hands new crimes for men to commit. look forward, i tell thee, as far as thou wilt, and look again and again in thy diligence to foresee the results for good or evil of what thou art about to do; strain thine eyes each time further into the unborn time, till men shall wonder at thy foresight; yet never, never shalt thou see the end. even close in front of where thy vision reached at furthest may slumber an evil tenfold more pestilent than that thou wouldst destroy, and the forces thou hast started shall waken it at last. if man will meddle with god's work, evil will come in the end. if he shall try to drive the chariot of the sun, he will only scorch the earth. god planted his laws in the beginning of the world that they might grow in his strength. it is only because men, in the vanity of their false wisdom, have cut and pruned and forced them to unnatural growth that there is evil in the world. leave them alone, i say, and sin not." "nay, rather," cried kophetua, "leave them and sin perforce. for how shall a man find the path of virtue if he cease to try and better his neighbours' lot." "god has shown us the way," exclaimed the abbot, as one inspired; "join us, and thou shalt see it too. to this end woman was given to man, and man to woman. take thou a woman to thyself, and find in her food to feed thy yearning. take one soul, and live for it. to desire more is but vanity and ambition. men will think themselves so great that one is not enough for their devotion; but god meant otherwise. man and woman he made to be together, one perfect being. to cement this unity he gave us the noble yearning of unselfishness, which has gone so wide astray. in their pride men let it dissipate itself in ambitious philanthropy. love for the race is a dream. it is love of man and wife that is the only truth." kophetua could not but be moved by the man's earnestness, so strangely unhinged as he was by his surroundings and his troubles. the evils that the old knight's grandest fancy had bred came vividly before him. did this hermit give the key of the mystery why his own life had been as great a failure as the beggar-guild? the hermit's solution of the great problem was easy; and sweet as it was easy. "but i have no wife," objected the king, as he felt himself yielding. "ay, but there is one within thy reach," said the abbot. "take her whom thou broughtest hither last night." "but there is none to wed us here," answered kophetua, still seeking an escape from the influence around him; "we will depart, and come again as man and wife." "there is no need," said the hermit. "it is not ceremonies that unite two half-souls into one. stay here the period of probation. consecrate thy life to her; sacrifice thine every hour to her greater comfort; offer to her thine every thought and every action till the months of thy noviciate be expired. by such ennobling service shalt thou find thyself more truly wed to her than by the grandest and most solemn rites that ever priests devised. why, thou knowest it is true! didst thou not feel it last night, when thou couldst not deny she was thy wife?" then the king could answer nothing; he wandered away without a word, and talked with other hermits. all had the same doctrine to preach, and each time its truth sank deeper into kophetua's heart. day after day went by, and still he did not depart. all day long the king and the beggar-maid wandered by the side of the busy river like lovers, and never were parted, save when the night fell and the abbess came to call penelophon to the cell beside her own, or when kophetua climbed up into the hanging woods to trap a deer and snare her a bird. hours they spent fishing, and took but little; for the king had no eye for his float, let it bob how it would. the most part of the time he would lie upon the flowery meadow, gazing like one bewitched at that for which he lived; and that was penelophon, sitting before him and wreathing flowers and singing a low song, that mingled harmoniously with the happy hum of the little lives of which the air was full. ever and again she ceased, and the king crept to her to put his arm about her lovingly, and gently kiss the delicate face, as though he sipped honey from a flower. between each kiss she looked at him, still in shy wonder, not able to believe such happiness was real. so they would sit a little space, till the king was minded of his fishing, and rose to cast his line anew. that business done, he stretched himself upon the grass again to watch his float, and never watched it. for the maid began another garland and another song, as one that dreamed, and the king must feed his eyes again till his lips grew envious once more. so the two worshipped one the other, and with idyllic ritual dallied through the long marriage service which the hermits had enjoined. chapter xxiii. an official report. "and she behaved herself that day as if she had never walkt the way." kophetua's disappearance did little to allay the storm that was brewing in the political world. for, of course, it was very soon known that he had disappeared. news was scarce in oneiria, and greedily sought for. to keep such a savoury morsel from the maw of the quidnuncs was even beyond captain pertinax's powers. the simultaneous escape of the beggar-maid was naturally mentioned. not that the informers wished to suggest any scandalous inferences, but merely in the interests of justice. those who were not in the secret of her connection with the king had inexhaustible information on the point of a most authentic type. the few who knew carefully held their peace. the queen-mother, labouring under her unhappy misconception of the case, was heart-broken. the move she had been so proud of had brought about the very catastrophe she dreaded. she was inconsolable, and in a few days retired to her country house, and refused to see any one. as for turbo, he was not a little anxious. his respect for the king was considerably increased by recent events, and he had a suspicion that kophetua meant to spring a bride on him after all. he consulted his fellow-conspirator, and found that the marquis had received the matter with his usual light-hearted confidence. "it is merely a question of hastening the revolution a little," said m. de tricotrin airily. "we must resolve the council into a committee of safety, call a convention parliament, declare the throne vacant, and pass our provisional constitution. nothing is simpler. on the whole, this new situation improves our prospects." m. de tricotrin ran off his programme as glibly as though a revolution were no more difficult than the arrangement of so many pleasant little parties, for which it was merely necessary to send out notes of invitation. turbo was not so confident. general dolabella was sounded. he had joined the triumvirate on the express understanding that nothing violent or precipitate or vulgar was to be done. he had been assured that the revolution should not so much as break the skin of the constitution; and he adhered. now, to the marquis's proposition, he offered an unqualified dissent. "create your committee," he said, "if you like. i have no objection; but i cannot answer for my party, nor for the army nor the church, if the convention parliament meets a day sooner than the natural end of his majesty's reign; and i must insist that, before taking any steps whatever, some official effort be made to discover the fate of the king." being commander-in-chief the general had to be humoured. as a conspirator, he was not a success. he was full of vanity and nervousness; and every one knows that is a union which breeds nothing so much as obstruction. he himself pardonably mistook the two qualities which he brought to the revolutionary councils for self-reliance and vigilance. he was always making a fuss; and, in order to remove the obstacles which he raised with prodigal fertility, turbo and the marquis found it more and more necessary to let him into their confidence. the idea of the conspirators was naturally enough a republic on the roman lines. the classics were popular at the time, and the dual consulate seemed peculiarly adapted for tiding over the real question which was nearest their hearts. for, of course, both turbo and the marquis merely regarded a republic as the foundation for a tyranny which each of them intended for himself; and had not the general's vanity been fathomless, he would have been overwhelmed with the caresses which each of his colleagues showered upon him, with a view to obtaining an ally when the final struggle began. meanwhile everything went on as smoothly as could be expected. the conspirators and their immediate partisans anticipated no difficulty in inducing the house to accept the new constitution. the consular form seemed to remove every difficulty. turbo would represent the kallist party; de tricotrin, who had quite stepped into the shoes of the queen-mother since her retirement, the agathist. it was agreed that they were to be the first two consuls; while the general was to be flattered and his party consoled with the presidency of the senate. dolabella was also to retain his present offices, with an enlarged salary, in view of his past services and increasing family. so very attractive, indeed, was the prospect which the chancellor and the marquis had sketched out, that they were both desperately anxious to see it put in with permanent colours. they lost no time in fulfilling the general's preliminary condition--a commission was appointed to report on the disappearance of the king and the chances of his return. voluminous evidence was taken; but the only fragment of it all that was of any value was the testimony of captain pertinax, and he protested that he neither knew nor could guess anything of his master's movements. the commission promptly reported itself a failure. theoretically, the king's person no longer existed. he was a factor that could now be eliminated from the problem. it was done without delay; the committee of safety began to sit, and the general's nervousness was redoubled. yet he was not without his consolation, and he availed himself of it almost intemperately. to every new cajolery which turbo could invent to win over the commander-in-chief, m. de tricotrin had one overwhelming answer, and that was his daughter. mlle de tricotrin, having been initiated into the whole plot, consented to obey her father's instructions, and make desperate love to the soft-hearted general, or rather to allow him to make love to her. could anything have added to the unhappy girl's misery, it would have been this. the old beau's gallantries were insufferable after the splendid homage of kophetua; and the abasement under which she groaned at having to endure them with a smile was proportional to the self-respect which the king's chivalrous admiration had revived. she hated and despised herself more than ever. the memory of penelophon's betrayal pricked and scourged her into a deep melancholy. by it she had lost not only the new-born faith in herself, but her earthly paradise as well. for as such she knew it now--the life that might have been hers. she knew that at last she loved the man whom at first she only desired. she felt she could give the whole world to have his love in return. throneless and penniless she would take him now, and give more to win him than an empire. and this was the man she had driven to suicide or madness--she knew not what. by her crime she had poisoned herself in his eyes, and her handmaid too; and he she loved so well had fled the world in despair. she knew him well, and understood it all. it was a torment almost past endurance, and yet day by day she must smile beneath it, and push her father's scheme to try and drive the memory from her head. so she lay one afternoon upon her divan, little more than a week before the king's reign would come to an end, feeling, as the catastrophe drew near, there was nothing she would not do to repair the wrong of which she was guilty. she was awaiting the general's now daily visit, dressed voluptuously in one of those wonderful _demi-toilettes_, which drove the foolish old officer to the verge of distraction, and made him feel that one hour of her society, even at the tantalising distance she preserved, was compensation enough for all the little ease at home with which madame dolabella's jealousy made itself evident. in due course he made his appearance; but it was not with the gallant air that usually distinguished him. he was evidently excited. "mademoiselle!" he cried, seating himself beside her without ceremony or greeting, and spreading out a paper. "see here. what shall i do? i must do something, and there is no one i may safely consult but yourself." "my dear general," said mlle de tricotrin, "calm yourself, and tell me all about it." "calm myself!" said the general, sinking his voice to an agitated whisper. "how can i? the king is alive, and i know where he is!" mlle de tricotrin started up, and, seizing the paper from the general's hand, began to read it eagerly. her beautiful lips parted, and her breath came quick and fast, as her eye ran down the lines. it was a report addressed to the minister of public worship by the abbot of the cañon hermits, giving him official intimation of the arrival of two novices, and furnishing him with particulars of their personal appearance for purposes of preliminary registration. "there is no doubt who the novices are," she said. "not the slightest," answered the general; and then stopped, as he saw the eyes he adored dim with tears. in a moment she understood it all, and knew that another had won the love for which she could never cease to hunger. it was a bitter morsel between her lips; yet the desire to repair the injury she had done, and regain a little of the good opinion she had forfeited, prevailed over all. she had lost him, she knew, and her only consolation was to make him regret her. could she but find some means to release him from his enchantment it would be done. his eyes would be open, and he would see what a mistake he had made. "what do you propose to do?" she asked abruptly, as she rose from her couch to hide her tears. "to get the committee of safety summoned at once," he said, "and inform them of what i have discovered, that they may immediately dissolve themselves and send a deputation to the king, imploring his return." "and you will explain to my father and the chancellor," said héloise, "that the revolution must go no further." "precisely." "and find yourself in the tower before the day is over." "my dear mademoiselle!" cried the general in alarm, "what do you mean?" "why, my poor friend," she answered, "do you think they will go back now, with their hands on the prize? no! you have gone so far; you must go to the end. you are committed to a republic and the king's deposition." "but this is terrible. i never intended----" "i dare say not, general; but they intended all this for you, and it is i that have been told off to make a fool of you. don't you see that?" "it is a little difficult at first," said the unhappy warrior lugubriously. "so much the better," said mlle de tricotrin. "pretend it is impossible. they must not think you see through them. let no one get a sight of this report. go on just as before; keep their eyes shut a few days longer, and leave the rest to me." "but, my dear mademoiselle," objected dolabella, "you cannot appreciate what it is you ask. you, no doubt, being a frenchwoman, are used to revolutions. but to me they are unusual occurrences, and i cannot help them making me a little anxious and nervous. how can you ask me to further this desperate plot now i am aware of its enormity, on the mere chance that you, a woman----" "hush, my general!" she said, putting her little soft hand over his mouth, with the prettiest gesture in the world, and looking with all her art into his dazzled eyes. "is it possible you distrust your _déesse_?" "if i distrust, mademoiselle," said the soft-hearted soldier, utterly overcome, "at least it is impossible to resist. i will act implicitly by your directions. deign to tell me what they are at this moment." for a little while she paced up and down the room, not regarding her foolish adorer. her face was flushed and agitated, as thoughts, good and evil, battled once more for supremacy. love whispered revenge, and love whispered devotion. to which voice would she give ear at last? she felt it in her power to lift up the man who had discarded her to his throne again, or to condemn him for ever to the life which she knew would soon become intolerable to his refinement. suddenly she paused before the general. "place captain pertinax under my orders, and send him to me at once." like a queen she gave him her command, held her hand for him to kiss, and waved his dismissal without another word. chapter xxiv. the sacrifice of love. "and when he felt the arrow pricke, which in his tender heart did sticke, he looketh as he would dye." it is not to be denied that in the course of a few weeks kophetua began to find the hermits' marriage ceremony not a little irksome. it was not that the idea was any the less attractive to his imagination. their notion of the real meaning of the period of affiance commended itself entirely to his lofty sentiments. he felt it was a reproach to civilisation that a few prayers and ritualistic forms should have been suffered to supplant the long vigil of the betrothal. the matrimonial state of his ideal was one long sacrament of transcendent sanctity, and he had come to believe that only by months of mutual worship and sacrifice could two lives be consecrated together. he grappled the situation with all the fanatical ardour of which a poet alone is capable; but from penelophon he could get no response. for hours he talked melodious mysticism to her in the homeliest phrases he could find, but she only looked at him in ever-increasing wonder, till her face grew so troubled that he was compelled to cease and take her soothingly in his arms to pet her like a child. then she could understand; and, when his lips gently touched her cheek, she crept close to him, and often began to cry quite quietly, to think how far they were apart, though they sat so close. the old stained dress she wore was always tearing on the rocks and brakes, and hung in rags about her. each new rent seemed to widen the gap; and, though she nestled never so near when his arms closed about her, she felt him growing each day more godlike, and herself sinking deeper back to beggardom. he strove to make her set him tasks to do for her, and she never could think of anything but a flower for him to fetch or a deer to kill, and always she cried when he was gone, for very shame that such a man should do such work for her. one day, when he had tried his hardest to make her see with his eyes, and she seemed still more troubled than ever, she had asked for a flower that grew on the cliffs above, knowing it was the best way to please him. so he hastened away with studied devotion, and quickly reached the summit. there he picked the blossom, and hurried down again, keeping steadfastly in his mind the while the wan, ragged figure, with the unkempt hair, that was awaiting him below. leaping from rock to rock, he soon reached the zigzag path by which he himself had at first descended. as he sprang down into it out of the bushes, he was startled by a little cry, and the sound of a horse's feet. he looked up to see a vision that made his brain reel. for there before him, upon a splendid arab, whose alarm she was controlling with matchless grace and skill, sat, more lovely in his eyes than ever, mlle de tricotrin. she was dressed in a riding costume of bewitching fashion, and her face was flushed and her eyes glittering in her efforts to quiet the startled horse. everything about her was in perfect taste, and of the latest mode, and the air seemed redolent with the freshest breath of modern grace and refinement. he was painfully conscious of the impression this sudden meeting had made on him. he felt ashamed to be so caught, then angry at the intrusion, and turned on his heel to go. but another little cry, and a plunge of the horse, arrested him. his new movement had alarmed the frightened animal again. it was backing to the edge of the narrow path, where the precipice sank away to a depth of a hundred feet or more. setting her lips, mlle de tricotrin was courageously trying to check the perilous movement, but in vain. already her feet overhung the precipice. it was impossible for her to dismount, and kophetua saw that any attempt to grasp the bridle could only be fatal. in a moment he was at her side. seizing her by the waist, he dragged her from the saddle, and then, with one frantic plunge, the arab crashed into the abyss below. for a little while he was obliged to support her as they stood, fearing she would faint. but she quickly recovered her strength. then she quietly disengaged herself from his arm, and stood a little aloof. "your majesty has saved my life," she said simply, and then stopped, as though too moved to say more; but her words seemed to mean a thousand things. "and how can i serve you further?" he asked, unable to take his eyes from her matchless beauty, as she stood before him trembling and agitated, with downcast eyes. "i only ask," she answered gently, "that you should pardon this intrusion and hear my errand." he bent his head in royal assent, and she continued. "i came not idly," she said; "i came to save your people from the terrible calamity my wickedness has brought upon them. i come, king," she burst out, looking full in his face, with a little tragic air that well became the situation, "to summon you back to the duty you have deserted, to call you to the throne you have abandoned, to bid you turn your flight and face the fight once more. i come to charge you remember the name you bear, and the memory of your ancestors. full of the spirit of the old knight i come, and with the voice of the mighty dead i charge you rise from your enchantment. traitors are creeping to your royal hearth. rise up and strangle them. it was never so shamed before." then, with glowing words, and form transfigured, as it were, by inspiration, she told him of the plot which was on foot to wrest the sceptre from him. as the rich voice rang in his ears, he began to catch her enthusiasm, till anger filled his heart, and his eyes were open. "by the splendour of god!" he cried, "they shall know a kophetua is yet alive and reigns. i will return and crush them. if i leave the throne, it shall be of my own free will, and in favour of whom i will. i will return and teach them what it is to rouse the soul of the knight. come! i will return, i say; i--and my queen." his voice fell nervously as he uttered the last words, and she dropped her eyes and bowed her head in touching resignation that was almost more than he could bear. "you must descend with me," he said, with an embarrassed air, "to eat and rest before we start." so they went down together, he helping her past the difficult places; and each time he touched her hand he felt a thrill pass through him, as though some subtle poison was passing upon his life. "it is difficult to know how to thank you, mademoiselle," he said, after a long silence. "it is not thanks i desire," she answered. "it is forgiveness." "but how did you find my retreat," he asked quickly, to change the key. "devotion to your majesty is a cunning guide," she replied. "it was that which showed me the way." "may i not know who were your allies?" he asked. "your majesty may know anything that i have to tell. you have only to command." "then i command; for, thanks to you, mademoiselle, i am still a king." "it was captain pertinax," she said, looking up with a bright, happy glance at his words. "he consented to bring me hither, when i told him what my errand was. he followed your trail the day after you fled, but never opened his lips till i begged him for your sake. he is waiting above till i return." "he shall not wait long," said the king, not a little touched by his new follower's fidelity, and feeling there was much in the world he had never known before. but he said no more; for now they emerged from the bushes, and came suddenly upon a beggar-girl standing in the meadow, a homely figure in shabby rags, with fingers stained with berry juice, and hair matted and unkempt, and a wan, vacant face. what had happened? was this indeed the idol he had been gilding so long? was she so suddenly changed, or were his eyes dazzled by the vision on which he had been gazing too long? penelophon it was, indeed, and quite unchanged. mlle de tricotrin knew her at once; and, while kophetua stood stricken with a sickening sense of disillusionment, she went towards the wondering girl. on her finger was the king's signet ring, and héloise recognised it immediately. so, with the air of resigned humility that was so telling in that queen of women, she knelt upon the grass and loyally kissed the beggar-maid's hand. "i crave your majesty's pardon," she said, as she bent over the berry-stained fingers. kophetua could endure no more. "she is not my wife!" he cried hastily. "we are not married yet. rise, and reserve your homage till our wedding day." mlle de tricotrin rose as he spoke. their eyes met; the same thought flashed across them both, bringing a flush on the face of each. as it were in lines of fire, he saw the mistake he had made. he saw there was nothing about his idol but the mystic robes in which he had clothed it. it was his own dreaming he had been trying to love. bright and resistless as the morning héloise had burst upon him, and he knew the day from the night. bitter indeed was the awakening; for, come what would, he could never betray the woman to whom his troth was plighted. "here is your flower, penelophon," he said, and kissed her as he gave it. but the beggar-maid had no eyes but for her mistress, and she blushed like a guilty thing to see the look of anguish that came over the face she loved so well. then suddenly she sprang from kophetua's embrace, and, flinging herself at héloise's feet, she sobbed and sobbed again. it was long before penelophon's agitation could be calmed; but mlle de tricotrin coaxed away her tears at last, and then they sat beside the stream maturing their plan of action. long kophetua and héloise talked. she was full of expedients, and he hung on her lips while she eagerly poured out to him her schemes for saving the throne. and penelophon sat listening, but not to what their words were saying. forgotten and unnoticed, she sat gazing upon them with unspeakable sadness. their voices said things to her that were more than she could bear. they told her plainly that in the pursuit of her own happiness no lasting joy was to be found. how could she ever delight in her own poor ballad if it stood in the way of so full a poem being sung. and, as she listened to the harmony of the souls she loved, there came to her fragile face a weary smile, sadder than all her tears. still, unperceived, she quietly rose and wandered away across the meadow. from time to time she looked back to where they sat absorbed in each other. she marked héloise's animated talk, and she saw the noble look of resolution that illumined her hero's face. still smiling, as might some martyr as rude hands bound her to the stake, she wandered on, nor ever stopped, except where she could get a glimpse of the lessening figures beside the stream. at last she came to where the gendarme's horse was cropping the turf, and captain pertinax was snoring loudly on the sward. she looked at the handsome, soldierly figure for a while with a strange expression, and then awoke him. "rise, captain," she cried; "i bring you orders from the king." he was on his feet in a moment, rigidly saluting her. "to-morrow at dawn his majesty will set out for the capital to do the work you know of. to you he commits me. you saved me once, and it is to you he trusts me again. mount and away. for you are to go before and see me to a place of safety. see, here is your warrant," and with that she held out to him her hand, on which was the king's signet ring. "but how are we to travel?" said the captain uneasily, saluting the ring. "you must take me on the saddle before you," she answered, with a pretty smile, that redoubled the gendarme's uneasiness. "you do not mind that?" "mind it, mistress!" said he. "no, but----" "then, i pray you lose no time," she replied, "but this instant strap your cloak upon the saddle to make a seat for me." she went to him as she spoke, and laid her hand coaxingly on his arm. poor penelophon! she could be woman enough with this rough soldier, and she did not scruple to turn against him the honourable weapons with which her weakness was armed. where is the true woman who would not do the same, and do it well in a good cause? never in her life had penelophon so armed herself before. but the skill to wield the gentle weapons is born in every woman that is worth the name, and she knew her part as though she had practised it all her life, and she saw she was gaining ground by strides. men's fullest might may appear when they are struggling for themselves, but a woman is strongest for those she loves. she saw he could not hold out long, and grew more winsome every moment, as the bitter end for which she fought drew near. while captain pertinax was getting ready her seat, she prattled such gentle nothings, and helped him with such pretty confusion, that the big soldier was almost undone; and, as soon as they were on their way, an ominous silence fell upon them. penelophon was holding on by the captain's belt, and he, with a troubled air, sitting far back away from her, as though she were a noxious thing. presently she looked up at him shyly, as though she were about to say something. he was looking resolutely in front of him. still it could not be but that their eyes met. he quickly stared ahead again, and twisted his moustache fiercely. in a few minutes it happened again, and this time he desperately struck his spurs into the horse to relieve his feelings. the animal started forward, penelophon reeled in the saddle, and he had to put his arm about her to prevent her falling. "thank you," she said, looking up at him again with pretty diffidence; "i feel much safer now. there is no one takes care of me like you." then once more her prattle flowed; and, beating down the shame she felt as his arm closed more and more fondly about her, she stabbed him with tongue and eye and dimpled smiles till flesh and blood could endure no more. the pretty little form was now nestling close to him in frank confidence. once more he struggled to be loyal to his master's charge, and then he bent down and kissed the delicate face. she winced just a little--he could feel that--and the blood rushed to her face; and somehow he felt, in a moment, thoroughly ashamed of himself. "do you love me then so much?" she asked, looking up at him frankly once more. "'sblood! lass," he burst out, "could iron and stone help loving such a little flower? i love you more than my sword, and more than my horse--ay, and more than the king himself." "ah! then," she said, "i can give you all the king's orders. i did not like to before." he could feel her trembling in his embrace, and his voice was very gentle as he answered, "why, pretty one," he said, "what were they?" "he said," she answered, bravely meeting his passionate gaze, "that i should never be safe from my persecutors till i was some brave fellow's wife." "and he said that i was to be the man?" cried pertinax eagerly. "but i could not give you his order," she answered shyly. "heaven bless him! heaven bless you!" he said, with feeling, and kissed her again, and pressed her to him so fondly that she began to feel very peaceful and reconciled. she continued to beguile him with such pretty talk as she never could find for the king, and the big soldier was beside himself with love and tenderness. he begged her to tell him when she would marry him. once more he thought she shuddered in his embrace, but it might have been fancy; for directly afterwards she put her hand in his, and looked up at him tenderly as she answered. "when we reach the castle," she said. "there is no need to wait. the priest shall do it in the little chapel at the foot of the hills. it is better so; for then all will be safe, and we can wait till the king comes, and journey onward all in one company." vainly kophetua and héloise sought for penelophon when the time came to set out. not a trace of her could they find, and the titanic walls of the cañon flung back their cries unanswered. they looked one at the other guiltily, and made their search far apart and in different directions. at last the abbot told them he had seen her climbing the bridle-path that led out of the cañon. there was no time to lose. the journey could not be delayed. so the king lifted héloise on to his horse, and himself going on foot, led it up the ravine in pursuit. not a word he spoke, but looked resolutely onward, trying to catch a glimpse of the grey rags. nor did she seek to break the silence or attract his attention. she saw well his agitation at being thus alone with her, and she sat upon the horse with downcast eyes, as though she too were ashamed. she was resolved to do no treason to the girl she had wronged. the self-respect for which she longed told her it was best, and love told her that resignation was the only means to turn to her the heart for which she pined. in this way they reached the spot where pertinax had waited. he was gone too. again the king searched and shouted, and the echoes seemed to laugh and mock at him, as though they knew he did not hope to find, but only dreaded to begin the journey anew. but it could not be put off for long. time was flying, and if the throne were to be saved they must hasten on their way. he returned nervous and agitated to where the beauty lay, resting amongst the flowers in an attitude of enchanting grace. her loveliness was like a pain to him; but fate had fastened them together, and the ordeal to which he felt his manhood unequal must begin at last. "mademoiselle," said he abruptly, "it is useless to seek further. we must ride away fast in pursuit." their eyes met a moment. a flush overspread her face, and kophetua turned away, to throw himself fiercely into the saddle. no sooner was he mounted than she came to his side, with a little air of embarrassment. at his curt request she put her dainty foot on his, and he lifted her up in front of him on to penelophon's cushion. a glade of turf stretched away before them, and it was necessary to make the most of it before the difficult desert was reached, in order to recover the time they had lost. for one moment the king sat irresolute; in another he had desperately put his arm about the bewitching shape, drawn the soft burden to his breast, and with heart aflame, and head in a delirious whirl, was spurring on at a rapid pace between the rustling trees. so, like pertinax and penelophon, upon one horse, and with hearts that beat as one, kophetua and héloise came to the king's hunting-tower. the shades of night had closed the day that followed. the moonlight was glimmering in through the narrow windows of the chamber where mlle de tricotrin lay. not a sign of penelophon had been found, nor had captain pertinax returned. oppressed with the silence of the night in the lonely castle, héloise was haunted by a terrible idea. she began to be certain that her handmaid had destroyed herself. the awful stillness seemed to whisper "murderess" to her uneasy conscience, and an appalling sense of guilt tormented her. long she lay in fevered unrest; but at last, wearied with her arduous journey, and exhausted with the sweet excitement of the ride, she fell into a restless slumber. but still she tossed uneasily upon her couch. the arm of him she had tried to steal from her victim seemed still about her. the last passionate kiss, in which he had said "good night," still tingled on her lips. with a distinctness that terrified her, she felt his hand was once more pressing hers, and she started up wide awake. still the pressure was there. something was holding the hand which, in her restlessness, she had tossed outside the coverlet. with a low cry of terror she snatched it away; for there, crouching by her bedside in the ghostly moonlight, was the dim grey figure of her whose blood was on her head. in an agony she looked to find some brand upon her flesh where the spectre had touched it. she could see, in the white beams which fell upon it, there was none; but, with even greater terror, she knew her hand was wet with tears, and on it glistened the signet ring of the king. then into the midst of her terror broke a stifled sob, and the spell began to dissolve. "child," said héloise, in a hoarse whisper, "is it you?" no answer came, but another sob, and héloise stretched out her hand to touch what seemed her handmaid's tangled hair. slowly she moved it, with bated breath, in an agony lest she should feel nothing. but it was flesh and blood indeed, and penelophon seized the hand that touched her, and covered it with kisses. in a few broken words she told her tale, and héloise listened and blushed like a culprit who receives the reprimand of some august and stainless court. "but where have you been?" was all she could think of to say when the tale was done. "we hid in the town down there away from you," penelophon answered. "for after we were married he was afraid of the king's anger, and bid me let no one know till he had set trecenito on the throne again, and then he would be forgiven. but i could not wait. so at dusk i stole up to the castle, and lay in the outhouses till all was still; then i crept up here, where i heard them say you were lodged, for i could not bear to think you were mourning for trecenito; so i thought to come and put his ring on your finger that you might know he was yours and you were his at last. i would have done it secretly, and then departed; but you awoke, and i could not but tell you all, and hear your voice. for god knows," she continued, breaking down again, "i want comfort. he is kind and good, but it is a terrible thing i have done. i have given myself to buy the happiness of him we both love--you and i. it is done, and i would not have it undone; but, indeed, it is a terrible thing, and hard to bear when i am not near you or him." "stay, stay, penelophon!" cried mlle de tricotrin; "i cannot bear to hear you speak like this. you are a saint, an angel, and i am worse than the fiends. you shall always be near me, and make me like yourself. you shall never leave me again. come now to me; come and lie in my arms, and try to make me like yourself." as she spoke she clasped the slight grey figure to her breast, and soon the two loves of kophetua were sleeping peacefully in each other's arms. chapter xxv. the crown of kisses. "and when the wedding day was come, the king commanded strait." the events of the next few days need not be told at any great length. indeed, they belong more properly to the general history of oneiria than to the foregoing episode, and are certainly a little too tragic to be pleasant reading. the last day of kophetua's celibate reign began with a formidable riot. m. de tricotrin had put the second string to his bow. he was a true parisian, and for political purposes a mob held the next place in his esteem to a woman. "the two things resemble each other closely," he was fond of saying. "both are impulsive, fickle, and easily cajoled. any one who can manage the one can control the other." he regarded himself as in full enjoyment of this capacity, and on the desertion of his daughter he at once looked out for a mob to fill the gap she had left in his ranks. within the liberties of st. lazarus he found an organised rabble ready to his hand. in his character of intelligent foreigner he had already visited them several times under a safe conduct from the "emperor," and had at once recognised their capabilities as a revolutionary engine. at the present crisis he lost no time in renewing his previous acquaintances, and found that the jacobin seedlings which, like the laird of dumbiedykes, he was "aye stickin' in," as a matter of habit, wherever he went, had flourished exceedingly. they had been growing while he was sleeping. he found himself in the midst of a vigorous crop of rods for the chastisement of his rival and the cleansing of the precincts which he meant to be sacred to himself. furthermore, he found out penelophon's father, and through his agency was able to redouble the energy of his machinery by stirring up a _jehad_ against kophetua and turbo for their profanation of the liberties. the result of his diplomacy was that, on the morning upon which the convention parliament was to meet to vote the new constitution, the beggars poured like a flood from the liberties and took possession of the house. under the marquis's direction they speedily set about barricading every approach to it, and when that work was well in hand the frenchman gave the word to march upon the tower and the palace. on the way he was met by turbo at the head of the royal watch; but a vigorous volley of stones and a roaring rush of the beggars put those purely ornamental officials to flight, and it was with difficulty that turbo escaped to the palace. as it was, he received an ugly wound in the head from some rude missile; yet never for a moment did he lose his presence of mind, and with admirable coolness he set about the defence of his quarters, till the gendarmes, to whom at the first alarm a summons had been sent, should arrive. meanwhile the most determined assaults followed one upon the other from the beggars. showers of missiles crashed through the windows of the palace, and only ceased while ladders were set up for an attempted entry by the unprotected first floor. again and again they were hurled down, and again and again a hail of stones and potsherds drove turbo and his desperate followers from the windows. nothing seemed to daunt the fury of the beggars, or to abate for a moment the awful clamour of the assault. the rioters were long past the marquis's control; and when a number of the wildest were seen dragging straw and faggots to fire the building, he knew it was useless to thwart them; so he rushed into the thickest of the fray to inspire them to new efforts. a pile of inflammable materials soon rose against the palace; torches began to smoke on the outskirts of the howling mob, when suddenly a ringing cheer rose above all. the gendarmes were upon them. a roar from a hundred carbines drowned the yells of the maddened throng. the bullets tore through the swaying masses, and the bright blades of the cavalry glittered and grew red, as time after time they hurled themselves upon the mass, and wheeled and charged again. the beggars were helpless and terrified with the ping and thud of the bullets to which they were entirely unaccustomed. assaulted from two sides, they were crowded into helplessness. the marquis could do nothing. he was squeezed a hopeless prisoner against the faggots. the mob was leaderless, and now carbines began to flash and crack from the upper floors of the palace. window after window was occupied by protruding muzzles, and a rain of bullets fell on the devoted mass below. the slaughter was fearful. the panic-stricken throng screamed for quarter; but turbo looked on grimly with set lips, and would not utter a word to allay the carnage. thinner and more frantic grew the struggling herd, till, in a last despairing frenzy, they hurled themselves upon one detachment of the breathless cavalry, and, with fearful loss, burst through their ranks. a rush for the liberties followed, regardless of the sabres that charged through and through the flying groups. the townsfolk, who had remained secure at home while the danger lasted, now poured out to fall upon the helpless outcasts, and the slaughter never ceased till the last of the bleeding remnant was safe within the narrow tortuous streets behind the beggars' gate. turbo had triumphed. on a ghastly heap of dead and dying beggars lay the marquis de tricotrin, with a bullet through his head. the chancellor laughed to think what success after all he had reaped from his idea of concentrating the gendarmerie. he had lost his love, but he had gained a crown. after rapidly giving orders for blockading the beggars within the liberties, and furnishing guards for the house, he sat down to consider the speech he would deliver to secure his election as head of the state. but his brain ached and throbbed, his wound seemed on fire, and he could not think. he sent for a surgeon, who insisted on bleeding him, and told him it would be certain death for him to attend the sitting of parliament. he assured the chancellor that his wound had produced concussion of the brain, and that he could not answer for the consequences if he exposed himself to the excitement of the approaching debate. turbo knew the doctor was right, and felt only too acutely that he could not do justice to himself even if he attended the house. so he consented to remain at the palace and leave his cause in the hands of his lieutenants. in due course the convention met under the presidency of general dolabella. in spite of turbo's enforced absence, the kallists anticipated an easy victory, for the plain reason that there was no candidate but their own in the field. it was then to the surprise of everybody that count kora moved an amendment in favour of the queen-mother. a scene of the wildest confusion ensued. every one spoke at once, while the general exhausted himself in crying for order. before noon it was understood that seventeen challenges had been given, and three of them fought in the courtyard. the mid-day adjournment alone allayed the storm, and the kallikagathists took advantage of it to place a common-sense motion on the paper. common-sense was their rarest treasure. it was their political and social panacea. their faith in it was profound and, indeed, astonishing, as their specific was usually found to be compounded of the weakest elements of the other two parties' prescriptions. in the present crisis they did not belie their reputation. in dignified and well-restrained terms their motion recommended an address to the queen-mother and the chancellor, humbly requesting them to marry and rule the state as king and queen by the advice of the parliament. more furious than ever raged the storm as this cross-wind burst upon it; and, as from time to time news of the progress of the debate was brought to turbo at the palace, he began to dwell strangely on cromwell and his files of musketeers. but before he could make up his mind to take the violent course on which he was thinking, the door which led from the private garden staircase was suddenly burst open. turbo started to his feet. a wild throb of his heart sent the blood rushing to his reeling head, and, glaring like a madman, he stood transfixed, with the sight of kophetua and penelophon hand in hand. they, too, were no less astonished. early that morning, together with captain pertinax and mlle de tricotrin, they had secretly reached the old hunting lodge in the park. there the gendarme went out and gathered news of what was passing; on his return the kings resolve was soon taken. mlle de tricotrin was conducted to her own house that she might change her dress for the coming ceremony. pertinax was her escort, as it was considered necessary that the king should not run any risk of his presence being discovered till the last moment. kophetua, therefore, undertook to see penelophon to a place of safety. he could think of no better refuge than his own library, which he could reach by his private way. it was no wonder then that both were thunderstruck at the sight which met their eyes as they emerged from the dark stairway. the splendid room was literally wrecked. every fragile thing in it was smashed to pieces. the floor was scattered with stones and potsherds. a heavy missile had struck the old knight's trophy, and his arms lay in a heap on the ground. the picture of the king and the beggar-maid was torn and riddled past recognition. but most shocking of all was the glaring, ghastly hideousness of turbo in the midst. his face was pale as death, and rendered horrible beyond expression by the bloodstained cloth that concealed his forehead. it was not long that they stared at each other thus. turbo's face began to work malignly, and at last he burst out into a demoniac scream, as he saw the sweet fruit of his lifelong scheming about to be snatched from his teeth. "ah!" he cried, with terrible oaths, "you have her still--my own little love that you stole! you think you will steal the crown from me as well. with my own little love, whom you stole, you will steal it. ha! ha! you think that? but i will tear my little love in shreds first. i will tear her, i will rend her, since my love can do no more. you think you have found a pretty head to wear the 'crown of kisses.' i tell you the people's kiss shall fall on a face that is dead, and you shall have a corpse for a queen!" with another scream he rushed upon penelophon, who stood rooted to the spot with terror. but in the midst of turbo's frenzied outburst kophetua had snatched up the old knight's rapier which lay at his feet, and as the mad chancellor sprang upon his prey he fell back with an agonised scream. the long glittering blade had pierced him through and through, and he rolled over amongst the stones and potsherds, dead. the tragedy stirred into a godlike flow all the heroism of kophetua. with the reeking rapier in his hand he felt he could face the whole world; and, striding from the polluted chamber, still holding penelophon by the hand, he descended the great staircase to meet the guard who were timorously approaching to ascertain the meaning of the unearthly sounds in the library. the authority of kophetua's presence was irresistible. in a very short time penelophon was safe with a guard of the palace watch; and the king, mounted on a fresh horse, and followed by a troop of gendarmes, was on the way to the marquis's house. mlle de tricotrin's toilette was complete when the king arrived, and she tripped down to him entirely concealed under a splendid mantilla of white lace. a led horse was ready for her. the king lifted her upon it. the cavalcade once more started, and, after threading its way through the corpses and groaning heaps of the wounded beggars, that sometimes almost blocked the way, they reached the courtyard of the house. two prominent members were fencing furiously before the portico, and it seemed clear the kings approach was unsuspected. one officious chamberlain had hurried off unbidden to announce it; but so wild was the confusion and excitement within that he could get no one to listen to him. no wonder then that the whole throng was struck dumb and the uproar hushed as in a voice of thunder the king was heard demanding in constitutional form admission to the house. without waiting for an answer he pushed his way through the astonished crowd that covered the floor. in his right hand he still held the old knight's rapier, red with turbo's blood; in the other he led the veiled white figure of the woman who accompanied him. awed by the mystery and majesty of the king's entrance, the members all fell back, and kophetua and his companion ascended the dais, where dolabella rose to receive them. for a little while the king stood, sword in hand, proudly surveying the murmuring throng beneath him, and waiting for complete silence. but the murmurs only increased. a whisper was spreading from member to member that the king had arrived at the palace with a ragged beggar-girl, and meant to insult the nation and deride the constitution by making her his queen at the last moment. some of the members in the back rows began crying, "long live the republic!" and others who were nearer called out, "privilege! privilege!" at last some one dared to shout, "down with the beggar king and his light-o'-love." then a new fire flashed from kophetua's eyes, and, swinging aloft his bloodstained rapier, with a commanding gesture he thundered out, "silence for your king!" in a moment the assembly was hushed, as though the wings of death had passed over it, and the impassioned voice of the angered monarch rose solemnly out of the silence. "traitors!" he cried. "behold the blood of a traitor. the sword of the old knight has this hour made new its youth with the blood of your leader, and i am strong in its strength. beware how you teach it to thirst again; for if it cries to me for traitors' blood, by the splendour of god i will give it drink! but what is the need? to you, as to me, our ancient laws are sacred. by them i am still your king, and in devout subjection to them i bring you a queen to crown. behold her!" so saying, he swept the white veil from the figure at his side, and a strange low murmur passed over the throng, as though some witchcraft had struck them dumb. however the more violent members had been tempted to resent the kings threatening speech, the vision which was suddenly flashed upon them paralysed every other thought. mlle de tricotrin's education had not been such as to make her under-estimate the importance of the part she had to play at the supreme moment. it has been said it was the custom of the country for the would-be queen to be presented to the house armed with every device that could enhance her charms. mlle de tricotrin knew the custom well, and took advantage of the opportunity the king had afforded her of doing justice to his forethought. kophetua had had every confidence in the personal impression she would make; but even he started and held his breath to look on the figure he had just unveiled. for a moment he was shocked that his wife should so have made herself an eye-feast for the gaping throng, but his pain gave place immediately to pleasure to see how her beauty triumphed. indeed, it was dazzling beyond expression. everything about her voluptuous costumes to which the prudes had objected before was this day boldly exaggerated. the family diamonds, to which through all his troubles the marquis had clung, shone upon her white arms and breast, and flashed out from her luxuriant hair. the soft thin robe that wrapped her seemed meant to display rather than to hide. as she raised her beautiful eyes, that they might see her loveliness to the full, a burning flush overspread her face, and seemed to redouble her beauty. it was more than the strength and boldness to which she had trusted could endure. a sudden shame to think how she stood there alone, exposed before that throng of men, overwhelmed her. too late she learned how kophetua's love had changed her. the devouring eyes of the ravished throng were piercing her like knives. she began to tremble violently, and kophetua seized her hand. "kneel," he whispered, "and be brave a little while longer." a renewed murmur of admiration arose, as with matchless grace she knelt on the cushion which kophetua had pushed to her feet. the new pose, and the accomplished sweep she gave her drapery as she assumed it, inflamed the assembly anew. a confused murmur arose; and in the midst general dolabella, unable any longer to control himself, sprang from his chair, clasped the kneeling beauty in his arms, and kissed her heartily on the lips. "rise!" he cried, beside himself with excitement at the prospect of an end to his political anxieties, and the intoxication of the salute. "rise, my dear young lady, crowned with a people's kiss!" she sprang from his embrace to her lover's arms, and, hiding her face on his breast, burst into tears. in a moment he had veiled his treasure again from further profanation, and even as he did so the assembly found voice. the oneirians, it has been said, were an imaginative people, and the scene they had just witnessed took them by storm. with one accord they shouted, "long live kophetua and his queen of kisses!" nor did they cease till every man of them had filed by to claim his privilege of saluting the new queen's hand. the ceremony was long, but héloise endured it well. for, with kophetua's arm about her, she soon recovered her courage; and, unveiling her blushing face, she looked so radiant with happiness, and smiled with such ravishing sweetness on each member as he came, that there was not one who would not there and then have died for her sake. in a triumph of loyal enthusiasm, the king and queen-elect rode back to the palace, and there were married in the chapel. the ceremony was necessarily a quiet one. it was attended only by the great officers of state and the personal adherents of the bride and bridegroom. pertinax was there in his new capacity of gentleman of the king's bedchamber, and penelophon radiant and happy to think she was chief bower-lady to the queen. after the ceremony, when pertinax attended the king to his privy chamber, he announced that he had a report to make. he had taken the liberty, he said, while the king was at the house, of leading his own troop of gendarmes into the precincts of st. lazarus, to complete the work for which he had been originally summoned. "i discovered the beggar emperor," he said, "on his throne in the guildhall, and hanged him in front of it. i trust your majesty will forgive me. he behaved disgracefully to my wife." kophetua winced; he felt he had deserved hanging on the same charge, but consoled himself to think how devoted a substitute penelophon had found, and smilingly commended his favourite's zeal. captain pertinax had not reported the whole of his proceedings; for when penelophon entered her mistress's boudoir, to which héloise had been conducted in state, the queen noticed she wore a strange ornament of gold upon her head, and asked her what it was. "it is the beggar emperor's crown," she said, looking down and blushing. "but where did you get it from?" asked the queen. "my pertinax took it and gave it me," answered penelophon; and then with a shy smile went on, "he said if trecenito's wife were a queen, his bride was worthy to be an empress. so he crowned me with the emperor's crown; and--and he crowned me with kisses too." "then you love him," cried the queen, looking up fondly at her handmaid. "he is very kind," said penelophon; "but while you are here for me to love i think i can never love another." then héloise felt a guilty pang like the king, and resolved to deserve the measureless love of the two hearts she had won. printed by t. and a. constable, printers to her majesty, _at the edinburgh university press_. advertisements _by the same author._ the fall of asgard, a story of st. olaf's day. two vols. globe vo. s. some opinions of the press. the _athenæum_ says:--'mr. corbett's story deserves the welcome that is due to a successful excursion into a comparatively untrodden region--that of mediæval norse history.... there is no lack of stirring episode, heroic fighting and feasting, vivid pictures of norwegian scenery and pagan ceremonial.... what we chiefly like about the book is its wholesome freshness.' the _guardian_ says:--'the description of earl swend's eluding olaf's fleet, and again that of the sacking of nidaros and the sea-fight of nessi are wonderfully exciting, and the conclusion shows great tragic power. it is altogether a remarkable book.' the _academy_ says:--'it is, indeed, a genuine tale of the north, stirring and yet tender, and while the interest never flags, there are many passages of great beauty and power.... but this in no way detracts from the great merit of the story, which is that while it is instinct throughout with the spirit of true poetry, it affords most delightful glimpses of the everyday life and domestic affairs of the very men who once spread terror and devastation along all the coasts of europe, and who yet introduced christianity and peace in the north, and wrought for all time the downfall of the aesir and of asgard.' for god and gold. crown vo. _macmillan's colonial library._ the _times_ says:--'the story treats with considerable freshness the familiar story of elizabethan enterprise and adventure on the spanish main and in southern america.' the _athenæum_ says:--'no one could have written such a book as "for god and gold" without saturating himself in the literature of the spacious times therein depicted.... he has produced a fresh and vivid romance, in which the conflicting tendencies of the early elizabethan epoch--euphuistic, ascetic, and adventurous--are happily and often divertingly contrasted.' macmillan's colonial library. the following volumes are now ready, and may be obtained through any bookseller in india or the british colonies. they are issued both in paper covers and in cloth:-- + . barker.--station life in new zealand.+ by lady barker. + . barker.--a year's house-keeping in south africa.+ by the same. + . black.--a princess of thule.+ by william black. + . conway.--a family affair.+ by hugh conway. + . crawford.--mr. isaacs: a tale of modern india.+ by f. m. crawford. + . crawford.--dr. claudius: a true story.+ by f. marion crawford. + . crawford.--a roman singer.+ by f. marion crawford. + . crawford.--a tale of a lonely parish.+ by f. marion crawford. + . emerson.--the conduct of life.+ by ralph waldo emerson. + . farrar.--seekers after god.+ by archdeacon farrar, d.d. + . forbes.--souvenirs of some continents.+ by archibald forbes, ll.d. + . hamerton.--human intercourse.+ by p. g. hamerton. + . keary.--oldbury.+ by annie keary. + . james.--tales of three cities.+ by henry james. + . mitford.--tales of old japan.+ by a. b. mitford. + . oliphant.--a country gentleman.+ by mrs. oliphant. + , , . oliphant.--the literary history of england in the end of the th and beginning of the th century.+ by mrs. oliphant. vols. + . st. johnston.--camping among cannibals.+ by alfred st. johnston. + . murray.--aunt rachel.+ by d. christie murray. + . yonge--chantry house.+ by charlotte m. yonge. + . harrison.--the choice of books, etc.+ by frederic harrison. + . the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.'--miss tommy: a mediæval romance.+ by the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.' + . malet.--mrs. lorimer: a sketch in black and white.+ by lucas malet. + . conway.--living or dead.+ by hugh conway. + . oliphant.--effie ogilvie.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . harrison.--a northern lily.+ by joanna harrison. + . norris.--my friend jim.+ by w. e. norris. + . lawless.--hurrish: a study.+ by the hon. emily lawless. + . the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.'--king arthur: not a love story.+ by the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.' + . hardy.--the mayor of casterbridge.+ by thomas hardy. + . graham.--neæra: a tale of ancient rome.+ by john w. graham. + . madoc.--margaret jermine.+ by fayr madoc. + . yonge.--a modern telemachus.+ by charlotte m. yonge. + . shorthouse.--sir percival.+ by j. henry shorthouse. + . oliphant.--a house divided against itself.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.'--about money, and other things.+ by the author of 'john halifax, gentleman.' + . black.--the strange adventures of a phaeton.+ by william black. + . arnold.--essays in criticism.+ by matthew arnold. + . hughes.--tom brown's schooldays.+ by an old boy. + . yonge.--the dove in the eagles nest.+ by charlotte m. yonge. + . oliphant.--a beleaguered city.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . morley.--critical miscellanies.+ by john morley. + . bret harte.--a millionaire of rough-and-ready, etc.+ by bret harte. + . crawford.--saracinesca.+ by f. marion crawford. + . veley.--a garden of memories: and other stories.+ by margaret veley. + . black.--sabina zembra.+ by william black. + . hardy.--the woodlanders.+ by thomas hardy. + . dillwyn.--jill.+ by e. a. dillwyn. + . dillwyn.--jill and jack.+ by e. a. dillwyn. + . westbury.--frederick hazzleden.+ by hugh westbury. + , . the new antigone: a romance.+ vols. + . bret harte.--the crusade of the 'excelsior.'+ by bret harte. + . cunningham.--the coeruleans: a vacation idyll.+ by h. s. cunningham. + , . author of 'hogan, m.p.'--ismay's children.+ by author of 'hogan, m.p.' vols. + . crawford.--zoroaster.+ by f. marion crawford. + . noel.--hithersea mere.+ by lady augusta noel. + , . author of 'estelle russell.'--harmonia.+ by author of 'estelle russell.' vols. + . oliphant.--the second son.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . crawford.--marzio's crucifix.+ by f. marion crawford. + . crawford.--paul patoff.+ by f. marion crawford. + . martineau.--biographical sketches.+ by harriet martineau. + . author of 'friends in council.'--realmah.+ by author of 'friends in council.' + . lafargue.--the new judgment of paris: a novel.+ by philip lafargue. + . shorthouse.--a teacher of the violin, and other tales.+ by j. h. shorthouse. + . norris.--chris.+ by w. e norris. + . oliphant.--joyce.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . bret harte.--the argonauts of north liberty.+ by bret harte. + . corbett.--for god and gold.+ by julian corbett. + . hardy.--wessex tales.+ by thomas hardy. + . fothergill.--the lasses of leverhouse: a story.+ by jessie fothergill. + . crawford.--with the immortals.+ by f. marion crawford. + . ward.--robert elemere.+ by mrs. humphry ward. + . fraternity: a romance.+ + . bret harte.--cressy.+ by bret harte. + . minto--the mediation of ralph hardelot.+ by william minto. + . murray.--the weaker vessel.+ by d. christie murray. + . shorthouse.--the countess eve.+ by j. h. shorthouse. + . yonge.--beechcroft at rockstone.+ by charlotte m. yonge. + . ward.--miss bretherton.+ by mrs. humphry ward, author of 'robert elsmere.' + . corbett.--kophetua the thirteenth.+ by julian corbett. + . amiel.--the journal intime of h. f. amiel.+ translated by mrs. humphry ward. + . levy.--reuben sachs.+ by amy levy. + . arnold.--essays in criticism.+ second series. by matthew arnold. + . crawford.--greifenstein.+ by f. marion crawford. + . oliphant.--neighbours on the green.+ by mrs. oliphant. + . murray--schwartz.+ by d. christie murray. + . hamerton.--french and english: a comparison.+ by philip gilbert hamerton. *** _other volumes to follow._ * * * * * macmillan and co., london, and all bookstores. the red chancellor by sir william magnay, bart. author of "the man of the hour," "rogues in arcady," "the pitfall," etc. ward, lock & co., limited london, melbourne and toronto [illustration: "you may be my friend in this place where i have no friends." (chapter xviii.) _the red chancellor_] [_frontispiece_ contents chap. page i duke johann's chapel ii the face in the light iii the jaguar iv the king and the chancellor v the deserted ball-room vi the capsized boat vii supper at the baroness's viii the beating of death's wings ix the duel x an asylum xi a court physician xii a mysterious occurrence xiii the stone sarcophagus xiv the professor is maimed xv a lesson in geology xvi a blow is struck xvii the jaguar's den xviii a word of warning xix the fan xx the living dead xxi a wastrel xxii the light in the wood xxiii what we saw at carlzig xxiv the midnight burial xxv von lindheim's departure xxvi i shoot with the count xxvii the dish of sweetmeats xxviii the prior's room xxix the count's hospitality xxx a discovery xxxi the dark way xxxii asta at last xxxiii an ominous visit xxxiv we outstrip our fortune xxxv the attack xxxvi restoration xxxvii the last meeting the red chancellor chapter i duke johann's chapel "von orsova is playing a dangerous game." "he takes the risk." "of what?" it was i who asked the question, curious to hear what penalty attached to the handsome rittmeister's temerity. the three men gave glances at each other, as though inquiring which of them could answer. my friend von lindheim broke the pause, replying with a shrug-- "he is a captain of cavalry, master of the horse; a gentleman, noble, no doubt, by birth, but a simple, if magnificent, rittmeister. the lady"--he glanced round towards the dark shadows of the trees, gave another shrug of caution and lowered his voice,--"is what we all know. to couple their names is high treason; and, _a fortiori_, it is treason in a higher degree for the bursche to aspire." "we have not forgotten," another said, "the case of poor steiner." i saw they were not inclined to run risks by discussing state secrets under the very walls of the palace, so postponed the gratification of my curiosity until i should get von lindheim alone in my rooms or his house. we four had slipped out into the gardens, to snatch ten minutes for a cigarette from the rather dreary formality of a state ball at the palace of buyda. my three companions were guests in their official capacities, being attached to the bureau of the world-known chancellor rallenstein; i, jasper tyrrell, a mere traveller, through the friendly offices of von lindheim, to whom i had an introduction. i had gone abroad in a restless, roving frame of mind, ready for any adventure, and heartily sick of the monotony of inaction, forced inaction, very slightly relieved by the problematical fun of entertaining big shooting parties at my place in norfolk. that seemed all i had to look forward to in the year, and the more i thought of my autumn programme the more restless and discontented had i grown. even the temporary diversion of marriage, strenuously commended to me by certain not altogether disinterested friends, had failed to take hold on my fancy; amusements of that sort can be arranged at any time and at comparatively short notice. so one night at dinner, during which several friends and relations were good enough to map out a very pretty six months' programme for me--and themselves--my resolution was taken, and before i had got into bed that night my kit for an extended solitary ramble was packed. next day i made a bolt of it, leaving to an astute aunt full authority, by letter, to carry on sharnston in my absence, and after a month's desultory progress found myself at buyda. a generation ago there were, as every student of european diplomacy knows, some very curious political intrigues (we know more about them now) in several of the courts of europe. more or less secret acts of aggressive statesmanship were perpetrated which, had they not been diplomatically covered up or explained away, would have seemed to set the forces of civilization to right-about-face. but the press, like speech, often serves, in some countries at any rate, to withhold rather than to give out information, while special correspondents are mostly acclimatized and often merely human. still, there was somewhere, in east central europe for choice, a chance of seeing something of life a little more adventurous than the cricket field or the covert at home had to offer, and with young blood in one's veins, a perfect digestion, a muscular system second to none at angelo's, the idea of a possible running into adventures is not displeasing. the dull smoothness and security of a well-policed community is monotonous to a man of spirit. such were the vague anticipations with which i set forth, but my imagination certainly never suggested such a series of adventures as that which i was to pass through before i got back. i had purposely left my destination uncertain, even to my own mind. in the true spirit of adventure i would be bound by no fixed route, but let my fancy and the circumstances of the moment carry me whither they would. only one indication of any sort of purpose did i take with me. that was a letter of introduction from an f. o. friend to an old school-fellow of his, gustav von lindheim, a rich young fellow who had been educated in england, and who now held a post in the chancellory of his native state. it was in that corner of europe that something of an adventure seemed most likely to be had, and it was there, to pass over my earlier wanderings, that i eventually found myself. through the half-open windows of the great ball-room came "amorettentänze," thundered out with military swing and insistence by the resplendent court band. in company with my three acquaintances i had strolled away from the illuminated portion of the gardens, and we were now pacing a dark and comparatively secluded walk. encouraged perhaps by the lessened probability of eavesdropping (for methods under rallenstein, the dread chancellor's rule, were mediæval, more or less), one of my companions remarked: "our princess looks bewitchingly pretty to-night. the bold rittmeister has indeed an excuse." "and she also," von lindheim replied. "the fellow is the most splendid clothes-peg and wig-block combined that i know. he is magnificent, the sort of magnificence that does not live to see its grandchildren." "he is a fool," one of the others said, "to snap his fingers so close to the jaguar's snout." "orsova is a fool, my dear szalay," von lindheim assented, "as i have just hinted." "and the jaguar is couched and ready to spring at the right moment." "our dear chief does not make a mistake or let another man make it against his policy." "or woman." "ah! he has a plan, and the herr rittmeister von orsova forms no part of it." "no use for him. prince theodor----" i began incautiously, when i was stopped by a subdued chorus of "hush!" "secrets of state, my dear fellow," von lindheim said, laughing, but with a warning gesture. "you will get us into trouble. you englishmen, with your excess of freedom, can't realize how circumspect we have to be. you have no jaguar ever ready for the spring. you don't know our famous red chancellor--even by reputation." strolling and talking thus, we had passed through the gardens and struck into a path, skirting a little wood beyond the pleasaunce of the royal grounds. my companions stopped and turned. "i'll just finish my cigar and follow you," i said. the emperadore was too good to throw away for the sake of hurrying back to an entertainment of which, to tell the truth, the petty splendour rather bored me. nevertheless, we all turned back together. suddenly szalay halted, and pointed into the wood. "what is that?" we all looked. a light was glimmering from the depth of the blackness; a light suggested rather than seen. "that is duke johann's old chapel there, now used as a summer-house," von lindheim said. "yes; but what can any one be doing there at this time of night." "we ought to investigate," the third man, d'urban, said with official zeal. "come, then. we can get round this way again to the terrace, and perhaps----" they had plunged into the wood, making for the light. i followed them a step or two, then stopped and regained the path, not seeing how the question of the irregular illumination could interest me. enjoying my cigar i strolled on. the night was pleasant enough. a slight warm breeze drove the clouds slowly across a gibbous moon, giving a pretty play of light and shade. so i sauntered on in a frame of mind attuned to my present surroundings. i had become so far acclimatized as to take an interest in the court intrigues which flourished in the air of that chancellor-ruled kingdom. i had an idea of seeking a temporary commission in the state cavalry, that dazzling regiment with its picture-book cattle and its theatrical accoutrements. i was only awaiting to see whether there was any grit inside all that fur and brass and steel and bullion, not caring to ear-mark myself with a regiment of costumiers' dummies. this doubt made me take a peculiar interest in that magnificent spectacular warrior, the rittmeister von orsova. granted he was a fool, he might be a plucky fool. that the pretty princess casilde (and she was lovely) was in love with him, or something near it, was common gossip in the inner circle of court officialdom. but the despotic chancellor held other views and plans. having made himself the foremost man in the state (for the king, with all his parade of authority, was notoriously under his thumb), he now nursed the one idea of the state's aggrandizement as the only way left of increasing his own power. and it was evident that that aggrandizement could best be attained by allying his master's house with the richer and more important state of which prince theodor was heir-apparent. hence the projected marriage between that prince and the princess casilde. such was the state of affairs when i found myself in buyda. chapter ii the face in the light after a while i turned in my walk. it was time to get back to the ball-room if i would not appear to slight the honour shown me in the invitation. i had rather lost my bearings in the wooded walk, and in returning had the choice of three paths without knowing which one to take. i chose that which seemed to lead directly towards the distant music, and walked on quickly. it soon appeared that it was not the path i had come by. it led me much deeper into the wood than i had been before; still, the music seemed to grow nearer, and i flattered myself it might be a short cut. hurrying on, i suddenly came upon a clearing in the wood. in the middle of this stood a small building--duke johann's chapel, of which my companions had spoken. a quaint little edifice built, so far as the fitful light showed me, in a highly ornate style of moorish architecture. it was still lighted up dimly; a ray fell across the path at some little distance in front of me, evidently from one of the side windows. neither the place, although it was romantic enough, nor the light particularly interested me. but as i went round towards the opposite side of the clearing, i was arrested by a curious sight. the stream of light which i have spoken of became suddenly interrupted, then diffused and broken up, then it swept from side to side. i stopped and watched it for a few seconds, then my eye followed the movement to its cause. just outside the window, half blocking the light and dispersing it, was a man's head. the body i could not see, as it was naturally in the deep shadow. but the face! it was peering into the chapel eagerly, its expression, illuminated into strong relief by the light which streamed upon it from the little window, was one i can hardly describe, but shall never forget. perhaps i can best give an idea of it by likening it to the look of hungry ferocious expectation in the eyes of a tiger which has got to within striking distance of its quarry. the sight was so extraordinary that i must have stood for several seconds hardly drawing my breath, and looking at it half fascinated. then something told me it would be better to walk on, taking no further notice. after all, i had a perfect right as a guest to be in the wood, and----. in the dark shadow of a buttress near the window there was a quick movement, but quite independent of the peering man. next instant a form crossed the band of light; another man had come out of the darkness and accosted me. his first words were rough and brusque. "what are you doing here?" then, noticing his mistake, and concluding probably by my appearance that i was a gentleman, and one of the royal guests, he abruptly changed his tone and manner. "pardon! you are waiting here for some one, mein herr, or wish to return to the palace?" "i was taking the liberty of smoking a cigar," i answered, as politely as i felt inclined. "here? in the wood?" the question was put sharply, with a certain stern incredulity and insistence strangely at variance with the man's look. i scarcely knew whether to resent or laugh at it. "not till this minute," i replied, deeming it easiest to be straightforward in that land of ceremonies and red tape. "i have been smoking outside the wood, and took this path back to the palace. why? is it forbidden?" the man gave a shrug, but never relaxed his fixed gaze on my face. "under certain circumstances. you have not been to this spot till this moment, you say?" "no." "you were not here just now; three, four minutes ago?" "i am not used to have my word doubted, sir," i returned, getting a little out of patience. "pardon." he changed his tone again, reverting to its first bluffness. "you are english. i may ask your name?" i told him, adding, "i presume you have a right to ask it?" "pardon," he said again, but his manner was still offensive. "you have been here alone?" "no. i have been smoking with three friends who hold official positions here. they have gone in." "pardon, sir,"--he spoke in english now--"we are obliged to be circumspect here; you in england may not comprehend our necessity. excuse me if i ask a few questions, in no spirit of idle curiosity, i assure you." i nodded and waited. "those gentlemen, your friends they left you here in the wood?" "on the path outside it." "you have not been in this wood before now to-night?" "no." "you have seen your friends since you parted from them down there?" "no." "no? why did you walk this way?" "really, sir," i answered, getting somewhat exasperated, "i don't know why i should submit to this cross-examination." he laughed, showing a set of cruel teeth. "because you are an englishman it is incomprehensible. may one inquire without offence your object in walking this way when the path to the palace is outside the wood?" "if you must know, i took this path by mistake. i trust i have not transgressed any rule of your court etiquette----" "oh, no, no, no," he broke in. "you say you did not speak with your friends again?" "no. is there any offence in that?" i put the question in a bantering tone, and was rather surprised that he took it seriously. "that i cannot tell. all depends on the subject of conversation. let me see, herren szalay, von lindheim, and d'urban; not so?" "yes. is there anything more you wish to know?" "at present, nothing. i thank you. let me offer you my apologies and a piece of advice." "yes?" "be careful of your words. you are not in england here. our master, the herr chancellor, has no--patience with chatterers. good-night. that is your way." chapter iii the jaguar in all an englishman's wonder and impatience at so intolerable a system of surveillance, i made my way back to the palace. the dance was in full swing again. in the crowd i could not for the moment see any one of my three friends. the king was on a daïs chatting in animated fashion to a group standing round him. his daughter, the princess casilde, presently came out of the throng of dancers, and sat beside him, joining laughingly in the conversation. i saw the great cavalry swell, the master of the horse, von orsova, waltzing with a plain-looking girl, and was just wondering what sort of a soldier's heart beat beneath that glorious tunic, when von lindheim came up. "lindheim," i said, "a queer thing happened after you fellows left me just now." "what do you mean?" he asked, looking grave, though he tried to smile. "i was passing through the wood by the chapel when a fellow accosted me, and----" he stopped me. "hush, for heaven's sake. here! come in here and tell me. how do you like the new decoration?" he went on in a louder tone, with a wave of the hand towards the ceiling and walls; "this is only the second time the saal has been used since the scaffolding came down. it was closed all the spring." his extraordinary change of tone and subject led me for a moment to wonder whether he had not been paying too assiduous court to the royal champagne: then i concluded that it was a blind. talking on commonplace subjects, we sauntered across the adjoining music-saal, thence to a deserted room, one of the great suite of state apartments. "now," he said, lowering his voice and speaking anxiously, "tell me what happened." i told him. his face grew graver and whiter every moment. "what does it mean?" i said. "is it officialism gone mad?" "worse than that," he replied. "i cannot tell you. only for your life, for the lives of all of us, don't breathe a word of it--not even to yourself." i looked at him inquisitively, and indeed my curiosity was greater than my concern. "is there any danger," i asked, "in my inquiring the name of the fellow who honoured me with the cross-examination?" "do for heaven's sake dismiss the whole affair," von lindheim answered impatiently. "don't think we have done anything wrong," he added quickly; "it is less and yet worse than that. our only chance is that we were not recognized." they had been, of course, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say so, but i checked myself, thinking i would not add to his uneasiness, unreasonable as it seemed. there i made a great mistake, as the story will show. "we had better get back to the ball-room," my friend said nervously. "do you know there are said to be twenty thousand separate pieces in that great chandelier? it is one of the most elaborate specimens of glass work in the world." my inspection of this interesting piece of work was cut short by von lindheim's directing my attention, in an equally abrupt manner, to a specimen of nature's handicraft far more engaging. "here," he said, "let me introduce you to fräulein asta von winterstein. she is one of the maids of honour, and the most charming girl in buyda." the fräulein's looks decidedly confirmed his words; a merry-looking girl, with a lovely face, and that air of youth and spirits which is so eloquent of the _joie de vivre_. "you are fortunate in getting a dance with fräulein von winterstein," lindheim said. "i am only just off duty," she laughed, "and my card is a blank." i was beginning a complimentary remark when my friend said, "excuse my depriving you of five seconds of the fräulein's society, my dear tyrrell, but i have a message to give her." they drew aside and i waited. happening to glance at them i noticed that a cloud had come over the girl's face; both looked grave as they spoke in an undertone, then the girl's natural animation returned, and with a few laughing words to von lindheim, she left him and came to me. a swinging waltz was being played and we took several turns. when we stopped i remarked: "our friend, von lindheim, seems worried about something, i'm afraid he takes officialism too seriously." "an englishman cannot understand the peculiarities of our life here." i was rather tired of being told that, albeit rather glad of my ignorance. still, i did not mind the adage from this girl; she was breezy and sensible, and determined not to be too insular with respect to buyda officialism. "don't you admire the princess?" my partner asked. "she is very pretty." "every one thinks her lovely." "she is not the only belle in the room." "hush!--luckily; for she is out of reach." "naturally. herr rittmeister von orsova is a fine specimen of a man." "you are the genius of indiscretion. a splendid fellow." "i hope he is all through alike, and that the grit and pluck correspond to the spectacular part of the show." "why should you doubt it?" "i don't for a moment. only nature does sometimes send out inferior goods in smart cases." "he is as brave as he is handsome." "good! oh, by----!" "what is the matter?" i had stopped in the waltz, with the result that the next couple cannoned against us severely. the reason of my sudden pull-up was something which in the whirl had passed my eye. bending over the daïs in close conversation with the king was a man whom i had not observed there before. and that man's was the face i had seen peering into the chapel window. the expression was altered now, but the face was the same, one never to be mistaken or forgotten, a face curiously striking in its suggestion of immense power and indomitable will, yet ugly almost to repulsiveness. "who is that?" i asked eagerly. "that man talking to the king?" the girl looked at me curiously. "surely you know him, at least by sight. no? why, that is our great chancellor, graf von rallenstein." chapter iv the king and the chancellor i began to understand von lindheim's disquietude; all the same, although the chancellor's system of espionage was pretty notorious, i did not quite see what my friend had to be so afraid of. true, i was an englishman, and we know the aphorism; then he, too, was half english and a rugby boy. still, i suppose he counted as a native under the heel of the man known throughout europe as the red chancellor, the man who never stood any nonsense. "that von rallenstein?" "and you really never saw him before?" "never before to-night; not even his photograph." "that is not extraordinary," she replied in a low voice. "he has never allowed himself to be photographed." i began to speculate how this great statesman came to be in that undignified position outside the chapel window, and to marvel at the customs of the land in which i found myself. then i recollected that my partner expected me to dance, not muse, and we whirled on. the waltz came to an end. as we stopped i felt myself touched on the shoulder. a man, evidently one of the officers of the household, was at my side. he addressed me by name. "his majesty desires to make your better acquaintance when the honoured fräulein can spare you, sir." it was of course a command, so i took my partner to a seat and made for the daïs. the king and the chancellor were still chatting confidentially as i approached. the former received me very graciously, and presented me to von rallenstein, who shook hands in a manner which was almost british. the conversation at once glided into a perfectly easy groove; the king was very affable, and courteously interested himself in my movements, asked me how i liked the country and city, how long i thought of staying, what part of england i lived in, was pleased to hear i had come over for sport; asked me several questions on horse-breeding, and said, as the subject was one in which he took peculiar interest, he should esteem it a great advantage to have the benefit of my advice and experience, and would go more fully into it at an early opportunity. all this was very pleasant; von rallenstein chimed in now and again with a pertinent remark or leading suggestion; he seemed agreeable enough, and i began to think von lindheim's bugbear was principally of his own making. of course any one could see that the chancellor was a strong man and a masterful, but, after all, he had a peculiar country to govern, and those were the qualities necessary to that end. had i never seen that cruel, almost fiendish face at the window, i should have thought its owner a very good fellow--for his place. in this world of weaklings one does not admire a man less for his grit and power. presently the talk halted; and i understood from the king's manner that the interview was to close. he dismissed me very graciously, hoping i should enjoy myself both that evening and during the whole of my stay in his country. von rallenstein added a word or two, and i bowed myself off. "how did you find the king, and, more particularly, the chancellor?" fräulein von winterstein inquired when i rejoined her. "not very alarming. but then i am--an--'outsider.'" a gorgeous being came up whose twinkling eyes were in ludicrous contrast to his fiercely brushed-up moustache. "ah, here is herr oberkammerer eilhardt," exclaimed the girl, introducing us. "herr oberkammerer, our friend mr. tyrrell wishes to be acquainted with herr rittmeister von orsova, whom i know to be a great friend of yours. mr. tyrrell is interested in the first regiment of cuirassiers." the herr oberkammerer bowed with an energy begotten of court life. "it would charm me to be the medium of bringing our much-honoured guest into friendship with the herr rittmeister. my friend von orsova of a certainty comes to my rooms here to conclude the evening and drink a glass of wine. if herr tyrrell would honour me likewise?" i thanked him and accepted. "that will be capital," my partner said. "you can discuss arms and horses, and enflame your martial spirits over some of the royal steinberger cabinet." "i can answer for the quality of the wine," eilhardt returned. "the dance is nearly at an end; we keep early hours in buyda. i cannot leave until his majesty retires. but if you will meet me here ten minutes after the king's departure, i shall do myself the honour to conduct you to my apartment." i agreed, and with a flourish he left us, swaggering off towards the royal party. "it is just as well to have a quiet chat with von orsova," fräulein von winterstein observed. "he is too fond of the dance to say many words to one here." "to a man." "_bien entendu._ he is a perfect waltzer." "happy partners!" "take care." "why?" her manner made me ask. then i followed her eyes and saw the reason of her whispered caution. the tall rittmeister was waltzing with the princess. they passed quite close to us. he was talking to her with an earnestness far beyond the usual ball-room trifling, or even flirtation. "a serious affair." "mr. tyrrell, you are hopelessly indiscreet. ah!" suddenly the band stopped. the king had risen abruptly and was evidently about to retire. the musicians stood up and played the national hymn. the princess casilde went quickly to her father, a procession was formed, and having interchanged bows with the company the royal party retired. there was to be a dance or two more; and, as though relieved by the departure of royalty, every one seemed to become more animated, smiles were now laughter, and the excessive, almost oppressive decorum of the dance vanished. my partner had hurried away with a bewitching "_auf wiedersehen!_" to join the royal party. left alone, i betook myself to the corner of the ball-room where herr eilhardt was to find me. chapter v the deserted ball-room if this state ball did not degenerate exactly into a romp, it grew more free and easy as i sat watching it and waiting for the oberkammerer. von orsova seemed to have had enough of dancing--he was evidently a good deal run after--and was now parading about with a dashing, middle-aged woman, corresponding to the skittish colonels' wives we see in our garrison towns. they passed me, she chattering and laughing, he rather bored, as it struck me, and strolled off towards the music-room. then i noticed the two men, szalay and d'urban, who had been with von lindheim and me in the gardens. they were talking earnestly together. i wondered if they, too, took the same serious view of the situation as my friend. herr eilhardt presently appeared and hurried to me with profuse apologies for having kept me waiting. the king was particularly exigeant that night, he had most unwarrantably taken it into his head to discuss certain arrangements, as though any one could be expected to enter into such subjects at midnight after a dance. this he confided to me confidentially, and then proceeded to look round for his other guest. von orsova was not to be seen in the thinning crowd. with renewed and quite unnecessary apologies the oberkammerer sailed off in search of him. only to return alone. "the rittmeister is nowhere to be seen. he has doubtless already gone to my apartment, not knowing i should return here. shall we ascend?" we ascended. herr eilhardt occupied a comfortable suite of rooms, shut off, like a flat, in a distant block of the great rambling palace. he was evidently a man of taste, from the quaint old furniture, the pictures and curiosities, with which his bachelor quarters were crammed. "the herr rittmeister is already here, yes?" he inquired of his servant. "no, oberkammerer," the man answered, "the herr rittmeister has not yet arrived." my host led the way into one of the most delightful dens i ever puffed smoke in. "shall we make ourselves comfortable? von orsova must be here directly. he said he should come. adolph! the wine." "you have a good time here," i remarked with a glance at my surroundings, almost too gorgeous for a bachelor official. he laughed. he seemed to have thrown off his official manner, to have become more human and less of a marionette. "we are in a groove," he replied; "and it is necessary to make that groove as comfortable as possible." "not only that," he proceeded with a frankness which rather surprised me: "in the artificial life of a court it is good to keep up the illusion. one must take one's duties seriously; etiquette, forms and ceremonies are often in themselves ridiculous. if one allowed oneself to feel their absurdity one could never perform them properly. one's surroundings must be in keeping with one's life; it would be fatal to regard them from an outsider's point of view." "you are rather a philosopher, mein herr." "i am a countryman of heine. a philosopher i hope first, and an official afterwards." "certainly. i congratulate you. how few of us can say we accept our lot in the same spirit!" there was a knock at the door. a servant in quaint livery entered and made two prodigious bows before delivering his message, which was to the effect that the king desired the oberkammerer's presence. "i attend his majesty immediately." the man bowed twice again almost to the ground and departed. in a moment my host had resumed his professional manner of a mediæval master of the ceremonies. his apologies were unbounded. it was most unfortunate; the king did not require his attendance at this hour once in six months. that it should have happened on this of all nights was deplorable. "it is a matter of duty," i said, holding out my hand, "no apology can be needed. i shall hope to have the pleasure of paying you another visit and of resuming our interesting conversation." "i know not for how long his majesty may require my attendance," he said regretfully. "his majesty has lately been given to step outside his prescribed circle," which was one way of hinting at eccentricity. "and the rittmeister von orsova does not seem likely to honour me to-night. it is altogether unfortunate, but you will give me the pleasure of dining here, and i will ask von orsova to meet you. you will not stay now? i am horrified at the idea of turning you out." i assured him that such violent emotion was unnecessary, and we left his rooms together, retracing our steps through the labyrinthine corridors and stairways of the old palace, my companion keeping up a string of explanations and apologies, which, of course, i politely deprecated. i was disappointed at missing von orsova, but he evidently was not bound for the oberkammerer's quarters that night. before a pair of emblazoned doors, guarded by a sentry, my host stopped and bade me good-night. "i must leave you here," he said, "as my time, you understand, is not my own. if you wait for a few moments i will send a man to show you the way out of the palace." "it is quite unnecessary," i protested. "please do not trouble. i have the bump of locality." "the grand entrance will be closed, or your way would be simply down these stairs. as it is, your nearest way will be to go to the end here, then along the picture corridor on the right, pass through the last door, thence you will easily find your way down to the private entrance. the sentries will direct you. good-night." with a flourish he passed through the grand doors into the royal apartments, and i went on through the suite of anterooms. beyond the last i found myself in a long corridor, panelled with portraits from that bygone world to which my late companion was so tenaciously clinging. "go through the last door," he had said. but there were two, exactly facing each other, and as fate would have it i pushed through the left-hand one instead of the right. i saw at once that i had made a mistake. i was in a curious room, something like a private box at the theatre, but on a very large scale. what light there was came through a half-closed window at the farther end. it was all so peculiar that my curiosity made me step forward and look through the window. a glance explained it. the little apartment overlooked the great ball-room where we had danced that evening, now in darkness save for the rays of a brilliant moon which streamed in full radiance through the row of windows on the opposite side, and for one other light. a pair of candles in a massive silver holder were placed on a console table, and showed me an extraordinary scene. two men standing in a recess by a window facing one another, and one pointing a pistol at his companion's breast. the light falling on the polished barrel showed it clearly and made me certain of that. but what astounded me most was my recognition of the two; the man with the pistol was the one who had accosted and questioned me in the wood that evening; i knew him in an instant; and the other was even less unmistakable--von orsova. "what on earth are they doing?" i said to myself. "what fresh piece of tomfoolery is this?" for it looked childish enough; the two were so quiet and matter-of-fact that it might have been a rehearsal of a stage scene. after the oberkammerer and his playing at mediævalism i was prepared for anything. the men were talking, but in so low a tone that from the distance i could not catch their words. but the man still continued to cover von orsova's heart with his pistol; they were not two paces apart. i wondered how long they were going to keep up the attitude, which was not particularly heroic or effective from my point of view. at last the murmur of their voices ceased; there was a movement, and one which sent a thrill through me. not so much the action as the agonized look on von orsova's face as he threw up his hands with a gesture of despair, and, turning almost with a stagger to the wall, leaned against it with his head on his arm. the other never let the pistol drop--it was still pitilessly pointed at the rittmeister. then i realized that something serious was in progress. my idea was that the smaller man was trying to extort something from von orsova, having got him at a disadvantage. but i was wrong, at least in that my speculation did not go far enough. after a few seconds von orsova turned again, facing the man and throwing out his hand in desperation. "is there----" he spoke louder, and by pushing the window a little way open i could hear him plainly say now--"is there no other way?" the reply came coldly and uncompromisingly. "none." "it is devilish, it is sheer murder," von orsova exclaimed bitterly; "and you, count, you lend yourself to it." "most regretfully. but the state is before everything." "the chancellor, you mean." "pardon me, the state. time is short, herr rittmeister. it would be a pity if i should be forced to pull the trigger." "ah!" von orsova gave a great sigh. "let me take the alternative." he turned to the console table and took up from it a small object which i could not distinguish. as he did so the other moved with him the corresponding distance, keeping the same space between them, and ever covering him with the pistol. then they returned to their former positions. von orsova seemed to be manipulating the thing he held in his hand. "my offence does not merit this punishment," he said, almost coolly, so coolly that i began to wonder what the punishment was. "the chancellor judges otherwise," the count returned. "you played a dangerous game, herr rittmeister, and must have known the risk you ran. but my orders are not to talk but to act; you understand?" von orsova raised the hand which held the small object. "this works quickly?" "instantaneously." the soldier seemed to fumble with it, then he burst out, "this is horrible! i cannot--i am young and unready to die. furello, my friend, let me escape; no one need ever know. i have rich relations and friends; i will buy my life with a fortune beyond--ah!" the cry was one of despair, as the count extended his arm to fire, and so cut short the other's pleading. it was appalling. as i realized what was going forward i broke out into a cold perspiration. my nerves are pretty firm, but i found myself trembling and almost paralysed, at least quite unable to decide on any line of action. the count's reply fell on my ear, but my brain was only half conscious of it. "i give you ten seconds. i am not a madman; and, if i were, escape would be impossible. shall i fire?" von orsova raised his hand. "i will spare you the trouble," he said, and then turned to the wall. i heard the murmuring sound of his voice, perhaps in prayer; then he raised his right hand to his head. next moment he staggered from the wall and fell heavily backwards with an awful thud, his head almost striking the count, who jumped back that it might clear him. so he stood for a few seconds watching the supine body, his pistol still pointing as though fearing a trick. then he moved round, always keeping his face towards the body, took up the candles in his disengaged hand, and held the light so that it fell on von orsova's face. from the distance at which i was placed i could plainly see the features, livid and distorted. i realized then that the startling tragedy was over. by a curious reaction my nerves suddenly regained their normal tension, and i could view the scene with as little excitement as though it were occurring on the stage, could look in mere curiosity to see what the count would do next. it was dramatic enough. the great room was dark now (for the moon was obscured), save at one corner, where the candles flickered on the ghastly face of the dead hussar, made more horrible by contrast with his gorgeous uniform; then the relentless black figure stooping over him. satisfied apparently with his inspection, the count set the candelabrum on the floor, and kneeling down beside the body, proceeded to unfasten the tunic, and inserting his hand, kept it for a while upon the heart. he withdrew it, fastened the gilt button again, raised the dead hand and let it fall with a thud on the floor. then he rose and took up the light, seemed to notice some small object lying near, which he pushed with his foot towards the body, held the lights above his head, and looked round the room. then he set down the candelabrum upon the table again, and went softly to the door. i groped my way back into the corridor, pushed open the right door this time, and found my way without difficulty down to the private entrance of the palace. a soldier on guard there challenged me, but saluted and made way respectfully on my explaining that i had come from the oberkammerer's apartments. chapter vi the capsized boat next morning i could hardly persuade myself that what i had seen the night before had not been all a dream. in the bright sunshine and in the active work-a-day life of the city, the ghastly business seemed impossible. but the effect of my experience lay heavy on my mind. i felt i could do nothing. as a state affair it was no business of mine to interfere; i could not decide even whether i should tell von lindheim what i knew. i was to see him late that afternoon, and had the greater part of the day at my disposal. thinking that exercise would be the best means of shaking off my depression, i determined to revert to an old sport of mine, rowing. accordingly, after a late breakfast, i hired the lightest sculling boat i could find, and went for a pull up the river. a picturesque stream, the narvo, when once you get clear of the wharves, mills, warehouses, and like unromantic accessories; but the worst piece of water for a steady pull that i had ever dipped oar into, and i had tried a good many, from the wensum to the danube. no sooner did i get into my swing and the craft began to slip along, than i had to hold her up for an eyot, or a patch of aggressive water lilies, varied by what answers in those parts for a weir, or a superfluous, if picturesque waterfall. but the clearing of the obstacles was all in the day's work. i was not bound against time for the source of the river, so pushed, hauled, and punted energetically, thinking the change of working muscles no bad thing. as a reward for my perseverance i presently got away from all signs of the town; the banks grew higher and, with their overhanging bushes, something like our wye, shut out the hideous chimneys and other unromantic evidences of buyda's commercial prosperity. as i pulled leisurely up a comparatively clear reach, my train of thought was snapped by the bow of my boat striking against some light object. i looked round and saw i had run against a floating scull. i took it into my boat, thinking some one might have let it slip and been unable to recover it, an awkward mishap not uncommon with duffers; then i rowed on, thinking to come across the owner before long. the sound of rushing water warned me that i was approaching another of the weirs, of which just then i was getting rather tired, since they meant haulage. beyond a sharpish bend the river widened considerably, the current became stronger, and, looking ahead, i could see an obstacle, half weir, half natural waterfall, with the usual rotten posts and dilapidated rails. i pulled on, undecided whether to take the trouble of carrying my craft round or to return, when a stroke took me beyond, and so in sight of an object lying caught in the sedge outside the current. a capsized boat. i did not like the look of it. "that accounts for the scull," i said, and pulled round to examine her. no one was to be seen on the banks, which were flat and open here. i ran my boat alongside the overturned craft. with some difficulty i righted her. a row-boat, similar to mine, she was of course empty, except that, jammed under the thwarts was a walking-stick, an ordinary bamboo with a hook handle and the usual silver band. this i threw into my boat, and then got ashore. not a soul was in sight. i walked up a good way past the fall, giving an occasional shout, but there was no sign of any human being, dead or alive, and the one seemed now as much to be looked for as the other. so i returned to my boat without having got nearer to the mystery, and now determined to pull homewards, for the river up higher did not promise much reward for my exertions. as i went back, however, i looked sharply about for any further evidences of a boating accident, but found none. it looked to me very much as though the boat had gone over the fall, and the walking-stick decidedly pointed to someone having been in her. but i came to the conclusion that even then if the fellow could swim and had kept his head he would probably have got off, with an extremely unpleasant ducking, as the fall was not great, and the water below clear of obstacles and fairly deep. at the landing-stage i told my story, but the capsized boat did not belong to the owner of mine, and the subject consequently lacked interest for him. there had been accidents over the falls, he told me; but it was people's own fault and stupidity. one of his men, however, thought he had seen a gentleman rowing up earlier in the day, but did not recognize him, or know where the boat had been hired. that was all; so not seeing what more i could be expected to do, i went back to the hotel, calling, however, at the police office on my way to give information of what i had found. the officer in charge phlegmatically assured me that the matter should be looked into, and bowed me out. having changed my clothes, i went on to von lindheim's. he had not returned home, although it was past his usual hour, but shortly after my arrival he made his appearance. he seemed in better spirits, and i was glad to notice that the cloud of the previous evening had passed away. he had been detained at the chancellerie, he said, by extra work; d'urban was away, whether on leave or through illness he had not been able to find out. "it was rather hard on me," von lindheim said, "but i had to stay over a stupid protocol, although i told krause, our chief, that i was taking an english friend to the theatre. however, we have just time for a short dinner, and the coffee we can get between the acts." we were going together _en garçon_ to see harff in shylock, and accordingly sat down to a hurried meal. it had been in progress scarcely ten minutes when word came in that von lindheim's friend and colleague, szalay, was waiting to see him on most urgent business. "i told the herr you were engaged, sir," said the servant, "but he said he must see you without delay." my friend looked grave, and jumping up with a word of apology to me, hurried from the room. i concluded that the visit had to do with the discovery of von orsova's death, and began to turn over in my mind whether i ought to say what i knew. but after all, i argued, it has nothing to do with these men; i had better perhaps ignore a matter of which i have no right to be cognizant. in a few minutes von lindheim returned, followed by his visitor. "you are a man of the world, my dear tyrrell, and we have come to put a case before you." i nodded assent. "szalay here has called to see me on a very serious matter indeed. he has been challenged to fight a duel." i whistled. "who's your man?" "a ridiculous little ass in the royal guard here; a fellow who is always swaggering about full of his own importance, a certain captain rassler de hayn, or hahn, as he is nicknamed." "and the cause of the quarrel?" szalay broke in eagerly: "none that i can tell of. he sends a friend to me to say that i have spoken disrespectfully of him, and so insulted his uniform, his corps, the army, and the king. he will hear of no apology." "fire-eating little fool!" von lindheim ejaculated. "but perhaps you have insulted him, and all the rest of it?" "not particularly. everybody laughs at the little spit-fire, you understand; i have laughed with the rest. but not to his face; i have manners." "de hayn is a dead shot and a clever swordsman," von lindheim observed grimly. "these fools are not wanting in pluck." "but why has he challenged me of all men?" szalay cried, with a gesture of bewilderment. lindheim gave a shrug. "who can account for the action of a conceited fathead? szalay has come to ask me to act for him. of course, the whole affair is ridiculous, still it may end seriously if we treat it as lightly as it deserves. i must go and see this lieutenant paulssen without delay. what line would you take?" "you come to the worst man in the world when you put such a case to an englishman," i answered, "for----" "i know. you have no duels, and hold them supremely absurd. but as a man of the world----" "don't call me that, even in a complimentary sense," i returned. "but so far as my advice goes, it would be to see this lieutenant paulssen, assure him that your principal has no recollection of having spoken disrespectfully of his, far less of any intention to do so; that his man has been misinformed, and generally to apologize for any careless word by which he may have unwittingly reflected upon that constructive list of institutions he is so jealous of. that's one way." "and the other?" "well, are you good with the sword or pistol? i presume you, as the challenged, will have choice of weapons." "my dear tyrrell, fighting is out of the question. one man is a professional cut-throat; szalay is a diplomat." "i have not handled a sword since i left the university," his friend added. "naturally you don't want to fight, no sane man does, especially over such imbecility. though, of course, if you could hit this little bouncer it would be doing society a good service." "well, i'll go and see paulssen at his quarters within the next hour," von lindheim said, "and you shall know the result." so szalay went off, in no very easy frame of mind. "the worst of this business is," my host remarked when we were alone, "that this paulssen is himself a hot-headed young fool. he probably will not want this affair stopped, if he calculates on an opportunity for showing off. i must tell him he is only likely to make an exhibition of himself. now, i'm sorry to hurry you. we may as well start together, and i will join you after the first act." on our way i found that the news i had been all day expecting had burst upon the city. newsvendors were crying the "terrible suicide of herr rittmeister von orsova." the sudden announcement came as a shock to von lindheim, yet it did not seem to strike him as in any way unaccountable. i could see that he, like myself, knew more of the affair than he cared to tell. we bought a paper, and read it eagerly in the street. von orsova had been found by a servant early that morning lying dead in a corner of the great ball-room of the palace. by his side was an empty phial containing hydrocyanic acid; the unfortunate rittmeister had evidently taken his own life, but the reason for the act was, up to that time, enveloped in mystery. my companion looked very grave as he folded up the paper. "i am not surprised," he remarked simply, adding in a lower tone, "the game he was playing could scarcely end otherwise. well, i must leave you here, and see this fellow. i will be at the theatre as soon as possible." about the middle of the second act he dropped quietly into the seat beside me. "what success?" i whispered. he shook his head. "none. i fear szalay must fight, and if he does----" he gave an expressive shrug. when the act was over we strolled out for coffee and a cigarette. "de hayn means to fight," von lindheim said in answer to my inquiry. "paulssen was instructed not to entertain any suggestion of an apology or explanation. szalay is a dead man." "can't we have the affair stopped?" i suggested. "surely it is not countenanced by the law." "no; but winked at, and, in the army, permitted under certain circumstances. there is only one chance that i see. the chancellor is against duelling; he thinks it retrograde, and he is all for progress. if i could contrive that he had wind of it----" a smart young fellow had come up to us and clapped him on the shoulder. "my dear von lindheim, the baroness fornbach has sent me to tell you that she has been trying for the last half-hour to catch your eye. but you are full of secrets this evening. you are to come to her box without fail, and disclose them to her. no; seriously, she wants to see you. of course bring your friend." von lindheim introduced us, and we three went off to the baroness's box. "i hope you don't mind, old fellow; but i can't throw a chance away to-night. the baroness is good style and great fun." when we entered the box we found it occupied by two people. a man was in animated conversation with the baroness. he had his back turned to me, and seemed to be finishing a good story, for they were both laughing as the man rose and made way for us. von lindheim presented me to the baroness, a good-looking widow, still young, and evidently a woman of fashion. we shook hands, and she said a few graceful words to me, then, with a slight gesture, introduced me casually to her companion. "count, you know herr von lindheim? mr. tyrrell, count furello." turning to bow, i found myself face to face with the man who had accosted me by duke johann's chapel the night before, the man who had forced von orsova to his death. i knew him at once, despite the fact that both my former views of him had been imperfect; the feline eyes that glittered from the dark recess of the box were unmistakable. and a curious-looking man he was; a man whom at first sight and without my previous knowledge of him, one would hardly have known whether to set down as attractive or detestable, but certainly interesting. he had a mass of straight chestnut hair brushed back from a high narrow forehead and falling in a thick even wall over the back of his head. his eyes were dark and alert, set a trifle too close together, his nose was long and thin, and his mouth drawn back by what seemed an habitual muscular contraction into a set grin, making a straight slit across his face in no way hidden by the small reddish moustache which was turned upwards well away from it. no doubt he, too, recognized me; however, he gave no sign of it, only made me a courtly bow with a few murmured words of compliment. i turned again as the baroness spoke. "is it out of compliment to mr. tyrrell's nationality that you have been too much absorbed in shakespeare to notice your friends in the house, herr von lindheim?" he made a--to me--obvious effort to throw off his worry, as he replied: "no, indeed; i cannot claim such ultra politeness. harff is at his very best to-night." "you are giving yourself a poor character as a diplomatist, herr von lindheim," said count furello, "in confessing that even the excitement of superb acting can blind you to the realities of life around you." he said this very genially, almost banteringly, but the man's good-humoured tone and laugh were obviously a mask; behind his easy manner and glib talk there was the suggestion of a sinister purpose; it was a personality which in any case would have kept me on my guard. chapter vii supper at the baroness's the baroness asked us to supper at her house after the play, and would take no refusal. "i did not stand out," von lindheim said afterwards, "as it will be a good opportunity of giving the count a hint about this wretched duel. he is a sort of confidential aide of the chancellor's." "not quite as easy-going as he looks," i suggested. "no; furello is not exactly a man to trifle with. he would be the last man for rallenstein's purpose if he were. but i have always got on very well with him." some other men came into the box and we left; the baroness making us renew our promise to sup with her. "i shall slip out after the trial scene," von lindheim said, as we returned to our stalls, "and report progress to szalay. poor fellow! i expect he is having an uncomfortable time. but i have hope yet of stopping this absurd affair. if i cannot get back here by the end of the play, we will meet at the baroness's, wiener platz, no. , the large house at the corner." we met there later on, for he did not return to the theatre. there were about a dozen of us at supper, a merry party enough when the champagne had gone round once or twice. "what an awful thing this is about poor von orsova," some one remarked. "ah, poor man!" the hostess said, "i dare not think of it. it is too horrible; to think that i was waltzing with him an hour before. to be dancing with an already half dead man,"--she gave a little affected shudder. "he was to have been one of your guests to-night, was he not?" furello asked. "oh, yes, indeed. who could have suspected when he accepted my invitation that he knew he would be dead long before." "does any one know the reason he had for suicide?" a lady next him asked furello. the count gave a shrug. "nothing has yet transpired. but the motives for such an act are often impossible to ascertain. there is nothing so irresponsible and eccentric as the mind of a man who has a tendency to self-murder. a sudden impulse is enough to bring about the catastrophe. who knows? i for one should be very sorry to insist on an adequate motive." i looked at the man and wondered at his coolness. he spoke easily, without a trace of effort to suppress the truth. it was hard to recognize the grim executioner in the glib, urbane society man. "oh, for heaven's sake, let us change the subject!" the baroness cried. "life is quite miserable enough without dwelling on these horrors. the poor man is dead; what does it matter now? it is all shockingly sad; but what can we do? after all, life is for the living. do all of you fill your glasses, and banish melancholy for an hour at least." "i hope, baroness," i said, for, as a foreigner, i occupied the place of honour, "you do not expect so soon a return?" "of wretchedness? my dear mr. tyrrell, it is a trite saying, but if we could only see inside each other's hearts what a revelation some of them would be." when supper was over, the ladies rose, and we were invited to smoke in an adjoining room. now an infamous thing happened, which, by the greatest good luck, i chanced to see. when the ladies were gone, von lindheim went over and began to talk to count furello, with the object, as i was sure, of giving him a hint about poor szalay's duel. i, of course, kept aloof, and was happy in finding myself next to a talkative young fellow, who had seen something of english life, and was very interested in our ideas of sport. we chatted away on this congenial topic, and i took no further notice of my friend. my young neighbour and i got on so well, that presently he insisted that we should drink a bumper of champagne together to our better acquaintance. accordingly we rose and went towards a sideboard at one end of the smoking-room, where the wine and glasses stood in array. von lindheim and count furello were standing by talking quietly. in order not to interrupt them, we kept a certain distance away as we poured out our wine. we clinked glasses with true german fervour, drank with no less, and filled again. a morsel of foil from the neck of the bottle was floating in my wine. i turned to the light and fished it out with a spoon. in so doing, i faced a mirror, which, set at an angle, and combined with another at my back, enabled me not only to see over my shoulder, but showed me what was going on in front of the man whose back was turned to me. and this is what i saw. a peculiar, furtive action on the part of the count caught my eye. he was leaning his left arm on the sideboard, presumably to screen from von lindheim what he did with his right. this hand moved quickly to an empty glass close by, and, resting over it, tilted, as though pouring something into it. what the hand held i could not see. had not my mind been full of murder and sudden death, or had the act been done less stealthily i should perhaps have thought little of it; many a man doctors his drink against gout or some other chronic ailment. even here a doubt was in my mind; although i could not help an almost sickening feeling of something very like horror, and i determined to keep a strict watch. taking a sip of my wine, i turned again to the sideboard, still talking and laughing with my new acquaintance, but keeping my eye carelessly on the count. he took up a bottle, the cork was not drawn, and with a show of polite alacrity i handed him ours, which was but half empty. he placed another glass in a line with the first and filled them. as i expected and feared, he then pushed them forward in such a manner that the doctored glass came naturally nearest to von lindheim. my previous night's experience was enough to tell me of the fearful danger in which my friend stood. i was determined that he should not touch that glass, yet what was i to do on the spur of the moment? a happy thought struck me. "let us all drink together," i cried, feigning a slightly elevated manner, at the same time slapping my young friend on the shoulder, then going quickly round to the other side of von lindheim. "we will drink together all four," i laughed. von lindheim's glance indicated his opinion that i had taken as much champagne as was good for me; the count showed his teeth in a tolerant smile. i leaned forward to the young fellow who was now separated from me by the other two men. "_prosit!_" i cried. exactly what i had calculated upon happened. the count was obliged to turn slightly in order to touch the other's glass with his own. at that instant i struck von lindheim a sharp blow. he turned to me half startled. "poison!" i dared only form the word with my lips, throwing all the horror i could into my expression as i nodded towards his glass. "don't drink for your life!" the words were not even whispered; happily von lindheim was sharp enough to comprehend the situation. he faced round to me, so that his back was turned upon the count, and next moment our glasses had been changed. i leaned forward and touched with the other two men; von lindheim did the same, and at a nod from me he drank some of his wine at which he at first hesitated. i raised the glass to my lips and pretended to drink, then i contrived unseen to spill a portion of its contents over my pocket handkerchief, so that i could return to my former place, a little unsteadily, with my glass half empty. all the time my brain was raging as i realized the hideousness of the business. the intense pity i felt for my friend comes back to me as the sensation uppermost in my mind then. but in that desperate situation action was imperative, sentiment useless. i kept up my talk with the young sportsman, watching all the while for an opportunity of saying a word to von lindheim. presently he left the count and came to me. my companion turned at the moment to relight his cigar, which in his chattering he had allowed to go out. "you had better smoke a cigarette," i said to von lindheim under my voice, "and then make an excuse to go. say you feel unwell." then i laughed and brought the other man into the conversation. he and von lindheim began to chat, as the count, throwing himself into a chair near us, opened a conversation with me. we exchanged some commonplaces, the usual small talk between a visitor and a native. i could tell he was a man of great tact, natural and acquired. he invariably said the right thing, passing from topic to topic with a pleasant, well-rounded comment upon each, such cut and dried talk as avoids all pitfalls of argument or contradiction. he gave an occasional glance at von lindheim, but quite naturally, his manner never showing the least preoccupation. to all appearances he was a genial, sociable man of the world, a state official merely by accident. in his careless way, however, he put a good many leading questions to me, principally as to my friendship with von lindheim, which i, affecting the part of a simple-minded sportsman, answered with a great show of frankness. presently my friend laid his hand on my shoulder. "don't let me hurry you," he said, "but i think of going homewards." "already? it is not so late for you, herr von lindheim," furello remarked almost chaffingly. "i'm tired and feel out of sorts," he replied as naturally as one could wish. "good-night, herr count. many thanks for the good offices you have promised me." "i'm a bird that goes to perch early. i'll come too," i said, bowing to the count, who, to my disgust, held out his hand--_the_ hand--which i was fain to take. so we made our adieux and next minute were in the street. chapter viii the beating of death's wings we had walked a hundred yards or more, and turned the corner of the street before either of us spoke. then i said, "a narrow escape, my friend." "are you sure?" he asked, scarcely above his breath, and, as he turned towards me, his face looked ghastly under the lamp. i told him exactly what i had seen. "i'm a marked man," was all his comment as i finished my story, and he spoke the words in a tone of despairing conviction. "a marked man, tyrrell, my good friend," he continued; "how can i thank you for having saved my life? your presence of mind was wonderful, though i fear your services can only prolong my agony. i'm doomed, lost." "nonsense, lindheim! for heaven's sake don't let your nerves go now when you want them most." he shook his head. "nerves are of no avail against the powers here. you don't know--be thankful you don't. furello is merely an instrument: one of many." "anyhow," i said cheerily, "i am going to stand by you and get you out of this business if it is as bad as you say. an englishman doesn't let cowardly murder go on before his eyes if he can help it." "it is splendidly kind of you, tyrrell; but you had better leave me to my fate. if you interfere you will only share it." i laughed. "not i." "you don't know rallenstein." "don't i?" he gave an apprehensive glance behind. "it is hardly worth while," he said, with an attempt at a laugh, "but we may as well be careful, as we are probably being watched." "of course, you are supposed to be ill; the poison is taking its effect," i returned. "you had better stagger and lean on me for the rest of the way." it did not need much of an effort to make him look pretty ill. he went through some appropriate pantomime, dismal enough when one comes to think of it, and i pretended to help him along till we came to his house. as we turned in i certainly seemed to see the indistinct figure of a man some distance behind on the other side of the deserted street. von lindheim begged me to stay, and, indeed, i was unwilling to leave him, having seen enough on both that and the previous nights to realize that he might stand in considerable danger, although, had it not been for the evidence of my own eyes, i should probably have set down his own fears as rather childish. in the house we found szalay waiting, pacing the room in a perturbed state of mind. "well?" he inquired anxiously. von lindheim flung down his hat. "we had better both make our wills, szalay," he cried in desperation. szalay's face turned greenish grey. "you can't settle it, then?" he asked nervously. "i have nearly settled myself in trying to," the other returned grimly. "i went to the baroness's to give furello a hint, with the result that, but for our friend here, i should have been carried home on four shoulders." "heaven! what do you mean?" szalay's eyes were almost starting from his head as he gasped out the question. von lindheim related the story of his escape. "my own idea is," he said in conclusion, "that the whole business, your challenge, and my invitation, are simply methods to get rid of us both." then there was silence, the silence of almost hopeless fear. "what are we to do?" szalay asked unsteadily. von lindheim gave a shrug. then, to relieve the tension, i spoke. "is it asking too much, as i mean to stand by you fellows, that you should tell me the reason of all this; what you saw last night?" "better not ask, my dear tyrrell; the knowledge is fatal--too fatal, already. d'urban is missing too," he went on, in a fresh access of despair. "poor d'urban, dead by now, probably. and orsova, you know." "i saw his death," i remarked. "in the papers to-night, yes." "no," i returned quietly; "i was present at his death last night." "you?" they both gasped out. "assuredly. in the palace." "suicide? no?" "well, it was and it wasn't. tell me what you saw, and you shall hear all about it." von lindheim walked to the mantel and leaned against it. "we are doomed, szalay. we are both dead men." his colleague had turned away to hide, perhaps, the fear that was in his face. "what did you fellows see?" i repeated. "enough," von lindheim answered, with a short laugh of desperation, "to make our lives forfeit. the devil must have led us to investigate that light." "what did you see?" "a sight for which we have now to pay," szalay broke in bitterly. "the little chapel was just dimly lighted by a pair of candles," von lindheim proceeded. "through a light-coloured pane in the low window we could see a priest in vestments standing before what had once been the altar. it was curious. he seemed the only person in the chapel. soon he looked up, as though at the entrance of some one, and opened the book in his hand. three people, a man and two ladies, came quickly up the chapel and placed themselves before him at the altar. you may guess who two of them were. von orsova and the princess casilde. they had come to be married." "married! that accounts for everything." "more than accounts for it," my friend continued grimly. "well, when we realized what the scene meant, the spirit of caution took possession of us; we were chance spectators of what was practically an act of high treason." "accessories in effect," szalay put in. "there were two courses open to us," von lindheim went on. "to interrupt the ceremony, or to steal away and keep our own counsel. our evil genius prompted us all three to choose the latter." "the former was too dangerous," szalay said. "we knew too much; even in that case we should have been marked men." "anyhow," the other proceeded, "we crept away from the window and hurried back through the wood to the palace." "it was a mistake," szalay said. "we should have run the other way." "a fatal mistake. for we came plump upon two men hastening towards the chapel. one ran on, the other halted and scrutinized us, then followed his companion. the jaguar, and his striking paw, furello." "the two i saw," was my remark. "yes. now you see the man, the fiend, and his methods," von lindheim said. "he did not strike at once, but watched the marriage to an end, that he might strike more surely and quietly. now we have the whole story." "so far. it is not ended," szalay said gloomily. "i fear it is i who have unwittingly betrayed you," i said. "furello could but have guessed before he cross-questioned me." "a guess is enough for rallenstein. he makes sure." "anyhow, i feel guilty," i said, "and am determined to stand by you both if you will let me." "better start for england to-night," von lindheim replied gloomily, "before you share our fate." i laughed. "even your chancellor will think twice before he murders a british subject." "murders? no. my dear tyrrell, your death would be of the most deplorably accidental description. rallenstein is above all things an artist." "well, i'm not going to desert you fellows, so please don't suggest it. now you shall know what i saw last night." then i told them of the chance which had made me a witness of von orsova's death. needless to say the recital did not tend to allay their fears. "the rittmeister has paid!" szalay exclaimed, with a lugubrious jerk of the head. "but you," i said, "what crime can there be in what you saw in that glance through the window? if that is motive enough for getting rid of you----" "motive enough," von lindheim returned. "if you knew what we could tell you, you would not be surprised. in this country a whisper, a shrug, a laugh are, any one of them, enough to bring a man to his death. and the innocent have often to suffer for the guilty--to make sure." "it is clear enough," szalay added, pacing the room. "this _affaire_ orsova is likely to upset the chancellor's plans. if it were to become a scandal, the alliance he has set his heart and the king's upon would never come to anything." some one was heard below, and von lindheim ran to the door. "it is only pabst," he said, coming back with a relieved face. "i had forgotten he was out." there was a knock at the door and pabst came in. he was von lindheim's housekeeper and factotum, a respectable elderly man. he looked perturbed. "pardon, meine herren," he said. "i did not know herr szalay was here. he has doubtless brought you the bad news." the two colleagues looked at each other in renewed fear. "what bad news?" von lindheim asked. "you mean the death of the herr rittmeister von orsova," i suggested. "pardon, mein herr," pabst answered, with a grave shake of the head, "it is nearer than that. herr d'urban----" "ah!" the terror in both men made them cry out simultaneously. but the good pabst probably read nothing in their faces beyond ignorance, and concern for the fate of a colleague. "he is most unhappily drowned," he said. "drowned?" "they found his body in the river this evening near the powder mills. they say his mother, poor lady, is----" "but d'urban was a swimmer," szalay cried. "he could swim well," von lindheim said gloomily. "but of what avail was that----" "true, mein herr," pabst chimed in. "he has an ugly blow on his head. they say he must have been carried over the tollert fall, struck against a rock or pile, and so been stunned." "his turn has come first," von lindheim observed grimly when the old servant had left the room. he seemed to be growing reckless now from the very hopelessness of his situation. "what are we to do?" he laughed. "one thing is settled," i said. "you and herr szalay are going to face this danger, if it exists, and will not give up your lives without a struggle. surely, lindheim, there is some law, some authority to which you can appeal for protection." he shook his head. "none." "but in these days of civilization men are not butchered in cold blood without an appeal to law and justice." "civilization," he answered, "is a very pretty word for occasions. we are proud of it, in theory, but it is never allowed to stand in the way of political expediency. the head of all law and authority in this country is the chancellor; the king himself is but his creature, and rallenstein's methods are, when necessary, quite mediæval." "but men in your position----" "bah! he would have the king poisoned to-morrow if it suited his purpose. we have no party government here, worse luck!" "then there is nothing to do but to find a way of escape." "escape? outwit the jaguar!" he laughed at the idea. "we'll try, anyhow. let us view the situation calmly. you are supposed to have drunk that dose of furello's, and are dying. we have the start of them there." he made an impatient gesture. "it comes to the same in the end; the agony is only prolonged. better get it over." "nonsense. you have a chance, and a good one. i tell you both you must not be so mad and wicked as to throw it away." thus appealed to, and perhaps catching hope from my confident manner, they made an effort to look more cheerfully at the business. "there may be half a chance," von lindheim said. "there will be none," i said, "if you give up. we have three heads here, and we know our danger. you mean to fight for your life, eh, herr szalay?" szalay tried to smile, but could only achieve a ghastly grimace. "i am not yet tired of my life, and am ready to make an effort." "good!" i returned. "now for our plans. we must hoodwink this autocratic butcher. send for a doctor; the most stupid in the place, for choice. who answers to that description?" von lindheim thought a moment. "doctor rothmer, i should think, eh, szalay? the man who killed the reichsrath lorenz by treating him for indigestion when he had peritonitis." "a pompous idiot, eh? just the man. send for him at once, and turn into bed. recollect you are poisoned; but don't tell the doctor that. all you know is that you have been supping abroad and are horribly ill." i rang, and told pabst to send for the doctor. "and i? what am i to do?" szalay inquired with almost ludicrous concern. "i am not poisoned." "no. you have simply got to keep quiet and not be seen. your second is taken suddenly ill and cannot act for you. i may be able to avert the meeting; at any rate to delay it. anyhow, we must work to throw our enemies off their guard. that's the vague plan i have at present." szalay brightened. my taking things so coolly seemed to give him confidence. the whole business was an eye-opener certainly; and after what i had seen there was no room for doubt that the chancellor and his people meant business. however, funk and flurry would do no good. i, being somewhat involved in the affair, was prepared to see it through, and take my chance of trying any of the pleasant little ways the authorities seemed to have for disposing of awkward onlookers. whether i had let these men in for the trouble or not i was resolved to get them out, and i thought i could do it. chapter ix the duel he was a self-important, incompetent fellow; i could see that, and so just the man for our purpose. i had impressed upon von lindheim that his life depended on his playing his part well, and i must say there was no fault to be found with his performance. he appeared to be in great agony, while szalay and i, with a great show of excitement and distress, told the doctor a plausible tale of the sudden seizure. finally, i laid stress upon the suddenness of the attack in perfect health, and suggested ptomaine poisoning. "assuredly," the fellow returned, well pleased at finding himself taken for rather more than even he pretended to be. "the symptoms certainly point to the presence of poisonous matter in the system, and we must, at all events, take measures to counteract it." accordingly he did take measures, which the patient in turn took good care to neutralize. the doctor was so fussy and stupid that we found no difficulty in contriving that he should not make an examination which might have betrayed, even to him, the real state of the case. presently he bustled off to prepare a draught. i offered to accompany him to his house, and hurry back with the potion, so that it might be given without delay. as i opened the door to go out a young fellow came up, an officer by his uniform, and asked for von lindheim. i guessed at once that he was the second of the fire-eating captain de hayn, and rejoiced that he had arrived at that moment. i saluted him punctiliously. "herr von lindheim has, i regret to say, been taken ill, dangerously ill. it is impossible for you to see him." as i expected, the young fellow gave an incredulous smile. "really, sir? my----" i cut him short. "here is the doctor, who will confirm what i tell you. you know dr. rothmer?" he did not know dr. rothmer, but happily that good man's profession was unmistakable. "it is indeed the case," he said pompously. "herr von lindheim is seriously ill. i cannot allow you to see him." "if you will step in for a moment," i said, "i will tell herr von lindheim that you are here, and will follow you, doctor, directly." the professional was bustled off, and i took lieutenant paulssen into the dining-room. "i presume you have called to see von lindheim about the affair in which he is acting for herr szalay. von lindheim has only just asked me to inform herr szalay of his illness, and to request him to find another second. but i hope, lieutenant, your visit may be to say that it is unnecessary; that this deplorable, this absurd affair is at an end." the young fellow seemed to bristle with resentful importance. "pardon!" he returned uncompromisingly; "that is by no means my mission. and i must request you, sir, to refrain from referring to an insult to our army as absurd." i changed my tone to one of easy familiarity. "of course, lieutenant, my expression absurd was very far from being applied to the honour of your corps, which i am sure you, as a gallant soldier, hold above everything in the world. what i meant was the idea of poor szalay measuring swords with so renowned a fighter as your principal." he shrugged his epauletted shoulders. "it is unfortunate," he responded stiffly. "but herr szalay should have remembered that before uttering words of disrespect concerning captain de hayn." "i understand he has no recollection of having done so; he is ready----" "pardon, mein herr," he interrupted with a formality, brusque in its uncertain touch, "if i decline to discuss the matter with you." i bowed. "you have every right to do so." "we will stand no shuffling," he cried. "i swear i will not eat my breakfast till the affair has come off. if herr von lindheim is ill, then herr szalay must find another friend, or take the consequences." "no doubt," i replied, "if von lindheim's illness continues, herr szalay will find another friend. but you can hardly expect him to do so by breakfast time." he twirled his silly little moustache, and put on one of the most stupidly offensive looks it has ever been my fortune to see on a human countenance. "you, sir," he said blusteringly, "you seem to be at pains to champion herr szalay; what is there to prevent your acting as his friend?" "only the fact that he has not honoured me by asking me to do so." "it is absurd, this attempt to play fast and loose," he spluttered. "we shall not permit it, that i swear. i am surprised that any one should counsel delay. delay in an affair of this sort, sir, we hold as a coward's word. and if you have any regard for your friend's honour you will see that this business is settled at once. i shall not go to bed to-night, but shall expect to receive herr szalay's friend. that is my last word; i have a duty to perform. i have the honour, sir. good evening." he made me a bow which was meant, no doubt, to be the quintessence of military dignity, and clattered from the room. i let him go, seeing that an appeal to common sense was worse than hopeless. then i went up, and gave the two men an account of my interview. "clearly," lindheim said, "even if there had ever been a doubt about it, this ridiculous duel is simply a trick of the jaguar's to get rid of our friend." "i fear that is certain," i assented. szalay had sat in a gloomy silence, and, appreciating his feelings, i had taken little notice of him. he now rather astonished me by starting up and exclaiming, "i will fight! i will fight this duel!" "better not," i observed laconically. "yes, i will!" he repeated, pacing the room in a state of nervous excitement. "don't think me mad; it is by far the most sensible course to take. i have got to die; my life is forfeit; the jaguar never turns off from the prey he has marked down. better a thousand times fall by a soldier's bullet in open day, when the chances are nominally equal, than be done to death in secret by one of rallenstein's butchers. yes, my friends, i am resolved; do not try to turn me." for we had simultaneously began to exclaim against his decision. "herr tyrrell, if you will honour me by standing my friend, it would be a great favour, the last i shall probably ask of any man; if you will see this paulssen and arrange the meeting for as soon after daybreak as possible. i have the courage now and am in the mood; who knows how long it may last?" "it is sheer suicide," i remonstrated; "if this de hayn is a dead shot, and you----" he laughed. "i am to die assuredly within the next forty-eight hours." "not necessarily!" i objected. "you are a tower of strength, herr tyrrell," he replied wistfully. "but even you cannot stand against our king jaguar, and in any event you will have enough to do to save our friend here. now will you go to paulssen at once? i ask you as a friend." he was not to be dissuaded, and perhaps both von lindheim and i had a secret feeling that, on his chances, the course he urged had something to commend it. so, after waiting for a comedy scene with the doctor, who paid us another fussy visit, during which he nearly succeeded in making his patient actually swallow a manifestly loathsome draught, i went off to lieutenant paulssen's lodgings and arranged preliminaries for the meeting which was to take place at daybreak. my pugnacious friend was sullenly gratified, receiving my communication with a significant, "it is well." having a pretty shrewd idea of the fellow's sense and capabilities, i wasted no time, but simply and curtly settled the necessary details of the meeting, and returned to von lindheim's. the rest of the night i spent in coaching my poor principal in the use of his weapon. i had on his behalf naturally chosen pistols for the encounter, as giving a rather better chance; with swords he would have been as a sheep before a butcher. the poor fellow attended to my instructions in a mechanical, half-dazed fashion; he was utterly without hope, indeed, clearly in the apathy of despair. but we did our best to cheer him, and i took pains to impress upon him one or two wrinkles which might possibly give a slender chance in his favour. in the dull grey of a chilly dawn we set out for the place of meeting, and certainly it was the most disagreeable errand on which i ever started. on the way my companion tried to talk on different subjects, even to jest on his situation and its almost certain issue; but it was all so hideously forced as a cover to his despair, that it would have been far less painful to me had he kept silence. the rendezvous was a short distance outside the city, the less frequented side of a common bordered by a plantation. being before our time we were first on the ground, and i utilized the interval of waiting in reiterating the instructions i already had given szalay; but he was in such a piteous state of nervousness that to me, as the affair had to be gone through with, it was a relief when the other party appeared. they were three: de hayn, paulssen, and a professional-looking person, evidently the surgeon whom paulssen had arranged to bring. it seemed as though the sight of the trio and the approach of the critical moment had the effect of steadying szalay's nerves somewhat. "so they have brought the doctor," he laughed; "it is just as well to do everything in order, even a murder." "the chances are if he hits you it won't be in a vital part," i said to comfort him. "now, mind; take steady aim on the first sight and get your fire in before his, it's your best chance." the account given of the fire-eating captain de hayn had not been over-coloured. it seemed impossible that five feet four inches of humanity could hold a greater quantity of truculent conceit than was manifestly compressed into his personality. a greater contrast between this business-like little butcher, with his bronzed--and brazen--countenance, and poor szalay, trying to control his shaking nerves and keep a manly look on his grey face, could not be imagined. principals and seconds saluted punctiliously, and the doctor gave szalay and me a bow, his expression being nicely differentiated as between the humane reserve towards a dying patient, and the grave announcement of a hopeless case to his friends. paulssen and i measured the ground, while the doctor, with professional glib deliberation, set out his case of instruments. all was ready; we placed our men. "bring down your pistol with decision, and fire first," i again enjoined in a whisper. if ever a man was sick at the irony and unfairness of life i was then, as i drew back from that poor fellow, already, as it seemed, half-dead. indeed, i remember wondering how he contrived to keep so steady. i glanced at his dapper little opponent, standing in professional duellist's style, not the easiest of marks for a good shot; to my man practically invisible. paulssen was to give the word; the usual one! two! three! perhaps he had anticipated my instructions to szalay as to firing if possible before his adversary: the usual advice given to a novice at the game. anyhow, he made a deliberate pause between one! and two! but none between two! and three! the reports appeared to be simultaneous; next i heard paulssen utter an oath as he rushed forward to his man, followed by the doctor. as fate would have it, the unexpected had happened. szalay was untouched, while de hayn, the victor in a dozen encounters, lay prone on the turf with a bullet through his heart. chapter x an asylum as may be imagined, we returned to von lindheim's in a very different state of mind from that in which we had set out. our friend's surprise at seeing szalay, whom he had already looked upon as a dead man, was only equalled by his delight. but we realized that szalay's providential escape had only increased the danger of the situation. no time was to be lost now in forming a plan of escape. we agreed that it must be effected that morning, before rallenstein might have time to set his emissaries of death on our track. both the result of the duel and the pretence of illness would give colour to a precipitate move from buyda. as a dying man, von lindheim was to be conveyed to a country house he had at schönval, some twenty miles from the capital. and indeed, if he was really to die, he would prefer that the blow should fall there; and in that stronghold we felt we might turn at bay and at least gain time, if flight out of the country, too dangerous now, should subsequently seem feasible. then came the question--what was to become of poor szalay? he stood in equal danger. we could not, for humanity's sake, leave him to his fate. if we did he would most assuredly be a dead man within twenty-four hours. but how to get him away under the lynx eyes of rallenstein and his creatures? after many plans we decided upon doing the best we could to disguise him as a servant, and so taking him down to schönval with us. he was a fair-faced man with reddish hair and beard. we made him shave, blackened his hair and eyebrows, found some paint and gave his complexion a ruddy tinge; then we dressed him in an extra suit of pabst's, and flattered ourselves the disguise would pass even under count furello's eye. anyhow, when he finally saw himself in the glass he hardly recognized his own identity, and behind his effective mask began to take courage. but it was an anxious time for all of us. i was too concerned for the awful peril in which my friends stood to appreciate fully the adventurous side of the business. fighting against these underhand methods of assassination was not quite to my taste. still, the danger was real enough, and that had to be met. having come to a decision, we sent hastily for dr. rothmer. after our anxious vigil von lindheim looked pale and drawn enough to support his pretended symptoms. when we mentioned his desire to be taken to his country home, the doctor, as we foresaw, strongly objected to any such move. he was not going to lose fees if he could help it. we appeared rather to fall in with his views, intending all the same to make a start when he had gone, and simply mentioning the matter for the sake of plausibility. von lindheim lay groaning, with a stimulated quick respiration and signs of collapse in which we had coached him. the doctor looked grave, shook his head at the difficulty of combating ptomaine poisoning, and finally, having impressed upon us the patient's extremely critical state, went off, promising to send another draught, which might relieve the symptoms. no sooner had he left us than we began to prepare for our flight. we had settled that the first part of the journey should be made by road, for the reason that by railway we should be more open to observation. so we proposed driving to a country station about eight miles distant, and then catching a train to our destination. the move was carried out successfully; at least without hindrance. half an hour sufficed to make our preparations and have a roomy carriage at the door; our pseudo-invalid was borne out and laid in it, szalay, in his new guise, helping in the work. so we started, leaving the faithful pabst to answer inquiries; our departure and manner of travelling being plausible enough. so far as we could tell, our move had been quite unobserved. the street was comparatively deserted, as it would be at that early hour, and as we drove off and got clear of the city, we congratulated ourselves that, so far, we had given the slip to the jaguar, and at least had a good start of any pursuit. it was a bright morning, and as we rolled along over the country roads lined with dew-sparkling hedges, the gloom of the situation seemed to have lifted with that of the night. the brilliancy of the day seemed to give the two despairing men a new zest for life, and with that came courage. even poor szalay could discuss his position calmly and more hopefully; we could have laughed at the absurd alteration in his appearance but for the thought that he had taken a man's life that day. we presently slackened our pace, that we might arrive at the wayside station just when the train was due. this we hit off very successfully, and carried our invalid tenderly, with anxious faces, into an empty compartment. no other passengers were at the station, with the exception of a couple of old market women, and we felt sure they were genuine. an attentive guard found us a carriage and assisted us, rather officiously, it seemed; but then first-class passengers were rare at those little stations. at each stoppage he came to look after us, and at the end of the short but tedious journey, he helped us out and bustled about us with rather more assiduity than was agreeable. however, before we were able to leave the station for schönval we had seen him whistle the train off and depart with it. "i didn't quite like that guard," von lindheim said as we drove away. i reasoned with him against his uneasiness. "ah, you forget," he answered, "our railways are state property. the man may very well be in the chancellor's employ." "anyhow," i said, "he is miles away by this." "and here we are at home," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief. "safe so far." chapter xi a court physician schönvalhof was an old grey stone house, standing not far from the foot of pine-covered hills. a substantial dwelling, its interior more comfortable and homelike than my first view of its somewhat rugged exterior led me to expect. it was, they told me, built on a part of the site of an old baronial castle, some ruins of which still stood adjacent to the modern house. a couple of old family servants made us comfortable at the short notice, and we had decided that, for a time at least, lindheim should continue his rôle of the sick man; szalay that of his personal attendant. we felt it would be madness for either of them to venture out of doors just then, so the pretence of illness could be kept up without much deprivation. for we were certain that we should be followed, and that attempts would be made to get quietly rid of the witnesses of that fatal marriage. how the next blow would be aimed, from what quarter it would come, we could not even conjecture. but that it was to be looked for we all were certain. if there was one quality which in chancellor rallenstein was distinguished above another, it was tenacity of purpose. to him a temporary baffling was but a provocative; the slightest hint of opposition at once banished all hesitation. so we had every reason to feel sure that he would draw the net round us. still, life was strong in the two marked victims, and the longer we could put off the stroke the more chance there might be of fate coming to our rescue. nothing but that, they felt. help from outside it was vain to look for. for in that small independent state the supreme power, that is, of the chancellor, was a law unto itself. his authority was boundless and answerable to no one, and if the deaths of two or three of the king's subjects were necessary for motives of state policy, why, short of a revolution, rallenstein had no reckoning to fear. my case, as a british subject, i felt was different; not that i could consider myself by any means outside the danger line. i was in the _galère_, or--what was more to the point--in the secret, and had little doubt that a "regrettable accident" was being prepared for me. our one satisfaction was in the thought that the jaguar would have to crawl warily and strike silently, knowing that a bungle would probably mean the publishing of the secret he was taking so much trouble to keep. and this was where i, vaguely enough, saw a ray of hope. for two or three days we lived quietly without the smallest sign of molestation; no stranger, nothing abnormal was noticed about the place--and i kept a sharp look-out--till we almost began to fancy that we were to be let alone. a formal letter had been sent informing the authorities of von lindheim's illness as an excuse for his absenting himself from his duties, and of this a mere acknowledgment had been received. that was all. of szalay we said nothing, and we hoped rallenstein's spies had no scent of his whereabouts. certainly, it would not have been so easy to give a valid excuse for his absence. so, as the days passed, we seemed to gain more confidence and hope from detecting no sign of danger; at least, we got to look at the bright side of the business, till suddenly a rude awakening came. but first of all, to take the history of those anxious days in order. von lindheim received one morning an official letter, inquiring as to his health, and saying, further, that the king had heard with concern of the serious and regretted illness of such an esteemed member of his royal service, and had graciously commanded that the herr hof-artzt beckmeister should pay the patient a visit on behalf of his majesty, who trusted to receive a more favourable report of herr von lindheim's condition. this letter filled my friends with dismay. but the move was so obvious and natural that the only wonder was it had not been foreseen. i asked what manner of man the court physician was. "he is a dandified old scoundrel; a humbug as a doctor, but no fool. and he has skill enough, acting upon a hint, to diagnose that i have nothing the matter with me. of course it is obvious what he is sent down for. he is a creature of rallenstein's, who, however, does not employ him when he himself is ill." "we must do the best we can with him," i said, turning over in my mind various tricks to that end. "we can't keep him from seeing and examining you, and of course that means discovery that you are in more or less robust health." "but they must think i drank the poison." "yes; that's in our favour. and that is the idea we must work. the dose was too small, and consequently only partly operative. the physical effects have now passed off, but they have left brain trouble, and your nerves are shattered. herr hof-artzt beckmeister is presumably no brain specialist nor an authority on the after-effects of certain, or rather uncertain, poisons. his stethoscope and thermometer will tell him nothing to refute our story; he may have suspicions, but that is all." so we planned the conduct of the interview, and i, at any rate, awaited with a certain amused curiosity the arrival of herr beckmeister. he came next morning in a hired carriage from the station. a dressed-up, brushed-up villain, with diamond rings, studs and pin, a heavy gold watch chain, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and gold-knobbed malacca stick. a crafty, sensual face, and a sharp eye that meant business. "ah," thought i, "you've had your instructions, that's plain." but i received him with all the respect which would have been his due had he been the man he pretended, and possibly believed himself, to be. his majesty had graciously honoured him with a command to visit my friend. herr von lindheim was better to-day, he ventured to hope. i thereupon described the illness, somewhat differently, perhaps, from the visitor's expectation. my friend and i had supped on such an evening at the house of a charming lady in buyda--possibly well known to the herr hof-artzt, the baroness fornbach. the herr hof-artzt conveyed by a bow and a smirk that he was one of that lady's circle. "on the way home," i continued, "my friend was taken alarmingly ill. i got him with difficulty to his house; he was put to bed." i described his symptoms. "but he grew so much worse that we feared he would not live through the night, which was likewise the opinion of the doctor we called in." "who was that?" "doctor rothmer." the herr hof-artzt groaned and gave a shrug. "in the morning, however, my friend felt easier, but in oppressive fear of death. his one idea was to reach his home and die here. the desire seemed so strong that i hastily procured a carriage and brought him hither in the hope that the change would restore him." "and it has?" he asked expectantly. "in a great, great measure. the alarming bodily symptoms have subsided, but, herr doctor, it seems as though a worse calamity had befallen us." "indeed?" he looked at me curiously, but i think could make nothing of my anxious, innocent manner. "yes. i fear his brain is affected. he is painfully nervous, and is under the impression that he has been maliciously poisoned. he rambles about enemies who are seeking his life, and all my reasoning cannot persuade him of his fallacy." again herr beckmeister looked sharply at me, so sharply that i wondered how much of the business he knew. then he rose, and, pulling out just the watch i should have imagined him to carry, a showy monstrosity, with a gaudily enamelled device on each side of the case, suggested, as he wished to catch a certain train back, he should see the patient. as this was inevitable, i led the way with a great show of alacrity, even thankfulness, and showing him von lindheim's room, left them together. we had planned that von lindheim should very vaguely, yet with a mad insistence, take the doctor into his confidence, and by a long recital of supposed danger keep him from a too searching examination. whether it succeeded or not we never knew. when, after a twenty minutes' interview, beckmeister came out of the room, he would give nothing away. "your friend," he said to me, "seems in surprisingly good bodily health after what we have heard of his attack. you will understand, however, that my report is for his majesty's ear, and that etiquette forbids me to forecast it even to you." so with another flourish of his abominable watch, and some vague expressions of sympathy, he bowed himself into the carriage and drove off. chapter xii a mysterious occurrence nothing more happened for a day or two, except that von lindheim received a letter asking him to send word as soon as possible when he would be able to resume his duties, the hof-artzt having reported his opinion that the indisposition was only temporary. the letter concluded with a compliment to von lindheim's ability, and an expression of regret that the bureau should be deprived of his valued services at a time when their loss was being particularly felt. "they want to entice me back," he said. "so much for their fair words. that is a stroke of the jaguar's soft paw with the claws ready to spring out. i know him." his impression was, that he had puzzled, if not quite deceived, doctor beckmeister. he flattered himself that he had played his part well. "if they think i am really off my head they may treat me as a neglectable factor, and so give me a chance of escape." then there was the question of szalay. we had no opportunity of learning how his disappearance had been taken. of course his presence at schönval was a distinct source of danger, inasmuch as it absolutely contradicted the part von lindheim was playing, if only it were known. this, however, we hoped was not the case. we had elaborated his disguise, and even the chancellor's suspicious eye could hardly have recognized in the dark, sleek-looking attendant on the invalid the red-haired, bristling, lively szalay of our buyda days. our plan was to wait awhile, and then to take an opportunity of sending him out of the country to some friends who lived on the other side of the alps. but as every day safely passed was making us more hopeful of ultimate escape from those vicious claws, our hopes were dashed by an extraordinary occurrence which revived our worst fears, and which i will relate in detail. it will be understood that i ignored all necessity for keeping myself a prisoner, as the others had to do. personally, although at times i conceived it quite possible that rallenstein might not be sorry for a plausible opportunity of putting me out of the way, i felt no fear, and went about the place as i felt inclined, merely taking the precaution of carrying loaded in my pocket the small revolver with which i always travelled. i walked about the village, rode over the country round, but never saw anything suspicious, nothing in which could be discerned the jaguar's watching eye, until the evening i am about to speak of. i had strolled out after dinner, as was my wont, in company with a favourite dog of von lindheim's, a fine wolf-hound, which i often took with me on my rides. my evening strolls were as much in the nature of a patrol as a constitutional, but, as i have said, i had never detected anything to warrant them. on this occasion i went across the garden, then through a belt of plantation, and so on to a long terraced walk, lined on either hand with conifers, and having on one side occasional gaps, giving on to an arable field sloping down to a road some quarter of a mile below. these openings had been made to afford passing glimpses of what was a charming view, with a small river winding its course on the other side of the road, and, beyond, the pine woods stretching away in broken masses as far as the eye could reach. the land between our terrace and the road was divided into small fields by hedges running longitudinally, useless divisions, except that they broke up the stretch of furrow, and so improved the landscape. the fields were now green with springing wheat, and dotted here and there over them were dummy scarecrows, a very necessary, if feeble defence, against the multitudes of birds that were harboured in the woods beyond. i mention all these details as being necessary to the comprehension of what follows. i strolled along the walk thinking of the situation, the dog running now behind now in front of me. we had been getting more hopeful; our plan now being that we should wait a little longer, and then all three make our way out of the country. the two men would take up their abode in paris, or possibly go to england with me, not to return to their home until rallenstein's power was at an end, or at least until the turn of political events gave them assurance that they could breathe their native air in safety. i had taken a turn and a half along the terrace when a sharp, low bark of suspicion from the dog broke the silence round, and aroused my attention. "hey, fritz, old fellow! what's the matter?" i cried. the dog was running to and fro with his nose to earth, growling and whining excitedly. i went through the opening to the edge of the field and stood watching him. it was now dusk, and nothing could be clearly seen beyond a distance of, say, fifty yards. the dog was evidently on the scent of something; on a strange scent, i thought; one, to judge by his manner, that aroused his instinctive suspicion. he was evidently trying to find where the scent led away, but in this for a while he was in fault. suddenly, however, he gave louder tongue and darted off. i went through the opening, and ran along the crest of the hill in the direction fritz had taken. he had got some distance ahead, and i could see nothing of him in the gathering darkness. after going some way, i stopped and whistled. there was no response to that, but a few seconds after, as i was about to call again, there came a loud, angry bark, with a deep cry (i could not swear, but it seemed to me human), and the snarling growl of a dog in the act of seizure, abruptly stopping, then silence. "by george, he has caught something!" i cried, and ran towards the point whence the noise had come. nothing unusual was to be seen. "fritz!" i called, then whistled. no answer. dead silence. fairly puzzled now, i ran on. then thinking that i had gone too far, i wheeled round and went back towards the terrace, walking slowly, and looking well about me. suddenly in the semi-darkness i sprang forward with a cry of anger. the mystery of the silence at least was solved. this is what i came upon. an overthrown scarecrow, and fritz lying stretched on the ground beside it. i called him, although something told me it was useless, he would never move again. so it was. there was a great wound in his throat, and his head lay in a pool of blood. what had happened? i jumped up and looked round, pulling out my revolver. i listened intently. not a sound. i ran down the field to the road, keeping as sharp a look-out as was possible. no one was to be seen. i broke through the hedge and searched the bank of the river, but with no greater result. then returning to the sloping field, i beat the hedges that crossed it, but came across neither man nor beast. so at last there was nothing for it but to abandon the search, and take in the uncomfortable tidings to von lindheim, since there was no chance of hiding them from him, fritz being his favourite companion. both men were greatly perturbed. "don't let us alarm ourselves unnecessarily," i said. "poor fritz may have fallen a victim to one of his natural enemies--a boar from the forest. at the same time it might be wise for us to accept it as a sign of danger." for i had little doubt in my own mind that the unfortunate dog's death-wound had been given by no boar's tusk, but by a human hand. chapter xiii the stone sarcophagus fritz's death remained a mystery, at the solution of which we could only hazard various conjectures. but that it was a man's work i had little doubt. the death-wound in the throat was the clean stab of a knife or dagger. my idea was that the man, a spy, had been hiding in order to watch us, and being attacked by the dog had silenced him in the most effectual manner; then before i could follow, making his escape under cover of the nearest hedge, which would hide his retreat right down to the road, whence, if he thought it necessary, he could cross the river, and get off into the woods, when pursuit would be hopeless. but, whatever the explanation of the affair might be, it had happened so swiftly and so mysteriously as to cause a very uneasy feeling, a serious apprehension for my friends' lives, which i could not disguise from myself. now i was indeed beginning to realize the malignant tenacity of chancellor rallenstein. all the same, this fresh evidence rather braced my determination to outwit him. i gave up my long rides in the country round, and confined myself to walking about the grounds and the village, keeping a sharper look-out than ever. a very uncomfortable feeling is that of being secretly watched. and that we were under a stealthy observation we all instinctively felt. it is annoying, putting aside the danger, and it plays the devil by the nerves. to wake up in the morning with the feeling that your actions that day will have mysterious eyes upon them, governed and directed with an inscrutable and determined will, ah! it makes one pray for an open enemy. the tension was telling upon us; on me probably least of all, since i had the nerves of a steeplechase rider, and fresh air and exercise kept me fit. but i felt things could not go on indefinitely as they were. as the days and weeks wore on, rallenstein would scarcely be likely to rest content with merely keeping his marked-down quarry under observation. our staying on at schönval was simply waiting for the assassin's stroke that was being prepared. one side or other must force the situation. i therefore determined that we should risk it; but, as it turned out, the forcing came from the other side. i was walking near the village one afternoon, turning over certain plans in my mind, when i made a singular discovery. i ought to mention that the neighbourhood was rich in geological treasures. there had been, years before, a landslip, by which many hidden things of past ages had been brought to light. i had several times climbed about this region, more to explore its picturesque ruggedness than for any geological curiosity i possessed. on this day something prompted me to go through the landslip again. so i turned up the path behind the inn, which led along a wooded ascent to where the fissured rocks and tree-grown boulders lay in romantic confusion. at one point in the irregular acclivity there was placed at some twenty yards from the path an ancient stone sarcophagus, which had been unearthed at some time, and, its value being probably deemed less than the cost of removal, had been left there to form one of the attractions of the place, and, indirectly, of the inn below. i had passed this before, but had never taken the trouble to turn off the path in order to examine it more closely. the present and future had been too absorbing to let one care about the past. but now i did so. i stepped aside and strolled slowly towards the object of my curiosity. as i approached, to my astonishment a head appeared above the edge of the stone coffer, and a girl's laughing face turned a sort of petulant inquiry towards me. saturated as i was with mistrust, i hardly knew whether to be suspicious of this apparition or not. a village girl, perhaps, i thought, although she certainly did not look it. i resolved to find out. "i beg your pardon," i said in german. "i am sorry to have disturbed you, but i was about to examine this old object, not thinking any one was inside it." her smile deepened into a laugh. "how should you?" she replied. "it is the last place you would expect to find at least a living person in." i was german scholar enough to know that it was not her native tongue. she spoke it prettily, indeed, but ungrammatically, and with a foreign accent. "i won't disturb you," i said. "another day----" she had risen, stepped on to the ledge of the great coffin, and now jumped down on the ground beside me. "there! i won't disturb your scientific studies," she said. "you are english, are you not?" she added, in our language. "i am. like you." "am i?" "i think so." "a good guess." "hardly a guess. you could scarcely be anything else." "by my bad german, or something worse?" "by your good english." "and my bad style?" "not at all." i looked at her as she sat on the edge of the sarcophagus, kicking her feet to and fro and keeping her eyes quizzically on me. she seemed about nineteen; her manner rather older than that. it was sharp, and had a suggestion of a woman of the world. on the other hand, she was dressed quite girlishly; her skirt was short, she had on a simple straw hat with little trimming, and wore no ornaments save a plain gold bar fastening her collar. "i hope you are not going to let me frighten you away," she said roguishly. "i can easily find a more comfortable seat, and science must be before everything, as i know to my cost." "i cannot plead guilty to the charge of being scientific." "that's a comfort. why, then, do you want to examine this stupid old coffin? curiosity, eh? all tourists are so curious. they will go miles to see a thing abroad they would not cross the road to look at at home." "i cannot say that my curiosity has not been rewarded. although not quite satisfied." "how?" "i should like, if not asking too much, to know what made you choose that gruesome relic for a resting-place?" she looked at me queerly and laughed. "your curiosity shall be satisfied. in the first place, it is more comfortable than it looks." i wondered a little at that, but did not say so. "in the second place it is novel, in the third it is cool, and in the fourth it is a wholesome reminder, what i suppose you would call a _memento mori_." her voice had changed so with the unexpected conclusion that i looked up at her sharply. the roguery was now only flickering about her face, which was almost sad. "_memento mori!_ why, what have you to do with that?" "no more, perhaps, than the rest of the world. i might not have thought of it but for this." she tapped the sarcophagus. "but life is uncertain enough for us all, and--perhaps it was a fancy as i lay there to imagine myself in the place of him or her who occupied it hundreds, or, as my father will tell me, thousands of years ago; and then to think of a day that is coming." i had never before heard a girl talk like that, and no doubt my face showed it. "well," she continued, changing her tone, "that's enough of the doleful for one day. now tell me; are you staying here? at the inn? no?" "no. with friends. are you?" "we, my father and i, are staying at eisenhalm, about four miles off. we came over here to hammer at the landslip." "oh!" i confess i was fairly puzzled by this girl, and could not make up my mind whether to be suspicious of her or not. i thought i would wait and see what the father was like. "your father is scientific; a geologist?" "rather. i have been brought up on fossils and pliocene fragments. you can hardly wonder at my taking naturally to this stone coffin as a summer-house," she said wistfully. "science is very interesting and absorbing to a man who takes to it, but it is a horrible bore for his family. i am very, very dull, and my feelings towards this landslip are not fit to be expressed. of course you have heard of my father, professor seemarsh?" i recognized the name as one i had often seen in the papers. "yes; i know your father well by repute. he lectures at the royal institution, does he not?" "yes; you have heard him?" "i am ashamed to say no." "don't be ashamed. you may be a very creditable member of society and yet take no interest in old bones and old stones. father is an authority on the flint age. a boy once broke his study window with a stone, and he was delighted. it was a paleolithic remainder. nothing modern interests him in the very least. a knife and fork of to-day are to him an impertinence. don't you pity me?" "is the daughter of so celebrated a man to be pitied?" "ah, i suppose that's what every one thinks. and i do so want to move on from this stupid place, and there's no chance of it, because father has lighted on an interesting cleavage and suspects flint remains. five o'clock! he shall not grub any longer." she gave me an off-hand nod, and moved away towards the landslip. "may i come with you?" i asked. "i should like to see professor seemarsh at work." she made no objection, so we strolled on together, chatting on indifferent subjects. i fancy our talk was intermittent; anyhow, i know i was preoccupied with turning over in my mind the possibilities of this strange meeting. it was, in a way, natural enough; and yet something seemed to put me on my guard. that was due to the occurrences of the past fortnight and the danger we were hourly expecting to show itself. had it not been for these circumstances, i told myself, the meeting with this extraordinary girl would have been simply one of the queer episodes with which travel abounds. we had not far to go. fifty yards or so from the entrance to the landslip i heard the tapping of a hammer, guided by which i looked up and saw a man on his knees busily at work, and my companion sang out, "five o'clock, my flinty-hearted parent." professor seemarsh turned round, gave an answering wave of the hand, proceeding to collect his specimens into a canvas satchel which he slung on his shoulder, and then clambered down from the ledge on the fissured rock. i had told miss seemarsh my name, and she introduced us. naturally, i took keen notice of the professor. he was a learned-looking, untidy man of about fifty-five, with shaggy grey eyebrows and whitish hair, while his scrubby moustache and wisps of shaggy beard showed a lofty disregard for grooming. there was nothing remarkable in his face, except that behind his tinted spectacles the eyes seemed keen and restless. his dress was quite professional in its negligent absence of taste. a light tweed norfolk jacket, a crumpled buff waistcoat, dark grey trousers, and a weather-beaten soft felt hat were all in accordance with the best traditions of science. he bowed and shook hands jerkily, after the manner of men whose pursuits absorb them from society. he had a quick, short manner of speech as one who wishes to say what is necessary as soon as possible and then get to his work. "you are staying here? at the inn? wretched place, isn't it?" i told him. "ah, i know. house on the site of the old castle. must have been an interesting place. ruins still exist, i believe?" "yes; very fragmentary." he laughed. "i am used to fragments. they tell me all i want to know; though a mere sight-seer wants something more. you are scientific?" "i am afraid not." he drew in his breath sharply in pitying disappointment. "uth! well, you don't know what you miss. most fascinating this sort of thing." he waved his hand comprehensively towards the rocks. from behind him his daughter made a grimace at me. to save a smile, i hoped politely he had had a good day's work. "very fair. but i am only on the outer crust as yet. the great fascination of my work is that one never knows when one may not come upon a unique find. these," he took up a handful of fragments from his bag, "these are interesting, but they tell us nothing we did not know before. that," he tapped a piece with his finger nail, "is tertiary. that's curious, the indentation was certainly made ten thousand years ago. yes. i hope to come upon something better in a day or two." he threw them back, and buckled the satchel. i had never heard any one talk so fast and jerkily. it seemed as though all the words of each short sentence rushed out of his mouth at once. "well," he said, "we must say good-day. we have a long walk before us. my daughter has probably told you she is not geological. but being all day in the fresh air has set her up wonderfully. perhaps, if you are staying on here, we may meet again, and i may be privileged to try and bring you under the spell of science. by the way, are the ruins of the old castle shown to strangers?" it was rather an awkward question for me to answer without appearing churlish. i could hardly treat this man as a stranger. "my host, herr von lindheim, is very ill just now," i said, "but i am sure he would be glad for you to see them. perhaps in a few days when he is better. but there is really scarcely anything of interest to see." the professor smiled. "anyhow, my work will be here for some time to come. if i am disappointed in this, perhaps i may remind you of your kind words. the comparatively modern antique is so fast disappearing that one likes to see it while one can. goodbye. come, gertrude." he shook hands and went off. the girl, who had not spoken a word for some time, came up and gave me her hand in a shy manner, which was rather contradicted by a laugh in her eyes. "don't let father make you a geologist," she said archly. "there are quite enough of them in the world." then, without waiting for a word from me, she turned and ran after the professor, linked her arm in his, and so they went off down the winding path. chapter xiv the professor is maimed i went back and told my friends of the afternoon's incident. "i must confess to feeling a little doubtful about them," i said. "i can't make the girl out at all; she is a most queer young woman, but of course professor seemarsh is a well-known man in england." "you are sure you have heard of him?" szalay asked. "oh, yes. i know the name well. after all, it is quite likely that he would be grubbing about here for specimens. these scientific fellows know of every likely place in europe for a find." a day or two passed, and i saw no more of my new acquaintances, for the reason that i did not walk that way. miss seemarsh, it is true, rather provoked my curiosity by her strangeness, but not sufficiently to induce me to run after her. we had noticed nothing suspicious since the episode of poor fritz, and the strain of apprehending the enemy's next move was rather trying. one afternoon i thought i would stroll down to the landslip and see if the professor and his daughter were there. action of some sort seemed absolutely necessary to keep one's nerves in order; although we had determined to make a dash within the next few days. i had gone but a very short way towards the village when i saw coming towards me the pair whom i was going to seek. "hullo!" said i, "this is suspicious. what are they doing up here?" as they drew near i noticed that the professor carried his arm in a sling. "i am so glad we have met you," miss seemarsh exclaimed as we greeted each other. "my father has met with an accident. tumbled over one of his beloved rocks yesterday, cut his hand and sprained his wrist. so he cannot quarry in the landslip, poor dear. and as he absolutely refuses to lose a day and be idle, we were coming up to ask if we might see the ruins of the old castle." the request could hardly be refused, and we turned back together, in spite of a remonstrance on the professor's part that he was spoiling my walk, and that he could see all he wished without dragging me back. but it need hardly be said, i was not likely to fall in with that suggestion. "my work," the professor said, in his quick jerky way, "is not by any means the easy-going business most people think it. i am sometimes hanging in a cradle for hours over a chasm perhaps a thousand feet deep. the best places for finds are often the sides of a perpendicular wall, which can only be reached by a rope above. the worst bit of this slip is comparatively child's play, although not free from a degree of danger, as i have proved." we soon reached the house and had the professor at work on the walls of the old castle. "very interesting remains, very interesting," he commented. "of course your friend has a history of the old place? yes? i should like to see it." "these fragments do not tell you much?" "everything, up to a certain point. but scarcely the names and deeds of the early inhabitants." when the inspection was over, and there was not much to see, it seemed to me the height of inhospitality not to show some little civility to my own country folk. they had walked all the way from eisenhalm, and were going to walk back. one could hardly omit to ask them to come in and rest; as for the danger, my suspicions, vague enough, were fast evaporating. when i asked them to come indoors, the professor rather demurred. "your friend is ill, you say. we had better not disturb him. some other day, perhaps." but i felt constrained to press the invitation, and the professor yielded. the usual elaborate german tea was brought in, and i left the room to tell von lindheim of my visitors. he looked rather disquieted. "they are all right," i assured him. "he is a well-known english savant, as i told you. and after all, supposing he is not, what can these two do against us. come in. it will amuse you." he came in. the professor sympathetically inquired as to his health, and we sat for a good while chatting over our tea. some of the schönvalhof archives were produced to gratify our visitors' interest in the place. miss seemarsh asked all sorts of questions; how we liked being buried in the country, if we did not have many visitors to keep us in touch with the outer world, and how long we proposed to stay before returning to buyda. all these very natural questions were interspersed with naïve comments and comparisons between such a life and that of a london savant of many engagements and an unquenchable thirst for investigation. suddenly something appeared to have gone wrong with the professor's injured hand. he made an expression of pain, saying his wound had been troubling him for some little time. his daughter was full of a somewhat rueful solicitude. "oh, i do wish it would get well quickly," she half murmured to me. "it is a trial when father can't work. i would far rather it had been my own hand. father, hadn't you better let me dress it for you again? i have brought the ointment and the bandages in my pocket." she pulled out a little parcel. "if we might ask to have a little warm water taken into a dressing-room, gertrude might make things more comfortable for me," her father said, holding the arm as though in pain. i jumped up and said i would see to it myself. so accustomed to suspicion was i that my watch over my friends had become almost automatic. i led the way to a chamber, with a balcony commanding a lovely view across the valley. i left them and waited in the hall till they should come down. after a while it struck me that it would, perhaps, be as well to warn szalay that the strangers were near him. his room, where he spent most of his time, adjoined von lindheim's. we had done all we could to prevent his presence in the house being known to any one outside it, and i thought it just as well that he should keep close and not be seen even by these english people, who might be questioned by rallenstein's spies. so i ran quickly upstairs. when i reached the corridor leading to the principal bedrooms, i was rather surprised to see the door of the room in which i had left the seemarshes standing half-open. i knocked. no answer, i looked in; the room was empty. i went out to the head of the stairs; they were not to be seen. as i hurried along the corridor in search of them they came quickly round a corner and met me. "oh, there you are," cried the professor. "you can guide us back. we mistook the turning to the stairs and lost our way. what a labyrinth this house is." it was not quite easy to see how the way downstairs could have been missed. "i hope you are easier?" i said. "thank you, the fomentation and re-dressing have done wonders. it pains me very little now. i shall even hope to be at work on the slip again to-morrow. will you come and learn the rudiments of a delightful science? it is all i have to offer in return for your kindness, but to me it is much, and i think i dare promise to interest you. no, thank you, we can stay no longer. we have already trespassed too much on your friend's hospitality. now, shall we see you on the rocks to-morrow?" "yes, do come," the girl urged, and, more from curiosity than anything else, i promised. chapter xv a lesson in geology the next day was an eventful one. its horrors come vividly back to me in writing of it. the curiosity which took me down to the rocks to learn a smattering of geology was at least completely satisfied, and in a way which in my most distrustful moods i little dreamt of. in a very open state of mind, i went off to the rocks. i can hardly tell my reasons, but, intuitively perhaps, i was rather more suspicious of the geologist and his daughter than i thought well to acknowledge to my friends. i kept telling myself that it was absurd. here was a well-known english geologist taking a hard-working holiday after the manner of his kind. and yet--the vague and unaccountable doubt in my mind pricked on my curiosity, and made me impatient to exercise my penetration in resolving the doubt into certainty one way or other. i came upon miss seemarsh sitting in a sheltered cleft of the rocks high above the path, reading a yellow-back novel. she gave me a free and easy nod. "you will find my father a little way on," she shouted, "in the next opening, i think." i thanked her and went on. there was no difficulty in finding the professor, who was kneeling on an overhanging platform of rock, hard at work. i clambered up beside him and congratulated him on his evident recovery from the effects of his accident. "ah! still a little stiff and painful," he jerked, "but my holiday is drawing to a close, and i cannot afford to lose more time." "then you must not let me interrupt you," was my natural response. "oh, you are not in the way, my dear sir. in fact you can, if you will, be of help to me." i replied that i should be delighted if he would only show me how. he took up a fragment of rock. "you see these streaks, those veins? they indicate tertiary fossils. if you will hammer off some pieces and just put aside all those that have a similar marking i shall be glad." "here," he continued, as i expressed my readiness, "let me put you on to a likely place. there is not much use in our both working together; besides, it is dangerous, as chips fly off." accordingly he took me across to another group of rocks, where, after we had ascended a steep path, he set me to work on an overhanging shelf of the cliff. the wielding of a geologist's hammer, when one is not especially keen on the science, is apt after awhile to become a source of fatigue and boredom. i soon got pretty tired of my work, particularly as i came across nothing that looked at all interesting. however, i stuck to it mechanically. at the same time, it was not what i bargained for; i was learning nothing of geology, since the man who might have instructed me was some hundred and fifty yards away; consequently, there was not a great distinction between my occupation and that of a breaker of stones on the roadside--a proverbially unexciting employment. anyhow, my work was not so absorbing but that my mind had room for other thoughts. presently, in the midst of my hammering, it occurred to me--what if this setting me at stone-cracking should be but a trick to get me out of the way, and so leave the two men at schönvalhof defenceless? at the bare thought, i threw down my hammer, and had already run a considerable way down the sloping shelf, when the idea succeeded that i ran the risk of making a fool of myself. i stopped and listened. the sharp tap of the professor's hammer from beyond the next bluff reassured me. about to return to my task, i just stayed to listen to the hammer's fall once more. what i heard though, was a great dull thud, followed by a crackling noise from the rock high above where i was standing. then a terrific crash, as a great boulder came bounding down the rocky ledge towards me. my situation was of course absolutely frightful. escape was out of the question, with a wall of rock on one hand, sheer precipice on the other, and death, in the shape of tons of rock, crashing down the path to sweep me into eternity. happily, the whole occurrence was so momentary that i had hardly time to realize my awful danger before it was past. the great rushing mass was just upon me, when something, perhaps a projection from the rock or an unevenness in the path, gave it a slight outward bias. the result was, that before it came to me its course had begun to trend away from the wall; as it reached me, it was half over the edge on the other side, leaving a gap in which i stood unharmed; next instant it had overbalanced and gone down into the chasm, the noise of its fall reverberating in and out of the cliffs like thunder. i can remember standing there leaning against the rock half-dazed with the shock of my danger, for the moment hardly realizing it and my miraculous escape. when i had pulled myself together and could look round, a great gap in the piled-up rock above where i had been working showed me whence the mass had been dislodged. my sudden suspicion and panic had saved me, for had i remained up there i must have been crushed. indeed, had i been surprised a couple of paces higher up the path it would have been all over with me. i now made all haste to leave the dangerous spot; scrambled down to the ravine below, passed what came so near being the engine of my death, the huge boulder now resting peacefully enough on the bed of the chasm, and so round the next corner of the rock in search of the professor. it was rather surprising to me that i had not already seen him or his daughter hurrying to ascertain the result of the fall, which they must have heard. as i came out of the comparatively open space in front of the ridge, my surprise was increased by the sight of the father and daughter talking casually together. the professor was leaning in a careless attitude against a rock with what looked like a smile on his face; the girl stood by talking vehemently, it seemed, as i drew nearer, and he,--yes, i was sure of it--he laughed. so intent were they on whatever they were talking about, that neither noticed me till i was within fifty paces of them. it had further struck me as odd when the professor began carelessly to play with the hammer, throwing it from one hand to the other in a way that argued either great fortitude in a man wounded as he professed to be, or an amazingly rapid recovery. with a start he became aware of my approach. even at that distance i could see that his face changed curiously twice: once to an involuntary, then to what i was sure was an assumed expression. reading his looks the girl turned; her face also was a puzzle; startled at first, then relieved. the professor dropped his hammer and came forward with alacrity. "my dear mr. tyrrell," he exclaimed effusively, "glad to see you safe. that was a nasty fall, and we hardly dared wonder whether you had escaped. heaven be thanked, it is all right, or i should never have forgiven myself for putting you to work there. but it seemed to me safe enough." i was scarcely in the mood to take his fluent, if jerky, apologies in a very charitable spirit, particularly as i seemed to detect an indication of disappointment lurking beneath them; and my suspicion was rather strengthened by a sort of confused shame in the face of the girl, who said nothing. "you did not seem particularly anxious as to my fate," i could not help remarking. "but for my providentially having moved from the place where you set me to work i must have been killed." the professor now looked grave and concerned enough for anything. "tut, tut! is it possible! i shall never cease to regret having put you in such danger. i am so very, very sorry. believe me, i would have staked my reputation against the chance of such an occurrence." "i hope it will be a lesson to you, father," the girl said in a low voice. he gave a quick half-glance at her, and i caught under his glasses an expression which was not exactly remorseful. "it will be indeed," he exclaimed, shaking his head up and down. "it is frightful to think of what might have happened, my dear friend; what a merciful escape!" "anyhow," said i coldly, "it has taught me a lesson: not to run gratuitous risks, even in the name of science." "it is a mystery to me how that piece of cliff can have come down," he said, rather obviously ignoring my tone. "erosion would hardly account for it up there, and----" out of all patience i cut him short. "the scientific side does not interest me, and i take leave to doubt whether, had you stood in my place, it would have seemed of paramount importance to you. i fear we are hardly likely to take the same view of the affair, so i will wish you a good evening." the affair was perplexing enough; and the more my vague suspicions of the seemarshes advanced towards certainty, the greater puzzle did it become. but upon one thing i was resolved--to give them a wide berth in future. my narrow escape was not to be thought of without the irresistible suggestion of a sinister design. i, however, determined to keep my own counsel about it; von lindheim and szalay being nervous enough as it was. but neither the professor nor his daughter should be admitted into the house again if i could help it. such were my thoughts as i made my way from the rock valley to the village. the path, it will be remembered, descended upon and led past the inn. as i came round the corner of that house i happened, by the merest chance, to glance in at the window of the coffee-room. one man was in it, sitting half turned from the light, reading a newspaper. that casual glance sufficed for me to recognize him, then i sprang forward out of sight as he was about to look round. it was count furello. chapter xvi a blow is struck i was not greatly surprised to find the count in the village. the question which exercised my mind for the rest of the way to schönvalhof was whether he had any connexion with professor seemarsh. i should have liked to have kept watch upon the wily count, only it seemed much more necessary to lose no time in putting my friends on their guard, since the fellow's presence could mean nothing but danger. thinking over the events of that afternoon i was half inclined to acquit the professor of any sinister intention. the fall of rock might have been a pure accident, which no one could have foreseen: such displacements are of periodical occurrence, and chance had led me to the spot at one of the critical moments when nature's alarum was set to strike. as to the professor's apparent callousness, why--perhaps the conduct of hide-bound scientists was not to be judged by that of other men. in the interests of their pursuit they are inclined to hold life cheap, brute or human, their own or any one else's. so i had still an open mind as to the professor when i reached the house. i told the men of my having seen furello. they did not show as much alarm as might have been expected, having, perhaps, made up their minds to the worst. "it is always a relief in an affair of this sort when our opponent shows his hand. now that we are forewarned we can take our measures accordingly." "i suppose we may look for a visit from the count any minute now," von lindheim observed. "i wonder what his excuse for a call will be?" said szalay. "the jaguar's emissaries need little excuse," the other returned gloomily. "you had better leave _il conte_ to me," i suggested, "if he does call. you are too ill to receive him; and i will do my best to throw dust in his eyes. it is doubtful whether he knows that szalay is here." "the chancellor knows everything." "if he does it shall not be our fault. this amiable assassin will not see our friend if there is a hiding-place in the house." we discussed our plan of defence, and then, feeling a strong desire to keep watch upon the count, i went off again towards the village. avoiding the road i struck into a wooded path, keeping as much under cover as possible. it was well that i did so. when about half-way to the village i caught sight of a well-known figure crossing a field. furello. he was walking fast, hurrying it seemed, and smoking a cigar. from my screen within the fringe of a small wood i had a full view of him without the risk of being noticed. the ground he crossed was undulating. he ran down the little hills, and once or twice halted on the top of an ascent to look round. presently, when he had gone a safe distance, i came out of my shelter and followed him. knowing the country probably better than he, i was able to keep him in sight at no great distance, marking him from the other side of a straggling hedge. soon he came in view of von lindheim's house, peeping out from the trees on the hill above us. he stopped a few moments looking at it, then glanced round, made a peculiar gesture, perhaps of contempt, shaking his hand at the house, and hurried on. "he is going to the railway station," i said to myself, and so it proved. following him as closely as i dared, i was in time to see him get into a train and take his departure in the direction of buyda. "so far good," i exclaimed, turning back. "it is as well i saw my gentleman off, or we should have been worrying as to what had become of him. but what has he been doing here?" speculation on that head was manifestly futile. the two men were relieved to hear of his departure, although much exercised to know what agency he had left behind him. we dined and made ourselves as happy as our forebodings would allow. after dinner we opened a packet of newspapers which had arrived, and proceeded to post ourselves in the doings of the outside world. i was deep in a week-old _times_, when a sudden exclamation from von lindheim made me look up. "tyrrell!" he cried, "what, in heaven's name, does this mean?" "what?" "listen." he read from the paper as follows:-- "accident to an englishman on the alps. a party of englishmen were ascending the weisshorn on tuesday last. while attempting to scale a difficult peak, one of the party, who were roped together, lost his footing, and, the rope being slack, the shock of his fall was communicated with violence to the rest of his companions. the whole party fell a considerable distance, but happily were saved from going to certain death by the strenuous exertions of their two guides, jean koller and barthelmy reiss. one of the party was the well-known alpine climber, professor seemarsh, of london, who sustained a broken collar-bone." szalay and i had by a common impulse sprung to our feet. "professor seemarsh!" i snatched the paper and read the name for myself. "there is only one professor seemarsh. then who is this man?" von lindheim's answer was a hopeless shrug. "on tuesday last we know that professor seemarsh, the alpine climber, or the man who calls himself by that name, was here in this village, hundreds of miles away from the weisshorn. and whatever injury he may or may not have received, it is certainly not a broken collar-bone." "it is as i have suspected," szalay said gloomily. for some moments neither of us spoke. all my suspicions now came back as certainties, and i could properly appreciate the escape i had had that afternoon. von lindheim laughed grimly. "to think that we have had the scoundrel in this very house. it is a wonder i am yet alive. he did not come here for nothing, you may swear." "but for what?" "time will show, if we are only in a position to comprehend it." "let us at least be thankful," said i, "that chance has shown us our danger. we shall know our enemy now when we see him. you are right, lindheim, about the professor's accent. but we must confess they played their parts well. the girl! what a life! no wonder she occasionally breaks out into cynical bitterness that is almost startling." reviewing the conduct of the _soi-disants_ seemarshes, i now related how they had roused my suspicions when they pretended to have missed their way upstairs. szalay, as he listened, looked uncomfortable, almost terrified. "that accounts," said he blankly, "for something which happened yesterday, and which i could not make out at the time. i was sitting in my room reading when the door suddenly opened. naturally, i turned quickly to see who it was, but as i did so it was shut quickly again, not so quickly, though, but that i fancied i had caught a glimpse of a woman's dress. imagining it had been frau pabst i thought little more of the matter, but now i know--it must have been that girl spy, and my whereabouts is no longer a secret." "then the sooner we make a move from here the better," said von lindheim. "it is sheer madness to stay waiting the assassin's blow. to-morrow morning--tyrrell, will you come with us?" of course i would. we sat up late arranging our plans and making preparations for our journey. our idea was to make, at all hazards, a rush for the frontier. the plan at the best was full of danger, but at least it was no worse than staying where we were, marked down by these secret enemies. anyhow, it meant action, relief from the strain of suspense, which was becoming intolerable. so we laid our plans for the morrow, little dreaming with all our apprehensions what the night would bring forth. it was past midnight when we turned in, having had much to do in preparing for an early setting out to run the gauntlet of rallenstein's myrmidons. exciting as the day's events had been, i lay but a short time, being pretty tired, before going off into a sound sleep; to be awoke with a start, having a confused idea of a cry in my ears. it was just growing light. hardly had i collected my faculties when the cry rang again through the house, again and again, kept up in a series of screams of terror. i sprang out of bed, snatching up my revolver. before i could reach the door i heard von lindheim's voice calling my name. shouting "all right!" i dashed along the passage to his room, which was divided only by a small dressing-room from szalay's. i met von lindheim at the door. "what is wrong?" i cried. he was in a terrible state of excitement. "szalay," was all he could gasp. "take me away before i go mad." the poor fellow, i could see, was beside himself with something worse than fear. a strange noise came from szalay's room, a horrible, inarticulate sound of a man struggling, as it were, to call out something. thinking he was being strangled, i rushed in with my revolver ready. to my astonishment he was alone, standing in the middle of the room, but so horribly altered that i hardly recognized him as the same man to whom i had bidden good-night a few hours before. his face was distorted, its colour changed, the sanguine, ruddy complexion being now a dark grey; the features seemed bloated, and the eyes glared with almost maniacal terror. the aspect of our poor friend was so appalling that the sight seemed to take all the strength from me as i stood before him under the thrill of this hideous experience. i would far rather have found the room full of armed cut-throats than containing this solitary pitiable victim. "szalay!" i cried at length. "what has happened?" as he tried to answer a spasm seemed to catch his throat. he pointed with an unnatural, mad gesture to the open window, trying to talk, but the power of enunciation had failed him, he could produce only inarticulate gibberish. he threw up his hands in despair and shrieked again. i seemed to catch the words, "dead man! dead man!" then he rushed to the looking-glass. at the reflection of his face he recoiled with a scream, and flung himself prone on the bed. i went to the door and found von lindheim outside. "what is this fearful thing? what has happened to him?" i asked. he shook his head. "i know no more than you," he said in a frightened whisper. "i heard him shriek, rushed in and saw"--he shuddered--"what you have seen. those devils have got in and have done for him." "you saw no one?" "no. but they will come. they are here, tyrrell. i am going to put a bullet through my brain. it is better than that." "don't be a fool," i said, and went back into the room. szalay was lying as i had left him. i spoke his name, but he returned no answer, made no movement. nerving myself, i went up and lifted the outstretched arm. it was heavy and lifeless. i felt for the pulse; there was none. then i went back to von lindheim and told him: "he is dead." chapter xvii the jaguar's den i spent the ensuing hours in reasoning with von lindheim against his panic, and endeavouring to instil hope into him. naturally, under circumstances which would have shaken the strongest nerves, it was not easy, but at length i succeeded in calming him, and he seemed to take a sufficiently resolute view of the situation to bring himself to discuss the best plan for relieving it. i now determined to postpone our flight for a day, while i would go to buyda, see the chancellor, and remonstrate with him, pointing out how unnecessary and cruel these devilish precautions were. accordingly, having made von lindheim promise to do nothing rash in my absence, i had a horse saddled, and after an early breakfast rode off to buyda, choosing that mode of travel rather than the railway, as being calculated to give any spies less indication of a prolonged journey. i have often wondered since at my temerity in bearding the jaguar in his den; but in those days i was strong and confident; even the ghastly business in the midst of which chance had thrown me had hardly shaken my nerves, and then, again, i did not imagine myself to be in such danger as the sequel showed to be the case. the morning was fair and bright after an early shower, and as i rode along with a winding sparkling river below me on the one hand, and the dark blue masses of pine-clad hills on the other, i could not help contrasting nature's tranquil beauty with the hideousness of man's cruelty. an old theme, but one that appealed to me very strongly that summer morning. i arrived at buyda before mid-day, and leaving my horse at the hotel made my way straight to the chancellor's quarters in the palace. having sent up my name with a request to have an audience of him on urgent business, a message was brought back that his excellency was with the king, but that he would be happy to see me at a later hour in the afternoon. so i went back to the hotel and lunched. afterwards, as i was preparing to go out for a stroll in the city to kill time, a precautionary measure occurred to me, which i proceeded to put into practice. i wrote down certain particulars, sealed them in an envelope, and then went to the office of the british consul, with whom i had already a slight acquaintance. he was a very much bored man, for whom even the pleasantest side of life in buyda had ceased to have any charm, and he was evidently, as a relief from the monotony, glad to see me. "i am going to leave this letter with you, mr. turnour," i said. "if i don't come back or send for it before to-morrow morning, open it." he opened his eyes. "and what then?" "it will explain itself." "my dear fellow," he said rather anxiously, "i hope you are not going to do anything rash, run into any danger." i laughed. "i am not going to leave buyda, if i can help it, before i come back for that letter." "no?" "no. what danger should there be here?" "none to a british subject," he answered guardedly. "all the same, queer things do happen sometimes." "under the enlightened rule of chancellor rallenstein?" he looked grave, and as though he would like to say more to me than he dared. "rallenstein is a strong man; one of the strongest brains in europe, and"--he sank his voice--"he is not credited with an excess of scruples." i refrained from looking as though i could illustrate that opinion in highly coloured fashion, and rose to go. turnour was a weak man--a good official, but a machine. certainly not the man to take into an appalling confidence. "all right," i said. "i'll take care of myself. only, a stranger in an out-of-the-way place like this is easily lost sight of and never missed. i shall, no doubt, come back for that letter to-night." he locked it in a drawer, and after a few commonplaces i left him and went back through the city towards the palace. the place was busy and gay as usual; people get used to living under the very frown of a despotic government as at the foot of a volcano. at the hour appointed, i was ushered into rallenstein's presence. he received me with a smile which might almost be called genial, and apologized for having had to ask me to postpone my audience. "you have been in the country, herr tyrrell, _nicht wahr_? you are looking well. englishmen thrive best away from town life." i wondered if there was a covert meaning in that. "now," he added pleasantly, "how can i have the pleasure of serving you?" "i have come from herr von lindheim." "ah, yes?" there was simply polite interest in his look and tone. the heavy face gave no evil sign as i spoke the name. "not as an ambassador from him, but entirely on my own initiative." "yes?" the tone was still polite, now almost verging towards boredom. "von lindheim," i said, "is in fear of his life." the thick eyebrows rose incredulously. "in fear of his life?" i felt the man's power of will and character, and determined to stand up against it. "and with reason," i continued. "your excellency will, i am sure, not blame him for such a fancy when i tell you that within the last few days two colleagues of his have been secretly assassinated, and his own life has been attempted." the face i was watching gave an incredulous frown. "my dear herr tyrrell, this is an extraordinary and astounding statement of yours. two of herr von lindheim's colleagues assassinated and his life attempted! you can scarcely expect me to credit that." "and yet," i rejoined boldly, "your excellency should know these facts better than i." at last a great gust swept over the mobile face. "what do you mean, sir?" he demanded, with a show of restrained displeasure. "only, that as both these gentlemen, these victims, had the honour to be attached to your excellency's bureau, you should be better informed of their fate than i." "i am, naturally, well aware," he replied, "that herr d'urban was accidentally drowned the other day while boating, but," he added with a smile, "it can hardly be pretended that our service, advantageous as i venture to claim it is, confers immortality." i returned his smile. "rather the reverse just now, herr chancellor. the secretary szalay also has died suddenly." "from natural causes?" "i wish i could think so." "you suggest foul play?" "i fear i must." he laughed indulgently. "really, herr tyrrell, i have always given an englishman credit for being the incarnation of common sense." "i hope i am not less sensible than the average of my countrymen. and that quality would certainly lead me to the conclusion that foul play is at work." he bowed, still sneeringly indulgent. "perhaps you can suggest a motive." "simply that these unfortunate men are supposed to have knowledge of a dangerous secret." he raised his eyebrows in contemptuous surprise. "mr. tyrrell, this is too absurd! you can hardly suggest or expect me to entertain such an inference seriously." "it is a strange coincidence." "if you had studied our german philosophers you would have ceased to find anything strange in mere coincidence." "perhaps so. it would need, however, a great deal of philosophy to refute my theory of foul play." i began to understand the rampart of polite incredulity behind which rallenstein had entrenched himself, and how hopeless it was for me either to break through or entice him from it. nevertheless, i continued: "there is no doubt that an attempt was made to kill herr von lindheim by poison." "you have proof?" the question was put almost carelessly, with just as much show of interest as politeness demanded. "the proof of my own eyes." "not always the most trustworthy witnesses," he observed, with his cynical smile. "your excellency," i said, "seems determined not to be interested in what has happened. so be it. my purpose in coming here to-day was to assure you of herr von lindheim's loyalty, and to beg you to use your authority to put a stop to the attempts against his life." "you would seem to imply, sir," he replied, stroking his face with his hand, "that these attempts which you allege have a political motive." "assuredly." "it is too ridiculous," he said, as though to himself. "my good sir, you have found a mare's nest." i leaned forward. "excellency," i said earnestly, "can we not come to an understanding? i make no accusations, i seek to know nothing; my interference is merely forced upon me by pity and a desire to clear up a misunderstanding. i ask you to remove this cloud of danger hanging over herr von lindheim's head. you can do it if you will, and i can assure you you will not repent it." if i thought my entreaty would move him i was mistaken. i might as well have pleaded with the bronze statue of a warrior king that stood in the corner behind him. he waved me back. "your appeal involves an accusation which i utterly repudiate. you are a foreigner, herr tyrrell, and therefore i have heard you with an indulgence which your suggestion scarcely deserves. to ask me to give a pledge against a chimerical danger is more than absurd. i do not wish to make use of strong language, or i might point out in such that the object of your visit might easily be construed into a flagrant insult to his majesty whose humble adviser i have the honour to be. if i might offer you a word of advice, it would be that so long as you choose to avail yourself of the hospitality of this country you should devote your time to sport or pleasure, and avoid mixing yourself up in affairs which do not concern you. even were this monstrous suggestion of yours in any way true, the interference of an outsider could serve no tangible end. you will do well to consider your position in the light of that common sense which is, i believe, the birthright of most englishmen. that is all." i rose. "i have then no comforting assurance to take herr von lindheim, excellency?" "herr von lindheim's life is in no more danger than your own." a delphic pronouncement truly! "i have no fear of that," i laughed. "and yet," he rejoined, fox-like, "if your veiled accusations were correct, you might stand in some danger yourself." the speech was tentative. i saw that, and determined not to be led into any admission. "i have no fear," i said, "and can take care of myself." "you are a bold man." "to have come here?" he laughed. and i understood better than ever why he was called the jaguar. though the flesh of the lower part of his face was loose and mobile, the skin over his forehead was drawn tight, his eyes were feline, and the lines of his mouth cruel. but when it suited him to put on a pleasant expression the stealthy cruelty of the face in a measure disappeared. now there was the look it had worn glaring through the window at that fatal marriage, the look that had bent over the murdered bridegroom's face. but i maintained my dogged resolve not to be overawed by the man or the devil within him. "my confidence in coming here," i answered coolly, "is due less to courage than the fact that i have left a letter, containing word of my intention, together with several other pertinent matters, in the hands of a friend whom i can trust, and who will open it at a certain hour unless i am there to prevent him." my words amounted almost to a threat, at least, to a defiance, and the look they called up into his excellency's eyes was not a pleasant one. but he showed no other sign of annoyance; on the contrary, his next words were almost jocular. "i trust, herr tyrrell, that you will take great care to avoid all accidents. for if anything should unfortunately happen to you while we have the honour to include you among our country's guests, i take it that the responsibility--or worse--of such misfortune would be laid at our door. so i do hope you will take care of yourself, my dear herr tyrrell." "i will do my best," i replied, bowing, and moving towards the door. i turned as he spoke again. the man looked genial enough now; the evil print on the face was smoothed over, the lines of cunning no longer made the rest stand out in relief. "and so far as your friend's fears are concerned," he said, "you may take him my assurance that they are groundless. herr von lindheim is doubtless out of health, his nerves are unstrung. he needs a holiday; he may take one." "i have your assurance, excellency?" "you have my assurance. i trust you will both be careful." he half rose to return my bow, smiling, though it seemed, from my last glance, that the smile was growing more feline and sinister. there was no more to be hoped for or said, and i left him. chapter xviii a word of warning i walked along the königstrasse, the principal street of buyda, reflecting on my interview, and wondering how far i could trust the assurance of the chancellor's last words. his was one of those complex characters, so hopelessly difficult to understand, that i felt it an even chance whether his word was to be trusted or disbelieved. anyhow, i persuaded myself that my visit had done no harm, and there was just the likelihood that his purpose might relax with regard to von lindheim. how far i was justified in this idea the sequel will show. but chance certainly made the journey to buyda one of the most momentous of my life. my reflections were interrupted by a man who came quickly up from behind, touched his hat and addressed me. a man in livery. he said that the baroness fornbach would like to speak to me. she was in her carriage a few yards down on the other side of the street. after a moment's hesitation i followed the man. if i had my doubts and suspicions about the baroness i was yet somewhat inclined, remembering her half confidences on the evening i had supped with her, to try whether i could get any information from her about the chancellor. at the same time i resolved to walk warily. the baroness gave me a friendly greeting, asked as to my plans, where i had been, how long my stay in buyda was to last, and on learning of my immediate departure insisted on my accompanying her home for a cup of tea. as there was not much chance of my learning anything important in the open street and in the presence of a lady who was with her, i accepted the invitation and got into the carriage. "i don't care for tea, but shall be delighted to have half an hour's chat with you," i said. "that's well. i know you english are faddy about spoiling your dinners," she returned with a laugh as we drove off. after tea the baroness's companion disappeared, and i was free to begin my questions. as to whether they would be satisfactorily answered or not i was doubtful, but anyhow i would make the attempt. "i am interested and puzzled by the fate of that poor fellow von orsova, whom i was to have met the very evening of his death. can you throw any light upon it, baroness? in the country one hears nothing but bare facts." affecting to speak more or less carelessly i was watching her narrowly, and saw that at my question she "clinched" a little. all that was meant for me to see, however, was a shrug as she answered: "who knows? no one precisely. but we all guess. a love affair is the most natural solution." "with whom?" she laughed. "my dear herr tyrrell, you know as much as i do." "of course, baroness, if you choose to play the sphinx----" "it is safest." "can you not trust me?" she smiled, this time a little bitterly. "i have long ago ceased to trust anybody. but, really, and truly, i know no more than you." i bowed. "you shall not tell me a word more than you wish, only-----" "you are as curious as a woman." "curious? no. my feeling was more serious than that. let me tell you our friend von lindheim is concerned at the deaths that have occurred among the staff of the chancellerie." "naturally. they were friends of his." "not only that. he fears a like fate may strike him." "his nerves are upset. he has been ill, has he not?" "he is lucky to have been no worse," i said cautiously. "he has never imbued you with his fears?" she asked in a tone of raillery. "not for myself, but for him. i have seen the chancellor to-day." "yes." "ah!" thought i, watching her, "that is no news to you. he assures me," i continued, "that von lindheim's fears are groundless." "good! then you are satisfied?" i leant forward. "baroness, tell me frankly. do you think i may be satisfied?" she lay back, and took up a small fan from the table at her hand. "how can i tell? why do you ask me? can i guarantee his excellency's word?" "you may be my friend in this place where i have no friends, and advise me." a peculiar expression came over her face, a look that i cannot describe, a look of inexpressible bitterness and regret, struggling as it were to get through the mask which her part obliged her to wear. "i?" "you, baroness," i said significantly. "i hope i am always your friend," she replied. "and as a friend your advice is----" "i have none to give--on that subject." "what then?" she looked swiftly, almost fearfully, round the room. she was holding the little black fan--i see her now--tightly in her clenched hands. she threw it down, and clasped her hands over her knees, leaning forward and speaking in her usual tone, but as low as a whisper. "my advice to you, herr tyrrell, is to leave this country. you may be safe as yet. but you have been ill-advised in interesting yourself in other men's affairs. we are under an iron will here, and it makes sure." "you brought me here to tell me that?" to my intense surprise her eyes filled with tears. she looked away. "don't ask me that, don't ask me that," she returned passionately, but always in a low voice. "be thankful that you are free to go, and pity us who are not." she put her handkerchief to her eyes. i rose, and stood leaning my elbow on the mantelpiece. there was silence; a little clock by me chimed six. then i said: "i am sorry to have asked you a distressing question. the more that it was perhaps unnecessary. for i know----" she rose quickly, stopping me by a gesture of her outstretched hand. "don't tell me! don't tell me!" she cried under her breath. "say you know nothing. your life may depend upon it." "baroness!" i cried, almost appalled as i realized the truth of her position. "i trust you," she went on with the same vehemence, intensified by the restraint she put upon her voice, "for i know you can be staunch and true; you are as far above all the tricks and treachery in which we live here as heaven from hell--i trust you, englishman, with my life. yes. for if it were known that i had spoken to you like this i should share the fate of asta von winterstein." i started. "asta von winterstein?" of course i remembered the girl, the favourite maid of honour to the princess, and my fascinating partner at the state ball. she, naturally, had been in the secret, and when i recalled that lovely animated face, the girl's merry laugh and overflowing spirits, i shuddered. "has anything happened to her?" i scarcely dared put the question. the baroness looked at me in surprise. she was quite herself now, and spoke with her usual calm. "have you not heard? it was in the papers. fräulein von winterstein was returning after dark from an excursion to salenberg. the coachman missed his way, and overturned the carriage in the narrow pass above the river. it fell down the steep side into the water. the driver threw himself off the box and escaped by a miracle, but poor asta went to her death." her tone was quite impassive, as she would have related the occurrence at a dinner party. i felt a sensation almost of horror at the deliberate methods of this man-tiger, rallenstein. "horrible! horrible!" "i believe the poor girl's body has not yet been recovered," she continued with the same repression of all feeling which i could well understand and sympathize with. "the river is deep and swift in that gorge, and she may have been carried down for miles. her mother is almost distracted, her father, general von winterstein, is abroad, and the news will hardly have reached him. poor man! he can do nothing." as she spoke the last words she looked at me significantly. we understood each other. no more was needed. "you may trust me," i said in a low voice. her hand touched mine. i was about to raise it to my lips when she snatched it away. "hush!" she murmured warningly. the door opened, and the other lady came in. "count furello is here, my dear. i thought i would tell you." the announcement was made in such a curious manner that i turned inquiringly to the baroness. she gave just the suggestion of a shake of the head, and i barely caught the whisper, "go, as soon as you can." next moment the count was shown in. chapter xix the fan count furello came in with a bow, then, advancing, bent low over the baroness's hand. "this is a surprise, count," she said, quite herself again. "we heard you were away from buyda." "i have been travelling, and am here only till to-morrow. but i could not pass through without paying my respects to the baroness fornbach." when he spoke the tightly stretched lips drew away, leaving the abnormally white teeth bare. he was most polite, but not pretty. he then turned and bowed ceremoniously to me, apparently quite aware of my presence, although he had not seemed to look in my direction. "you are still in buyda, mr. tyrrell. we had an idea you had left us." "for a time," i replied lightly. "as becomes a wandering devotee of sport." "sport! and you leave england?" "for change." "ah! like so many of your countrymen you are hard to satisfy. you would rather go far and fare worse than stay at home. well, enterprise at the possible expense of comfort is admirable. dare one conclude that our city here temporarily pleases you?" i looked at him sharply, uncertain whether his speech was mere polite small-talk or covert sarcasm. not that i cared, except so far as it interested me to note the various phases of the man's character. the peculiar expression of his face made a perfect mask, far harder to see through even than rallenstein's impassiveness. there was, perhaps, the gleam of a sneer in the eyes--those unruly tell-tales, ever ready to contradict our words and betray us. but i was not certain, and answered simply: "yes, i enjoyed a few weeks' sojourn in buyda extremely. for the last week or two i have been staying a short way out in the country with a friend." count furello bowed in acknowledgment, as it were, of a piece of information which did not interest him deeply enough for words. "you have not come, then, from the geierthal, count?" the baroness inquired. "no; i have been travelling. i hope to return home to-morrow." travelling! on the devil's business, indeed. the baroness turned to me. "count furello has a most picturesque home, an ancient monastery on an island, and in most lovely country." the teeth gleamed. "scarcely on an island, _gnädige baronin_," he objected deferentially, "although practically it is so. the moat surrounding the monastery has overflowed and enlarged itself to such an extent that the building seems to stand on an island in the midst of a lake." "a very charming spot," the other lady observed. "is it far from here?" i asked, affecting less interest than i felt. "about forty miles." i rose to take my leave. the baroness gave me a little significant pressure of the hand, which i understood and returned. "i should be charmed to show herr tyrrell the hospitality of the geierthal, and to afford him a few days' sport," the count said, a little stiffly and half-heartedly, it seemed, for the man of such exuberant politeness. "we shall have a fair amount of game; but unfortunately just now i am only at home for a day on the business of my estate. if herr tyrrell could honour me in perhaps a month or two's time, it would be all that i could wish." "i fear i shall have resumed my travels," i replied. "if i had been going to make a longer stay in your country, i should have been delighted." "i regret," said he, bowing again, "that my enforced absence from home deprives me of so great a pleasure." his manner was becoming almost oppressive; indeed, i was relieved when i had closed the door between us. nothing else had passed between the baroness and me; it was evident, that she regarded the count as an object of fear; indeed, it could hardly have been otherwise. * * * * * time had slipped away, and the summer evening was advanced when i turned towards my hotel. as it promised to be a fine moonlight night, i, after some hesitation, determined to dine at once and ride out afterwards to schönval. while waiting for dinner, i got into conversation with mine host, a bustling, talkative fellow. i was not much in the humour for the chatter of the man in the street, still, it was rather a relief after the strain of the afternoon's critical fencing. presently i asked him, the matter being uppermost in my mind, about the drowning of fräulein von winterstein, and whether the body had been found. "no," he said, "although they are searching the river for miles. but the task is not so easy, mein herr. there are known to be great rocks in that part of the river's bed--the country is rocky there--and what so likely as that the poor lady, falling from that height, never rose again, but was swept by the strong current under one of those rocks, where she may lie till the day of judgment. well, it is a mystery we cannot understand--the chances of life and death. a greatly admired lady, mein herr, young, beautiful, with a long and happy life before her, as we might think, one hour, and in the next gone in a moment into eternity, no trace left, as one might say, to show she had ever existed. it is a great enigma, mein herr, and, if you please, your dinner is ready." the solution of the enigma which i thought i held was not calculated to add relish to the meal. i made a bad dinner; the bustle of the room only accentuating the contrast of the commonplace life with its sinister background. i lighted a cigar, and ordered my horse to be brought round in ten minutes' time. then, and only then, for other thoughts had been all-absorbing, i remembered the letter i had left with the consul. "what a fool i am!" i exclaimed. "in another minute i should have gone off and forgotten that, probably remembered it towards my journey's end, and had to ride back for fear of complications." so i sent word to have my horse kept in the stable against my return, and went off on foot to the consul's. he seemed rather relieved to see me, or, perhaps at not having to act on my instructions. "you have called for your letter? i wondered how soon you would come back for it." he unlocked the drawer and gave it me. "i dare say you are glad to get rid of it. don't think me eccentric, only i fancied i might be going to run a certain risk this afternoon, and the fact that word of my whereabouts had been left with you might have been a trump card to play." turnour gave me a look of comprehension. "won't you stay and smoke a cigar with me?" "no, thank you. i would, but am riding back to schönval to-night." he looked surprised. "a long ride." "and a lovely night. i shall enjoy it. by the way, turnour, do you know anything of count furello?" he looked curiously at me and laughed gently. "you are not riding with him?" "oh, no. why?" "nothing. he is a naturalized german. his father was an impecunious italian count, who came to these parts fortune hunting, and married a native heiress; at least, so we've heard. he has an estate in the geierthal." "yes, i know. anything more?" "nothing, except that he is a great friend, some say"--he lowered his voice--"some say a creature, an _âme damnée_ of rallenstein's." "ah! that's everything. i guessed as much. he is rather a character," i said guardedly. "h'm! yes. i don't presume to offer you advice, but were i in your place, i should not get too thick with _il conte_." i nodded, thanked him, and went off. i have often wondered since at the reality of the fate or providence which ordained that i should forget that letter till the last minute before my intended start. at the moment i was annoyed at having let it slip my memory, and so omitted to utilize in fetching it the time i wasted in waiting for dinner. and yet, had i done so, i should have missed the extraordinary series of adventures, and something more, which that chance forgetfulness threw in my way. for as i was retracing my steps from the consul's house to my hotel, a most startling thing happened. it was now dark. the purely residential streets of the city were more or less deserted, and the houses closed for the night. i walked through a square and into a tree-lined street of old houses leading out of it in the direction of the königstrasse. i hardly know what made me stop, hesitate and cross the road at a particular point about midway up the street. my mind was busy with thoughts and plans, and my steps seem to have taken me across the road mechanically, without any definite design. but considering the consequences of that trivial act, i have always set it down to something stronger and more occult than mere chance. i remember casually noticing that the house towards which i crossed was lighted up, one of the first floor windows was open, and from it came the sound of a pianoforte. as i reached the kerb i was startled from my thoughts by an object which fell with a sharp click upon the pavement at my feet. a small white fan. i picked it up and looked round. no one was near. then up at the house before which i was standing. there was nothing to be seen at the windows to indicate where the fan had dropped from; no shadow on the blinds, no movement to be seen within. stepping back to look up, i noticed that one of the top windows was half-open, but there seemed no light in the room, and no sign of any one there. then i looked at the fan in my hand. a plain but good one of white silk with ivory ribs. too good at least to admit the suggestion that it had been deliberately thrown away as worthless. it had evidently been accidentally dropped out of the window, and i stood there momentarily expecting the door to open and a servant to come out and seek it. but no one came; so, after waiting awhile, i went up to the door, and rang. standing there ready to give in the fan with a word of explanation, i began to open and shut it carelessly, as, when waiting, one will fidget with the thing nearest to one's hand. as in doing this, the light from above the door fell upon it, my casual glance was arrested by something i had not noticed before. there was pencilled writing across the fan. as i turned and held it up closer to read the words, footsteps sounded within, and i had scarcely made out the purport of the writing when the door opened. simultaneously by a quick movement i closed the fan and dropped my hand, so that it was hidden behind me. "does herr steinmetz live here?" i stammered, using the first name that came to my tongue. "no, mein herr," the servant answered, a dark, disagreeable-looking fellow, i thought, holding the door but a little way open and regarding me with manifest suspicion. "you do not know which is the number? no? thank you. i am sorry to have troubled you." next moment the door was shut with a slam and i was walking away down the street. at the second lamp i stopped, then took out the fan to read the words more carefully. they were these, scribbled as though in haste: "i am in danger of my life. help me. asta von winterstein." chapter xx the living dead asta von winterstein! i wondered for a moment whether i was not dreaming. i read the words over twice again, searched the fan for others, and finding none, thrust it into my pocket. then i went back to the house, crossing the road the better to survey it from the other side of the street. asta von winterstein! but she was dead, killed in that premeditated accident on the salenberg road. or, perhaps, was this another trick of the chancellor's, and was she alive after all? or had the attempt failed, and in place of the merciful swiftness of that rush into eternity had she escaped to endure the longer agony of the fear of a death sure, yet uncertain as to its time and manner? i knew well enough from szalay's and lindheim's cases what that meant. i could believe anything of rallenstein the jaguar, anything. nothing could surprise me, nothing seemed improbable. i walked quickly along the street till i came to the portico of a great house at the end. here, sheltered from observation, i took out the fan and re-read the fateful sentence. it fascinated me. i could not keep my eyes from it. the poor girl's face and form came back to my mind, vividly, now, as i had seen her at the dance. i hardly dared to think of the unspeakable agony that house might enclose. what could i do? i was worse than helpless; a stranger, in a country where the government was a law unto itself. i went back to the house, looking eagerly for a sign that i might act upon. no one was to be seen at any of the windows, though the piano still sounded. ugh! it set my teeth on edge. a waltz was being played softly; a dance of death, indeed! i walked up and down the street, not knowing what to do; realizing my utter helplessness, yet without being able to leave the spot. since that night i have often thought how foolish it was of me thus to court suspicion, but at the time the horror i felt made me too reckless to care for that. presently as i passed there was a movement to be seen within the lighted-up room. a shadow came between the light and the window. then the light was extinguished. i took my stand in the obscurity of a doorway and watched. the blind was drawn aside, then a figure appeared, a man, the fellow who had opened the door to me. he shut the window, withdrew, and all was darkness and silence, for the light in the hall was out. i waited a while in my new position with my eyes fixed on the top window, whence it seemed the fan had been thrown out; but nothing rewarded my watch. it was getting late. in spite of the alarm my absence would cause von lindheim i determined to stay the night in buyda. i could not bring myself to ride away, disregarding that appeal, though it was manifest how little it was in my power to arrest the approaching tragedy. i quitted my corner and made my way with all speed to the hotel. "i have changed my mind, i stay here to-night," i said to the landlord. "it may be some time yet before i turn in, but have a room ready for me." then i went round to the stables, and by the dim light of a lantern saw a fellow asleep on some sacks in a corner. i was proceeding to rouse him when i saw that he was in livery; the coachman, possibly, of some other guest. a pair of great black carriage horses stood in the stalls beside my nag. the harness was on them; they were evidently going out again that night. i don't know what roused my curiosity and induced me to look closer. on the harness was a device, a coronet, and, underneath, a cypher, g. f. i went out into the yard. a roomy carriage stood under a shelter. striking a match i examined the panels. on them was emblazoned a coat of arms, with the same coronet above and the same cypher below. footsteps sounded on the cobbles of the yard. it was the ostler. i told him i should not want my horse that night; i was sorry to have kept him up. "oh," he said, "mein herr, there is no bed for me yet. a gentleman's carriage going out at midnight." "ah! the horses i saw in the stable just now. they are splendid animals. whom do they belong to?" "to the count furello, mein herr," the man answered with the importance of his kind over a distinguished customer. somehow i was prepared for the answer. "the count travels late." "yes, mein herr." he moved off towards the stables and i let him go, judging there was not much information to be got out of him. but i resolved to try what under the circumstances was a pardonable piece of eavesdropping; so, after a feint of going into the hotel, i crept back and placed myself outside the stable window. the ostler had evidently roused the sleeping coachman, and they were now rallying one another with rough pleasantry. presently, "it's all the bed i shall get this night," the sleepy coachman exclaimed with a yawn. "five hours' hard driving to-day with scarce a minute for a schoppen of beer. our herr bleisst can play the devil when he chooses, and the herr graf too." "he drives at the devil's time, truly," the ostler laughed. "midnight, through the woods. poor carl! i shall remember you when i am snug in bed. ah! you will be ready for breakfast when you reach the geierthal to-morrow morning." they said nothing more to which i could attach any importance, but i had heard enough. it was only natural that i should connect this midnight journey with the message on the fan. one thing struck me as being particularly significant. at the baroness's house that afternoon, count furello had said that he was going to his home in the geierthal; but why was he travelling at night and by road? according to his coachman, his carriage had posted up from the geierthal that morning, with such haste as hardly to give the man time to get refreshment. that circumstance, coupled with what i knew of the count, enabled me to conceive a likely idea of what was going on. i went into the hotel, had some supper, and at half-past eleven was back in the gloomy street, which i found was called the neckarstrasse. the house was dark and silent as i left it. i lighted a cigar and walked up and down, waiting for midnight, when i felt sure something would happen. i was not wrong. it wanted but a few minutes to the hour, when, stopping to turn, i could hear at some distance the rumble of a vehicle approaching at a walking pace. at first i thought it could not be what i expected; but as it turned into the street i saw that my suspicion was correct. it was the carriage i had seen in the hotel yard; it looked almost funereal, coming along at a foot's pace, with its pair of big black horses. the slow rate of progression had the effect of making very little noise; if the carriage had dashed up to the door, probably half the street would have been roused. as it passed me, the light from a lamp fell on the rather flamboyant device on the panel, but i needed not that to make sure. it drew up at the door of the house whence the fan had come; i had followed close behind, and as the carriage stopped, i slipped unnoticed into the portico of the next house; a risky position to take up, but i was resolved, come what might, to see who the occupants of the carriage were to be. the coachman made no attempt to give notice of his arrival, but sat on his box motionless as i, leaning back in the shadow. presently, it may have been after ten minutes' waiting, the driver's head turned sharply towards the door, then i heard the click of the lock, and a man, the same who had opened the door to me, came out and looked up and down the street with an air of reconnoitring. apparently satisfied, he spoke a few words in a low tone to the coachman and went quickly into the house again. in a short time he reappeared with what seemed a basket and a travelling bag. these he placed inside the carriage. then he brought out a valise, which, with the help of the coachman, he stowed away under the box. he now stood by the carriage door, waiting. i could hear people moving and speaking in a low tone. then the man held the door open. i came forward, standing behind the pillar and leaning over the railing to get as good a view as possible. two men came down the steps, conducting between them a lady so wrapped up and veiled that i could not have seen her face even from a nearer point of view. they were followed by a young woman, whom i seemed to recognize as she who had called herself miss seemarsh, but of this the darkness prevented my being sure. the man farthest from me i at once recognized as count furello. his was not a face to forget. he got into the carriage first, next the veiled lady was handed in by the other man, after which the second lady entered, the man shut the door, and jumped up to the box beside the coachman, who turned the horses and drove slowly off in the direction he had come. the footman stood looking after them till they were out of the street, then went in, and i came out from my hiding-place. "they are taking that girl off to her death," i cried, walking quickly after them; "nothing can be done by me to save her. but, hopeless as it may be, i will not leave her to these fiends without an effort to rescue her. thank heaven, i know their destination; if you are to die, my poor asta, at least a friend shall be near you." chapter xxi a wastrel it was scarcely dawn when i rode out of buyda on my way back to schönvalhof. with a feeling of relief i struck the high road and entered the open country. buyda, beautiful city though it undoubtedly was, had become hateful to me as a veritable net of sinister intrigue, with that great relentless spider sitting in the midst marking down his prey. i reached schönvalhof without incident, and before many people were astir. the house was closed, and i was considerably reassured (for i had my fears), after ringing a loud peal at the bell, to see presently lindheim's face at the window. he seemed more relieved than even i, and ran down to let me in. "a delightful night i have passed!" he exclaimed. "i made sure when midnight came and you had not returned, that you had paid the penalty of your rashness. well, what news?" i related the events of my day in buyda; my interview with rallenstein, my visit to the baroness and meeting with count furello, and lastly, the episode of the fan. "you will not think me a broken reed, my dear lindheim," i said in conclusion, "when you learn i have only called in here on my way to the geierthal. that girl is in awful danger, is quite helpless in the hands of these villains, and i should be worse than a coward if, after having received that appeal, i should ignore it and make no attempt to save her." "i quite agree with you," he said, "but fear you can do nothing. there is no law to which you can appeal, which is not at once over-ruled by the higher law of political expediency. count furello is, as we know, the jaguar's paw. although he holds a good position in his part of the country, they say rallenstein knows enough against him to bring him to the scaffold to-morrow if he wished. no doubt he has been watching us here, superintending the work of his confederates, and has only left because he was wanted for this business, and his master sent for him. you will run a great risk, my friend." "that is nothing," i replied; "any present danger is better than a life-long self-reproach. my only regret is that it involves my deserting you." he laughed. "not necessarily. for, if you are determined to go, i would ask you to let me come with you." "you!" i thought a moment. "i am not sure that it would be a bad move for you. you cannot stay here much longer." "alone? no. it is nervous work enough with a friend. i have not slept all night. let me come with you and meet my danger in the open if it has to be met." "you don't value rallenstein's assurance, then?" "i am quite sure my life would not be worth twenty-four hours' purchase in buyda." "then come, and the sooner we start the better. i fear there is not much to be done, but we shall at least be company for each other. how far is the geierthal from here?" "not much more than thirty miles." "then i propose we make an early start, take a long rest by the way, and get to the place towards evening. we can best reconnoitre after dark." after a substantial breakfast, we hurriedly made preparations for having some necessary baggage sent to us under an assumed name at carlzig, the nearest town to the geierthal, provided ourselves each with a serviceable revolver and a bag of cartridges, and set out. guns and fishing-rods were to be sent after us, our ostensible reason for the excursion being sport, which abounded in those regions. on our way we turned aside to the house of the village priest, whom lindheim requested to take in hand the arrangements for the funeral of poor szalay. the priest had been an old friend of lindheim's father, so could be trusted with the true explanation of szalay's sudden death, and the necessity of our departure. he promised to receive any of the family as lindheim's representative, and to act in the whole matter as his discretion might dictate. this settled, we rode on; but before leaving the village a suspicious curiosity impelled me to turn aside for a few minutes and to climb the rocks, the scene of my narrow escape two days before. with some difficulty i succeeded in mounting to the brow whence the great mass had been dislodged. for my idea now was that this fall had not been accidental, and it needed only a cursory glance to confirm that suspicion. the rock had evidently been bored, and the upper part cleft and hurled down by an explosive, a small charge having probably, from its over-hanging position, sufficed to effect its dislodgment. so sure of impunity had my would-be murderers obviously considered themselves, that they had not troubled in any way to remove the evidences of their design. my feeling now was almost one of indifference, since this was only another proof of what we knew well--the cunning, relentless malignity with which we were being pursued. thus satisfied, i quickly rejoined von lindheim, and we soon had left the village far behind us. after that we slackened our speed, taking frequent rests, and, as we had planned, towards evening found ourselves in a little hamlet about a mile from the monastery of the geierthal. we were more lucky than we anticipated in finding a fairly comfortable roadside inn, where we took up our quarters and ordered dinner. while the meal was preparing i went out for a stroll along the valley to see if a glimpse was to be had of the monastery. after walking for about twenty minutes i came to a point where the pine-covered hills on one side opened out, falling away and leaving a great circle of flat country of, perhaps, a mile in diameter, after which they closed up again and the valley resumed its course. it was here in this lower ground that i rightly guessed the old monastery must be; it was just such a spot as the monks were wont to choose for their dwelling-place, and the next turn in my path gave me a peep of a great house showing here and there between the trees which grew down to the edge of a broad band of water which encircled it. remembering the baroness's description of the monastery on an island i needed no further guide. a few steps on brought me to a gate in a fence which evidently ran round the property. the path i had taken was, then, one leading to the monastery. "i won't trespass this side of dinner," i said; "but it is just as well to have got my bearings by daylight." so after a good look round i turned and retraced my steps to the inn. von lindheim met me with a rather perturbed face. "more complications," he said; "fate is dogging me still. the jaguar's long paw has already reached to the geierthal." "what do you mean? what has happened?" "a stranger is at the inn already. an englishman, or, at least, one who speaks english." "another spurious professor--of what?" "a sportsman this time." "speaking english?" "singing it." "oho! let us investigate. i may be able to tell the genuine article better than you." we went in. in the passage lindheim touched me on the arm and i stopped. from the inner room came a man's voice, an englishman's evidently, singing in a more or less burlesque fashion: "the plighted ring he wore was crushed and wet with gore. yet ere he doied he bravely croied i've kept the vow i swore-hoa-hore, i've ke-he-hept the vo-how-how i swore." "an englishman?" i asked the landlord who came to tell us our dinner was ready. "yes, an englishman," he answered. "he shoots the birds and hares for miles." "he lives here?" "no, mein herr. he lives up in the hills, a good step from here. but he always comes to my house when he is near for a schoppen of lager-beer or a glass of schnaps." "ah! then he has been here for some time?" "a month, two months, i think." i nodded to lindheim, "i think it is all right. but we will go in and see." he was sitting at a table by the window and filling his pipe as we entered. an englishman, certainly, i thought, and of a type not uncommon. a darkish, sunburnt complexion, fearless blue-grey eyes, a drooping moustache, and perhaps a trifle too much heaviness in the jaw; the sort of man you see scores of in the west end during the summer months and very few in the winter, the type from which our best soldiers and sportsmen are drawn. he was dressed in a workmanlike if rather shabby shooting-suit, and his gun and cartridge-bag stood in the corner beside him. on our appearance he looked up casually, and as his eye rested on me a slight beam of recognition came into it, such as one englishman gives another when they meet abroad. i bowed, and we both seemed inclined to laugh. "i think we are fellow-countrymen," i said. "englishmen are apt to meet in out-of-the-way places." "ah, yes," he replied with a slight drawl. "last place i expected to run against one in. nothing to see; all nature and no art, and the nature not quite on the tourist scale." "we are not exactly tourists." "you know this part of the world?" "no. we have come over to try and get sport of some kind." "good man! i've been blazing away for the last six or eight weeks. i'm shooting for a game shop in carlzig. so much a head, with board and lodging and a decent cottage thrown in. like our dealers' moors in england, only they do you better at home; prices are higher. will you join me, sport or profit? as it is i am in danger of forgetting my mother tongue. haven't heard the english language in all its native purity from any lips but my own for months." i said we should be glad to have a day with him. charged as i was with suspicion of everyone i met, i could not bring myself to think this man was not genuine; so far as his nationality went, he certainly was. "my name is strode," he said, "hamilton strode. my people are hampshire, but they've cut my painter and i'm adrift with one oar; 'tother slipped overboard and i couldn't be bothered to pick it up. still, i'm keeping on with a certain amount of vim. i was in the scots fusiliers till the hebrews became too oppressive and i got a hint. our colonel, old lampton, said he didn't mind a jew or two as a general thing; in a crack regiment it was to be expected, but when a man couldn't go into his officers' quarters without tumbling over the whole twelve tribes of israel it was coming it too strong. people were beginning to make unkind remarks about the s. f. g.'s adding houndsditch to their territorial designations, and he'd be pole-axed if the thing should go on. so i was run out, like many a better chap." we expressed our sympathy. "now," he went on, "i dare say i am a queer member, a bad lot, and all that; but if you'll give me your company i can show you some sport, the best in these parts, and i'll give my parole not to try to borrow money of you." "all right," i laughed, "we'll come." and with that assurance he presently went off in great content. chapter xxii the light in the wood after dinner i left von lindheim, who was tired with his long ride after a sleepless night, and set out from the inn for a closer inspection of the monastery. it was a good night for my purpose, being bright and obscure at intervals as great banks of drifting clouds passed over the moon. i soon arrived at the gate, which did not stop me this time. i went through and began to make my way more circumspectly on the private grounds through the thick belt of wood which encircled the moat. to the water's edge was but some two hundred paces, and coincident with my reaching it, the moon shone forth and gave me, like the withdrawing of a veil, a perfect view of the house and its surroundings. they were romantic enough. imagine a grey, rambling pile with all the characteristics of mediæval fortified domestic architecture, toned by an ecclesiastical suggestion over all, standing insulated in the middle of a broad belt of water, surrounded again by wood growing down to its margin, and which, on two sides, after falling back for a short distance on almost level ground, rose abruptly to a considerable height, making a dark background opposite to where i stood. such was my general view of the place; i now proceeded to make a more detailed and practical observation. keeping just within the obscurity of the trees i began to make my way round the moat, principally to ascertain the difficulties of approach to the building. they soon showed themselves to be formidable enough. there was in fact only one legitimate way of entry, by a drawbridge, to meet which a pier ran out half-way across the wide moat. this drawbridge, which was pulled up, was worked from a massive square tower with portcullis gate, the usual gate-house tower of fortified buildings. not much chance of getting over there, so i went on to see what facilities the other side might present. there were none. the band of water became no narrower as i had rather hoped, and as far as i could see (for the deep shadows made accurate observation impossible) the main portion of the building rose sheer from the water. i was rather surprised at this, for i had imagined that in modern times the motive of convenience would have led to the construction of a second means of access. but there was none, and i told myself that the only way of reaching the other side unobserved would be to swim for it. a prison indeed, i thought, for that poor girl, and a secure place of execution. the idea spurred me to leave no attempt at rescue untried; accordingly, i went round the edge of the moat, searching vainly for some indication as to the most likely place where i might swim over and discover her prison. it seemed almost hopeless. was she, indeed, still alive? she and her captors would have arrived some time that morning, and much might have happened since then. were they here after all? the journey to the geierthal might have been a feint. no. i argued it out, and came to the conclusion that it was genuine enough. and what better prison or death-place could these authorized murderers have desired than this? the whole affair was a hideous puzzle to me; still, i was resolved to do what i could to rescue the girl. so i determined i would lose no more time in futile speculations but would swim the moat and set to work to find her. now a strange thing came to my notice. i had begun to throw off my outer clothing preparatory to slipping into the water, and was stooping down on one knee unlacing my boots, when my eye came in line with a faint glimmer of light. my face was towards the wood, turned away for the time from the building, and this light, seen through the trees when i struck a particular line of vision, and lost again when i moved out of it, seemed to be some little distance, a hundred paces, perhaps, within the wood and close to the ground. i watched it for a while, and being quite unable to account for it, quietly put on my clothes again and crept warily towards the place for a closer inspection. betokening, as seemed probable, the presence of persons in the wood, i was rather startled to find how near i had come to being discovered. as i got closer, with fewer trees to intercept my view of the light, it puzzled me more than ever. for it appeared to rise from the earth and irradiate feebly the gaunt trunks of the surrounding trees. for a moment my mind went back to the fairy tales of the land, but any such fanciful suggestion was dispelled by a movement at the spot whence the glow proceeded. the light was intercepted for an instant by something which passed over it. an object rose from the ground, as though it were thrown up. this action was now repeated in fairly quick succession, and i could make a shrewd guess at the explanation. i crept nearer, the thick carpet of pine needles deadening my footsteps. when i had advanced as close as i dared i slipped behind a tree and watched for what next would happen. i could see quite clearly now what was before hidden by the shadow cast where the light did not reach. earth was being thrown up. presently there was a pause in this operation, two objects appeared above the surface about three feet apart. the hands of a man in the act of stretching himself. some one was there digging. what? a grave? the conjecture gave me a thrill. i felt sure now of poor asta von winterstein's fate, and this, merciful providence! this unholy work was for her last resting-place. while her parents were vainly and sorrowfully searching for her body in the river fifty miles away, she had been quietly brought to this house of death and----. i was roused from my thoughts, maddening in the very sense of helplessness to avert the tragedy, by a movement of the light. an old-fashioned lantern whence it came was now raised and set upon the edge of the hole, out of which scrambled afterwards the figure of a man, thick set and so short as to be almost a dwarf. he looked round as though expecting somebody; then taking a pipe from his pocket he lit it from the lantern and sat down to smoke. his action convinced me that he was waiting for some one, perhaps--i shuddered--the bearers of the body to be buried there, and this gave me warning to be on my guard. nevertheless, i was determined to see the affair out; indeed, had i wished, i could hardly have retreated now without attracting the man's notice. i had not long to wait. behind me from the direction of the moat came a peculiar noise, indefinable, yet denoting an approaching presence. the man knocked out his pipe and set himself to rake together a heap of pine needles. i crouched down as close as i could get to the bole of the tree which hid me. a man came along slowly, passing me at a distance of about ten paces. he was half-dragging, half carrying some heavy object, which in the darkness i could not make out, and which i feared to see. as he passed between me and the light i could stand up and get a better view. the man was dressed in a long hooded over-garment like a monk's cassock, and to my relief i saw that what he was carrying was merely a large hurdle. the other man came forward to meet him, and between them they laid the hurdle across the hole. then they went off towards the moat, leaving the light, which was lucky, as had they carried it with them they might have seen me. as it was, the darkness was so impenetrable that i had little fear of detection if only they did not actually run against me. in a few minutes they returned bearing two more hurdles. these also they placed across the grave, if such it were, so that, as i judged, it was completely covered over. then the second man threw off his long cassock, and they both began to shovel earth upon the hurdles, and over that they carefully spread a layer of pine needles. their faces, so far as the dim light allowed me to make them out, were villainous to a degree, but perhaps their surroundings, their occupation, and my own frame of mind did them less than justice. anyhow, they were singularly repulsive. when their work of concealment was finished, each put on his cassock, drawing the hood over his head, then they took up the lantern, the spades and mattock, and returned towards the moat. so, i thought, the grave is ready, but it is not to be occupied to-night. in anticipation of their passing with the light i had retreated to a spot more removed from their path. when they were at a safe distance i began cautiously to follow them, which was rendered easy by the light, which told me of their whereabouts. when once they emerged from the wood to the water's edge i could see them clearly against the moonlight. they had put out the lantern, and from a clump of bushes proceeded to unmoor a boat. then, getting in, these unholy familiars pulled across the moat, landed at what seemed some steps by a small postern, made the boat fast in such a way that it lay hidden behind the steps, and silently disappeared through the door, which closed upon them. here, then, was my point of reconnaissance; not a very promising one, it is true, but worth trying. the door was well contrived, for, in the shadow cast by a buttress, both it and its approach were secure from observation. keenly as i had examined the wall, they had quite escaped my notice. from what i had seen i felt pretty certain that the grave in the wood was not to be visited again that night. so, after waiting a short while, i put into practice my interrupted plan of swimming across the moat for a closer examination. the water was fairly warm, and some twenty strokes landed me at the steps, which, as i had supposed, were formed on the outside of a small stone arch, the inside of which formed a boat-house. i crept up the steps and tried the door; it was fast closed, and an examination of it convinced me that an entrance that way was practically impossible unless i should chance to find it left open. satisfied of this, i next untied the boat, got in, and began a tour round the building, working myself warily along the wall, which rose sheer from the water. my search for any indication of the poor girl's prison was fruitless. the few barred windows i passed were dark and all silent within, neither in any part of the building could i see any sign of life. presently, i came to the end of the wall, to a spot where i could land and examine the place from the other side. very cautiously i made the boat fast and got out. keeping well in the shadow of the walls i crept round the front of the monastery. to my surprise all was dark on this side too; not a glimmer at any of the windows; the whole as silent as a ruin. search as i would, nothing could be seen that gave me the least hope of accomplishing my purpose. so at length my shivering limbs and the obvious futility of further effort told me i must abandon my effort at any rate for that night. it was saddening to think that perhaps even that moment the vile deed might be in course of perpetration, but what could i do with absolutely nothing to guide me? so, after a final scrutiny, i got back into the boat, returned the way that i had come, left it in its place, swam back huddled on my clothes, and ran at a swinging pace home to the inn by way of restoring my circulation. chapter xxiii what we saw at carlzig on the next day a strange thing happened, of which a mere chance, in the first place, gave me the explanation. i was, needless to say, very disheartened at what seemed the absolute impossibility of attempting to rescue poor asta. "i am afraid it is all over with her by this time," i said to von lindheim, when i had related what i had seen the night before. "at any rate, if she is still alive her sand is running very low." "and we can do nothing." "i can't stay here, indoors," i said; for the whole affair was on my nerves, and i felt almost suffocated in the little inn. "you had better not come with me; but i am going to have a look at that grave, and see if it is as they left it last night. after that we will go into carlzig together." accordingly, i set off along the valley, skirting this time the boundary of the private wood until i came to a point about opposite to where the men had been at work. here, by the aid of a tree, i climbed over the high wall and went cautiously through the wood leading down to the water. happily, for my presence in the wood was risky, the distance was short, and when once i got sight of the monastery, and could take my bearings from the little door, i had no difficulty in finding what i sought. the raised mass of earth spread with pine needles was there; the hurdles, covered in like manner, were in position. i lifted one and looked down with a shudder into what it covered. a grave, without doubt, though empty as yet. the place was evidently untouched since the men left it overnight. that was all i had come to see; so far i was satisfied, and having replaced the hurdle, covered as i found it, i made my way with all speed out of the grounds, and so back to von lindheim. then we set off together to carlzig. i was in rather a depressed state of mind, not seeing what i could do towards effecting the purpose that had brought me there. my feeling now was that the only thing to do was just to keep watch, in the faint hope that chance might show me an opening into that house of mystery and death. but the hope was so slender as to be scarcely more than despair, for i was convinced that the quiet, cold-blooded tragedy i dared not think about would be accomplished by that evening. beyond the man who had accompanied count furello from buyda, and the two ruffians i had seen in the wood, i was ignorant of the strength of his household; at the same time i realized that, even had i a dozen men at my back, to attempt to rescue fräulein von winterstein by force would be absurd. it would only make matters worse. there was no law to be invoked; the whole force, moral and physical, open and secret, of the government would be against me. if the poor girl's death were deemed necessary for state reasons, not even her parents could have a valid protest against it. the walk into carlzig took us, perhaps, two hours. it was through a picturesquely wild country, which, however, seemed to me that day dreary and gloomy in the extreme. until within a mile or two of the town we saw scarcely a living soul; no fitter locality for the hostel of st. tranquillin (as we were told the monastery was named) could have been chosen. carlzig we found a fair-sized town, duller even than such places at midday usually are. we looked up and claimed our baggage, and arranged for a carriage to drive back with it. then, having made a few purchases, we went to the principal inn for luncheon. when this was over and we were paying our bill, i felt von lindheim touch my foot significantly under the table. i looked up quickly, following the direction of his eyes, with a half apprehension that i should see the man uppermost in my mind just then, count furello. no. the person he meant me to notice was a clean-shaven cleric, a round-faced, rather distinguished-looking man, whose general air and manner suggested that he had mistaken his profession. he had come into the room with a hand valise, as though from a journey, and was now refreshing himself with a bottle of wine, a bumper of which he poured down his throat in a style not quite becoming his cloth. but his face told me nothing more, and i glanced back inquiringly at my companion. he looked serious enough, but merely returned a slight frown to silence me. then he rose; i followed. as we went out the priest looked up carelessly, but no sign of recognition passed between him and von lindheim. a waiting-maid bustling in with the man's dishes prevented any further notice with which he might have been inclined to favour us. "who on earth was that?" i asked directly we were in the street. "you don't imagine you saw _il conte_ under that disguise?" "no," he answered shortly, and went on. after a few steps he stopped, as though to inspect a particularly uninteresting shop window, but, as i knew, as an excuse for looking round. then we walked on again, and he took my arm. "who do you think that was?" "i haven't an idea." "the man who married the princess and von orsova." "whew!" i could only whistle in surprise. "what in the world is he doing here?" "that is what i am wondering." "his cure may be near this place. but then, why does he travel with a bag?" "and lunch at an hotel. a man of that sort would have had a meal before he started, or brought some _wurst_ sandwiches in his pocket. i think he had come a long journey." "and is not at the end of it." "or why does he go to an inn?" "you are right, lindheim; it is suspicious. shall we keep watch?" there was a smaller inn nearly opposite to that in which we had lunched. we went in, called for coffee, and took up our position at the window commanding the street. for a long while we saw nothing of the priest, but at length, just as we were wondering whether we were not perhaps losing our time, a closed carriage rumbled along the street and drew up at some distance below our inn. a man alighted and appeared to give some directions to the coachman, who turned his horses and drove off the way he had come. the man walked up the street towards us; not a prepossessing fellow by any means, with his long nose, stubby black moustache, swarthy complexion, and restless way of looking about him. something told me instinctively that he was making for the hotel opposite us. such was the case; he went in, returning in a few minutes, as we felt certain he would, with the priest carrying his valise. they went down the street in the direction the carriage had taken. when they had gone a safe distance we went out and followed them. the man who had fetched the priest kept looking round; he was a fellow who, though far from being the salt of the earth, would have been turned into a good imitation thereof in the days of lot. a suspicious curiosity was with him evidently second nature. however, we kept too far behind for him to be able to distinguish what manner of men we were, and we were careful to adopt a pantomime calculated to disarm suspicion. on they went till they reached the outskirts of the town, and there, just beyond the bridge where the road crossed the river, we saw the carriage waiting. they got in, the priest first, his companion following after a good look round, which, however, we took care should not fall on us. then they drove quickly off, the road they took being that which led to the geierthal. "what does it mean?" von lindheim asked. "i can't tell. except that i am certain they have gone to the hostel. who knows? perhaps those butchers are methodical enough in their trade to give their victims christian burial. ah! it's horrible. let us get back. i must see the end of it." chapter xxiv the midnight burial darkness had barely fallen when i was back again in the monastery wood. von lindheim had offered to accompany me, but i had thought it better not to bring him. in the first place i anticipated little to be done except watching, and one pair of eyes would be as good there as two. then if he came with me the chances of being discovered would be increased, since two men are easier seen than one. beyond these there was a stronger reason for leaving him behind. i was convinced that pluckily as he fought against it, his nerve was seriously shaken. he had brightened up considerably since leaving schönvalhof, still it is no joke--although, brave fellow that he was, he tried hard to treat it as one--it is no joke to go for weeks in hourly fear of secret assassination. it was manifest that he felt his utter helplessness to escape ultimately from rallenstein's long arm, and indeed all the police in europe cannot safeguard a man from foes who, cost what it may, are resolved on his death. von lindheim's nerves were hardly equal to his spirit, and certainly his life since the day he fled from buyda had been depressing enough. so i dissuaded him from coming with me; his help might have been useful, even indispensable, but i thought the chances were rather the other way. so i left him with some literature we had brought from carlzig and set off alone. the monastery was as dark and silent as ever. indeed, the strange character of the place was its utter absence of any indication of life within. all the same, i could not but imagine it under that silent exterior to be full of active villainy. yet the dark stillness of the place seemed to chill the nerves, and i felt glad von lindheim was not with me. now my plan was to keep watch near the grave, which i first of all ascertained was still as it had been left the night before. after some little searching in the dark wood i found a tree, with its trunk less bare than the rest, which i could climb and so command a view of the grave, to which it stood quite close, without much chance of being detected. i took pains to mark its exact position, so that i could find it at once, if in a hurry; then i went down to the moat and, taking my stand opposite the postern door, watched and waited. my vigil was a long one; a light wind swept through the trees and just ruffled the placid water before me. a gentle shower fell, then the moon came out in her glory, making the house of death yet more sombre in its grey inscrutableness. clouds drifted across the light, hour followed hour, the great house was as grim and hushed as ever; not a sound broke the stillness save the overhead rustle of the trees and the occasional "tw-hoo" of an owl. still i waited on, content with the solace of my pipe, till at last my patience was rewarded. my eyes, accustomed to the normal look of the objects before them, caught on the wall opposite a faint gleam of light, which i knew did not fall from the moon. it came from the point where i should have expected it, the door i was watching so keenly. i rose, slipped my pipe into my pocket, and stood in anxious expectation, ready to retreat to my hiding-place. the light was now more noticeable, glancing to and fro; it was difficult, owing to the shadow of the buttress, to make out anything clearly, but i was certain that dark figures were moving about the door. presently i just caught the faint sound of the grazing of the boat's side against the steps. they, the dark figures, were getting into it now; the time they took and their movements assured me that they were bringing with them the dread burden i anticipated. in another moment they would push off, so i judged it time to make for my perch of observation. my last glimpse as i retreated was of the dark boat-load slowly advancing towards the point i had quitted. in a few minutes more i had climbed up the tree and swung myself into a secure position amid the thick branches. if ever a man felt sick at heart i did then, perched there waiting for the last scene of that ghastly business. my imagination would picture the poor girl's death agony, almost a relief when it came to end that hopeless suspense. how had their vile work been done? was it poison, the knife, or perhaps that mysterious death-touch that had struck down poor szalay? my mind would run on the imagined scene till the approaching sound of men's feet drew my thoughts to actualities. i could now see a light through the trees. the man who carried it in a lantern was followed by two others, bearing between them an improvised stretcher on which was no doubt a human body. certainly as i had expected this, the sight made my heart give a great throb, and i trembled as i had never done before. the men set their burden down by the grave (it was wrapped round in some dark cloth or canvas), and then proceeded to remove the hurdles, the first man still holding the light. once when he raised it to the level of his face i recognized him; he was the same who had fetched the priest that afternoon from carlzig. not a word was spoken by any one of the three, at least that i could hear. one of the hurdles was placed beside the body, which was then laid on it; two ropes were produced and passed underneath. one man, the dwarf, took the ropes at the foot, while the fellow who held the lantern came forward to help the other man. as he did so he stooped down, and lifting the covering from the dead face held the light to it. an irresistible fascination overcame my desire to avert my eyes, and it was as well it did so. for with a great shock of something like relief i recognized not the face of asta von winterstein, but that of the priest we had seen that day in carlzig. chapter xxv von lindheim's departure the probabilities now were, that fräulein asta von winterstein was still alive. horribly shocked as i was by what i had seen, it was yet with a feeling of almost relief that, when the ghastly work was over, and the men had gone, i got down from my place of observation and went back to the inn. one thing greatly annoyed me. that was the thought of the opportunity i had missed, while the men were engaged in the wood, of slipping into their boat and trying whether they had not left the little door unfastened. what i could have done towards rescuing the imprisoned girl, even had i gained entrance into the building, was very doubtful; still, had i imagined that it was not her body they were going to bury i should certainly have made the attempt. after all my life was in no greater danger than that of a soldier's in action, with, personally, a far more imperative reason for risking it. the relation of the night's deed had a bad effect on von lindheim, although he manfully strove to hide it. "i am the only man left now," he said bitterly, "who saw that affair. is it likely that i shall be allowed to live?" i did my best to give him courage, making most of the chancellor's assurance, and pointing out how different his case was from that of the priest who had actually performed the ceremony. but in the unstrung state of his nerves my arguments made little impression, and, though he affected to take a hopeful view, i fear he went to bed in a miserable frame of mind. next morning strode came over, and we prepared to go out shooting with him. there was a certain breeziness about my fellow-countryman that acted as a nerve tonic. i had been worrying about von lindheim during the night, and had come to the conclusion that the only thing for him was to slip away out of the country and put, if possible, a continent between himself and the ruthless chancellor. the opportunity was apt, since, so far as we could tell, our whereabouts was not known. still, any hour might bring us evidence of the contrary, and it seemed to me that the sooner my friend was on his way the better. at breakfast i told him my idea, and was glad to notice that it seemed to jump with his own inclination. "the only question is the detail," i said. "i am sorry that i cannot come with you, but i am bound to stay here, at any rate till i know the worst, and perhaps, after all, you will have a better chance by yourself, since, if rallenstein's people are on the look-out, it will naturally be for us both together." strode's appearance at the inn put an idea into my head, which i thought out and communicated to him later in the day. "i want your advice and your help, if you'll give it me," i said. we had walked some two or three miles from the geierthal on to high ground along which ran a chain of woods well stocked with game. von lindheim was some little way from us, and i had shortened the regulation interval between strode and myself to speaking distance. he answered eagerly, rather surprised, it seemed, that any one should be found to ask help of him. "my dear fellow, of course i will. what's the trouble?" "you will give me your word it shall go no farther?" he nodded, and i felt i could trust him. "our friend von lindheim is under a cloud. he is being hunted down for political reasons. holds a dangerous secret, and his life is not worth twelve hours' purchase." strode whistled. "bad as that?" "yes; you don't know what vindictive fiends these government people are. now, if he is to save his life he must get away out of the country." "i should think so. i'm your man; this is rather exciting. what can i do?" "you have a passport?" "yes. ah, i see." "i have an idea if he travelled in your name it might put the bloodhounds off the scent. he speaks english perfectly, as you hear. it is but a chance, still i can't see a good fellow like that done to death in cold blood without an effort to save him. he ought to slip away quietly at once." "yes," he drawled, but i could see he was thinking it out. "we had better head for my diggings, potting what we can on our way. i've an idea an _eilwagen_ passes about a mile below the house between four and five. that might do for him. we can talk it over as we go." whereupon we called von lindheim and communicated the plan to him. the situation and his chances were discussed as we went; details of his flight and the safest route were arranged. the cottage, a literal shooting-box, was soon reached, a curiously bare little place furnished simply with necessaries, and, with the exception perhaps of one armchair, none of the luxuries of life. here strode provided an excellent luncheon, considering the resources of the place, fish and game and ham, with an assortment of _delicatessen_ and a capital bottle of wine. then we equipped von lindheim for his journey, making him as much like a travelling briton as possible, towards which an old suit of strode's went a long way. everything that could be was changed, even down to the linen, which now bore the englishman's name, proof positive of his identity. then, furnished with the all-important passport, a travelling bag, a flask and sandwiches, he set off with us to intercept the _eilwagen_, which was soon to pass through the valley below. both he and i were depressed at the thought of the parting, and i am sure our minds were full of darker forebodings than we cared to acknowledge; but strode's dry humour and happy-go-lucky temperament kept up our spirits; carelessness of self is infectious, as every soldier knows. we reached the spot where the _eilwagen_ was to pass, and after some twenty minutes' waiting it lumbered into sight. thereupon we bade von lindheim god-speed and left him, thinking it just as well that he should appear alone. still, in that wooded country we were able unobserved to see the last of him, and it was with satisfaction we noticed that the only passenger so far was an old market woman who sat beside the driver talking volubly. the accent of our friend's hail was worthy of a real englishman; the jolting vehicle pulled up, he threw in his bag and took his seat. there was just time for a wave of the hand unseen by the other occupants, and a turn in the road shut him from our sight. i must confess that it was with a good deal of relief that i saw von lindheim safely on his way. i had my doubts as to the probabilities of his ultimate escape, the more so as i mistrusted his nerve at a critical juncture. still, something had to be done, he had the advantage of a good start, and i had arranged that if there was no more chance of helping fräulein von winterstein i would follow him, it might be on the next day. but that was not to be. i could not quite make up my mind whether it would be as well to tell strode the real reason of my staying on at the inn in the geierthal. his pluck, contempt of danger, and promptness of resource were all that i could wish; he was, i felt sure, staunch enough; yet i hesitated, and, although more than once on the point of doing so, said nothing that day of the imprisoned girl. we had plenty to talk of on our way back in the recital of the chancellor's methods of securing secrecy. however, i did not tell strode what the particular affair was that had brought these men to their death. we made an arrangement to meet and shoot on the morrow, and i went back alone to the geierthal. on reaching the inn i found the coffee-room occupied by a young fellow whose appearance was so curious that i gave him a second glance. he was poorly dressed, of a very dark complexion, his lip was fringed with a slight moustache, while a mass of untidy black hair fell over his collar and stood out in front from beneath his cap, almost veiling his eyes. by the side of his plate stood an old concertina. a tramping musician, i thought; then looked again and, from habit, became suspicious. however, he had as much right there as i, so i ordered my dinner, explaining to the innkeeper that my friend was sleeping that night at the englishman's cottage to be ready for an early shoot in the morning. presently the young man took up his concertina and went out. from the window i saw him seat himself on the bench in front of the house, roll a cigarette and lazily smoke it, playing the while softly on his instrument. "a travelling musician?" i asked the landlord. he gave a shrug. "i think so. he says he came from carlzig to-day. they sometimes pass this way, but not often; there is not much to be picked up here. no people, no pence." i thought it strange enough to be suspicious; but when i went out a little later the musician was gone and i saw him no more. chapter xxvi i shoot with the count i resumed my watch that night, but all my vigilance and patience were without result. the monastery was as dark and lifeless as ever. there was no more digging in the wood; for that i was thankful, since now there seemed a good chance that asta von winterstein was alive. it seemed almost as though there were some reason for sparing her life, or why had a false report of her death been spread. but the whole affair was a puzzle at which i could but vaguely guess. next day, however, adventure began to loom again before me. after breakfast i was in my room preparing an equipment for the day's sport when the inn servant announced that a gentleman was asking for me below. i naturally supposed it was strode, who had come over instead of waiting at the appointed meeting-place. what was my surprise on running downstairs to find myself face to face with count furello. count furello in sporting garb, a gun in his hand, and a dog at his heels. he greeted me effusively. "my dear mr. tyrrell! you! this is unkind of you to keep me in ignorance of your being within reach of my hospitality. i hear to-day, by accident, that an englishman is staying here. i hasten to offer my services, and i find--you! well, and how do you like our geierthal? is it not picturesque enough for you? i hope your stay will not be as short as most of your countrymen would make it." with a flow of polite chatter he followed me into the coffee-room. i had recovered from the effect of his unexpected visit and was now on the alert. "you, too, are for sport to-day," he continued, having declined my offer of refreshment. "you shall come with me to my preserves. i can promise you some sport. you can have found but rough shooting on the common land here." now, needless to say, my distrust of this man was absolutely unmitigated. i knew that his tone and his professions were utterly false; that the real object of his call was, in all probability, of a far more sinister nature than to show hospitality or afford me sport. nevertheless, having no fear for myself and an intense desire to penetrate the mystery of fräulein von winterstein's fate, i rather welcomed the count's appearance. it might at least give me a chance of action, of mere watching to no purpose i had had enough. so after a moment's thought i resolved to accept furello's invitation, a decision he received with a satisfaction which was assuredly the only genuine sentiment he had expressed during the interview. under pretence of making a change in my clothes, i ran up to my room and scribbled a note of excuse to strode, which the innkeeper undertook to have conveyed to him forthwith. i had my reasons for keeping strode and furello apart, at any rate for that day, and had i mentioned my engagement i thought the count would have insisted on his joining us. also it will be obvious that there was von lindheim's absence to be accounted for. i changed my coat, rejoined furello, and we set out. as i anticipated, he presently remarked, "you have a companion staying with you. would he not care to join us?" he stopped as though to turn back. "he is away," i answered; "staying with a friend some distance from here." "ah!" we walked on. "your friend is not a countryman of your own?" "oh, no," i returned in a tone of frank confidence; "it is our friend von lindheim, of buyda. he has been dangerously ill, and we thought a change of air and scene would set him up again." "no doubt." i could not help thinking that my companion was turning over in his mind certain plans for neutralizing the vivifying effect of the geierthal's air. "your friend returns soon? yes?" "i expect him to be with me in a day or two," was my disingenuous answer; pardonable, i hope, under the circumstances. "in the meantime i shall hope to supply, however unworthily, his place of companion to you." i seemed to catch a feline look in the face beside me, and thought that the unworthiness on which he had insisted so prettily might not be wide of the mark. we soon reached the private woods of the estate, and as the count showed me the way and pointed out the view of the monastery i wondered whether he knew how familiar i already was with it all. for i had come to be surprised at nothing in that network of spies and assassins. sport was plentiful; black game, ptarmigan, pheasants and hares fell in dozens before our guns. a pic-nic luncheon was brought out to us on the hills, and afterwards, when we had lighted our cigars, the count chatted away gaily as though he had nothing more heinous than the death of a pheasant on his conscience. he explained how it was that his intended stay of but one day in the geierthal had been prolonged. his sister, who lived at the monastery with him, had been ill, and did not like being left alone in that out-of-the-way spot. "you as a bachelor, my dear herr tyrrell," he said, "are perhaps scarcely in a position to realize the subtle influence which womenkind exercise on our movements. had i to choose men for a dangerous, a critical enterprise, i would take care to reject all those about whom i might suspect any feminine tie or entanglement. most of the successful men who have made history have been those who either by nature or experience were able to take love as a mere episode, an interlude, to be swept off the stage when the scene was set for the next act of the real drama of their lives. pardon me if i speak too strongly. you english are noted for a nice cultivation of the domestic virtues." "and yet we have made history." "true. but your greatest men would come under my category. and the very fact that englishwomen are so domesticated shows that they have been kept in their proper place and not allowed to interfere in their husbands' or lovers' careers. you are men of action, and i fancy are often roused to it from a longing for change from the monotony of the very virtues on which you pride yourselves." i laughed and did not contradict him. "now you, my dear friend," he went on, "your love of movement and adventure is, i venture to say, untinged by the thought of any woman." the green eyes were on me. he was watching me narrowly. "naturally," i replied carelessly. "the age of knight-errantry is long past." "is it?" the mouth was drawn back and the eyes glittered with a vicious sneer, at least so it seemed to me. "is it not?" i rejoined with a laugh. "are we not all too full of commercial common sense now-a-days?" "even for an isolated case here and there, you think?" "i have not heard of one. perhaps your experience, count, is more interesting than mine." he gave a shrug. "i have seen curious things in my time." "i can well believe you," was my mental comment. "and," he continued in a tone of polite, but, to me, somewhat repulsive banter, "my imagination could easily construct of you, my young friend, a wandering knight seeking adventures." "at least, it is on my own account," i laughed. "ah, yes. the motive now-a-days is less illogical than formerly, if quite as unprofitable. you, now, might be earning a name for yourself at home in one of the professions, but you prefer to wander about in out-of-the-way corners of europe for what? for the pleasures of a roving life and the excitement of not knowing when you wake what the day may bring forth." "it is preferable, at least, to the humdrum holiday of the ordinary tourist." "holiday!" he looked incredulous. "scarcely a holiday in the sense in which most men understand the term. you are tied, i presume, by no limit of time or means; is it not rather the business of your life now to rove where you will, answerable to no one, cut off from all ties, your very family in total ignorance of your whereabouts?" "perhaps so," i answered unthinkingly, for the man's manner rather irritated me. "we english hate the idea of dependence and supervision; our freedom is absolute, in effect as well as in name." i had reason before many hours were over to realize the rashness of that speech. but at the moment disgust for the hideous methods of a despotic government were so strong within me that i did not weigh the possible effect of my words, or see the trick which had led me to make the admission. the count rose. "i think, if you are rested, we may turn our faces homewards now. we have an hour's walk, and i wager shall flush some game on our way. i hope, herr tyrrell, that you will do me the honour of joining us at dinner. we dine _sans cérémonie_ to-night, and in her state of health my sister will be glad if we all renounce full dress." the invitation was, i felt, one which on the score of my personal safety it was madness to accept. but my great desire was to get inside the monastery, since from without i could do nothing. it was for that i had spent the day with a man i loathed; to accept his hospitality was entirely repugnant to me; but i was fighting against odds to save a human life: i had to avail myself of every advantage i might get, and could not be squeamish. the risk, i knew, was fearful; no greater, though, to me a strong man than her danger to the imprisoned girl. i had my wits about me, my revolver in my pocket; i felt that the path here divided, and i had to choose between that of duty and that of cowardice. the chance i had prayed for had come. at the worst it was but another grave in the wood for a man who had done his duty. i accepted. chapter xxvii the dish of sweetmeats as we drew near the monastery my worthy host gave me a short sketch of its history. how it had fallen from the high position it occupied in mediæval times to be a hostel of mercy for the sick and dying (which, indeed, thought i, in one sense it is still); then how the property fell, by the changes and chances of time, into the hands of the state, from which, for sporting purposes and a love of the picturesque, he was induced to rent it. i had my doubts about a good deal of this plausible story, but accepted the statements for what they were worth. "two or three survivors of the order of st. tranquillin," he continued, "still live on the premises. i had not the heart to turn them adrift, and as they confine themselves to a distant wing of the building we see little or nothing of them." i thought of the grave-diggers and their cassocks and cowls. pretty monks! a veritable house of mercy! on our arrival at the pier, the drawbridge was let down. i saw that it would have been impossible to gain a secret entrance that way. we crossed the great courtyard, the door was thrown open, and at last i was under the roof of asta von winterstein's prison. if the exterior of the building was gloomy, it seemed positively gay compared with the interior, which was dark, cold, gaunt, and depressing enough to make a sexton shiver. the great entrance hall, in spite of the faded tapestry with which it was hung, was inexpressibly bare and gloomy. what, i thought, must that poor girl's feelings have been when she was brought in? my own were such that it called for a strong effort of will to keep my nerves steady. the count led the way to a passage leading from the hall, he opened a door and ushered me into a room which was furnished in a style of luxurious snugness, in cheerful contrast to its approach. as we entered, a lady rose, whom the count made known as his sister. there was not much likeness, however, between them; still, it was hardly worth while to doubt the statement. a handsome woman she must have been once, indeed was so still, but the lines of the face were hard, and about the eyes was a suggestion of a sad history. she looked at me curiously, the expression was but momentary; then she seemed to resume a mask which for that instant she had inadvertently let fall, and chatted pleasantly enough until the count suggested our getting ready for dinner. he conducted me himself across the gloomy hall, thence upstairs to a well-appointed dressing-room, like the rest of the house charged with a chilling atmosphere of dreariness. left alone, the sense of my great danger came strong upon me. knowing what i did of the count, it was, i told myself, sheer madness to touch food in his company. on the other hand i argued that he, or rather rallenstein, his master, would think twice before attempting foul play with me. i might regard my host's polite attention more as a means of keeping observation on me and my movements than as a death-trap. it was hardly conceivable that they could have even an inkling of my being aware that fräulein von winterstein was alive and under that very roof. anyhow, i was committed to the adventure; i had an object to gain in going through with it; and must now trust to fate and to my own alertness to bring me safely out. it was my purpose to note as much of the interior of the monastery as i could. a glance out of the window explained the total darkness and silence of the house as seen from without. it was built in the form of a hollow parallelogram, round an open space on which, presumably, the windows of the principal inhabited rooms looked out. by keeping, then, the outer line of rooms dark and empty, no watcher from outside could have any idea of what was going on within, nor tell whether the place was deserted or occupied by a large household. the outlook upon this middle space was no less dismal than the rest of the building. the masonry was green from age and neglect, the lower windows were crossed and recrossed by rusty bars, and the more than usually hideous gargoyles did not detract from the cheerlessness of the aspect. i wondered if any one of these barred windows was that of asta von winterstein's prison. if so, a further scrutiny told me an attempt to rescue her by anything short of force was practically hopeless. still, i resolved to keep my eyes on the alert for anything chance might have to show me; it had so favoured me hitherto that i was inclined to hope more from it. my reflections were interrupted by the knock of a footman, who came to conduct me downstairs, an attention which, in my spying mood, i did not appreciate so much as i did its probable reason. in what i suppose would be called the drawing-room the count and his sister were waiting for me, he dressed in a dining-suit of dark blue velvet which rather accentuated his peculiar characteristics. as dinner was announced i discovered that we were not three, but four, as a man, whom, if he had been in the room on my entrance, i had not noticed, came forward from behind me. "ah, let me present herr bleisst, my good friend and secretary," the count said with a flourish. the good friend and secretary bowed low, and as he straightened himself his face suggested to me that whatever his merits as a secretary might be, those as a good friend to any one were at least problematical. then i offered my arm to the hostess and we went in followed by the two men. if i had any doubts as to a sinister motive behind the count's hospitality they were now dispelled in startling fashion. as we entered the dining-room the count and bleisst, walking behind us, separated, and for a moment turned their backs on us as each went towards his place at the table. my hostess let her handkerchief fall and we both by, as it were, a common impulse, stooped to pick it up. at this instant, our heads being close together, she whispered hurriedly, "only pretend to eat the sweetmeats--for your life." as we rose she was thanking me, and apologizing for her carelessness, and we took our seats at the table. i was inwardly not a little excited by her secret warning, but flattered myself i showed nothing of it to the count's restless, vigilant eye. before each of us was a gilt dish of sweetmeats, specimens of the most perfect dainties of the confectioner's art. at least, i should be able to eat the other dishes without fear--or was this a trick within a trick? i thought not, but resolved all the same to let my companions serve as tasters and to touch nothing they refused. the dinner passed off with less dreariness than might have been expected, considering all things. it was not exactly a lively meal, but the count had a fund of talk; he was, for such a scoundrel, a man of considerable culture, and i even wondered how, amid the less innocent pursuits to which he was addicted, he had found time to become as well read, both in classical literature and the topics of the day, as he showed himself to be. he was certainly an amusing talker, and although some of his arguments were supported by reasoning shallow to the verge of flippancy, yet they were none the less entertaining, and that just then was everything. my appetite after a day in the keen air of the hills was so good that not even the sight of what i might call the second murderer of the establishment, that is, the man who had fetched the priest from carlzig, could quite spoil it. this fellow glided in and out of the room occasionally, and seemed to combine the duties of major-domo with those of the functionary i have just mentioned. the two men who waited upon us i had never seen before, and from their faces i set them down as being comparatively virtuous, which is not saying much. another curious circumstance gave me food for thought in the midst of my host's showy apothegms. it was the somewhat remarkable silence of his good friend and secretary. herr bleisst sometimes nodded, occasionally shrugged, and often smiled, but it was not until dinner was more than half over that he contributed anything audible to the conversation. and even then he seemed to speak by mistake. the count was favouring me with his opinion on the respective advantages of an autocratic and a democratic government, and supporting his preference for the former by his usual method of highly coloured argument. he even went so far as to assert that the autocratic rule gave greater freedom to the people than they could get by governing themselves. "now, in england," he said, "you think yourselves absolutely free, is it not so?" i bowed assent. "and yet," he proceeded, "a moment's reflection should convince you that so far from this being the case, there is, if i may speak without offence, more slavery in england than in any other country. take one section. what do you call a snob: is not that merely another name for a slave?" "it is voluntary servitude," i suggested. "granted," he replied. "but none the less real and constraining. then a stronger case is the liberty which your boasted freedom gives to one class of men to make slaves of another; to the strong to coerce the weak, the rich the poor. you smile! surely you will not dispute that?" my smile had been called up by the thought of a power used by the strong against the weak under a certain despotic government, which put the worst crimes of plutocracy into the shade. but it did not seem expedient just then to cite instances. "at least the weak and the poor are at liberty to refuse to be enslaved," i answered by way of saying something. "in an autocratically governed country it is slavery or death, with not always the option of slavery." the count returned my smile with interest. "a very apt description of your sweating dens in london." then it was that bleisst spoke, giving an extra clinch to his patron's argument. "where," said he, "does this liberty to refuse slavery lead? to the workhouse, which is undisguised servitude, with the prospect of a slave's only ransomer, death." the surprise with which i looked at the secretary was not occasioned altogether by the novelty of the remark from his lips, but from the impression that i had heard his voice before. yes, it was beyond doubt familiar, and so preoccupied was i by the coincidence, that i fear i let my ingenious host carry off the honours of the argument against my country. i was still puzzling over the identity of herr bleisst, and scrutinizing him as attentively as good manners allowed, when i was recalled to the exigency of the situation by the count's inviting me to try some of the dish of sweetmeats before me. "i have them sent weekly from buyda," he said persuasively; "you know our metropolis prides itself on these fascinating trifles, and will not allow the superiority of even vienna or paris itself." my hostess added a word of recommendation and pushed the dish towards me. understanding her feint of pressing them upon me, i took several of the bon-bons on to my plate, and from time to time made a pretence of eating one, at the same time being loud in praise of their excellent flavour. a trick acquired in my school days of palming coins and cork pellets stood me now in good stead, and in a short time the sweets had left my plate and were safely stowed in my pocket. the secretary, bleisst, now began to join freely in the conversation, and every fresh remark he made confirmed my conviction that i had talked with him on some previous occasion, but certainly not under his present identity. as his sister rose and left us, the count came to me, and, laying his hand familiarly on my shoulder, told me he could not think of permitting me to turn out that night and go all the way to the inn. "you must sleep here," he insisted. "i need not apologize to a man of your nerve for the gloom of our rooms. we have doubtless both had worse hunting quarters, and i can furnish you with everything you need to make you comfortable. so you must not say no." i had all along expected this invitation, and had made up my mind to go through with the adventure at all hazards, leaving to chance the details of a vague plan i had formed for discovering fräulein von winterstein's prison. accordingly i thanked him and accepted. "that is friendly of you," he said. "bleisst, will you see that all arrangements are made for mr. tyrrell's comfort. i think the prior's room will be most pleasant." the secretary had come up to us, and now turned with a slight bow to go off on his errand. as he did so, some expression in his face, which i had not noticed before, gave me in a flash the clue to his identity. then i knew who he was. the face was curiously, unaccountably changed; it was fifteen or twenty years younger; the man's expression and mode of speaking were different. nevertheless, a tell-tale slip had betrayed him, and now, perfect as his disguise had been, i recognized in the smug, clean-shaven herr bleisst none other than the _soi-disant_ professor seemarsh. chapter xxviii the prior's room the count and i went back to the other room, where we found his sister playing with a great dog of curious breed, something between a wolf-hound and a blood-hound. coffee was brought in, and the hostess begged we would smoke there. the dog came to me, treating my advances, however, rather suspiciously. i broke up a small cake and threw him morsels, which he devoured. then something prompted me to try him with one of the sweetmeats in my pocket. taking an opportunity when my worthy host was not favouring me with his attention, i threw the brute one, which, like the scraps of cake, he caught and swallowed. this, as it turned out, was no bad move of mine. presently i thought it well to appear drowsy and express a wish to retire. at that moment bleisst glided in and announced that my room was ready for me. i bade good-night to my hostess, who seemed studiously to avoid meeting my eyes, then left the room with bleisst, whom the count desired to show me the way and see that i wanted nothing. on reaching my room i found it furnished with everything i could need, and was glad when the door was shut upon my conductor. so the mystery of professor seemarsh was now cleared up beyond all doubt. after a few minutes' review of the evening's events, i set myself to make a survey of the prior's room. and a gloomy chamber it was, although made as cheerful as possible by a profusion of wax candles. what seemed its ordinary furniture was old, gaunt, and dilapidated, but this was supplemented by some articles of a quite modern type. the bed was a great four-posted one with dark hangings, which added to the general sombreness. near the other end of the room stood a massive square wardrobe of dark oak. i opened this. it was a somewhat elaborate piece of furniture, panelled and carved inside as well as out. a good roomy receptacle for clothes, fitted round with hooks, all empty save one, from which hung what seemed an old riding cloak. there was nothing else remarkable in the room with the exception of several large pictures which, framed in black wood, hung high on the walls. one of them particularly attracted my notice. it was a rather striking full-length portrait of a young man, in what seemed a student's dress of the last century. i don't know what there was remarkable about it, except that it was painted with strength, and was one of those portraits which, without having seen the originals, one feels sure must be spirited likenesses. he, whoever he was, had evidently been a gay young fellow, a dandy probably among his compeers; he had large laughing eyes, which rather contradicted the sobriety of his attitude, assumed no doubt merely for the ordeal of the portrait painting. having finished my survey of the room, i began to consider as to the best way of passing the first hours of the night. i was supposed to be poisoned, or at least drugged; there was no doubt now that my life was sought, and my careless admission in the afternoon that my friends were ignorant of my whereabouts made my disappearance safe. i wondered if at that moment the count's familiars were digging a grave for me in the wood. probably the unfortunate priest had had no friendly warning against the sweetmeats. the reason of mine was a puzzle about which i had then no time to speculate; my one thought had to be for action. the peril in which i stood quite removed any scruples i might have had with regard to letting anything stand in the way of my purpose. i looked carefully to my revolver, saw that the door of the room was fast locked, and set myself to wait until the night was further advanced. it then occurred to me that as i, or any other victim of the count's polite hospitality, might reasonably be expected to lock the door, there should naturally be some other means of admittance for those who came in to make away with their damnable work. accordingly i took one of the candles and made a thorough search round the room. there was no sign of any secret door or sliding panel. i examined the floor all over, especially under the bed, but to no purpose. so at last i gave up the search, and fell to speculating how long it would be before they came to find me. would they wait till the morning? they had certainly not done so in the case of that poor priest. anyhow, thought i, they will have a somewhat astonishing reception when they do come. some books had been placed on a shelf for me, two or three of the newest french novels, and an english booklet of light essays. i took up this last with the idea that reading would be more likely to keep my nerves steady than letting my imagination run on the chances of the night. so, extinguishing all the candles but two, i threw myself on the bed and began to read. i had turned over a good many pages, when, a little weary of reading, i let the book fall, and lay on my back wondering how best to fight against the drowsiness which, after a fatiguing day, was stealing over me. suddenly the problem was solved by a sight which put me keenly on the alert. my eyes happened to be casually fixed on one of the carved wooden rosettes which extended at intervals round the frieze of the wall. the particular rosette in my line of sight was slowly revolving. my first idea was to regard this as an ocular deception; then, watching it attentively, i concluded that such was not the case; the rose was actually turning. it gradually receded, till it disappeared altogether, leaving in its place a dark, circular aperture; doubtless a spy-hole commanding the whole room. prepared for this, i had turned over, bringing my head into a higher position where it would be hidden from the expected watcher by the fringe of the bed-canopy. through a gap in this i could still, unseen, keep the peep-hole under observation, and could detect, at least so it seemed, a pair of malignant eyes glaring from its black recess. so the time for action was at hand. i turned sleepily on my pillow, and blew out the lights. that would put an end to the watching, which was intolerable. then i listened. not a sound. the very silence showed me that my nerves were in order--not even imagination conjured up the slightest movement. after waiting a few minutes, i quietly slipped out of bed, and resumed such of my clothes as i had put off. i took my revolver, matches and a candle, and made ready to meet the danger i felt was coming. from what quarter it would appear i was quite ignorant, and not a little curious; anyhow, i was not going to stay where it would expect to find me. i crossed the room, and took my stand beside the square wardrobe, ready for a dash, and listening intently. i had some time to wait, the most exciting suspense, perhaps, of my life. there i stood in pitch darkness, straining my ears for the sound i knew must surely be coming. but when? whence? i waited on grimly, revolver in hand, with every faculty on the alert, for the slightest indication that the room contained a living being beside myself. at last it came. chapter xxix the count's hospitality i have said that my position was in a recess formed between the wall and the side of the wardrobe. standing here, i suddenly became aware of a slight sound quite close to me, so slight that had i not been listening intently in that perfect stillness my ear would not have detected it. to determine exactly whence it proceeded puzzled me; any one who has listened for a sound in intense darkness will understand my uncertainty. something was moving--almost at my elbow, it seemed; yet nothing that i could see or touch. now again! louder. something moving close beside me. then suddenly the explanation flashed upon me. the noise came from the wardrobe. some one was inside. scarcely had i realized this when, even in that darkness, i was aware of a black object in front of me. instinctively i raised my revolver; it knocked slightly against the wardrobe door, which was swinging slowly back upon me. so it had been unfastened and opened from the inside. whoever had opened it was already in the room. i waited a few seconds, then, with revolver ready in one hand, i began quietly to push the door to with the other. when it was half-way closed i paused and listened. some one was moving about the room in the direction of the bed. he was going, no doubt, to administer the _coup-de-grâce_, or to see whether i was already beyond it. in another moment he would find the bed unoccupied. this certainly called for prompt action on my part. all the same, action was not easy in that pitchy darkness. i could scarcely move on account of having to listen constantly for that stealthy presence. but i guessed the man's first act on discovering i was not in the bed would be either to strike a light, or to return as he came to fetch others of the party. in the former case, i resolved to shoot him on the first spark of light; in the latter, which i hoped would happen, i intended to account for him in quieter fashion. for my only chance of accomplishing my ultimate purpose lay in wit, not force. on the other side of the wardrobe stood a table on which i knew were a pair of massive silver candlesticks. i felt for one of these, seized it, took out the candle, and held it ready. for a few moments now i heard no sound in the room; then i became aware that, as i expected, the man was coming stealthily back towards the wardrobe. i slipped the revolver into my pocket, and grasping the heavy candlestick with both hands raised it above my head. the man came nearer, he was now quite close; i could hear, could feel, his breath. then, just at the right moment, i brought down the weapon with all my force on his head. the blow, by good luck, fell absolutely true. with an exclamation--half gasp, half groan--the man collapsed at my feet. so far good. i listened, but heard no indication that the alarm had been taken. i dared not strike a light, having regard to the peephole in the wall. i knelt down and examined, as well as i could by touch, the prostrate form. he was evidently wearing the same sort of rough cassock as those worn by the men who had buried the priest in the wood. with some difficulty i took this from him and put it on myself. the fellow was breathing stertorously; from the force of my blow there could be little doubt that his brain had suffered sufficient concussion to keep him still for some hours to come. so there was nothing to fear from leaving him as he was. i now entered the wardrobe and ventured to strike a match. the light showed me a sliding door formed by one of the panels at the back, which unnecessary ornamentation was thus accounted for. i passed through this, and found myself in a narrow passage. pulling the cowl over my head, i struck another light in order to see which way to turn. on the right a flight of wooden steps ran up to the roof. as there was no door or outlet of any sort up there it was evident that they were intended solely for the purpose of reaching the spy-hole in the frieze. i went on, groping my way for a certain distance, then striking a fresh light to see what was before me. i had two objects now: to discover, if possible, the prison of asta von winterstein, and to make good my escape from that house of murder--neither of them easy. after moving cautiously along for a considerable distance i came to a door, at what was evidently the end of the secret passage. before this hung the arras with which the corridor into which it opened was lined. luckily the passage, for obvious reasons, was carpeted with some soft material which deadened the sound of footsteps. from beyond the door came men's voices. i crept warily forward and peeped through the hangings. across the corridor was a room of which the door was ajar and whence came the voices. a plan of action now occurred to me. taking the opportunity when one loud-voiced fellow was speaking, i stole across and hid myself behind the hangings on the other side. my position now was close to the door of the room in which the men were; their talk was plainly to be heard. they were speaking of the dog. the sweetmeat had evidently had its effect, and they seemed considerably mystified thereby. the count's tone (for he was there) was angry and querulous; he was blaming the other men for carelessness in having left the poison in the animal's way. this they vehemently denied, and the real solution of the mystery seemed to occur to none of them. under less critical conditions i should have been amused by this confirmation of the count's true character when his veneer of hyper-politeness was stripped off. his present tone was ludicrously in contrast to that which he adopted in company. presently, to end the recrimination, some one suggested that paulus was a long time gone. my charming host laughed. "it takes much to kill an eel and an englishman." nevertheless, as the minutes passed without sign of their comrade's return, they proposed to go in a body to see what was wrong. this was what i had calculated upon. they came out of the room, four or five of them, crossed the corridor and entered the secret passage. i waited till they should have gone a safe distance, then came out of my hiding-place, went quickly to the door and fastened it upon them. thus i hoped, having the key of the prior's room in my pocket, that they were nicely trapped, although, as it would not take them long to burst open the door i had just secured, it behoved me to lose no time in setting about what was to be done. lighting my candle, i found no difficulty in making my way to the great staircase, to the head of which, indeed, the corridor ran, and so down to the hall. the entrance door was barred and locked, but there was something else for me to think of before escaping; so, protecting the light with my hand, i hastened on, looking into every room, trying every door, in my hurried search for asta von winterstein's prison. in vain. every room i could find was deserted; nor did any show signs of having been occupied by her. during my search i came across the body of the great hound, stretched lifeless, or nearly so, on the stone flagging of an inner hall. "a lucky thought of mine," i muttered; "that fellow prowling about the place would have spoiled my game, and probably cost me my life." as the minutes went on my desperate eagerness to find the prisoner increased. rushing hither and thither i plunged into every opening and passage that presented itself, but seemed now in the great rambling place to be getting farther away from all sign of human life. thinking my search hopeless in that direction i came back to the great hall, and determined, sheer madness though it seemed, to make a quest upstairs. the utter foolhardiness of this resolve has since been accounted for in my mind only by the fact that the excitement of the adventure was now strong upon me. i felt absolutely in honour bound to attempt the girl's rescue at all hazards, and by the conviction that i should never have even such a chance as this again. so i made a dash upstairs. i had hardly reached the top when i heard a cry, then a crash, followed by a shout and a sound of hurrying footsteps. i blew out my light. it was too late now. the men had broken out of the passage and were scouring the place for me. it was certain death if i did not take what small chance of escape was left to me. to rescue asta von winterstein that night, even if i had known where to find her, was out of the question. i set my teeth in grim disappointment and ran down the stairs again. to escape now by the front entrance was impossible; a flash of light told me the men were at the head of the stairs. but i had in my late search found and carefully noted the position of the postern door. this was led to by a short narrow passage opening out of another running at right angles across the end of the great hall. for this i made, finding it again without difficulty. here i was obliged to strike a light. it showed me to my dismay that my escape was cut off, the door was locked and no key to be seen. i threw down the match and pulled out my revolver. there, with my back to the door, i could keep the narrow passage perhaps against odds, or at least make a good fight for my life. any moment now my pursuers might come upon me. they seemed to be searching about the hall and the rooms adjacent to it. my discovery was a mere question of moments. i braced myself for the encounter and stood in readiness. i should be an easy target there if the ruffians had fire-arms, but even in that case i calculated i ought to be able to account for two or three of them before they could hit me. at that critical moment, as a faint indication of light told of my enemies' approach, a noise close by attracted my attention. some one was outside the door behind me. feet could be plainly heard on the steps; one of the men was evidently coming in. everything now hung on moments. if the count and his men inside the house should come upon me before the door opened it would mean that i should be attacked from behind as well, and my desperate chance of escape would be absolutely gone. the suspense of those few seconds brings a shudder even now in the writing. to my great relief the key grated in the lock, it turned, the door opened, and, just as a light flashed into the passage and a man's shout proclaimed he had discovered me, i sprang from my crouching attitude behind the door upon the astonished incomer, dealt him a smashing blow in the face, knocking him backwards down the steps into the moat, plunged in myself and began to swim my hardest, keeping along in the dark shadow of the walls. i did not swim far thus, knowing they would pursue me in the boat, but after going a short distance, struck across to land. luckily the night was dark with a drizzling rain, and it was not until i reached the bank that a cry told me i was seen. i fully expected a shot, if not a volley, but none was fired. next instant i was in the wood and comparatively safe. i ran through to the boundary wall, climbed it, and then stayed to listen for sounds of pursuit. none were to be heard. after a while i ventured to make my way by a circuitous path to the inn, which i reached without becoming aware of any signs of my late host or his gang. with some difficulty i succeeded in rousing the landlord, made an excuse for my late return, threw off my wet clothes, and tumbled into an honest bed after a very pretty night's adventure. chapter xxx a discovery next morning i sent a boy to the monastery with a note. "dear count,-- "i regret to have to inform you that i was forced to leave your roof abruptly at an early hour this morning in consequence of the unwarrantable intrusion into my bedroom of a person who came, i fancy, with no very good intent. may i suggest that your present domestic arrangements are liable to cause your known hospitality to be misjudged. i return herewith the key of my room, having been simple enough to suppose that locking my door would secure privacy. please make my apologies to my hostess for my unceremonious departure." i had scarcely dispatched the note when strode came in. "ah! i was just starting to look you up," i said. he nodded and sat down as i ordered some refreshment. "lucky i just caught you," he replied, "or we might have missed one another in the woods. i'm not one for keeping to the path." it was evident from his manner that he had something to tell me. when we were alone, he said: "lucky your friend, von what's-his-name, got off when he did. there was a fellow after him at my place last night." i had thought that not improbable, and asked him all about it. "chap loafed in, said he had lost his way; jaw enough to make a bagman sick, agreeable though, but a deuced scoundrelly cut to his jib." "i ought to have warned you." "thanks, old fellow, it didn't matter. i totted him up and set him down, thereafter keeping an eye on him. thinks i, my friend, you're on the track of von t'other-chap, and i'll have some fun with you. so i made out i was worrying about a friend, a german friend, who was staying with me and who must have lost his way. that was just what my swivel-eyed johnnie wanted, and he hung on for all he knew, gassing away enough to blow the windows out. well, it struck me that was just what we wanted; to cross the scent and let our man get away while the hounds were at fault. so i let the fellow jaw away for all he was worth while i was all the time thinking out the best trick to play him. i asked the fellow if he'd have something to drink, slipped out under pretence of fetching it, gave the office to the boy who helps his grandmother, the old woman who keeps house for me, and in a few minutes he brought in a gun and a message from the herr, that he was going to stay in carlzig that night, and would join me in the morning. now as our friend is making tracks in just the opposite direction from carlzig that seemed good enough." "quite. you ought to have done him a good turn there. strode." "hope so. of course i shammed to be much relieved at hearing he hadn't come to grief, and, as i expected, my lippy friend suddenly discovered it was getting late. i put him on his road for pattenheim, and then watched. no need to say when he thought he was out of sight he doubled back and went, stretched out, for carlzig. that's all. thought it might interest you." "very good of you, strode. now, shall we be getting off? and on the way i will tell you my story." we were just starting when, somewhat to my surprise, a reply to my note came from the count. it was full of the most profuse apologies, with an explanation to the effect that an inmate of the monastery had been suddenly seized in the night with a fit of insanity to which he was subject, and it was he who had so unfortunately disturbed me. the writer regretted that the expected arrival of a visitor prevented his waiting upon me at that moment to express his regrets in person, but he hoped to do so later in the day. a very pretty piece of humbug; the surprising part was that the count should have given himself the trouble to compose it. but perhaps it was intended to serve for a diplomatic explanation. i flung the precious note across to strode. "come along," i said, "and i'll tell you what it all means." we shouldered our guns and set off towards his shooting ground. on the way i related the whole story, more particularly that part which concerned asta von winterstein. when i came to my adventure of the previous night he was greatly excited. "by jove! that was a tight corner. i shouldn't have kept my head as you did. i should have emptied my revolver among the scoundrels and then gone under." "chance stood my friend, as it has done all through," i said. "no doubt the fellow i knocked into the moat was the man who had been holding forth to you earlier in the evening, and was just home from carlzig." strode laughed. "i envy you that drive. i could have throttled the brute as he sat jawing away at me; only that was not my line of country." we then discussed the situation, and agreed that we were bound to do our utmost to help the imprisoned girl. if only we could be sure she was there. "perhaps we two may be able to make more of the business than one," strode said. "anyhow, if i'm not intruding, and you want me, i'm your man." i thanked him, and before parting that afternoon it was arranged that he should come over to the geierthal after dusk, and we would survey the possibilities together. so i left him and took my way back alone through the wooded hills. now chance, that had been so faithful to me, was not to jilt me yet. there was plenty of time before the hour at which my dinner was ordered; so to relieve my nerves by not taking matters too seriously, i strolled along the crest of the hills looking out for any shots that might come in my way. i brought off a good many, and after a while began to descend from the high ground towards the geierthal, my path being now one leading eventually almost direct to the monastery, that is to say, a good mile below my inn. with what i determined should be my last shot i knocked over a hare, but puss struggled up again and tried to make off. i ran after the animal to put it out of its pain, and, after some search and twistings, came up with her, threw down my gun, and catching up a handy stick gave her the _coup-de-grâce_. then i turned to take up my gun. it was nowhere to be seen. i had not gone five paces away from it, yet now, to my utter astonishment, it had mysteriously disappeared. i could hardly believe my senses, for i was surely alone in that spot. anyhow, the gun was not visible, and i thereupon began to search the place more closely, not without an uncomfortable feeling at the apparent mysteriousness of the thing. the ground was rough and broken. i carefully determined the spot where the gun must have fallen and proceeded to examine it methodically. suddenly the explanation came to me in uncomfortable fashion. my foot slipped unaccountably, slipped so far that i fell. hastily picking myself up, the cause became apparent. there was an unnoticed cavity in the ground. i examined it and was relieved to find my gun, which had lodged a short way below the surface. but the hole itself was deep; it was more than a chance fissure in the earth. it was curious enough at least to call for further investigation. clearing away with considerable trouble the earth and stones i enlarged the aperture sufficiently to be able to see what it really was. to my great astonishment i came presently upon a deep hollow space beneath. as it was quite dark i threw a stone in and listened. it struck and seemed to reach the bottom a few feet down. it was a passage, then. resolving to explore it, i worked away to enlarge the hole so as to afford some means of entrance, also of getting out again when i should be in. in about twenty minutes i had broken away enough round the hole for this purpose, and at once proceeded to let myself down. chapter xxxi the dark way i had not been mistaken; it was a subterranean passage that i had come upon. the floor seemed to be on a considerable incline, and on groping my way a few yards in the ascending direction i found a short flight of stone steps. certain light-admitting fissures in the earth above enabled me to see that these steps led to a sort of trap-door formed by a stone flag, giving exit, no doubt, to the surface above. had i but suspected this i might have saved myself half an hour's hard work; however, it was done now, and i turned to begin the descent of the passage. after passing my rough entrance i found myself faced, as the way ran deeper into the earth, by absolute darkness. feeling in my pocket for my matchbox, i happily came upon the piece of candle which i had slipped into it the night before when the holder had served me so effectually for a weapon. this on being lighted seemed but to intensify the blackness in front of me, but at least it would keep my feet from pit-falls. the passage, damp, mouldy, and foul-smelling from the confined atmosphere, led downwards, and then having reached a certain depth, its course became level. on and on i went, the candle burning dimly in the vitiated air. but the way was clear, and, putting aside the influence of the dismal surroundings one could walk on without much discomfort. the passage seemed never ending, yet the farther it led me on, the higher was my curiosity raised to find the end of it. suddenly the ground began to dip again and a fairly long descent followed. this again was succeeded by a level stretch, but here the aspect of the tunnel changed. the roof and sides were covered with a slimy green ooze, the air became dank and chill, the darkness, if possible, more impenetrable. clusters of nitre hung in fantastic shapes from the roof; the sensation of being buried alive was almost overpowering. but an idea which during my progress had gradually been taking shape in my head was now practically confirmed. the mysterious passage i calculated led direct towards the monastery. this was the only conceivable explanation of its existence. the reason of the sudden dive and the reeking walls was that it was now running under the moat. if so, and there was scarcely room for doubt, it must lead to some part of the monastery. this thought spurred me on to pursue my way through about as abominable a bolt-hole as man ever devised. but i was now at the end. the tunnel stopped abruptly at a winding flight of stone steps. up these i climbed, laboriously enough, for no pains had been wasted on convenience; ascent was just practicable, and no more. when at length the top was reached i found my head against a wooden trap-door. i expected that this would be the end of that afternoon's exploration, but to my joy i found that it was not fastened. very cautiously i pushed it upwards, the shower of dust which was dislodged being almost welcome after the damp, noisome air i had been breathing. i found myself emerging into what seemed a cellar, anyhow a good-sized room in the basement of the monastery. nothing was to be heard; so far i was safe enough. i came up out of the stairway and set about discovering where it had landed me. i had judged it expedient to put out my candle, for only just enough remained to take me back again, and the light might betray me. so i had to grope about in semi-darkness. the first thing was to feel round the walls for an outlet, and presently my touch told me the door was reached. this yielded to a push and i passed through. i was now in a passage at the farther end of which a faint light shone. very, very cautiously now i stole along, stopping between each long, wary step to listen. as i drew near the light i could see that it came from a doorway which opened upon the passage. my position seemed risky in the extreme; gradually i neared the light, scarce daring to breathe. nothing was to be heard, anxiously as i listened. at last i had crept to the doorway, and, after a pause, ventured to peep in. then i saw that the light came through the barred window of an inner room. having made certain of this and that the outer chamber was empty, i moved across till i could look through the window. the first glance showed me a sight which amply repaid all my toil and danger. chapter xxxii asta at last the room into which i looked was furnished in a style surprisingly in contrast to its situation. the walls were hung with rich brocaded curtains, the furniture and ornaments in the apartment were those of a luxuriously appointed boudoir. there appeared to be no window in the room save that (and it was practically none) through which i was spying, but it was lighted by several delicately-shaded lamps, which added to its cosy appearance. on a couch a girl sat reading. i needed not to wait till she looked up to be certain that it was asta von winterstein. my heart gave a great throb of joy to find that after all she was alive; but poor girl! thought i, what a prison, what a fate! there was hope, however, now that i had found her, and i longed to be able to communicate my hope to her. she looked pale, as was natural, but wonderfully beautiful; there was a dignity about her expression now which had not been noticeable in the lively bantering girl i had danced with at buyda. my one thought now was how to attract her notice without jeopardizing the chance which fate had thrown in my way. just as i had made up my mind to tap very softly at the glass between us, the girl suddenly raised her head and, following her glance, i saw a movement in the curtain at the further side of the room. next moment it was pushed aside and another girl entered--the girl whom i had known as miss seemarsh. she brought in a tray with tea and dishes of cakes and confectionery. i thought of the count's special bon-bons, and wondered whether fräulein asta was running the same risk. perhaps not; they evidently had some object in keeping her alive, or why was the tragedy not already accomplished? delay was certainly not one of the jaguar's methods. the girl set down the tray on the table which she placed by the prisoner's side. they spoke a few words to each other, and then the girl began to move about the room, putting things tidy in a desultory sort of way, and occasionally making a laughing remark to asta, who replied wearily. as she went about the room she took something out of a small dark box. then turning round she seated herself carelessly on the arm of a large chair, and i could see that the object in her hands was a concertina. she held it up and played the first few bars of a lively operatic air. then i shrewdly guessed her to have been also the pretended wandering boy musician i had seen at the inn. she had, no doubt, been sent to spy upon me and von lindheim, and her position in the count's household was clear. her music evidently worried the other, for she said something to the girl, who at once left off playing, replaced the instrument, and shortly afterwards left the room. it now seemed that a favourable opportunity had come of making my presence known to the prisoner. i tapped softly on the pane. the fräulein, who had resumed her listless attitude of reading, raised her head in surprise and listened. i tapped again. she looked in my direction now almost in terror. standing as i did in comparative darkness she could probably see nothing of me. i brought my face close to the glass, and spoke her name. she must have seen me then, for she rose, laid down her book, and stood irresolute for a few seconds, seemingly between fear and joy. she went quickly to the door, drew aside the curtain which hung before it, and seemed to satisfy herself that no one was near. then she ran towards me. i shall never forget the look on her face as she crossed the room. it was radiant. when she saw me, every trace of apprehension vanished. but the glass and the bars were between us; her face was as close to them on one side as mine was on the other. i put my hands round my mouth. "can you open the window?" i said. she heard me, for she examined the window and then shook her head. it was evidently not intended to open, the leaded glass having been put in apparently recently to cover what had been a bare aperture, open but for the bars. i took out my knife and proceeded to loosen one of the panes by easing the leaden frame away from its edges. the girl had made signs that she would keep watch by the door while my work was going on; in about five minutes i had the satisfaction of being able to take out the pane, and then she came back to me. "i got your fan, fräulein." "you! that night in buyda?" "yes. it fell at my feet." "heaven be thanked! and you have come to save me?" "i hope so. i have worked to that end ever since i read your message." "ah, you are brave! but you do not know the dangers of this horrible place." "indeed i do, at least a few of them. but tell me, fräulein, are you in immediate danger--of your life?" she looked troubled. "i cannot tell. i am dead, practically to the world. you are the only one, except these villains here, who know that i am alive. and so my life, being nothing in the world, hangs by a thread which any moment may be snipped." "fräulein, you must not despair. i will save you or give my life for you." "oh!" she cried miserably. "why have you come? i had given up all hope. i was resigned to my fate. now the sight of you, of a friend, has made me feel i cannot die. and yet there is no escape. these wretches are pitiless, and even if they were not, what are they but the creatures of him who never spares? the very air of this vile place is death. i had heard of the hostel of st. tranquillin in my happy days, but little thought i should spend my last hours here." she was weeping in a piteous state of distress. i strove, in spite of natural misgivings, to comfort her, bidding her hope for a speedy escape. "ah, it is impossible!" she said when i had told her of the secret way. "if we should escape it would be but for a few hours which would bring us certain death. and yet to stay here may be worse than death." she ran again to the door, listened, and returned. "shall i tell you," she said, "why i, who am mourned as dead, am permitted to live--if only for a little?" "the princess's marriage----" "ah, you know of that! yes; that fatal escapade. we little thought how terrible its consequences were to be, how swiftly the jaguar was to strike. he, rallenstein, naturally determined on my death, but was shrewd enough to know that my father is powerful, so he would strike cunningly. i was to die two deaths, the first a false one, so that the chancellor might see how my relations accepted it; and when he should have nothing to fear from them, then i, already dead to the world, was to die in reality, like poor von orsova. that is why i am brought here. probably rallenstein already believes me dead, but this man, furello----" "ah!" i could guess the story now. "he is in love with you?" she nodded. "he will spare my life if i will marry him. marry him! ah, _mein gott!_ is it not horrible? this murderer, this unspeakable villain. be his wife! and for how long? he dare not let me live even if he should wish. already they say he has killed one wife and is secretly married now." "to a lady whom he passes off as his sister. she knows you are here?" "i cannot tell. what must her life be, poor woman!" "i fancy she suspects the truth." "ah!" "she saved my life last night by a timely warning." the girl's eyes filled with tears. "and you risked it for me! you shall not. it is not worth it. i am a dead woman. you must think of me no more. it was wicked, it was cruel of me to throw you my fan. but i was desperate, in deadly fear which is over now, and i little thought----" "that the fan would fall at the feet of one who would gladly give his life even in the most impossible attempt to save you," i interrupted vehemently. "fräulein, i entreat you, do not give yourself up for lost while there is a beat left in my heart or your own. mine is the worthless life, not yours. let me give it for you if need be; nay, i must, whether you will or not. if only time be yet on our side! let me not waste it now. what we have to do is to remove these bars and then the rest should be easy." i struck a light and examined the extremities of the irons which crossed the window. they were simply secured to the sides by heavy screws; nothing but a wrench would be needed to remove them. so that was hopeful enough. i told the prisoner, who had been on guard at the door, how easy her escape should be. but there was much to think of and plan before the attempt could be made. for if it failed her death would be logically certain. she saw that. "as it is it may be too late," she said. "i am dead already to every one but these people and you." she made a little despairing grimace; her natural liveliness still flickered, though nearly quenched by those gloomy and terrifying surroundings. "you are very much alive to me, fräulein," i returned warmly; "and by the help of providence shall be so soon to the rest of the world. but premature action would be fatal. you must make up your mind to another four-and-twenty hours in this place." "if i dared hope--for twenty-four seconds----" "you must call cunning to our aid. to bridge over the time in safety between now and freedom, life----" "ah!" she cried. "herr tyrrell, don't make me hope. it is cruel." "indeed, no, if we walk warily. you must temporize with the count. appear inclined to relent. i can leave that to your wit. only keep things as they are till to-morrow evening, when i will return, not to leave without you. now, i hate to go, fräulein, but the risk to you in staying is too great. keep a good heart; above all do not let anyone see that you have hope, and trust me." she gave me the sweetest little nod of courage and thanks and stretched her hand through the bars. as i kissed it i felt i could never let it go. but prudence reasserted itself, and we parted. i had little difficulty in finding my way back through the subterranean passage. the horrors of the place, its murkiness, the dripping roof and walls, the dank, unwholesome atmosphere were as nothing to me now. the vile way led from darkness to light; and by the time i had traversed it and reached the entrance and the open air my plans for the morrow's attempt were formed. chapter xxxiii an ominous visit at the inn strode was waiting for me in some impatience, if not alarm, fearing foul play, from the delay in my return. after dinner we lit our cigars and strolled out. then i told him the whole story, which indoors i had dared only hint at. i should have taken him into my confidence anyhow, situated as i was, and feeling quite certain of his staunchness and grit; but, beyond that, i had come to the conclusion that his help would be absolutely necessary in the next night's most hazardous undertaking. this he readily promised, as i felt sure he would, and even with more alacrity than could have been counted on. "i shall simply revel in being your comrade in this affair, or humble servant, if you like," he said heartily. "i'm sick of hanging and mooning about, taking pot-shots at birds and vermin, with an occasional wink at a stupid grinning peasant girl. ah, my dear fellow, i've been in the swim, and know what it is; slow enough, heaven knows, at the best; i've gone under through my own folly, and if you knew what the feeling is, the sense of failure and degradation, you wouldn't wonder that the excitement of a business like this is like brandy to a knocked-out man. i was thinking i'd have soon to get up a shine on my own account, but this will suit me far better; we have the merit of a decent action at our backs and are not a pair of idiots joining in a scrimmage out of sheer devilry. why, hang it! man, there's a touch of the old-time chivalry about the racket, with brainwork thrown in. yes; i'm your man, to see you through this little frolic, and be thankful for the chance." we talked over the plan i had laid and the necessary preparations. the delay kept me in a disagreeable state of chafing and suspense, but we both voted it to be unavoidable. to have any chance of success, the attempt had to be made by night, and that night it was impracticable. our walk had taken us near the entrance to the tunnel. "i don't know what it is," i said, "but now the way is found, i feel i cannot keep from that poor girl's prison." "you are going through?" strode asked. "will you let me come with you? i may as well get the hang of the place." with the half-formed intention, i had provided myself with a supply of light. we let ourselves down into the passage and set forward towards the monastery, scarcely purposing, perhaps, to reach the other end. but we groped on and on, strode often making me smile by his characteristic comments and ejaculations. neither of us suggested turning back, until some twenty minutes' uneasy progress brought us to the steps leading to the trap-door. here we stayed awhile. "so we are actually within the walls of that cursed den of iniquity, are we?" strode observed. "look here! we've got our revolvers; i'm game, if you are, to carry the place by surprise and hurry these hellish johnnies to the warm quarters that are waiting for them." i knew that was sheer madness, so checked his ardour. at the same time, however, this dare-devil ally of mine gave me a very pleasant feeling of confidence. "before we return," i said, "i have a good mind to run up and see that all is yet well. it is worth while as we are so near." strode laughed and nodded sagaciously. "all right, mein herr. can't say i see the utility of the move since you don't fall in with my suggestion, but then probably utility is not altogether your motive. i'll wait for you here. don't make a fool of yourself, that's all." i was already up the steps, and in a few seconds had passed through the trap-door. it was pitch dark, but the way was familiar now, and i found the passage without difficulty. if i expected to see the light at the farther end i was disappointed; all was dark. i groped my way along on tip-toe till the wall against my hand came to an end at the entrance of the room into which the prison window looked. all was dark here too. i crept to the window but could see nothing, hear nothing. if there had been a light in the room some indication would have been visible, even though the curtain were carefully drawn across the window. no. i was satisfied that the room was in darkness. and yet it was almost too early for the prisoner to have retired for the night. the darkness and silence might mean nothing, and yet they filled me with a horribly uncomfortable surmise. i stood for a while in a state of indecision. but i could not bring myself to turn back in that spirit of uncertainty. i was committed to the business, my whole heart and soul were in it now, and the risk was nothing to me. the idea that i had that afternoon perhaps missed a chance, even if ever so desperate, of rescuing the prisoner maddened me. of course all might be well and my anxiety groundless, but looking at the situation as calmly as i could it was impossible, knowing furello and his creatures, not to fear. with no exact purpose except to look about for what chance might show me, i made my way from the room and proceeded to explore the long passage further. it was an utterly rash and foolish move, but the impulse was strong upon me, and the very stillness of the place led me on. i ventured now to strike a light which showed me a distant door, towards which i hastened. contrary to my expectations it was unlocked. i passed through it quietly; still all was darkness, and the same oppressive silence. another lighted match showed me i was in a large basement room with a flagged floor, green with disuse. a door was opposite; i crossed and opened it. darkness still. but another match revealed a flight of steps. i crept up and passed through yet another door. then, by the aid of my light, i recognized my whereabouts. i was in a kind of inner courtyard on which i had lighted in my search the night before. to find my way to the great hall was now an easy matter, though risky enough. arrived there, i stood awhile and listened. the same death-like stillness pervaded the place. what light from without penetrated through the high, dark coloured windows was just enough to show me indistinctly the objects around. i took out my revolver and crept to the stairs, then suddenly i stopped, hearing voices. men's voices, indistinct, and at some distance. i turned aside, drawing stealthily, yard by yard, nearer to the sound. i dared not waste time, fearing what rash thing strode might do if i stayed too long. the hangings on the walls helped me now as they had done before; a man could, with care, move along behind them without much fear of detection. a little farther on i seemed quite close to the voices, and recognized the count's; but the direction from which it came puzzled me, until i discovered a kind of grating or loophole in the door of the room from which the sound proceeded. i was preparing to look through, when suddenly i started, thunderstruck. the count's voice had ceased and another replied, a voice which i knew at once, the most dreaded in that kingdom--rallenstein's. as i recovered from the momentary shock of something more than surprise, i looked through the grating. yes; there he was, the terrible chancellor, sitting back in a great easy chair, at his side a small table with wine and fruit, and before him furello, standing with hands clasped behind him, the fingers, as i noticed, for his back was towards me, working as with passion or strong excitement. if the count's face (which i could not see) was ruffled, the chancellor's was as impassive and inscrutable as ever. "you will hardly persuade me, my dear count," he was saying in that smooth masked voice which i knew so well, "that you have blundered through stupidity. you are no fool--or you would not be here--at all." the sinister significance with which he spoke the last words was indescribable. "and," he went on, "i tell you frankly, i am far from satisfied." furello drew himself up and spoke more quietly now. "in matters of this sort at least i am not fool enough to look for explicit instructions. your excellency has been accustomed to convey your wishes in hints. acting on them i have done your work faithfully. there are words better left unsaid, wishes better----" "pfui, count!" rallenstein interrupted with a wave of the hand. "you are trifling. you should know well enough what my real instructions were. i told you expressly the girl might be wanted. that it might be necessary to produce her." "at that time. but the time is past. surely it was inconceivable that you really wished her kept alive. who could have foreseen what you have just told me, the secret marriage of prince theodor?" "that is all no business of yours," the chancellor returned, with a momentary lapse from his usual bland manner to a sneer that was almost brutal. "when i saved your neck from the gallows-rope, it was on the understanding that you should yield me implicit obedience, that the life i gave you was to do my will. you are not required to think for yourself, and you had best beware how you take upon yourself to do so. let me remind you that that rope with the ugly knot in it still dangles. enough! i do not trouble to concern myself with your motives--oh, do not protest"--for the other had made a deprecating gesture--"i am no fool either, and know men do not thwart my will for nothing--for nothing. so! and the girl is dead. she _is_ dead?" such a searching look, so fierce, so threatening, so piercing, that i wondered how the count had nerve to answer quietly. "three days ago." "ha! and buried--where?" "in the wood, by the grave of herr pfarrer gerrsdorff. if your excellency wishes to be satisfied----" "i am satisfied, mein graf," rallenstein said sharply, "that you have played me a knavish trick; and i know not yet that it has been with impunity. recollect that an unnecessary crime is the worst of blunders." "not so unnecessary, excellency," the count protested as the other tossed off a glass of wine as dismissing the subject. "one of my reasons for the haste by which i regret to have offended you was that our meddling englishman has been here." rallenstein nodded. "i know it. now there, my dear count----" there was significance enough in the aposiopesis to make me shudder. the count laughed; he was evidently beginning to feel easier. "we made a good attempt," he replied grimly. "but the fellow wriggled out of our hands somehow. bleisst says he must be own brother to the devil himself." the conversation, if flattering, had become less momentous. i had heard enough; and the thought of strode urged me to retreat while i could do so with safety. i slipped back to the inner hall, and thence found my way to the entrance of the long passage. as i was hurrying along this, i suddenly came into collision with some one, and next instant was seized very prettily by the throat. luckily the pressure left just room enough to allow me to get out the word "strode!" when to my double relief the fingers relaxed, and the englishman's voice said: "a million apologies, my dear fellow, only i had to make sure. i was coming after you, as the love-scene appeared to have lasted long enough. hope i haven't hurt you?" it was no place for conversation, and it was not until we were safely through the trap-door that i stayed to tell what i had heard. "you don't think the girl has come to any harm?" strode inquired as we began to grope our way outwards. "i have my fears about it. if this visit of rallenstein's has taken the count by surprise, there is no telling to what extremities panic may have driven him. on the other hand, he may simply have hidden her away more securely. he said she had been murdered three days ago." "the black scoundrel!" "whereas, we know she was alive this afternoon. i have hope there." "and that is the most likely thing to have happened. i'd stake my life on hers up to now. only there is no time to be lost, if we have to take this devil's den by assault to-morrow." "let's hope force won't be necessary," i said. "it would be simple madness, however justifiable. much will depend on the length of rallenstein's stay." "that won't be long," strode replied confidently. "put yourself in the old jaguar's place and ask yourself how long you'd feel inclined to stay in that rural chamber of horrors." so discussing the chances of the situation, we at length reached the entrance, and without further incident returned to our inn. chapter xxxiv we outstrip our fortune next morning i packed a small valise and paid the landlord, telling him we were going on a shooting expedition to a district some twenty miles off, whence the time of our return might be uncertain. then we set off for carlzig. our first business there was to buy a carriage and a pair of fast horses. this was not an easy matter, and it was some hours before we found just what we wanted. but at last we got hold of two good strong-winded animals and a serviceable light carriage, somewhat like an old-fashioned _calèche_, our pretext being that we intended them for a driving tour through the country. we then laid in a stock of provisions, bought another revolver each, with a good supply of cartridges, and having provided ourselves with the necessary tools for the removal of the bars, we were ready. we had an early dinner, and afterwards drove quietly out of the town. strode, who was going to be coachman, had mounted the box, and i drove inside so as to avoid observation as much as possible. by an indirect route and at an easy pace we made our way to a spot we had settled upon, perhaps a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the underground passage. here, in a wild piece of woodland approached by a rough grass road, the carriage could stay with very little chance of attracting attention even from the count's spies. we had agreed that i should go through to the monastery alone, for if the prisoner should be in the same room there would probably, unless we were interrupted, be no difficulty in my effecting her release single-handed; if, on the other hand, i could not find her, or any unexpected difficulty should arise, i was to hurry back for strode. it was now dusk--almost dark. i put the tools in my pocket and hastened impatiently to the entrance of the passage. i had bought a small lantern in carlzig, and with this protection for my light was able to make much quicker progress, especially as the way was now familiar. i reached the steps and trap-door; left my lantern at the bottom and passed through. then, as i drew near, a horrible fear came upon me that a few steps would show me the disappointment to which i might be doomed. i scarcely dared approach the doorway where my worst fears might in an instant be confirmed. the momentary weakness was overcome and i peered out into the passage. to my intense joy and relief a faint glimmer of light fell across it at half its length. in a few seconds i was by the window. approaching cautiously, i heard no sound of voices; the curtains were drawn slightly apart, i peeped through and saw fräulein asta sitting there alone. a tap on the glass brought her joyfully to the window. in reply to my sign of inquiry she nodded that all was safe, so without delay i set to work on the screws that held the bars. they had evidently been recently put in and yielded readily to the wrench. one after another the bars were turned down while the prisoner kept watch by the door. in a few minutes every obstacle was removed; i beckoned, and the fräulein ran to the window and opened it. "is all safe?" were my first words. "yes," she answered. "i do not think telka will return, and the count"--she gave a little shudder--"is away. oh, i have feared!" "and i too. but we will talk of that presently when you are safe. quick, now; bring a chair. so. now let me lift you through." her arms were round my neck, and i had little difficulty in drawing her through the open window. "so far good," i said; "let me replace the bars to throw them off the track." the delay was risky, but i judged it worth while to prevent the prisoner's manner of escape from being too obvious. pursuit would be certain in any case, and this precaution might gain us time. the bars were soon in position. "now, fräulein, quick! let me hold your arm and guide you. the way is not easy." i led her along the dark passage and so to the trap-door. "once down here i trust we shall be safe," i said, lifting it. the girl hesitated a moment--the descent was not inviting--then, holding my hand, crept down. i took up my lantern and went on in front, for there was no room for us to walk abreast. the dark, dripping, noisome gallery must have seemed horrible to the girl, but she kept bravely on at my heels, i guiding and encouraging her as best i could, considering how hurried our progress had to be. "we are nearly at the end now," i was able at length to say, and then we began the ascent which brought us to the entrance. bidding her stay a moment while i reconnoitred, i scrambled warily up till my head was just enough above ground to look about. all seemed safe, so pulling myself out of the hole, i lifted my companion after me, and we set off for the place where the carriage was waiting. as we came in sight of strode he waved his hand joyfully. "this is better than i dared to hope," was his excited greeting. the girl gave him a grateful nod and smile--there was no time for words as we hurried into the carriage--the good fellow sprang up and set his horses going as fast as he dared down the bumpy lane. in ten minutes, however, the jolting ceased; we had struck the high road, along which we began to bolt at a rare pace. i now had time to notice that my companion was evidently feeling the unusual exertions and excitement she had just gone through. she lay back half-fainting. i hastily opened a flask of wine; this revived her. she was a plucky girl, and in a few minutes had so far recovered as to be able to laugh at her weakness and begin to chat. "i was in the monastery again last night," i said. "again! why did you come?" she asked. "i could not keep away. the feeling that you were in such danger was too strong for me, and i wanted, in case of accidents, to show strode the way." perhaps she felt intuitively that there had been a more strongly impelling reason behind the others. anyhow her look was more than grateful as she said: "it was rash of you to venture again. if i had known you were there i should have been terribly anxious. for they took me away to a distant part of the building." "you know why?" "rallenstein had come unexpectedly." "i know." "you know?" she cried in surprise. "yes. i saw him." "herr tyrrell! what fearful risks you run." "i admit, fräulein, it was foolish, since it was scarcely fair to you. but at least i heard some interesting news." "tell me." "that prince theodor cannot marry your princess." "cannot?" "for he is secretly married already. so it follows that these ghastly political murders have all been unnecessary. there is every reason now why you should live." "ah!" "but unfortunately you died three days ago." "i died--three days ago!" "so count furello told his excellency." she thought a moment. "ah, yes, i understand." "so it seems to me, fräulein, that now it is only the count you have to fear." she gave a little shudder. "and that is bad enough. but at least i would rather a million times have his hate than his love. ah, i cannot bear to think of it, yet i must tell you. about half an hour after you had gone yesterday the count came to my prison room. he told me that to let me live was as much as his life was worth. his own risk was so great that only upon one condition would he face it. of course you guess the condition; that i would marry him; otherwise that day must be my last. 'remember,' he urged in his smooth hateful voice, 'you are already dead in theory. the grave is dug for you in the wood outside; in ten minutes from the moment i give the word you will be lying in it. it is painful for me to have to tell you this, but my life is precious too; i cannot afford to risk it unless i have a stake to play for.' "i pretended to be in great fear and distress, which perhaps was not all pretence--but for your brave discovery what should i have felt? i begged for time; i could not die, i was too young for that, and yet--how could i love him at once? you see what a hypocrite i can be. he was rejoiced, when he saw signs of my yielding, at the success of his appeal. he went down on his knees and vowed he would gladly risk his life for one loving look from me, that he would be my slave--i need not recapitulate the hateful scene. happily it was interrupted, just as i was beginning to fear i could not stave off his love-making without arousing his suspicions. the girl telka came in; he turned upon her, furious at the interruption. she said to him under her breath, yet loud enough in her flurry for me to catch the words, 'rallenstein is here!' he turned grey at the news, and his face changed to the index of the man he really is." "i can well imagine it," i said. "it was a critical moment for you." "yes. he turned upon me in panic with such a look in his eyes, a look in which fear, desperation, irresolution, cruelty, and what he would call love were all mingled. ah! it was horrible. then he took telka out of the room, and the suspense of the next few minutes, when i was left alone, was so fearful that i almost fainted with terror. at last the door opened and telka came back, followed by a wretch named bleisst----" "i know. the count's head villain." "if you know him you will realize what my feelings were at the sight. then, indeed, i was sure that my last moment had come. my heart almost stopped with terror; oh, it was awful, the thought of having to die like that, there in that horrible place, and just as the hope of life and liberty had come to me. telka came close up and spoke to me. i was so sick and beside myself with fear that at first i did not comprehend her words. i cried out in my agony for mercy, for the count--fancy my wishing his presence! the girl spoke again, entreating more plainly, and i understood her then. i was to be removed to a hiding-place in another part of the monastery, for the chancellor was to suppose me dead. no harm would befall me unless he discovered my whereabouts; everything would depend upon my keeping quiet and obeying orders. i mistrusted them----" "naturally. no other feeling in that place could be possible." "no, and bleisst is the very incarnation of treachery. still i could only obey. he told me pleasantly he had orders to shoot me on the spot if i resisted. so i went with them, telka leading the way, bleisst following me, pistol in hand. i felt like a condemned prisoner on my way to the scaffold, but it was not to be as bad as i feared. we went on for a long while, through dark passages, across vault-like chambers, till at length we ascended to a room on an upper floor. here bleisst went to the fire-place and unscrewed one of a row of knobs in the woodwork. into the hole thus discovered he inserted a key. on turning this the jamb of the mantel revolved, disclosing a narrow aperture just wide enough for a person to pass through. telka entered this, bidding me follow. i went in and found myself in a small chamber not much larger than this carriage. "'you are to stay here till the chancellor is safely gone,' telka said. 'we shall bring you your meals as usual. it is uncomfortable, but it is necessary, and you have nothing to fear.' "i had a great deal to fear; my imagination told me that this might be my living grave. what better way to get rid of me than to leave me here to starve and die? the girl went, warning me that any attempt to escape would seal my fate. she is an extraordinary creature, of a nationality unknown even to herself; the daughter of a spy; she seems to have lived everywhere and to know everything. i have always thought she has hated me under her pretence of sympathy. so the door shut upon me and i was left alone with my thoughts; you may fancy how anxious and bitter they were." "in the idea that our plan was rendered futile." "yes; i thought of you, and of all your courage, and the danger you had faced, and how they were to go for nothing. but there i was, helpless, well-nigh hopeless again. i would have given anything to have been able to send you a message, but that was impossible. here was a prison within a prison. i stayed there in darkness for a long while--hours, it seemed; at last the muffled sound of the slowly opening door brought my terrors back to me. it was telka with a lantern and some refreshments. the sight of this rejoiced me as evidence that the fear of starvation was groundless. i could even eat a morsel and drink some wine. "'his excellency is still here,' she said. 'directly he is well on his way you shall be released.' "she gave me one of her cunning smiles and disappeared. "so i passed the night trying to get sleep on some rugs which had been provided for my bed. in the morning telka brought my breakfast. "'courage!' she said. 'his excellency is about to start, and your release will come soon. it is lucky he did not suspect you were lying here so snug.' she laughed, and left me without another word. but in about an hour she returned and beckoned me to come out. bleisst was waiting, and they conducted me back to my former prison room. my joy at getting there with the hope of escape was so great that i feared telka's sharp eyes might notice it. i feigned to be so upset and ill by the night i had passed that i could only go to bed. by this i hoped to avoid a visit from the count, and certainly i was left to myself all day. towards evening telka came in and told me that the count had accompanied rallenstein from the geierthal that morning, but was expected back that night. i still pretended to be very ill, and could see that the girl was quite unsuspicious of any idea of escape being so near at hand. i kept her with me for some time, then, as the critical hour approached, begged her to leave me for a good long sleep. left alone i made ready for my departure, and the rest you know. ah, those terrible days! can i ever thank my preserver enough for all you have risked for me?" in listening to her story i had not noticed that for some time past a storm had been gathering. it now burst over us with a violence peculiar to those regions of mountainous woodland. the words deprecating her gratitude, which was, however, delightful enough to me, were drowned in a terrific thunderclap which burst over us. the rain came down so violently, the wind swept round us in such gusts, that we became concerned for strode's welfare, exposed as he was to their full fury. but he returned a cheery, "all right! don't worry about me," to my entreaty that he would come into shelter. there was one thing, however, that the plucky fellow could hardly battle with, and that was the intense darkness that had enveloped us. not to be stopped altogether, he jumped down from his seat, ran to the horses' heads and led them on as well as he could. our progress was now necessarily slow, but it was something to keep moving at all, and strode was resolved that we should not stop. we watched anxiously for some indication of a break in the storm, but its fury continued unabated, indeed it seemed to increase. "this is madness, strode!" i shouted. "make the horses fast and come inside." not he. the rain would not melt him, he was determined to get us across the frontier by the morning, and we were yet miles from the little town where we had planned to change horses. so we went on for a while in the full pelting of the storm. suddenly a great flash of lightning seemed to sweep the road just in front of us. the horses reared in terror, then swerved, and, before strode could prevent it, one side of the carriage sank into a ditch at the roadside. "sit still!" strode cried. but i had jumped out to lighten the vehicle. each taking a horse's head, we soon had the carriage on the level again. "we can't go on in this," i expostulated. as i spoke another great flash showed us a house standing near the road a few yards farther on. i called strode's attention to it, and insisted that we should seek refuge there till the storm was over; and, as the result proved, it was lucky i overruled him. between us we led the horses up to the building, which proved to be a deserted and dilapidated wayside lodge. "at least there is perfect shelter here," i said as i assisted the fräulein to alight and hurried her into the tumble-down place. a ruinous shed stood beside the house and this afforded some sort of shelter for the horses. we gave them corn and made them as comfortable as we could. then i took some food and a bottle of wine from the carriage, and ran back to the house. by the aid of the lantern we were just preparing to make the best of our wretched quarters when strode rushed in with a more perturbed look than i had thought him capable of. he caught up the lantern and extinguished it, checking my exclamation with,-- "quick! help me to bar the door. they are after us! hark! they are outside!" chapter xxxv the attack i rushed with strode to the doorway, and for a moment could discern nothing in the intense darkness. but just as i was beginning to hope it might be a false alarm a flash of lightning showed me a man on horseback in the road some twenty yards away. it was hardly probable that he saw us in the same instant; anyhow, we could hear no voice above the raging of the storm. without another moment's delay we set ourselves to close the door, which hung to its post by a single hinge. "stay, for heaven's sake!" strode cried suddenly. "the pistols and cartridges are in the carriage. without them we are dead men." in another instant he had forced the door a little way open again and dashed out. it was an anxious twenty seconds for me, but in that time he was back with our second revolvers and the ammunition bags. "now," he said, "take the fräulein upstairs while i barricade this as well as i can." she had heard him, and, as i turned, was already climbing the crazy steps that led to the upper floor. "it is terrible," she said, trying, as i could see, to master her agitation, "if all you have done for me is to end in failure." "let us hope not," i replied. "strode may be mistaken. it is hardly conceivable----" my words were cut short by a shout and a loud beating on the door. i ran to the window of the front upper room and looked down. the storm was now gradually passing away; the intense darkness was relieved sufficiently for me to be able to make out the forms of several men standing before the house. that they were count furello and his followers there could be now little doubt. how they had tracked and overtaken us so quickly was surprising; but there they were, and we could only be thankful that an accident had given us a shelter in which to stand at bay. had we remained in the carriage a few minutes longer they would have surrounded us and we should not have had a chance. as i drew back from the window i heard the count's voice cry: "come out, you foul englishman, before i fetch and hang you." this pleasant invitation had scarcely left his lips when a shot rang out followed by a cry. in the hope that the leader of the gang had been accounted for, i sprang to the window only to hear to my disappointment the same hateful voice giving order to his men to fall back. "settled one of them, tyrrell!" strode called up to me. "we'll have some rare sport here." i was glad to think our enemies were one the fewer, and i sent a chance shot on my own account after them to hasten their retreat to a respectful distance. but i could not remain there leaving strode the impossible task of defending all the weak spots in the lower floor. "you will not be afraid to stay in this room alone, fräulein," i said, with probably more confidence than i felt. "i must back up strode downstairs. between us there is little doubt we can keep these ruffians out and drive them off, but strode cannot do it alone. you will trust us and not fear?" she shook her head with a little shudder. i had, in the stress of the moment, laid my hand on her shoulder. suddenly, before i could turn to leave her she flung her arms impulsively round my neck and kissed me twice. "darling! my own darling!" she cried, her voice trembling with excitement and fear. "if you are to die for me you shall know that i am grateful, that i love you." her cheek was pressed to mine. i whispered back my love in her ear, the love i had known, but had not dared to show. strode called me. "i must go now," i said. "if i am to die i have lived my life in this minute." we kissed again, as though it were the last kiss on earth, and i ran down to strode, my head whirling with joy. perhaps to him, who had rather anticipated the situation, my delay in coming to his call was not surprising. "if you don't look alive," he said reproachfully, "we shall be taken and strung up, or whatever your friends' favourite method may be of getting rid of people who annoy them. i dropped one of the brutes and they have drawn off in consequence. their obvious line now is to attack us on two or more sides, flank and rear; our game is to pick them off one by one till they are not more than two to one. i am only praying for the chance of a pot-shot at that scoundrelly count." all the time he was muttering thus to me we were busily examining the ground floor of the cottage and noting its vulnerable points. luckily the place was small and plainly built. a narrow passage ran from the front door to the back, having on its one side simply the outer wall and the staircase, on the other the two lower rooms. as luck would have it, the rusty key was in the door of the front room. this with some little difficulty we were able to lock on the outside; consequently all fear of an entry through the front window was obviated. we had now simply to guard the two entrances and the window of the back room. so we stood, back to back, a revolver in each hand, grimly waiting the enemy's next move. there was little doubt that an attempt would be made at the back this time. we could not be certain how many men were with the count; the danger was that a combined rush might be made and a simultaneous entry effected through door and window. from our stand in the doorway of the room we should probably account for at least two of our assailants, but after that numbers would tell at close quarters and our chance would not be worth much. realizing this, i made a whispered suggestion to strode that we should abandon our present position and hold the staircase against them. "no," he answered, "we must keep them out as long as we can. we might hold the upper floor for a week, but once let these devils get into the place and the odds would be on their setting fire to it. they can't do that from outside, thanks to the rain." i saw at once the likelihood of that danger, and what an excellent stroke it would be to end furello's difficulty. presently strode touched me, and i turned, on the alert. he only nodded towards the window. something was moving; we could only guess what. strode covered it with his revolver and waited. then he fired. his shot seemed to be the signal for a regular volley which was poured into the room, but without touching us in our cover. "look out!" strode whispered. "they are bound to come now. keep the passage!" sure enough, as the words were spoken there was a rush from both window and door. we blazed away, each with both weapons, right and left, since anything like deliberate aim was impossible. our fire was returned; then our assailants seemed to fall back, but we could tell nothing clearly. in the midst of my excitement i heard strode ask: "are you hit?" "no," i replied. "i am," he said, "but it is not much. we can't hold this; the fun's all right but too risky for the girl. we must take to the upper regions and chance it." he was slipping in fresh cartridges as he spoke. "now," he said, "bang away, and make a rush for it. once up the stairs we are safe." through the hanging smoke in the passage nothing could be seen. i sent a shot through it and made a spring for the stairs. strode was on my heels; our fire was not returned, and we gained comparative safety. as we reached the landing we saw asta rush back to the room in terror, locking the door. "it is all right, fräulein," i cried. "we are both safe so far." at my voice the door was unfastened, and my love stood before me. "thank heaven!" she said. "i have been nearly mad with fear. i felt sure all must be over with you both. it is terrible that you should go through all this for me." "asta!" i whispered reproachfully. "it is only for you we fear, dearest." strode had evidently heard her. "we like it," he observed with a pre-occupied cheeriness, for he was hanging over the rails of the staircase keeping a sharp look-out. "it suits me exactly. if only we could get you, fräulein, away snugly, it might go on till this time to-morrow, eh, tyrrell?" i went to him. "your wound, strode?" "hush, don't bother about it," he answered. "it is only a graze on the shoulder. now, what are these devils about?" he muttered, "i can't see them, can you?" neither could i, so i went back to reconnoitre from the windows. at the back of the house, in what had been once the garden, a movement was perceptible. men were stirring, but so cautiously that nothing more was to be made out. i told strode of this, and he suggested my sending a shot or two at them. "it can't do any harm, with our stock of cartridges, and you might bring one of the brutes down, the count for choice, if that isn't too much to hope for." i returned to the window and promptly acted on this advice. my second shot i had reason to think took effect, for something like a smothered cry reached my ears. then the count's voice gave an order, upon which, so far as i could see, four men made a stealthy rush towards the house. "look out!" i called to strode. "they are upon us!" he sprang back to the top of the stairs as i joined him. for some seconds we heard nothing; then a slight noise, a foot accidentally striking against some object, gave warning that the enemy was near. strode waited a little, then cautiously leaned forward and sent down a shot. it was returned. "blaze away, man! they are on the stairs," he cried; and we did blaze away into the unseen. a dead silence followed. peering round into the darkness we waited for the next move. then we heard men stirring beneath. the slight noise of stealthy movement went on for some time; occasionally we could detect a whisper, that was all. suddenly there came a glimmer of light, but it showed us nothing. instead of dying away as i expected, it increased, and then we knew what we feared was about to happen. "are they firing the place?" a crackle of burning wood gave the answer; the light increased and spread. the danger now was critical. "we can't stand this," i said. "the old place will burn like matchwood. we must make a rush for it." strode muttered something between his teeth--a not very flattering comment on count furello and his methods. "if we hadn't to think of her," he said, jerking his head towards the room with the closed door, "we could sally out and meet these beasts, taking our chance. but with her we can't. stay here, while i go and see what i can do. nonsense! i'm the man to take the risk, not you." for i had begun to hold him back and demur. he threw me off and crept down the stairs. he stayed looking over the rail for a while, then came back to me. "i think," he said, "with fair luck i can put the fire out. there's not much alight, and our friends seem to have drawn off to see the fun. one chap is lying dead down there, so what with the others we've peppered there can't be many left. anyway, if i come across them there will be at least one fewer, if next moment is my last. i'm no good, so don't bother about me. think of the girl; it is our duty to get her out of this at any cost." so saying, he stole down again. at the bottom of the staircase he stayed a moment, then, darting forward, disappeared from my sight. next i heard a banging, as though he were trying to beat out the flames; then two pistol shots in rapid succession, followed by a laugh of exultation from strode. doubtful whether this should betoken good luck or bad, i called down to know if he was all right. "very much all right!" was the cheering answer. "i guess we're safe now." on that i ventured to leave my post, and ran down to him. he was kicking and stamping out the remains of the nearly extinguished fire. the old wood-work had been set alight in several places, and the door was half consumed. "i don't fancy the herr graf will trouble us much more to-night," he laughed. "pity i missed him, though. anyhow i put a bullet through some tender part of that other scoundrel's anatomy, if howling goes for anything. i say! our pot-shots have gone home much better than we could have hoped. strikes me we've tucked up most of them." "our luck----" i began, when, crack! a bullet whistled between us and went through the partition wall with a sharp plug. "whew! that was handy!" strode laughed, as by a common impulse we dropped on our hands and knees below the line of fire. "look to the passage," he whispered; "don't let them cut us off." i crept to the door and sent a couple of haphazard shots out into the night. strode crawled to the window and fired. then, detecting no sign of the enemy, it occurred to me that i ought to keep an eye on the floor above. scarcely had the thought passed through my mind when i heard a cry, the door of the upstairs room flung open, and asta calling me. i rushed up, meeting her on the stairs, and on into the room. "they are climbing to the window," she said, as i passed. the room was empty. i ran to the window and looked out. no one was to be seen; it was now pitch dark again. in the pauses of the wind i fancied i could hear a movement in the shrubs between the house and the road. i did not hesitate to send a shot in that direction. as the report died away, a laugh followed and a voice called out with startling unexpectedness. "well aimed, herr engländer!" it was furello. i made no reply, but waited. then out of the darkness came the vile voice again. "herr tyrrell! herr tyrrell!" it cried. "good-evening, count!" i replied mockingly. "good-night, herr tyrrell," he returned. "my compliments. you are a clever fellow, for an englishman. but you will need to be much cleverer when next we meet. so look to yourself and make the most of the few hours of life we leave you. _auf wiedersehen!_" the metallic voice had rung out so that not a word escaped me. then the wind dying fitfully away let me hear the sound of retreating hoofs, and i knew that for the time we were safe. i turned to find asta standing behind me. "victory! the attack is repulsed and the siege raised," i cried exultingly. her animated face showed that she had caught something of my confident spirit. but now that the immediate danger was past she was more reserved, and my respect bade me be content with simply the token of love and gratitude that her eyes gave me. it was not for me to profit by a moment of exaltation, when life and death trembling in the balance had hurried an avowal to lips which a few seconds might have closed for ever. i half expected to see that strode had followed me; as he did not appear i shouted to him, but to my surprise got no answer. in alarm i ran down, to find him stretched insensible on the floor where i had left him. chapter xxxvi restoration my distress and grief at the sight were beyond description. that the brave fellow who had been such a tower of strength and to whom we owed certainly our lives should have fallen in the moment of victory caused me the keenest grief i had ever felt. but happily it was not so bad as i feared. he was alive, his pulse was distinctly beating, so i rushed upstairs for a light and the brandy. on returning with asta we found that poor strode's coat and shirt were saturated with blood. the sight, though alarming enough, gave me hope that he had merely fainted, and this proved to be the case. the wound in his shoulder, which he had in those critical moments laughed off as a mere graze, was deep if not serious, and had bled profusely. the man's pluck and grit had been wonderful to enable him to fight on as he did, laughing and jesting, under such pain and weakness. in a few minutes our efforts at restoration were successful, and i think the most gratifying sight of my life was that of those brave grey eyes slowly opening. "it's all right, strode, dear fellow! why didn't you say you were hurt?" for answer he laughed and tried to rise, but the weakness was too great. "i'm all right directly," he murmured. "don't worry about me. the fräulein----" she was busy contriving a bandage for his wound. "we are all quite safe," she said cheerily. "you must keep quiet. mr. tyrrell is going to drive now and you will finish the journey in the carriage with me." he smiled. "what are the brutes doing? hope you hammered them?" i told him how they had been beaten off, and the news seemed to do him even more good than the brandy i was giving him. we washed and dressed his wound to the best of our skill; then, as haste was everything, i went out to prepare for our departure. i had taken but a few steps outside the house when i stumbled over the body of a man. he was evidently dead, and from the shortness of his stature i judged him to be the one who had dug the grave in the wood. i went on to the shed where we had left our carriage and horses. as i expected, our pursuers had done their best to deprive us of the means of flight by shooting our poor animals. the intention had, however, been very imperfectly carried out. both horses lay on the ground, dead, as i thought, but it turned out that only one had been killed. the other on my approach began to kick and struggle. when released from the harness which kept it down beside its dead companion it struggled to its feet whinnying with terror. i did my best to soothe it while looking for its wound. none was to be seen and i soon convinced myself that by some lucky accident the animal was practically unhurt. so far good; still, one horse would not be of much use on those rough heavy roads. i wondered whether our pursuers had left any of their own steeds behind them; there would assuredly be more than one with no rider to carry back to the geierthal. i ran into the house, explained the situation, and told them i was going to hunt about for a second horse. i argued that when the party dismounted to advance and attack us they would naturally have tied up their horses at the roadside near by, and it was just probable that thereabouts one might be found. the common horses of those parts, such as the count's men would ride, were hardly valuable enough for their loss to be any great consideration, and if bleisst had really been wounded, his chief would have enough to do to get him home without the trouble of trying to lead three or four horses as well. no doubt they would have been turned loose, but i might get hold of one for all that. my conjecture proved correct. i had gone but a short distance in my search when suddenly there was the noise of a rush just in front of me, and a great dark object sprang up into the road. it was an exciting moment, with the full suspicion of a trap in my mind. with my revolver ready i stood still and watched. the horse had trotted off nervously; he now stopped and gave a low neigh. feeling pretty sure that he was alone i went forward cautiously. it was risky, but as it turned out i was safe enough. having been used to horses all my life i knew how to give this fellow confidence and get hold of him. then i led him to the carriage, put on him the dead one's harness, and all was ready for a start. fräulein asta was greatly relieved when i returned with an account of my success, since every moment we delayed obviously increased our danger. happily, poor strode seemed much easier and was in quite high spirits. between us we bore him out to the carriage, making him as comfortable as possible; then i led the horses to the road, mounted the box, and we resumed our journey. i have often thought since that it would have been some satisfaction to have found out how many of the count's ruffians we really did send to their account, and no doubt had not my love been with us i would have risked a ten minutes' search to satisfy myself. as it was we had to be content with the inference that the leader would not have abandoned the attack had not the party been well-nigh annihilated. the fear of immediate pursuit was now removed, still no time was to be lost, and i kept my oddly-matched pair swinging along at the best pace i could get out of them, resolved that nothing but dire necessity should cause another halt before we cleared the frontier. that--the nearest road out of the country--was all we could think of then; it would be time enough to determine on our after destination when we were once safe beyond the limit of the jaguar's spring. so we pushed on through the night, on and on till blackness turned by imperceptible degrees to grey, dark at first, then lighter and lighter till the red streaks of dawn at length made the landscape clear. on and on we rattled, through still sleeping villages, becoming more wakeful as we and time went on, past yawning peasants driving forth their primitive ox-wains and ploughs; on and on, every mile making our hearts lighter and raising our hopes as it brought us nearer to the frontier. strode was bearing the rough journey better than we could have hoped; a simple wound to a man in good health and spirits is not, after all, a very serious matter. at length, while the morning was yet young, we came in sight of the town of bradenfort, which we knew to be but five or six miles from the frontier. our jaded horses were now at the last stage of fatigue, and i made up my mind that we must risk a stoppage to procure fresh ones. after all, that danger was less than the otherwise inevitable one of a breakdown, and the time we should lose over the business would be made up afterwards on the road. accordingly, after entering the town in sorry fashion, we pulled up at a likely inn, where i made an exceedingly bad bargain for a new pair of horses, leaving the others as a part--a very insignificant part--of the price. but we were now able to bowl out of the town in refreshing style, and knew that, bar accidents, we were safe. in a short hour we were at the frontier, had safely passed the barrier, and, with intense relief, found ourselves beyond the jurisdiction of his grim excellency the chancellor graf rallenstein; although, if what i had learned at the monastery were true, we had less to fear now from him than from count furello. still, strong wills do not love to be successfully thwarted, and even statesmen who live for their country are not always above the vindictive passions of meaner men. we now made more leisurely for the nearest town, where we could rest and decide on our next move. moreover it was high time that we should put strode into the hands of a surgeon. by noon we were comfortably quartered in the best rooms of the adler-hof at rannsdau; the doctor had pronounced the loss of blood the greatest inconvenience that strode's wound was likely to cause him, and we could reflect with restful satisfaction upon a good night's work. the problem now was to communicate with asta's parents, and this was a business which in several ways might be fraught with danger, more particularly to the fräulein herself. it was, on the other hand, clearly my duty to restore her to her family with as little delay as possible; but it seemed for the moment difficult to take any steps in that direction without again courting the danger she had just escaped. but the difficulty was solved, and most happily as it turned out, by a feasible suggestion made by asta herself. we were now within a comparatively short distance of the italian frontier. at verona an aunt of hers lived. she might find a pleasant asylum there until her parents had been communicated with. the idea was a happy one, and a few hours found us on our way to verona. poor strode we were obliged to leave behind us, but i was fortunate enough to hear of an english clergyman in the place, whom i sought out and to whose good offices i commended my friend. not exactly the companion, perhaps, the devil-may-care strode would have chosen, but at least he would have some one to chatter english with. on our arrival at verona we agreed that asta should remain for awhile at the hotel while i went on alone to tell her aunt the great news. i hardly know why we determined on this course, but it was well that we did so. for, on being ushered into the signora reballi's drawing-room, i was brought face to face with two people in deep mourning, who, to my embarrassment, were made known to me as general and madame von winterstein, asta's parents. as i recovered from my surprise i bowed and said how fortunate i was to meet them, as i had lately come from buyda, and the very reason of my visit was to acquaint the signora with certain facts connected with the fate of fräulein asta von winterstein. my words had naturally a great and not altogether happy effect on her parents, and the general asked me, in some surprise, with a tinge of suspicion, how i came to know anything about it, and particularly signora reballi's relationship to his daughter. to fence his question was idle, to blurt out the truth would have been dangerous, so i asked him to let me first of all speak a word to him in private. to this he acceded with an increasing suspicion and led the way to another room. "you are sure," i began, "that your daughter was killed in a carriage accident on the salenberg road?" "unhappily; although----" "the body has not been found. that in itself should leave room for doubt." he looked at me so strangely that i began to fear the effect of the news. "what do you mean?" he asked hoarsely. "tell me what you have to say." "that there is no need to abandon hope." "ah!" he cried. "you have reason to doubt? no! no! in heaven's name, speak, monsieur. what do you mean?" "there is," i said, "great doubt." then he seemed to see intuitively what i was aiming at. by what must have been an intense effort he restrained his excitement and said quite quietly, "you have come to tell me that my daughter is alive?" i smiled, and at my smile he broke down and turned away. "it is a long and extraordinary story," i said, "but the end of it is that fräulein asta is alive and in verona." "thank god!" he half sobbed. "thank god! i must see her. let me----" "i will bring her to you. but madame von winterstein----?" "ask my wife to come to me here," he said the fever of excitement getting stronger hold of him every moment. "she must hear the good news from my lips. ah, god be thanked! my asta comes back to us from the grave." i did as he wished, then drove off for asta. in less than half an hour mother and father were kissing with tears of joy the daughter whose tragic fate they had mourned with such bitter sorrow. chapter xxxvii the last meeting the days that followed were some of the happiest of my life. there was, as may be imagined, more than ordinary delight in having been the instrument of that marvellous change from sorrow to joy, and such joy, the like of which it has been few men's luck to witness. then came the happiness of my betrothal, and the sunny days seemed to glide by with scarcely a cloud on our horizon. and, as though everything conspired to complete our happiness, one that did seem in our graver moments to threaten, was suddenly dispersed. one morning i saw in an italian newspaper a paragraph to the effect that the count von rallenstein had on the previous day been seized with a paralytic stroke, and that the famous chancellor's state of health gave occasion for considerable anxiety. under the circumstances we could hardly pretend to take as anything but good fortune the news that the ruthless, vindictive autocrat's power for harm was practically at an end. from von lindheim, now safe in paris, i had received news; the end of the chancellor's reign would make all the difference to him; for, however matters might have otherwise changed (as by the failure of rallenstein's marriage scheme), he would never have dared to risk a return to his native country under the old régime. i sent the good news to my friend, with a suggestion that he should join us at verona. strode, now well again, was expected; naturally asta's parents were most anxious to make his acquaintance and thank him personally for the indispensable part he had taken in the rescue. we were going to be a very happy and merry party; but the night before our friend's arrival a startling event happened which showed me on the brink of what an awful danger we were trifling. that night we were invited to a rather grand reception at the guacini palace. naturally the rooms were crowded, so crowded that asta and i made our way from the crush, and finding a little room leading out of one of the salons we sat there cosily, out of touch, yet in sight of the restless crowd just beyond. "what a change," asta remarked, "in my hopes, in my life, from only a few days ago. think of me in that dismal room, a prisoner expecting every time the door opened that death would enter. could i ever have dreamt to have seen the world again like this?" "you must not let your mind run on that gloomy time now that it is so happily past," i remonstrated, clasping the hand which was slid into mine. "we have now only joy to look forward to, for it shall not be my fault if the future does not compensate for all you have gone through. it is hard, but you must try, dearest, to dismiss it all as a hideous dream." "we are going to be so happy," she said lovingly, "that i am sure as time goes on i shall think less of those terrible days. but can i forget them without ignoring a certain dear brave englishman who----" i stopped her. "asta, i wish you would forget that part of our acquaintance. i don't want you to love me for that." she laughed. "for that only, you mean, sir. but as to forgetting one little incident--no; not if by that i might have no recollection of my terror and sufferings. and now all is life and joy again. a few days ago i had nothing before me but the choice of death--or worse." she shuddered. "of becoming the countess furello; the wife of a murderer. can i ever thank you, ever love you enough? it is so hot here," she said, after a pause which was not altogether blank; "let us come and see whether we can find our way to the garden." as we rose i noticed that a jewel in her hair had become disarranged and was in danger of falling out. she turned to a great mirror on the wall and made the ornament fast. suddenly, as she turned again, she gave a little half-gasping cry. i thought she must have hurt her head with the pin of the ornament, but soon saw that her cry had been called forth by something much worse than that, for she clasped my hand convulsively, and for some moments seemed speechless for very terror. at length she could answer me, in a frightened whisper: "furello! i saw him there as i turned from the glass. his face there, looking in at us. he is here." "here!" i echoed incredulously, though with an uneasy feeling that the thing was quite possible. "here, yes; i saw the hateful face in the doorway, i tell you. he looked into this room, only for a moment. jasper, my darling, you will save me from him, will you not?" i reassured her as best i could, both on that point and on the likelihood of her being mistaken. "your mind is full of the man," i argued. "some one resembling him looked in, and your nerves not having quite recovered made you think it was he." but she insisted; she was sure. "do you suppose i could ever be mistaken in that face?" she said. "it was count furello." "but what should he be doing here?" i reasoned. "here in one of the most exclusive gatherings in verona. his evil reputation is such that no decent countryman of his own would know him. of that you may be sure. and to think that prince guacini would admit him across his threshold is absurd." reason as i would, nothing would shake her conviction that it had been furello and none other that she had seen. it was distressing to me to see the mortal fear into which the sight, fancied or real, had thrown my darling. "i will settle this at once," i said. "come back to your father while i search the rooms. if the count is here i will find him. but i think it far more likely i shall light on the double who has frightened you." she clung to me as we made our way through the crowd to where her parents were sitting. so far no one in the least like count furello came under my notice, though i kept a sharp look-out on all sides. i gave general von winterstein a hint of what had happened, and with a word of encouragement to asta went off on my search. it was vain. the thorough scrutiny i made in the rooms and all likely and unlikely places in the palace showed me no count furello or any one resembling him closely enough to have deceived asta. one man, indeed, i pitched upon as being perhaps sufficiently near to the count's general appearance to have suggested that arch villain, especially when seen casually for a moment. but upon my pointing him out to asta she was quite convinced that he was not the man she had seen, and that it had indeed been furello. the episode, mysterious and disquieting enough, seemed suddenly to plunge us from an unclouded happiness and confidence into fear. not that there was any danger of open violence there. it was quite certain that if furello was really among the guests, a word to the prince would be enough to have him turned out not only of the palace but probably of the country. the worst part of it was, though, that the count's methods were essentially cunning and secret; had he been an open enemy there would have been little ground for fear. i was inclined, however, to regard the whole affair as the effect of asta's unstrung nerves. rallenstein was now practically _hors de combat_, and it was scarcely likely that the count would have ventured to follow us with any sinister purpose on his own account. the idea in my mind was that he was somewhat of a coward who required the impelling will of a stronger man behind his fell enterprises. for the rest of the time i stayed at the palace i did not cease to look about for the man; had he been there i certainly must have lighted upon him. the report of my fruitless search at last reassured asta a little, and when i parted from her at her aunt's house i was glad to see that she seemed to have got over the worst of her fear. we had arranged to meet strode next day, and i turned towards my hotel full of pleasant anticipations. when i arrived there it was past midnight; a sleepy porter let me in, and i went straight to my apartment, which consisted of a sitting-room, with a bedroom, _en suite_. here i found a long letter awaiting me from von lindheim. tired as i was, i lighted the candles on my table and began to read it, being eager to know what his plans were. this was the first letter of any length i had received from him; it was closely written, and contained an account of the incidents of his long journey, including some narrow escapes he had had from being detected and falling into the hands of rallenstein's emissaries. i had drawn a chair to the table and sat down to study the closely-written pages, when, in turning over one and raising my eyes to the beginning of the next, they caught on the opposite wall an arresting movement, a stirring of the shadow thrown by a full moon on the opposite wall. my back was to the window, and the phenomenon betokened that the drawn curtains behind me were being stealthily moved apart. realizing this, i raised the letter to the level of my eyes, as though it were difficult to decipher. looking over the paper, i watched the wall before me. slowly the streak widened, and in the middle there appeared a shadow--the form, unmistakably, of a man's head, framed, as it were, in the aperture. then, with a thrill, i knew that a crisis, the most desperate of all, had come. assuredly nothing but sheer presence of mind was between me and death. this thought nerved me; every moment now was critical. a suspicious movement on my part would mean a bullet through me; before i could turn i should be a dead man. my one chance lay in taking my concealed enemy by surprise. "tchut! i do wish, my dear friend, you would write legibly," i said aloud. "was there ever such a fist! i shall have to get a reading-glass to you, mein herr. let's see, there was one on this table." muttering thus, always distinctly enough for my words to be heard, i moved away quickly and crossed to a little writing-table that stood in the corner of the room. by this i was somewhat out of that uncomfortable direct line of fire. the bell was at the other side of the room; to have attempted to reach it would have been madness. making a pretence of seeking the glass among the nick-nacks on the writing-table i was able to get out my revolver, which events had now taught me never to be without. "ah, here it is!" i said, going back as to my chair. next instant, by a quick movement, i had turned and flung aside the curtain, my revolver covering the place where i knew the intruder must be. "count furello!" i cried. "come out and show yourself, you cowardly villain!" i do not know why my revolver hung fire, for i had resolved to shoot him on sight. but the moment's hesitation as i brought the count--it was he--to view, showed him to me standing against the window with dropped hands, and none of the expected signs of attack. i could not shoot, even him, like that; if only he had made the slightest aggressive movement i would not have hesitated. as it was i stayed looking at him. he stood there quite motionless, his arms by his side, and, so far as i could see, with no weapon in his hand. his face looked absolutely white, the mouth was drawn behind the bristling moustache into the suggestion of an ugly grin, not reflected in the eyes, which glittered with repressed viciousness. i think we must have stared at one another for some seconds before i spoke. "what are you doing here, count?" the grin deepened. "a scarcely necessary question. you are going to shoot. please don't delay. i am ready to pay the penalty of my rashness and your superior--luck." the hatred with which he spoke the last words was indescribable. "you will have to pay the penalty," i said, trying to bring myself to press the trigger. his face was calm now except for the gleam of desperation in his eyes. my better judgment told me to send a bullet through that scoundrel's heart, yet i paused, perhaps in the very certainty that the heart was covered by my pistol. "we are rivals, it seems," furello said calmly. "may we not settle our differences in the approved fashion?" "rivals! you and i!" was my scornful answer. "was that your intention, count?" he gave a shrug and a look of devilish mockery. "i had not made up my mind. i have not an englishman's good fortune. but it is plain that the time for one of us has arrived." in talking to me like this he must have felt pretty confident of the difference between my nature and his own; had the positions been reversed, little time would he have given me for parley, except, perhaps, as a cat prolongs a mouse's agony. i had evidently taken him by surprise, and so at a disadvantage; no chance was left for him but to calculate upon my sense of chivalry. chivalry with that murderous reptile! i wonder how i allowed such a consideration to influence me; but somehow it seemed hard to pull the trigger in cold blood. "will you give me a chance, my dear tyrrell?" he demanded again, but without the ugly grin. "or are you going to shoot me here as i stand defenceless? if so, for heaven's sake be quick about it." instead of taking him at his word, i, like a fool, began to retort. the thought of asta and all this loathsome brute had made her suffer came to my mind with the recollection of the pitiable state of fear she had shown that evening. "chance!" i cried. "what chance did you mean to give me when you pressed me to eat poisoned sweetmeats at your cursed table? what chance was i to have in that assassin's room you gave me to sleep in? what chance did you give that poor priest whom you decoyed to your devil's den--the man who, three hours after, was lying in his grave in the wood. you talk to me of--ah! you----!" he had suddenly stooped and made a desperate rush at me. perhaps he saw that i was working myself up to do what i should have done long before. no doubt my vehemence had relaxed my alertness. his move was a clever one, for in his stooping position, he offered a much worse mark for a shot, and greatly reduced the certainty of a mortal wound. in that one fierce crouching spring he was upon me and at close quarters, while my advantage was almost gone. i must have fired, but have no recollection of the shot. i only know that each seized the other's right wrist with the left hand. so he was safe from my revolver, and i from something i could see shining in his grasp. i think the feeling uppermost in my mind at that supreme moment was one of bitter disgust at my own folly; but, after the first pang of discomfiture there was no room for any thought but of mastering the human hyena that had fastened on me. it was evident to me that i was the stronger and more athletic man, but then my adversary had the strength of desperation; he had gained the first advantage, and would naturally fight like a demon. it was scarcely a violent struggle at first. we stood for a while wrestling warily, confining our efforts almost entirely to the arms. i can see now furello's horrible face close to mine; it was as though in those critical moments every evil passion of his life, every crime, every knavery, sprang its index into his countenance. if ever the devil looked out of a man's eyes, there he was in that glare of desperate vicious hatred and rage. soon i put forth a greater effort, and to my relief it confirmed the idea that my adversary's strength was less than my own. i forced him backwards step by step till i held him against the wall. suddenly he pressed himself close against me, struggling furiously to force towards me the hand i held. in it was an object which scarcely suggested a weapon. a short metal instrument, square at the butt and tapering to a very fine point. i could not tell what it actually was, but the fact of the count's using it was enough to give me a shrewd idea of its purpose. at any rate i thought i would make trial of its effectiveness on its owner. so, holding away from the sting-like point, i forced furello round from the wall, then against the table, then backwards upon it, where naturally he was at my mercy. then i set myself to force down the hand with its mysterious weapon upon him. as he realized my intention he, even at the disadvantage of that almost helpless position, struggled with such convulsive fury that for a time he baffled my purpose. then gradually my greater strength told, the point was forced down till it entered his cheek. "a----h!" such a cry, as the stylet dug into the flesh. the grip on my revolver hand relaxed so that with a sharp wrench i could release it. the fingers of the count's other hand still rigidly clutched the strange weapon. i had now the pistol free and pressed to his temple. "let go!" i said, "or i'll blow your brains out!" "shoot!" he cried. "shoot! i defy you, cursed englishman! you dare not!" he raised his head and tried furiously to bite my hand. i beat his head back with the revolver and drove by sheer weight the stylet into his neck. he screamed and wriggled like a wounded animal, but i had no pity for him, only heartily wishing the part i was forced to play had fallen to another man's lot. as i held him there an idea crossed my mind and determined me to get from him the murderous little weapon which he held so tenaciously. after a sharp struggle i succeeded in unloosening the nervous fingers, and, obtaining possession of the instrument, flung it to the farther end of the room. the count now lay absolutely still, except for his heaving chest. suspicious of his further power for mischief i began to feel for any weapon he might have about him. there was a revolver in a pocket of his coat. i took it out, and then drew a little away, contenting myself with watching keenly for any suspicious movement. he lay quite passive on the table just as i had forced him down: on his back with his legs dangling, his feet scarcely touching the floor. it seemed as though all the fight was beaten out of him. the situation was a hideous one for me, and i began to speculate how long it would last and how it would end, when suddenly a convulsive shudder seemed to run through the man as he lay before me. his hands opened and clenched thrice, then another convulsion shook him and he called me by name. "shoot me!" he gasped in a voice thick and hardly recognizable. "if you are a man send a bullet through me and put me out of my agony." the conjecture in my mind now became a certainty; i returned no answer; simply waited in silence. another spasm seemed to madden him. "shoot me! shoot me, curse you!" he cried, breaking out into a string of hideous imprecations. i said nothing, and sat quite still. "tyrrell!" he screamed; and then, by what seemed a terrible effort, sat upright. i sprang from my chair in horror. the face, which had been hidden from me as he lay, was now dark purple, almost black. the blazing eyes protruded from their sockets, the swollen lips, jet black were drawn back into a frightful grin; the man was a human being no longer; it seemed as though he were already a devil, as hideous as the imagination of man ever conceived. the sight brought back to me poor szalay's appearance in his death agony, but the effect of the poison here was indescribably more fearful. for the first time in that perilous half-hour i felt fear--sickening fear. the thing opposite to me was so unutterably loathsome that the very idea of his breath reaching me was horrible. i recall that in sheer panic, i raised my revolver, but before i could fire, the count, with a sound of words which the tumid tongue would not utter, fell back. i could endure the terrible sight no longer, but rushed from the room, locking the door behind me. when i had roused the hotel people and the door was opened again, count furello lay still on the table--dead. * * * * * so perished this villain by the horrible means he had prepared for me. when i think of that hideous death, the idea of my narrow escape sends a shiver through me. when we came to examine the lethal instrument which inflicted it, we found it to be a hollow stiletto with a collapsible handle, this forming a receptacle for the virulent poison with which it was charged. a slight prick, as it must have been in the case of poor szalay, would be enough to cause death, and the venom acted so rapidly that a remedy was out of the question. a very pretty and effective implement of the great chancellor's vaunted statecraft! it appeared that the count had taken a room on the same floor, whence it had been easy for him to slip into mine and await my return. but von lindheim's letter saved me. there was, of course, an inquiry into the facts of that strange and appalling tragedy. happily for me, all the circumstances confirmed my straightforward story, which was further corroborated by the dead man's antecedents. it appeared that before he quitted italy several mysterious deaths of the same character as this one had occurred, with which he had seemed closely connected; but nothing beyond strong suspicion had been fastened upon him. but at last the terribly appropriate retribution had overtaken him; and surely no man had ever greater cause than i to be thankful for the gift of a strong arm and an athletic frame. with that night the story of my series of adventures ends. i had certainly had my fill of them, and ever since then my appetite for that sort of thing has been considerably less keen. but apart from the more selfish advantage i derived, the winning of a most charming wife, it has always been a satisfaction to me to reflect that what i did served a useful purpose in ridding the world of a gang of precious villains. i have since visited the monastery of st. tranquillin in the geierthal; it is now the innocent abode of a prosperous farmer, who occasionally entertains stray sportsmen in rather different fashion from his predecessors, and is, happily, ignorant of what lies beneath the ground he plods over, or the dark history of the rooms in which his children play. after the death of count rallenstein the rule of the jaguar was known no more, and von lindheim, after spending several months with us in england, was able to return to his estate, there to live in peace and safety. from the subsequent marriage of the poor princess casilde there sprang, as every student of european affairs knows, the consort of one of the most illustrious rulers; but the keenest and most diligent of students has never found the name von orsova in her family tree, and yet that was undoubtedly the princess's name before her marriage. still, i have made a journey, more than once, to lay a wreath on the grave of the handsome rittmeister von orsova, the man whose fate, though it brought terror and death to others, yet gave supreme happiness to me. the end london: ward, lock & co., limited. =ward, lock & co.'s= =sevenpenny net novels= _cloth gilt. with frontispiece, and attractive coloured wrapper, d. net._ fiction-lovers have welcomed the appearance in this dainty and attractive form of some of the best work of leading modern novelists. all the stories included are copyright and of proved popularity. the type is large and readable, and the neat cloth binding renders the volumes worthy of permanent preservation. =the garden of lies.= by justus miles forman. the novel with which mr. forman attained popularity. a real romance, full of vigour, passion and charm. =anna, the adventuress.= by e. phillips oppenheim. mr. oppenheim excels himself in this story, which has been the most successful of all his novels. =rainbow island.= by louis tracy. "should be hailed with joyous shouts of welcome."--_the literary world._ =the impostor.= by harold bindloss. will live and always rank as its author's most powerful and engrossing work. =the dust of conflict.= by harold bindloss. another excellent story of adventure comparable to its author's great success "the impostor." =two bad blue eyes.= by "rita." a delightfully charming and exciting story of strong human interest. =mr. wingrave, millionaire.= by e. p. oppenheim. a rattling good novel of remarkable power and fascination. =the corner house.= by fred m. white. crammed with sensation and mystery--an excellent romance that will be eagerly read. =in strange company.= by guy boothby. a capital novel of the sensational-adventurous order. =the sporting chance.= by a. & c. askew. a bright and alluring story that is well worth reading. =the gold wolf.= by max pemberton. throbbing with interest and excitement from start to finish. =the beautiful white devil.= by guy boothby. a more exciting romance no man could reasonably ask for. =when i was czar.= by a. w. marchmont. a really brilliant novel, full of dramatic incident and smart dialogue. =the crimson blind.= by fred m. white. one of the most ingeniously conceived detective stories ever written. =the lodestar.= by max pemberton. a fine and distinguished romance. =in white raiment.= by william le queux. absolutely the most puzzling and enthralling of mr. le queux's many popular romances. =not proven.= by alice and claude askew. the finest emotional and entertaining story these authors have written. =young lord stranleigh.= by robert barr. "the most amusing and at the same time the most exciting novel of the year."--_manchester courier._ =the mother.= by eden phillpotts. "this is mr. phillpotts' best book," said _the daily telegraph_. =a study in scarlet.= (the first book about sherlock holmes.) by a. conan doyle. "one of the cleverest and best detective stories we have seen."--_london quarterly review._ =a maker of history.= by e. phillips oppenheim. mr. oppenheim's skill has never been displayed to better advantage. =buchanan's wife.= by justus m. forman. a thoroughly fine book from start to finish. =the pillar of light.= by louis tracy. a wonderfully fascinating and breathlessly exciting story, told in mr. tracy's best style. =a bid for fortune.= by guy boothby. the first and best of all the exciting adventures of dr. nikola. =the day of temptation.= by william le queux. an enthralling mystery tale. =the secret.= by e. phillips oppenheim. "one of the most engrossing stories we have read."--_daily telegraph._ =a damaged reputation.= by harold bindloss. "once more we repeat that mr. bindloss has stepped into the shoes of the late seton merriman."--_daily mail._ =the soul of gold.= by justus miles forman. this story has been acclaimed by _the daily telegraph_ as worthy of much praise and cleverly worked out. =the marriage of esther.= by guy boothby. a story full of action, life, and dramatic interest. =lady barbarity.= by j. c. snaith. "'lady barbarity' would cheer a pessimist in a november fog."--_black & white._ =by wit of woman.= by a. w. marchmont. the ingenuity of this exciting story positively takes one's breath away. transcriber's notes: minor changes have been made to correct printer's errors and to regularize hyphenation. words that were in italics in the paper edition of this book have been shown with an underscore (_) enclosing them. words that were in bold font in the paper edition of this book have been shown with an equal sign (=) enclosing them. hospital sketches hospital sketches by robert swain peabody boston & new york houghton mifflin company _the riverside press cambridge_ copyright, , by robert swain peabody all rights reserved _published december _ "_had i the heavens' embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light, the blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half light; i would spread the cloths under your feet: but i, being poor, have only my dreams; i have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams._" w. b. yeats. note acknowledgments are made to messrs. charles scribner's sons for permission to use a passage from edith wharton's _fighting france_ and to the macmillan company for the use of the poem "aedh wishes for the cloths of heaven," by w. b. yeats. contents introduction ix view from the hospital terrace upthorpe-cum-regis i. the minster and the meadows ii. the church yard iii. the village iv. the hall v. trong's almshouses ranconezzo vi. the town and the lake vii. piazza garibaldi viii. piazza cavour ix. north door of the duomo x. interior of the duomo xi. the villa of the cardinal schalchi-visconti xii. santa prassede, the cardinal's church xiii. the cloisters of sta prassede xiv. the tomb of the cardinal in sta prassede rocher-st.-pol xv. the town and the river merle xvi. la grande rue and la place de la république xvii. l'escalier de jacob xviii. le parvis de ste frédigonde xix. interior of the church of ste frédigonde xx. sacristy steps in the church of ste frédigonde xxi. the château beaumesnil xxii. la tour de la dame blanche aeginassos xxiii. the temple and the forum xxiv. the temple and the forum introduction johns hopkins hospital, baltimore, maryland, _december, ._ one of my good friends, a stanch upholder of what to him is "the catholic church," looks back to the thirteenth century as marking the highest tide of christian civilization. he longs for a restoration (but under other rule) of that monastic life which then gave shelter to art, science, learning, and religion. it does not appear that this longing is coupled with any regret for the exceptionally happy domestic life with which he personally has been blessed. probably his hopes are that even if he establishes, others will maintain, that monastic life and discipline which, duly purified from ultramontane tendencies, he thinks would be so uplifting and beneficial to our times. however that may be, if he is ever immured for many weeks in a great hospital, he will be surprised to find how many are the similarities between its life, its discipline and its atmosphere, and those of the great monasteries. i mean those mediæval houses which spread from the parent at monte cassino to citeaux and cluny and vezelay and thence to far-away parts of europe, and which were even more abundant in england where the ruins of the yorkshire abbeys still attest to their former power. when the time is ripe for the change longed for by our friend he will find that very slight additions to a modern hospital will give him what he wants in great perfection. grateful though i am to them--deeply grateful--yet i know little of the personal history of the founder of this great hospital which now shelters me, or of that "diamond jim brady" who built and endowed this noble wing. still, i feel sure that in many ways these benefactors to their race made their gifts under much the same conditions as those barons and nobles of old who, led by some deep feeling, devoted their wealth to the saving, not only of their own souls, but of the souls and bodies of their fellow men. moreover, if the benefactors who founded and endowed this hospital resembled the men and women who made possible the powerful monasteries of the middle ages, there is also a resemblance to be found between the service that the monks rendered in their day to humanity and knowledge and that devotion which to-day inspires the staff of a great modern hospital. in this very building are housed and in constant attendance a large number of doctors, surgeons and orderlies. their quarters, though in many ways like those in a modern club, are almost equally like the cells of a great monastery. there probably is not one of the staff who was not turned to his profession in some degree by the thought that it would make him of service to mankind. in another wing live several hundred nurses. the strength and health and happiness which appear in the faces of these young women attest to the good effect for women as well as for men of discipline and regular attention to duty. what a shining example is theirs of faithful and altruistic service to suffering humanity! indeed a generous, helpful and encouraging spirit pervades all the men and women who form the staff of the hospital. theirs is a single-minded and unwearying attention which no monks could have excelled, nor could the monasteries ever have offered a wider charity than that which makes white and colored, hebrew and gentile, poor and rich all objects of the kindly help of a skilful and devoted company. i know that the kernel and very centre of the monastery was the lighted altar in the chapel where daily the sacred mysteries were enacted. that is what our friend will need to add to his perfected institution;--and yet--and yet--i doubt if the atmosphere will be very different when that is done. although this place is world-famous as a centre of scientific research and of applied science,--though, in general, religion here is worked out in terms of service,--yet there are signs that the spirit has recognition as well as the physical body. to-day, in the great entrance rotunda stands a colossal and impressive statue of christ, his hands outstretched welcoming the weary and the heavy-laden. the several hundred nurses have daily prayers together before they begin their unselfish work. at the dawn of christmas morning, the doctors, nurses and orderlies make the halls resound with the carols suited to the day; and we hear how one convalescent who was praising his doctor's power over his ailments was surprised by the reply, "it was another power than mine that did it!" perhaps he meant that miraculous servant radium; perhaps he meant nature herself; perhaps he meant something beyond these. he did not explain. this devotion with which the staff is consecrated to altruistic labor is met by a spirit of buoyant gratitude from those on whom they minister. our ward is vibrant with it. perhaps this is not true at the very first. the patient arrives in misery. for a few days he is perhaps made even more miserable. but during this time he is in seclusion and not visible to his comrades. soon he rallies. in bed or wheel chair he joins other convalescents on the roof terrace. they compare notes over their operations. they settle among themselves all those great pending questions which have been engrossing the active outside world and, looking forward to returning health and strength, a very joyous spirit pervades the group. these not too inviting surroundings abound, therefore, in a hearty thankfulness--a thankfulness abundant and sincere, and not unlike what it would be if it were offered amid solemn rites and with majestic music before the glowing altar of a monastery. but in these early days of seclusion the lonely patient has opportunity for much thinking. lying in bed in a room which, as a recent writer described it, is richly decorated with a white ceiling, four white walls, a door, a window and a floor, he has indeed time for thought and for thought without distraction. surrounded as he is by the sick and the maimed, perhaps one of the first subjects on which he is led to ponder is the mystery of pain. what does it all mean that a god otherwise beneficent should impose on the creatures he has brought into the world illness and suffering? even prince siddartha wondered at it: "since if, all powerful, he leaves it so, he is not good; and if not powerful, he is not god?" in better mood the patient may wonder whether his personal share of pain is in any sense a penance or atonement for his own past sins. this is a thought which is natural and acceptable perhaps to most minds. but the saints and martyrs testifying to their faith went farther and not only submitted to but gladly sought pain and suffering. now pain and agony well endured undoubtedly strengthen character. have we not a vivid example of this before us in the catastrophe of the european war; a war which is saved from being wholly evil and dreadful because out of it has come the spiritual regeneration of the allied nations who are engulfed in it? still it can hardly be expected that ordinary flesh and blood should in this world, so full of love and beauty, invite and seek out suffering and disaster even in order to bear them bravely. enough for most of us that if doomed to walk with them we "turn the necessity to glorious gain." but all the same it must be a happy thing for a sufferer if he can hope with the martyrs that pain borne with fortitude may be offered as a sacrifice and atonement. in these dull and lonely moments also one inevitably asks whether it is true that people exist who are stolid to pain? one may consecrate it before it comes and after it goes, but to most of us feeble folk pain when present occupies the whole limelight and leaves the rest of the stage in darkness! the only inmate of the hospital who stirred my temper was a patient who on making a rapid recovery from what he described as a very severe operation said he had refused ether and did not mind pain. i regained my equanimity when an orderly confided to me that the operation had been slight! in health one is apt to think that love is the great motive power of humanity. in illness and suffering pain seems the great and pressing problem. they often go hand in hand and perhaps it is true that without them both life has not rendered its full wealth or its perfect discipline. "the ennobling depths of pain" need also "the purifying fire of love" to round out a perfect character. "incomprehensibly love's will doth move through this blind world in ways we cannot see, death giving birth to life. so does deep sorrow give birth to rarer joy on some glad morrow." these and many such questions can be as solemn, as perplexing and as engrossing as any that exercised the inmates of the monastery to which we here find so much resemblance. as a contrast to such heart-searching thoughts the patient can wonder at the properties of that radium by which he may have been treated. how astonishing is it that this atom of matter should constantly emit rays which search out and destroy evil tissues and leave unharmed the good; and that they do this without any perceptible diminution of energy! how contrary this is to all we have hitherto known of the conservation of energy and of the impossibility of obtaining perpetual motion or continued power! what is so contrary to our preconceived ideas proves itself, however, by experience efficient in an almost supernatural or miraculous manner. perhaps fatigued by these thoughts the patient can turn from them and closing his eyes begin to count "the flock of sheep that leisurely pass by one after one" and by happy chance submit himself to sleep. the roof terrace has a wide view over the city of baltimore, as well as of the heavens which encompass it. we sit there in our wheel chairs or lie tucked up in our rolling beds and talk flows freely. we watch the flocks of pigeons making endless circles in the upper air; the black and solemn buzzards hanging above us unmoved though the gale blow ever so fiercely; the cloud shadows moving over the panorama; the haze of mist and steam and smoke floating over the city; the ever-changing pageant of fleeting clouds and blue sky and blazing sunsets. at one time-- "and when the wind from place to place doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase"-- we follow the white fleets as they sail away towards the south, ever replaced by new armadas surging up and over the northern horizon. at another time in range beyond range of snowy clouds, we see rise before us the delectable mountains beyond which is the land of beulah where the shining ones go to and fro as messengers to the celestial city. it is said that an eye unused to the telescope cannot see the canals on the planet mars, but that through the same instrument they are plainly visible to an eye trained to such observation. sometimes, when the clouds have hung in white masses over the city, i have been eager to see what was hidden by those luminous walls, but my untrained eyes could not pierce them. day after day, however, i became more familiar with them. others before now, without journeying like columbus to prove the truth of his visions, have, even by their own firesides, enjoyed castles in the air and châteaux and great possessions in spain. in like manner as the breeze moved the silver edges of the clouds, i had unexpectedly through the rifts views of strange lands and fair cities which i had never before seen or heard of. as they were indeed lovely, in all haste i tried to make rapid notes of them to prove the truth of my strange experience. far to the north over homewood, a pile of mountainous clouds was rent for a short space by the breeze, and disclosed a minster in a meadow land. its name seemed to be upthorpe-cum-regis. its tower rose before me over the busy life of the town and looked down on the mansion of the squire and the house of the dean. close around the walls of the minster, indeed within sound of its prayers and anthems, were clustered the graves of the dead,--the former generations who had made the life of the town and who built the church and worshipped at its altar. it was a town in which the characters described by trollope or george eliot or jane austen would have felt themselves at home. again when a sunset was filling the western sky with "the incomparable pomp of eve," a break in the clouds above the gilded towers of cardinal gibbons's cathedral disclosed an italian town on a lovely lake shore. boats with colored sails lined the riva of ranconezzo. two piazzas teeming with life surrounded the duomo or cathedral and from them there were wide views over lake and mountain scenery. it appears that in the long ago, the cardinal schalchi-visconti was the benefactor of this town, and there on the hillside, tree embowered, was his villa with its little port for the lake boats. his tomb i also saw, not in the duomo, but in the bramantesque church of santa prassede, a building resembling the many small churches in northern italy due to the refined influence of bramante. in my dreaming i entered the church, and found that the great cardinal lies beneath a tomb carved by mino da fiesole on the north side of santa prassede. then on a cool and crisp day when clouds were scudding through the sky, between them there was revealed to me a french town that seemed to bear the name of rocher-st.-pol. there was the river merle winding its way through meadow and woodland. a range of hills bounded the horizon and from the plain rose the rock. not far away the ruined castle of "la dame blanche" crowned a steep hill, and close to the town was the château beaumesnil, beetling over the wooded hillside and bristling with conical towers and burnished girouettes. the grande rue of rocher-st.-pol i saw winding between gabled and half-timbered houses towards the church on the summit, and finally a long flight of stairs called by the people jacob's ladder brings the pilgrim to the terrace in front of the church door. the interior of ste. frédigonde showed me the same period of french gothic which marks the cathedrals of notre dame at paris and rheims. coming out from jacob's ladder upon the parvis, there was a wide view over the meadows and the river. at the moment when the cathedral door was disclosed to me, a procession of clergy bearing sacred relics emerged from the church. it passed between the ranks of prophets and martyrs whose effigies flank the portal, and vanished with its banners and vestments down the long incline of jacob's ladder towards the old town. and finally came a dismal day, at the end of which the west was lined with long streaks of red, and, just before sunset, through a lengthened break in the gray, i seemed to see an island in the far Ægean. i think it must have been somewhere between the Ægina that looks across the waters to the athenian acropolis and the assos which my friends in their youth dug from its grave. let us call it Æginassos. its buildings as i dimly saw them are in a remarkable condition of preservation. the white temple stood out on a promontory over the sea, and brought back to memory the temple-crowned headland at sunium. higher on the mountain-side was the forum with its terraces and long colonnades. steep and winding paths descended to the ancient port, and far across the water rose the heights of the isles of greece. here are the records of what i was privileged to see from the roof terrace of the hospital. made in bed or wheel chair and depending on the passing imagination of an invalid, the sketches are of necessity crude. would that instead they were like the work of claude or turner, who were the great experts at seeing visions in the clouds and in transferring them to their paper! these drawings will, however, be a reminder that idle hours can be passed happily even during a long captivity! opposite each drawing i have placed some quotations from various writers. although these do not describe with exactness the places which no eye but mine has seen, yet they do picture others very like those which i saw from the hospital terrace. a day at last arrived when the patient was suddenly released. after being the object of tender care for many weeks the outer world seemed very large and very hustling. it was with a certain timidity and almost with reluctance that facing it all he left the peaceful quiet of the johns hopkins hospital. sketches at the johns hopkins hospital [illustration: "so shall the drudge in dusty frock spy behind the city clock retinues of airy things troops of angels, starry wings, his fathers shining in bright fables his children fed at heavenly tables." october ] upthorpe-cum-regis the river it was one of their happy mornings. they trotted along and sat down together, with no thought that life would ever change much for them; they would only get bigger and not go to school, and it would be always like the holiday; they would always live together and be fond of each other. and the mill with its booming--the great chestnut tree under which they played at house--their own little river, the ripple, where the banks seemed like home, and tom was always seeing water-rats while maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the reeds which she forgot, and dropped afterwards--above all, the great floss, along which they wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide, the awful eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the great ash which had once wailed and groaned like a man--these things would always be just the same to them. tom thought people were at a disadvantage who lived in any other spot of the globe; and maggie when she read about christiana passing "the river over which there is no bridge," always saw the floss between the green pastures by the great ash. george eliot. [illustration: i upthorpe-cum-regis _the minster and the meadows_] the minster strong as time, and as faith sublime,--clothed round with shadows of hopes and fears, nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion of prayers and tears,-- stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing and waning years. tower set square to the storms of air and change of season that blooms and glows, wall and roof of it tempest proof, and equal even to suns and snows, bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as a straight stem grows. a. swinburne. elegy now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, and all the air a solemn stillness holds, save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, and drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; * * * * * beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap each in his narrow cell forever laid, the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. * * * * * the breezy call of incense-breathing morn, the swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, the cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, no more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. gray. the churchyard it was a very quiet place, as such a place should be, save for the cawing of the rooks who had built their nest among the branches of some tall old trees, and were calling to one another, high up in the air. first one sleek bird, hovering near his ragged house as it swung and dangled in the wind, uttered his hoarse cry, quite by chance as it would seem, and in a sober tone as though he were but talking to himself. another answered, and he called again, but louder than before; then another spoke and then another; and each time the first, aggravated by contradiction, insisted on his case more strongly. other voices, silent till now, struck in from boughs lower down and higher up and midway, and to the right and left, and from the tree-tops; and others arriving hastily from the grey church turrets and old belfry window, joined the clamour which rose and fell, and swelled and dropped again, and still went on; and all this noisy contention amidst a skimming to and fro, and lighting on fresh branches, and frequent changes of place, which satirized the old restlessness of those who lay so still beneath the moss and turf below, and the useless strife in which they had worn away their lives. charles dickens. [illustration: ii upthorpe-cum-regis _the church yard_] the parson as i was walking with him last night, he asked me how i liked the good man whom i have just now mentioned? and without staying for my answer told me, that he was afraid of being insulted with latin and greek at his own table; for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at the university to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon. "my friend," says sir roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it. i have given him the parsonage of the parish; and because i know his value, have settled on him a good annuity for life. . . . at his first settling with me, i made him a present of all the good sermons which have been printed in english, and only begged of him that every sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. accordingly he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity. as sir roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of came up to us, and upon the knight's asking him who preached to-morrow, for it was saturday night, told us, the bishop of st. asaph in the morning, and dr. south in the afternoon. he then showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where i saw with a great deal of pleasure, archbishop tillotson, bishop saunderson, dr. barrow, dr. calamy, with several living authors who have published discourses of practical divinity. addison. the swan inn last night i lay at the swan inn in lathbury town. a sad night i had of it! my chamber was warmed fair enough by a fire of sea coal. there was a sweet smell of lavender in the sheets which a hot warming pan had also made comfortable. all this promised well, but polly had forgot to put my silk night cap into my saddlebags! that vexed me sore! all night i felt i was taking a rheum. some clodhoppers roystering in the tap room forbade sleep at first and as i am not wont to hear the quarters stricken the abbey bells roused me at frequent intervals and made me swear roundly. about midnight the royal mail rolled over the bridge with a noise fit to wake the seven sleepers! the hoof beats of its cattle echoed on the stone walls of the houses like a salute by his majesty's footguards! how i ached for my quiet chambers in the temple. at length i fell to sleep and so sound that when i waked the sun had long been shining through my lattice. i was late in meeting the squire and the vicar, and that too after making express this arduous ride. indeed i was vexed--and i showed it. swain's _old salop._ the swan is a venerable and rambling building, stretching itself lazily with outspread arms; one of those inns (long may they be preserved from the rebuilders!) on which one stumbles up or down into every room, and where eggs and bacon have an appropriateness that make them a more desirable food than ambrosia. the little parlor is wainscotted with the votive paintings--a village diploma gallery--of artists who have made the swan their home. e. v. lucas. [illustration: iii upthorpe-cum-regis _the village_] one almost expects to see a fine green moss all over an inhabitant of steyning. one day as i passed through the town i saw a man painting a new sign over a shop, a proceeding that so aroused my curiosity that i stood for a minute or two to look on. the painter filled in one letter, gave a huge yawn, looked up and down two or three times as if he had lost something, and finally descended from his perch and disappeared. five weeks later i passed that way again, and it is a fact that the same man was at work on the same sign. perhaps when the reader takes the walk i am about to recommend to his attention--a walk which comprises some of the finest scenery in sussex--that sign will be finished, and the accomplished artist will have begun another; but i doubt it. there is plenty of time for everything in steyning. louis jennings. the old country house if our old english folk could not get an arched roof, then they loved to have it pointed, with polished timber beams on which the eye rested as on looking upwards through a tree. their rooms they liked of many shapes, and not at right angles on the corners, nor all on the same dead level of flooring. you had to go up a step into one, and down a step into another, and along a winding passage into a third, so that each part of the house had its individuality. to these houses life fitted itself and grew to them; they were not mere walls, but became part of existence. a man's house was not only his castle, a man's house was himself. he could not tear himself away from his house, it was like tearing up the shrieking mandrake by the root, almost death itself. . . . dark beams inlaid in the walls support the gables; the slight curve of the great beam adds, i think, to the interest of the old place, for it is a curve that has grown and was not premeditated; it has grown like the bough of a tree, not from any set human design. this too is the character of the house. it is not large, not overburdened with gables, not ornamented, not what is called striking, in any way, but simply an old english house, genuine and true. the warm sunlight falls on the old red tiles, the dark beams look the darker for the glow of light, the shapely cone of the hop-oust rises at the end; there are swallows and flowers and ricks and horses, and so it is beautiful because it is natural and honest. it is the simplicity that makes it so touching, like the words of an old ballad . . . why even a tall chanticleer makes a home look homely. i do like to see a tall proud chanticleer strutting in the yard and barely giving way as i advance, almost ready to do battle with a stranger like a mastiff. jeffries, _buckhurst park._ [illustration: iv upthorpe-cum-regis _the hall_] the bedesmen there he lies, fundator noster, in his ruff and gown, awaiting the great examination day. . . . yonder sit some threescore old gentlemen pensioners of the hospital, listening to the prayers and the psalms. you hear them coughing feebly in the twilight,--the old reverend blackgowns. . . . how solemn the well-remembered prayers are, here uttered again in the place where in childhood we used to hear them! how beautiful, and decorous the rite; how noble the ancient words of the supplications which the priest utters, and to which generations of fresh children and troops of bygone seniors have cried amen! under those arches! the service for founder's day is a special one; one of the psalms selected being the thirty-seventh and we hear-- . the steps of a good man are ordered by the lord, and he delighteth in his way-- . though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the lord upholdeth him with his hand. . i have been young and now am old, yet have i not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread. w. m. thackeray. hiram's hospital hiram's hospital, as the retreat is called, is a picturesque building enough, and shows the correct taste with which the ecclesiastical architects of those days were imbued. it stands on the banks of the little river, which flows nearly round the cathedral close, being on the side furthest from the town. the london road crosses the river by a pretty one-arched bridge, and looking from this bridge, the stranger will see the windows of the old men's rooms, each pair of windows separated by a small buttress. a broad gravel walk runs between the building and the river, which is always trim and cared for; and at the end of the walk, under the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a large and well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather three or four of hiram's bedesmen are sure to be seen seated. beyond this row of buttresses, and further from the bridge and also further from the water which here suddenly bends, are the pretty oriel windows of mr. harding's house, and his well mown lawn. the entrance to the hospital is from the london road and is made through a ponderous gateway under a heavy stone arch, unnecessary, one would suppose, at any time, for the protection of twelve old men, but greatly conducive to the good appearance of hiram's charity. on passing through this portal, never closed to any one from six a.m. till ten p.m., and never open afterwards, except on application to a huge, intricately hung mediæval bell, the handle of which no un-initiated intruder can possibly find, the six doors of the old men's abodes are seen, and beyond them is a slight iron screen, through which the more happy portion of the barchester élite pass into the elysium of mr. harding's dwelling. anthony trollope, _the warden._ [illustration: v upthorpe-cum-regis _trong's almshouses_] ranconezzo sirmione row us out from desenzano, to your sirmione row! so they row'd, and there we landed--"o venusta sirmio!" there to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow, there beneath the roman ruin where the purple flowers grow, came that "ave atque vale" of the poet's hopeless woe, tenderest of roman poets nineteen hundred years ago, "frater ave atque vale"--as we wandered to and fro gazing at the lydian laughter of the garda lake below sweet catullus's all-but-island, olive silvery sirmio. alfred tennyson. [illustration: vi ranconezzo _the town and the lake_] the italian lakes he who loves immense space, cloud shadows sailing over purple slopes, island gardens, distant glimpses of snow-capped mountains, breadth, air, immensity, and flooding sunlight, will choose maggiore. but scarcely has he cast his vote for this, the juno of the divine rivals, when he remembers the triple lovelinesses of the larian aphrodite, disclosed in all their placid grace from villa serbelloni;--the green blue of the waters, clear as glass, opaque through depth; the _millefleurs_ roses clambering into cypresses by cadenabbia; the laburnums hanging their yellow clusters from the clefts of sasso rancio; the oleander arcades of varenna; the wild white limestone crags of san martino, which he has climbed to feast his eyes with the perspective, magical, serene, leonardesquely perfect, of the distant gates of adda. then while this modern paris is yet doubting, perhaps a thought may cross his mind of sterner solitary lake iseo--the pallas of the three. she offers her own attractions. the sublimity of monte adamello, dominating lovere and all the lowland like hesiod's hill of virtue reared aloft above the plain of common life, has charms to tempt heroic lovers. symonds, _sketches and studies in italy and greece._ piazza garibaldi the painter may transfer its campanile, glittering like dragon's scales, to his canvas. the lover of the picturesque will wander through its aisle at mass-time, watching the sunlight play upon those upturned southern faces with their ardent eyes; and happy is he who sees young men and maidens on whit sunday crowding round the chancel rails, to catch the marigolds and gillyflowers scattered from baskets which the priest has blessed. symonds, _sketches and studies in italy and greece._ down in the city is it ever hot in the square? there's a fountain to spout and splash! in the shade it sings and springs; in the shine such foam-bows flash on the horses with curling fish-tails, that prance and paddle and pash round the lady atop in the conch--fifty gazers do not abash, though all that she wears is some weeds round her waist in a sort of a sash! ere opening your eyes in the city the blessed church-bells begin: no sooner the bells leave off, than the diligence rattles in: you get the picks of the news, and it costs you never a pin. by and by there's the travelling doctor gives pills, lets blood, draws teeth; or the pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath. at the post-office such a scene-picture--the new play, piping hot! and a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were shot. * * * * * noon strikes,--here sweeps the procession! our lady borne smiling and smart with a pink gauze gown all spangles, and seven swords stuck in her heart! _bang, whang, whang_, goes the drum; _tootle-te-tootle_ the fife; oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life! robert browning. [illustration: vii ranconezzo _piazza garibaldi_] piazza cavour the changes of scene upon this tiny square are so frequent as to remind one of a theatre. looking down from the inn-balcony, between the glazy green pots gay with scarlet amaryllis-bloom, we are inclined to fancy that the whole has been prepared for our amusement. in the morning the cover for the macaroni-flour, after being washed, is spread out on the bricks to dry. in the afternoon the fishermen bring their nets for the same purpose. in the evening the city magnates promenade and whisper. dark-eyed women, with orange or crimson kerchiefs for headgear, cross and re-cross, bearing baskets on their shoulders. great lazy large limbed fellows, girt with scarlet sashes and finished off with dark blue night-caps (for a contrast to their saffron-colored shirts, white breeches and sunburnt calves), slouch about or sleep face downwards on the parapets. symonds, _sketches and studies in italy and greece._ [illustration: viii ranconezzo _piazza cavour_] a romanesque doorway * * * * * how the hand of time has mellowed the ruddy brick and the marble's whiteness until ivory and rose blend and are in harmony with those stained and faded frescoes which still remain in the panels of the upper walls. columns of veined marble stand in ranks on either side of the entrance. they are mounted on the backs of stiff-maned lions. fit supporters are these for the arches of the sanctuary as, at its very door, with claw and tooth they tear to pieces the bestial forms of vice and ignorance. above rise the moulded archivolts, tier on tier, clothed with vine and tendril and peopled with bird and beast. these may be uncouth in form, but the rude hands that fashioned them learned their lesson at the feet of nature. what there is of convention in arrangement or in pattern has flowed hither through the east from the original fountains of greece and rome but now at last all moves in freedom and without restraint. as in the short nights of the north sunrise follows fast upon the setting of the sun, so here though we see in this work the sunset of the antique yet it is already aglow with light from the coming dawn of mediæval art. roberts, _italian sketches._ [illustration: ix ranconezzo _north door of duomo_] leaves from my journal florence is more noisy; indeed, i think it the noisiest town i was ever in. what with the continual jangling of its bells, the rattle of austrian drums, and the street cries, _ancora mi raccapriccio_. the italians are a vociferous people, and most so among them the florentines. walking through a back street one day, i saw an old woman higgling with a peripatetic dealer, who, at every interval afforded him by the remarks of his veteran antagonist, would tip his head on one side, and shout, with a kind of wondering enthusiasm, as if he could hardly trust the evidence of his own senses to such loveliness, _o, che bellezza! che belle-e-ezza!_ the two had been contending as obstinately as the greeks and trojans over the body of patroclus, and i was curious to know what was the object of so much desire on the one side and admiration on the other. it was a half dozen of weazeny baked pears, beggarly remnant of the day's traffic. . . . it never struck me before what a quiet people americans are. james russell lowell. within the duomo the semi-dome of the eastern apse above the high altar is entirely filled with a gigantic half-length figure of christ. he raises his right hand to bless and with his left holds an open book on which is written in greek and latin, "i am the light of the world." . . . below him on a smaller scale are ranged the archangels and the mother of the lord, who holds the child upon her knees. thus christ appears twice upon this wall, once as the omnipotent wisdom, the word by whom all things were made, and once as god deigning to assume a shape of flesh and dwell with men. the magnificent image of supreme deity seems to fill with a single influence and to dominate the whole building. the house with all its glory is his. he dwells there like pallas in her parthenon or zeus in his olympian temple. to left and right over every square inch of the cathedral blaze mosaics, which portray the story of god's dealings with the human race from the creation downwards, together with those angelic beings and saints who symbolize each in his own degree some special virtue granted to mankind. the walls of the fane are therefore an open book of history, theology and ethics for all men to read. symonds, _sketches and studies in italy and greece._ [illustration: x ranconezzo _interior of the duomo_] from "a legend of brittany" deeper and deeper shudders shook the air, as the huge bass kept gathering heavily, like thunder when it rouses in its lair, and with its hoarse growl shakes the low-hung sky, it grew up like a darkness everywhere, filling the vast cathedral;--suddenly from the dense mass a boy's clear treble broke like lightning, and the full-toned choir awoke. through gorgeous windows shone the sun aslant, brimming the church with gold and purple mist. meet atmosphere to bosom that rich chant, where fifty voices in one strand did twist their varicolored tones and left no want to the delighted soul, which sank abyssed in the warm music cloud, while, far below, the organ heaved its surges to and fro. james russell lowell. the villa our villa . . . . . . lies on the slope of the alban hill; lifting its white face, sunny and still, out of the olives' pale gray green, that, far away as the eye can go, stretch up behind it, row upon row. there in the garden the cypresses, stirred by the sifting winds, half musing talk, and the cool, fresh, constant voice is heard of the fountain's spilling in every walk. there stately the oleanders grow, and one long gray wall is aglow with golden oranges burning between their dark stiff leaves of sombre green. and there are hedges all clipped and square, as carven from blocks of malachite, where fountains keep spinning their threads of light and statues whiten the shadow there. and if the sun too fiercely shine, and one would creep from its noonday glare, there are galleries dark, where ilexes twine their branchy roofs above the head. w. w. story. [illustration: xi ranconezzo _the villa of the cardinal schalchi-visconti_] truly everything here has a dramatic character. the smallness and grace of this little church gleaming with colour, its chapels and grottoes like a spiritual vision, such as i have never found elsewhere in the whole field of religious conception. it is an illustrated picture-book of poetical legends, which are bloodless and painless, though fantastic, like the lives of pious anchorites in the wilderness, and amid the birds of the field. here religion treads on the borders of fairy-land, and brings an indescribable atmosphere away from thence. gregorovius. bramante few words record bramante's great command, as from some mountain silence set apart, he blazed a trail along the way of art, upheld the torch and led his little band. he spoke alone to those who understand, not cheapening words within the public mart, living withdrawn, a high and humble heart, creating loveliness for his loved land. though he dwelt cloistered in his northern home, when he strode forth it was with unveiled face, to rear a fabric that may crumble never. they called him "master" when he wrought in rome and with earth's greatest ones shall labor ever the hand that gave to lombardy her grace. marion monks chase. [illustration: xii ranconezzo _santa prassede, the cardinal's church_] il penseroso but let my due feet never fail to walk the studious cloister's pale, and love the high embowèd roof, with antick pillars massy proof, and storied windows richly dight, casting a dim religious light. there let the pealing organ blow to the full-voiced quire below, in service high and anthems clear, as may with sweetness, through mine ear, dissolve me into ecstacies, and bring all heaven before mine eyes. milton. [illustration: xiii ranconezzo _the cloisters of santa prassede_] the bishop orders his tomb in santa prassede yet still my niche is not so cramped but thence one sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side and somewhat of the choir, those silent seats, and up into the aery dome, where live the angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk; and i shall fill my slab of basalt there, and neath my tabernacle take my rest, with those nine columns round me, two and two, the odd one at my feet where anselm stands; peach blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe as fresh poured red wine of a mighty pulse. old gandolph with his paltry onion-stone put me where i may look at him! true peach, rosy and faultless: . . . * * * * * did i say basalt for my slab, sons? black 't was ever antique-black i meant! how else shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath? the bas-relief in bronze you promised me, those pans and nymphs ye wot of, and perchance some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so, the saviour at his sermon on the mount, saint praxed in a glory, and one pan ready to twitch the nymph's last garment off, and moses with the tables,--but i know ye mark me not! robert browning. [illustration: xiv ranconezzo _the tomb of cardinal schalchi-visconti in santa prassede_] rocher-st.-pol french towns it is a drowsy little burgundian town, very old and ripe, with crooked streets, vistas always oblique, and steep moss-covered roofs. . . . i carried away from beaune the impression of something autumnal,--something rusty yet kindly, like the taste of a sweet russet pear. * * * * * at le mans as at bourges, my first business was with the cathedral, to which i lost no time in directing my steps. . . . it stands on the edge of the eminence of the town, which falls straight away on two sides of it, and makes a striking mass, bristling behind, as you see it from below, with rather small but singularly numerous flying buttresses. on my way to it i happened to walk through the one street which contains a few ancient and curious houses,--a very crooked and untidy lane, of really mediæval aspect, honored with the denomination of the grand rue. here is the house of queen berengaria. . . . the structure in question--very sketchable, if the sketcher could get far enough away from it--is an elaborate little dusky façade, overhanging the street, ornamented with panels of stone, which are covered with delicate renaissance sculpture. a fat old woman, standing in the door of a small grocer's shop next to it,--a most gracious old woman, with a bristling moustache and a charming manner,--told me what the house was. * * * * * this admirable house, in the centre of the town, gabled, elaborately timbered, and much restored, is a really imposing monument. the basement is occupied by a linen-draper, who flourishes under the auspicious sign of the mère de famille; and above her shop the tall front rises in five overhanging stories. as the house occupies the angle of a little _place_, the front is double, and carved and interlaced, has a high picturesqueness. the maison d'adam is quite in the grand style, and i am sorry to say i failed to learn what history attaches to its name. * * * * * i remember going around to the church, after i had left the good sisters, and to a little quiet terrace, which stands in front of it, ornamented with a few small trees and bordered with a wall, breast high, over which you look down steep hillsides, off into the air, and all about the neighboring country. i remember saying to myself that this little terrace was one of those felicitous nooks which the tourist of taste keeps in his mind as a picture. henry james, _a little tour in france._ [illustration: xv rocher-st.-pol _the town and the river merle_] a country town they wake you early in this hilly town. it was hardly light this morning when up and down through all its highways went a vigorous drum beat. reluctantly peeking from the window to see the troops enter our square i was disappointed to find that one regimental drummer, marching unaccompanied and lonely, had done all this mischief. what useful purpose did he serve? after a brief respite and repose the noise of another commotion came in with the morning air; a murmur which grew and became a chatter and at last a din! the next journey to the window showed that the morning market was in full swing. piles of fresh greens and rich-colored vegetables were tended by gnarled old peasant women sitting under widespread umbrellas of faded colors. but what a pleasant air it was that came through the opened sash; a mountain air with just that faint flavor of garlic tinging it which presages something satisfying to be found later. strengthened for a time by our coffee and rolls we wandered through these winding streets. we saw the weather-beaten, leaden flèche of the cathedral high on the hill, but for the time were satisfied to study the many ancient houses which still remain. their fronts framed in dark oak with a filling of amber-colored plaster topple over the public ways until they almost meet. here and there the oak beams are carved, and grinning man or snarling monster regards you from corbel or boss. in places too there are bits of old gothic detail and one doorway of true flamboyant work. there is the true poetry of architecture! in england the decorated period gives you what is handsome, the perpendicular what is stately. in france the cathedrals of paris and of rheims are splendidly serious and correct; but if in gothic work you seek imaginative, unrestrained, carelessly free poetry it is to be found in the flowing lines and exuberant fancy of the work of the flamboyant period. [illustration: xvi rocher-st.-pol _la grande rue and la place de la république_] we found much needed restoration in the hors-d'oeuvres, the omelette, the cutlet, the salads and the cheese of déjeuner,--and then followed coffee under the awning of the café. here we looked out on the grand place which had now become sleepy, all signs of the market and its business having disappeared. on it front the mairie, the bureau des postes, the hôtel du lion d'or and various centres of local commerce. we watched our neighbors in the café; the colonel with clanking sword in vigorous discussion with a local magnate; the retired bourgeois who played a desultory game of billiards or a deeply thought out match at dominoes. a quiet square it was now, and, in the shade of its plane trees, comfortable and at peace with the world, we fell asleep and made up for the wakefulness of our earlier hours. roberts, _letters from france._ our lady of the rocks high throned above th' encircling meadows fair our lady of the rocks holds queenly sway! bright kerchiefed peasants daily wend their way with clattering sabots up the winding stair, pausing at each rude rock-hewn station, there to bend the knee and many an ave say. up, up they climb, their voices echoing gay till by the virgin's shrine they kneel in prayer. this is that "jacob's ladder" famed afar to which the kings of france made pilgrimage asking for favors both in peace and war. well named!--for heavenwards the way is tending, and all these happy, pious folk presage angels of god ascending and descending. h. l. p. but, when so sad thou canst no sadder, cry, and upon thy so sore loss shall shine the traffic of jacob's ladder pitched between heaven and charing cross. so in the night my soul, my daughter, cry, clinging heaven by the hems, and lo! christ walking on the water not of gennesaret but thames. francis thompson. [illustration: xvii rocher-st.-pol _l'escalier de jacob_] oft have i seen at some cathedral door a laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, lay down his burden, and with reverent feet enter, and cross himself, and on the floor kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; far off the noises of the world retreat; the loud vociferations of the street become an undistinguishable roar. so as i enter here from day to day, and leave my burden at this minster gate, kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray, the tumult of the time disconsolate to inarticulate murmurs dies away, while the eternal ages watch and wait. how strange the sculptures that adorn these towers! this crowd of statues, on whose folded sleeves birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers and the vast minster seems a cross of flowers! but fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves watch the dead christ between the living thieves, and, underneath, the traitor judas lowers! ah! from what agonies of heart and brain, what exultations trampling on despair, what tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong, what passionate outcry of the soul in pain uprose this poem of the earth and air, this mediæval miracle of song! h. w. longfellow. [illustration: xviii rocher-st.-pol _le parvis de ste frédigonde_] the cathedral looking up suddenly, i found mine eyes confronted with the minster's vast repose. silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff left inland by the ocean's slow retreat. * * * * * it rose before me, patiently remote from the great tides of life it breasted once, hearing the noise of men as in a dream i stood before the triple northern port, where dedicated shapes of saints and kings, stern faces bleared with immemorial watch, looked down benignly grave and seemed to say, _ye come and go incessant; we remain safe in the hallowed quiets of the past; be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot, of faith so nobly realized as this._ james russell lowell. chartres all day the sky had been banked with thunderclouds, but by the time we reached chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under the horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to pass into the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a church in spain. at first all detail was imperceptible: we were in a hollow night. then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered themselves up into pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of them great sheets and showers of color. framed by such depths of darkness, and steeped in a blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar windows seemed singularly remote and yet overpoweringly vivid. now they widened into dark-shored pools splashed with sunset, now glittered and menaced like the shields of fighting angels. some were cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped from a saint's tunic, others great carven platters strewn with heavenly regalia, others the sails of galleons bound for the purple islands; and in the western wall the scattered fires of the rose window hung like a constellation in an african night. when one dropped one's eyes from these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed to symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy distances and its little islands of illusions. all that a great cathedral can be, all the meanings it can express, all the tranquillizing power it can breathe upon the soul, all the richness of detail it can fuse into a large utterance of strength and beauty, the cathedral of chartres gave us in that perfect hour. edith wharton, _fighting france._ [illustration: xix rocher-st.-pol _interior of the church of ste frédigonde_] at high mass thou who hast made this world so wondrous fair;-- the pomp of clouds; the glory of the sea; music of water; songbirds' melody; the organ of thy thunder in the air; breath of the rose; and beauty everywhere-- lord, take this stately service done to thee, the grave enactment of thy calvary in jewelled pomp and splendor pictured there! lord, take the sounds and sights; the silk and gold; the white and scarlet; take the reverent grace of ordered step; window and glowing wall-- prophet and prelate, holy men of old; and teach us children of the holy place who love thy courts, to love thee best of all. robert hugh benson. the lamp of sacrifice all else for which the builders sacrificed, has passed away--all their living interests, and aims, and achievements. we know not for what they labored, and we see no evidence of their reward. victory, wealth, authority, happiness--all have departed, though bought by many a bitter sacrifice. but of them, and their life and their toil upon the earth, one reward, one evidence, is left to us in those gray heaps of deep-wrought stone. they have taken with them to the grave their powers, their honors, and their errors; but they have left us their adoration. john ruskin. [illustration: xx rocher-st.-pol _sacristy steps in the church of ste frédigonde_] hunting the stag we spent yesterday in the forêt de c----. as the emperor had guests we were not admitted at the château, but we tramped for long through the woods. the grassy roads run beneath the embowering beeches straight from carrefour to carrefour. the gnarled and twisted trunks give to each tree a personal character and make it a master-piece of nature. of a sudden we came on the imperial hunt winding in gay procession through the forest to its rendezvous. hunting horns in triple rings of brass encircled the leading horsemen. from time to time we heard from them the familiar strains which echo through the latin quarter at mi-carême. then followed in brilliant liveries a troop of lackeys, grooms, and other servants, and the pack of staghounds held in leash but sniffing and yelping. next came the hunters themselves on high-bred mounts and in court costumes of ancient design. lastly there were barouches and landaus carrying the ladies of the court "en grande tenue." the sunlight flickering through the beech branches enlivened this brilliant train as it wound through the forest glades and disappeared down a green allée. we had continued our walk for scarce a mile when, but a short distance from us, a stag crossed our path--stood startled--with head erect,--and then with confident leaps vanished in the forest just as the distant hounds became aware of him and joined in a wild chorus. in a few moments the pack came in a rush across our path. up the different allées rode the horsemen in haste--asking of us news of the stag. we on foot joined in the pursuit,--but at last the forest swallowed one after the other, stag, and hounds, and hunters, and the sound of dog and horn. [illustration: xxi rocher-st.-pol _the château beaumesnil_] on leaving the forest we passed the small château. its conical turret roofs and lofty chimneys, and its flashing finials and girouettes make a brave show above the forest trees. the terraces overlook wide meadow lands through which the river winds until it is lost in the hazy distance. roberts, _letters from france._ clotilde in geraudun were brothers three, they had one sister dear; the cruel baron her lord must be, and the fellest and fiercest knight is he in the country far or near. he beat that lovely lady sore with a staff of the apple green, till her blood flowed down on the castle floor, and from head to foot the crimson gore on her milk-white robe was seen. * * * * * her robe was stained with the ruby tide once pure as the fleece so white; and she hied her to the river-side to wash in the waters bright. while there she stood three knights so gay came riding bold and free. "ho! tell us young serving maiden, pray where yon castle's lady may be?" "alas! no serving maid am i, but the lady of yonder castle high!" "o sister, sister, truly tell who did this wrong to thee?" "dear brothers it was the husband fell to whom you married me." * * * * * the brothers spurred their steeds in haste and the castle soon they gained. from chamber to chamber they swiftly passed nor paused till they reached the tower at last where the felon knight remained: they drew their swords so sharp and bright they thought on their sister sweet; they struck together the felon knight, and his head rolled at their feet! _translated by_ louis s. costello. [illustration: xxii rocher-st.-pol _la tour de la dame blanche_] aeginassos the isles of greece the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung,-- where grew the arts of war and peace,-- where delos rose and phoebus sprung! eternal summer gilds them yet but all, except their sun, is set. byron. the odyssey as one that for a weary space has lain lull'd by the song of circe and her wine in gardens near the pale of proserpine, where the Ægean isle forgets the main, and only the low lutes of love complain, and only shadows of wan lovers pine,-- as such an one were glad to know the brine salt on his lips, and the large air again,-- so gladly from the songs of modern speech men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, and through the music of the languid hours they hear, like ocean on a western beach, the surge and thunder of the odyssey. andrew lang. [illustration: xxiii aeginassos _the temple and the forum_] ulysses * * * * * there lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; there gloom the dark broad seas. my mariners, souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me-- that ever with a frolic welcome took the thunder and the sunshine, and opposed free hearts, free foreheads--you and i are old; old age hath yet his honor and his toil; death closes all; but something ere the end, some work of noble note, may yet be done, not unbecoming men that strove with gods. the lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; the long day wanes; the slow moon climbs: the deep moans round with many voices. come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the paths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles, whom we knew. though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. alfred tennyson. [illustration: xxiv aeginassos _the temple and the forum_] the riverside press cambridge . massachusetts u . s . a * * * * * transcriber's notes: text uses both aeginossis and Æginassos. page , "leornardesquely" changed to "leonardesquely" (leonardesquely perfect, of) page , "hors-oeuvres" changed to "hors d'oeuvres" (in the hors-d'oeuvres) page , "d'éjeuner" changed to "déjeuner" (cheese of déjeuner) page , "Ææan" changed to "Ægean" (the Ægean isle) the amateur diplomat _a novel_ by hugh s. eayrs and t. b. costain hodder and stoughton london toronto new york contents chapter i. a canadian in serajoz chapter ii. the royal ball chapter iii. daring proposals chapter iv. the meeting of four nations chapter v. an attempted assassination chapter vi. the king's command chapter vii. general lebrun chapter viii. the quarrel chapter ix. a night of riots chapter x. fate & co chapter xi. the abduction chapter xii. introducing phil crane chapter xiii. in the hill country chapter xiv. take larescu chapter xv. the trump card chapter xvi. the rescuing party chapter xvii. the renunciation chapter xviii. two fight: one falls chapter xix. married over the tongs chapter xx. the plot discovered chapter xxi. planning a future chapter xxii. ironia invaded chapter xxiii. crane's escape chapter xxiv. the new king chapter xxv. the assassination chapter xxvi. the death of the king chapter xxvii. a letter of farewell chapter xxviii. the reunion chapter i a canadian in serajoz on a sunny spring day in the year of our lord one thousand nine hundred and fifteen, a fiacre drove up to a big house in the lodz, the winding, crescent-shaped street in serajoz, the capital of ironia, in which were to be found the embassies and the residences of the wealthier class. there was nothing singular, apparently, in that particular fiacre driving up to that particular house. fiacres in scores drove up there and drove away again day after day the year through and occasioned little remark. yet if certain influential gentlemen in ironia had known who it was that jumped out of the fiacre on that sunny spring day, and if these influential ironians had had the gift of prophetic vision in superlative degree, they might have taken some action to prevent him from reaching the house of baroness draschol and her husband, mr percival varden. and then, perhaps, this story would never have been written, because ironia might never have----but this is anticipating. the fiacre stopped. almost before all motion had ceased, a tall, alert-looking young man jumped out and, fishing out a handful of coins from his pocket, implored the driver to take what was his due. the driver knew him for an american or an englishman, or anything but an ironian, and, carefully abstracting from the outstretched palm the equivalent of twice the legitimate fare, drove away with a smile on his face and a blessing upon foreigners who had not the gift of tongues. the young man stood on the sidewalk a moment. then, with the quick step which characterises the man of action, he strode up the narrow path to the house and rang the bell. it was answered by a pompous individual, resplendent in a dull strawberry-coloured plush suit, who, with the combination of obsequiousness and dignity which can be found only in the lackey in the balkans, ushered the caller into a reception-room and retired with his card. the young man looked around him appreciatively. the splendid paintings which adorned the walls, the luxurious hangings, the rich, deep carpet, the handsome lounge on which he was sitting, all appeared to surprise him. "some change from that den of varden's in montreal," he murmured. the curtains at the end of the room parted and a tall, well-groomed man of about thirty-five came quickly across the floor with outstretched hands. "don fenton, by all that's holy!" he exclaimed, pumping his visitor's hands up and down with vigorous exuberance. "percy varden, by all that's--er--profane!" said fenton, with equal enthusiasm. "old don fenton!" repeated varden, slapping the other on the back and beaming on him with real affection. "and in serajoz, of all places!" "a pretty good place to be, if i'm to judge by your surroundings," said fenton. "you must be a deputy-sultan at least, yarden, to live in such state." "ironia isn't a bad place, don," said varden, with sudden soberness. "or at least it won't be if a certain event comes to pass. if that certain event doesn't happen, i intend to leave all this"--he made a broad gesture to indicate the luxurious room in which they stood--"and find a place for myself in the line with the boys in khaki. when your country's at war, it's hard to be an exile." "i'm on my way back for that very same purpose," affirmed fenton warmly. "when the war broke i was in hungary, and i just escaped the detention camp by two hours. i got over into russia after a series of adventures--dead broke. i had a letter of credit, of course, but it was gold that was needed. it took me a long time to establish my identity and convert my paper into gold currency. then i came down through the balkans on my way home and decided to drop off and see you here in ironia. and here i am." "but," said varden, "what i want to know is how you ever got to europe in the first place. what's the meaning of all this glib talk of letters of credit and gold currency? last i heard of you, you were trying to convince the canadian public that at last eldorado had been discovered--in the form of subdivisions in saskatchewan. and i judged from your letters that the public had developed an unwonted degree of scepticism." "then you haven't heard of my good fortune?" "why, no, i guess i haven't. what's happened?" "an uncle of mine died and very unexpectedly left me several million dollars. i considered myself justified under the circumstances in following the bottom of the real estate market; that is, dropping out." "then you are _the_ fenton," declared varden, shaking hands again. "i read something in a new york paper about a young canadian coming into a big pile, but i never thought it would be you. why, that possibility never entered my mind. congratulations, old man, congratulations!" "the congratulations should be mutual, varden," said fenton. "i remember when one percival varden was getting his fifteen per week, and wasn't worth that any more than i was my twelve per--according to that honest gentleman, that fair-minded director of budding journalists, george w. jackson, city editor of the _news despatch_--the unspeakable cur!" "then time hasn't cured you of your reverence for dear old jackson--the ill-bred beast!" said varden, with a laugh that ended in a growl. "no, i'll never give up my grudge until i have a chance to assign jackson to cover an august excursion to hades. they would never let him come back." "still, they were happy days in montreal, weren't they?" said varden. "but i guess i ought to explain about my good fortune. i returned to england and met baroness draschol in london. we fell in love, and that wonderful woman overlooked my personal deficiencies, my poverty and my lack of position, and actually married me! my wife is connected with the royal family of ironia and owns so much property i haven't found out about it all yet. and yet she married me, poor old hack scribbler that i was. fenton, when you meet her you'll wonder too how it could ever have happened. i've been married three years and i'm still dazed at my wonderful good fortune." "three years married and still in the raving state!" jeered fenton. "one week generally serves to translate a bridegroom from that condition. varden, you must be the luckiest fellow in the world." "i am," affirmed varden emphatically. "but wait until you see sonia. she'll be delighted to meet you. we've often talked about you. and by jove, don, you are looking well!" fenton was about thirty years of age--a handsome fellow in a healthy, outdoor sort of way. he stood over six feet, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed. set him in a crowd in any country of dark-pigmented, short-statured men and he stood out by contrast like a norse god. it is not likely that any woman would ever refuse him the tribute of a second glance. and yet fenton was not in any sense a lady's man. the firm mouth, the strong jaw and clear eye told of resolve, of determination, of self-reliance. he had a finely chiselled face, a frank, clean, open face. fenton was a manly man. it was said of him that he stood four-square to every wind that blew. "married yet?" went on varden. "no," replied the other. "then you've no one with you? no ties, no one whose wishes or whims you must consider?" "free as the air of the western prairies," returned fenton. "why?" "well, if you can stay over and if you have the same taste for excitement that you had in the old days, i can gratify it for you, that's all." "tell me what it is all about. and, by the way, what are your people in ironia going to do? going to join us in this war? i heard a lot of talk about it as i came through russia. ironia seems to have been pretty well featured in the newspapers lately." varden looked around, then drew his chair closer to fenton's. "that's just the excitement i spoke of, don," he said. "ironia is going to figure in the war; that part of it is certain. but on which side? there are two factions in the country, and at the present time we are fighting like wild cats to determine the policy of the country. both sides are determined to win; and let me tell you, don, they take their politics hard in this land. it's a fight to the bitter end in which lives are not counted of any great importance. "i guess you know pretty well how matters stand in ironia," he went on. "the people as a whole are heart and soul with the allies. austria holds serania and mulkovina, two provinces that used to be part of ironia. what alsace and lorraine are to france, these two provinces are to ironia. it is certain that if the allies win russia will seize both serania and mulkovina, and then ironia's chance of bringing her sons and daughters in the lost provinces back into the fold will have been lost for ever. russia offers us the two provinces as the price of throwing in our lot with the allies. ironians see that it is their only chance and they clamour for war on austria." "but," said varden, speaking cautiously, "there is one obstacle. king alexander of ironia is dead against the allies. his sympathies are all with the teutonic alliance. and he is possibly, next to the kaiser, the most absolute monarch in europe to-day. the envoys of germany and austria are camping on his doorstep, urging him to join them. he would throw the weight of ironian intervention into the scales against the allies to-morrow if he were not afraid of the feeling of his subjects. fearing to act according to the dictates of his own mind, he nevertheless refuses to obey the clearly expressed mandate of the people and strike a blow for the restoration of the lost provinces." "does the king stand alone?" asked fenton. "by no means," replied varden. "there is a faction that stands by him, composed of a number of the nobles and the austrian section of the country. the majority of the nobles, practically all of the business classes and the common people _en masse_ favour an alliance with england, france and russia. needless to state, i am with the latter faction. i am, in fact, right in the thick of it--sort of a lieutenant to prince peter, the king's brother, who acts as leader of the popular cause, and who is, by the way, the strongest man in the country. it's a great fight, don--intrigues, plots and counterplots, with secret societies on both sides, duels, assassinations and all the other properties necessary to a balkan imbroglio. one never knows when a bullet may not come his way or a knife find lodgment between his shoulder-blades." varden had risen and was pacing up and down the room excitedly. he paused in front of his guest. "do you remember the thrill you get in a fight for a big news story?" he asked. "that's all child's play in comparison with this game." fenton stood up in turn and faced his friend. "i intend to place myself at the disposal of my country," he said. "i've been wondering how i could serve best--by enlisting in england, or by staying right here and helping in the fight to bring ironia into line with the allied cause. if you think i could be of any use, varden, i would like to figure in the fight here. every cent i've got, my own time, my life, if necessary, are at your disposal." "great!" cried varden, wringing fenton's hand for the third time. "can you be of assistance, boy? i wish i had a hundred like you. and a little cash won't be amiss either. count yourself in from now on. you've enlisted in the cause." "well, what's the next move?" asked fenton, impatient for action and eager for a closer acquaintance with the thrilling experiences of ironian intrigue. "have patience, you old fire-eater," admonished varden with an amused smile. "there's a ball at the palace to-night. i'll get an invitation for you and probably i'll be able to introduce you to some of the leading characters in the drama. they'll all be there. all you'll have to do this time will be to keep your eyes and cars open." as fenton walked down the steps and into the waiting fiacre, he smiled to himself. "don fenton, diplomat, is a new one," he said. "but one man in his time plays many parts. i guess it will be more exciting than reporting or selling real estate, anyway." chapter ii the royal ball the ball at the palace was a very brilliant affair. the rooms were hung with a thousand lights; the flowers, many of them strange to fenton's western knowledge, and the decorations were on a munificent scale. beautiful women and handsome men in vari-coloured uniforms moved here and there, intent upon enjoying themselves. fenton was impressed and not a little surprised. the whole atmosphere was one of wealth and luxury, such wealth and such luxury as one does not expect to find in the kingdoms of the balkans. fenton was paying a mental tribute to it all when varden touched him on the arm and took him away to present him to king alexander and his consort. fenton had heard that the king was a charming man, and his majesty's personality made the few words of welcome which he uttered well worth remembrance. alexander was possibly the handsomest monarch in europe. dark, tall and soldierly he looked every inch a king. it came to fenton as he stood there chatting, that here was a man who would have his own way. the formalities of royal presentation over, fenton was backing away when he caught a glimpse of an officer, apparently of high rank, approaching the king, with a young girl on his arm. fenton looked at the girl--and forgot everything else. she was tall and graceful, with an air that could only be defined as regal. the oval face was surmounted with a crowning glory of hair, dark and lustrous. her skin was like the petals of a wild rose. her deep violet eyes, large and unwavering of gaze, were fringed with long lashes that imparted the only suggestion of coquetry to a face of surpassing witchery and charm. fenton continued to stare in a literal haze of admiration. he was aroused from his dream by the reappearance of varden. the latter took him by the arm and propelled him forward until they stood in the presence of the divinity who had so completely set fenton's wits wool-gathering. fenton, awe-struck at this good fortune, felt like a humble mortal suddenly transported into the august company of the gods on mount olympus. "your highness," he heard varden say to the girl, "may i present mr fenton, my friend from canada? fenton, this is her highness, the princess olga." the canadian bowed low over the princess's hand, surely the most dainty hand in all the world. he was presented in due form to her escort, the grand duke miridoff, a heavy-set man with hawk-like features, long moustache and side-whiskers, which stood out aggressively with an unmistakable teutonic suggestion. the grand duke typified the domineering efficiency of the military caste. fenton, murmuring a commonplace greeting, felt a strange antagonism for miridoff. the latter's manner, while strictly courteous and even urbane, did not conceal the fact that miridoff himself look no pleasure in the introduction. in a few minutes varden, with a happy tact, discovered an errand that took both himself and miridoff away. fenton allowed his glance to follow their retreating figures for a moment, and then, conscious of the scrutiny of his companion, turned back to the princess. she was studying him with frank interest and did not seem at all disposed to hide it. "i must have a long talk with you, mr fenton," she said, speaking in excellent english. the conversation previously had been conducted in french, in which fenton was well schooled. "you are so--so different from us. i have met but two americans before, and they were of austrian descent. you see, we are off the beaten track of tourists here in ironia. coming from your strange, big country across the ocean you seem almost like a visitor from mars." the princess smiled, and if her face was charming in repose it was ten times more so when it expressed animation. fenton's diffidence left him. he began to talk of canada, of the vastness of the country, of its customs and its freedom; particularly of its freedom. the princess listened with deepest interest. "i should like to go to america--to canada," said she. "it would be so splendid to be able to do what one wanted without bothering with customs and etiquette; to be able to go about without endless crowds of people staring at one." "canadians turn out to stare at princesses the same as they do here in ironia," answered fenton. "in fact, as their opportunities are fewer, they probably make more of them. and even if you were to travel incognito--i'm afraid my countrymen would let their admiration get the better of their politeness." they were soon on most friendly terms, quite forgetful of the fact that she was a princess of the royal line. in fact, fenton found it difficult to realise that his companion was anything but an unusually attractive partner at a dance; and she seemed quite as willing to let all other considerations recede into the background. a quarter of an hour of most delightful interest passed, though it seemed but a moment to fenton, when a tall, elderly man in uniform brought their _tête-à-tête_ to an end. "mr fenton, this is my father," said the princess. the canadian, who had been observing everything, acknowledged the introduction with a correct imitation of the stiff formal bow that seemed an integral part of ironian etiquette. the princess's father bore a striking resemblance to king alexander. could this be the prince peter to whom varden had referred? they talked for a few minutes, the prince also speaking english with fluency. then someone came, a little understrapper in a most gorgeous uniform, and bore the princess away to dance. "lucky devil!" sighed the canadian to himself. the two men walked out to a balcony, and on the prince's first remark fenton became assured of his identity. "mr varden has spoken of you to me," said prince peter. "he intimates that it is your intention to remain for some time in ironia and to lend your assistance to the cause that mr varden has himself espoused." fenton responded warmly, and for half an hour the two men talked war problems and ironia's relation thereto. prince peter discussed the situation with a frankness which might have astonished the young canadian had he not been aware that all ironia was thoroughly conversant with most phases of the vexed problem. when the prince returned to the ball-room, he left fenton with an unbounded enthusiasm for the new cause and a deep respect for prince peter himself. the latter was a born leader in every respect, particularly in his ability to win adherents. fenton lit a cigarette and started down a dark path leading to the extensive and intricately planned royal gardens. he wanted to be alone. he wanted to be able to think, to dream. and his thoughts and dreams at first ran exclusively along one groove. how beautiful the princess was! he began to reflect on the future--his future and hers. in a moment his thoughts took a gloomy turn. he would go back to canada, which now for the first time seemed void of interest. she would marry a man of royal blood and rule in some such country as ironia. he pictured her married for diplomatic reasons to a royal nonentity, condemned to a lifetime of endless etiquette, of senseless rigmarole. he reflected darkly on the benighted condition of the old world which made such things possible. was there no way that an ambitious young millionaire from the new world could succeed in upsetting this almost inevitable arrangement, by scaling the walls of custom and tradition? in keeping with his thoughts his pace had become savagely energetic. he now discovered that he had wandered well away from the palace into a maze of dark paths. he stopped and looked about him. and then suddenly he heard voices. they proceeded from a thick clump of bushes close to his right. one voice was raised sufficiently high above the rest to carry its message to his ears. the owner of the voice was speaking in german, and fenton knew enough of that language to catch what was being said. it interested him so acutely that he stepped through the bushes cautiously in the direction from which the sound came. in a small clearing, part of which was thrown into relief by a ray of light from a nearby building, stood a group of men. one of them turned and the light fell direct on his face. with a start of surprise fenton recognised the grand duke miridoff. "are we all here?" asked miridoff. from where he stood behind the bushes, fenton could watch the party without being seen himself. he noted that they were all in uniform or evening dress, having apparently left the ball-room to attend this stealthy rendezvous. it struck fenton that the majority of the group were not ironians. they gathered about miridoff, who quite apparently was the leader. "members of the society of crossed swords," miridoff was saying, "we have heard news of such importance that we deemed it necessary to have word passed quietly to each of you to meet here. "events are taking an unfavourable turn," he went on. "the king is still loyal to our cause, but the strong feeling throughout the country is making an impression on him. peter is pressing him strongly. i regret to have to state it, but i can clearly see the king is wavering." there was a moment's silence, and then miridoff began again in such low tones that fenton could hardly catch the words. "i received important news to-night from the front. the russians are massing for an invasion of mulkovina. it will be hard to hold them. once they get possession of mulkovina, without ironia's assistance, no power on earth will wrest it from them." miridoff's voice at this point sunk almost to a whisper. "if the people know that russia is ready for the advance, nothing will prevent them from declaring for the allies while there is still time to gain the two provinces by so doing. alexander's opposition will be swept away. there is only one course left. ironia must be ranged on germany's side before the news of the russian mobilisation leaks out!" this statement was followed by a babel of discussion in which most of the men took part, and the confused tangle of talk proved too difficult for fenton's inadequate knowledge of the german tongue. he lost the thread of the discussion until the decisive tones of miridoff again cut through the talk. "there is but one course open. if prince peter is not there to prompt the king, to urge his arguments of policy, alexander could be rushed into declaring war against russia at once. that is what we must bring about. peter must be removed!" a general murmur followed miridoff's statement, and out of it fenton's amazed senses picked one word--"assassination!" "well, who's to do it?" someone asked. "it is to decide that point that we are here," answered miridoff. "it is a regrettable necessity, but our cause demands it. peter dead, the people will be like a flock of sheep without a shepherd. is it necessary to get your consent to the step?" the men assented as with one voice to what their leader had said. "our oath binds us to secrecy," said miridoff. drawing from his pocket some slips of paper, he deposited them in his hat. "two are marked," he said. "those who draw them will be called upon to perform the service. are you agreed?" rooted to the spot with horror, teuton watched the men draw in turn from the hat. after all had drawn, two of them stepped aside for consultation with miridoff. "the rest of you had better go," said the latter. "this place is none too safe. remember, not a word. perhaps by to-morrow morning we shall have news for you, news that will shake the world and cause a grey fear to creep into the faces of the cursed english!" chapter iii daring proposals for the first time now, fenton became aware that the happy accident which brought him as eavesdropper to this extraordinary assignation had also placed him in a most dangerous position. on completing their consultation, the three men made straight in his direction. fenton tried to shrink back farther into the rhododendrons, but even in the darkness they did not afford sufficient shelter for a man with the conspicuous white front of evening dress. he decided that his best chance of safely lay in flight. pulling the collar of his dress coat up around his neck, he started off cautiously. unfortunately he stumbled and nearly fell headlong into a small shrub. sharp exclamations from the rear warned him that he had betrayed his presence to the three conspirators. throwing all other considerations to the winds, therefore, fenton ran for dear life. the men behind took up the pursuit with business-like grimness. not a word was uttered, but in an instant he heard the steady pound of their feet and then the sharp discharge of a revolver. a bullet whizzed close past his ear, showing that the conspirators were not firing entirely at random. several more shots followed in the next few minutes, and in each instance they were but an inch or two off their mark. fenton had been a sprinter in his college days, and the knowledge that three expert and determined marksmen are on one's trail is perhaps the greatest spur to velocity that could be imagined. without paying any heed to his course, he plunged straight ahead, through shrubbery and garden plots, around fountains and over railings. his pursuers made up in desperation what they lacked in length of leg, and it took the young canadian some time to gain a comfortable lead. at last he outdistanced them, however, and by pursuing a devious course landed, all unwittingly, at a side door of the palace. he pushed it open and, finding no one to stop him, made his way down a corridor toward the sound of the music. without pausing to catch his breath or plan any definite course, fenton showed in the ball-room. glances that drifted his way fixed themselves on him with astonishment, until finally the canadian found that, much as he had desired to avoid notice, he had instead made himself the cynosure of all eyes. the reason was not hard to find. in his flight he had broken recklessly through brambles and thick shrubbery. the front of his once immaculate dress shirt was willed and soiled; his face scratched, his hair rumpled. he looked as though he had been through a football scrimmage. to find varden was his first endeavour, but the latter unfortunately was nowhere in sight. so fenton decided to seek prince peter in person, and convey to him direct the startling news he had stumbled upon. threading his way blindly through the gay ranks in search of the leader of the allied cause, he came in contact with the grand duke miridoff. the two men halted and stood for a moment face to face, like belligerents. their glances crossed like rapier blades. miridoff coldly and without haste appraised the disorderliness of the young canadian's attire. "mr fenton has been strolling in the gardens?" he said. fenton was no diplomat. he was unversed in the art of exchanging polished phrases in the face of tense situations, of veiling threats, innuendoes, warnings, in the guise of polite rejoinders. he replied with the directness and vigour that are supposed to be characteristic of the canadian character. "yes, i have been strolling in the gardens," he said, "and it's lucky i happened to be around just when i did!" miridoff, accustomed to the devious ways of diplomacy, was thrown off his guard by the sheer unexpectedness of so direct a rejoinder. he regained his poise in an instant, however, and treated fenton to a cold glare. "perhaps mr fenton will find it unlucky for himself that he happened to be around just when he did," he said, passing on. the remark set fenton thinking. undoubtedly the situation presented certain possibilities that had not occurred to him before. his presence at the meeting of the society of crossed swords, known as it now was to the conspirators, would not serve as a deterrent to the carrying out of their foul purpose. instead, it had given them a double aim; it would be advisable to get him out of the way before the plans laid for the death of prince peter were attempted. that much was quite clear even to one so completely unversed as himself in the ruthless way of balkan politics. he was a marked man. it was equally clear to him that he was practically powerless in the matter. he could not go to the police or the military authorities and lay bare the whole thing to them. he would merely be laughed at for his pains. who was he, an unknown foreigner, to lay such a serious charge against so illustrious a personage as the grand duke miridoff? that course could have no effect other than to destroy his own usefulness to the cause he had espoused and perhaps to bring suspicion down on the prince and varden. fenton saw clearly that the only thing for him to do was to acquaint the prince of the plot against him and take the chance of any danger to himself which might arise in the meantime from the animosity of miridoff's myrmidons. he continued his search for prince peter with an almost feverish eagerness, recognising that every minute was precious now. delay on his part might mean the death of the leader of the popular cause with all that such a calamity would entail. miridoff's reasoning had been right; the prince out of the way, there would be little difficulty in persuading the king to swing ironia into line against russia. but, to fenton, the possibilities did not stop there. prince peter was father of the loveliest woman in the world! ever since he had spent those golden minutes with the princess olga, thoughts of her had never been entirely out of his mind. even as he had dashed headlong through the gardens, a picture of her as she had last appeared to him, in all her regal beauty and dainty girlishness floating off to the strains of "the blue danube" on the arm of a native officer, had remained with him. could this great sorrow be permitted to come to her? it was to the princess herself that he finally told the story of the plot. he could not locate her father, and, in sheer desperation, sought her out where she stood at the end of the long ball-room. his dishevelled appearance created comment in the group surrounding her, but fenton, casting finesse to the winds, rode rough-shod over all considerations of court etiquette. "your highness," he said, "i must see you for a few minutes--alone. i assure you it is a matter of great urgency." the princess, glancing at him intently, divined the earnestness behind his unusual request, and, with a murmured word, dismissed the partner to whom she had been engaged for the next dance. all eyes followed them as they crossed to a nearby alcove. "your highness," said fenton earnestly, "i want to apologise, first for appearing in such a condition, and second for what must appear to you as gross ignorance of all that pertains to royal etiquette. i can plead in extenuation only the urgency of the case." he told her in a few words of his blind excursion outside and its astonishing sequel. "i may have done wrong by telling you this," he concluded, "but i could find neither your father nor my friend, varden, and i realised that every moment was precious." for a moment there was silence. the eloquent dark eyes of the princess, which had been fixed on his face during the recital, were now filled with a troubled appeal. "i cannot find words to thank you, mr fenton," she said, clasping her hands together. "your news is disquieting, although i have feared for the safety of the prince, my father, ever since war broke out. anything is possible in ironia now--even that they should want the death of a prince who has never had a thought beyond the welfare of his country! he is the most unselfish man that ever lived, i think, mr fenton. one who has not known him can have no conception of the way in which he has given himself to the service of ironia." fenton listened to her in a conflict of emotion. the compassion that he felt for this beautiful butterfly, enmeshed in the net of royal rank and placed within a circle where constant danger and intrigue were part of the price of position, was overshadowed by a still deeper feeling. fenton had progressed thus far along the steep upward grade called life without any more lasting love episodes than an occasional brief flirtation. he had always responded willingly enough to the appeal of a pretty face, but his first glimpse of the princess olga had stirred something within him that was deeper than admiration and more disturbing than any emotion he had ever experienced before. her beauty left him in a condition where coherent speech was difficult and connected thought impossible. this condition of mind was intensified by the position in which they were now placed. in the face of danger threatening, the fact of her position was lost. she was no longer a princess who might condescendingly stoop to a brief friendliness with a commoner from a strange country; she had become simply a girl, alarmed and distressed at the dangerous position of her father. "i am so frightened!" she went on, averting her gaze to hide the look almost of terror that had come. "my father left the palace a few minutes ago. could it be--can they carry out their purpose--before he can be warned of the danger?" fenton thought for a moment. "no," he answered confidently. "the prince must have left before i returned to the palace. in that case he got away before those precious rogues had any chance to carry out their plans. he must be reached at once and warned." "but," the girl's voice came tensely, "i have no idea where he has gone. he has come and gone much of late, never telling anyone of his purpose or his movements. he may even return here before the night is over!" "that wouldn't do," said fenton, alarmed in turn. "i must find varden. he'll be certain to know where the prince has gone." he bowed and would at once have left her to renew his search for varden had she not detained him with a gesture. "tell me, mr fenton, did you by any chance recognise the men in the garden?" it was on the tip of fenton's tongue to tell her all that he knew of the matter, but the recollection that when he had first seen her she had been in the company of miridoff came in time to check him. "it was very dark in the gardens and i have only been in the city a day," he replied. "there was but one i recognised in the group, and it would perhaps be wise not to name him." "but i must know," persisted the princess. "we must understand from what source the blow might come. no consideration can outweigh that of my father's safety, and if i find him first i must know against whom to warn him." "that is true," said fenton, after a moment's consideration. then with some hesitation, "i may be making a great blunder in telling you this. you see the one man i recognised--and he was undoubtedly the ring-leader--was with you when i had the honour of being presented to you to-night." there was a moment's pause, during which the princess stared at him with eyes wide-open in their incredulity. then her manner changed. she became wholly the princess again and there was unmistakable hauteur in her bearing and, when she spoke, in her voice. "you have made a most extraordinary mistake, mr fenton," she said. "it is quite impossible that the one you have named could have been there." "i was not mistaken," he declared. "i saw the grand duke miridoff!" "i do not doubt that you thought you recognised him," said the princess, her mood changing again to one almost of appeal, "but it was a fancied resemblance. the darkness deceived you. you have met him but once, and the mistake might easily occur." "your highness, there was no mistake," said fenton earnestly. "i have no idea in what regard you hold this man. it may be that i am sacrificing all possibility of retaining a small measure of your favour and good opinion by my course. but there can be no doubt that the man who is plotting your father's assassination is the grand duke miridoff! i saw him and heard him quite clearly. a few minutes ago i met him back there in the ball-room and he showed by what he said to me that he knew--what i know. it's war to the knife from now on! "your highness," he went on, "whether or no you believe me when i tell you that the instigator of these men is the grand duke miridoff, at least you must credit the fact that your father is in terrible danger. i saw and heard the men who have planned his death. they are fully in earnest. don't refuse to believe what i say on that score. you know how important he is to his country at this time. he must be warned at once. it was the gravity of the situation that impelled me to tell you such alarming news. i sincerely regret not having been able to spare you this trying ordeal." the distress of the princess was so palpable that fenton did not stop for further words, but, bowing gravely, set off in anxious search of the elusive varden. he found him at last in the supper-room. quickly he told varden of the plot and of his conversation with the princess. varden received the news gravely, but did not appear much surprised. "we've been expecting some move from them," he said, "but i didn't think they would go to such lengths as this. it's lucky you stumbled in on their little gathering, don. now we know the cards they hold." "but where's prince peter?" "safe," replied varden. "he's out of their reach for the time being. i expect to see him inside of an hour and can put him on his guard. no need for worry, don. we have the beggars checkmated whatever move they make." fenton smiled delightedly. the lust of conflict had seized him. he was finding this new game extremely interesting. even the attitude of the princess olga could not dampen his ardent spirits; she would soon find that he had been right, and fenton looked forward to another interview with her when a better understanding had been established. "by the by, percy, there's one angle of this affair that puzzles me," he said. "who is miridoff and what's his position with regard to the princess olga?" "miridoff," said varden, "is the real leader of the austro-german party. he is of austrian descent; quite a large section of the people of ironia are of teutonic origin. he belongs to one of the branches of the royal line of the hapsburgs and is a large landowner. until recently he acted as director of foreign affairs for king alexander, but public opinion forced him out of office at the outbreak of the war. since then he's been directing the agitation for a germanic alliance. he's a man who will stand a lot of watching. to put it in the vernacular, miridoff is a bad actor." "but where does he come in with the princess?" persisted the canadian. "when i mentioned him as leader of that crowd of assassins she seemed upset." "one would rather expect that," said varden dryly. "you see the king has the say-so in regard to marrying off all members of the royal family, and it's pretty generally understood that he has picked out miridoff for olga." "what!" in the one word fenton expressed all the amazement, horror, rage and infinite regret that he felt at the announcement of so unbelievable a fact. "yes, that's how things stand," said varden, quite unconcernedly. "i think the king has the idea that by bringing off the match he'll get the two warring leaders closer together and perhaps wear down peter's opposition to the german alliance. it's rather a shrewd move on the part of the old boy." "varden, i could gladly strangle you for speaking of so unthinkable a match in such a tone! why, it's impossible!" declared fenton. "such a thing wouldn't be tolerated in this civilised day. we're not in the dark ages." "that's just where we are," replied varden, amused at his friend's vehemence. "these balkan kingdoms are farther away from in point of time than ironia is from canada in point of distance. why, matches of this kind are quite common--the rule in fact." "but--but will olga consent to a marriage with this murderer, for that's all he is?" "of course," assented the other. "olga is a sensible girl and has the warmly patriotic temperament so common to these balkan people. the king's word is law, and beyond question. it's only a matter of time until----" fenton's rage slowly subsided, leaving only one phase of the case fixed in his mind. she was irretrievably lost so far as he was concerned. he had not seriously thought otherwise, of course, but every word that varden uttered widened the distance that yawned between a canadian of no particular rank, albeit a millionaire, and the semi-regal position of a balkan princess. he got up and walked to a railing near which they had been standing, and stared morosely out into the tangled gloom of the garden. he stood thus for a moment or two before he felt the pressure of varden's hands on his shoulder. "what ever can be wrong with you?" demanded the other, somewhat testily. "don't see any reason why you should take this to heart. anyway, the chances are that the princess won't have to marry miridoff after all. we're going to settle his hash before we get through with him. look here--you're not in love with the girl!" fenton glared. varden grinned. "oh, ho!" said the latter. he started to laugh, then checked himself sharply and patted his friend's shoulder. "so that's it? never mind, don, you'll soon get over it. i wouldn't advise you to let this--er--fancy of yours go too far. they don't take kindly here to presumptuous strangers who show an interest in their princesses." fenton squared around, as belligerent and impetuous again as ever. "look here, percy," he demanded eagerly, "don't you think there would be a chance? can't these ten-centuries-behind-the-times ideas be overcome when new-world determination and wealth and--well unbounded love, are combined to overcome them?" "the idea's a new one," returned varden. "as things have been up to the present you haven't the ghost of a chance. but there's going to be an upheaval, a general mix-up around here before the war is over, and perhaps ironia will come out of it with some new ideas. anyway, all's fair in love and war, and you're in both, i guess, now. here's luck to you, don, you headstrong old smasher of social barriers! i don't wish miridoff any particular bad luck, but if i get a chance i'll direct a bullet his way myself." "but look here," he added quickly, as another thought struck him, "you shouldn't be standing there. you're a marked man, you know, and you certainly make a fair target standing in this light. we had better be off now for home. i'll just hunt up my wife and we'll get away. by the way, i took the liberty of having your trunks sent up to our place. you'll stay with us from now on." he drifted away and fenton walked slowly back into the ball-room which was now beginning to thin out. for a few minutes he stood staring into the swaying ranks before him with eyes that saw nothing. he felt constrained and gloomy again, so that the almost oriental splendour of the scene and the sensuous lilt of the music had no appeal for him. then he came suddenly to himself, as though startled into consciousness by an electric shock. his glance had been arrested in its aimless course and held by the glance of another. across forty feet of ball-room, interrupted by the frequent passing of whirling couples through the line of vision, his glance held that of the princess. there was interest, interrogation, perhaps something more, in the seriously beautiful eyes of olga. she was unattended for the moment. like a sleep-walker, or a mesmeric subject, fenton moved across the floor, staring straight ahead and letting the dancers dodge him as they might. he found himself standing before her and bowed with worshipping deference. "his highness, the prince peter, is quite safe," he said in a low tone. "i knew you would want to know. i found varden and he is setting out at once to give your father warning." the princess thanked him. fenton, glancing at her earnestly, was aware that her attitude had subtly changed. he made a bold decision on the instant. "you said not so long ago," the words came rapidly, "that you would like an opportunity to get away from the restrictions of royalty and be--just one of the people for a time. will you place yourself in that position for just a few minutes now? i have something to say to you. will you permit me to speak, not as donald fenton, to olga, princess of the royal house of ironia, but as one man to one woman?" the princess did not answer, but she did not glance away, and fenton read in her eyes interest, expectancy, perhaps even a little fear. the experience of talking freely to a stranger, a young man, was distinctly a new one for her, but hardly one that could be entered upon without trepidation. to step from the well-ordered path of royalty, where nothing happened but what has been laid down by, tradition, was like a plunge into unplumbed depths. suppose she found herself just a woman after all, and capable of falling in love with young men who were tall and straight with direct blue eyes and cleft chins? "then it's settled," said fenton. nothing had been said, but both knew that it was agreed he should proceed on the suggested basis. "i'm going to talk to you as a man in canada would talk to a girl he was interested in; only more so, because i'm going to give you advice--something that even a canadian might hesitate to do the first time he had met a girl. i've heard about miridoff and--well, the rest of it. all i want to say is, don't give in to them! don't allow any patriotic impulse to gain your consent to this monstrous match. the man is a rogue, a would-be murderer. perhaps back in the middle ages it was considered proper for beautiful girls to marry men of his stamp, but this is the year . if you could only see this thing from the new-world angle! over there, not only is every man his own master, but every woman her own mistress." pausing a moment for breath, he hurried on: "a most extraordinary thing i'm doing, isn't it? standing up and lecturing you, and on whom you should or should not marry, of all subjects! but i'm going to do a still more extraordinary thing. remember, i'm talking as a man to a woman, and you for the moment are just olga to me, not princess olga. if a man meets a woman and knows her for the one he was destined to love, and if he fears it may never be his great good fortune to see her again, why--he tells her of his love!" he stopped, for over the face of his companion had come an expression of mingled confusion and sadness. as the dying sun catches the fleeting clouds and incarnadines them with a riot of red which spreads and deepens and then slowly fades away, so the lovely face of the princess became suffused with blushes. "i fear we must return to the more conventional basis, mr fenton," she said hurriedly. "perhaps what olga might learn would serve to disturb the peace of mind of princess olga--afterward. please do not say any more!" "as you wish." fenton felt vaguely troubled. "you know what i desired to say. that is sufficient. if i can ever be of assistance to you, command me. perhaps," and he stood up very straight at the thought, "you may some day desire to step out of the mediæval ages into the twentieth century, to live the free life that the women of the west enjoy. if circumstances ever change so that you can order your own future without obeying the dictates of kings and meddling statesmen--if it ever comes to that, you belong to me! i love you; i loved you the first moment i saw you. if you could remain just plain olga long enough you would come to love me too. i am so confident of it that, when you slip back into your high station again, it is going to be a great comfort to me that i could have won you if a king's whim and a foolish custom had not stood in the way. and, do you know, i almost feel that soon you will become very tired of being just princess olga and long for the right to be olga--a woman with a will of her own and the right to place her love where she wills. until that time--good-bye, olga." for a moment they looked deep into each other's eyes, and fenton read a message that gave him comfort, if not hope. then he bowed very low. "your highness, i wish you good night." chapter iv the meeting of four nations from the glare and glitter of the ball-room they stepped out to wait for their car--varden and his wife and fenton. the baroness draschol was a very charming woman of a striking latin type. varden, a strong man among men, was quite content to play second fiddle in the matrimonial partnership he had formed with this beautiful young ironian. he fairly idolised her, and with every moment spent in her society fenton understood more fully why. she was plump, merry, with flashing brown eyes that soon brought everything within their range into thraldom, and a voice trained to charm by that greatest of elocutionary teachers, nature. she alternately petted her english husband and drove him to raging jealousy by keeping a flock of ironian dandies in her train. the baroness had paid fenton the high compliment of not attempting to flirt with him, recognising intuitively perhaps that cupid, the universal booking agent, had billed this blond young giant for another engagement; certainly recognising, for she was a shrewd young person and also very much in love with her husband, that no matter who else she may lay herself out to captivate, it is never wise for a wife to flirt with her husband's friends. husbands do not like it. accordingly she had welcomed fenton as a friend, and they were already "as thick as thieves," as varden put it. the motor-car rolled up and varden helped his wife in. fenton was following when a figure suddenly sprang up from the darkness beside them and ran forward. the stranger's arm came up as he ran. as the man from canada sank into the seat, two shots rang out in quick succession. fenton felt his hat go and, with the sudden forward lurch of the car, he fell into the empty seat in front. this probably saved his life, for the second shot missed by a safe margin. at the first alarm, varden sprang to his feet, and, after gazing hurriedly around, threw himself in front of his wife to shield her from the fire. "on! top speed!" he called in ironian to the driver. the latter responded promptly, and before the assassin could attempt another shot they had bumpily navigated a cobble-stoned curve and were skimping away over the pavement with a momentary increase of momentum. "that was meant for you, don," said varden, settling back into his seat. "hurt?" "never touched me!" responded fenton. "hat's gone, that's all. i'm convinced now that they really do take their politics hard in this country." they soon arrived at the big house in the lodz. in the hall varden lingered a moment to whisper to his guest. "go right to your room and wait there for me. there's big business afoot to-night." fenton waited impatiently in his room. in a few minutes his friend appeared with a couple of heavy cloaks of dark cloth. "we haven't much time," said the latter. "slip into this and muffle yourself up well. it's chilly enough out at this hour, and in addition it wouldn't be healthy for us if we were recognised. sharp's the word. the others will be waiting." "you're most infernally mysterious about it all," grumbled fenton. "where are we going? what others? there aren't any more rhododendron patches to be visited, are there?" without replying varden led the way outside. they let themselves out by a rear gate and quickly plunged into a maze of side streets. the city was more or less deserted. the air was chill and damp and the first streaks of dawn were breaking up the leaden darkness of the sky. they had walked for several minutes, for the most part along narrow, dingy streets with ancient houses on either side that seemed ready to totter forward through sheer old age, when varden turned sharply and came to a stop in front of one of the largest and quaintest houses they had encountered. it was as dark and still as its neighbours on each side. "stairs are creaky, step lightly," whispered varden, producing a latch-key which gave them entrance to a dark and narrow hall-way. "can't be too careful, you know. even a creaking stairway could be heard out there on the road now. the very walls have ears these days." clambering cautiously up two flights in darkness of stygian intensity, they came to a landing across which fell a narrow strip of light, emanating from under a doorway. varden knocked softly three times in quick succession and then twice slowly. the door was instantly opened and they stepped into a dimly lighted ante-room. the man who had admitted them wore the uniform of an officer of the ironian guards. "you are late," he said. "your friend?" "by the prince's permission," responded varden. the officer disappeared into an inner room and returned almost immediately, motioning them to enter. they found themselves in a long room, very richly decorated. fenton thought how oddly out of consonance it was with the outside appearance of the house. around a long table eight men were seated, one chair being empty. fenton started and could hardly forbear from rubbing his eyes. surely the tall man seated at the end of the table was the great english diplomatist, sir john chester? the canadian looked again and became convinced that his eyes had not been playing tricks with him. there was no mistaking the man who had figured so largely in the foreign policy of the british empire. spare, straight and muscular, sir john was easily the outstanding personality in the group around the table. and, piling surprise on surprise, next to him sat monsieur d'aubignè, the famous french diplomat. sir john was speaking as they entered, each word falling with the incisive emphasis that was one of his best-known characteristics. prince peter was there too, seated beside a man whose face was vaguely familiar to the canadian. fenton studied the handsome, heavily bearded countenance of the stranger for a moment before he recognised him as count grobenski of the russian foreign ministry. the rest of the group were quite unknown to fenton, but he concluded that they were ironians. then he remembered certain hints that varden had let drop that afternoon to the effect that representatives of the allied nations were in serajoz. varden had been very mysterious about it, but fenton had gained the impression that the object of their visit had been to bring ironia to a definite stand. prince peter rose and greeted the new-comers with a bow, motioning varden to the vacant seat and indicating that fenton should place himself in a chair at some little distance from the table. no words of introduction were spoken, but the members of the conference acknowledged varden's addition to their ranks with formal bows. fenton felt the cold, judicial gaze of sir john chester fixed upon him for a moment, and was also aware that the other men in the room subjected him to a more or less close scrutiny. then the discussion proceeded in french. "as you are aware, you, as representatives of the allied nations, are in serajoz at my personal invitation," prince peter said. "ironia has held back from entering the war because of our inability to gain unanimous support for any one policy. in arranging for this conference i was hopeful that it would result in uniting the factions, in convincing our people that the interests of ironia are identical with the allied cause. unfortunately i was unable to gain the consent of his majesty to a formal meeting of the advisory council to discuss the war situation with you. i took it upon myself to meet you thus secretly with such members of the king's advisors as i knew to be of our way of thinking, as it was apparent to me that, before we could take any positive steps looking to ironia's entry into the war, it was necessary that we have a definite understanding. we must know exactly where we stand before we take any determined steps to convince his majesty that ironia must join forces with the nations you represent. this explains the conditions of secrecy under which it has been necessary to hold this meeting. your presence in serajoz, gentlemen, is a secret shared only by those at present in this house. i have made arrangements for your safe departure. it is my earnest belief that within a week it will be possible to welcome you back in your official capacities to sign a treaty on behalf of your respective governments, linking ironia to the allied cause. "now as to the terms under which we could enter this war," he went on. "i believe we have reached unanimous agreement on all points. britain would guarantee to finance us. mulkovina and serania would be restored to us in the event of victory. we, for our part, would be expected to place an army of half a million men in the field, fully equipped, and to maintain this force for the duration of the war. we have your assurance also that our loss in the export of petroleum to germany would be fully met by the taking up of our total output by the allied nations. so far all is quite satisfactory from the standpoint of ironia. "i cannot let this conference dissolve, however, without setting forth in the clearest light possible the position in which our country stands. i do not want you to carry away the impression that this is a business proposition on our part, that we have waited until we could drive a hard bargain and enter the war with the surety of gain. let me tell you that ironia has suffered long at the spectacle of her sons and daughters ground down under the foreign yoke in the lost provinces. the only thing that has kept us from attempting to force justice by arms has been the knowledge that we would have absolutely no chance single-handed against the colossal might of austria. if we enter the war now it will be not for considerations of national profit, but to free our brothers in mulkovina and serania from the hated yoke. other considerations that have entered into this discussion have been necessary in view of our impoverished position as a nation." in the pause that followed, varden, seated at prince peter's left hand, whispered in his ear. the prince lent earnest attention and apparently considered the news that the englishman brought of the gravest import. "mr varden has brought to my attention a matter that must be considered before we disperse," said the ironian leader. "the arrangement we have reached to-night depends upon my ability to secure action on the part of ironia. it was tentative in that respect; you have pledged the honour of the nations you represent, but in no other respect is the agreement binding." he paused as though reluctant to proceed. "we can give no written guarantee," said sir john, "as we are not dealing officially with the government of ironia as yet. i have, however, full authority to pledge the government of great britain to the arrangement decided upon." "if the honour of france is pledged by an accredited representative is any further guarantee necessary?" asked monsieur d'aubignè with an eloquent gesture. "i am not asking anything which cannot be given," said prince peter. "but i have just learned that events are shaping themselves on the russian frontier which may seriously affect the relations of our four nations. the russian forces are mobilising close to the mulkovinian frontier, and there are evidences that an immediate advance is contemplated." he wheeled around and faced the russian representative squarely. "perhaps count grobenski can tell us of his government's intentions. if the province is occupied by russian troops, without ironian assistance, will this agreement hold?" the russian diplomat returned his gaze steadily, but did not reply for a moment. the calm inscrutability of slav diplomacy was reflected in every line of his countenance. "your information is quite correct," he replied finally. "i did not mention the fact of our mobilisation at that point as it is not customary to publish advance information of military movements. is it necessary to impress on all present the advisability of keeping this information as strictly confidential?" he paused again before proceeding. when he resumed, it was with slowness and deliberation as though each word required careful choosing. "the plans of our general staff provide for an advance on our extreme left," he said. "if the movement is successful our armies will sweep across mulkovina and serania. i have no authority to pledge the restoration of these two provinces to ironia if their permanent occupation is accomplished before ironia joins us. the arrangement we have reached to-night is conditional, so far as russia is concerned, on ironia's entry before the movement i have mentioned begins." there was a strained silence in the room. monsieur d'aubignè made a motion as though to whisper to the russian, but thought better of it and subsided into his chair. sir john chester watched the two central figures in the discussion with silent concentration. "what length of time does that give me?" inquired prince peter at last. "ten days at the most," replied grobenski impassively. "the plans of our strategists must go forward without delay. the machinery of the russian army cannot be stopped while ironia hesitates. i am speaking plainly, your highness. the situation must be clearly understood between us." "prince peter has promised us that a decision will be reached one way or the other without delay," said sir john. "i take it, count grobenski, that you can give him a week? your pledge will hold good for that length?" "yes, my authority warrants me in going to that length," replied grobenski. "but permit me to impress this fact. in view of certain considerations--some of which have been discussed to-night and some of which have not--if ironia does not enter the war now, she might as well stay out!" the conference broke up. fenton saw prince peter leave the room conversing in low and manifestly earnest tones with sir john, while count grobenski and monsieur d'aubignè walked out together, the latter's hand on the russian's arm. the french statesman was expounding volubly. when fenton saw prince peter again it was in the ante-room. the representatives of the allies had gone. those left included varden and one of the other ironian representatives at the conference. varden then related the other side of the plot that had been overheard in the palace gardens. prince peter did not seem as disturbed as he had been at the information vouchsafed with reference to the russian advance. he seemed inclined to treat the matter lightly. "i do not fear them," he declared. "they would, no doubt, do me a mischief if they could. but i do not see why i should feel concern over the possibility of death from an ironian bullet when we are working for an opportunity to risk our lives on the battlefield." "but don't you see that ironia's future depends upon your safety," urged varden. "if they succeed in putting you out of the way, our chances of success will be infinitely small." "i shall take every precaution, of course," promised the prince. "you can depend upon me not to risk myself unnecessarily. and now we must devise some means of following more closely the efforts of our adversaries. it is quite clear that they will stop at nothing." chapter v an attempted assassination as they spoke, there came a knock, three taps in rapid succession, followed by two slowly. the officer on guard opened the door a few inches and peered out into the intense gloom of the landing. after a brief colloquy in whispers with the new arrival, he stepped back and threw open the door. came a woman, muffled up so securely in a cloak that nothing of her face and form was visible. she stepped into the area of flickering light provided by the dim gas jet and, loosing her cloak, threw back the hood. fenton's first impression was one of astonishment at her unusual beauty; his second an odd sense of recognition. she was small--_petite_ perhaps would give a more accurate impression--but somehow her smallness seemed an essentiality. although almost doll-like in sheer perfection of beauty, there was no suggestion of fragility about her. her hair was a shimmering mass of golden curls dressed with a carelessness that was art itself. bluest of blue eyes sparkled with animation; devastating eyes, no doubt, when their owner so wished, though now they glowed with serious purpose. the mouth was made for team play with the witching eyes, but it was firm too, very firm, as though she got whatever she wanted. "a determined little person," thought fenton as, standing back in the gloom, he studied her face. "a little person to be friends with; and, unless i am mistaken, a little person who would make a very staunch friend. but i'm not sure that i would want to stand in the way of the little person's plans." the new-comer was immediately drawn into an earnest conversation, conducted in low tones, with prince peter and varden. the two men showed the greatest deference in their attitude toward the girl--a deference which apparently had its roots in deeper soil than men's regard for a mere pretty face. when she spoke they listened attentively and seemed to attach weight to her opinions. fenton could not catch what they said so he contented himself with watching the girl, struggling meanwhile to fix that elusive sense of familiarity that became stronger in his mind every moment. where had he seen her before? then it came to him suddenly, a graceful gesture of the little person's arm supplying the necessary clue. in his mind's eye he saw a crowded assembly hall, a large stage rather dimly lighted and a little figure that suddenly appeared in the centre of it. he saw her rise on her toes, smile a wonderful smile that seemed to grip the hearts of the fashionable audience and then glide into such a dance as the nymphs must trip as the first faint shafts of dawn warn them that their nightly revels are over. anna petrowa! after a few minutes the prince stepped back into the room where the conference had been held and varden turned toward his friend. "come here, fenton," he said. "mam'selle, permit me to present our latest acquisition, mr fenton from canada. fenton, this is mam'selle anna petrowa." fenton bowed, and the little person, for as such fenton had unconsciously pigeon-holed her in his mind, smiled. the smile brought back more vivid recollections of her triumph of that evening when he had watched her interpret divine music with her flying feet. "i saw mademoiselle petrowa on her tour in our country," said fenton. "that was three years ago and it need hardly be added that i recognised her." the dancer looked up at him and smiled again. she had relaxed from the serious attitude maintained during her conversation with peter and varden, and did not seem at all adverse to the prospect of winning admiration from this big stranger. "i like your can--ada," she said, speaking english with musical limitations. "some day i go back. then perhaps i meet mistaire fenton again?" "i trust our next meeting won't be so long deferred as that," said fenton heartily. "i'm expecting to stay here in ironia for some time--or until the little matter in hand is settled. i've enlisted myself as general assistant to varden." "and he's plunged right into the thickest of it already," put in varden. "he hasn't been in ironia twenty-four hours yet and he's already stumbled in on a secret meeting of the society of crossed swords, dodged half a dozen bullets, insulted miridoff to his face and made love to--some of our fairest ladies." "i believe anything of mistaire fenton," said mademoiselle petrowa, "and especially that which you say last. but have care, mistaire fenton, these belles of ironia--perhaps they aim their deadly glances more true than the men can shoot." their laughter at this sally was interrupted by the return of the officer, who had been summoned previously to the inner room. "his highness would speak with mademoiselle petrowa," he announced. when the door had closed leaving them alone together, fenton turned eagerly to varden. "you promised me plenty of excitement if i stayed here," he said, "but this is certainly exceeding expectations. anna petrowa, _première danseuse_, engaged in an exciting intrigue in ironia and turning up at a most ungodly hour of the morning in the dark ante-room of a mysterious house! what else have you got up your sleeve, anyway?" "let me tell you about the real anna petrowa," said varden. "it will probably surprise you to know that she has been a russian secret service agent for many years. she was born in moscow, of very poor parents. they died while she was young, and i guess she had a pretty trying start in life, taking things all round. she was drafted into the imperial ballet finally and soon made her mark as a dancer. at fourteen she had won recognition as a coming star. at nineteen all europe was at her feet. she was a little over twenty when we saw her in toronto, and at that time she had already been enlisted into the ranks of those who follow the most thrilling and dangerous game in the world--secret service." "twenty-four hours ago i wouldn't have believed all this," asserted fenton, "but now anything seems possible. but look here, how in thunder does she happen to be in serajoz?" "she was dancing in vienna when the war broke out," explained varden. "it was not safe for her to remain there, so on instructions from petrograd she came to ironia to assist in watching russian interests here. she naturally gravitated into close touch with our camp and we have found her our most valuable and active assistant." "but what part can a pretty woman play in this rough-and-tumble business?" asked fenton. "well, you see mademoiselle anna has made the acquaintance of one lieutenant neviloff, who is right-hand man to miridoff. neviloff has fallen head-over-heels in love with our bewitching anna, and--well, she can simply twist him around her little finger. so you see we have a most excellent method of getting inside information from the opposite camp." fenton whistled softly. "she's playing a pretty dangerous part, is our famous mademoiselle little person," he said. "if they got on to the fact that she's working with us, i suppose it would go hard with her." "the lord have mercy on her if miridoff ever suspects what she's doing!" said varden gravely. "from now on she's going to be doubly valuable to us. you see, it's going to be necessary to watch them closely to forestall any attempts on the life of the prince. and we'll have to depend on anna petrowa for that. i don't know which of them is likely to stand in the most danger from now on, prince peter or our little dancer." at this point the rest of the party returned from the inner room and an immediate move toward the street was made. "there are two cars waiting in the next street for us," whispered varden, as they cautiously descended the creaky stairs. "i am to accompany the prince home--sort of bodyguard, you know. will you perform like service for mademoiselle petrowa?" they stepped out into the street to find that the darkness of night had given place to the light of early dawn. it was decidedly chilly. fenton wrapped himself snugly in his cloak and dropped back beside the diminutive, muffled figure of the dancer. at that instant a startled shout from ahead broke the stillness. fenton saw a figure suddenly loom up out of the darkness with arm upraised. something flashed bright in the hand of the unknown assailant as he hurled himself directly at prince peter. fenton could see that the man with gleaming dagger raised to strike the blow that would throw the control of ironian destinies into the hands of the king's party was not alone. another ruffian had emerged from the shadows of a deep court and was struggling with varden. he could see that the prince, taken off his guard, had recoiled a step and was endeavouring to draw his sword, around which his cloak had become wrapped in a sudden flurry of the wind. all this the canadian took in during the fraction of a second following the warning shout from in front. instantly he stripped off his cloak and plunged ahead, throwing a word of warning back over his shoulder to his companion. fenton had been a star half-back in his college days. he covered the intervening space in faster time than he had ever done when the touch-line was ahead and the opposing wing men thundered after. the sound of his flying feet caused the assailant to pause and glance in that direction, which probably saved the prince's life, for before the dagger could descend fenton's fist had found the fellow's jaw with a glancing blow. the blow was partly spent when it landed, but it had enough force left behind it to spin the assassin around to one side. the next moment fenton's left hand shot forward and gripped the dagger arm. the assassin was a wiry fellow, built on the lines most commonly seen in the near east. he had short, bowed legs, powerful shoulders, arms of almost gorilla-like length. his large, hairy hands had an almost simian strength, as fenton found in the struggle that ensued. the fellow fought with the fury of a wild beast, writhing and snarling and struggling to reach fenton's throat with his free hand. it was all fenton could do to ward off that powerful paw which would choke the life out of him once it had found its grip. at the same time, it required all the strength he could summon to hold back his opponent's right hand, which still grasped the dagger. they swayed back and forth, each straining for an advantage. it was a long time before the assassin relaxed his strenuous efforts for a winning hold. finally, however, fenton's chance came. his opponent stopped for a moment for breath, and his left hand dropped. instantly fenton stepped back and planted a short-arm upper cut in the general direction of his face. it landed fairly on the point of the chin. the ruffian crumpled up at the knees and dropped back on the ground with a thud. the knife, slipping from his fingers, clattered on the pavement at fenton's feet. the latter paused a moment for breath, then groped carefully for the knife in the dark. his hand had closed on the handle when varden called to him. "i've managed the other one," he said. "let's make a clean get-away while we've got the chance. discretion is the better part of valour, particularly when you've fixed up the lesser part of it." glancing around, fenton was rather astonished to find that, with the exception of the recumbent figures of the two would-be assassins, they had the street to themselves. the prince and anna petrowa had disappeared. before he had a chance to express his surprise at this circumstance, varden linked arms with him, and led the way at a brisk pace from the scene of the encounter. turning the first corner, they espied a motor-car, the huddled figure of its driver silhouetted against the sombre, grey-black sky. varden spoke one sharp word in ironian, and opened the door. they slipped into the seats, and the car glided noiselessly away. "well," said fenton when they had settled back comfortably, "where did the others go?" "the prince's safety was, of course, the first consideration," explained varden. "then, of course, he couldn't risk being seen had anyone been attracted by the noise. if it were known that prince peter had been mixed up in an affair of this kind, awkward questions would be asked. accordingly he waited until he saw that we were able to handle the pair, and then he quietly got away, taking anna with him. it was extremely important that she should not be seen. by this time they've got safely to the other side of the town." chapter vi the king's command the princess olga rose late the next morning. it is a popular myth that persons of royal blood live an entirely different kind of life from the rest of humanity. the universal conception of the life of royalty does not go much beyond gilded carriages, stately balls and glittering banquets. that a princess is liable to relax, to quarrel, to pout, to wheedle, to preen before mirrors, to enjoy the stray bits of gossip that a confidential maid may retail, to read forbidden novels on the sly, in fact to behave the same as any girl of the same age, is a view-point that few have really accepted. there may have been princesses who lived the prim, stately kind of life that is popularly ascribed to them, and did not allow themselves to be affected by the emotions and weaknesses of common folk, but certainly olga was not numbered among them. olga was a princess on the fairly numerous occasions when appearances in state were necessary, but the rest of the time she was just a wholesome, vivacious girl--a girl who liked to ride and play tennis, to wear french clothes and read english novels and to bully everyone in the establishment, from her father down. she was certainly the most unconventional of princesses. it was well after eleven when a ray of sunshine, finding its way through the heavy damask curtains, had the temerity to seek out the spot where olga's head nestled snugly in the pillows. her eyes fluttered and opened. she sat up a little grudgingly, shook back her tangled curls, and rubbed firm knuckles into unwilling eyes--just a pretty, sleepy-headed girl after all. anyone who knows anything about royal households knows that the first act of the day is to ring a bell which summons a retinue of maids. this is an established rule--of the novelists. but olga did nothing of the kind. in the first place, there was no electric bell to ring, for prince peter's establishment, while very large and picturesque, was not fitted up with all the latest improvements; and in the second place, she would not have rung the bell had there been one. instead, she slipped out of bed into a pair of warm, woolly slippers, ranged methodically on the floor with a precision that bespoke long practice. then she went to the window and drew back the curtain a cautious inch or two, while she inspected the look of things outside. satisfied on that score, she proceeded unaided with her toilet, and it was not until the really formidable problem of restoring her unruly curls to order presented itself, that a maid was summoned. as the maid worked, she talked. perhaps it was because she had found it necessary to talk in order to distract her royal mistress's attention from the tugs and pulls that invariably accompanied the difficult task of hair-dressing. perhaps it was because all maids talk. the maid is generic and the ironian type has as confirmed a failing for chatter as her sister in england or america or thibet--if such an institution as the handmaid exists in the latter place. what is more, maids talk to princesses as well as to the daughters of brewers and tradesman and manufacturers. the reason why so seemingly trivial a matter is mentioned here is that the chatter of marie on this particular morning had a most far-reaching effect. if it had not so happened that marie, who was part french and proud of it, had that morning talked to one of the coachmen in the household who had just returned from an errand to the residence on the lodz occupied by varden, where he had conversed with paula, maid-in-waiting to the baroness draschol; and again if paula had not overheard certain remarks between varden and his wife, which she confided to the coachman, who in turn passed the news on to marie; if, we repeat, any link in this chain of communication had failed, the whole future of the picturesque and warlike kingdom of ironia might have been changed; certainly the future of one, donald fenton, might have been very materially altered. but all the "ifs" duly materialised, the highly interesting piece of news was handed along with the astonishing celerity with which such news travel in the under strata of society, and in due course marie bustled into her mistress's room with the information fairly tingling the sharp end of her pert tongue. it was as though in working out a particularly intricate play, the master chess player had shoved a pawn to its appointed square. it may be added that the information thus freely bandied among the servants of the two households was safe in their keeping. the ironian in the kitchen will chatter to his fellow of what happens in the saloon above, but will suffer his tongue to be cut out before he gives anything away to the outside world. the story that marie had thus picked up was a more or less complete outline of the attempt made to assassinate prince peter early that morning and the part fenton and varden had played in it. with a skill that showed the buxom maid to be a diplomat of no mean order, she let a hint or two drop. the princess, her interest aroused, sharply questioned the adroit marie and in due course got to the bottom of the maid's store of information. it may have been that, animated with the desire of your true raconteur to give the auditor the best entertainment, marie elaborated a little on the original facts, deepening the sanguinary nature of the conflict, multiplying the number of the assailants and thereby gilding in the most vivid colours the valour of the heroic varden and the strange "amereecan," whose name she had forgotten but in whom olga readily recognised the impulsive fenton. it having been demonstrated to her satisfaction early in the recital that her father had not been injured--marie had seen him with her own eyes several times that morning--the princess permitted her chief interest to centre on two points, viz., the handsome stranger and the identity of the woman who had been in the party. on this last point marie, much to her sorrow, had to acknowledge a complete lack of authoritative information. during her breakfast, which was served in a cosy boudoir overlooking the gardens, the princess was very thoughtful, and at the same time restless. she toyed with the food and surprised the attendants into a bustling efficiency of service by her petulance. she had intended to ride, but changed her mind when the word came that her favourite mount was ready. instead, she wandered into her sitting-room and ensconced herself in a sunny window with a book and her thoughts for company. they fought it out for supremacy, but it did not take long for the book to drop into second place. it was only after staring steadily at one page for ten minutes that she became aware of the fact that she was holding the volume upside down. when she realised this, she allowed it to slip off her lap to the floor and, tucking her feet up under her on the couch, gave herself over to unrestrained introspection. the story gleaned from the voluble marie had given an added impetus to a natural tendency to revert to the events of the preceding evening. the attempt on the life of her father confirmed the story that fenton had told her and brought conviction home on the score of the duplicity of miridoff. she felt convinced now that the canadian's version of the plot had been the truth in every respect. thus she felt that she had done him an injustice--and the thought was a peculiarly disturbing one. a still more disturbing aspect was the matter of the future, now that she could estimate the real character of the man who might be selected as her husband. if the influence of miridoff remained in the ascendant, she knew that nothing would dissuade the king from his determination to bring about the match. alliances of an almost equally infamous character had been quite common incidents in the chequered history of the balkan kingdoms. had anyone been privileged to watch olga as her mind grappled with this almost terrifying phase of the situation, it would have been seen that lines denoting determination crept into her face--evidence of a newly formed intention not meekly to accept the fate so cruelly and callously marked out for her. there is a resiliency about the mind of the young that permits of rapid transitions of mood. the thoughts of olga soon strayed from the grim possibilities suggested by the danger to her father and the machinations, both political and matrimonial, of miridoff, into more pleasing channels. from every fresh topic that suggested itself, her mind went back promptly and inevitably to thoughts of fenton, until finally she gave up all pretence and permitted her fancy to dwell with frank intentness on this interesting stranger. she admitted, to herself, the fascination she had found in him, and on analysis decided that it lay in the fact that he was absolutely different from any man she had ever met before. the type she knew, the ironian of the upper class, was of short stature and almost oriental swarthiness--suave, plausible, a diplomatic trickster, avaricious and limited in view-point to the traditions of his little country. fenton had affected her much as a cool, bracing wind appeals to the jaded traveller on the desert where nothing has been encountered but fetid, almost poisonous air. and then fenton had dared to talk to her without any of the restrictions, the insincerities or euphemisms of courtly conversation. she went over again his daring hypothesis. supposing she ever found the opportunity to face the realities of life, not as the princess but as olga--the woman--what then? could it be that what he had hinted at would actually come to pass? her chin found a resting-place on her arms. her eyes were fixed with earnest intentness on the garden beneath, but they were filled with sights much less material. she saw beyond the court, beyond ironia, a life full of all that could make life worth while--liberty, sincerity, love. she glimpsed many golden scenes from a possible future in which courts and crowns and royal pomp had no place, and from which miridoff and her other ironian suitors were strangely missing. the gorgeously caparisoned footman, entrusted with a message for her, had to speak three times before she came back from the golden kingdom of youth's dreamland. "his grace, the grand duke miridoff," announced the footman, bowing obsequiously in exit. miridoff crossed the room toward her with military precision and dignity. he was a rather striking figure of a man, straight and but slightly inclined to portliness. although in the early forties, his heavy beard gave him the appearance of being somewhat older. the grand duke's teutonic derivation was most strikingly shown in the lines of his face. his eyes were clear, direct, domineering. altogether he looked exactly what he was--a bold intriguer, thoroughly daring and unscrupulous and efficient to a degree. the princess rose to meet him, extending a hand on which the grand duke imprinted a kiss rather more fervid than court etiquette required. it was noteworthy that, during the interview which ensued, both remained standing. both realised that a crisis had been reached between them. "your highness, i am pleased to see that you are well and not unduly fatigued after the ball," he said. then, after a moment's pause: "i am assured your highness is well aware that i would not have taken the liberty of so early a call had i not desired to discuss a matter of the utmost importance with you. have i your permission to proceed at once with the object of my visit?" the princess bowed in assent. her companion deferentially took her arm and led her over to a window--the very window through which she had gazed a few minutes before, while thrilling but impossible day-dreams crowded her mental horizon. olga again fixed her gaze on the garden beneath; but this time her visions were of a different nature. she saw a future that was sombre, dull and drab, in which happiness was sacrificed to stern, forbidding duty and in which one figure--domineering and repugnant--stood out. "there is a matter which has never been discussed between us," he said, vainly endeavouring to bring her to look at him, "although we both have understood it--the king's plans concerning us. i have just left his majesty and i come to you on his suggestion--nay, on his command. his majesty has seen fit to select me as your future husband. it was my desire that i be permitted to speak to you first. his majesty enjoined a speedy effort on my part to reach an understanding with you." still olga did not look up. her day-dreams had fallen in ruins about her. her fate, in the form of miridoff, had overtaken her, and was demanding recognition. a half resolution slowly formed in her mind. "the position," went on the grand duke, "is a difficult one. i know that i can discuss it quite frankly with you. his highness, your father, is unfortunately opposed to me at the present time on matters of state policy, but the arrangement that our all-discerning king has honoured me by making is one that will outlast all political differences. may i plead that the divisions now existing be not allowed to influence your regard for me nor to stand in the way of my great good fortune?" olga turned her face toward him for the first time and regarded him seriously and intently. still she did not speak. "it was in consideration of a possible prejudice that may have crept into your mind against the party i represent and which may have even extended to me personally that i begged the privilege from his majesty of addressing you before his august wishes had been communicated to you," pursued miridoff. "i feared that false impressions might have taken lodgment in your mind which i felt confident i could dismiss. and"--he leaned closer toward the girl--"i feared the affect of malicious gossip which i knew would surely reach your ears." "no gossip can influence the opinion i have formed of your grace," said the girl steadily. there was a note of quiet finality in her voice that would have been discernible to anyone with a less decided ego; but miridoff either failed to notice it or did not pause to determine the correct interpretation. he went on confidently: "the wishes of his majesty are, of course, not to be gainsaid. i was too sure of your loyalty to entertain any doubts on the score of your consent, but i wanted to just lay before you testimony to my sincere devotion." he concluded with a low bow. the self-assurance was so openly reflected in his attitude and in every word he uttered that the half-formed resolution in her mind became crystallised on the moment into a fixed determination. "i trust that my loyalty to his majesty will never be called into question," she said quietly, "but i cannot give my consent to what he has willed in this matter." a flush of anger swept across his face. his cool assurance left him and a tendency to bluster became apparent. "do i understand," he demanded, his voice hard and rasping, "that you intend to disregard the express command of his majesty?" "i will not--i cannot marry you," said olga. "i must ask that you accept this answer as final. if you entertain for me the devotion that you say, show it by using your influence with the king. urge him to withdraw his decision." "may i ask," said miridoff coldly, "the cause for this inexplicable repudiation of the king's wishes? why can you not become my wife?" olga faced him squarely. her eyes flashed, her voice rang clear and high. "a daughter's devotion comes before a subject's obedience!" she declared. "i refuse to marry the man who has plotted against my father's life! i believe in speaking my mind openly, your grace," she went on hurriedly. "if i could but bring proofs to his majesty of what you are doing----" this outburst did not entirely surprise miridoff. he had fully expected that some word of what was going on beneath the surface of things would reach her. it was largely with a view of getting matters settled before further proofs of his duplicity could come out that he had gone to king alexander early that morning and urged a settlement. miridoff was not above wooing the girl at the same time he planned to encompass her father's death. he was, therefore, not entirely unprepared, and met the situation coolly. "a most extraordinary charge you bring against me," he said with well simulated surprise and an elaborate show of sarcasm. "may i ask on what it is based?" "why maintain this pretence?" asked the girl, regarding him steadily. "it is part of your creed to stop at no obstacle that lies in the way of the fulfilment of your plans. my father stands in your way and we both understand, your grace, that you will not hesitate to sweep him aside if the opportunity comes. perhaps i should not blame you so much as the system you represent. you stand for the principles that have been uppermost throughout the whole history of our unfortunate country! you have so little sense of right and wrong that you are surprised when the daughter of the man you are doing your best to destroy refuses to accept the hastily considered dictum of her king to marry you." the princess had stepped away from him. miridoff regarded her with a sudden passion that was remarkable in one of his deliberate purpose. she was indeed beautiful to look upon, more beautiful than ever now with her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing their message of contempt. he watched her almost hungrily from beneath his dark brows. a strong approbation of her had always possessed him. in a sort of superior way he had admired her, and had pressed his claims persistently before king alexander. but now her opposition fanned in him a deeper flame. it suddenly came to him that henceforth every consideration other than the winning of this woman for himself would be of minor importance. a ruthless determination to overcome her took possession of him. but his craft did not desert him even in the face of this all-powerful emotion. "i know the source from which this charge emanates," he said with a sneer, "and i am surprised that you take the word of an adventurer. however, i do not now endeavour to refute the charge, as events are shaping themselves which will eventually demonstrate how little truth there is in the story." he was attempting to draw her out. a slight wave of colour that swept her pale face momentarily betrayed the interest that the princess felt in his veiled allusion to fenton. a question almost escaped her, but she quickly checked the impulse to seek further explanation. "there is an agent of the british secret service in serajoz," went on miridoff deliberately. "his name is fenton. his errand is to do as much damage as he can to the german cause. his methods are typical of the perfidious nation whose dirty work he does. he has been in serajoz but one day, and has already started his campaign of insidious lies. i have his record: a spy of the lowest order who once offered to sell secrets of the british foreign office to the germans, and who is suspected even by the unscrupulous men who employ him. i feel it is my duty to warn you----" "it is false!" the words escaped her in a sudden gust of anger at miridoff's uncompromising charge. next moment she was sorry she had permitted herself to be thus tricked into an avowal of interest in the canadian. but her consternation was no greater than that felt by miridoff. in her hasty exclamation and the championing flush of her face, the leader of the society of crossed swords had discerned something that he had not previously suspected. "she is actually interested in the fellow," he said to himself. miridoff had recognised fenton's power to do him harm, but had never thought of him as a possible rival. "olga!" the word, tense with feeling, escaped from him. it was the first time he had addressed her other than in terms of correct intercourse. olga recognised something of the turmoil that was raging within him from the tone of his voice and glanced up. unerring female instinct laid his secret before her: miridoff was really in love with her! "olga," repeated the grand duke, "i never before realised what the fulfilment of the king's wish means to me. i want you for my wife." the princess became cool again in the face of this sudden declaration. "my mind is fully made up," she said. "i am sure his majesty will not adhere to his decision in view of my unalterable opposition. and so, your grace, i must ask that the subject be considered closed between us." "you force me to extremes!" exclaimed miridoff, roused to angry bluster again by her steady opposition. "let me tell you this: the king's mind is made up. there are important reasons for the match. he will not permit the whims of a girl to interfere with plans upon which the welfare of the state depends." "perhaps," cried the girl warmly, "when king alexander learns the truth about his servant, the grand duke miridoff, he will realise that the welfare of the state demands the removal of that servant to some place where he will no longer be dangerous!" miridoff recognised that further efforts at persuasion would be useless. he turned to leave the room, but paused again for a moment. "i have presented the case to you in but one light," he declared. "it was my desire that you obey the king's command willingly. but now let me tell you that nothing can stand in the way of your becoming my wife. his majesty is determined. i am prepared to take an unwilling bride--and no power on earth can stand between us!" chapter vii general lebrun worn out from the excitement of the night, fenton slept well through the forenoon. when he finally wakened it was to a realisation of stiffened muscles and a general feeling as though he had been drawn through a threshing machine. he seemed one mass of bruises. a warm bath effected a partial revival, and then slowly and laboriously he found his way into his clothes, paying tribute with every move to the prowess of his unknown antagonist of the previous night's mêlée. he found his host most impatiently pacing the library. varden had not been down long himself but, to judge from his attitude, he had already come into possession of important news. "just in time, fenton," said varden briefly. "in ten minutes i'd have gone without you." "where?" asked the canadian. his tone seemed to evidence a certain lack of interest, due possibly to his breakfastless condition. "to the station," replied varden. "i just got wind of an interesting piece of news. general jules lebrun, the hero of the french army, is passing through serajoz to-day on his way to russia to consult with the general staff of the tsar. he has a stopover of a few hours, and his entertainment has been entrusted to me. as you probably surmise," went on varden, lowering his voice to a discreet pitch, "the time that the general spends with me will not be entirely given over to social amenities. he has certain papers bearing on a suggested plan of campaign in case of--certain eventualities--which are to be handed to me. we may get an opportunity to discuss various phases of the plan. you understand, of course, the reason why this work is in my hands. it would not be politic for a member of the ironian general staff to be seen with the french general. i will serve as a go-between." fenton had spent the greater part of the time following the outbreak of the war in the south of russia, so that such news of the progress of the campaign as reached him had been decidedly meagre. nevertheless he had heard much of the spectacular work of the great little victorious french general, and varden's news kindled in him a keen desire to see the famous fighter whose dashing tactics had done so much to win the battle of the marne. and then an idea occurred to him. "varden," he said, "has it occurred to you that the general's visit can be turned to great purpose in deciding the wobbling policy of ironia?" "in what way?" asked the other. fenton shook his head sadly. "as a newspaper man you always fell down hard when it came to grasping the dramatic possibilities of a story. as a diplomat it seems you are just the same. percy, don't you realise the advertising value of lebrun's visit to serajoz? he has come right at the psychological moment to produce the proper dramatic effect. "the ironian people are latin and so claim kinship with the french," he went on. "the influence of france is shown in every phase of ironian life. the factor in deciding the sympathies of ironia, next in importance to the question of the two lost provinces, is the love and admiration that the people here have for everything that pertains to france. now then, lebrun's exploits have been told and retold from one end of ironia to the other. just let it become generally known that he's in serajoz, and you'll stir up a demonstration that will open the eyes of your stubborn king! i tell you, percy, it's a heaven-sent opportunity. the hoarse roar of a thoroughly enthused mob will accomplish more than the carefully considered whisperings of all the diplomats in the country." "but," protested varden, "i must have an opportunity to talk with him. a popular demonstration is not just the best background for a discussion on tactics." "have your talk first," said fenton confidently. "then take our trump card out in an open fiacre and drive him slowly down the lodz. be sure that the good news is circulated well in advance. i tell you what--let me stage-manage this affair. i was always rather strong on the dramatic possibilities." they talked the plan over in whispers, while fenton bolted a ten-minute breakfast. varden then hurried away to keep his appointment, and the canadian began the busy task of arranging the "props" for the brilliant demonstration he had planned out. no inhabitant of serajoz will ever forget that day. the news that general lebrun was in the city spread like wild-fire. his name was on every lip within an hour. thousands of excited and enthusiastic ironians rushed to the station only to learn that the little general had duly arrived and been promptly whisked away. crowds gathered in the streets. ironian and french flags were displayed on all sides, impromptu processions were organised, songs were vociferously chorused by the ardent townspeople, the "marseillaise" being heard as often as the ironian national anthem. later, when percival varden drove out into the lodz in an open fiacre with a little white-haired, powerful man beside him, the stage was all set for a demonstration, the like of which serajoz had not seen since the memorable day when alexander sobiesku, first king of ironia, was crowned. the fiacre drove slowly up the lodz between solid banks of agitated humanity. "lebrun," "france," "war," were the words that one heard rising from out of the babel of sound. excited men climbed on the steps of the carriage to grasp the hand of the gallant little frenchman. swords appeared above the heads of the mob, and the clamour for war became insistent and belligerent. the demonstration reached its height when the carriage rolled into the square of triumph, where a huge bronze statue of sobiesku, the national hero of ironia who had defeated the turks in the war of liberation, reared itself proudly above plashing fountains and luxuriant foliage. here, immediately beneath the figure of the grim old warrior, they encountered another carriage containing prince peter. the king's brother rose and warmly grasped the hand of the grizzled french general. for several seconds they stood thus, while the crowds thundered their appreciation of the tableau. standing back in the dense throng, fenton witnessed the scene with double appreciation, for he had himself suggested, and, in fact, arranged the setting. "pretty effective," he said to himself. "if this doesn't shake the country off the fence i am out in my calculations." he felt a pressure on his arm as though someone had gently tugged his sleeve. next moment a slip of paper was pressed into his hand. fenton turned as quickly as his crowded surroundings permitted but could discern nothing in the swarthy faces of those nearest him to indicate who had been responsible. elbowing his way out of the crush, fenton made his way to a deserted corner of the street and eagerly inspected the note. it was written in french in a feminine hand and contained neither address nor signature, merely the words: "dine at eight to-night at the continental. important." chapter viii the quarrel the continental hotel at serajoz is known to all travellers by reputation at least. it ranks with shepherd's hotel at cairo, the eis arena in berlin, giro's at monte carlo. at the continental one meets diplomats, statesmen, secret service agents from all countries. many an extra tangle in the near-east question has been tied at quiet, informal parties on the terrace of the continental. the second balkan war, when the rest of the confederacy joined arms against bulgaria, was planned one evening around a marble-topped table in a secluded corner of the terrace. here revolutions have been plotted, dynasties have been overturned, assassinations have been coolly debated. to the average traveller the continental is not in any degree different from other hotels of the same order except that it is perhaps a little larger, a little noisier and a little more tawdry in its appointments. but ask an official of any of the foreign offices of europe. you will get a polite and blandly evasive reply at first, of course, for that is the way of foreign offices; but get into the confidence of some official and he will tell you stories that make the wildest of fiction seem colourless and banal. fenton took his seat at a corner table on the terrace. he had confided his mission to varden, who had earnestly recommended him to disregard the mysterious summons. varden was convinced that the invitation was part of some plot, and quite as positive that miridoff was behind it. there was too strong a tinge of romance to the whole incident, however, for fenton to accept this prudent advice. the mystery drew him like a magnet, and accordingly the appointed hour found him at his corner table, watching the crowds that surrounded him with interest, while he puffed innumerable cigarettes. the thronged terrace presented a cosmopolitan air that was fascinating to the canadian. there were all sorts and conditions of men and women. here a prince, scion of a ruling house; there a parvenu millionaire, every line of him and every move shouting his newly acquired wealth to the world. a party of american tourists, scintillating spots of fire from the jewels of their womenfolk, occupied one table. a thief of international fame lounged through, eyeing the company insolently. a fluffy mondaine on the arm of an officer laughed and chatted as she passed. members of the highest nobility rubbed elbows with gamblers of the most doubtful antecedents. beauty and vice sat side by side. fenton took it all in, but at no time did the thought that had obsessed his mind for the past twenty-four hours leave him. fenton was in love. he had no doubts on thai score himself. most men have many love affairs and are deceived often, but when the _grande passion_ comes they know. fenton knew. not for one waking minute since he had first seen olga had he forgotten her. this had lasted a day by ordinary computation of time, an age according to the calendar of cupid. she was at once the most wonderful, the most beautiful and the most inaccessible woman in the world. the canadian's reason told him that he could never hope to win her, but his heart whispered to him to go in and win. of one thing he was certain, that he would never leave ironia while any possible hope of winning her remained. the hope was strong in fenton that the mysterious message was in some way connected with the object of his adoration. his eye had but one object in scanning the brilliant crowd with eager interest--to see if by any chance she were in the company. the soft swish of a woman's gown warned him of a close approach to his table. before he could turn a voice spoke almost in his ear, a very pleasant voice too: "good evening, mistaire fenton. it is most fortunate that you dine alone. i have something to say to you of the most importance." fenton sprang to his feet. it was mademoiselle petrowa. "this is most unexpected good fortune," he said. then he glanced around hurriedly. "but is it not indiscreet? is it safe for you to make it known that we--er--know each other?" "quite," and her silvery laugh broke in ripples. "come, do not look so--so tragic, is it not? sit down and invite me to be of your company. i will then explain." they seated themselves, fenton still very dubious, she with demure grace. for a moment neither spoke. the little dancer regarded her companion with an intentness, behind which seemed to lurk an almost roguish interest. "it is this way," she said finally. "i am playing what you call the double game. i find for your friends all that i can, but they--the other side--think that i work for them. it is needed that i so do, else i cannot be of use to the great cause, monsieur fenton. i tell to them some things that are so and many things that are not. the duke miridoff has entrusted to me many missions, and this morning he comes to me." she paused and requisitioned a cigarette, lighting it daintily and deliberately. "this is what i am to do," she said. "i am to watch one, mistaire fenton, most closely, to win his confidence, and if possible--but of course it is not so--to make him make love to me. is the work my good miridoff sets likely to be of the most difficult, mon ami?" had fenton known of the scene between the grand duke and olga of that morning he would perhaps have been able to understand the motive that had prompted the former thus to set a watch on his movements. had he known the furious thoughts that surged in miridoff's brain as he left the palace after the interview he would have understood why the little dancer had been deputed to win attention from him; and, knowing this, he would have been in a position to anticipate what followed. but as it was fenton could make nothing out of it, and so stared across the table at his merry companion with palpable amazement. "you mean that miridoff has instructed you to follow me and to work up a flirtation between us?" he demanded. "what object can he have in that?" "is the--what you call it?--prospect--so dismal then that you must look so?" laughed his companion. "as for me, i am most frank, monsieur. i have had missions more disagreeable. but come, it cannot hurt you to help me play well my part. smile, _mon ami_, look pleasant. the gentle miridoff will have those here who report how anna petrowa does her work. see, i take one of these roses and put it in your buttonhole." plucking a bloom from the bouquet on the table she leaned across the table and deftly fixed it in his coat. for a moment their heads were close together. a stray tendril touched his face. she whispered in french: "_monsieur, i have news--big news. listen closely----_" there was a sudden interruption. a young man in the uniform of the royal guards of ironia rose from a nearby table and stalked towards them. the dancer caught her breath in a way that almost suggested fright, and subsided into her chair. the officer frowned at her angrily, ignoring fenton entirely. "anna," he exclaimed in ironian, "come with me at once. i insist!" "by what right, lieutenant neviloff?" demanded the girl. "come at once," repeated neviloff in a hectoring tone. "i must not be trifled with. you are trying my patience." the canadian had not understood a word of the conversation, but he rightly judged the nature of it from the attitude of the others. "what is it all about?" he demanded. "shall i send him politely about his business or just drop him over the balcony?" "allow me to present lieutenant neviloff, monsieur fenton," said the girl, anxious to avoid a scene. fenton rose, and the two men faced each other steadily. the officer ignored the introduction, glaring at the canadian in the most offensive way. "mademoiselle petrowa accompanies me," he declared in broken french. "i warn you, fellow, to be more careful in future. anna, come at once!" "not so fast!" exclaimed fenton, his choler rising. "i don't like your way of doing things, monsieur lieutenant. mademoiselle petrowa stays where she is!" neviloff turned a furious red and took a step closer to fenton with a threatening gesture. "you foreign pig!" he said through gritted teeth. "leave while you may with a whole skin. you try my patience much. i shall spit you with my sword if you remain longer in my sight!" fenton laughed--a short, ominous laugh. "you miserable little whipper-snapper!" he said, both fists clenched and itching for action. "if ever let myself go and lay hands on you---- get out yourself before my patience runs out!" "if you were of rank to be worth notice," retorted neviloff with angry contempt, "i would slap you with my glove in the face, and then to-morrow morning i would end your miserable life. but as it is----" a shrug of his shoulders and a gesture eloquent of his contempt followed. fenton suddenly lunged forward and seized the officer's arm with a grip that almost paralysed that member. half leading, half dragging, he propelled the unwilling lieutenant toward his own table. arriving there, fenton forced neviloff down on his chair so hard that it went over backward, taking him with it. "there," said fenton. "now behave!" neviloff scrambled to his feet with more expedition than dignity. his face was crimson with wrath and humiliation. with a sudden fury he half drew his sword from its sheath. "it is too much!" his voice was high and shrill. "i kill you for this. this evening a friend of mine shall wait upon you. to-morrow i shall honour you, pig of a foreigner, by killing you, as i would a gentleman." "go as far as you like," said fenton nonchalantly, turning back. he walked back to his table to find it empty. the little person had gone. fenton paid his score and left. he idled about the lodz, which was brilliantly lighted at night, and on the duntzig, where the orchestras played, for an hour or so, enjoying himself fully. the incident on the terrace he had dismissed from his mind. he did not, as a matter of fact, expect ever to hear of it again, but when he reached home varden greeted him with a face of tragic concern. "look here, what have you been doing?" demanded the latter. "an officer of the guards has just been here with a formal challenge from neviloff. what in heaven's name have you done to offend him?" fenton laughed almost incredulously. "you must be joking," he said. "i haven't done anything. this neviloff fellow tried to take mademoiselle petrowa away from me over at the continental. he was most offensive about it. i stood as much as i could from him, and then i just led him back to his seat and made him behave." "is that all?" asked varden in mock surprise. "didn't you perform any little trivial politeness such as breaking a rib or two, or leave him a souvenir in the way of a couple of black eyes? damnation, fenton, they fight duels in this country on the strength of a side-glance of the eye, a shrug of the shoulder, an inflection----" "have i got to fight him then?" asked the canadian. "it looks like it," said varden gloomily. "either that or make a quick exit from the country." "which last is, of course, out of the question," said fenton positively. "still i'm in rather a fix. i won't put up much of a fight i'm afraid. do i have the choice of weapons?" "yes, as challenged party you can choose the method by which this neviloff will kill you." "i know as much about a harpoon as i do about a sword," said fenton reflectively. "i can shoot a little though. make it pistols." "say, don," protested varden tragically, "what is it all about anyway? how did you come to get into such a mess?" fenton told him the whole story, and at the conclusion varden swore vindictively. "it was all arranged," he declared. "miridoff is behind this. he instructed the girl to make up to you, and then had his handy man there to force you into a quarrel--a nice convenient form of assassination, quite worthy of miridoff." "do you mean that mademoiselle petrowa was in with them too?" asked fenton, astounded. "no, of course not. i would stake my honour on her. miridoff probably suggested that she make up to you, and, seeing an easy avenue opened up of getting into communication with us, she assented. then miridoff works this other trick and--there you are! don, for the love of heaven clear out while you have the chance. they'll kill you sure if you stay!" "i can't go," said fenton firmly. "it would brand me as a coward--and i cannot leave that kind of a reputation behind me. but, varden, there's one thing--i don't understand what miridoff's game is in regard to mademoiselle petrowa! why should he want her to entangle me?" "i can see several likely reasons," answered varden. "you have earned his resentment in the first place, and miridoff always pays off his scores. it served as a good pretext for neviloff to pick a quarrel in the second place. and thirdly--miridoff is jealous. your escapade of this evening will be reported in a certain quarter in a way calculated to injure you in the eyes of--a certain person. you see i know miridoff thoroughly." chapter ix a night of riots fenton had recognised the possibilities of a popular demonstration for the great french general, but if he had known how far public feeling would be aroused, he undoubtedly would have hesitated before suggesting that capital be made out of the timely visit of the french hero. as things turned out the appearance of the grey-haired general on the lodz set in motion such waves of racial enthusiasm and warlike frenzy that serajoz experienced one of the wildest days and maddest nights in all its wild and mad history. the terms of the duel had been settled between the sadly perturbed varden and a saturnine officer who called on behalf of the aggrieved neviloff, and the former sat with his principal in a balcony that overlooked the seething, turbulent lodz. it was after eleven o'clock, but the crowds were not thinning out, and the tumult seemed to be increasing in violence all the time. after half an hour's earnest argument varden had given up hope of persuading the canadian to depart from the capital before he fell a victim to the skill of neviloff, and now sat eyeing, glumly, the animated scene below. suddenly, above the noise of the mobs, came the electrifying crackle of musketry. first there were a few sharp explosions, then gradually the firing settled down into the sustained din of a steady fusillade. "that means trouble!" ejaculated varden. "the guards must be firing on the people down around the royal palace, judging from the sound." moved by a common impulse the two men rose. varden brought out heavy caps and cloaks, so that when they emerged into the street they were effectually disguised. "lead on, right into the thick of it," admonished fenton. "i'm afraid we've missed something!" they had. when they reached the square in front of the royal palace, they found it jammed with excited humanity, except for a significant radius around the entrance. drawn up across the imposing gates was a double file of soldiers. "the guards fired on the mob. a couple have been killed!" exclaimed varden, who had picked up the information from the excited shouts of those around them. "the fat's in the fire, don! if alexander holds out much longer they'll burn the palace to the ground." in the surging mob the pair were soon separated, varden being borne off bodily in a panicky rush of the people to avoid a threatened charge by the soldiers. loath to return home while the excitement ran so high, fenton drifted along with the crowd. he witnessed a demonstration in the course of which every window in the austrian embassy was smashed. he saw turkish shops and austrian restaurants raided. street fights became a mere incident. the clamorous cry for war was heard on every hand, coupled with execrations of king alexander. on one public square the stubborn sovereign of ironia was burned in effigy. about one o'clock fenton found himself in a small greek restaurant on one of the narrow mercantile streets that run off the duntzig. he was hungry enough to overlook the uninviting appearance of the place and the decidedly rough-looking crew who crowded about the tables. he shared one table with a picturesque old foreigner with a battered, time-worn countenance, and apparel that bespoke either poverty or utter disregard for appearance. fenton stared at the grimy menu card printed in ironian that a tatterdemalion waiter presented, and pointed to one of the items haphazard. luck was not with him, his selection proving to be a sallow omelet of uncertain composition but positive odour. one look at the steaming mess and fenton's appetite took wings. he pushed the plate to one side. "monsieur has not learned to appreciate native cookery," said the foreigner, glancing up and speaking in excellent french. "monsieur perhaps speaks french?" "he does," replied fenton. "and decidedly he does not appreciate native cookery." "for ten years i have been an exile from my beloved france!" sighed the old man. "it has been hard, monsieur, very hard. but the hardest part has been to subsist on the reeking, nauseous stuff that these ironians call food. but time can work any miracle, monsieur. to-day i, françois dubois, with a palate that once was educated to the highest parisian standard, can eat even the omelet of an ironian cook and--forgive the blasphemy, monsieur--call it good!" fenton twisted his chair around so that he could regard his table companion more closely. the old frenchman had a care-lined face from which a pair of black eyes looked out with a virility strangely at variance with the lifeless grey of the mask in which they were set. "how do you happen to be living in serajoz?" fenton asked curiously. "it's a long story and would weary monsieur's patience in the telling," replied the old man. "in a word, i came here with a company of strolling players--i was an actor and a musician, monsieur. ironia was in a bad way ten years ago. a revolution threatened, war with turkey was feared, the government was nearly bankrupt. we made so little money that our company disbanded in serajoz, and here has francois dubois remained ever since, picking up a meagre living by teaching music to such pupils as he has been able to find. the thought that some day i would save enough to return to france has kept life in this useless old body, monsieur. but that hope is now almost gone!" "you know ironia well then?" suggested fenton. "tell me, what is the real sentiment of the people? is this all froth or do they really want war?" "the people of ironia want war!" said the old man soberly. "listen to me, monsieur, for i know of what i speak. they are a deep lot, these ironians, deeper than most people think--fiery in love, implacable in hate, consistent in gratitude, eternal in revenge, deep, deep. they hate the turk and the austrian. they want to win back the lost provinces, and would rather win them back by fighting for them. the smoke of battle is incense in the nostrils of the ironian." the old man wagged his forefinger portentously at fenton. "if there is one man in ironia blinder than all others it is king alexander," he went on. "i, francois dubois, say so. monsieur, i feel in the prophetic vein to-night and i am telling you this: that alexander will not give in to the people. he is a stiff-necked man, this alexander, and he believes in the divine right of kings. his pledged word as a monarch is more to him than the welfare of the country over which he rules. he will not budge one inch, monsieur, and i see the day not far distant when, as first step to making the war they have willed, the ironians will take from alexander his crown. no king can balk the will of a nation to-day--not even a nation in the balkans!" "you really think it could happen?" asked fenton, a little incredulous. "if they did depose alexander, who would succeed him?" "the prince peter, perhaps," replied the old actor. "or, more likely still, ironia would become a republic like my own dear france! ah, monsieur, it would almost reconcile me to dying in this country if i knew that the freedom of france had at last reached ironia!" "a republic!" ejaculated fenton, bright visions flitting before him, conjured up by the old man's words. a republic meant the breaking down of social barriers, the abolition of royal families--and, therefore, of royal marriages. but then he perceived the absolute futility of the idea. what did it matter to him whether ironia became a republic or not? that morning he was due to offer himself as a target to neviloff, and the outcome did not seem at all uncertain. almost unconsciously he started to talk to his companion, telling him of the impending duel. "it is not uncommon for visitors to become embroiled with native officers, monsieur," said the old man. "many a duel has been fought on grounds that smacked strongly of robbery. the upper-class ironian, monsieur, is a cut-throat, a thief, with the manners of a gentleman but the instincts of a pirate. but," and he shrugged his shoulders, "i would not fear the outcome. i know my ironian well. he is devilish handy with the sword, but a poor shot, an atrociously bad shot. have courage; you are more likely to wing him yourself. and in any case, the duel--it has not often the fatal ending. look at me, monsieur. in my day four duels have i fought--and at sixty-two i live to teach music in the gutter of europe!" considerably comforted by the old man's words, fenton took down his address on a card and left, promising to look monsieur dubois up on the first opportunity. * * * * * at dawn the canadian accompanied varden to a misty, silent field on the outskirts of the city, there to wait for neviloff and his friends. they waited long past the appointed hour, until varden, who had come in a mood of almost despairing protest, began to cheer. "something's gone wrong," he said finally. "neviloff would not funk it, of course. this sort of thing is all in the day's work to neviloff. but a hitch has occurred somewhere." as he finished an officer came across the field toward them. he saluted and spoke in ironian to varden. "saved, don!" exclaimed the latter when the officer had left. "once again have you managed to evade the consequences of your rash conduct. neviloff can't keep the appointment. the riots last night became so bad that the troops in the city have been ordered to remain under arms, and the gallant lieutenant will be chained to duty until the situation becomes less acute. in the meantime his slighted honour must go without redress. he sends most profuse apologies--for not being able to kill you this morning. come on, don, i feel as though i could enjoy a good breakfast now." chapter x fate & co. the particular department of the well-known firm of fate & co., to which had been deputed the difficult task of weaving a train of circumstances that would plunge a nation into war, had been working overtime during the forty or so hours that donald fenton had been in serajoz. the web was being surely and unerringly spun, and already certain skeins that represented human lives had been closely interwoven. three lives, indexed in the ledgers of fate perhaps by soul numbers, but distinguished from other mortals on earth by the titles of donald fenton, the grand duke miridoff, and olga of ironia, were so hopelessly tangled, it was apparent that in the unravelling process one or more might be snapped off. peering at what was ahead, the grim official saw two men stand face to face with the world-old issue to be settled between them, at the same time that angry mobs stormed palace walls for a cause that a stubborn king had forsworn. and with this objective in view the minion of fate first prompted a prudent thought to take possession of the mind of prince peter that morning, and then saw to it that a whisper of a restaurant brawl and a duel, impending or already fought, reached the ears of the princess olga. acting on the first, prince peter decided that in its upset condition serajoz was no place for his daughter, and notified her that he had decided she must go to his county estate at kail baleski until such time as the trouble blew over, and acting on the second, olga hurriedly summoned her carriage and set out for a house on the lodz where resided her very great confidante, the baroness draschol. not content with this, the untiring tangler of human skeins prompted a certain little person of exceptional personal charm and international antecedents to don the garb of a peasant woman, muffling her face in a hood, and to set off on foot by sundry unfrequented streets and alleys bound for the same residence in the lodz. when he had seen that the princess entered by the front portal at the very moment that the pseudo-peasant knocked at a rear entrance, and had furthermore satisfied himself that donald fenton had risen from the breakfast-table and had strolled aimlessly into the library, there to wait for his host who had been called away, the official of fate was content to sit back and let events take their course, confident that now his human puppets could not deviate from the lines he had laid down for them. baroness draschol received her royal friend in her own sitting-room, which was just across the hall from the library. there they chatted for some time. olga soon gleaned such information with reference to the postponed duel as the prudent varden had seen fit to trust to his wife. in the meantime the peasant woman, who had asked at the rear door first for mr varden and then for mr fenton, and had been admitted only after the transfer of a gold coin, had been escorted to the library, where she removed the heavy hood, revealing the pleasing features of anna petrowa. fenton, who was becoming inured to surprises of all descriptions, accepted this transformation with equanimity. "good morning, mademoiselle," he said, setting a chair for her. "i am delighted to see you, but not surprised. nothing out of the ordinary has happened for half an hour or so. i felt that the inactivity wouldn't keep up much longer." "i am so more than glad that monsieur has come to no harm," said the dancer quite earnestly. "i see it all now. it was a plot to trap you, and i an innocent part playing in it. but monsieur, i see, does not think of me as the double traitor." she placed a finger on her lips to enjoin silence, and then, tip-toeing over beside him, whispered: "i had not time before we were interrupted to tell the big news that i have learned, and thus have i risked all by coming here so in the broad daylight. it is this: many of the army officers are with our cunning miridoff, and a plot is spreading to force ironia into war against russia by the same means that they used with turkey. a body of ironian troops, acting without official orders, will cross the line to russia and burn a village or so. the russians, of course, they retaliate, and then war is certain to follow. it is all arranged, monsieur. where or when i do not know. word, i beseech, must be taken at once to his highness." fenton sprang up and paced the floor excitedly. "of course, it is exactly what they would do," he exclaimed. "last night has shown them that they cannot win by fair means. mr varden is out, mademoiselle, but will be back in a very few minutes. word shall be taken to prince peter as soon as he returns." in the course of a minute or so fenton's thoughts, occupied with the important information that she had brought, turned to the consideration of how so vital a piece of news had been obtained. he stood in front of his intrepid companion and regarded her with stimulated interest and quite frank admiration. "i can't understand it at all," he said. "try as i may i can't really associate you with plots and counter-plots and secret meetings, and associations with all the rag-tag and bob-tail of balkan intrigue. you are so fair, so young, so--well, so completely feminine that i can't see how you succeed in work that belongs, by its very nature, to the rougher animal, man." "you are mistaken, mistaire fenton," she protested, "and your mistake is so thoroughly masculine! it should not be difficult for a woman to do the work i am doing. it is the work a woman can do best; it is subtle, it requires keen observation of the little things, it means that always the right word must be used; it needs some personal charm, monsieur, and a thorough knowledge of how to exploit it. women--and women only--can be depended upon for the more delicate missions of secret service. it is man--direct, blundering, outspoken man, who thinks judgment better than intuition--who does not fit into the picture." "you put it so well that i am almost convinced," smiled fenton. "still, i don't like to think of you having to associate with the likes of miridoff and his murder crew. there are two spheres in which i like to picture you--on the stage earning the plaudits of the world, and in a cosy chair on the hearth of some lucky man's home." "you are quite hopeless, _mon ami_," she sighed. "your view-point--it is so masculine--so one-sided. man regards woman in but two ways--he wants to possess her and to show her off. if she feels that she must achieve more than man's fatuous approval he frowns, objects, bullies, even uses force to stop her. is it not so?" "it is clear that you have travelled over much in america," said fenton with a laugh. "are such ideas common among the women of your own country?" "advanced thought, it is found everywhere," she replied. the conversation was becoming too abstruse for her scanty english, and she abruptly changed to french, where she was more at home. "in your america the positions have been reversed. there it is the woman who has the complete freedom and the man who is tied. the american--he is too easy. he has but two functions left to him--business and the support of his women-folk." "mademoiselle is a sage, i see, as well as so many other things," said fenton, not a little puzzled at the change that had come over her. from a dainty little person, full of coquettish wiles and sidelong glances, she had suddenly become a serious woman, full of the fire of earnest purpose and determination. genuinely interested, he asked, "tell me, mademoiselle, do you really like this life? can you enjoy it, with all its dangers, its insincerities, its cruelties?" for a moment she did not answer. her glance wandered to a window and fixed itself on outer space, while a smile that was at once brave and wistful played at the corners of her mouth. "yes, i like it, _mon ami_," she said. "it is hard; it robs one of treasured illusions; it takes the silver finish off life and shows the brass beneath. a woman who plays the great game misses much that women are supposed to want--and do want. it may be that these things will be missed from my life, but--i will not regret them. this life means that i am standing alone, fighting against things, combating circumstances, and shaping them to my own ends, trying to grasp from an unwilling hand the fruit success." "you are right," said fenton emphatically. "it is the fight for achievement that makes things worth while. it is seldom though that a woman comes to a realisation of so virile a philosophy of life. there i go again," he said with a laugh. "my purely masculine judgment of women! but tell me of your experiences. i am sure you must have things to tell which would be of great interest. you have seen much of this sort of thing--this--what our statesmen call diplomacy." anna was nothing loath. in her inimitably pretty way she told of her life from the time when she first joined the russian imperial ballet, relating incidents in her struggles as a dancer, but more of her life as an agent of the secret service. she told of a certain affair at monte carlo, when documents had to be abstracted from a personage of royal rank; of the theft and recovery of important naval plans which had been the key to a significant and tense international crisis. fenton listened to her with an interest that was all engrossing, but all the time there remained at the back of his mind--despite her earlier admonition--a sense of incongruity. there was something irreconcilable with the accepted order of things in this dainty butterfly doing the work which kept nations from each other's throats, or helped to precipitate them into conflict. as she talked the aforementioned grim official stirred himself up to complete certain complications that he had planned. he caused the baroness draschol to leave the princess olga for a moment. he impelled the latter to rise and stray into the hall. he then brought the dancer to her feet with a rather incredulous "how i have talked!" while she almost unconsciously put both hands into fenton's and looked up into his face. neither of them heard the soft swish of a skirt in the hall. neither of them knew that the curtains had parted. "i have been so interested," said fenton. "you are really wonderful!" then he turned in time to look into the rather startled, rather incredulous, rather angry eyes of princess olga. it was but for a moment, then the curtains fell back into place, and the intruder, with a murmured word of apology, had melted away again. having thus succeeded in effecting the desired situation, fate & co. proceeded briskly with what was to follow. varden was brought into the library by another door, and into a most solemn conference with anna. a brief meeting was engineered between olga, the baroness and fenton, during which the princess, with the coldest of courtesy, expressed her gratitude to mr fenton for the part he had played in saving her father's life, while fenton, abashed and miserable, watched her with adoring eyes and a tongue that refused to attempt the difficult task of explanation. then a few precious moments were vouchsafed him alone with her. olga did not appear too well pleased, but accepted the situation with good grace. "mr fenton is staying long in ironia?" she asked politely. "i hardly know," replied the canadian. "it will depend upon circumstances. i thought i might be useful here, but so far my presence has only served to create trouble." "perhaps we of ironia do not understand your ways," she said, looking him very steadily in the eyes. "we may perhaps be too prone to take you seriously in everything you do--and say." "your highness, i trust you do not charge me with insincerity," said fenton earnestly. "i have not been conscious of uttering a word which i have not meant. let me explain----" "it will be perhaps well for the simple maids of ironia if mr fenton does not stay too long," went on the princess in even tones. "the strange new ideas that he holds of love, and all pertaining thereto, and the boldness of his address, might perhaps impress too deeply such as did not realise he was bent solely on amusement." "you do not understand," said fenton, "and you are unjust. you would understand if i explained everything to you, but unfortunately i am not permitted to do that. matters of state are involved." "explanations are neither necessary nor desirable," said olga calmly. then she extended her hand lightly. "we may not meet again, mr fenton." the canadian touched her hand with his lips, then for a moment held it close in both of his. "we shall meet again, your highness," he declared confidently. chapter xi the abduction the war riots continued in serajoz with ever-increasing violence. following the unsatisfactory events of the morning, fenton spent several hours in varden's automobile on a mission that took him to many parts of the city. late in the afternoon he returned, to find his host in a state of great perturbation. "things are certainly happening thick and fast," declared varden. "the other side are prepared to stop at nothing, fenton. the princess has been carried off!" fenton, too stunned for speech, listened with his mind in a turmoil, while varden proceeded with a hurried and disjointed explanation. a note had just reached him from anna petrowa, containing the startling information that an attempt at abduction would be made. shortly after two o'clock, on the instructions issued by her royal father, olga had set out for kail baleski in a carriage with the customary retinue for travel. in the meantime the alert anna had learned of a plan, formulated in the miridoff camp, to have the princess abducted on the road and carried up to the hill country. "but," protested fenton in angry amazement, "what purpose can be served? it seems just as senseless as it is incredible!" "the purpose is not hard to find," replied varden. "the princess will serve as a hostage. efforts will be made to force prince peter to withdraw the pressure he is exerting on the king by threats of violence to the princess. "miridoff, of course, will not appear in this," went on varden. "it will be made to appear on the surface that the abduction has been the work of brigands. the princess will be carried up into the hill country and not released until peter has been brought to terms." "but how do you know they have carried her off? it is one thing to plan a daring coup of this kind, and another to accomplish it." "as a matter of fact, don, i don't suppose that they have actually got their hands on her yet, but there is no reason to suppose that they won't do so. carriage travel is slow in this country, and olga would hardly have reached kail baleski yet. as that is practically the start of the hill country they'll make the attempt thereabouts." "then it's not too late," said fenton with a sense of partial relief. "i'm going to borrow your machine. there's a chance that i can overtake her in time." in another minute fenton was settled in the tonneau of the car, which rolled through the streets of the ironian capital with a speed that increased as they neared the open country. * * * * * ironia is a country of extremes. unusual wealth rubs elbows with abject poverty. grand palaces line the lodz in serajoz, and in the narrow streets close on either side human beings fight for a meagre existence. the same rule of contrast holds with reference to the ironian character. the peasantry are honest, hospitable, devout and ignorant. the upper classes, the aristocracy, who control the mining and industrial enterprises from which ironian wealth emanates, are sharp, clever and quite unscrupulous. only in the few old families which had managed to escape extinction in the turkish wars does the innate nobility of the peasant character, purified by education and refinement, show itself. peter was typical of the aristocratic minority; miridoff of the majority. fenton discovered to what a sharp degree the law of contrast was carried in this picturesque country when the driver turned out of the crowded streets of serajoz and guided his car with a steadily increasing hum along one of the wonderfully well preserved roman roads that run out in all directions from the capital city, like the fingers of an out-stretched land. back in serajoz every evidence was to be seen of advanced civilisation. in the country they soon passed out of the area where their car was accepted as a matter of course. fifteen miles from the city their progress through the many villages that dotted the road became marked by confusion and clatter, the peasants staring in open-mouthed amazement at the spectacle of the fast-moving car. it was quite apparent that the automobile was still an object of almost superstitious wonder to these simple souls. the excitement which attended their progress became more marked when the driver turned off the main road and struck through a maze of winding side-roads that circled along the foot-hills on a gradually ascending grade. crouched back in the swaying tonneau, a prey to fear and worry, fenton made frequent use of the only ironian word that he had learned before starting on this headlong pursuit, "faster." the driver, who reverenced the car with the same zeal that a christian will sometimes show in the study of an oriental creed, obeyed with gleeful alacrity. he had always wanted to know just how fast it could be made to go, this devil-wagon with its intricate buttons and levers, the secrets of which he had studied in the same spirit as he would have approached the formulæ of a sorcerer. having at last found a passenger of the same frame of mind as himself, jaleski leaned over the wheel with a smile that brought his beaked nose down with a still more pronouncedly owl-like suggestion, and the wheels fairly lifted off the ground. the car skimmed along the curving highways; ascended steep grades with a graceful ease of a powerful bird on the wing; dashed through villages like a puffing, black juggernaut; and spread a trail of chattering, fear-stricken peasantry in its wake. to fenton the ecstatic jaleski seemed like a genie crouched over the edge of a magic carpet, guiding it with supernatural speed across an earthly continent. he expected that every minute would be his last, though he made no effort to stave off the impending doom. but jaleski proved an artist at the wheel. he brought the imagination of the east to the manipulation of the levers and bars of the materialistic west, and seemed to be able to coax extra speed from them without relaxing his perfect control. he appeared to tell by instinct just what lay beyond the next bramble-obscured turn in the road. he had an extra sense for knowing when to turn out for unseen obstacles. fenton began to feel that a sorcerer was at the wheel. they came in record time to the quaint little village of kail baleski, which shelters itself at the very base of the foot-hills, and has not changed in any detail for the last two hundred years. they found the place in a state of wildest turmoil. crowds of villagers stood in the one street along which the village straggles with a vague suggestion of child-built blocks. as jaleski regretfully brought the car to a stop they were surrounded by a mob who waved their arms and jabbered incessantly. jaleski picked the purport of it from the babel of talk, and, turning a tragic face on his passenger, endeavoured to relate the disturbing news. after questioning him impatiently in imperfect german, fenton gave up the effort to establish intelligent communication, and climbed from the car. he reproached himself bitterly for having started out on so important a mission without bringing an interpreter along. finally, however, he perceived a possible means out of his dilemma. walking down the street toward them came the village priest, benevolent and white-haired, in a worn cassock and rusty clerical hat that bespoke either the poverty of the neighbourhood or the ascetic character of the wearer. the old priest's face was clouded with the same trouble that stared so unmistakably and yet so unintelligibly from the brown faces of the villagers. fenton addressed him eagerly in french, haltingly in german and finally in english. and, wonder of wonders, at the last attempt he found that he had tuned his c.q.d. message to the lingual receiver of the old cleric. "i speak some eenglish," said the priest slowly. "once was i in london. your milton and your shakespeare, of much have i read." "fine, father!" said fenton, shaking the priest's hand warmly, much to the amazement of the villagers, who had backed away respectfully at the approach of the shabby old man. "can you tell me what it's all about? has anything happened to her highness?" slowly and haltingly the priest told him of the happenings that had so upset the usually placid village. early in the morning a messenger had come with the news that her highness, the princess olga, was to arrive that day. prompt preparations had been started at the castle, the towers of which, standing up above the dark tops of the trees, could be dimly made out in the distance. an hour before, the royal carriage had driven into the village with a frightened driver, a partly stunned serving-man and an hysterical maid-in-waiting--but no princess. the equippage had been held up by a band of armed men about two miles back on the road. the princess olga had been taken from the carriage, placed on a horse and carried off with businesslike celerity. after frightening the servants by a threat to shoot them, the band had disappeared into the thickly wooded country through which a narrow pack trail led up into the hills. such was the information that the padre retailed with saddened inflection to fenton. the latter, now that his worst fears were confirmed, lost no time in deciding on his course of action. he would first get whatever information could be secured from the servants, and then strike north for kirkalisse, the northern estates of miridoff, to which olga would probably be taken. he was confident that he could cover the distance during the night if a capable guide could be secured. in the meantime he would send a messenger to varden with the news and urge that assistance be supplied at once. with the priest in tow to act as interpreter, fenton interviewed the members of the prince's household who had figured in the hold-up. they gave voluble descriptions of the incident, but no information that was of any value to the impatient canadian. the band had been very numerous, very fierce and armed like so many living arsenals--the serving people emphasised these facts with much reiteration--but nothing more definite in the way of a description could be obtained. the driver of the carriage, who saw in fenton one whose version of the affair might carry weight, poured into the canadian's ear a verbal eruption of harsh consonants which the priest interpreted as a recital of the valiant fight that he (the driver) and the other male member of the party had put up before they allowed their beautiful mistress to be carried off. "he must be a valiant fighter," declared fenton, "to maul these brigands the way he says he did and come off without a scratch himself!" they were standing in front of the little village inn, and consequently their words sounded quite clearly on the street. he heard a sharp exclamation from a dust-laden stranger who was plodding his way wearily through the knots of villagers. "great scott! is it english i hear?" cried the stranger. coming forward he deposited his bundle on the road and shook fenton's hand with every evidence of keen delight. chapter xii introducing phil crane the new arrival was a man of possibly thirty years, with twinkling blue eyes and brick-red hair. that his clothes were made of the best material and were cut by an english tailor were facts not to be gain-said, even by their tattered and torn and generally dilapidated condition. one sleeve of his coat was in holes and scorched with powder. he was hatless, and his hair, long and shaggy, tumbled about his brow. there was no need to ask his nationality. he was an englishman--a travelled englishman--since the two are very different beings. "my name is crane--philip aloysius crane," he announced as he vigorously gripped fenton's hand. "donald fenton, at your service," said the canadian. "i am speechless, floored for lack of suitable words to express my delight at meeting someone from the tight little island," declared philip aloysius crane. "you see i've been six months without hearing a word of english spoken except by myself--and in the state of mind i've been in i've been able to express myself only in terms of profanity. so you'll understand these--er--ebullitions, my unwonted--er--exuberance." "you've got nothing on me just now," declared fenton. "i started out on an important mission without knowing a word of ironian, except the equivalent for 'faster'--and with the kind of driver i had that was the one word i didn't need. i'm just beginning to realise that i'm practically stranded." "then i'm just the man you're looking for," said crane. "i talk ironian like a native; or no, hardly that. i talk it with my tongue and not with my shoulders and eyebrows. if i can be of any service to you as interpreter, command me." "i've got to find my way into the hill country," explained fenton. "if you could come along with me it would solve the difficulty. but first i ought to explain to you that it might prove a pretty dangerous business." crane's weary face lighted up under its coating of dust. "danger! why, my dear boy, that's what i've lived on for the last six months," he declared. "goodness knows, it's about all i've had in way of sustenance up there in the oil country lately." "the oil country?" this questioningly. "yes. you see i'm an engineer and supposed to know something about oil. if you know anything of this country you are aware that they have some big oil wells in the north-west section. as a matter of fact they've got about the finest certified gold mine in those same oil fields that i've ever seen, especially since the war broke out, and they've been able to sell petroleum to austria and germany at war prices. "another englishman and myself signed on here three years ago," he went on. "all the work is done under the superintendence of imported engineers, mostly austrian and german. redfield and i were the only englishmen there, and he left over a year ago--lucky beggar! when the war broke out things got pretty uncomfortable for me. you see, the owners didn't want to lose the profits they make on shipping oil across the border, and for that reason they've been fighting tooth and nail to keep the country neutral. i came under suspicion naturally and i suppose i was pretty outspoken. i had a dust-up pretty nearly every day with some of the others, and finally, when i tried to get out of the country to go home and enlist, they clapped me into jail. that was six months ago, and i've been there ever since--a filthy hole with a wooden bench as a bed and a family of toads as company. four days ago i persuaded one of the guards--with the bench--to let me go. i got away safely enough, but one of the other guards nearly potted me. since then i've been beating my way back to civilisation, begging from the peasants and sleeping under the glorious panoply of heaven. i haven't a cent in my pockets. i haven't even a hat. perhaps you will now appreciate the faint stirring of pleasure that came over me when i met a man who talked english--and had a motor-car!" fenton decided that he liked this englishman and that he could safely trust him. accordingly he told crane something of the mission which was taking him to the hill country. "suits me down to the ground," said crane, gripping fenton's hand again. "i'll go along as interpreter--anything at all so long as i get my share of the scrapping. i've acquired a grouch against the whole country that won't work off until i've battered my fists on some honest ironian faces. i've stayed here six months at their wish; now i'll stay a few days longer on my own account and wipe off a few scores. besides i came out here with a sneaking hope that i'd meet with romantic adventures of the anthony hope brand--you know, pink the prince and marry the beautiful lady-in-waiting and all that sort of thing. so far, the only ironian women i've met have been honest peasant bodies who looked on sour milk as a luxury." at this point the old priest approached them and intimated that it had been his intention to ask mr fenton to partake of his humble fare, and perhaps the new-comer, too, would join them. they accepted; crane with a readiness that spoke eloquently of the length of his fast. fenton then hastily scribbled a note to varden and handed it to jaleski. "tell him, crane," he said, "that he's to get back to serajoz as fast as he can do it with any degree of safety. tell him it's a matter of life and death, but that he isn't to run any risk of killing himself till after he's delivered that note." crane relayed the message to jaleski, who acknowledged it with a deep obeisance and climbed with alacrity into the driver's seat. the car glided off and, with rapidly increasing speed, vanished into the distance. the cloud of dust that marked its course showed that jaleski had understood fully the first part of the message, if not the last. "lord help anyone or anything that gets on the road between here and serajoz this day!" said fenton. they followed the priest to a vine-covered cottage standing beside the village church. on entering they found themselves in a small room, scrupulously clean and reflecting an atmosphere almost of culture despite the cheapness of the sparse furnishings. a table and several wooden chairs and a small case of unsized boards containing a few ancient, much-used books were the chief articles that the room contained. at one end was a stone fireplace, blackened by the smoke of many score years. on the mantle above was a large crucifix. the table was set for a frugal supper of dried goat meat, black bread and fruit. the priest, with an air of earnest courtesy that might have graced the most sumptuous of banquets, bade his guests be seated. a silent serving-woman of rare old age but unimpaired activity placed two extra plates and the necessary knives and forks. neither fenton nor crane needed any second bidding to fall to, for the former's appetite had been whetted on the trip from the capital, and the latter had reached the stage where a piece of dried leather would have seemed a toothsome morsel. the priest ate sparingly himself and watched the prodigious efforts of his young guests with a benevolent smile lurking in the fine wrinkles that time had written around eyes and mouth. "reverend father, i shall always rank you a good first on my list of benefactors!" declared crane with fervour when the last shred of food had been consumed. "i've sat down to many a fine meal in my time, but the memory of this will remain with me to my dying day. you've saved my life." "what it is to be young," assented the priest, with a gracious delight in the exercise of his hospitality. "when youth and the good appetite together go even the coarse fare of a humble priest can seem good. my sons, it pleases me much your company to have." "the pleasure is more than mutual," said crane. "i assure you, father, that i shall tear myself away with great reluctance. i shudder at the thought of our trip back into that hill country again. it is rough up there." "i have a friend in the hill country," said the priest. "a letter you shall take to him and the best he has shall be yours." fenton, who had regretted every moment spent in the satisfying of even so clamorous a possession as his appetite, now made a motion to get up. "father, you know the urgency of our mission, and will not think ill of us if we lose no time in setting out," he declared. "the life of the princess olga may depend upon our promptness." the old priest restrained him with upraised hand, speaking in a low and cautious tone. "a word in your ear, my son," he said. "it would be well to depart when no one sees. it shall be given out that you stay as my guests to-night. after night falls you leave with a guide that i find." "you mean that we might be spied upon?" asked fenton. the priest hesitated. "differences of opinion are found even in such small hamlets as ours," he said, with a trace of sadness. "those are here--those who might carry word ahead of your coming." "you know best, i guess," said fenton, endeavouring to accept the priest's dictum with as little impatience as possible. "but how can i stay here when i know she is in danger--that every minute counts?" "it's common sense, though, fenton," broke in crane. "i've lived in the country long enough to know that you've got to keep your business strictly to yourself. in a matter of this kind you can't be too cautious. if you want to be of real assistance in this matter you'll have to keep cool for a few hours." fenton, who had risen during the discussion, sat down again. the kindly priest laid a wrinkled hand on his arm with a gesture that was almost a benediction. "listen, my son," he said. "by this time she whose safety we all wish above everything else in the world far away has been carried. a man of god who has brought the message to our people for fifty years, has baptised the children, married the young people and shriven the dying, knows much that goes on of which he cannot speak. a guide i know who will take you where the princess olga is, and also he will lead you to where is found take larescu." "larescu!" cried crane in so loud a tone that the priest glanced anxiously around and laid a warning finger on his lips. "you mean the famous leader of the brigands, the king of the hills, the man who defies any authority but his own, but who volunteered under another name and fought in the ironian army as a private all through the turkish war?" the priest answered him in guarded tones, but with an inflection of pride that no need for caution could subdue. "take larescu is great patriot, great warrior, great friend of my people, the poor peasants," he said. "larescu has fought the rich nobles, he has robbed and, god forgive him, has killed. he has sinned much, but his good deeds are as the trees in the great forest. when the war for the lost land comes larescu will be at the front of battle. he is wise, he knows much of the great world. he can save our princess, young sir. to larescu must you go first." "the people who live in the mountains are almost a different race from the rest of the people of ironia," explained crane to fenton. "they're a wild lot, with a gipsy strain in them. the government of ironia has completely failed to impose any legal restraints on them. they have their own customs, their own laws, and a chief who rules them as absolutely as any king that ever lived. but if war breaks out they'll go and fight for ironia to a man. and, lord, how they can fight! their chief, take larescu, is a giant who can take on any three ordinary men. i've heard stories of the wonderful things he has done that you wouldn't believe, but which i know are more than half true. larescu is a combination of theseus and robin hood, with a dash of d'artagnan thrown in. if our host can enlist his sympathies the rescue of the lost princess will develop into a pleasant little picnic party." the three men sat around the table and conversed in low tones as the shades of evening settled down, the priest chaining the interest of his guests with tales of ironia's turbulent history, stories of turkish oppression, of wars fought for liberty, of feudal strife and internecine struggle. in broken phrases that somehow embraced a graphic power of vivid portrayal, he told the life story of a down-trodden people only now groping on the threshold of nationhood. "drive the nobility and the oilcrats out of ironia and you'd have the makings of a great nation," said crane, taking up the thread of narrative where the priest left it. he proceeded to give a more detailed account of his own experiences, telling of the vast extent of the oil-fields and the huge profits that the owners were making. an ironian workman received a few pence a day, doing the work for which a man elsewhere would receive as many dollars. the discipline was severe, almost as rigid, in fact, as in a penal institution. the law stopped practically at the boundary of the oil country; within that limit the word of the owners was law. the priest listened silently, bowing his head in sad assent to many of the statements that the young englishman made. fenton also was silent, hearing but little of the conversation. he sat back in his chair and gloomily conjured up pictures of olga in the power of the arch-villain, miridoff. and wellington, on the crucial field of waterloo, did not long for night with greater intensity than did fenton for the descent of the sheltering darkness which would enable him to start out on his quest. chapter xiii in the hill country it was after ten when they quietly emerged from the house of the old priest. the sky was overcast so that not a star showed. a peasant silently emerged from the shadows at the side of the road and placed himself before them, hat in hand. "sashu will take you to larescu," said the priest. "you can depend upon him. he is a peasant from the estate of his highness, the prince peter, and would give his life willingly for any member of the family." "father, you have indeed been a friend in need to us. i wish i could repay a small share of what we owe you," said fenton, his hand straying toward his pocket. crane noticed the movement and nudged him under cover of the darkness. "not that," he whispered. "they are very proud, these ironians, and very glad at all times to offer hospitality. you would mortally insult him." "perhaps," said fenton hastily, "there is something we could procure for the church--a new altar cloth, say. i would like to do something for your people in that way, father. suppose i leave the matter in your hands. if this is not sufficient we could fix it up on our return trip." the old priest accepted the money that fenton proffered with an eagerness that showed how deeply he had been touched. he thanked them earnestly, explaining that there were many things he could purchase with the donation. they struck off into the darkness with his parting benediction following them. for a long time they tramped on in silence. sashu, their guide, led the way along rough country side-roads, fenton and crane following side by side. after covering about half a mile in this way the villager turned abruptly to the left and led them up a winding path directly into the heavily wooded approach to the hills. the walking now became very difficult as the grade was a steep one and the ground rough. the two men began a conversation, but lack of breath rendered it spasmodic. finally they reached a wider and fairly even road on which the ascent was more gradual. "by the beetling eyebrows of beelzebub!" gasped crane. "another hundred yards and i'd have been knocked out. the food you get in an ironian jail doesn't fit you for mountain-climbing." "i wouldn't mind the grade so much if the moon would only show itself," said fenton, whose determination to get on to their journey's end had carried him through the ascent with less difficulty. "if we could only see where we were going we could make something like decent time over these hills. our guide doesn't seem to be having any difficulty." "an ironian peasant can see in the dark," asserted crane. "they're a queer lot--a good deal like animals in some ways. they don't look much farther into the future than the next square meal. when his stomach's full your peasant has just one ambition--to curl up in the sun and go to sleep. beat him and he'll do your bidding like a sullen donkey, and the first time you come within kicking distance he puts his heels into you, figuratively speaking. treat him well and he'll die for you like a faithful dog." "perhaps you could get something out of this picturesque fellow ahead of us," suggested fenton. "find out from him where we're going and when we can expect to get there." "i don't think it would be much use," said crane doubtfully. "the sphinx is a positive chatterbox compared with one of these peasants. you have to treat them like electors; prime them with a gallon or two of extra strong liquor before you can pump anything out of them. i don't suppose you have anything of the kind handy?" "no," replied fenton. "that was another thing i forgot to equip myself with before starting out. it has just occurred to me too that i neglected to bring along a revolver. we're not very well equipped for an expedition of this kind." crane stopped short, and indulged in a hearty, unrestrained laugh. "fenton," he said, as soon as he recovered, "i'll wager you've kept your guardian angel working night shifts ever since you were born. by the twisted horn of the off ox of ind! you start up into a mountainous country teeming with blood-thirsty brigands in pursuit of a band of villains who've carried off a princess--and with no other weapons than those with which nature was good enough to provide you. you accept the services of the first guide offered and, if his villainous visage is any indication of what we can expect from him, he'll cut our throats the first chance he gets." "you don't need to come any farther," said fenton, with some heat. "i warned you in the first place that it might be a dangerous mission." "don't misunderstand me," pleaded crane. "this is only my way of expressing admiration. it's not so much that i admire courage as that i bow humbly before originality whenever i meet it. and lord, man, you are certainly original! i'll wager no one has ever tackled a job like this one before. but don't think i'm not as keen for the trip as ever. the longer the odds the better i like it. only--i think it would be advisable under all the circumstances if i got as much information as i could out of the pleasant-looking cut-throat ahead." he called to their guide in ironian, and sashu's deep voice answered from the darkness ahead of them. crane quickened his pace until he had drawn even with the villager and for a space of ten minutes they talked. sashu answered crane's questions volubly. the latter then dropped back again. "friend sashu is the exception that proves the rule of ironian taciturnity," he stated. "he avers that we'll reach the place we're making for some time between now and morning." "and where is he taking us?" asked fenton. "well, he seemed rather vague on that point," acknowledged crane, "or perhaps cross-examination isn't my long suit. i didn't get a great deal of information out of him on that point. in fact, not any. these natives are as close as oysters about the haunts and movements of take larescu." "then we are really being taken to the headquarters of this brigand chief?" "we're headed that way," said crane, "and likely to arrive provided we don't slip off a precipice on the way or meet any wandering parties of brigands. these hill billies have the pleasant habit of potting at you first and inquiring about you afterward." "to think of the princess being in the power of these people!" groaned fenton. "say, crane, can't we travel faster than this? tell the guide we can't dawdle along this way any longer." "it wouldn't be safe to go any faster, not in this darkness," protested the engineer. "do you realise that the path we are on now is just four feet wide and that one false step would take us back to where we started from in about three seconds?" nevertheless, they responded to fenton's impatience by quickening their pace and, in silence again, climbed higher and farther into the rough hill country. sometimes they had a clear, even path, but more often sashu led them along narrow ledges where the footing even in the daylight would have been precarious, so that they had to grasp hands and feel cautiously ahead before making a step. sometimes they left the trail entirely and clambered up over the rocks, guided by husky directions from sashu and sometimes assisted bodily by the guide. it was gruelling work, and in a short time the two westerners were muscle weary and puffing for breath. fenton urged himself along after the last ounce of physical initiative had left him by conjuring up lurid pictures of the princess olga in the power of the unscrupulous miridoff. even when so weak that he had to clutch several times at a rock before gaining a hold, fenton was able to spur himself on to increased speed by the thoughts of the possible dire consequences of delay. they had finished a particularly difficult climb over a rocky promontory that projected across the path. sashu cautiously swung himself down until his feet touched the narrow ledge of the path on the other side. fenton followed suit, releasing one hand from its tenacious grasp of the rock while he slowly let his weight down. unable to bear the full strain, the other hand lost its grip and, with a gasp of horror, fenton felt himself slipping. he lunged frantically for a saving hold with the free hand, but the effort came too late. he continued to slip and came down so rapidly that, when one foot struck on the edge of the narrow ledge, his weight and the momentum of his fall threw him outward. at such moments the mind acts with lightning rapidity. in the brief second that precedes a plunge to death, the events of a lifetime can flash in fleeting panorama through the human consciousness. fenton thought of olga, of the helpless position in which his death would leave her, of varden, of ironia and the war--and again of olga. and then his downward, headlong fall was arrested, brought to a stop with a jarring, crushing violence! he felt a sharp pain in his head, and then darkness closed in. when fenton regained consciousness he found himself stretched full length on a ledge of rough rock. his left arm was hanging partly over the ledge. soon he became aware of numbness and a racking pain in his head. the darkness of night had given way to the dull grey of early dawn, by which token fenton knew that some hours had elapsed since his fall. he groaned and shifted himself slightly with a painful effort. for a few moments he remained perfectly still, collecting his strength, and then raised his voice in a call for help. immediately he heard an exclamation from above and a dark object showed against the grey of the wall of rock that shut off all view of the sky on one side of him. fenton focused his wandering glance on this object and it finally resolved itself into a head peering over the ledge of the path higher up. "fenton! where are you?" the voice of crane floated down to him. "here," he called back. the hammering pain in his head made his voice seem small and far away. it was several moments before the voice of crane again reached his ears. "i see you now," he cried. "thank heaven you're safe, old man! i've been sitting up here for a century waiting for dawn so that i could get down below and hunt for your body. sashu left ages ago for help and ought to be back any time now. are you badly hurt?" "i think my head's broken," replied fenton faintly, "and i suspect other injuries." his voice apparently did not carry to the ledge above, for crane went right on: "cheer up, fenton! i'll have you up out of there in no time. i believe i can see a path leading down there some distance ahead! just keep easy in your mind and i'll soon be with you." there was a long silence after that. several times fenton called but got no answer. the pain in his head became wellnigh unbearable. when he had just about convinced himself that the presence of crane on the ledge above had been purely a figment of his fevered imagination, he heard a voice from behind. "here i come, fenton. i don't believe anything but a bird ever negotiated this path before, but, by the tail of the sacred cow, such trifles as narrow ledges and the laws of gravitation can't thwart philip aloysius crane! and what's more, we're both going back the way i came." there was a short interval during which fenton heard laboured breathing and the sharp impact of crane's heavy shoes on the rocks, gradually drawing nearer, and then he felt a hand on his forehead. "how are you, anyway?" asked crane. "don't think i was ever so thankful in all my life as when i heard your voice. i had given you up, of course. i sat up there on the rocks for three solid hours waiting for daylight so that i could do something, and i hope i never put in such a night again. can you sit up?" he went on, quite cheerfully now. fenton exerted himself and, with the help of a powerful tug from his companion, struggled into a sitting position. he felt very weak and dizzy still, but his ability to move convinced him that he had sustained no serious injuries. "fine!" exclaimed crane with enthusiasm. "you're a long way from dead yet. here, i want your belt." he took the belts from around his own and fenton's waist and dexterously knotted them together. then, slipping one arm under fenton's shoulders, he helped him to his feet. turning quickly he drew the latter's right arm around his neck and strapped him to his back with the belts. "i'm too heavy a load for you," protested fenton. "strapped up this way i'll be able to walk all right. let's try it anyway." crane straightened up until fenton's feet touched the rock again. the latter's strength was slowly coming back, and after a moment's hesitation he stepped out. thus slowly and uncertainly, with locked step, fenton buoyed up by the pressure of the strap, they negotiated the steep pathway. every few yards they paused to allow fenton to regain his strength, and as the grade increased, these stops became more frequent and of longer duration. the path was a narrow and winding one that would have tried the skill and daring of an alpine guide. it was plentifully interspersed with sharp corners, around which they edged with the utmost care, and rocks over which they laboriously climbed. a terrific strain was imposed on crane, for there were times when he had to practically carry his companion, and the brunt of working their way over the obstructions and around sharp corners fell entirely on his shoulders. all that fenton was capable of was an automatic power of motion. several times they were on the verge of collapse into the yawning chasm, but on each occasion the coolness and intrepidity of crane saved them. and in time they won their way to the top, though the feat had seemed practically impossible at the outset. "didn't think we could do it!" gasped crane, as he dragged his companion over the edge of the road to safety. he fumbled with almost nerveless fingers at the belts, and when the knot was unloosed, two inert masses of flesh and bone sank limply on the rough surface of the rock. the path at this point was fairly wide, so that they could recline upon it with perfect safety. for a long time they lay there without a move, too exhausted even to speak. finally fenton turned a little toward his companion and stretched out his arm. "you're a wonder, phil," he said. crane sat up and gripped fenton's hand. "a mere trifle, don," he said. then he gave vent to to a glad halloa. "here comes sashu and a whole male chorus of brigands! i was beginning to think it was time he got back." chapter xiv take larescu the hill people of ironia were counted as giants, and their leader, take larescu, was a giant among them. he stood four inches over six foot, with the proportions generally of a grizzly bear. his head, carried at a dignified elevation, was covered with a red cap, closely approximating the turkish fez in shape, and allowing a mop of curly black hair to protrude all around. if in his physical make-up he resembled the bear, his face showed a close approach to the fierce and noble lines of the eagle. with bold, commanding eye, heavy, hooked nose, and long black moustache, he gave more than a suggestion of imperturbable dignity and high-reaching ambition, while the general expression of his face showed determination, ruthless strength and cruelty. he was dressed in the usual costume of the ironian, with broad white trousers and many-coloured blouse, and carried a brace of pistols in his belt. an incongruous touch was lent by an ornate scarab watch fob which dangled from his belt between the ivory-mounted pistols. if one cared to inspect this mountainous figure of a man in detail, further incongruities were brought to light in the heavy european boots and the knitted under-garment which showed beneath his voluminous sleeves. take larescu stood on the side of a precipitous hill and watched a file of men slowly winding their way up toward him. his keen eye had already noted that the approaching party included two strangers, who from their clothing were apparently foreigners. the leader of the hill tribes did not waste much time in fruitless speculation as to the probable identity of the two new-comers, but, feeling in the loose folds of his scarlet sash, produced a decidedly modern-looking pair of field-glasses. focussing them on the distant figures of the men toiling up the hill, he studied them intently for a few minutes. "both americans," was his mentally registered verdict as he closed the glasses and carefully replaced them in the ample store-room of his belt. then from the belt he produced a cigarette and match, and later still an amber mouthpiece. the capacity of larescu's sash was a constant source of wonder to those who came in contact with him. one could not help speculating as to what he would produce next. the path up which the approaching party laboriously climbed brought them to the crest of the opposing slope, which was connected with the steep eminence on which he stood by a causeway formed by the fallen trunk of a huge tree. hidden in the dense wood behind him, a handful of men could have held this position against an army. moving with the apparent leisure of extreme ponderosity, larescu took up his position at the end of the causeway, a formidable horatius capable of holding the bridge against any odds. his new position was not taken for purposes of defence, however. in a booming voice he called out a gruff but hearty greeting. larescu studied the two strangers closely as they stepped cautiously across the fallen tree trunk. one was a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with an unhatted shock of fair hair. a blood-stained rag bound around his head indicated that this member of the party had met with an accident. the other stranger was shorter and broader, with a free and careless air, a much-freckled face and hair of flaming red. they in turn studied take larescu with an even greater degree of interest. "observe the comic opera hercules," whispered crane to fenton. "good morning, gentlemen," said larescu, speaking in english. "i am indeed delighted to have you as my guests. you, sir, i regret to note, have had an accident." the two travellers stared. if the statue of liberty ever took upon itself to voice a message of welcome to incoming ships, the passengers would not feel a more complete degree of amazement than that which fenton and crane experienced on hearing this cordial message, phrased in the most perfect english, fall from the lips of this fierce and uncouthly apparelled brigand. "good morning," replied fenton, recovering himself with an effort. "yes, i had the misfortune to make a false step at a critical part of the trail. if it hadn't been for my friend here, i would be still lying where i fell. am i addressing take larescu?" "you are, sir," replied the ironian, inclining his huge bulk in a courteous bow. "you are standing at the present moment where foot of any but ironian has never before rested. that your mission is an important one i am assured, else my people would not have seen fit to escort you here. you are doubly welcome, sirs, if you bring news." "shades of chesterfield!" said crane to himself. "this isn't real life. if the orchestra doesn't tune up for a solo by the bass lead in a second or so, i'll know that i'm dreaming!" fenton in the meantime was fumbling in his coat pockets for a letter that the worthy priest had given him for the ruler of the hill country. he handed it over to larescu, who immediately broke the seal and read the contents. at the conclusion he addressed them with even more cordiality than before. "mr fenton, i am glad to know you, and you too, mr crane. you are just in time for breakfast. but before we sit down i shall look to your injuries, mr fenton." he led the way back through the trees for some distance until they came to a low-lying, roughly finished house, with nothing on the outside to distinguish it from the typical ironian abode excepting its size. inside, however, they found cause for fresh astonishment. the room in which they found themselves might well have belonged to an englishman of wealth and refinement. the walls were lined with well-filled bookcases and excellent engravings. there were plenty of comfortable leather chairs, and a thick rug covered the floor. fenton and crane looked the surprise they felt. "you did not think to find anything of this kind up here in the hills?" chuckled the giant. "yet if an abode of super-luxury could be concealed in the grottoes of monte carlo, why should you be surprised at finding such simple possessions as these in the mountains of ironia? but i must not waste words while you, sir, are in such need of attention." in another minute glasses of strong spirits had been placed before his two guests. fenton felt a grateful warmth steal over him as he drained his glass. with almost professional deftness, larescu examined the injuries that fenton had sustained in his fall and adjusted fresh bandages. "i know a little of medicine and surgery," he said, "and look after the health of my people. but now for breakfast, gentlemen." they sat down to a meal of remarkable substantiality, backed up by excellent coffee. fenton ate as well as his physical condition permitted. crane, as he put it, made up for lost time; but together they could not equal the gastronomic feats of their host. the giant finished dish after dish with the appetite of a grizzly emerging from his long winter sleep. his table manners were as finicky and perfect as his capacity was immeasurable. during the meal, which threatened to extend well on into the forenoon, larescu talked on a wide range of subjects, giving an insight into the unique life that he led. he had travelled considerably. each year he quietly vanished from his hill haunts and spent two months or more in the larger cities of western europe. he spoke french and german as well as english. he had studied medicine in london and vienna, electricity in berlin, and the art of living well in paris. he was an omnivorous reader, and had magazines and papers brought to him at all times of the year. he knew something of music, much of philosophy and art, and all that there was to know on the subject of the government of primitive people. the wonder of his guests grew with each minute. "i am telling you things about myself of which no one in ironia, with the exception of my personal followers, has any idea," he confided to them. "in serajoz they know me only as the leader of the hill people--and a rather good fighting man. you are the first guests from the outside world to sit at my table, and i have told you all this, serene in the knowledge that not a word shall go outside this room." they hastened to assure him that his confidence would be respected completely. larescu then went on to tell them of his work with the hill tribes; how he made and administered their laws, adjusted all differences that arose between individuals and even on occasions officiated at the marriage rites over the tongs, for the hill people, although intensely religious in many ways, still clung to customs that marked their blood relationship to the gipsy. finally, having completed his breakfast, larescu shoved back his chair. his manner changed at once. "now for business," he said briskly, even sharply. "my reverend friend, for whose opinion i have most high regard, has commended you to me. in what way can i be of service to you?" fenton hesitated a moment before replying. divining quickly and accurately the reason for his guest's hesitancy, larescu rose and, walking over to his secretary, fumbled through the contents of one of the pigeon-holes until he found a certain letter. this he placed in fenton's hands. "i judged from the padre's letter that your errand was in a certain sense a political one," he said. "read this letter. it is from prince peter and will allay any uncertainties which you may have entertained with reference to my sympathies and trustworthiness." a hasty glance through the letter convinced fenton that not only did larescu stand high in the regard of prince peter, but that he had pledged himself to the cause that peter was championing. "you must pardon me," he said to their host, "but the fact that i have been in this country a few days only is perhaps sufficient excuse for caution. i had only the assurance of the priest of kail baleski as to where you stood." he then told larescu of what he had heard in the gardens of the royal palace on the night of the ball, of the attempts on his own life and later on that of prince peter, of the carrying off of the princess olga, and finally of his own headlong pursuit. crane, who had previously known little of the object of their journey, other than the mere fact that the princess had been abducted, hearkened to the recital with keenest interest and every evidence of excitement. the effect on take larescu was even more marked. he listened with a scowl that darkened as fresh evidence of the perfidy of miridoff was brought forward. at the conclusion he thumped the table with his huge fist and swore with mighty ironian oaths that he would not leave a stone standing at kirkalisse. "the duke miridoff is a double-eyed traitor!" he declared. "for german gold he would barter his country's opportunity to regain her lost provinces. i have a long score to settle with miridoff. he has shown bitter animosity to the people of the hills. three of my men were hanged at serajoz ten months ago for a raid that his exactions had provoked. but now the day of reckoning has come! how is it your proverb goes?--this is the last straw that causes the worm to turn!" the lust of conflict and the primitive craving for revenge showed in every line of the gigantic chief. the veneer of civilisation sloughed off. his eyes flashed, his nostrils dilated, and as he stood up his mighty arms swung menacingly like heavy flails. "by to-night i can have three thousand of my men before the gates of kirkalisse!" he declared. chapter xv the trump card the sun crept behind a distant mountain peak. in this country of little twilight the transition from day into night was speedy, and almost as olga watched from her window the last rays seemed to vanish; symbol to her of the vanishing of hope and the encroachment of she knew not what. she reflected, as she sat there by the window, on the events of the night before. following her capture by a band of brigands, she had been convoyed through the hill country by a trail almost as difficult as that which fenton and crane had followed. they had arrived in the dense darkness of night at an old building perched on the crest of one of the highest peaks--apparently a disused hunting lodge. the fears of the princess, which had increased with each hour spent on the trail, were somewhat allayed when she found there were a couple of maids in the lodge. but while that was comforting in one respect, the fact that they evidently knew and respected her rank proved to her that it was no band of mountain marauders who had carried her off. the girls were not gipsies. her first thought that she would be held for a ransom was replaced by a feeling of vague uncertainty. the lodge had not been used for some time, although several of the rooms had been hastily furnished; furnished too with a certain degree of elegance. this was an added circumstance which provided the princess with scope for uneasy speculation as to her present position and the likely developments of the future. in a vague way she began to realise the motive behind her abduction. any doubts that may have lingered had vanished at noon that day with the arrival of a young woman who rode up a wide path around the mountain side from the opposite direction to that along which the princess had been brought. the new-comer was received with every evidence of respect by the two dusky brigands who guarded the lodge. watching from the window of a room on the ground floor, which had been appropriated to her as a bedroom, olga had felt a sudden stirring of resentment when she recognised in the fair stranger the woman to whom fenton had been so attentive--the woman, moreover, who had involved him in a restaurant brawl and for whose sake he had been prepared to fight a duel. if olga were still ignorant of the real nature and the depth of her interest in the canadian, she must surely have been astonished at the jealous promptings which took possession of her as she surreptitiously regarded the dancer through the broken shutter which rattled in the wind outside her window. the new-comer undeniably was attractive. the interview which followed between them had left the princess in a state of mental puzzlement and doubt. mademoiselle petrowa had told her a most surprising story, speaking in french for the benefit of possible eavesdroppers; a story of plots and counter-plots in which the narrator herself appeared in a double role, ostensibly an agent of miridoff, actually a member of the russian secret service. the story seemed highly improbable, and yet there was much to substantiate it--the presence of the dancer in varden's library and her claim to having been on hand when the attempt was made to assassinate prince peter. and in addition there had been something about the little dancer, an air of sincerity, that had done much to impress the princess with the truth of her story. * * * * * as olga sat in the gathering gloom her thoughts were occupied largely by this surprising development. if the other woman's story were true, then her relations with fenton might easily be understood. the princess was anxious to believe it, but doubts persisted, doubts which originated in jealous consciousness of the undoubted charms of the dancer. by this time olga frankly admitted to herself that she had been, and still was, jealous. her jealousy was a revelation to her. the door opened and with firm, heavy step a man entered the room. olga turned and saw that her visitor was miridoff himself. his presence explained much that she had hitherto been unable to fathom. there was an unmistakable change in the demeanour of the grand duke. he carried himself with the conscious air of a conqueror. he emanated triumph. he came, quite apparently, to dictate terms; but it was in tones of courtesy that he first addressed her. "your highness," he said, bringing his heels together with a stiff military bow, "i trust that i do not intrude. there is a matter which i must discuss with you immediately, however, and i must beg your attention for a few minutes." beneath the man's outward show of courtesy and his arrogant air, there was something sinister and threatening. miridoff believed in pushing any advantage mercilessly. against an unarmed adversary he would not hesitate to use his sword. success bred in him no magnanimity for his opponent, but rather increased his presumption. olga dimly realised something of the mental attitude of her adversary, and for the first time the real danger of her position appealed to her certainly and clearly. she faced him, however, with no evidence of fear. "am i indebted to your grace for the way in which i have been treated, for my detention as a prisoner in this house?" she demanded. "no," answered miridoff. "the motive for this was purely political. there is no reason why i should not explain it to you, though i did not come to discuss the ethics of your position here. by the time you are free to return to serajoz certain events will have happened which will make it necessary for you to subscribe to the explanation of your disappearance now generally accepted--that you were carried off by a wandering tribe of mountain gipsies. no harm can come, therefore, of perfect candour at the present moment." with an air of complete assurance, miridoff drew a chair up close and sat down. "i can see that your abduction was a mistake," he went on. "at least, it has been found unnecessary from a purely political standpoint. the advantage we thought to gain by getting you into our power was, of course, to hold you as a hostage against the continued activity of your august father. two days ago, when all serajoz was clamouring for war on austria, our only hope seemed to be to force the prince to abandon the allied cause. since then, however, the militant wing of our party has prevailed, and a plan has been put into operation that cannot fail"--he paused and regarded her with an air of intense satisfaction--"to bring ironia into the war against russia by this time to-morrow! the active opposition of your royal father is no longer to be feared. i have a reason for explaining this which you will perhaps divine later." "then you have come to tell me that i am free?" "not at all," replied miridoff, his complacency quite unruffled by the obvious scorn in her tone. "it is no longer necessary to detain you for political reasons--the comings and goings of a hundred princesses could now have no effect on the course of events. but there is still a personal matter to be settled between us!" he leaned forward in his chair and regarded her with an insolently possessive smile. as his gaze rested on her slender girlish figure and appraised the rich beauty of her face, complacency gradually gave way to passion and determination. "you refused to marry me," he said abruptly, sharply. "i have come to give you certain reasons for changing your mind." the princess replied with quiet contempt and a determination equal to his own. "i refuse to discuss the subject with you. my decision was final. you may keep me here for ever. you may kill me. you cannot force me to marry you!" miridoff stood up and regarded her sombrely. "since our first talk on this subject i have not flattered myself that i could win you in any other way than by force," he said. "consequently, force it must be. this is what i have decided." me took a stride up and down the room before halting again in front of her. his tone, when he began to speak, was much the same as he would have employed in outlining a military manoeuvre. he could see but one side of the situation--his own determination to conquer the girl and the plan he had formed to accomplish that purpose. that she would suffer in the carrying out of that plan had not been taken into consideration. if this side of it had occurred to him, he would have dismissed it as an inevitable factor in any conflict of wills, and a quite negligible factor. "last evening his highness prince peter found it necessary to take the train for a point near the mulkovinian border. we know the mission on which he was bound, and we are also well informed with reference to his future movements. this morning he left bradosk on horseback and rode over to ronda. he left ronda three hours ago and expects to visit two other points during the night. "as i said before, the influence and the activities of prince peter are now of no real consequence. in the face of the magnificent train of events which come to a culminating point to-night, your royal father is impotent, his efforts futile. but still, we do not believe in taking any risks. sometimes the impossible happens. the success of our campaign will be just so much more certain if peter is put out of the way. "the road that he travels to-night runs through thick woods. at a spot well suited to the purpose will be stationed a member of the society of crossed swords, one who has the reputation of being the best marksman in the north provinces. his highness is now beyond reach of any message. even if his own party at serajoz knew of his danger, they could not get a message of warning to him; for at ronda he altered his previous plans and struck out in a new direction. there are no telegraph wires in the section where prince peter rides to-night." he paused in front of her. "the inference," and his voice was cunningly modulated to deepen the effect of his words, "is that your august father will not reach serajoz." olga listened to the recital of this monstrous plan in silence, her mind literally numbed by its unexpectedness and brutality. the one terrible fact obsessed her mind: her father rode that night to his death and no power on earth could save him. she was powerless to exercise her quick woman's wit. she did not attempt to reason. it did not even occur to her to question the truth of what he had told her. the diabolical nature of the plot caused her all the more readily to accept as true his matter-of-fact explanation of it. miridoff had paused, but, as the girl did not speak, he went on in the same deliberate, even tone: "the plan was not of my making. in fact in view of the relations between us, i was opposed to it--at first. i gave my consent knowing that i still had the power to stop the carrying out of that plan. the man selected for the work has gone. it was a wise selection; he is the most determined man we have. there is only one thing that will prevent him from carrying out the mission on which he has been sent. if this ring," he drew a gold band from his finger and held it up before her, "were carried to him, he would put his pistols back in his belt and return forthwith to kirkalisse. a messenger who knows the mountain roads could leave here within the next three hours and arrive in time to save your father's life." all the time he had been talking, olga had sat with head bowed in statue-like rigidity. at last she lifted her head wearily, as if the physical movement were an effort. there was no longer defiance or determination in her glance. a dull fear was there and unwilling acquiescence. she had no other choice. "what is your price?" she asked. miridoff slipped the ring back on his finger. "it will be sent when you are my wife," he said. there was another pause. when olga spoke again her voice was quiet, but had an oddly strained tone. "tell me all," she said. "you have a plan----" "yes, i have arranged everything," replied miridoff. "i have kept before me this consideration, that no hint of what occurs this night must ever be known to others. when the grand duke miridoff weds the princess olga it must be in the cathedral at serajoz with the full sanction and in the presence of his majesty the king. but in the meantime, if the life of your highness's father is to be saved, the link must be forged that will bind you to me. to-night a band of wandering gipsies are camped in the hawk's rest, a short distance from here. i have arranged with the chief of the gipsies that to-night he will marry over the tongs a man and woman who will come to him. the contracting parties will be masked, so that not even the chief himself will know who it is he has joined together. when the ceremony has been performed, this ring is to be handed to him to be carried by one of the young men of the tribe to a certain rendezvous where waits the best marksman in the north country. "i have arranged it in this way," went on miridoff, "to convince you of the sincerity of my intentions. see, i give the ring to you as an earnest of my good faith. after the ceremony you shall hand it yourself to the gipsy chief, and see it passed to the messenger." he looked at her steadily a moment, then went on: "there is one thing else. let me warn you. the gipsy chief is the only one who shares with me the knowledge of where the messenger must go, and he is too completely in my power to divulge the secret--to be amenable to pressure from any source. so you see it is only by obeying me in every particular that you can save your father's life." olga had subsided on the couch, her head resting on her arms. deep fear and a sense of the hopelessness of further struggle against this clever spider who had caught her in his web took possession of her. she knew there was no way out. "the plan i propose is too irregular to please me," pursued miridoff, "but it is the only possible solution. in three hours i must start out on a work of great importance. there is not a priest who could be brought here within the time, and in any case this is the only way that can bind you to me without advertising the method of our union to a gossiping world. marry me to-night and to-morrow you return to kail baleski. it shall be given out that you have been rescued from the brigands who carried you off, and at once our marriage shall be properly solemnised before the patriarch of ironia. is it not a most romantic marriage i am offering you?" olga stood up and faced him. something of all that she was giving up, things known and things hoped for, seemed to present itself to her then in that fleeting moment. she covered her face in her hands. "i will marry you," she whispered. "good!" cried miridoff. "i knew you would see the matter in its right light, my pretty one." then his voice suddenly changed. "but come, no more of this pettishness. you have taken the step now. can you not trust me that you will not regret it?" she remained quite motionless. "i must go now," he went on. "in three hours' time you must be at hawk's rest. you must go alone. my men here will direct you. you will be given a mask." he turned and strode towards the door. arriving there, he paused and turned back. there was a moment's silence. confused and distressed in mind as she was, olga was conscious of a subtle change in his attitude. "olga," he cried, his arrogant composure giving away before a deeper emotion, "although to-night i have it in my power to make and unmake empires, i would rather fail in my mission than lose you. i told you that i would force you to marry me, and now i almost believe i am better satisfied to get you in this way. it has come down from the days of the cave man that an unwilling bride sometimes makes the best wife. measure the depth of my love by the extremes i have adopted to get you!" her words followed hot upon his. "listen, your grace," she cried, suddenly and passionately, "i am prepared to marry you to save my father's life. i do not know if he is really in your power as you say. it may be that you have lied. you are capable of gross trickery. but i can't withhold my consent on such a chance. the possibility of danger to my father is the only consideration. i will marry you, and if i find that you have tricked me--or if any harm befall my father now or at any future time--i swear i will kill you!" chapter xvi the rescuing party "i wonder how much farther we have to go?" fenton voiced the query with rising impatience. for the past three hours they had been following a tortuous trail up and down the mountain-side, and the canadian had chafed at the unavoidable slowness of their march. beside him tramped crane, his head with its flaring mop of red hair bent resolutely forward. ahead of them was the towering figure of take larescu and, dotted back along the path by which they had come, was a long file of hill men. "can't be much farther," said crane. "larescu said we would make it in a little over three hours, and we must have been on the tramp fully that long now. i've come to the conclusion our bulky friend means everything he says. even when he hashes up our proverbs and wise saws, he gets more sense into them than the originators." "larescu is a wonder," affirmed fenton. "talk about organisation! he's got this hill country trimmed into better shape than a political ward in new york. now how do you suppose he found where the princess was being kept?" "well, he had five hours to work in while we were sleeping," said crane. "news travel fast in the mountains. you may not credit it, but a word is passed along faster up here than in a crowded city. these hill people can communicate with each other from one peak to another. fact. they've learned to pitch their voices so high the sound carries to almost incredible distances. i've seen proofs of it. larescu probably has agents at kirkalisse who ferreted out the news for him and then passed it along." they tramped on for a few minutes in silence. "miridoff is up to all the tricks," said fenton finally. "it would never have done for him to have had the princess taken to kirkalisse. by holding her up in this deserted hunting lodge, he keeps himself clear of any blame in case of a miscarriage of his plans. still he has made it easier for us. getting the princess safely away will be a comparatively easy matter now." "i am not so sure of that myself," rejoined crane. "i think this grand ducal enemy of yours has something up his sleeve. in fact, i'm anticipating a stiff fight." larescu, some distance in front of them, had reached the crest of the precipitous mountain-side up which they had so laboriously worked their way. he turned back and stretched out his arm toward the west. on the slope of a distant hill rose the black towers of a building of imposing dimensions. "kirkalisse," said larescu. he regarded the distant castle with a lowering frown. "i have a long score to settle with the master of kirkalisse, a score dating back ten years. the balance is in his favour so far, but perhaps to-night i shall exact heavy payment for the wrongs the grand duke has done!" "are we far from the lodge?" asked fenton eagerly. "my impulsive young friend, accept this assurance that in half an hour her royal highness will be safely in our hands," said larescu. "do not worry. everything is arranged. i have set my hand to the plough--as your proverb goes--and i shall gather no moss." half an hour later, in response to a warning gesture from larescu, they stopped on the edge of a large clearing in the thick forest through which the latter part of their journey had taken them. it was rapidly growing dark, but at the far end of the clearing it was still possible to discern the outlines of a frame building of picturesque design. two paths led to this structure, the one by which they had come and a second and wider road which wound off through the forest in the opposite direction. "your princess is there," whispered crane, pointing to the building. fenton glanced eagerly across the clearing and dimly made out the figure of a man pacing up and down in front of the lodge with a rifle over his shoulder. as he looked, a second figure emerged from the lodge and, after a brief word with the sentry, strode briskly along the second path. there was something familiar about the carriage of this man that won fenton's attention. "crane, that is miridoff," he whispered to his companion, motioning after the receding figure. "i couldn't get a glimpse of his face, but i'm sure it's our man. that path must lead to kirkalisse." crane fingered his revolver with a speculative air. "i'm a fair shot, fenton," he said. "it might save a lot of trouble if i potted him now." "it wouldn't do," replied fenton. "we have no positive proofs of his complicity yet and a murder charge is just as serious a matter here as it is under british law. no, i think we can safely leave the punishment of the grand duke to our doughty larescu." the leader of the hill men turned at this moment and cautiously made his way back to them. "there are but two or three armed men at the lodge," he said. "we can take it without difficulty. i shall spread a line of my men around on all sides. then a quick rush--and her highness is safe once more." crane, who had been regarding the dim outlines of the hunting lodge with interest, suddenly let drop a hasty ejaculation and grasped fenton's arm. with every evidence of excitement, he pointed toward the building. "look at that!" he commanded. at the rear of the lodge the tops of several high trees elevated themselves in restive silhouette against the darkening sky. above the level of the highest tree was a single mast that a casual observer would probably have mistaken for a flag pole. "wireless!" said crane. "there's no mistaking the apparatus. i served as operator on an atlantic steamship for a year and i ought to know a wireless plant when i see one. saturnine sisyphus, we're certainly in luck on this trip, fenton! here we've probably stumbled on the station by means of which miridoff has kept in close touch with the austrians across the border. if we keep our heads now we can find out his whole plan of campaign." crane's discovery necessitated new arrangements for the capture of the lodge. a rush from all sides as larescu had planned would not now serve as it would give the defender an opportunity to send a message across space giving warning of the attack. as crane pointed out, it was necessary to capture or incapacitate the operator before any attempt was made to rush the place. accordingly it was settled that nothing would be done, with the exception of establishing a cordon around the lodge, until crane had had an opportunity to reconnoitre. the englishman cautiously skirted the clearing until he had reached a point in the rear of the building. he investigated the clump of trees, from the midst of which the wireless mast protruded, and found that his surmise had been correct. a thoroughly up-to-date wireless plant had been installed. as he moved quietly about, a light showed in a second story rear window. one of the trees grew close to the building, and crane judged that, by climbing it, he would obtain a view of the lighted room. accordingly he removed his boots and slowly worked his way up the tree to a position where he could see within. a man in uniform sat at a desk with an oil lamp beside him. he was industriously working his key, his gaze fixed the while on a sheet of paper that lay spread out on the table. as far as crane could make out the room was quite bare of other furniture. for several minutes the operator stuck to his key, while not more than twelve feet away, crouching over a branch that bent with his weight, crane watched every move he made with the utmost eagerness. finally the man in uniform stood up and, holding the sheet to the lamp flame, carefully burned it to the last scrap. then he left the room, closing the door after him. crane saw his opportunity. by edging along the limb he could bring himself within arm's length of the window ledge. inch by inch he worked his way on the swaying branch, fearing each second that it would give way under his weight. it held, however, and at last he had the satisfaction of grasping the firm ledge of the window and swinging himself across to it. the window lifted easily enough and crane climbed quietly into the room. he had scarcely reached the floor when the sound of returning footsteps caused him to dash on tiptoe across the room to a commanding position behind the door. it opened and the operator stepped briskly into the room. the latter had almost reached his seat before he became aware of another presence in the room. his eyes opened wide and his jaw sagged with amazement when he saw crane. the latter with a grim frown had stepped between him and the door and was covering him with a revolver. "make a sound and you're a dead man!" said crane, in a shrill whisper. he conveyed his ultimatum first in ironian and then in german. the operator, after the first effects of his surprise had passed, recovered his wits sufficiently to seat himself facing crane. this placed him in such a position that he covered the instrument on the table. divining his purpose to operate the instrument behind his back, crane brought his revolver up to a business-like level and covered his man. "stand up," he ordered. the operator hesitated a moment and then got to his feet. "hands in front of you!" in a trice crane had replaced the revolver in his belt, pinioned one of the operator's hands over the other and bound them with a handkerchief. it was done so neatly that, within a minute from the time the first move was made, the man had been unceremoniously shoved back into his chair with his hands bound in front of him. he appeared thoroughly dazed. then came an unexpected development. a light step sounded outside the door. crane, who was proceeding to gag the pinioned operator, looked up and saw a girl standing in the doorway--a pretty girl who viewed his proceedings with every evidence of astonishment. crane was thorough in his methods. he promptly left the task of trussing up the operator and dragged the girl into the room with more force than ceremony, taking the precaution to close the door and sternly admonishing her the while to keep silent. "not a sound out of you or i'll treat you the same way as i've done marconi here," he said, seating her in the only other chair that the room boasted, and speaking in the native tongue. the girl showed no evidence of fear, despite the rough handling she had received and the grim appearance of the aggressive crane. she sat back quietly enough and watched his movements with keenest interest. keeping a wary eye on his two prisoners the while, crane took up the lamp and signalled with it through the window, moving it backward and forward in front of him several times. he kept this up until convinced that his signal had been noted. then he placed the lamp back on the table and detached two revolvers from his belt. "there's likely to be no end of a shindy downstairs," he said to the girl. "you mustn't get frightened, you know. you won't get hurt. just stay where you are and close your jaw and no harm will come to you." there was a sudden shout, a sound of rushing feet, a shot or two. crane ran from the room and down a flight of stairs that opened before him, shouting at the top of his voice. he found fenton and several of the hill men standing in the doorway. the lodge had been captured without a blow. it was found that there were three men in the place beside the operator. the defenders had made no attempt at resistance, prudently deciding, when the numbers of the attacking party became manifest, that resistance would be useless in any case. they were bound securely in the lodge under guard. the two maids were confined in another room and also guarded. all this happened in the course of ten minutes. "the operator's upstairs, safely trussed," said crane to fenton. "there's a girl there too, but i don't think it can be the princess. hello! here she is herself." anna petrowa, holding the lamp above her head, had appeared on the stairs. she gave a cry of delight when she discerned the fair head of fenton towering above the group of men in the dark hall. "my brave canadian, no time you lost in getting here," she said, coming down the stairs. "how is it that you are here?" demanded fenton in amazement. "the grand duke's orders," replied anna in low tones. "it was thought best that the princess should not be left without companionship. and then i was to keep a close watch on her. but this plan has not been the success. the princess has shut herself up and i have seen her but little." "where is she now?" asked fenton, with all of a lover's eagerness. anna indicated a door leading off from the right of the hall. "you will find her there," she said. then she placed a delaying hand on the arm. "who is the extraordinary person of the very red hair? he made me a prisoner. he is the most rough, the most brutal--but----" "crane!" shouted fenton. "i am going to leave mademoiselle petrowa in your charge. you apparently have amends to make to mademoiselle, who, by the way, has done a great deal for the cause--more than any of us know. could you manage to be polite for a while?" chapter xvii the renunciation at times when the emotion runs high, considerations of a practical, artificial or conventional nature are often lost sight of; everything, in fact, recedes from the mind but the truly essential things. at such times one forgets caste, rejects pride and brushes aside the petty objections and restrictions that custom has hedged around us, and remembers only the deeper instincts that in reality shape one's course in life. olga was disturbed from the sad reverie into which she had fallen on the departure of miridoff by hoarse shouts and the sound of running men without. when, brought to her feet by a knock at her door, she had thrown it open to find fenton there, olga forgot that she was a princess of the royal line, forgot that she had pledged herself to marry the grand duke that very night, forgot that life was sad, cruel, inexorable, forgot everything but that he was there, that she was suddenly glad.... and when fenton saw her standing in the semi-darkness, a slender drooping figure with infinite pathos in her soft violet eyes, he forgot that he had seen her but three times all together, forgot that on their past meeting they had parted with pronounced coolness, forgot that she was born to the purple of royalty, forgot everything but that he loved her and that she was meant to be his.... and so both lost sight of all considerations, practical, artificial or conventional, and remembered the only truly essential thing in life to them. fenton gathered her up in his arms. olga yielded willingly, gladly. such moments, however, are brief. on second thoughts these same considerations of a practical, artificial or conventional nature come trooping back into the mind, stern judges who mercilessly point out the folly of one's course in temporarily forgetting them. fenton, exalted beyond all compare by her unexpected surrender, rained kisses on her hair, her brow, her eyes, her nose, the dimple in her cheek. when he reached her lips, the meaning of it all came back to olga. she began to remember again, her position, her promise--and miridoff. breaking from his embrace with sudden strength, she ran to the couch and threw herself upon it, burying her head in her arms while passionate sobs shook her. from the lofty heights of exultation, fenton descended to the barren plain of uncertainty and bewilderment. manlike he could not understand her sudden change of attitude, and manlike he stood over the couch and looked down at her ruefully and awkwardly. when he essayed to touch her she shrank away from him and her sobs increased in violence. but olga had been trained in a stern school and it did not take her long to conquer her emotion. the spell passed as suddenly as it had come. she sat up and dried her eyes and even (for a girl can remember such things at moments of deepest stress) patted her hair into shape again. "come, sit down beside me," she said quietly and compassionately. "there are many things we must say--and our time, alas, is so short." fenton sat down. he longed to clasp her in his arms again, she looked so pretty and fragile, but something warned him not to do so. olga understood and rewarded him by placing one little hand in his. "it was wrong," she said, looking him frankly in the eyes for the first time. "there can be nothing between us. presently i shall tell you why. but first there are things we must tell each other frankly." fenton sat as if turned to stone. the loving abandon of her welcome had set his heart beating wildly with new hopes and aspirations. now he realised dully that for some reason all hope would be taken from him. "do you love me?" she asked. it was hardly necessary for him to speak. his answer shone in his eyes. "i love you." there was a pause. for a moment, an ecstatic, all-too-brief moment, her head rested lightly against his shoulder. "i shall always have that to remember, to help me," she said, almost in a reflective tone. "and you--you love me?" asked fenton. his throat seemed suddenly parched and words came haltingly. "yes," whispered olga, permitting for a moment the pressure of his arm which had stolen about her--but for a moment only. "i love you. and i am glad of it, even if it is wrong that i should." "i loved you the first time i saw you," he said. "i am not sure when it really started with me, but it must have been the very first time," said olga musingly, almost forgetting the tragic realities of her position in the consideration of a problem so thrillingly important. "i _knew_ when i thought you were making love to that other woman. tell me that you were not." "mademoiselle petrowa!" exclaimed fenton, with a mirthless laugh. "of course not. she's a russian secret service agent and has been working for us. she's wonderful and brave and i admire her a great deal. but----" it is sometimes possible to convey a clearer meaning by what we don't say than by what we might have said. fenton's omission was eloquent and convincing. "i am glad," said olga, smiling her satisfaction quaintly. "she told me a story to-day that i wanted to believe. and now i do." by mutual consent explanations on that point ceased. none further were needed. olga and her lover each knew where the other stood, knew and were happy in the knowledge of the other's love. by mutual consent also they left off for as long as possible any reference to the catastrophe that threatened to wreck their happiness. finally, however, it had to be told. olga, her resolution suddenly breaking, crept into the shelter of his arms when telling of miridoff's cruel and cunning device. the story finished, she threw her arms around her lover's neck and with a paroxysm of weeping implored him to protect her, to save her from the hideous fate that loomed ahead. fenton consoled her with brave words of consolation, while black thoughts filled his mind. a primitive desire to kill the cunning grand duke took possession of him. "don't cry, little girl," he said. "of course there's a way out. you'll not have to marry that black-hearted scoundrel. to-night take larescu will have three thousand men hammering at the gates of kirkalisse. and i personally guarantee that miridoff will not get away alive." but his face belied his words. fenton realised to the fullest how cunningly miridoff had laid his plans. slowly olga extricated herself from his arms and dried her eyes. her courage was coming back. she smiled at him bravely. "i know you would willingly die to save me," she said. "but how would killing this man help me? would it carry the pledge to the assassin who waits at an unknown point to take my father's life? no, dear heart, there is nothing that can be done. the spider has spun his web too cleverly. i--i am entangled." "there will be a way out," said fenton through set teeth. "i will find it. i can't give you up." he seized her roughly in his arms and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. then slowly his hold relaxed. he groaned, miserable and rebellious at his impotence. gently she drew herself away. "we have loved but to lose," she whispered. "courage, my dear. go please, go now. it makes it so hard----" chapter xviii two fight: one falls fenton left the room with his mind filled with surging, angry emotions. for some time he paced up and down in front of the lodge, thinking over what the princess had told him and vainly cudgeling his brain for a plan to circumvent the grand duke. he could not yet accept defeat. instead, he felt confident that there was some way out, that he could save her. the more he struggled with the problem and realised the cunning with which miridoff had made his plans, the greater became his determination. he finally sought out crane and frankly put the facts before him. although he had known the voluble and irascible young englishman for little more than a day, fenton had already come to place the utmost reliance in him. on the tramp that afternoon from larescu's headquarters they had discussed the political situation in ironia, and fenton had unreservedly stated the incidents leading up to the abduction of the princess. crane heard of the latest development with every manifestation of deep anger. but his resentment, after all, had to spend itself in futile threats and mighty sounding oaths; he had no practical suggestions to offer. "the part of it that i can't understand," said fenton finally, "is with reference to the gipsy band who are to perform this infamous ceremony. i thought larescu controlled all the people in the hills." "you'll run into wandering tribes of gipsies in all parts of the balkan countries," replied crane, shaking his head. "they have no nationality. they come and go as they please and know no law but the word of their chief. one of the hill men told me to-night that some of the pesth band were camped over there to the west of us. they'll do anything, these gipsies, if the reward is sufficient or the pressure brought to bear strong enough." "it's my opinion that miridoff is bluffing," declared fenton, clutching at a straw. "he is trying to frighten the princess into marrying him. for all we know, prince peter is now safe at home in serajoz." but again crane shook his head. "i don't think so," he said. "when you know ironia as well as i do, you'll realise that this is exactly what might be expected to happen. prince peter stands in miridoff's path--he must be removed. the princess refuses to marry him--she must be forced. there is no way of warning the prince. if the pledge is not sent in the way prescribed--peter will surely die." hastily, desperately they debated many plans, but discarded them all as either too dangerous or not feasible, and it was with a feeling closely akin to despair that fenton finally realised the time had come for olga to keep the appointment at the hawk's rest--and that he had found no way to save her. then all of a sudden determination came to him. he sprang to his feet and grimly examined his revolvers to see if they were properly loaded. "it may be necessary for the princess to go through with this marriage in order to save her father's life," he declared, with implacable purpose burning in his eyes. "but miridoff shall never return to kirkalisse. that i swear." after arranging with crane to see that olga was escorted to the hawk's rest, fenton set out with a guide for the same place. when he arrived there he sent his guide back and carefully reconnoitred the ground. it was a clearing on the crest of one of the highest hills. it was approached by two paths; one from the hunting lodge, the other from kirkalisse. the latter road ran for a considerable distance along the precipitous side of the mountain. up to a certain point it was wide and level enough. not many yards from the junction the road narrowed till it became little more than a cramped path. the gipsies were camped in the clearing. a large fire blazed in the centre, the flames rising at times almost to the tops of the surrounding trees. fenton decided to station himself as near the clearing as he could without being observed. the surrounding thicket presented ample means for concealment. he finally placed himself close by the path from kirkalisse. no clearly defined purpose had yet formed in his mind. he was prepared to let fate map out his course of action now, and it was probably with an instinctive idea of protecting olga that he placed himself on the path by which miridoff would come. it was very still, save for the low hum of voices in the clearing behind. fenton peered anxiously into the darkness. three or four yards in front of him a bend occurred in the narrow path, and the brush on his left hid the slender ribbon of roadway. to his right was the precipice, a sheer drop of many hundred feet. as he listened, the sound of footsteps came from beyond the bend in the path. they drew closer, and around the bend appeared the figure of a man. the new-comer was muffled in a military cloak, beneath which dangled a sabre. he wore a military cap. fenton recognised miridoff, and instantly the spell of indecision passed. an idea flashed through his mind, determining his course of action. stepping forward, the canadian barred the path. "stop!" he commanded in german. miridoff recognised the voice. "you!" he exclaimed, instinctively drawing back a pace and freeing his sword arm from the folds of the cloak. for a moment the two men regarded each other in tense silence. "we are well met," declared miridoff then. "you have crossed my path once too often. this time i shall finish you!" "well met indeed," said fenton, with a grim laugh that had something of triumph in it--for suddenly there came to him a way to save the princess. "you come just in time, your grace, to enable me to carry out a certain plan. i need----" miridoff flung back his cloak and drew a pistol from his belt. realising that a fraction of a second's delay would cost him his life, fenton hurled himself bodily forward and pinned the grand duke's arms to his sides. the impact carried them back close to the edge of the precipice. the revolver miridoff had drawn fell from his grasp and clattered on the rocky path. "presumptuous, meddling fool!" exclaimed the grand duke, straining to loosen the hold of his young adversary. "it is fitter that you die this way than that i should soil my sword." "trickster, traitor, assassin!" answered fenton, exerting the utmost of his strength to maintain his hold on his powerful adversary. "you'll never live to complete your theft of a bride! before you die--i want you to know--that we took the lodge an hour ago. the wireless is in our hands. before i throw you over the cliff, think of this--your plans will miscarry, you will be remembered in ironia as--the man who tried to sell his country!" fenton's breath had come in puffs; it was difficult to speak when he needed all his energies for action. they struggled back and forth. both were powerful men; miridoff had the advantage in weight and strength, but fenton was the more lithe and active. they were well matched. almost on the edge of the precipice they fought it out, a grim struggle to the death. once fenton's foot slipped over the edge, but he regained his firm footing on the ledge again almost instantly. miridoff, hampered by his cloak, managed to free himself from its folds. it fell under their feet and nearly ended the fight by tripping them both. fenton fought with calculating coolness, but his mind was in a turmoil. if he could master this man the happiness of the princess would be assured, for it would give him an opportunity to carry out the plan that had flashed through his mind a few minutes before. if he failed to conquer the grand duke, then olga was lost. the thought spurred him to something like super-human efforts. he struggled fiercely, animated with a determination to kill his adversary. he became the physical embodiment of that one idea. miridoff must be put out of the way. the darkness closed down more dense than ever over the tightly clenched figures. they swayed this way and that, careless of death that faced them both if they went a foot too far. at intervals fenton caught fleeting glimpses of the red glow which he knew to be hawk's rest, where perhaps olga was now waiting--unconsciously waiting the outcome of the struggle. * * * * * then it became apparent that the equality of the struggle had ceased. one of the antagonists had secured a hold on the other's throat. the beaten man struggled backward to escape from the relentless grip of his opponent. his effort was successful. he broke away free. but his foot was over the edge. his effort to free himself had carried him back too far. an instant he swayed uncertainly on the edge, then fell backward. the victor stood a moment silently glancing into the darkness through which the black, shapeless form had hurtled down. then he turned and picked up the cloak. chapter xix married over the tongs from the blackness of night that had settled down over the mountains, olga emerged into the clear space that was known as hawk's rest, in the centre of which was a blazing fire and about which sat in curious groups the gipsies of the pesth band. the setting was weird enough and fantastic enough to have been transplanted from a past century, when the nomad was legion, and the comprachicos thrived under the wing of royalty. the uncertain play of the flames against the background of tangled firs wrought awesome figures out of the gloom, and, throwing a reddish tinge on the swarthy gipsy faces, rendered them unreal and grotesque. the band were dressed in the picturesque garb of the eastern nomad that has survived the changing influence of several centuries. bedecked in the most brilliant colours, the women decorated by rouge and rings, the men with pistols and daggers, they presented in the flickering light a spectacle that one would never forget. muffled in a dark cloak and masked, the princess stepped into the lighted space near the fire. of the timidity that might have been expected to manifest itself, not a trace was to be found. her step was slow but resolute, and in her whole attitude a calm fearlessness was reflected. truth to tell, olga was as unconscious of external impressions as though she were treading the polished floor of a ball-room. her mind was obsessed with a double fear that weighed upon her consciousness with deadening persistence--fear for her father's life, and fear for herself--afterward. she had no thought of turning back, no sense of self-pity, no idea of the magnitude of her sacrifice. her duty was quite clear, but equally clear was the realisation of what it meant. as she stepped close to the centre of the gipsy ring she mentally bade farewell to youth, hope, love, happiness--everything. the gipsy chief stood beside the fire--tall, withered, white-haired, a wraith of a man in fantastic garb that bespoke his rank. a gipsy chief is more absolute than any king; his word is the law of the band, his will the guiding factor. the attitude of the old gipsy was unmistakably regal. out of the shadows on the opposite side came the figure of miridoff. a mask covered his whole face. he was cloaked and hatted for a journey, and his gait showed haste, even a degree of nervousness. olga went through the ceremony that followed in a daze. standing in front of the hissing, spitting flames, her hand clasped in that of the grand duke and extended over the tongs, she heard the old chief's cracked voice proclaim the unknown words that tied her for ever to the man she had so much reason to fear and hate. as the ritual proceeded, the gipsies--seated far away it seemed to her from the monotonous sound of their voices, though occasionally through the intermittent flash of the flames, their faces appeared to glower directly at her through panes of magic flame--started up a chant. it was a mournful strain, gathering volume as it proceeded and finally culminating in an outburst of sound that expressed triumph and passion. was ever the sacred rite performed under circumstances more repugnant--gipsy tongs for an altar, a sinister gipsy chief for a priest, the wild romany chant for a hymn of gladness, the shrouding darkness of the mountain-side for a cathedral, and the much-feared and much-hated miridoff for a bridegroom! some thought of the incongruity of it all penetrated to olga's mind through the deep fear that had taken hold of her. as the concluding bars of the gipsy ritual rose from around her, she snatched her hand from the grasp of miridoff and tightly clasped her ears to shut out the sound. a sob escaped her. her weakness was but momentary. quickly marshalling her forces of resolution, the princess dropped into the withered hand of the chief the ring which would ensure her father's safety and for which she had sold herself into life-long bondage. the chief transferred it to a husky young gipsy and spoke a few words of instruction. "tell him to hasten," pleaded olga. "he must not fail to carry the pledge to its destination within the specified time! tell him that riches shall be his, untold riches, if he carries out his mission. i promise it." turning to miridoff who was standing by silently and, truth to tell, a little awkwardly, she urged upon him the necessity for haste on the part of the messenger. "i have paid your price," she reminded him. miridoff bowed; but did not speak. taking her by the arm he led her from the hawk's rest, and out along the narrow path by which she had come from the hunting lodge. where the path narrowed so that single file became necessary, he dropped to the rear and they walked on in silence for a spell of perhaps ten minutes. olga felt unutterably weary. mental anguish had drawn heavily on her strength, and the excitement of the day had brought her to the verge of a collapse. as they reached the turn of the broad trail that led up to the lodge, the small remnant of her strength that was left deserted her. she stopped, stretched out one hand for support, and then fell back in a faint. olga came back to life with a strange sense of security and comfort. her head rested on a broad, comfortable shoulder. two arms encompassed her. she was being carried up the steep, winding trail with an ease that bespoke unusual strength in her bearer. too weak to move, too faint even for curiosity, she lay inertly in his arms. she realised dimly where they were when at last they entered the lodge, and it was with a faint regret that she felt herself lowered--so carefully and tenderly--to a couch. deft hands placed and adjusted cushions; there was a sound of much hurrying to and fro, and several voices close at hand. out of the jumble of sounds that registered partially on her slowly reviving senses, came a new voice, sharp and incisive, which said: "hands up!" followed a pause and then a laugh, hearty and spontaneous but restrained, out of deference, she dimly realised, for her condition. then a voice came out of the mists that was very familiar--and also very dear. there was more talk, more laughing, and then full consciousness came back to her with a shock! words had distinctly reached her out of the indistinct babel of sounds, three words that electrified her, sending her heart beating wildly. "miridoff is dead," someone had said. olga would have spoken, but found that weakness and excitement had combined to render her powerless either to move or speak. she heard the familiar and dear voice--and now she realised why it was dear, and just how dear it was--this time speaking from very close at hand. "hand me the cordial, crane," it said. then an arm was slipped under her shoulders, and she was raised slightly from her recumbent position while a spoon was inserted between her lips. the cordial revived her wonderfully, but she did not open her eyes. perhaps it was because she found the pressure of that strong arm so comforting. "hold on, fenton," said the sharp and incisive voice. "aren't you kind of making that business of supporting the invalid a bit too realistic? you act more like a lover than a nurse!" and then came the astounding reply: "hang it, crane, can't i hug my own wife?" chapter xx the plot discovered olga slowly sat up. the room, she realised, was now empty save for the man who knelt beside her couch; a man in a long military cloak, that belonged, she knew, or had belonged, to her arch-enemy, now her husband. but the man wearing the cloak was not old, dark, and heavily whiskered. on the contrary, he was young, fair, and without a hair on his face. donald fenton sat on the floor beside her, in miridoff's cloak, and he it had been who had said, "miridoff is dead!" olga gazed at him in bewilderment. "the duke, where is he?" she questioned faintly. "he is not here," said fenton. there was something strangely thrilling about this handsome young alien kneeling before her. it was perhaps the rapt way in which he was regarding her; almost as though he thought she belonged to him. his eyes were full of some secret that he wanted to share with her, a secret that already she intuitively seemed to understand. "have i been dreaming?" she asked. "did i really go to-night to that place where all those dreadful people were, or was it just a dream?" "you were really there," replied fenton. his tone was quite calm, but that secret was burning in his eyes. "then where is the grand duke? and my father--will he----" "his highness will be quite safe," fenton assured her. "but as for miridoff, he is dead!" his hand reached out and took possession of hers. it was quite respectfully done, as though he sought to convey sympathy, assurance. she made no effort to withdraw her hand. in a few words he told her of the meeting with miridoff, of the struggle on the cliff side, and of the ending, when the grand duke, losing his balance on the edge, fell backward and down into the abyss. "by a direct dispensation of providence, his hat and cloak were left," he went on. "i realised that if his highness, your father, were to be saved, it was necessary for the wedding to go on. so i donned the cloak, hat and mask, and took miridoff's place." there was a tense silence. the girl covered her face, scarlet with confusion and a strange new emotion, in her hands. fenton struggled to his feet and gazed down at her for a moment with the most wonderful tenderness in his eyes and a sad smile of renunciation on his lips. then he started to pace the room, quickly, fitfully, nervously, a stern mental struggle showing in his face. finally he stopped in front of her and said, slowly and quietly: "a wedding over the tongs is considered binding. we are married in the eyes of the law, perhaps even in the eyes of the church. but it can quite easily be set aside. i knew that, of course. i was quite prepared to step aside--so you must not let this worry you!" the girl raised her head and gazed at him intently for a moment. then she stood up and faced him. "do you want the marriage set aside?" she asked. a dull flush spread over fenton's face. he made as though to clasp her in his arms, then checked himself with an effort at repression, only to yield again to the impulse. she felt herself drawn towards him. "olga, i dare not answer you!" he cried. "i meant to be firm, but i can only remember that for a time at least you are my wife!" he rained kisses on her face and hair and neck. it was a full minute before she succeeded in drawing herself away--and then it was only to arm's length. fenton had expected a storm of indignant protest. he saw instead a tremulous smile, a radiant flush, and eyes that were filled to overflowing with happiness. and he heard her say: "if there is any question as to the legality of the marriage, had you not better find a priest?" * * * * * fenton's arrival at the lodge, with the princess in his arms, had created a sensation, to say the least. it was not until he had removed his mask at crane's strident command, that his real identity was discovered. when it developed that the canadian and olga were actually married, crane retired to the operator's room above in a state of thorough mental mystification. he tramped in heavily and sat himself down in his chair, quite ignoring mademoiselle petrowa who was seated at the other side of the table; which was crane's usual way with women. the dancer and crane had been thrown together continuously since the arrival of the rescuing party at the lodge. anna had made certain tentative advances of a mildly flirtatious character, and crane had responded by bullying her most ferociously; which, after all, is not so far removed from love-making. strangely enough, anna had not really understood his attitude. she was puzzled by this stormy, red-haired individual, who ordered her about as though she were a stage-hand. she had acknowledged to herself that he was an interesting type of man, a compelling type. when he had smiled--he had a most engaging smile--she had felt strangely attracted. he coolly removed his coat and collar and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. then he produced a pipe that he had found somewhere in the lodge, a most vile one, too, and settled down for a comfortable smoke. through the haze that surrounded him he nodded frowningly at his companion. "pretty business, downstairs," he said, in an aggrieved tone. "here's this fellow, fenton, who knows the work we've got ahead of us and yet goes and wastes time getting married." "married!" cried anna, in genuine amazement. "married," responded crane with confirmatory disgust. "it seems he chucked miridoff off the cliff and then took his place at the ceremony. the happy couple are downstairs now." there was a period of silence. anna had been well aware of the state of affairs between fenton and olga, but its sudden _denouement_ almost took her breath away. crane studied her shrewdly out of the corner of his eye. "just the same i admire the beggar's nerve!" he said finally. "he'll be putting ideas in other heads. now if an ordinary fellow like fenton can pick up with a princess, perhaps even a down-at-heels engineer could aspire to--er----" anna laughed, a rippling laugh thai expressed enlightenment and much satisfaction. she had seen beneath the armour of bluster, and knew that in reality crane would be as wax in her facile hands. from that moment dated the ascendency of anna. crane frowned with offended dignity, but anna continued to laugh and to regard him in a way that said, plainer than words, "at last i have found you out." crane's frown was like a threat from the commandant of the citadel after he has hauled down his flag and surrendered the keys. perceiving something of this, crane turned hastily to the wireless, glad of an interruption provided by a faint click that gave notice of an arriving message. for a moment he regarded the keys with casual interest, then the expression of his face changed to one of surprise, concern, and finally to almost incredulous delight. for ten minutes he alternately received and sent replies, feverish interest showing in every line of him. what the news could be, flashing back and forth across space, to cause such concern, his companion could not conceive. she watched him with keen expectancy. completing the sending of a final message, crane suddenly sprang up from the instrument. dragging her from her chair, he waltzed her round the room hilariously, winding up the performance by lifting her bodily to a seat on the table. standing before her he declaimed excitedly: "you've witnessed the making of history, girl! a most stupendous piece of luck has come our way. i've blundered on to the means to bring ironia into line. to-morrow we'll be at war with austria!" and he danced up and down the room, his red face redder than ever. the first flush of his excitement over, he picked up his pipe again and began to pull at it furiously. "pardon the exuberance," he said. "i felt so pleased with myself and everything in general that i simply had to do something. you see i've got an idea, a scheme that's going to take some working out. it's a big idea, too. didn't know i had it in me. but, look here, i can't leave the room for fear the operator over the line there in austria takes it into his head to let out some more state secrets. now run down and order fenton to come up here--there's a good girl." when anna had gone, crane did some hard thinking. he had the faculty of quick calculation. it had instantly occurred to him how the message he had waylaid might be turned to good account, and, in a dim way too, he gained a superficial understanding of the details necessary for the success of his scheme. swiftly he turned and touched the keys. in a few moments he was in touch with the austrian station from which the first message had come. so intent was he on the business in hand that he paid no attention when the others entered the room. "where exactly is the ironian regiment ready to join yours?" this was the question he sent. in a moment he got his answer; and, having assured the officer with whom he was in communication that his earlier request should be attended to, he turned and nodded to fenton. "fenton," he said, "i've just received a message that reveals the whole of miridoff's plan. it came from austrian headquarters ten miles across the line. an hour ago, in accordance with a pre-arranged plan, a thousand austrian troops moved out of camp in the direction of the russian frontier. the plan, as i understand it now, is this." he grasped a piece of paper and roughly sketched a map of the district. "here's our present position approximately," he explained. "we're about three miles from the frontier. now here's the bhura river, which serves as the dividing line between the two countries. five miles up the river, a small tributary branches off from the bhura into ironian territory, but if you cross the bhura just above the point where the tributary stream starts you find yourself in russia; and the tributary itself flows between russia and ironia. an ironian regiment, which has been stationed on the frontier, is now camped close to the junction point. "the plan is simplicity itself. the austrians march until they reach this junction of the two streams. then they signal to the ironians, who are officered by men in miridoff's pay. a joint raid across the river into russian territory follows, with the burning of a village or two. the russian troops will soon drive the raiders back, of course, but the mischief will be done. ironia will have committed an open act of war against russia." "a diabolically clever scheme," exclaimed fenton. "not even the death of miridoff can stop it. certainly we can do nothing now." "can't we?" cried crane triumphantly. "by the roaring bull of bashan, we can stop it! i have a plan that will just reverse things completely. look at this map again! two miles west of the first tributary there is another stream branching off the bhura in the same direction as that higher up the river. if the austrians in the darkness were to mistake this stream for the one higher up they would cross the bhura there and so get into ironian territory instead of russian! now, just supposing that they made this mistake, they would run right into an ironian hamlet consisting of a church and a dozen houses or so. in accordance with instructions they would proceed to set fire to this, with the idea that it was a russian village. ironians, conveniently stationed there for the purpose--under our friend larescu--would promptly attack the invaders and drive them back across the river. the same result follows as is expected if the plan of miridoff is carried out, except that the position of the countries will be reversed. austria will have committed an open act of war against ironia. it will act like a spark on dry tinder. ironia will blaze up and war will follow immediately!" "that is all very plausible," said fenton, "but the possibility of the austrians crossing at the wrong stream is negligible. their plans will be too carefully laid for any miscarriage." "they will cross at the wrong place!" declared crane triumphantly. "the wireless message that first came through was from the officer in command of the austrians. he's new to this part of the country, and, as the bhura is starting to flood, he wanted miridoff to send someone over to guide him to the best junction-point with the ironian troops. i wired back that one neviloff was leaving at once for the purpose. well, what with the darkness of the night, the floods and the similarity of the two streams, neviloff will see that they get over the wrong one." "neviloff?" the question came from fenton and anna simultaneously. "exactly. you see, it occurred to me that miridoff would have been most likely to send a man he could rely on for a mission of this kind, and the name is probably familiar to the austrians." "do you mean that you intend to go yourself?" asked fenton in surprise. crane nodded. "i speak both german and ironian, and there ought to be a suitable uniform around this place somewhere. well, i ride over to tisza," he indicated a point on the map just across the border, "and report to the austrian commander there. luckily i've been all along the bhura on a surveying trip. what would be easier on such a night than to make a mistake and bring them over the river too soon--over into ironia, where the tribesmen of take larescu will be waiting to provide a suitable welcome? the plan can't go wrong." "you propose to decide the fate of ironia on a gambler's throw," said fenton. "it's a wonderful scheme, crane. but, man, do you realise what it would mean to you? you take your life in your hands. if they find you out they'll shoot you on the spot. it will be a hungarian troop sent for this work, and the magyars are a vindictive lot. but even if you escape detection at first they would certainly suspect when they discovered they had been led astray." "no danger at all," said the englishman easily. "i've got it all figured out, and there's not one chance in a hundred of failure. when the fighting starts, i slip away easily enough. now, fenton, you get started on your part of the undertaking, which is to have larescu on hand with a couple of thousand of his men to drive the austrians back. we'll have to take a chance on the ironian troops not moving out. i don't think they will. in all probability miridoff intended to ride over there and direct things himself. not hearing from him, they will wait for further orders." fenton grasped crane's hand warmly. "phil, it is worth trying," he said. "if it succeeds, the credit for deciding the final outcome of the great war may belong to you. i wish i could go with you." "when mr crane returns i shall tell him how wonderful it is i think him to be," said anna, shaking his hand in turn. "i'm coming back right enough," replied crane, with a steady regard, and retaining her hand the while. "and when i do, i shall have something myself to say to you." half an hour later, warmly cloaked, and booted and spurred, crane rode down the mountain-side toward the bhura river. looking back he could see a beacon light burning brightly on one of the highest peaks, and he knew that larescu was gathering his band for the night's work. chapter xxi planning a future as the hours passed the hill country awoke to restless activity. on several prominent peaks the beacon fires blazed, summoning the followers of take larescu. from all sides they began to troop in, silent, grotesque, armed to the teeth. the glen, along the ridge of which fenton had carried his bride earlier that night, was soon crowded with the hill men. by midnight more than a thousand had assembled, and from all directions they were still coming at the urgent summons of the flaring beacons. take larescu took charge of the situation and skilfully wrought order out of chaos. he organised his followers into detachments, and to each allotted positions along the stretch of foot-hills where the austrians would be awaited. on receiving their instructions from the gigantic master of ceremonies, the detachments moved off into the enshrouding darkness as silently as they had come. the oddly garbed figures coming and going in the flickering light of torches, the war-like gestures, made the whole proceedings seem a phantasm of the imagination, a wild, strange dream. fenton, wearing the military cloak of miridoff, watched proceedings from a vantage point in the rear. he had early found that take larescu was master of the situation, and had discreetly withdrawn into the background. larescu had fought through several campaigns, and had gained a reputation as the napoleon of mountain warfare. he could be counted upon to give the austrians a warm reception. a light touch on the canadian's arm caused him to turn. olga had come quietly behind him. she was muffled snugly and warmly in a heavy cloak with a hood, so that fenton could discern little else but a pair of glowing eyes. "we have much to talk about, my lord," she said happily, placing an arm through his. "could you not give me a few minutes now?" "i am at your service for eternity," he replied. "there is nothing for me to do here in any case. larescu has taken everything into his own hands." the night air was cold. fenton guided his wife up a steep and rocky path that led to the foot of the beacon light, in which the fire was now dying down. at the foot was a smooth rock of some size, and here they seated themselves. fenton's arm found its way protectingly around the slender form of his princess-bride, and the lovely hooded head nestled back against his shoulder. "i have won you after all!" exclaimed the canadian exultingly. "it is hard to realise that you are really my wife--and yet i felt right from the first that nothing could keep us apart. we were intended for each other, even if half the globe did separate us." "one can see the hand of fate in it all," whispered olga. "i think it must have all been planned by one who is mightier than we are. for you see i had made up my mind to give you up. nothing could have induced me to marry you, dear, of my own free will." "olga!" cried fenton indignantly. "then you don't love me after all? if you really loved me, nothing could have kept you from me in the end." "yes, dear boy, i loved you--from the first, i think," she replied, looking up. seating directly beneath the beacon, they were partly in the shade, and fenton could not see her very clearly, but he discerned enough of the loving message in her eyes to bring about an extended interruption of the conversation. "that will do, donald," she said finally. then she laughed--the happy, light laugh of one who loves and is loved, which begins without cause and ends as suddenly as it begins. "it is the first time i have said your funny name, husband mine. did i say it right?" "i hope i never hear anyone else uttering the name," said fenton ecstatically. "after hearing it on your lips it would seem profanation from any other source." "it is rather a nice name, although it seemed so strange at first," she said judicially, as she repeated it over several times almost in a whisper. "i used to wonder if i could ever come to call you that." "now you've given yourself away," cried fenton triumphantly. "if you wondered that, you couldn't have made up your mind that you would give me up." "i have indulged much in day dreams since i met you, dear," she said, "but--it would have made no difference. my father would never have consented to my marrying you, not even if you had saved his life many times and had been a thousand times too good for an ignorant little ironian princess--as you are. and i would never have disobeyed him. you do not understand us, my own. we ironians are bound by custom, by traditions of which you have no conception in your free country. it would have broken my heart, but--i would have remained princess olga all my life." fenton was silent, pondering this thought, terrifying to him even in negative perspective. "but i am now quite free in my conscience," she went on. "i thought to save my father's life by marrying the man i feared, and the good father of all gave me instead the man i loved. it must have been mis will that i should come to you. and so i look forward to the future before us with no misgivings, dark though it may be at times. and i am so happy." there was another and longer interruption. the suggestion of future troubles contained in her words was welcome to fenton, for it promised an opportunity to protect her, to assert his right and power to shield her. his arm about her tightened almost fiercely. "i begin to see that after all i owe a lot to miridoff," he said. "you will have to take me away from ironia," said olga, a little out of breath from the ardour of her husband's embrace. "i could never go back to court. my father will refuse to forgive me at first, and will perhaps talk of having our marriage set aside. but in time he will perhaps learn to forgive his wayward girl." she paused for a moment. "you see what you have done," she went on with a gaiety that did not entirely mask the strain of sadness beneath. "tell me, my lord and master, what you are going to do with me now? i begin a new life with you." "the future will be in your hands as much as in mine," replied fenton. "when the war is over we shall travel all over the world. then will come the question of settling down, of building a permanent nest. i hope when the time comes you will have found no place more to your liking than my own country." "i would go anywhere with you," she said confidently. "i have made up my mind on one thing, never to let you out of my sight. if you go where the fighting is to-night i go too." "that you do not," said fenton, laughing with cool masculine assumption. "darling, i am going to take you back at once to the lodge, and you must go right to bed and to sleep. you need rest. and in the morning i shall bring you news of the repulse of the invaders." "no," said olga determinedly, "i could not sleep. i must go with you. there will be no danger. there are many women down there in the glen. and, see--i came prepared. i shall be quite safe with you in this costume." she threw back her cloak and stood revealed in the dress of a woman of the hills. she made a pretty gipsy figure in her bright-coloured garb. fenton took her face in both his hands and shook his head at her adoringly, submissively. "you shall have your own way," he said, "in this and, i am afraid, in most things. i begin to realise how well fitted you are for the new world, where women have found the way to get everything they want." they returned slowly to the glen below, and larescu greeted fenton with a roar of exultation. "they come!" he cried. "one of my men has brought the word. the austrians are crossing the river!" chapter xxii ironia invaded the austrian cavalry regiment, which had ridden out of tisza shortly before midnight, with crane in the van, struck the bhura river a mile below the point where the first tributary branched off. the night was so dark that it was impossible to see very far ahead even with the assistance of the torches that a few of the troopers had attached to the ends of their lances. the roads were so muddy that but slow progress was made. evidences of the floods farther up the river had already been encountered at points where the road ran close to the river banks. crane reined in his horse and turned to the officer who rode beside him. "a small stream runs south from the bhura a mile ahead and it is there we should cross," he said in german, "but i am doubtful if it will be possible to get over. see, the water is rising higher all the time. there is a bridge not a hundred yards ahead of us--unless the rising water has already swept it away. i propose that we cross there. it may be impossible higher up." "it is well advised what you suggest," replied the officer. "i am worried, however, about the possibilities of the return trip. suppose the floods rise so rapidly that it will be impossible to recross the river? we should be trapped on russian soil!" crane shrugged his shoulders. "our orders cover only the advance," he said. "after we have carried out that which has been entrusted to us--the return is strictly our business. for the mission on which we are bound, it might be better if none of us returned. austrian and ironian troops massacred on russian soil would surely bring about war." "i don't fear to die," said the officer. "but i would prefer to fall in open battle and not in an obscure border affray. but, as you say, we have our orders to follow. nothing else need count. god! it is dark! a horrible night for our purpose, neviloff!" "an admirable night," said crane. "we can carry out our raid under the cover of this darkness and get safely back across the border without loss. if the floods let us, that is." "hein! we are into the water now," ejaculated the officer, reining in his horse. "the road is low here and the water has come up over it," said crane, peering intently ahead. "but the gods are with us. i can see the bridge ahead; it is still holding. we had better get across while we may." the troop clattered across the bridge at a smart gallop and turned up a road on the ironian side of the bhura which was still quite dry. ten minutes brought them to the first stream. it was swollen with the rising water, but, being only a narrow creek, was still fordable. "across there is russia," said crane, pointing over the stream. "my troops are crossing some miles below and will join us near the first village. we must lose no time. every minute now lessens our chances of getting back over the bhura alive." "it's strange," said the officer. "i didn't think we were so close to the russian frontier. are there not two streams branching south from the bhura?" "yes," replied crane hastily, "there is another stream behind us. we passed it some time before we reached the flooded section." orders were passed along the line of troops and the work of crossing the turgid stream began. the horses balked at the brink and had to be beaten and spurred into the swirling flood; so that the passage of the regiment was a noisy one with much shouting and cursing and snapping of whips. on the other side the troops formed up and followed crane along a narrow lane that led back on a slowly ascending scale toward the foot-hills. almost before they knew it, the regiment had ridden into a small hamlet. darkened houses lined each side of the road, and just ahead of them loomed the spire of a church. the noise of the galloping horses aroused no signs of life, and this made crane feel certain that they had reached the appointed place. it had been arranged that larescu was to warn the villagers to make good their escape. the troops set about their work with eagerness, even with noisy gusto. they broke in doors and windows and set fire to the houses. soon one end of the village was in flames, and in the bright light that suffused the whole, the fact that the village was deserted became apparent. the officer in command, plainly uneasy, rode up to crane, who had kept in the van with his eyes open for a chance to make good his escape. the austrian was clearly suspicious. "not a soul in the place," he said. "why not? someone carried word of our plans ahead of us; that must be it. what's this?" the rattle of musketry broke out ahead of them. some of the men, getting in advance of the line, had been fired on from the bush in which the long, single street of the village terminated. as if by magic, though no one knew whence it came, the word passed down the ranks: "ironian troops are firing on us." and, as a natural corollary, the most discerning saw and voiced what had happened. "we have burned an ironian village," said the officer who rode by crane. the latter sensed trouble. "no you don't," came sharply from the austrian, as crane put spurs into his horse. but the englishman was putting yards and more yards between him and the officer. he did not hesitate now. he knew that his safety depended upon his ability to get away at once. kicking the steel into his horse's flanks, he started into a wild gallop. guttural but loud shouts behind him warned him of impending retribution--if they could shoot straight. instinctively he dropped flat over his horse's neck. shots rang out and one bullet ploughed through his hair, touching and grazing his forehead in its passage. the blood trickled down over his brow and filtered over his eyes. he brushed it away and found he had not been badly hurt. but a moment later another shot apparently hit his horse, for the animal screamed, stumbled, and lunged forward on its knees. crane hurtled over its head and came down with a thud on the rough muddy road. chapter xxiii crane's escape when crane returned to consciousness he found himself lying in a cramped and painful position on a rough clay surface. he fell into a violent fit of coughing. the atmosphere about him was smoke-charged and stiflingly close and hot. a steady, crackling sound above gradually impressed itself upon his groping mind with startling import. he was lying under the shelter of a burning building. after many futile attempts, crane managed to struggle into a sitting position. the light from the burning roof provided sufficient illumination to enable him to see that the hamlet was deserted and given over to the ravages of the fire which had gained such headway that to remain longer where he was would be fatal. the wall above him might crumble in at any time. breathing had become difficult and painful. the smoke that filled his lungs shook him with rasping, suffocating spells of coughing. dimly he heard sounds of receding conflict beyond the village. crane struggled to his feet and lurched weakly forward, blinded with the smoke. next moment, overcome with the intense heat, he fainted dead away. it was some time after that crane again regained consciousness. this time he was lying on the ground, his head reclining comfortably on a pillow made of some folded garment. a water-soaked bandage encircled his brow, giving inexpressible relief. he attempted to pull himself together and sit up, but desisted from the effort with an involuntary groan. "hello, here's old crane coming around after all," said the voice of fenton, somewhere close at hand. "right as rain in a minute," said crane weakly. then, after a pause, "where am i?" "don't know exactly myself," said fenton. "we got you out of the burning village just in the nick of time and carried you back into the woods here. how are you feeling now?" "a little brandy would make a new man of me. any handy?" a flask, containing some raw, red-hot ironian equivalent, was produced and a liberal measure poured down his throat. crane coughed, spluttered and finally sat up, little the worse for wear, but still weak and decidedly giddy in the head. "what happened?" he demanded. "everything went off as per schedule," said fenton. "the austrians started to set fire to the village, and then larescu and his men opened fire on them. the invaders put up a short fight and retired with more precipitancy than order. last i saw of it, they were headed for the river with the hill men in hot pursuit. if the river has continued to rise, the austrians will have some difficulty in getting back to their own side. i didn't join in the chase as i was getting anxious about you. luckily, mademoiselle petrowa found you and managed to drag you out of the road just before the front of a burning hut collapsed on you." "mademoiselle petrowa! now what, on the word of a bald-headed friar, was she doing there?" exclaimed crane. a soft voice, proceeding from some point close behind him, spoke up. "it is indeed the great pleasure that mistaire crane has recovered. one judges from his choice of words that he is feeling much the better." "i have a double duty to perform then--to thank you for saving my life and to lecture you for your folly in being where you could do it," said crane, with a return of his habitual manner. "my good friend, the brave mistaire crane will please forget the thanks and save the lectures until he is stronger," insisted anna. "if i have been foolish, it has been in the best company. her highness was helping in the search for you." "yes, they both insisted on coming along," put in fenton. "i had the greatest difficulty in keeping them off the firing-line. if all the women of ironia are as fiery as the pair i've had on my hands to-night, i shall feel the deepest compassion for any army that attempts the invasion of the country!" "i'll never forgive myself for this night's work," said crane dejectedly. "i bungled things badly in not getting away in time. then mademoiselle has to risk her very valuable life to save my very worthless one----" it was still dark. a soft hand from somewhere was slipped confidingly into his. crane did not finish the sentence. a moment later a gipsy-clad girl, who had been sitting silently by during the dialogue, rose unobtrusively and led fenton away. "i am glad," whispered the princess. "i don't mind confessing now that i have been very jealous of your mademoiselle petrowa." * * * * * with the first light of dawn came take larescu, an unsheathed sword in his hand. the gigantic leader of the hill men was mud-stained and dishevelled, but thoroughly well pleased with himself. "not an austrian remains on the sacred soil of our ironia," he declared, mopping his brow with a bright silk handkerchief, drawn from his belt, "except a hundred or so who will never go back. and more good news for you, my young friend. a party of my men have burned kirkalisse to the ground. everything comes to him who strikes while the iron is hot." for a moment fenton said nothing. then: "kirkalisse burnt. miridoff dead. austrian invasion of ironian soil. ironian rout of the austrians. this is news. it must be got to serajoz, and that at once." "as to the raid of the austrians," replied the brigand chief, "i have already arranged that part of it. messengers have been sent east, west and south. all ironia will know within the next twenty-four hours that our country has been invaded, and that means----" "that war is certain," fenton finished the sentence spiritedly. neither spoke for a second. then the hill leader drew fenton closer and whispered to him: "we captured several of miridoff's men at kirkalisse." "yes. what did you find out?" "they told us all they knew. one of them was the young gipsy who had been sent with a token--the princess's ring, was it not?--which, as i was able to understand it, was to stop a proposed assassination of prince peter. but he had not been able to find his man, to warn him." fenton started. in a moment he visualised all that this item of news meant. was, then, miridoff's death of no avail? "do you mean, then," he asked, "that the assassin has done his work?" "no. prince peter, it appears, changed his plans and returned to serajoz by another route." "thank god! then everything will be all right." "i don't know," said larescu, shaking his shaggy head. "the assassin has followed him on the road. but i think the prince had start enough, from what i hear, to get to serajoz a good few hours before the assassin could come up with him. nevertheless, someone should go to the capital immediately." "yes, you are right," broke in the canadian. "i shall go myself. find me a guide back through the mountains." chapter xxiv the new king king alexander of ironia stood in an embrasure of the royal council room. he appeared to be gazing over the crowded, turbulent lodz, but in reality he saw nothing; nor did the wild clamour that rose from the mob-ridden square in front of the palace reach his ears. the king stared into space while angry emotions ran riot in his mind. adamant determination, black anger and futile longing for strength to combat his aroused subjects, filled the brain of the baffled monarch. a truly royal figure he appeared, standing there alone by the window--arms folded on his breast, mouth set in ominous lines, staring out into space as silent and as motionless as bronze. back in the council room a number of men were seated around a long table, conversing in low tones and furtively regarding the solitary figure of the monarch. "his majesty will never give in," said danilo vanilis, the shrewdest and strongest of the king's councillors. "i know him. he has sworn not to fight potsdam--and he will die rather than break his pledge." "but he can't resist longer," interjected another. "the austrian invasion has stirred the country up from one end to the other. the army clamours for war. officers, who have been known to favour the austrian cause, have been forcibly ejected. there is not a man left in ironia to back the king. he must give in." "look at him," said vanilis. "there he stands, like a lion at bay; see the poise of his head, the set of the lips, the brooding light in the eyes. alexander would stand fast if the whole world took sides against him; he would fight single-handed against the hosts of the archangel. it is as pitiable as it is strange that such determination, such grand devotion, should have found its vent only in upholding a tradition!" "still more strange that the austrians should have committed this open act of war," whispered a third. "it was rumoured that miridoff had a carefully concocted scheme that would inevitably result in plunging us into war with the russians. then, like a bolt from the blue, comes this mad exploit of the austrians. and, strangest of all, miridoff himself has disappeared." "it can only be understood when it is explained that it occurred in the mountains," said a fourth. "anything can happen there. take larescu led the force which drove the austrians back over the bhura. mark my word, larescu is at the bottom of this. and, what is more, i am convinced that miridoff has been killed." "and not too soon!" a murmured chorus of assent ran around the board. vanilis, after a pause, went on, speaking in a low tone: "it is strange that peter has not returned. he was to have been with us. you all heard the rumour that an attempt would be made to assassinate him on his way back. it cannot be that----" he paused. there was no need to finish the sentence, for the faces of all the company advertised the fact that the same fear had entered the mind of each man there. it was a disquieting thought; for all men recognised now that the strong hand of prince peter was needed at the helm. "gentlemen!" the king had faced about. slowly, with white, set face and dignified stride, his majesty walked back to the head of the table. he glanced coldly about the board. "you have demanded that we sign this monstrous paper," he said, his voice hard. "an ungrateful country clamours for war. our word has been pledged that ironia shall not join in the war against the german empires. that word must stand. sirs, we refuse absolutely to sign this iniquitous declaration!" "recollect what this refusal means, sire," urged vanilis. "the army is determined. even the household guards have joined in the clamour. sire, your life might even be placed in jeopardy?" "our life is of no value beside our honour," said alexander, with dignified scorn. he reached into the breast of his uniform and drew out a document, which he threw, almost contemptuously, on the table before him. "there is our answer. the hand of alexander will never sign the order that declares this war. but, sirs, if on war you are bent, war you shall have. we gladly lay down the distasteful task of ruling a nation of ingrates." the men round the table sat silent. but each of them knew that the paper was the king's abdication! as he turned the sound of sudden tumultuous cheering came up to them from the streets below. it was almost as though the news of the stubborn king's dramatic exit had been translated by some speedy telepathy to the eager crowds without. alexander frowned bitterly and turned back to the silent company about the council table. "they cheer now," he said grimly. "what will they do after your mad determination and their lust has flooded the country in blood--and german uhlans ride down the lodz? sirs, i have warned you. the ruin of ironia be on your heads!" "we do not fear that!" cried vanilis. "we fight for the provinces that were stolen from us, and god will be with us." alexander did not reply. he walked slowly from the room, head held proudly high, one hand clenched across his breast, the other pressed tightly on his sword hilt. "the king is dead," uttered one of the men, almost with awe. "long live the----" "long live king peter!" cried another, with enthusiasm. for a door at the other end of the hall had opened to admit the prince. his sudden arrival was the cause, obviously, of the clamour that had broken out in the square below. prince peter was flushed with rapid riding and spattered with mud. it was clear that he had ridden far and fast to attend this momentous conference. "gentlemen, it is war!" he cried, with high enthusiasm. "the country through which i have come is literally ablaze. nothing can hold us back now. austria has struck the first blow. and i bring you news. the russian armies move on mulkovina to-morrow. ironia must declare herself to-day." danilo vanilis, sitting at the end of the table, rose and held a paper out toward him. "all that is needed is the signature of his majesty the king. sign, sire!" peter gazed at the other for a moment, growing wonderment on his face. then he glanced quickly around the crowded board. "alexander abdicated five minutes ago. king peter now rules in ironia," announced vanilis with a low bow. peter was a man of quick comprehension and decision. he grasped the pen. "that king is fortunate," he declared, "whose first duty is to fight a cause so dear to the hearts of the people over whom he has been called to rule! to-night, sirs, we leave for the front!" chapter xxv the assassination events moved fast in ironia. at five o'clock peter was publicly declared king, the announcement being received with manifestations of the wildest joy in serajoz. at five-thirty an official statement of ironia's intentions was communicated to the ambassadors of austria, germany and turkey, and their passports were handed to them. at six o'clock the first regiment marched out of the capital for the front, through streets lined with deliriously happy multitudes. the work of mobilisation was begun in feverish haste. king peter spent three hours directing the efforts of the general staff and in conference with the leading bankers. as he worked, however, the new monarch never for a moment lost sight of the grim spectre that had haunted him for two days. varden had brought him word of the abduction of olga just as he was preparing for his trip to the frontier. since then he had heard no news of her. a spartan in everything else, peter had been the most loving and indulgent of fathers. olga, left an orphan when less than a year old, had soon gained complete possession of her father's heart. he had pampered and petted her in quite as complete a degree as any fond parent that ever ruined a child in sheer blindness of affection; but olga, having one of those rare natures that cannot be spoiled, even by parental indulgence, had developed greater stores of sweetness and grace in the strong light of her father's love. it can be surmised, therefore, that when the news of the abduction of the princess had reached him he had been thrown into a ferment of fear; but, knowing how much the welfare of ironia depended upon him, peter had delayed his departure only long enough to issue instructions for the pursuit of her abductors. the news awaiting him on his return had been disquieting. no direct clue as to her whereabouts had been found, although there was plenty of evidence to show that the abduction had been the work of brigands from the hills. it was with a heavy heart, therefore, that peter applied himself to the multitudinous duties devolving upon him with his sudden accession to the throne of ironia on the eve of her entry into the war. outside the demonstration continued, growing in enthusiasm as hour succeeded hour. military headquarters were besieged by men begging for an opportunity to enlist. a statue in the square before the royal palace, representing the lost provinces, was literally covered with flowers. the public streets were rendered quite impassable by the masses of exuberant citizens who loudly acclaimed the new king, and clamoured for a sight of him. about the time that his majesty rose from the desk to which he had been chained for three hours of unremitting activity, fenton, weary and dust-laden, astride a foam-flecked horse, turned into the north end of the lodz. on receiving the startling intelligence that the human instrument of miridoff's foul purpose had followed prince peter to the capital, intent on carrying out his work, fenton had at once secured a guide from larescu and had negotiated a difficult short cut through the mountain country. arriving at the base of the chain of hills in the early forenoon, he had procured a horse. an all-day gallop with one change of mount in the late afternoon, brought him to the city about nine o'clock, in a condition bordering on total collapse. since his arrival in ironia, fenton had found little opportunity for sleep, and his exploits had been as varied as they were arduous. by sheer force of will only was he able to maintain his seat in the saddle. the presence of dense crowds in the lodz did not surprise him; all the way down from the hill country he had found increasing evidences of excitement which satisfied him that crane's spectacular coup had finally brought ironia into the war. as the density of the crowd grew he was forced to abandon his mount and continue forward toward the palace of the prince on foot. it became very slow work, until finally fenton's patience gave way. fearing that every moment lost might cost the prince his life, fenton broke recklessly through the crush which inevitably brought him into conflict in a crowd where the fighting spirit ran so high. as he crossed the square in front of the king's palace a much excited and picturesquely ragged man blocked his way determinedly. fenton roughly elbowed him aside and received in reprisal a blow in the face. his assailant poured out a volume of abuse in french, which caused the canadian to turn and regard him curiously. to his delight fenton recognised his acquaintance of the greek restaurant, monsieur francois dubois. "dubois, by all that's holy!" he cried. "it's lucky i can claim a prior acquaintance, otherwise i fear you would be inclined to show me no mercy. you have plenty of strength left in that arm of yours, my friend." "monsieur fenton," cried the frenchman. "ah, my young friend, forgive me. i have strength left, yes--strength to shoulder a rifle, monsieur. to-morrow i enlist for the service." "i am just back from the hill country," said fenton. "what is the news? has war been declared yet?" "war was declared by our good king peter within an hour of his accession to the throne," cried the frenchman. "king peter!" exclaimed fenton, surveying monsieur dubois as though he feared the frenchman had been suddenly bereft of his senses. "it was just as i told you, monsieur. alexander would not give in. when he found that war could no longer be staved off he abdicated, and peter became king." "then i must lose no time," cried fenton. "it is doubly important that i get to him at once. i have news of a plot against his life." he plunged with reckless haste through the crowds, opening an avenue by sheer force, and thus enabling monsieur dubois to follow along in his wake without difficulty. "make way! in the name of the king!" cried the frenchman in the native tongue. this caused the people in front to give way. nevertheless the progress of the pair was intolerably slow. there is an emotional strain in the ironian which manifests itself in moments of stress and unusual excitement. when stirred by any deep emotion he will emit strange cries and break into high-pitched interminable chants. to the visitor this tendency is inexplicable, and it has contributed not a little to the feeling among other races that there is something uncanny about the men of the balkan mountains. as fenton piloted monsieur dubois through the square this monotonous chant arose from all sides, and, mingling with the shrill and warlike cries, created a literal pandemonium of sound. as they neared the front of the palace there was a stir which indicated that something of importance was happening. as fenton looked the windows opening on to a balcony to the right of the main entrance were thrown back and two officers stepped out. the noise ceased almost instantly, and a silence settled down over the square. following the two officers came peter, in uniform and bare-headed. he stepped to the front of the balcony, and, resting his hands on the top of the grotesquely ornamental iron railing, swept the crowded square and the streets beyond with a proud eye. his appearance was the signal for an outbreak even more vociferous than before. peter had always been popular with the people of ironia, more popular than the haughty, unbending alexander. his advocacy of the allied cause had cemented the affection of the populace, and now his prompt action following his accession to the throne raised him as a national hero even to the pinnacle of alexander sobiesku of revered memory. the king raised his hand as a signal for silence, and again the noise died down to the uncertain rumble of a mob at rest. fenton, wedged in firmly and unable to make any material progress either forward or back, had up to this point kept his gaze fixed on the stately figure of the king. now his glance wandered to a burly fellow just ahead of him, a peasant from his garb. the man attracted fenton's attention in some inexplicable way, and as the canadian watched he perceived something which caused him to cry out in frantic tones of alarm. "men of ironia," the king began in clear tones that carried each word distinctly to the farthest confines of the square. then of a sudden came the sharp crack of a revolver shot, and peter staggered back from the railing into the arms of the officers behind him. the peasant had levelled a revolver over the shoulder of the man in front of him. fenton, perceiving the move, had torn a path through the press toward the assassin. his hands had closed almost on the peasant's shoulder when the explosion broke the silence. "too late! my god, to have him within my reach and not stop him," groaned fenton, stunned with the catastrophe that had occurred before his very eyes. he reeled blindly in the rush of the enraged mob and was buffeted here and there. the gun-man had apparently been surrounded by accomplices and friends, for the vengeance-seeking mob was held back and hampered in its pursuit of the daring peasant. in the darkness and confusion the assassin disappeared, swallowed up in the agitated sea of humanity. two days later he was given up and summarily shot; but, having no foreknowledge of this, the crowd, balked of their prey and frantic with anxiety for the wounded monarch, descended to depths of vengeful, berserk fury that could vent itself only in indiscriminate conflict. friend fought friend, blows were struck with savage hate, blood flowed freely. fenton found himself propelled out of the now almost bestial crowd to a side street where comparative calm reigned. monsieur dubois, guessing how near to the point of total collapse his companion was, hurried fenton to the nearest open shop and there procured a brimming beaker of strong liquor. after drinking the restorative fenton felt a measure of his strength return. "another moment and monsieur fenton would have been under the feet of the mob," said the frenchman. "they are wild for blood back there! hearken to their cries! if the king dies, not an austrian will be left alive in this city by break of day." "if he dies!" echoed fenton in an agony of remorse. "to think that i arrived just too late. if he dies i shall feel as guilty as the wretch who fired the shot!" "he cannot--he must not die!" cried dubois. "ironia needs the strong hand of her king now. god will not take him away when he has but placed his hand to the plough." * * * * * back in the palace two physicians were bending over the prostrate figure of the wounded king with significant silence. "he still lives," said one finally, "but----" and the other nodded with grim acquiescence. chapter xxvi the death of the king it was noon when fenton awoke the next day. he awoke to a sense of unfamiliar surroundings. above him was a ceiling of dingy, brownish hue. the walls, he discovered on investigation, were similar to the ceiling and unadorned save for a few dusty old french prints. the bed on which he lay was hard and lumpy, the coverlet ancient and thin. there was a faint mustiness observable in the atmosphere and through a half-closed door came the sound of a bow softly scraping the strings of a decrepit violin. fenton sat bolt upright in bed and examined his surroundings with much surprise and, truth to tell, a little alarm. the fact that he was awake was thus communicated to the musician in the other room; for a shuffling step crossed the floor and the head of monsieur dubois was poked inquiringly through the door. "now i understand," said fenton, putting one leg out of the bed, and groaning with the effort--for a full day in the saddle will leave its effects on the most experienced horseman. "monsieur is surprised," said the old frenchman, coming into the room with his violin in one hand--a rather crazy, poverty-stricken kind of violin--and the bow in the other. "it was this way. monsieur fenton was quite so fatigued that he fell sound asleep in the café and nothing could arouse him. luckily my lodgings were close by and, with the help of a stout young fellow, who will return to-day for some compensation, which i had to promise, not having anything by me"--this apologetically--"we managed to get monsieur here and to bed. i trust that monsieur is feeling much better?" fenton was already out of bed and in the middle of his toilet. he dressed hurriedly, albeit stiffly. "what news is there?" he asked gravely. "what of the king?" an expression of sadness came into the fine eyes of the old exile. "it is indeed the great catastrophe, monsieur," he said. "the king is dying. i have just come from the palace where the official bulletins are published. he has not recovered consciousness. the physicians hold out no hope." fenton's worst fears were realised. it was some minutes before he could recover sufficient composure to go on. "has the assassin been caught?" he asked. monsieur dubois shook his head. then lines of anger and determination showed around his eyes and mouth. he elevated one arm and shook the bow menacingly. "the arch assassin, he shall pay for this!" he exclaimed. "it is told everywhere on the streets that it was miridoff who planned the murder of the king--the strong king who was needed to lead ironia to victory. ironia has a heavy score to settle with miridoff." "miridoff is dead," said fenton. "how do you know?" demanded the musician eagerly. "there is nothing known of the grand duke's whereabouts. serajoz is full of the mystery." "he is dead beyond all doubt," declared the canadian. "i killed him myself." followed a brief recital of some of the principal events in the mountains which had led up to the capture of the hunting lodge, and the release of the princess. monsieur dubois could hardly restrain himself. at the conclusion of the narrative he seized fenton by both hands and poured out a volley of incoherent praise. "my young friend has had a most great honour," he wound up by saying. "it has fallen to his lot to rescue the queen of ironia. what honours shall be heaped upon him!" "what do you mean?" demanded fenton, almost roughly. "if peter dies the throne will pass to the princess olga," explained the other. "she is the last of the line. alexander is childless, and the princess is the only child of peter. there is no one to dispute the throne with our beautiful olga, who, it is said, is just as good as she is beautiful." fenton, who had suddenly sought a seat, did not say anything. the musician rambled on: "and a great heritage she will come into, this queen olga." the old frenchman, fond as he was of the country from which he was an exile, had a very real regard for the welfare of the little land where he had lived so long. "when the war is over," his voice droned on, "ironia will have added again the two provinces, serania and mulkovina. and i shall throw up my hat nearly as joyfully for that as i shall for the return into the victorious borders of la belle france of alsace-lorraine." this last appeared to overcome him for a moment, and he paused before starting again. "ironia will then have a population of ten million, monsieur fenton. think of that. she will become a power in europe on a scale long looked forward to by her rulers. then the young queen will have a great country to reign over." fenton raised his head and clutched at a figurative straw. "but can a woman occupy the throne of ironia?" "but certainly. she will marry, of course. indeed, even now they are saying on the street that a match will be made for our queen with a prince of serbia. it would be a fine stroke." the frenchman mooned on while fenton sat dumbfounded. this old man was calmly and unwittingly puncturing the bubbles of happiness that had engrossed the canadian's attention since the romantic episode of the hills. "it would cement once again the balkan confederacy. some of the glory of the past would be theirs, and more glory than the past ever knew." "supposing the princess were already married, though?" said fenton slowly and in a strained tone. "eh?" the old frenchman opened his eyes sharply. "a--what you call--morganatic marriage?" "no," said the other impatiently. "supposing that the princess, not expecting to be queen of ironia, had married someone quietly--not expecting to be queen," he repeated, as if to urge to himself and the old man every possible means of exit from this _cul-de-sac_ that, for the first time, he realised he had landed in. "what then?" "it would make no difference." monsieur dubois shook his head decidedly. "it would be set aside, my young friend. nothing can be allowed to stand in the way of matters of state." fenton was silent for a moment. then he stood up and straightened his shoulders. he felt as if he must be alone at once. "monsieur dubois," he said, "you have spoken to me about the one aim you have--to get back to france. you have been very kind to me. will you permit me to reciprocate ever so little and advance the necessary means?" the old man shook his head and smiled. "they may not take me back in la belle france. i am an old man. but here, young and old, all will get a chance. i shall stay, monsieur." he too rose and squared his shoulders. his frame was a little bent, his hands trembled, but there was a look of profound determination and of profounder pride in his eyes as he shook back his tousled grey hair. "maybe we shall meet at the front, monsieur fenton," he said. they did. it was two months afterward in a field hospital along the frontier. a shell had shattered the musician's leg. he did not recognise fenton, and babbled incoherently of france and freedom. * * * * * leaving the lodgings of monsieur dubois, fenton hurried to the palace. varden, he felt sure, would be there. the streets were strangely different from what he had known them when, barely a week before, he had arrived in serajoz fur the first time. the city seemed to be one gigantic military camp. troops passed and repassed. the rumble of artillery was a familiar sound, and occasioned little specific interest. the crowds were smaller already. thousands of men had enlisted. they had been talking about war for months. they were prepared. fenton found varden at the palace. the latter was coming down the corridor which led from the personal suite of the king. silently varden gripped the hand of the canadian, and for a moment did not speak. then, "peter is dead," he said in a low tone. fenton asked the question very quietly: "when?" "he died a few minutes ago," returned the other. "come." varden turned and led the way down the corridor through knots of officials, and through the antechamber where stood a few chosen friends and councillors, conversing in low tones, to a small detached office. they sat down. "don," said varden, "you've done wonderful work. i've heard all about it. the princess arrived this morning with mademoiselle petrowa and that strange fellow crane you picked up _en route_. he's a queer fish, but i like him. i haven't had a chance to see the princess, but the others are full of your exploits." "the princess will be queen now?" fenton tried to keep his voice calm, but his mind was in a turmoil. "yes. i'm afraid this cooks your goose, old chap," said varden easily. "she's bound to have some princeling or other for a husband now. in fact, a match is already spoken of." fenton nodded. varden's remarks had convinced him on one score. anna and crane had said nothing about the ceremony over the tongs. fenton stood up, restraint and determination mingling in his bearing. "it's quite impossible, i suppose, for me to see--her majesty"--his voice trembled slightly, then grew quite firm again. "percy," he said, "you can fix me up with a post in the army? i want to be right up at the front." varden nodded without any particular enthusiasm. "wish i could go too," he said. "i'll get there, of course, as soon as the matter of the queen's accession is settled. until then i feel it my duty to stay here and watch things. and that means i'll miss the opening of the campaign." "is there any doubt," asked fenton slowly, "as to the accession of olga to the throne?" "no," replied varden. "but these are parlous times, don. the new ruler is a woman, and there are some ambitious men at the head of the state at present. i have no doubt that danilo vanilis would not scruple to sweep her aside and seize the vacant throne himself if it were not for the fact that there are several others quite as ambitious and almost as powerful as himself who wouldn't stand by. dynasties are unstable things in the balkans, don. still, i am counting on the mutual jealousy of the leaders to provide the means for olga to step quietly into her rights." fenton straightened up. in the face of this hint of a possible plot against the woman he loved, all mental uncertainty vanished. "is there anything i can do?" he asked. "nothing must stand between the princess and her rights. if money would be any inducement to quiet these trouble-makers, i'm willing to contribute all that i have." "quite unnecessary, mr quixote," said varden. "there is a powerful faction to watch the interests of our little olga. never fear, she shall be queen of ironia." chapter xxvii a letter of farewell fenton sat on a camp stool beneath the sloping sides of a canvas tent. gusts of wind found their way inside, causing the candle that stood on a small table beside him to flicker uncertainly. outside could be heard the even tramp of a sentry, and at rare intervals the thud of horses' hoofs. from a distance came the steady rumble that told of transport wagons on the move. fenton wore the uniform of a cavalry officer. two days had passed since the death of king peter, interminable days of torture and mental travail to the young canadian. from the moment that varden had spoken the fateful words, "peter is dead," fenton had in a vague way realised the duty that lay before him; although it was only after a long struggle with the promptings of his love that he had bowed to the inevitable. olga was now queen of ironia. a great and shining future was before her. an empire lay within her grasp. what part could he, an alien and a commoner, expect to play in that future? true, she had married him, but when matters of state were hanging in the balance, a gipsy marriage over the tongs would be counted of little consequence. it could easily be set aside. in any case, who were there who knew of that romance of the hills? anna petrowa and crane shared the secret with himself and olga--no one else--and they would say no word. he must go away. if it were deemed necessary to resort to the church for a proper dissolution of the bonds, he would render every assistance in his power. but this perhaps would not be necessary--for he was going to the front, a soldier of her serene majesty, queen olga. that there was no other course open to him was quite clear. his presence would distress her, render the part she had to play more difficult for her. to save her the painful task of breaking off the relationship between them, he must go. the two days had been busy ones, which was fortunate, for his mind had been kept occupied. he had been given a post in a cavalry brigade. with an almost savage absorption he had plunged into the stern duty of fitting himself for the work at the front. with grim but keen anticipation he had practised with the finely balanced sabre and the brace of revolvers that constituted his implements of warfare. no trooper rides in the charge with more reckless daring and insatiable determination than the man whose heart is filled with a tragedy of love. fenton would undoubtedly prove a first-class fighting man. that day at noon he had seen phil crane off with the artillery. the voluble englishman had some knowledge of guns, and nothing would satisfy him but a post with the very first batteries that lumbered off for the front. accordingly, being a most arrogant fellow, as has perhaps already been demonstrated, crane had bluntly informed anna of his intention of marrying her before leaving, and had then dragged her off to a church; the little dancer, truth to tell, being quite willing, under a pretence of reluctance. fenton had witnessed the ceremony. he had again impressed upon them both the necessity for silence on the score of what had happened at the hawk's rest, and then had ridden back to the camp, which had been established outside serajoz, with a careless: "i'll see you up at the front, phil." in the dim and guttering light of the candle, fenton was writing. with many long and painful pauses he worked, until finally the letter lay before him completed. he read it over to himself again, considering each word and phrase: "my dearest,--i am addressing you as my heart dictates for the last time. for this i humbly crave your forgiveness. perhaps, as this is the last message that can pass between us, you will condone my offence. i leave to-morrow for the front. we shall never see each other again. "there is so much for you to forgive. my failure to save your father has weighed heavily upon me, and i realise how deeply you must feel the consequences. i tried my best--and, in the light of subsequent events, it has seemed to me that the hand of fate intervened. it was god's will that you should rule over ironia. "a throne now separates us, and, my dearest wife (i cannot help so calling you), i realise fully what must be done. i bow to the inevitable. if the difficulties of your position in view of what transpired in the hills, have added to the measure of your sorrow, i want to give you complete assurance on the score of my acceptance of the part that has devolved upon me. if legal proceedings are necessary, i shall lend every assistance. but i do not think it will come to that. heavy fighting is ahead of us, and i may be fortunate---- "i cannot find words to express the depth of my love for you. my darling! my bride! it is hard to give you up! but to have won your love, if only to lose it, is greater fortune than i deserve. the memory of your love will remain with me to the last. it provides me now in the depth of my despair with a wonderful solace. i have known greater happiness than ever before fell to the lot of man--and with that great thought stored in my mind i face the future--whatever it holds--with courage. i surrender you to a brilliant future, olga, queen of ironia. may it be as happy as it will be illustrious.... i know that sometimes you will think of me. "and so, my wife, good-bye. "henceforth i shall be a soldier in your army. your majesty will have none more loyal and respectful. if i die in your service--i can think of no greater end. if i live, i shall stand ready to come from any place in the wide world at your bidding. if it should come about that you ever need me, all that i have, my life, will be at your service." * * * * * the letter on its way, fenton gave himself up to a hopeless train of reflection. he saw olga again as on the first time that they had met, beautiful, stately, on the crowded floor of the ball-room. again he saw her there among the palms as he hastily warned her of the evil that might befall her father. once more she stood, framed in the doorway of varden's library, the personification of offended dignity. the scene changed and he lived over the thrill of their first embrace. he pictured her as they had stood hand in hand, plighting their marriage vows over the tongs; and finally he visioned afresh her surprise when she had found him to be her husband--and he saw the wonderful tenderness that grew in her eyes. he would never see her again! his vigil was a long one. early dawn found him, haggard of face and heavy of eye, staring moodily across to the eastern hills above which the rays of the rising sun heralded a new day--a day devoid of happiness and zest, the first of an endless succession of empty days. fenton resented the new day, for it brought him no purpose, no hope. an orderly came with a letter. fenton took it. he knew what it was, and his hand trembled. he had, of course, expected an answer; in fact, he had satisfied himself as to what she would almost certainly say. her letter would be dignified, tender, regretful. it would voice the strength of her determination to devote her life to her people; perhaps it would reveal something of her love. and yet as he turned the note in his hands the hopes and longings that he had spent the night in putting aside trooped back and ran riot through his mind. he opened it and read: "come to me at once.--olga." chapter xxviii the reunion the body of king peter lay in state. all the previous day a continuous line of his mourning subjects had filed past the royal bier to gaze for the last time on the placid face of this king of an hour, who had given up his life in their service. now the darkened room, hung with heavy curtains of sombre hue, through which the light of the early morning sun penetrated but dimly, seemed at first glance deserted. as fenton's eyes became accustomed to the gloom, however, he made out a slender figure in black standing on the raised dais, her head pillowed on her arms, which rested on the side of the bier. the quiet figure stirred at the sound of his approaching footsteps. she raised her head, then straightened up and stepped down to meet him. olga was very pale and sad of face, but a tender welcome showed in her eyes. "you came quickly," she said in a low tone. fenton had expected that the change in their positions would be reflected in her attitude, so he could scarcely credit it when, coming forward, she placed both her hands in his and looked up into his face with the same tenderness and infinite trust that she had shown when they parted. "olga!" he exclaimed, then stopped, finding no words to express his emotions. "i received your letter last night," she went on in the same low tone. "i had already made up my mind, but your letter was a wonderful revelation. my dear, my dear, i never thought--i had not dared to think you loved me so!" fenton had not for a moment allowed his gaze to wander from her face. he noted with solicitude how wan and pale she was. the intensity of her grief showed in every line, but beneath it all was the light of a great resolution that almost transcended her sorrow. "why did you send for me?" he asked. "i didn't intend to see you again. i didn't want to make it--the inevitable--hard for you." she nodded and pressed his hand gratefully. "i understood your brave purpose," she said. "it spoke from every line of your letter. i read it many, many times and blessed you for it. but what you proposed is not necessary now." fenton did not understand. he was frankly puzzled at everything--her words, her attitude, even her dress. from the first moment that his eyes had rested upon her he had been aware of some subtle change. too closely absorbed in his love and his loss for matters of detail to register on his mind, he had in a general way realised that there was something about her that was strangely different. "what do you mean?" he asked. "i am not queen of ironia," she said quietly. "i have refused the crown." there was a tense pause. fenton gazed at her a moment in wonderment. then, as full realisation of what her statement meant flashed through his mind, he drew her hands to his lips with a gesture of passionate gratitude. the unexpected had happened, a miracle had come to pass. olga would continue his wife! "i gave my answer to the council an hour before your letter reached me," she said with quiet simplicity. "there was no question as to my course when i found that acceptance of the crown would have meant foregoing my vows to you. fortunately my decision was rendered easy by the attitude of some of the members of the council, who felt that the strong hand of a man was needed at the helm at this time. certain ones there are, high in rank in ironia, who would not scruple to seize the throne themselves. my father's loyal adherents supported me strongly and urged that i should assert my right to the throne, but i gladly, oh so gladly, relinquished all claim. and so i am free--and your wife!" fenton had sunk to his knees before her. "i can hardly understand yet," he said humbly. "you have given up a throne--for me." "for love and duty," she replied. "i can be of more value to my country now than had i essayed to fill my father's place. with danilo vanilis at the head of a provisional government, ironia will be sure of capable handling during the times of stress that are ahead. after the war--if personal ambitions can be kept in check--ironia may become a republic." "but--what can i do to compensate you for what you have given up," cried fenton. he read the answer in her eyes. * * * * * there was a long pause. the silent presence of the royal dead chastened the joy of their reunion. "olga," said fenton finally, "duty calls me. in two hours my regiment leaves for the front. i must say good-bye." "no, not good-bye," she answered, raising her arm. "i too going to serve my country. see--i go to the front with you!" at last fenton understood the change in her appearance that had puzzled him. she was dressed in a plain black uniform, and on her arm was the red cross. the end printed in great britain at the northumberland press waterloo house, thornton street newcastle-upon-tyne