Nick. "His messenger is here early."
"I suppose Marchaud, the innkeeper, has spread the news of our return,"
said the General.
"What have I to do with Marbosa?" said Nick.
"I'll tell you about that when I see you to-night," replied the General,
waving his hand to Teju Okio. The Jap boy threw in his clutch, the
General's head went back, and they were off for Nischon.
"There is some mystery here," said Nick, watching the car thoughtfully
until it was gone from sight.
"Who is Marbosa?" I asked.
"He is the recognized leader of the nobles of Bharbazonia and a great
friend of the General's. He is about Palmora's age, but as hot-headed
and impetuous as a youth."
It was too fine a day to be indoors, and I suggested that we employ the
morning by riding about the country on horseback. Nick forgot the
weariness he had offered the General as an excuse for remaining behind
and readily assented. The stables were in the rear of the castle and we
found them full of the finest horses money could buy. Nick conversed
with the stablemen by means of the sign language, remembering his
American character, and we were soon upon the road astride the best
travellers I have ever seen.
"Wither awa'," I cried gaily as we left the estate, coming into the
public road by the porter's lodge and gates which I recognized from the
evening before.
"Let us go to Dhalmatia and see how the Prince is this morning," said
Nick.
I turned my head to hide the smile. So he, too, was interested in the
Prince? I wondered if the General's suspicions had at last awakened in
Nick's breast a desire similar to my own, or was it that he wished to
improve his acquaintance with the future king?
"On to the lair of the Red Fox," I said.
Nick's estates, I found, were on one side of the road and the Red Fox's
on the other. The entrances were at opposite ends and about two miles
apart. I remembered that it must have been over this very highway that
Nick's father and his friend the General had hurriedly galloped that
memorable night twenty years ago drawn by the strange ringing of the
natal bell. Our journey was made more decorously, but upon a strangely
similar errand as far as I was concerned.
The castle on the hill was visible from the road. Although it stood
bathed in sunlight in the clearing high above the woodland, it retained
all its sombreness. And the General's remarks came back to me with
renewed force. Had I been alone I might have turned back.
No one came forward to take our horses when we dismounted. The silent
battlements grinned down upon us as though to warn us away. I held the
bridle reins while Nick beat upon the oaken door with the handle of his
riding crop.
The butler who answered was the old man who had held the lantern the
night before. He resembled his master in grimness of manner and secrecy
of method, opening the door slightly and blocking the aperture with his
body, as if he suspected we had come to filch the bric-a-brac, or make
way with the Prince. As soon as he laid eyes upon us he addressed
himself to a task he appeared to relish.
"The master bids me thank you," he said in French, usual in Bharbazonian
households because, as I afterward learned, it was the court language,
"for the expression of good will which your presence implies; he is
sorry that the custom of denying himself to visitors, which has been his
for years, compels him to refrain from entertaining you. To Monsieur le
Physician, he desires me to say that his son has so far recovered as to
make any further calls unnecessary."
The insult took our breath away and we could manage no words to reply.
"I wish you a very good afternoon," said the doorman, gravely. Then he
gently but firmly closed the door in our faces.
What little hold Nick retained upon his temper was lost when, in
remounting, owing to the restiveness of his horse, he twice missed his
stirrup. The animal was one of those high-spirited fellows that show
much white around the eye and cannot stand the approach of a rider.
Nick made matters worse by belabouring him both with his riding whip and
the toe of his boot, so that I had to pull up on the road and wait for
him.
I scarcely knew what to make of our unceremonious reception, and could
attribute the Duke's action to one of two things. Either as an
offspring of Bharbazonia he was mediaeval and unused to the polite
usages of the present day; or he had something to conceal.
"My respect for the General increases," I said as we rode off together.
"Why?" growled Nick.
"The General knew his man better than we did."
"What makes you say that?"
"He strongly advised me not to visit Dhalmatia, and said the Red Fox
would insult us."
"Humph," said Nick, "I wish you had told me. I should not have given him
the opportunity."
"Well, after all," I suggested, "the Fox has a right to exclude us if he
is so minded. A man's castle is his home, I take it."
"Bharbazonians do not treat each other with such scant courtesy."
"You forget that we are two Americans to him. But even Bharbazonia is
known to Baedeker, I suppose."
"Can you, the rejected physician, who yesterday stood ready to treat his
son, forgive him so lightly?"
"Assuredly, when I remember that I was also one of the party which
contributed to his son's fall."
"You are too good-natured, Dale. I could choke him with pleasure. One
of these days when his son is king I shall compel an apology."
By common consent when we reached the highway we turned away from
Framkor and rode past the Duke's estate, the length of which was plainly
marked by an almost endless hedge. As we came opposite a pretty little
summer-house, enclosed in glass and used as a winter conservatory, I
caught sight of the prince's face behind the glass. His profile was
toward us and, as he was sitting, only his head and shoulders were
visible. Not hearing our hoof beats on the soft dirt road he did not
look up as we passed. Here was an opportunity of accomplishing our
purpose in spite of the Duke. Nothing loath I embraced it.
"If you are minded to talk to the Fox's son before he is king," I
exclaimed, indicating the summer-house, "here is your chance."
Seeing the Prince, Nick put his horse to the hedge without a word and I
followed. As we struck the ground on the other side, the Prince looked
quickly up. He watched us tie our horses to a tree, but made no effort
to rise when we burst open the door and unceremoniously entered.
On the threshold we both stopped in surprise, our hostility giving place
to embarrassment and a natural consternation. We suddenly found
ourselves not, as we expected, in the presence of the Prince, but
standing stupidly before a surprised and beautiful young woman. She was
about the Prince's age and bore a striking resemblance to him. She had
the same sleepy brown eyes. Her hair was of the same titian shade, but
it was long and gathered in a soft knot at the back of her head. It was
her crowning glory and she wore it without a part after the manner of
the French pompadour.
Her dress was one I had not expected to find in Bharbazonia. It was a
tailor-made suit of the then fashionable "smoke" colour and beneath her
short skirt peeped a pair of patent leather shoes with tops to match the
colour of her dress. Could she have been transferred from her
summer-house to the Rittenhouse square promenade, she would not have
been out of the picture nor have caused comment except for her great
beauty.
With well-bred composure she calmly looked from Nick to me without
altering her position in her comfortable chair or even lowering her
book. Although apparently unmoved, she was alert to our every move,
questioning with her glance the reason for our intrusion. Many another
girl under similar circumstance might have cried out, but she was
neither overcome with feminine modesty nor afraid.
For my part I was conscious of feeling like a small boy caught with a
pocketful of stolen apples. Nick must have been afflicted in a like
manner, for our hats came off simultaneously, and we bowed as low as the
difference in our training would permit.
"We beg your pardon," began Nick, recovering his composure. "We
expected to find the Prince here--the resemblance is so wonderful--we
beg your pardon."
There was another awkward pause as she waited for him to continue and
then, seeing that he had lost his voice, she spoke. I shall never
forget the feeling that went through me as I listened to her ringing
contralto, full of Homeresque quality, clear as a bell.
"From the manner of your entrance, one would imagine you meant him
harm," she said.
Nick's composure forsook him entirely and I came to the rescue. There
was nothing timorous about this young woman. She looked me frankly in
the face. The subtle charm of her femininity came to me with the odour
of the surrounding flowers and took a firm grasp upon my heart.
"We are just come from the castle," I hastened to say, "where we sought
to inquire after the health of the Prince. The Duke turned us from the
door."
"And may I inquire who you are?"
"I am Dr. Dale Wharton and this is Mr. Nicholas Fremsted."
She returned the compliment.
"I am Solonika, the Prince's sister," she replied.
We both bowed again like two automatons controlled by the same string.
"I see that you are not English," she added.
"No," Nick replied quickly as if he were not sure of my answer, "we are
both Americans."
"So?" she said, looking at Nick as if she were trying to place him in
her memory. Her quizzical expression reminded me of the Prince when he
had watched Nick in the same manner.
"Now that we have been introduced most properly," she continued with the
shadow of a smile, "perhaps you will sit down and have tea with me.
Perhaps also I may make amends for my father's seeming lack of
hospitality."
"Therese," she called to a French maid who promptly emerged from behind
a Japanese screen in the rear of the room, "chairs for the gentlemen."
While Nick engaged the Princess in conversation I had opportunity to
examine the summer-house. It has always been my belief that one reveals
character in the arrangement and decoration of one's favourite rooms.
The little den had the atmosphere of a college man's smoking room,
except for the flowers that were banked high at the windows which formed
the wall of the summer-house on the side toward the road. Here and
there convenient openings were left for a view of the highway. If the
Princess had fitted up this lounging place out of a feeling of monotony
which remote living in the castle brought her, she succeeded admirably
in arriving at privacy and at the same time avoiding loneliness.
The other three walls were done in dark red burlap richly hung with
pictures. Drinking steins of every nation, together with valuable china
and porcelain ware, adorned the plate rail around the sides. But what
caught my eye was a lifesize, full-length picture of Solonika herself
dressed in the bright-coloured garb of a Bharbazonian peasant girl,
poised upon the tips of her dainty toes in the midst of a native dance.
Close beside it was another canvas of the Prince in the pure white
finery of a most gorgeous court costume, covered with lace and furbelows
sufficient to arouse the envy of a French king.
In one corner was an artist's easel on which stood a half finished
landscape of the King's Highway, showing the Turk's Head Inn in the
foreground. The room was neither masculine nor feminine and I was at a
loss to find a reason for the presence of a large copy of Wehr-Schmidt's
painting of "Down Among the Dead Men," which occupied the entire rear
wall, unless it might be that the Prince also had a hand in the
decorations. Else why should such prominence be given a scene in which
a number of reckless swordsmen were forcing a frightened clergyman to
drink an abhorred health, singing as they threatened him with their
levelled points:
"And he who will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie."
Therese, the maid, was serving the tea when I came back from my mental
wandering and began to take an interest in the conversation.
"Brother is much better this morning," the Princess was saying. "Father
has difficulty in keeping him in bed. Although his arm is still
painful, he is a lively youth and hard to keep down."
"He will not suffer any further inconvenience from his fall?" asked
Nick.
"None whatever. After all, it was his own fault. He sometimes is such
a careless rider. When the colt reared at sight of your conveyance,
Raoul says he made the mistake of pulling him back. The sight of your
car was so unexpected; I suppose he was as much surprised as the horse.
Think of it! An automobile in Bharbazonia!"
She threw back her head and laughed heartily at the thought, and we
could do nothing else but laugh with her. The charm of the girl was
contagious and we forgot the Duke's unpleasantness.
"Why, it was only a week ago they burned a witch at the stake for some
offence against the Church. I was not a bit sorry when I heard it, for
she was the one who prophesied that Raoul would never be King of
Bharbazonia--and behold along comes this automobile, chug-chugging
through the middle ages almost making that prophecy come true. We are
growing modern."
"Dear old Bharbazonia," sighed Nick, off his guard for the moment.
The Princess heard the remark, and I saw her compare my own blond head
with Nick's black curls, while the puzzled look returned.
"Dear old Bharbazonia," was all she said, but I fancied her interest in
him increased from that moment. It was the call of the blood.
"Do you know Bharbazonia?" she asked him later.
He admitted that he had visited the country on different occasions,
always as the guest of General Palmora.
"On one of my trips I had the pleasure of meeting the Prince at Nischon.
He was visiting his uncle the King."
"Ah," she said, "I thought so."
She nodded her head several times as if his remark explained many
things.
"But I never had the pleasure of meeting you before," he added.
"I have seen you," she hastened to say. "If I remember correctly that
was four years ago. You and the General rode by these windows
frequently on that occasion. That was the year the Grand Duke of
Framkor died."
Nick made no reply at this mention of his father's name. And, if she
were trying to discover his identity under directions from her
suspicious father, she made nothing out of him.
"I suppose, if one could trace it back, I should be found to be a
relation of his," he said. "My family is Russian. I was born in St.
Petersburg and later became a world wanderer and finally an American.
Dale and I were chums at the University of Pennsylvania in
Philadelphia."
"Friends," she mused. "I have always been interested in friendship. I
never had a friend."
"You have had no opportunity, living here all your life."
"Oh, but I have been away to school. I have met those there whom I
would have called friends, but father you know is a curious man, and I
cannot have them visit me here."
"You have missed a great deal in life," said Nick.
"Have I?" she laughed. "I do not think so. Friendship between men is
not lasting. I wonder if a woman could not loosen the bonds of
affection between you two at any time she chose?"
"I doubt it," said Nick, staunchly.
"I have often wondered what would happen if a woman had come between
David and Jonathan, or Damon and Pythias or any of the famous chums of
history," she said.
"A woman is only a woman," said Nick with a smile, "but the world holds
nothing so dear as the friends one makes in youth and cleaves to until
the end. I do not think the woman lives who could part Dale and me."
"Don't be too sure," she smiled back between half closed eyes.
It was almost dark when we arose to take our leave after a most pleasant
afternoon. Nick, true to his Bharbazonian instinct, made his
leave-taking consist of a sweeping bow, but I put out my hand in
American fashion.
"Good-bye, your Highness," I said, "I trust that we will see you soon
again."
She hesitated for the fraction of a second before extending her hand.
Perhaps she was not familiar with hand-shaking as a leave-taking habit.
For the first time during the afternoon she seemed timid. When I
released her hand the arm fell to her side. "Oh!" she exclaimed as if in
pain, although I could have sworn that I had not used more strength in
my leave-taking than one would with a Dresden doll.
But, when I reached the door and bowed myself across the threshold, she
was standing by her chair smiling brightly.
"Good-bye," she said, "I have had such a pleasant afternoon. Please do
not cherish resentment and come to the castle. The Prince and I will be
glad to see you both. I shall tell father he must apologize."
She came to the door and watched us mount and put our horses over the
hedge. We both waved our hands to her as the bend in the road shut her
from view.
It wasn't until we turned in at Framkor gate that a possible explanation
of the significance of Solonika's suppressed cry of pain came home to me
and I exclaimed aloud:
"It was the right arm of the Prince that was dislocated!"
"Well," said Nick, "and what of that?"
*CHAPTER VII*
*THE STORY OF THE SACRILEGE*
The nimble lie
Is like the second hand upon a clock;
We see it fly; while the hour hand of truth
Seems to stand still, and yet it moves unseen,
And wins, at last, for the clock will not strike
Till it has reached the goal.
--_Longfellow: Michael Angelo_.
Nicholas and I were not good company for each other that evening. The
General, we found, had not returned from Nischon and we ate our evening
meal in silence. After dinner we repaired to the smoking room, there to
follow out our musings each in his own way.
Nick, with his elbows on his armchair and his chin resting on his
interlaced hands, watched the fire leaping and dancing among the burning
chestnut logs until, moved by its magnetic influence, he drifted away on
the wings of reverie, leaving "the world and all" far behind. Once he
spoke aloud, oblivious of my presence.
"What a magnificent creature she has grown to be," he said.
My thoughts also were of the Princess Solonika, but they did not dwell
upon her remarkable beauty. They had a totally different trend. I
carefully went over the events of the afternoon and the poison of
suspicion, implanted in my mind by the vague words of the General, gave
colour to everything I had noticed in the summer-house. Nick's steady
refusal to countenance the idea had lulled me into the belief that the
General was visionary; but the incident of my leave-taking from Solonika
brought me up with a sharp turn.
It seemed impossible to imagine that any such masquerade as the General
implied could exist these twenty years undiscovered, and, for its
successful fulfilment, go on existing thereafter for an indefinite
period. I realized, of course, that this was an Anglo-Saxon point of
view. In a civilized country with its freedom of intercourse, its
newspapers and reporters in search of sensations, its international
social life moving always in the limelight of publicity, such an
extremely grotesque secret would soon be dragged from hiding and held up
to public ridicule. But this was not America. This was barbaric
Bharbazonia. Here, shut up in a well protected castle, cut off from the
world, hidden from prying eyes by the might of power, anything were
possible.
Just what did I suspect? I scarcely knew and I experienced difficulty
in making my mind contemplate a proposition so absurd. Why should I not
continue to believe that the Prince was the Prince and that Solonika was
Solonika? But two other hypotheses forced themselves upon me. Suppose,
I said to myself, that on that eventful night, when the bell of
Dhalmatia announced the birth of twins, only a daughter had been born.
What would the Duke, controlled by an overmastering desire to wrest the
succession of the throne from his heirless brother, have done in his
despair and excitement?
I had seen the Red Fox and knew that the keynote of his character was
craftiness. On the spur of the moment, given no time to consider what
suffering his action might entail upon the newborn babe, he would have
dashed upon the rope in a frenzy and tolled the bell a second time
declaring the advent of a son. Perhaps during the long months of
waiting he had planned some such deception should the fates go against
him. The truthful nurse, unaware of his desire, had complicated matters
and had paid the penalty for her lack of wisdom.
After his rash act, as the Fox sat down to think, gloating over King
Gregory's chagrin when he heard the news, he would find two courses open
to him. He must either adopt a boy to take the place of the Prince who
was not, or he might bring up his daughter to assume the role of both
Prince and Princess.
Well pleased with my theory I began to test it and found to my delight
that it satisfactorily explained many things. If the girl and boy were
one, the remarkable physical resemblance would be natural and the
expression of pain on Solonika's face when I shook her hand would be
explained. What would be more natural than the Duke's action in denying
his castle to visitors? When Nick and I called that morning he could
not let us in to see the Prince because Solonika was in the
summer-house!
Then Doubt came knocking at my door. After all, the Red Fox might have
been discourteous to us because we were the avowed friends of his enemy,
General Palmora. Under the circumstances I could not blame him for what
he did. And had he not explained everything when he declared the birth
of twins? It is not unusual for twins to look alike.
"But," whispered Suspicion in my ear, "how about Solonika's half
suppressed cry of pain?"
Here was I back to my starting point. It was too baffling a problem for
one man to solve. I felt that I needed help; some one who might shed
more light upon the subject, and I turned to Nick. He had never taken
any stock in the General's talk, and always ridiculed the efforts I made
to point out that which I believed lent colour to Palmora's suspicions.
That he had some reason for his faith was evident, and I determined to
risk his displeasure to learn it.
"Nick," I said, startling him out of his dreams by sitting beside him on
the arm of his chair and putting my elbow under his head, "have you ever
been able to learn what the General suspects about the Red Fox and the
succession?"
"Did you ever talk with a brighter woman in your life, Dale?" he
replied.
"Solonika?"
He nodded. Here was the same old susceptible boy, who indiscriminately
decorated our rooms at college with pictures of chorus girls, or leading
women, who temporarily queened it over his fickle fancy and who faded
away into the forgetful mist of passing years. Was he never going to
grow up, I wondered.
"She's pretty enough," I replied, "but I wish you would answer my
question."
"Pretty enough," he echoed. "Oh, you stone man. When a woman like
Solonika cannot make your heart beat faster, I begin to despair for
you."
I did not tell him how much the Princess had interested me, and that it
was the light of sadness deep down in her eyes, which had escaped him,
that made me wish to clear up the mystery and help her if I could. If
she were a masquerader what a terrible life she had before her. I
pitied her.
"Surely," I said, "the good General had some serious reason for bringing
you back."
"Serious he may think it," said Nick, "but I see no reason for coupling
my return with the General's suspicions of Dhalmatia. I think, from
what I saw this morning, that Duke Marbosa had more to do with it."
"I suppose you would not entertain the thought for a moment that the
Prince and the Princess were the same person?"
Nick looked at me as if I were suddenly become a madman. Then he threw
back his head and laughed so loud and long that I, feeling uncomfortably
small, shook him to make him stop. His answer I thought most curious.
"Great heavens, Dale, this is Bharbazonia."
"All the more reason for believing it possible," I retorted.
He laughed again.
"Oh, no," he said, "you have reckoned without the Church."
"Come now, Nick, answer me straight. Cease talking in riddles. What
has the Church got to do with it?"
Nick suddenly became sober. He saw that I was serious, and addressed
himself to the task of enlightening me.
"Listen, Dale," he began, like one entering into a long argument, "I
will tell you all about it and when I am through you must accept what I
say as final and forget these romantic American notions of yours. The
Greek church of Bharbazonia has everything to do with it. To begin
with, for the sake of argument, we will admit that the General and you
are right--the Prince and the Princess are one, and that one is a woman.
I believe that is your theory?"
"Go on," I said, nodding.
"Now, do you know what that would entail?"
"The woman's life would be a hell on earth, I suppose."
"It would mean death if she were ever detected," said Nick, solemnly.
This was going farther than I expected. I looked at Nick, but his face
was immovable. He was not joking.
"Yes, but how? Why?" I exclaimed.
"In the first place the clergy in this country, as in many other
European lands, stand before the nobles in power. The king, the nobles
and the peasantry are all subject to their will. Here, church and state
are not divorced as they are in France and America."
"But how would Solonika come within the power of the Church? Why should
it wish to harm her?"
"Every coronation service, like marriage, is a deeply religious
ceremony," Nick continued steadily. "As you know, it takes place in the
Cathedral at Nischon. It is conducted by the Patriarch, the front of
the Greek Catholic Church of Bharbazonia. When this woman, who in your
fancy is masquerading as the Prince, takes the oath of office, becoming
at once the head of the Church and the ruler of the kingdom, she must
ascend the altar and stand within the Holy of Holies, where it is a
sacrilege for a woman to go!"
"Good heavens," I exclaimed, rising to my feet in consternation. Nick
smiled at the effect of his words and continued:
"Granting that the Red Fox of Dhalmatia would go to great lengths to
procure the throne, do you think that any father would take such risks?
Do you think that a woman like Solonika would affront her religion for
the sake of being king? You may trifle with the superstitious beliefs
of the highly civilized, if they have any, but you cannot play tricks
with the primitive. The populace of Bharbazonia, if they ever found her
out, though she be king, would rend her limb from limb, urged on by the
religious frenzy of the outraged priesthood. Are you answered?"
"I am answered," I replied.
But Nick was not satisfied that he had convinced me.
"I will tell you this, Dale," he added, earnestly. "If Solonika
committed such a sacrilege against my Church and her people, I, a
Bharbazonian, might forget my Occidental cultivation, and, though I
might love her, would strangle her to death with these two hands."
He stretched his hands toward me and crushed his fingers together over
an imaginary throat. I watched him fascinated; here was a new Nicholas
and one that I did not like. I was not so sure that David knew the
innermost secrets of Jonathan's heart.
"So, that is Bharbazonia," I said.
He detected the detraction in my voice, and came to the defence of his
Fatherland.
"Yes, that is Bharbazonia," he replied. "And can you expect more of a
people who have suffered as we have from the persecution of the
merciless Turks? There is nothing gentle, nothing refining in the
traditions behind us. Do you know what it means to come home and find
the body of your wife, nude and desecrated, lying in its blood in the
doorway of your once happy, happy home? Do you know what it means to
the stunted mental growth of a community to have its little earnings
taken for taxes for the support of luxurious Mohammedan harems, when its
children are without schools? And can the religion of a country be more
enlightened than its followers? Do not blame Bharbazonia for what she
is. She is crushed, she is broken, she is bleeding; but she lives."
"With your education and training, Nick, why do you not take a leading
part in helping your own country? You love your fellows, I know."
"Oh, if I had the power; if I were only king in Bharbazonia; what would
I not do? I would ask nothing better for my life work, but, as it is, I
am doing the next best thing, not alone for my country but also for the
entire Balkans, in furthering the work of the Order of the Cross against
the power of the Crescent."
The noise of the engine along the driveway announced the return of the
General in the car. He came bounding into the room like a boy, full of
his trip to the capital and the magnificent preparations for the
coronation.
"I met a certain young woman who was much disappointed because you had
not come, Nicholas," said he.
"Who was she?" asked Nick.
"The Princess Teskla."
"I trust you gave her my best regards."
"I did. And further, I promised not to return to the Palace until I
brought you."
From the General's manner I judged that Nicholas and the king's daughter
were very good friends, and that the General was more than pleased. He
became so enthusiastic in recounting the charms of the young lady that I
began to suspect him of being a matchmaker. Nick had spent much of his
time at the palace after his father died four years ago, but had not
seen the Princess since. He corresponded with her in his desultory
fashion, and I smiled as I recalled how letter writing languished with
him. The General, in his role of Cupid, let fly dart after dart from
his quiver.
"Do you know, my son," he insinuated, "I think Teskla is in love with
you?"
"Think so, Godfather?" said Nick, shrugging his shoulders.
"A splendid girl, sir; a splendid girl I believe."
But Nick abruptly changed the subject.
"You promised to tell me why Grand Duke Marbosa was so interested in my
return," he said.
"You are referring to his messenger of this morning?" replied Palmora,
becoming again the diplomat and statesman.
Nick nodded.
"The Duke is anxious to enroll you with the rest of the nobles under his
leadership in opposition to the Red Fox's son. He is planning something
desperate, I feel sure. He will not be frank with me. But I know that
he will strike before the coronation."
"What have I to do with Marbosa and the nobles of Bharbazonia?" said
Nick. "The Order is not interested, is it?"
"He has not gone as far as to make our Bharbazonian succession an
international affair. He would not dare."
The talk drifted aimlessly, I thought, upon the poverty of the people
and their lack of education; Marbosa's stern patriotism and his
willingness to shed blood for the good of his country; the General's
opposition to Marbosa in favor of peace. I ceased to follow their
discussion until I heard the General say:
"Nicholas, I desire to tell you a story."
"But you cannot convince me, General," said Nick. "I think Marbosa is
right. He has the good of Bharbazonia at heart."
"I believe he has," said the General. "But listen. There once was a
high minded man who was a descendant of a long line of kings. His
ancestors, for centuries, had not lived in their Fatherland since it
fell into the hands of a conquering host from another country. Many of
them, leading ineffectual armies of restoration, were killed; and
private assassins in the pay of the conquerors murdered any member of
the royal family they could find even in exile. To prevent his enemies
from killing him, this king, as his father and grandfather before him
had done, assumed a fictitious name and went into a far country. There,
like any other man, he worked, dreaming of the time when he should come
into his own, hoping against hope.
"So completely did he hide himself, that he rarely received news of his
home. But one day he learned that the land was free and that his
countrymen, deeming the last of their kings dead, had placed a noble
upon the throne and thus established another royal family.
"He came back to his Fatherland intent upon proclaiming himself.
Through all the years he had carefully preserved the proofs of his
identity, and he had no difficulty in convincing a few of the nobles
whom he took into his confidence that he was the king. They were intent
upon a revolution; but the fame of the present ruler was great; he had
been a wonderful soldier in the battles for freedom and the people loved
him. The fight which would follow must disrupt the Fatherland, still
suffering under the poverty and vice of the years of bondage. An
internal quarrel would have destroyed it.
"The king was a great man, greater than the world knew. He restrained
his friends in their efforts to win the throne for him. He refused to
take it, holding that what his beloved country needed most of all was
peace--peace to bind up its wounds and win prosperity and happiness.
His friends urged him, but he remained firm. He went away and never
pressed his claim. Love of country with him was greater than love for a
throne.
"Later he married and a son was born to him. Then his heart misgave him.
Had he done well to rob the boy of his birthright? The thought troubled
him. Yet he remained true to his better impulses, and still held that
his country needed peace. He sought out the oldest friend he had in the
county, a man of considerable influence who was in sympathy with the
great sacrifice his liege lord was making.
"'Although I have given up my throne,' he said, 'I want my boy some day
to reign. The time may come after I am dead when you may see a way to
give him his own again without injury to the Fatherland. When that time
comes, old friend, will you do it?'
"'I will,' said the friend.
"'The youth is impetuous. He may not be able to see the right as I have
seen it. He may not be able to control his selfish motives as I have
done. Therefore do you keep my secret from him. But, if the boy wax
strong and is able to follow the right course, you may tell him the
truth. Until that time shall come keep the secret from him, for the
love you bear me and our Fatherland.'"
In this world, where one sees so much of sordidness, it was refreshing
to hear the General tell of an action so high-minded as to be almost
beyond belief. I liked to feel that such things still existed.
"I have told this story often to Duke Marbosa. But he is not impressed,"
continued the General. "The Red Fox's leanings toward the Turk are, to
Marbosa, like the red flag before the eyes of a bull. He does not like
Prince Raoul's father and in that I cannot blame him. But I cannot make
him see that Bharbazonia needs peace just now. What do you think,
Nicholas?"
"I am rather in sympathy with Marbosa, Godfather," said Nick.
The General was watching Nick closely, his eyes half concealed beneath
his bushy eyebrows. A look of disappointment passed over his face at
the answer. He said something half to himself, which I did not clearly
catch. It sounded like "The time is not yet," but I could not be sure.
"You are very young, my son," he said aloud, "and the Duke of Marbosa is
old enough to know better."
Both of them relapsed into the Bharbazonian speech and I went off to bed
alone. I do not know what time Nick came in, but I was aroused a little
by hearing the General calling across the hallway from his own room:
"Now, remember, son, we meet at the Turk's Head Inn. It is important
that you be there, for I believe we will make history to-morrow. So, do
not oversleep."
*CHAPTER VIII*
*THE TWINS OF DHALMATIA*
The flying rumours father'd as they rolled,
Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
And all who told it added something new,
And all who heard it made enlargements too;
In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.
--_Pope: Temple of Fame_.
When I awoke the next morning Nick's side of the bed was empty. In
answer to my ring the butler served breakfast in my room. Mr. Nicholas
and General Palmora he said had eaten before dawn and gone out in the
wonderful machine, leaving word that they would return for dinner in the
evening. He knew not where they had gone. For once in my life I was
thankful I knew French, else I might have starved.
There was no reason why I should arise, so I lay in bed thinking of this
curious country, trying to imagine what secret business would have
caused Nick to leave me without explanation. The face of Solonika came
repeatedly uppermost in my thoughts. Could one so beautiful, so gentle,
so feminine, be a party to such a terrible deception as my fanciful
suspicions made necessary for her? Those steadfast, honest eyes could
not belong to one who carried within her breast a secret so grave.
Nicholas's talk of sacrilege opened a new line of conjecture. If the
Red Fox were playing so huge a joke upon his countrymen, he was laughing
in the face of a danger most appalling. I had seen him once and I knew
that he was crafty. If his ambition were equal to it, he might not
hesitate even at sacrilege. The very danger might add zest.
Always there recurred to me the memory of Solonika's pain when I took
her hand. Here I was travelling in my endless circle. If I could go
over to Dhalmatia and see the Prince and Princess together all doubts
would be at rest. This vain pursuit of garbled rumour, garnished and
re-garnished in the telling, was worse than useless.
Time hung heavily on my hands during the morning. Castle Framkor seemed
deserted without Nicholas and the General. By lunch time my loneliness
became unbearable and I went for a walk. Subconsciously my feet carried
me toward Dhalmatia, and I came out of my musings on the steps of the
summer-house.
No one answered my knock and I could see through the glass partitions
that the cosy den was vacant. Should I go to the castle? I took to the
driveway, but, when I emerged from the trees and came in sight of the
turrets, my resolution failed me. I remembered the Red Fox's
discourteous treatment and did not care to brave the animal in his lair.
I retreated to the steps of the summer-house and sat down to think.
To be sure Solonika had invited us to renew our visit. She had promised
to have an interview with her father, and from her assurance she led us
to believe that she could not fail. Doubtless if I knocked at the
castle door I would be admitted, but I could not forget my pride. On
the other hand, if I did not go to Dhalmatia, how was I to solve the
mystery which was baffling me? How was I to see the Prince and Princess
together?
"Please, sir," said a woman's voice at my elbow, "the mistress desires
to see you at the castle."
It was Therese, the maid. Solonika had seen me a moment before standing
in full view of the castle; had watched my retreat, and guessed the
cause. Opportunity lay ready to my hand.
"Thank you; I will go," I said.
"To the _porte-cochere_, and knock upon the door," she said, as she
vanished behind the summer-house.
Evidently the persuasive Solonika had been at work and won her expected
victory, for the grim, old butler smiled graciously and bade me enter.
"Would Monsieur the physician desire to see the Prince?" he asked.
Somewhere in the castle the Princess was waiting, expecting my coming.
Why not first see the Prince and then call upon her? Thus might I
satisfy my great desire without arousing suspicion.
"Yes, I would see the Prince," I answered.
The old man bent his back in a half bow and smilingly led me with all
the dignity and speed of a turtle to the Prince's quarters, which
fortunately were but a short distance from the reception hall. If the
ways of those who love the darkness are evil, the Red Fox's ways must
certainly be evil, for the interior of his castle was very dark. The
windows were screened with heavy curtains, permitting little daylight to
enter. My eyes, fresh from the sunlight, had to become accustomed to
the lack of light before I could see my way about. I hung close upon
the heels of my slow guide until he paused in a doorway and announced in
a stately manner:
"Monsieur le doctaire for the Prince."
There was the sound of a chair being moved back as if some one arose. I
bowed upon the threshold, looking swiftly about. The Duke and the
Prince were before me, but Solonika was nowhere to be seen. The Duke
was standing beside a table acknowledging my bow. He was dressed in the
same quaint manner as when I had seen him two days before.
His son, the Prince, remained seated on the opposite side of the table.
His back was toward me, and he did not turn. He was attired in a long,
full-skirted coat of black, black knee breeches with buckles at the
knee, black silk stockings and silver-buckled, low black shoes. Leaning
against the arm of his high-backed carved chair was his sword. It had
evidently been uncomfortable, and was laid aside belt and all. The
Prince's right arm was in a sling.
The two had been interested in a game of cards when I interrupted them.
Judging from the formation of the pasteboards upon the green cloth, they
were playing "double solitaire," that paradoxical game for one which two
or three can play. It is also one of the few games of cards which can be
played with one hand.
The Duke placed a chair at the table beside him and waved me into it
with a gracious smile. When I was seated, the Prince ceased scanning
the cards on the table and looked at me as one would at a stranger. He
was so like Solonika, and yet acted so unlike her, that I was
uncomfortable.
"Raoul, permit me to present Dr. Wharton who took such good care of you
when you were thrown," said the Duke in London English.
The young man and I nodded coldly. Above all things I desired to hear
his voice.
"Do not permit me to interrupt the game," I said, lightly, but it was
the Duke who replied.
"I am more than pleased to see you, Dr. Wharton, if only to extend my
apologies for the affair of yesterday. Servants make sad mistakes
sometimes."
Servants and Grand Dukes were somewhat alike in that respect, I thought,
but I ventured no remark.
"When you were gone, I gave orders to Dajerak, the butler, never to
permit General Palmora to enter this house again. He understood it to
apply to the General's party. I did not know of his action until my
daughter told me of it."
So Solonika had kept her promise to give the old gentleman a talking to.
I was secretly amused at the hard work the Fox was making of it.
"I am pleased you overlooked my boorishness and returned," he concluded.
"It is nothing," I assured him.
"We have few visitors at Dhalmatia," he sighed, "and we would be most
happy to entertain you and that other--American."
Was there just the shadow of a pause mere and a slight narrowing about
the eyelids as he said this? Solonika's efforts were not confined alone
to me. She desired to have the handsome Nicholas call upon her as well.
"Perhaps, in your professional capacity, you will look at the Prince's
wounds," he said.
"If the Prince has no objections," I said.
He was idly toying with his cards, listening with a half smile to the
conversation. When I pointedly addressed him he looked straight at me
with Solonika's eyes. My heart thumped against my ribs, but, when he
spoke in a voice like, yet unlike, his sister's, and in halting broken
English where hers had run smoothly, the illusion was spoiled, and I was
more than half convinced that my quest was a fool's errand.
"I have objections," he said, drawing away.
The Prince, I could see, still suffered considerable pain when he moved
his right arm, which was to be expected. The slight contusions on the
head were healing nicely; and the Duke said that no complications or
internal injuries showed signs of developing.
"Your son will suffer no inconvenience at the coronation," I said in
reply to the Duke's anxious question. "He will be entirely recovered by
that time, I should think, if he remains perfectly quiet."
"You hear, Raoul, you must not run about so much," cried the father.
"I hear," said the boy, with one of Solonika's brightest smiles.
The Duke, seeing that the Prince replied only in monosyllables, became
talkative. He could not do enough for me. He served his best wines and
insisted that I accept several packages of his Turkish cigarettes,
because I happened to praise them. The Prince so far unbent as to accept
a light for his cigarette from my hand. As the blue rings ascended we
became more sociable, and I ventured to ask why the Duke disliked the
General, a character whom I thought all men should admire.
"Palmora," said the Duke, affably, "belongs to the Old Party of
Bharbazonia. In fact he and the Duke of Marbosa are its leaders. They
believe that the safety and future of the Balkans lie in the aid which
Russia can give. Of course they are not blind to the fact that their
benefactor is acting from a selfish motive; that, year by year, Russia
wrests principality after principality from the Turkish domain so that
one day she may absorb the city of Constantinople and so gain control of
the Bosphorus and a southern way to the sea. But they do not seem to
understand that when that day comes Russia will also absorb the little
kingdoms she has set up as her cats-paws to pull her chestnuts from the
fire.
"That will be a sad day for Bharbazonia. I do not look to Russia for
future peace and prosperity, but rather do I reach out toward a
Germo-Austrian alliance. And there is where the Old Party and the New
Party find their point of difference. In attempting to break down what
little influence I had with the people they tell them I have 'Turkish
tendencies,' but that is not true."
It flashed through my mind, as I compared the General's statements with
the Duke's, that there were two sides to the shield. Perhaps there was
something to admire in the Fox after all.
"But the rock upon which we split is the Church," continued the Duke.
"Russia is of our religion--the Greek Church--while Germany and Hungary
are Lutheran and Roman Catholic. I can assure you, Dr. Wharton, that
the Church Patriarch of Bharbazonia does not look with favour upon the
ascension of my son to the throne. Rest assured he would do anything in
his power to prevent it. Hence you understand why I remain within my
castle, seeing no one and being seen by few. But you, sir, are a
foreigner, an American; it does me good to speak with you."
He led me on to talk of the United States, its wealth, resources and
activities. Even the Prince showed signs of interest at my description
of the Great American game of baseball. He said he was familiar with
cricket, having seen it played in England when he was at school.
Fox-hunting was not new; although boar-hunting was the Bharbazonian
pastime. Would I care to go boar-hunting some time with him? I
expressed my delight. He would be happy to have me and also my friend
Fremsted join his party in the last hunt he would have before he was
crowned.
I told him that I would broach the matter to Nicholas, but that I knew
he would gladly accompany the expedition. Would the Princess be of the
party?
"Oh, no," exclaimed the Prince, "women do not hunt the boar. It is much
too dangerous."
During this conversation with the Duke and his son I had not forgotten
the real purpose of my visit. If I did not permit myself to be put off
with subterfuge, now was the time to have the laugh on the General. I
remembered, too, that somewhere in the castle Solonika was waiting,
expecting Therese to bring me to her. "Faint heart ne'er won fair
lady," I thought and I boldly attacked the citadel.
"I should like very much to see your daughter, sir," I said as
innocently as I could. I was watching them closely when I spoke. Not a
movement escaped me. But, if I expected any hesitation or other
evidence that I had trapped them, I was disappointed. There was no
quick look between them; not even the lifting of an eyebrow. Had my
request been the most ordinary in the world they could not have acted
more naturally.
"Raoul, where is your sister now?" said the Duke.
"In her apartment, I think," he replied.
"Do not disturb her," I said, to see if they would accept a loophole of
escape.
"Not at all," returned the Red Fox, "Dajerak will escort you. She would
be disappointed at not seeing you."
In the Bharbazonian dialect he gave the butler the necessary orders and
I arose to follow him.
"We will await your return here," said the Duke.
At the Prince's doorway we turned from the main entrance and continued
into the heart of the castle through darkened corridors. We were going
to the other side of the building, as far as I could judge. From the
number of rooms and archways we passed I fancied that the Princess lived
a long way from the Prince.
Why she wished to seclude herself from the family I could not imagine.
Perhaps my conception of distance was lengthened by the lack of haste on
the part of my guide. Old Dajerak plodded along at his top speed, which
would not have caused a competing snail the least inconvenience, and at
last knocked upon a panelled door. Therese's voice bade us enter.
"Mistress is expecting you," she said as she took my card, and
disappeared through a far door to announce me. Dajerak bowed and
retired, and I listened to his footsteps dragging over the velvet
carpets.
Solonika's reception parlor was totally different from her den in the
summer-house. It was strictly a French room of the Empire period. Red
satin, hand-painted chairs and rococo furniture, heavy and shining with
gilt, gave the prevailing note of elegance. The high walls were
decorated with priceless gobelin tapestries and overhead hung two glass
pendent chandeliers.
I found myself trembling with suppressed excitement. Here was I upon the
eve of a discovery. If there were only one child, that one was now
seated at the far end of the castle playing cards with his father. But
perhaps, after a show of searching for the other, Therese would
reluctantly bring back word that Solonika was out, or indisposed. If,
on the other hand, there were two children Solonika would see me.
The maid was scarcely gone a minute when she returned with my card still
in her hand. The Princess was out, then?
"Mademoiselle bids you enter, monsieur," she said with a bow and a
smile.
My heart leaped as I made ready to follow. She led me into a cosy
little dressing room. There, quietly sewing on some fancy needlework
beside the window, sat Solonika.
In her pale blue, loose-fitting house gown, lazily dangling one
fairy-like slipper from one tiny foot crossed above the other, she
looked more beautiful than ever. It takes laces and loose things to
bring out a woman's femininity. She was looking up at me laughingly,
mockingly I thought. My feelings overcame me for the moment and I found
no words to greet her.
"Ah, Dr. Wharton," she cried gaily, "welcome to my little boudoir. You
must pardon the informality. But I found myself too lazy to dress when
Therese brought your card."
Her pure, perfect English fell upon my ear in marked contrast with the
heavy halting phrases of the Prince's. Could this be the girl, so light
hearted and happy, whom I accused in my thoughts of contemplating a
terrible sacrilege against her church? No, no, no! I was content; aye
even happy to find that I was mistaken. But a moment ago I had seen the
Prince on the other side of the Castle, and now I saw her here before me
calmly sewing. General Palmora was a fool. I could only stare at her,
my joy shining from my eyes.
"Come, come, Dr. Wharton," she laughed, "have you lost your tongue? Sit
down and tell me what you have been doing since last we met."
"I am so glad," I said, "so happy at finding you here."
"Why," she laughed, "where did you expect to find me?"
"No, no," I said, "it's not that. I didn't expect to find you
anywhere--" I paused fearing that I was making a bungle.
"Perhaps I should not have let you come here," she said, the smile
fading. "But somehow I cannot make a stranger of you. I seem to have
known you a long time. But if you prefer that I entertain you in the
drawing room--"
"Please do not," I hastened to say. "I like it very well here."
"You were a long time coming," she pouted.
"Yes," I said, "the butler took me into the Prince's apartments instead
of yours, and your father talked me to death."
Even while the Princess laughed at my expression I fancied I heard the
sound of a cough. Could it be that the Duke himself was listening
behind one of the many doors? I must be more guarded in my
conversation. Then again, a man's imagination will play him many tricks
in a strange castle.
"He apologized, did he not?" asked the girl.
"Handsomely," I said.
"What did the Prince have to say?"
"Nothing much. He is so different from you."
"Is that so? Most people find us very much alike."
"In appearance, yes. But not in dispositions. I think I should know
you were you even in his clothes."
"Do you?" said she. "Some day I shall put them on and try you."
"I wish you would," I said. "You will see that you cannot fool me."
"Where is your Jonathan to-day, David?" she asked.
"Nicholas? He went off somewhere with General Palmora. Perhaps to
Nischon to see Princess Teskla. The General is quite a match-maker. I
verily believe he would like to see Nick married to that young woman."
"You interest me. But since when did Americans hope to mate with
Princesses of the blood?"
"But Nick--" I began--and checked myself just in time. Then another
thought struck me and perhaps came to the surface in the look which I
gave her. "Americans never hope to mate with Princesses of the blood.
They mate with the woman they love. If she happens to be a princess,
that is her misfortune, not his fault."
"The woman they love," she echoed, turning the phrase over in her mind.
Then she flew away on a new tack. "Have you ever met Princess Teskla?"
"No, but I expect to, shortly."
"The Prince will be interested to hear this," she said. "Do you know,
the king, her father, is most anxious to marry his daughter to Raoul?"
"Why, they are first cousins!"
"True, but that makes no difference in marriages of state. His object
is to unite the two houses and keep the throne in his own. When he made
Raoul and me Prince and Princess he had that in his mind, I do believe,
for he did nothing for his own brother, my father. Does Teskla favour
this friend of yours?"
"I cannot say as to that, never having seen them. But Nick has known
her for a number of years."
"Raoul will be pleased, for he detests her."
Therese brought the tea and we chatted away with our small talk until I
remembered that the Duke and the Prince were awaiting my return. I
arose to go.
"When will you be in the summer-house again?" I asked.
"I will be there to-morrow afternoon," she replied. "Will you come?"
"Yes," I almost whispered, and she dropped her gaze before mine.
Therese acted as guide on the return trip and the way did not seem so
long, following her light steps. The Prince and the Duke were still
seated at the table engaged in their game of cards. While I made my
adieus the young man, who looked so much like Solonika that I could not
forbear staring at him, lit his cigarette with his uninjured hand and
returned my stare coldly, almost insolently. His face was wreathed in
smoke as it curled gently upward and vanished in the air.
"Do not forget my invitation to the hunt," he said in his bad English.
Once more I remarked the great contrast.
"We will be glad to see you soon again," said the Red Fox. His smile
was positively warming. If he had been a victorious commander surveying
the wreck his guns had wrought, he could not have appeared more genial.
I thanked them both and found my way to the open air with my illusions
gone. How silently and swiftly had my house of cards come tumbling
about my head. I thought of Solonika, and Nick's fingers coiling about
an imaginary throat, and I was glad; oh, I was glad to find myself
mistaken.
*CHAPTER IX*
*THE KISS IN THE KING'S GARDEN*
O, that a man might know
The end of this day's business, ere it come!
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known.
--_Shakespeare: Julius Caesar_.
Nick and the General were not returned when I reached Framkor Castle,
but they came puffing in for dinner on schedule time. Where they had
been they did not divulge, nor did I question them, feeling that their
rapid comings and goings had to do with the politics of Bharbazonia with
which I was not concerned.
"Sorry to have run away from you, Dale," said Nick, "but needs must when
the Devil drives." He jerked his head in the General's direction.
"Humph," grunted the General.
"What did you do with yourself all day?" asked Nick.
"I have had an enjoyable time. I've been over to Dhalmatia."
"What?" exclaimed the General.
After his warning to me, I suppose the old fellow imagined I would not
care to visit the Red Fox. Neither Nick nor I had told him of the result
of our first visit. Had he known that, the storm clouds gathering upon
his brow would have been twice as dark.
"Yes," I continued, "and I have seen both the Prince and the Princess,
General. The Red Fox was not tricking you when he announced the birth
of twins."
Then I told the story of my afternoon as rapidly as possible. But the
General was not impressed. The aged, as the homely old expression has
it, are frequently "sot in their ways" and I suppose the General had
hugged this favourite delusion to his breast so long that he could not
let it go. When I was through he remarked dryly:
"Then you did not see the Prince and the Princess together, after all?"
"I did not see them standing side by side," I admitted; "but it was
practically the same thing."
"I always told you, General," chimed in Nicholas, "that you were wrong.
I agree with Dale, and you might as well surrender as gracefully as
possible."
But the General refused to surrender.
"'Tis some trick of the Red Fox," he stoutly maintained, and no amount
of argument could move him. He met every advance and escaped every
tight corner with the same reply. In his mind Ananias was a
truth-teller compared with the Duke of Dhalmatia. We finally dropped
the subject, and talked of other matters.
"We are going down to Nischon in the morning, Dale," said Nick. "Do you
want to go along?"
"Indeed I do," I replied. I was anxious to see the capital of which I
had heard so much and more especially the Cathedral in which the Prince
was to be crowned.
Accordingly, when the General awakened us before daylight, I dressed
with alacrity. The sun was just rising when we passed Solonika's
summer-house, but, early as we were, others were abroad ahead of us.
Drawn up on the side of the road, as if to permit us to pass, were six
horsemen, muffled up to the eyes in long Spanish cloaks, their spirited
horses backing, dancing and rearing as we passed. I could not be sure,
but I received the impression that they were not riding forward upon the
road, but waiting. One of their number recognized the General and
saluted him with a familiar wave of the hand. But the General refused
to return the salute. We passed swiftly on.
Although their action was military, the horsemen did not strike me as
being soldiers; for one thing they were not dressed in uniform. Perhaps
they were a party of young nobles out for a lark. They resembled Duke
Marbosa's messenger who had inquired about Nicholas's return. But what
could the gentry be doing on the road at such an unearthly hour in the
morning?
It was a perfect automobiling day, one of those sunshiny mornings when
one is glad to be alive. We passed many estates and small villages on
the way, and the townsfolk had a smile and a hearty cheer for the
General. As we whirled by a roadside tavern a bystander waved his hat
in the air and shouted a greeting.
It sounded as if he said "Long live Palmora!" and the crowd joined in
the general cheer that followed. But all was not love and good
fellowship in this country. We received a rude shock on the outskirts
of this very village.
There, beside a small chapel of the Greek Church, standing in the midst
of a crowded graveyard, was a charred pyre of wood, from the center of
which rose an iron post pointing to the sky. On the top of the post a
gilded Greek cross glistened in the sunlight, unharmed by the smoke and
flames which had raged below.
Tied to the post, blackened and burnt until the flesh had dropped off in
places, exposing the bones beneath, was the naked body of a woman.
Although the fire had been out for days, smoke still found its way
upward, like a gentle blue vapor, fading quickly away. One or two
villagers were leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the
graveyard, but they were more interested in the automobile than in the
terrible scene behind them.
"Look," I cried, pointing it out to Nick.
He touched Teju Okio on the shoulder and the machine was brought to a
standstill as quickly as possible; but we had so far overrun the place
that we had to back to bring it opposite. The General talked with the
idlers and translated their story to me.
"It is the witch of Utrepect," he said. "The priests burnt her at the
stake a week ago for blasphemy. She had considerable influence over the
minds of the villagers, and was undermining their faith. The Patriarch
at Nischon warned her to keep silent. The church excommunicated her and
forbade her to come upon church property. She defied them and last
Sunday cursed the priest of the chapel upon the spot where she now is.
He seized her, aided by his congregation, raised the pyre and burnt her
to death as an example for all men who refuse to listen to the church.
No one is permitted to touch her on pain of death. So there she hangs
until the dogs devour her."
Could it be possible that such barbarism existed in the name of religion
in any European country in this the twentieth century? Had anyone told
me this a few hours before, I would have laughed at him. But here was
the concrete fact before my horrified eyes.
"Drive on, Okio," I cried, sick of the sight. The Jap obeyed.
"That must have been the witch Princess Solonika spoke of as having
prophesied that Raoul would never be king," said Nick, smiling at my
show of disgust. Neither he nor the General seemed to think the
priest's action at all unusual. Cotton Mather had his following even
among the Pilgrim Fathers.
Nischon was a matter of fifty miles from Castle Framkor, but Teju Okio
manipulated his levers to such good purpose that, in spite of the stop
at Utrepect, we came in sight of the ancient city before half past nine.
Nischon in the sunlight was a beautiful city. It burst upon us as we
reached the top of a high hill and we could thus look down upon its roof
tops.
It lay in a valley on both sides of the river they call the Kneister,
the only waterway of importance in Bharbazonia, which flows away to the
south and empties into the Black Sea, at Bizzett, by means of a
subterranean passage through the mountain wall.
The two hills which formed the valley sloped gently down on both sides
to the water edge, leaving no level land anywhere. On the tableland, on
top of these hills, we could see the numerous castles of the nobles,
thrusting their proud stone turrets above the trees like self-appointed
watchdogs of the city.
In all the myriad hives of houses below, one building caught my eye
before the rest and I did not need to be told that it was the Cathedral.
It was a huge structure, standing alone upon a terraced green square on
our side of the river. Four minarets, one on each corner, piercing the
sky, first riveted the attention. They bore aloft great gilded Greek
crosses that flashed the blinding rays of the reflected sun in our eyes
as we moved along the road.
Four great domes made up the main body of the structure, three huddling
together in a single row in front and the fourth rearing its huge bulk
high above the rest in the rear. Like the crosses, the tops of the
domes were gilded and the whole effect was that of a building of gold.
"The Cathedral," Nick informed me, "is one of the oldest buildings in
the country. It is similar in architectural design to the mosque of St.
Sophia which we saw from the yacht as we passed Constantinople. St.
Sophia, considered the oldest Christian church in the world, was
converted by the Mohammedans into a mosque in the sixteenth century."
The palace of the King was also a noticeable building. Like the
Cathedral it was surrounded by its green terrace gardens which held it
aloof from the rest of the houses. It was on the other side of the
river close to the bank. In fact a wall of ancient masonry enclosed the
grounds and rose sheer from the water on the river side. Turrets were
built in this wall at regular intervals, as a protection for the castle
itself, which stood alone in the centre of the grounds, built more for
warfare than for beauty.
The progress of the General in the machine through the streets of
Nischon was like the approach of a conquering hero. Everywhere carters
drew respectfully aside to let us pass. Men stood with uncovered heads,
and women at the windows held their children up to see the great man.
Thirty years had but enhanced the glory of the General's achievements as
the conqueror of the Turks at the head of the Bharbazonian army. Old
men, who had seen service with him during that campaign, cheered and
blessed their leader as he passed; and to these the General kissed his
hand and shouted friendly greeting.
"I would give all I possess," whispered Nick, "to have the love and
respect of the people as the General has."
"Do not despair," I replied; "one day the opportunity may arrive when
you will win their esteem. We are all children of chance."
Green uniformed soldiers guarded the drawbridge which spanned the river
and led to the King's palace. They stood at attention as the heavy car
rolled over the creaking planks. The iron doors in the castle wall
swung back on their rusty hinges, and we passed over a driveway winding
between green well-kept lawns until we came to the palace.
A lieutenant of the King's Guard opened the tonneau door and assisted us
to alight, and a uniformed courier ushered us into the presence of the
King, the mighty hero of the battle at the Turk's Head Inn. Gregory was
seated at the council table with another old man who I learned was
called Nokolovich, a prominent member of the king's official family and
his chief advisor. I suppose in any other country he would have had the
title of Prime Minister.
Both greeted General Palmora effusively and were gravely attentive to
Nicholas. From their manner toward him it was clear that he was known
as a Bharbazonian among them and that he had their respect. I was
formally presented to the King, in whose eyes, curious to say, I found
favour because I was a countryman of General Grant.
"I take great pleasure even now," said the King, "in reading the history
of his battles. His example inspired me in our own wars."
In due time all four plunged into the mysterious business of state which
brought them together, conversing in the Bharbazonian dialect and I had
ample opportunity to observe the great warrior.
Gregory was indeed a commanding figure. Nature meant him to be a king,
for she had given him a stature above his fellows and a lordly mien
which even old age could not destroy. And he was very old. His great
beard, long and white, fell almost to his waist; his snowy locks were
brushed back from his forehead and curled in silvery ringlets upon his
broad shoulders. Time had bent him but little, and had not taken from
him that penetrating glance which suggested his shrewd brother, the Red
Fox of Dhalmatia.
But the King looked like a man who ate and drank too well; in whose
veins the red blood ran too full. And Mother Nature it seems had sent
him her first warning, if one might judge from the lack of control
existing along one side of the body, most plainly visible in the halting
way he moved his left arm and leg. His determination to abdicate, and
bring his life work to a happy conclusion after thirty years of ruling,
showed that he intended to heed the warning and take a well-earned rest.
It was just as well, for the hand that adjusted the glasses to his
dim-visioned eyes shook with a great trembling; it was clear to my
medical mind that he could not withstand a second stroke.
I was glad when Nick's part in the proceedings came to an end, and he
suggested that we take a walk in the gardens overlooking the river. But
I was not long in Nicholas's company. In the gardens we encountered
Princess Teskla, the King's daughter. She came suddenly from the
shrubbery at the side of the gravel walk and stood in our pathway
smiling, her eyes on Nick.
Seldom have I seen a more handsome young woman, and handsome is the
word, for "pretty" or "beautiful" would be too weak to picture her. Like
her father she was cast in a generous mould. There was no denying the
physical attraction of her voluptuous figure and finely chiselled face,
wherein was the suggestion of Spanish beauty due no doubt to her swarthy
skin and coal-black hair. Such beauty as this might Juno have possessed
to dazzle the eyes of the gods on Mount Olympus.
"Nicholas," she cried as she extended her arms toward him, red roses
mantling her cheeks and a smile of happiness parting her full lips.
"Teskla," cried he with equal warmth.
As I watched the friendly greeting it dawned upon me that all Nick's
journeys in the automobile during our stay in Bharbazonia had not in the
past, and would not in the future, be to meetings of the Order at the
Turk's Head tavern.
Has it ever been forced upon you that the old saying is true, "Two is
company and three is a crowd?" If you have ever been so unfortunate you
will understand why I quietly stepped from the path and slipped into the
bushes; and why it was that I continued my walk alone. When next they
thought of me, if they remembered me at all, I had disappeared and I do
not blame them if they were glad.
For my part I too was well content, for I found a comfortable seat on
the low wall overlooking the river. Below me the water rippled over the
pebble bottom, reflecting the flat-roofed houses on the further shore.
It was pleasantly warm in the sun. A few more weeks, and Solonika, with
the Prince and her father, might be walking in these gardens while I--I
should be preparing for my journey back to America to resume my prosaic
practice of medicine. My vacation in Bharbazonia so far had been
pleasantly ideal. Somehow I did not view with joy the idea of leaving
Framkor, the summer-house of Dhalmatia and, last of all, Solonika.
From my position on the wall I had a view of two walks in the garden
which joined at right angles in front of me, one leading from the palace
and the other corning from the depth of the garden. My reverie was
interrupted by the sound of footsteps upon the gravel pavement. The
King, General Palmora and the Prime Minister were approaching. Looking
down the other walk I saw the Princess and Nicholas. Although I could
see both parties, they could not see each other for the foliage.
Just as the King and his friends arrived at the junction, and turned to
go down the walk toward Nicholas and the girl, Nick bent his head and
kissed the Princess upon the mouth. They were totally unaware that they
were observed. She gave a little cry and struggled, not too vigorously,
I thought, to free herself. The three old men stood as if transfixed,
watching the love scene. Nicholas refused to release her, although she
playfully boxed his ears, and in return he kissed her again. Then they
stood apart, looked at each other and laughed aloud.
"Teskla!" shouted the King.
They jumped as if a bomb had been exploded between them, their happy
smiles fading. The Princess acted as if she were about to faint, but
she recovered herself. I could see that she was speaking quickly and in
a low tone to her companion, and that he was heeding what she said.
Then, instead of fronting the King, as I fully expected him to do, Nick
slipped away into the shrubbery and disappeared, leaving the woman to
face her father alone. Truly Nicholas in America and Nicholas in
Bharbazonia were two entirely different fellows.
But there was method in the Princess's madness. That rosy young woman
came timidly to her father's side. He was fumbling with his glasses but
he did not get them adjusted until Nick was gone. But he held them to
his eyes and looked coldly at his daughter. She, too happy to care,
saucily returned his angry stare.
The King asked her one question, which, being in the dialect, I could
not understand. She continued to face him bravely and spoke two words
in reply. It sounded as if she said "Prince Raoul." Whatever her
answer, it had a great effect upon the General and the Prime Minister.
Those two worthies threw up their hands in astonishment, or
remonstrance, but they were silenced by a look from the Princess.
The two words also had a remarkable influence upon the angry father. He
dropped his glasses from his eyes and laughed, his former passion
forgotten like an April shower. He nodded his old white head, rubbed
his hands as if the news pleased him beyond expression, and kissed his
daughter, not where Nick had kissed her, but upon the brow. Together
they retraced their steps. It was all a mystery to me.
When they were at a distance I quietly slipped from my position on the
wall and joined them. But I could not learn what had occurred to please
the King so highly.
"Are we to congratulate Nick?" I whispered to the General, who had
dropped behind with me.
"Shut up," said he, rudely, and then I saw that he was very angry.
On the palace steps we found Nick waiting for us. The Princess waved
her hand to him as if to signal that all was well, and he came
fearlessly forward and walked beside her. He met the General's scowl
with a smile. The King seemed totally unaware that Nick had been the
offender. It was plain that we had to thank a clever woman's quick wit
for saving a difficult situation.
But at what terrible cost I was to learn later!
The King was in high spirits during the luncheon, but the General and
the Prime Minister were inclined to be moody. Princess Teskla and
Nicholas behaved scandalously, I thought, openly "making eyes" at each
other across the table. But on the whole the meal went off as smoothly
as a marriage bell.
It was not until we were homeward bound in the machine that I was able
to get to the bottom of the garden mystery.
"What did the Princess tell the King?" I asked in a whisper, that the
General might not start his lecture again. He had given his godson a
piece of his mind in the home language for the first ten miles, and it
is best to let sleeping dogs lie.
"She is a clever little rogue," whispered Nick, rather proud of the
girl's achievement, "she told him it was Prince Raoul."
"But why was he so pleased?"
"He would like to see Teskla married to Raoul."
"So?" I replied, remembering what Solonika had said. "But does the King
think Prince Raoul is in the habit of visiting her in the gardens
clandestinely?"
"Yes; she has often used that excuse before."
"You are a lucky dog," I said.
But Teskla's little white lie was destined to grow big and bear
unexpected fruit. We had not mastered the secret of the King's great
joy. A little thing like a kiss, it is said, was the cause for one
exodus from a garden; or was it a purloined apple?
*CHAPTER X*
*THE DISCOVERY*
Can this be true? an arch observer cries,--
Yes, rather moved, I saw it with these eyes.
Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;
I could not had I seen it with my own.
--_Cowper: Conversation_.
In spite of his recent flirtation with Princess Teskla, being a
roomy-hearted youth, Nick could not refrain from casting his eyes in the
direction of Solonika's summer-house when we passed Dhalmatia that
afternoon about four o'clock. She was seated at her accustomed place by
the window, and smiled at us in recognition of our friendly bows.
I looked around for the strange horsemen of the morning, but they were
nowhere to be seen. You may believe that I had not forgotten my promise
to meet Solonika in her little den. And I flattered myself that she was
there waiting for me.
"Stop the car, Nick," I said, "and I will find out when the Prince
intends to go on his boar hunt. He will be glad to know that you also
accept his invitation."
"Don't be late for dinner, young man," cautioned the General, whose
worst fault, perhaps, was his worship of promptness. I promised to be
on hand at seven o'clock and stepped into the road. A few yards brought
me in sight of the summer-house, but, when I knocked for admittance, no
one responded. Solonika's chair was empty and the den deserted. Seeing
me pass in the automobile, she had imagined that I would not return and
had evidently gone back to the castle.
I hurried along the driveway toward the castle, keeping a sharp lookout
for the Princess, but she was not to be seen standing or walking on the
lawn. I stopped at the clearing just before you reach the top of the
hill, thinking I had missed her among the trees below and knowing that
she must soon come in view on her way home, but, although I tarried
there long enough to consume two cigarettes, Solonika did not appear.
How she escaped me was a mystery, but, since my fancied excuse for the
visit had to do with the Prince, I determined to go to the castle
directly.
Dajerak, the old butler, greeted me with a smile and bowed me through
the door. I dispensed with his willing but slow services, and made my
way to the apartments of the Prince without standing on ceremony.
Satisfied as to my destination, he went about his business and left me
to my own devices. The Red Fox might not have been pleased had he known
it.
The Prince was not in his apartments. Neither was he in the room
beyond, whither I ventured to go, calling his name. I retraced my steps
to the hallway, but Dajerak was nowhere in sight and I did not know
where to find the Red Fox. Clearly, if I wanted to see the Prince, I
would have to search for him myself. Perhaps the butler had gone to
tell him? I returned to the reception room and sat down in his highback
chair to wait. Then I heard a voice singing a little French love song.
It came faintly to my ears as if the singer were in a room beyond the
Prince's dressing chamber. Entering that apartment I heard the singing
more distinctly and made sure that it was either the Prince or his
sister--their voices as you know were much alike.
"Your Highness," I called, using the title which applied to both, but
the singing went on uninterrupted.
Surely the youth was playing with me, and, for aught I knew, might even
now be laughing behind a curtain. I was positive that the voice came
more particularly from behind a portiere in front of me. Possibly it
screened a door. I pulled it aside and came upon nothing but the
panelled woodwork which formed the walls. The singer in the room beyond
seemed now to be at my very elbow. I was not long in determining the
cause--the centre panel of the wall was on a hinge; the automatic lock
had failed to catch, and the perfectly fitting secret door was partly
ajar.
I stood on the borderland of a great discovery, hesitating to continue
my search. What right had I, a foreigner, to inquire into the secrets
of these Bharbazonians? With Byron, I, too, "loathed that low vice,
curiosity." Trouble walks hand in hand with those unfortunates who have
not acquired the art of minding their own business. Besides, I owed
something to the clear-eyed girl by whose favour I had been received as
a friend within the castle. At the remembrance of her trust in me I
formed my resolution. Dropping the curtain I retired to the outer room
and again seated myself in the Prince's chair to wait until he found me.
Can you go back to the time when you were a child playing the game of
hide and seek with other children of your age? Do you recall how
difficult it was for you to refrain from "peeping" through your little
fingers when you were "hiding your eyes," being that important
individual known as "it?" How you blindly faced the wall, your ears
alert to catch the direction of the sound when one of your playmates
should shrilly pipe "all out?" So it was with me. With a recurrence of
those childish feelings I sat holding the arms of the chair, listening
to the voice as it came faintly to my ears. Truly men are but children
of a larger growth. I found it difficult to maintain my place. Except
for the singer the castle seemed deserted. My desire to know what lay
behind that curtain grew and grew.
Like the mariners who steer their boat upon the hidden rocks, charmed
into carelessness of their danger by a siren voice, I was irresistibly
drawn again toward the secret door. It was so tantalizingly near; the
singer surely was Solonika. An invisible power unloosed my grip upon
the chair, I threw diffidence to the winds, crossed the room with swift
strides, pulled the curtain aside, opened the inviting panel and stepped
through.
But once inside I regretted my rashness and would have given all I
possessed to be back in the Prince's chair. The unexpected sight that
met my astonished eyes brought me to an abrupt standstill. One swift
glance around the room was sufficient to tell me that I had come into
Solonika's little boudoir, where the day before I found her engaged in
fancy needlework. There were the familiar gobelin tapestries, the
pendent chandeliers, the red satin hand-painted chairs. Beside the
window was the same easy chair in which she sat while entertaining me,
and in front of it on the window sill was the very piece of embroidery
upon which she had been working. I recognized it by the centre piece,
held tightly as the head of a drum with the little wooden ring beneath.
On the couch against the wall in front of the portieres lay Solonika's
large French hat and red parasol; beside them was the long tailor-made
coat she wore in the summer-house. In the centre of the floor was the
skirt crumpled in a circular heap just as she had stepped out of it.
In front of the dressing table, close to the window, with her back
toward me stood Solonika herself!
Or was it the Prince?
For a moment I was puzzled as to the identity of the figure before the
mirror. There were the same black silk stockings and black satin knee
breeches which I recognized as belonging to the Prince. Tucked into the
trousers was the white shirt with cuffs attached which Solonika wore
under her tailor-made coat. Her white collar and smoke-coloured
four-in-hand necktie completed the nondescript costume.
Although she had only to slip on her black coat and buckle shoes and
fasten her sword to her side to be dressed as the Prince, I knew that
the person before me was not the Prince but Solonika. For the long red
hair, gathered in the familiar psyche knot at the back, was still upon
her head, making her look absurdly, but daintily, feminine, like a
pretty woman upon the stage who is acting a boy's part without
sacrificing her hair. But the Princess I suppose had long since cut off
her beautiful locks, and had her luxuriant schoolgirl tresses made into
a wig. The short hair of the Prince was all she had left.
So this was the secret of Dhalmatia? The General had been right after
all. Only one child had been born to the Red Fox, and the old nurse had
forfeited her life for telling the truth. This was why the Duke had
attempted to exclude Nick and myself from the castle; this was why he
appeared so anxious when I tried to examine his son upon the couch in
the hallway after the accident, and why he strove to remind her of her
sex by his prolonged cry of "My son! my son!" so that, recovering
consciousness, she might not betray herself. This was why the Duke
hated the General, knowing him to be suspicious.
A great pity welled up in my heart for this slip of a girl with the big,
brown, loving eyes, who had been compelled to live such a life of
deception through the long years of the past; a life in which every act
must be studied and every moment filled with fear; a life in which the
womanhood, in which I knew she gloried, must be put aside for the mock
manhood of the boy.
But I would not do anything to render her burden heavier. My only hope
was to retreat as silently as possible, so that she might not know she
was discovered. And I would keep my own counsel. But even as my mind
reverted to the secret panel, I saw Solonika bend forward and gaze
deeply into the mirror. Her face became reflected upon the glass and
her eyes were wide open with horror. I saw that my presence in her room
was known.
What must have been her feelings when she saw me? Naturally her first
thought must have been that I was a spy sent by General Palmora to do
the work which I had done. Her own doors were locked, as I soon found
out, and she knew that I had come stealthily in through the panel door.
If I should escape by the same means and carry the news of my discovery
to my friends, Bharbazonia would be ringing with her shame in the
morning. Was this to be the end of her years of work? Perhaps she
thought of her father's sorrow at missing the great ambition of his life
on the eve of its fulfilment. God knows what terrible pictures rushed
before her mind in those few swift seconds. One thing only must have
been clear to her. The intruder must not leave the palace. But how was
she to stop me? If she came forward I had but to step backward one step
to be in the other room, and then my way lay unobstructed to the castle
door. Once on the lawn I would be able to escape before her father's
servants could run me down.
She was quick-witted as she was clever, and she had much at stake. She
withdrew her face from the mirror and steadied herself against the
dressing-table while she rapidly thought out a plan to get between me
and the secret door. She could not see me now, but I knew she was
listening to the slightest sound which would indicate that I was
retreating.
"Therese," she called to her maid, who no doubt was in one of the rooms
beyond; the control she had over her voice was wonderful. But the maid
did not reply. Solonika waited, and spoke aloud as if to herself, but
it was for my benefit.
"Where is the girl? Why doesn't she come and dress me? I suppose I
shall have to pick up my own skirt."
With her eyes turned toward the skirt, lying between us, she came toward
me as if to pick it up; but, as she reached for it, she suddenly
straightened up and sprang between me and the panel. There she stood
defiantly at bay, guarding the passage like a magnificent young lioness
defending her cubs. Her eyes gleamed with hatred as she faced me, and I
saw that she held in her hand the long-bladed hunting knife which served
as a letter opener upon her dressing-table.
I watched her fascinated, temporarily unable to lift hand or foot in my
own defence. Her face was working with a passion so terrible that she
no longer looked herself, but like some deeply moved insane person
wrought up to such a pitch of excitement that murder becomes easy. Her
lips were tightly compressed and her eyes blazed with an intensity of
feeling.
With a half articulate cry of a wild beast she flung herself suddenly
upon me, grasping her knife in both hands and raising it high above her
head to give more power to her blow, aimed at my heart.
Had I not been warned by the expression upon her face when she saw me in
the mirror, and been thus partially prepared for her swift attack, I
might have died there at her feet.
*CHAPTER XI*
*THE HIDDEN PASSAGE*
A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of the people!
To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,
And sink beneath a load of splendid care!
To have your best success ascribed to fortune,
And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!
It is to sit upon a joyless height,
To every blast of changing fate exposed!
Too high for hope! Too great for happiness!
--_Hannah More: Daniel_.
When Solonika hurled herself upon my breast she found me ready for her.
I was not overborne by the shock of the encounter, and my eye never lost
track of the knife in its descent. Instinctively I protected my heart
with my elbows and caught her wrists with both hands in a grip of iron.
She struggled like the mad woman she temporarily was, but her recently
dislocated arm robbed her of much of her power and she finally, under
the pressure of my fingers, released her hold upon her weapon. The
knife fell to the carpet between us. I crushed her against my chest as
tightly as I could without hurting her, just as a boxer will run into
clinches with his nimble antagonist to keep from getting hurt. The pain
in her arm, and the knowledge that she was powerless against my strength
in a physical encounter, and weaponless, brought on a quick reaction.
Her body relaxed in my arms and she broke into a torrent of tears, more
hard to bear than her desperate anger.
"Solonika," I whispered, "will you listen to me?"
"No, no, no," she sobbed; "let me go! Let me go."
"If I let you go will you promise not to attempt my life again?"
Sobs were my only answer.
"Solonika," I said, "there is no need for all this show of feeling. I
am not here to harm you or yours. Your secret is safe with me."
Her weeping continued, but I knew that she was listening.
"If I meant to escape, it is in my power to do so. I need but thrust
you aside and leap through the panel. You could not stop me before I
reached my friends. To prove to you that I mean you no ill, I will
release you and permit you to do as you will with me."
I set her upon her feet as I spoke, but I was careful to pick up the
knife and put it in my pocket. Dazed, she stood looking at me through
her tears.
"You know; oh, my God, you know!" she cried.
There was the same look in her eyes which I noticed when she first
detected my presence. But, seeing that I made no move, her old courage
returned. She ran to the wall and pressed an electric button that rang
a bell somewhere in the castle out of hearing. Then she possessed
herself of a silver-mounted revolver which she took from her wardrobe.
Although I knew that, never as long as I lived and she reigned upon her
throne, could she feel that her secret was safe; that at the least I
might be imprisoned for life in the family dungeon, and at the most
condemned to death by her angry father, I made no move to stop her. I
pinned my faith to the hope that I would be able to convince her, and if
necessary, her father, that I would not betray them even to my friends.
"Stand in the centre of the room," she ordered, and I promptly obeyed.
She took up her position against the panel and we faced each other,
waiting. My ready compliance with her curt commands aroused her
suspicions instead of allaying them as I wished. She thought I must
have good reason not to fear her.
"Your friend Nicholas no doubt is waiting you in the Prince's room?" she
flung out. "He too has seen, and you wish to give him time to escape."
My object was not to escape, else I might have lied to her.
"No," I said, "I came alone."
She smiled pityingly upon me, but there was no mistaking the look of
relief which passed over her face. The secret was still within the
keeping of the battlements and there it would stay.
"You fool; oh, you fool," she said. Her contempt was unbearable.
"Aye, fool indeed," I rejoined bitterly, "ever to hope that you would
see and understand. It is true that my presence here indicates that I
have been spying upon your movements. It is true that I suspected you.
But have my subsequent actions been those of a spy? When you were
powerless in my arms a moment ago, did I try to escape? Don't you see
that the show of supremacy you now have over me, I have willingly given
you? Does not your better judgment tell you that I am speaking the
truth?"
"I wish I could believe you," she said; "it would make things easier."
"Do believe me, Solonika," I pleaded. "Palmora did not send me here. I
came alone to see you in the summer-house as I promised, and, not
finding you there, I followed you to the castle. In the Prince's room I
heard you singing and came here without knowing what I was to see."
"I cannot understand you, Dr. Wharton," she said, and I could see that
my words were taking effect; "it is not fear of the consequences that
makes you say this."
"What consequences?" I asked, wishing to learn what she intended doing
with me.
"Of course you know that you can never leave this castle again," she
said.