"You were always on the hunt for ideals, too, as I remember; hope
you'll find her."
"Max, my boy, I am solemnly convinced that I have."
"Good Lord, you don't mean to tell me that you are _hooked_?" he cried.
"I see no reason why you should use that particular tone," I answered
stiffly.
"Oh, come now; tell me all about it. Who is she, and when's the
wedding?"
"I don't know when the wedding's going to be, but I'm mighty sure that
I have met the one girl. Max, there never was a girl like her. Witty
she is, and wise; as beautiful as a summer's dawn; merry and brave;
rides, drives, plays the 'cello, dances like a moon-shadow; and all
that,"--with a wave of the hand.
"You've got it bad. Remember how you used to write poetry at college?
Who is she, if I may ask?"
"The Honorable Betty Moore, at present the guest of her Highness, the
Princess Hildegarde,"--with pardonable pride.
Max whistled. "You're a lucky beggar. One by one we turn traitor to
our native land. A Britisher! I never should have believed it of you,
of the man whose class declamation was on the fiery subject of
patriotism. But is it all on one side?"
"I don't know, Max; sometimes I think so, and then I don't."
"How long have you known her?"
"Little more than a month."
"A month? Everything moves swiftly these days, except European railway
cars."
"There's a romance, Max, but another besides her is concerned, and I
can not tell you. Some day, when everything quiets down, I'll get you
into a corner with a bottle, and you will find it worth while."
"The bottle?"
"Both."
"From rumors I've heard, this princess is a great one for larks; rides
bicycles and automobiles, and generally raises the deuce. What sort is
she?"
"If you are going to remain in Barscheit, my boy, take a friendly
warning. Do not make any foolish attempt to see her. She is more
fascinating than a roulette table."
This was a sly dig. Max smiled. A recent letter from him had told of
an encounter with the goddess of Monte Carlo. Fortune had been all
things but favorable.
"I'm not afraid of your princess; besides, I came here to study."
"And study hard, my boy, study hard. Her Highness is not the only
pretty woman in Barscheit. There's a raft of them."
"I'll paddle close to the shore," with a smile.
"By the way, I'll wake you up Thursday."
"How?"--lazily.
"A bout at Müller's Rathskeller. Half a dozen American lads, one of
whom is called home. Just fixed up his passports for him. You'll be
as welcome as the flowers in the spring. Some of the lads will be in
your classes."
"Put me down. It will be like old times. I went to the reunion last
June. Everything was in its place but you. Hang it, why can't time
always go on as it did then?"
"Time, unlike our watches, never has to go to the jeweler's for
repairs," said I owlishly.
Max leaned over, took my bull-terrier by the neck and deposited him on
his lap.
"Good pup, Artie--if he's anything like his master. Three years, my
boy, since I saw you. And here you are, doing nothing and lallygagging
at court with the nobility. I wish I had had an uncle who was a
senator. 'Pull' is everything these days."
"You Dutchman, I won this place on my own merit,"--indignantly.
"Forget it!"--grinning.
"You are impertinent."
"But truthful, always."
And then we smoked a while in silence. The silent friend is the best
of the lot. He knows that he hasn't got to talk unless he wants to,
and likewise that it is during these lapses of speech that the vine of
friendship grows and tightens about the heart. When you sit beside a
man and feel that you need not labor to entertain him it's a good sign
that you thoroughly understand each other. I was first to speak.
"I don't understand why you should go in for medicine so thoroughly.
It can't be money, for heaven knows your father left you a yearly
income which alone would be a fortune to me."
"Chivalry shivers these days; the chill of money is on everything. A
man must do something--a man who is neither a sloth nor a fool. A man
must have something to put his whole heart into; and I despise money as
money. I give away the bulk of my income."
"Marry, and then you will not have to," I said flippantly.
"You're a sad dog. Do you know, I've been thinking about epigrams."
"No!"
"Yes. I find that an epigram is produced by the same cause that
produces the pearl in the oyster."
"That is to say, a healthy mentality never superinduces an epigram?
Fudge!" said I, yanking the pup from his lap on to mine. "According to
your diagnosis, your own mind is diseased."
"Have I cracked an epigram?"--with pained surprise.
"Well, you nearly bent one," I compromised. Then we both laughed, and
the pup started up and licked my face before I could prevent him.
"Did I ever show you this?"--taking out a locket which was attached to
one end of his watch-chain. He passed the trinket to me.
"What is it?" I asked, turning it over and over.
"It's the one slender link that connects me with my babyhood. It wag
around my neck when Scharfenstein picked me up. Open it and look at
the face inside."
I did so. A woman's face peered up at me. It might have been
beautiful but for the troubled eyes and the drooping lips. It was
German in type, evidently of high breeding, possessing the subtle lines
which distinguish the face of the noble from the peasant's. From the
woman's face I glanced at Max's. The eyes were something alike.
"Who do you think it is?" I asked, when I had studied the face
sufficiently to satisfy my curiosity.
"I've a sneaking idea that it may be my mother. Scharfenstein found me
toddling about in a railroad station, and that locket was the only
thing about me that might be used in the matter of identification. You
will observe that there is no lettering, not even the jeweler's usual
carat-mark to qualify the gold. I recall nothing; life with me dates
only from the wide plains and grazing cattle. I was born either in
Germany or Austria. That's all I know. And to tell you the honest
truth, boy, it's the reason I've placed my woman-ideal so high. So
long as I place her over my head I'm not foolish enough to weaken into
thinking I can have her. What woman wants a man without a name?"
"You poor old Dutchman, you! You can buy a genealogy with your income.
And a woman nowadays marries the man, the man. It's only horses, dogs
and cattle that we buy for their pedigrees. Come; you ought to have a
strawberry mark on your arm," I suggested lightly; for there were times
when Max brooded over the mystery which enveloped his birth.
In reply he rolled up his sleeve and bared a mighty arm. Where the
vaccination scar usually is I saw a red patch, like a burn. I leaned
over and examined it. It was a four-pointed scar, with a perfect
circle around it. Somehow, it seemed to me that this was not the first
time I had seen this peculiar mark. I did not recollect ever seeing it
on Max's arm. Where had I seen it, then?
"It looks like a burn," I ventured to suggest.
"It is. I wish I knew what it signifies. Scharfenstein said that it
was positively fresh when he found me. He said I cried a good deal and
kept telling him that I was Max. Maybe I'm an anarchist and don't know
it,"--with half a smile.
"It's a curious scar. Hang me, but I've seen the device somewhere
before!"
"You have?"--eagerly. "Where, where?"
"I don't know; possibly I saw it on your arm in the old days."
He sank back in his chair. Silence, during which the smoke thickened
and the pup whined softly in his sleep. Out upon the night the
cathedral bell boomed the third hour of morning.
"If you don't mind, Artie," said Max, yawning, "I'll turn in. I've
been traveling for the past fortnight."
"Take a ride on Dandy in the morning. He'll hold your weight nicely.
I can't go with you, as I've a lame ankle."
"I'll be in the saddle at dawn. All I need is a couple of hours
between sheets."
As I prodded my pillow into a comfortable wad under my cheek I wondered
where I had seen that particular brand. It was a brand. I knew that I
had seen it somewhere, but my memory danced away when I endeavored to
halter it. Soon I fell asleep, dreaming of somebody who wasn't Max
Scharfenstein, by a long shot.
V
That same evening the grand duke's valet knocked on the door leading
into the princess' apartments, and when the door opened he gravely
announced that his serene Highness desired to speak to the Princess
Hildegarde. It was a command. For some reason, known best to herself,
the princess chose to obey it.
"Say that I shall be there presently," she said, dismissing the valet.
As she entered her uncle's study--so called because of its dust-laden
bookshelves, though the duke sometimes disturbed their contents to
steady the leg of an unbalanced chair or table--he laid down his pipe
and dismissed his small company of card-players.
"I did not expect to see you so soon," he began. "A woman's curiosity
sometimes has its value. It takes little to arouse it, but a great
deal to allay it."
"You have not summoned me to make smart speeches, simply because I have
been educated up to them?"--truculently.
"No. I have not summoned you to talk smart, a word much in evidence in
Barscheit since your return from England. For once I am going to use a
woman's prerogative. I have changed my mind."
The Princess Hildegarde trembled with delight. She could put but one
meaning to his words.
"The marriage will not take place next month."
"Uncle!"--rapturously.
"Wait a moment,"--grimly. "It shall take place next week."
"I warn you not to force me to the altar," cried the girl, trembling
this time with a cold fury.
"My child, you are too young in spirit and too old in mind to be
allowed a gateless pasture. In harness you will do very well." He
took up his pipe and primed it. It _was_ rather embarrassing to look
the girl in the eye. "You shall wed Doppelkinn next week."
"You will find it rather embarrassing to drag me to the altar,"--evenly.
"You will not," he replied, "create a scandal of such magnitude. You
are untamable, but you are proud."
The girl remained silent. In her heart she knew that he had spoken
truly. She could never make a scene in the cathedral. But she was
determined never to enter it. She wondered if she should produce the
bogus certificate. She decided to wait and see if there were no other
loophole of escape. Old _Rotnäsig_? Not if she died!
When these two talked without apparent heat it was with unalterable
fixedness of purpose. They were of a common race. The duke was
determined that she should wed Doppelkinn; she was equally determined
that she should not. The gentleman with the algebraic bump may figure
this out to suit himself.
"Have you no pity?"
"My reason overshadows it. You do not suppose that I take any especial
pleasure in forcing you? But you leave me no other method."
"I am a young girl, and he is an old man."
"That is immaterial. Besides, the fact has gone abroad. It is now
irrevocable."
"I promise to go out and ask the first man I see to marry me!" she
declared.
"Pray Heaven, it may be Doppelkinn!" said the duke drolly.
"Oh, do not doubt that I have the courage and the recklessness. I
would not care if he were young, but the prince is old enough to be my
father."
"You are not obliged to call him husband." The duke possessed a
sparkle to-night which was unusual in him. Perhaps he had won some of
the state moneys which he had paid out to his ministers' that day.
"Let us not waste any time," he added.
"I shall not waste any,"--ominously.
"Order your gown from Vienna, or Paris, or from wherever you will.
Don't haggle over the price; let it be a good one; I'm willing to go
deep for it."
"You loved my aunt once,"--a broken note in her voice.
"I love her still,"--not unkindly; "but I must have peace in the house.
Observe what you have so far accomplished in the matter of creating
turmoil." The duke took up a paper.
"My sins?"--contemptuously.
"Let us call them your transgressions. Listen. You have ridden a
horse as a man rides it; you have ridden bicycles in public streets;
you have stolen away to a masked ball; you ran away from school in
Paris and visited Heaven knows whom; you have bribed sentries to let
you in when you were out late; you have thrust aside the laws as if
they meant nothing; you have trifled with the state papers and caused
the body politic to break up a meeting as a consequence of the
laughter."
The girl, as she recollected this day to which he referred, laughed
long and joyously. He waited patiently till she had done, and I am not
sure that his mouth did not twist under his beard. "Foreign education
is the cause of all this," he said finally. "Those cursed French and
English schools have ruined you. And I was fool enough to send you to
them. This is the end."
"Or the beginning,"--rebelliously.
"Doppelkinn is mild and kind."
"Mild and kind! One would think that you were marrying me to a horse!
Well, I shall not enter the cathedral."
"How will you avoid it?"--calmly.
"I shall find a way; wait and see." She was determined.
"I shall wait." Then, with a sudden softening, for he loved the girl
after his fashion: "I am growing old, my child. If I should die, what
would become of you? I have no son; your Uncle Franz, who is but a
year or two younger than I am, would reign, and he would not tolerate
your madcap ways. You must marry at once. I love you in spite of your
wilfulness. But you have shown yourself incapable of loving.
Doppelkinn is wealthy. You shall marry him."
"I will run away, uncle,"--decidedly.
"I have notified the frontiers,"--tranquilly. "From now on you will be
watched. It is the inevitable, my child, and even I have to bow to
that."
She touched the paper in her bosom, but paused.
"Moreover, I have decided," went on the duke, "to send the Honorable
Betty Moore back to England."
"Betty?"
"Yes. She is a charming young person, but she is altogether too
sympathetic. She abets you in all you do. Her English independence
does not conform with my ideas. After the wedding I shall notify her
father."
"Everything, everything! My friends, my liberty, the right God gives
to every woman--to love whom she will! And you, my uncle, rob me of
these things! What if I should tell you that marriage with me is now
impossible?"--her lips growing thin.
"I should not be very much surprised."
"Please look at this, then, and you will understand why I can not marry
Doppelkinn." She thrust the bogus certificate into his hands.
The duke read it carefully, not a muscle in his face disturbed.
Finally he looked up with a terrifying smile.
"Poor, foolish child! What a terrible thing this might have turned out
to be!"
"What do you mean?"
"Mean? Do you suppose anything like this could take place without my
hearing of it? And such a dishonest unscrupulous rascal! Some day I
shall thank the American consul personally for his part in the affair.
I was waiting to see when you would produce this. You virtually placed
your honor and reputation, which I know to be above reproach, into the
keeping of a man who would sell his soul for a thousand crowns."
The girl felt her knees give way, and she sat down. Tears slowly
welled up in her eyes and overflowed, blurring everything.
The duke got up and went over to his desk, rummaging among the papers.
He returned to the girl with a letter.
"Read that, and learn the treachery of the man you trusted."
The letter was written by Steinbock. In it he disclosed all. It was a
venomous, inciting letter. The girl crushed it in her hand.
"Is he dead?" she asked, all the bitterness in her heart surging to her
lips.
"To Barscheit,"--briefly. "Now, what shall I do with this?"--tapping
the bogus certificate.
"Give it to me," said the girl wearily. She ripped it into halves,
into quarters, into infinitesimal squares, and tossed them into the
waste-basket. "I am the unhappiest girl in the world."
"I am sorry," replied the grand duke. "It isn't as if I had forced
Doppelkinn on you without first letting you have your choice. You have
rejected the princes of a dozen wealthy countries. We are not as the
common people; we can not marry where we will. I shall announce that
the marriage will take place next week."
"Do not send my friend away," she pleaded, apparently tamed.
"I will promise to give the matter thought. Good night."
She turned away without a word and left him. When he roared at her she
knew by experience that he was harmless; but this quiet determination
meant the exclusion of any further argument. There was no escape
unless she ran away. She wept on her pillow that night, not so much at
the thought of wedding Doppelkinn as at the fact that Prince Charming
had evidently missed the last train and was never coming to wake her
up, or, if he did come, it would be when it was too late. How many
times had she conjured him up, as she rode in the fresh fairness of the
mornings! How manly he was and how his voice thrilled her! Her horse
was suddenly to run away, he was to rescue her, and then demand her
hand in marriage as a fitting reward. Sometimes he had black hair and
eyes, but more often he was big and tall, with yellow hair and the
bluest eyes in all the world.