FOUR GENTLEMEN OF IMPORTANCE
Twilight fell late in the tiny Rhaetian village of Alleheiligen. So
high on the mountain side were perched the simple inn and the group of
brown chalets clustering round the big church with its bulbous,
Oriental spire, that they caught the last red rays of sunset and held
them flashing on burnished copper roof plates, and jeweling small,
bright window-panes long after the green valley below was curtained
with shadow.
One September evening, two dusty traveling carriages toiled up the
steep, winding road that led to the highest hamlet of the Rhaetian
Alps, and a girl walking beside the foremost driver (minded, as he
was, to save the jaded horses) looked up to see Alleheiligen
glittering like a necklet of gems on the brown throat of the mountain.
Each window was a great, separate ruby set in gold; the copper bulb
that crowned the church steeple was a burning carbuncle; while above
the flashing band of gorgeous color, the mountain reared its head,
facing westward, its steadfast features carved in stone, the brow
snow-capped and rosy where the sun touched it, blue where the shadows
lay.
The driver assured the young English lady, whom he much admired for
her pluck as well as beauty, that she had far better return to the
carriage; that indeed, she need not have left it. Her extra weight
would be but as that of a feather to the horses, which were used to
carrying far heavier loads than that of to-day, up the steep mountain
road to Alleheiligen in the "high" season of July and August, when
many tourists from all countries came to rest for a night and see the
wonderful view. He even grew voluble in his persuasions, but the girl
still smilingly insisted that she liked walking, and the brown-faced
fellow with the soft green hat and curly cock feather admired her the
more for her firmness and endurance.
She was plainly dressed in gray, which did not show the dust, and
though her skirt and short jacket were well made, and her neat little
hat jaunty and becoming--almost dangerously becoming--she was not
half as grand in appearance as some of the ladies who drove up with
him in July and August. Still, the man said to himself, there was an
air about her--no, he could not describe it even to himself--but it
meant distinction. And then, as she was English, it was as pleasing as
it was remarkable that she could speak Rhaetian so prettily. She had
learned it, she said when he respectfully ventured a question,
because, since she was a child, she had taken an interest in Rhaetian
history and literature. And this seemed strange to him, that so dainty
a lady should have learned such a language for pleasure, because the
people of most countries found it excessively difficult--as difficult
as Hungarian and just enough like German to make it even more
difficult, perhaps. But this English girl said she had picked it up
easily; and the young man's heart warmed to her when she praised
Rhaetian music and Rhaetian poetry.
This was the last touch; this won him wholly; and without stopping
further to analyze or account for his admiration, the driver of the
first carriage found himself bestowing confidences upon his gracious
companion as they slowly tramped up the winding road, the reins looped
over his arm.
He told her of his life; how he had not always lived down there in the
valley and driven tourists for a living. Before he fell in love and
married a valley girl, and had a young family to rear, his house had
been aloft, in Alleheiligen. He was born on the mountain side; his
mother still lived in the village. It was she who kept the inn. Ach,
but a good woman, and a cook to the king's taste--or rather, the
Emperor's taste--if it was her own son who said it.
He was glad that the English ladies would be stopping with her for a
few days at this season. She would make them comfortable, more
comfortable than would be possible at a crowded time, and then,
besides, after the season was over, and the strangers had been
frightened away by the first flurry of snow, the poor mother grew
lonely and tired of idleness. Oh yes, she stayed the winter through.
It was home to her. There were not many neighbors, then, it was true,
yet she would not be happy to go away. Mountain folk never really
learned to love the valleys.
What, the ladies had not written to the inn in advance? Ah, well, that
would not matter at this season. There would be rooms, and to spare;
the ladies could take their choice; and the mother would have a
pleasant surprise. Glad he was that he chanced to be the one to bring
it.
Those who knew Frau Yorvan, know that her larder was never empty of
good things, and that her linen was aired and scented with the dried
lavender blossoms gathered down below. Indeed, she had need to be ever
in readiness for distinguished guests, because sometimes--but the
eloquent tongue of Alois Yorvan was suddenly silent, like the clapper
of a church bell which the ringers have ceased to pull, and his
sunburnt face grew sheepish.
"Because sometimes?" echoed the girl, in her pretty Rhaetian. "What
happens sometimes, that your mother must ever be expecting?"
"Oh," the man stammered a little foolishly, "I was but going to say
that she has sometimes to entertain people of the high nobility, of
different nations. Alleheiligen, though small, is rather celebrated,
you know."
"Has your Emperor been here?" asked the young lady.
"It may be," answered Alois, jauntily. "It may be. Our Emperor has
been to most places."
His companion smiled and put no more questions.
Slowly they climbed on; the two carriages, containing the English
girl's mother, a middle-aged companion, a French maid, and a
reasonable supply of luggage, toiling up behind, the harness jingling
with a faint sound as of fairy bells.
Then at last they came to the inn, a quaint house, half of stone, half
of rich brown shingles; a huge picture, crowded with saints of special
importance to Alleheiligen, painted in once crude, now faded colors,
on a swinging sign. A characteristic, yodeling cry from Alois, sent
forth before the highest turn of the road was reached, brought an
apple-cheeked and white-capped old woman to the door; then it was the
youngest of the travelers who asked, with a pleasant greeting in
Rhaetian, for the best suite of rooms which Frau Yorvan could give.
But to the girl's astonishment the landlady showed none of the delight
her son had predicted. Surprised she certainly was, even startled, and
certainly embarrassed. For an instant she seemed to hesitate before
replying, then her emotion was partly explained by her words.
Unfortunately her best rooms were engaged; four of the bedrooms with
the choicest view, and the one private sitting-room the inn possessed.
But if the ladies would put up with the second best, she would gladly
accommodate them. Was it but for the night? Oh, for several days!
(Again the apple face looked dubious.) Well, if the ladies would
graciously enter, and choose from what she had to offer, she would be
honored.
They did enter and presently wrote their names as Lady Mowbray, Miss
Mowbray, Miss Manchester, and maid. An hour later when the new-comers,
mother, daughter and _dame de compagnie_, sat down to a hot supper in
a bed-chamber hastily but skilfully transformed into a private
dining-room, the youngest of the three remarked to Frau Yorvan upon
the peaceful stillness of her house.
"One would think there wasn't a soul about the place except
ourselves," said she, "yet you've told us you have other guests."
"The gentlemen who are stopping here are away all day long in the
mountains," explained Frau Yorvan. "It is now the time for chamois
hunting and it is for that, and also the climbing of a strange group
of rocks called the Bunch of Needles, only to be done by great
experts, that they come to me."
"They are out late this evening. Aren't you beginning to be a little
anxious about them, if they go to such dangerous places?"
"Oh, to-night, gracious Fräulein, they will not return at all," said
the landlady, warming impulsively to the subject. "They often stop at
a kind of hut they have near the top of the mountain, to begin some
climb they may wish to undertake very early. They are much closer to
it there, you see, and it saves their wasting several hours on the
way. They are constantly in the habit of stopping at the hut, in fine
weather; but they are very considerate; they always let me know their
plans beforehand."
"If they're away so much, I think it a little selfish in them to keep
your one private sitting-room, when you might need it for others,"
remarked the girl.
"Oh, but gracious Fräulein, you must not say that!" cried the old
woman, looking as much shocked as if her young guest had broken one of
the commandments.
The girl laughed. "Why not?" she inquired. "Are the gentlemen of such
importance that they mustn't be criticized by strangers?"
Frau Yorvan was embarrassed. "They are excellent patrons of mine,
gracious Fräulein, that is all I meant," said she. "I cannot bear
that unjust things should be thought of such--good gentlemen."
"I was only joking," the girl reassured her. "We are perfectly
satisfied with this room, which you have made most comfortable.
All I care for is that the famous walks in the neighborhood shall
not be private. I may, at least, walk as much as I like and even
climb a little, I and my friend, Miss Manchester, who is a daring
mountaineer," (with this she threw a glance at the middle-aged lady in
black, who visibly started and grew wild-eyed in response) "for I
suppose that your guests have not engaged the whole Schneehorn for
their own."
The landlady's hospitable smile returned. "No, gracious Fräulein. You
are free to wander as you will, but do not, I beg you, go too far, or
attempt any climbs of real difficulty, for they are not to be done
without guides; and take care you do not stray into wild places where,
by making some movement or sound before you were seen by the hunters,
you might be mistaken for a chamois."
"Even our prowess is hardly likely to lead us into such peril as
that," laughed the girl, who seemed much more friendly and inclined
toward conversation than the two elders of the party. "But please
wake us early to-morrow morning. My friend Miss Manchester and I would
like to have breakfasted and be ready for a start by eight o'clock at
latest."
Again the placid features of the lady in black quivered; and though
she said nothing, Frau Yorvan pitied her. "Would you not wish, in any
case, to have a guide?" she asked. "I could engage you an intelligent
young man who--"
"Thank you, no," broke in the girl, decidedly. "A guide-book is
preferable to a guide, for what we mean to do. We sha'n't attempt any
places which the book says are unsafe for amateurs. But what an
excellent engraving that is over the fireplace, with the chamois horns
above it. Isn't that a portrait of your Emperor when he was a boy?"
The landlady's eyes darted to the picture. "Ach, I had meant to carry
it away," she muttered.
The girl's quick ears caught the words. "Why should you carry it away?
Don't you love the Emperor, that you would put his face out of sight?"
"Not love _Unser Leo_?" cried the old woman, horrified. "Why, we
worship him, gracious Fräulein; we would die for him, any day, all of
us mountain people--and yes, all Rhaetians, I believe. I could not
let you go back to your own land with the idea that we do not love the
noblest Emperor country ever had. As for what I said about the
portrait, I didn't know that I spoke aloud, I am so used to mumbling
to myself, since I began to grow deaf and old. But of course, I wished
it put away only because it is such a poor thing, it does _Unser Leo_
no sort of justice. You--you would not recognize him from that
picture, if you were to see him now."
With this excuse, Frau Yorvan hurried out to fetch another dish, which
she said must be ready; to cool her hot face, and to scold herself for
her stupidity, all the way down-stairs.
She was gone some time; and the girl who had, no doubt unwittingly,
occasioned the old woman's uneasiness, took advantage of her absence
to laugh, excited, happy laughter.
"Poor, transparent old dear, so pleased and proud of her great secret,
which she thinks she's keeping so well!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure she
doesn't dream that she's as easy to read as a book with big, big
print. She's in a sad fright now, lest we inconvenient foreigners
should chance upon her grand gentlemen to-morrow, recognize one of
them from the portrait, and spoil his precious incognito."
"Then--you think that _he_ is really here--in this out of the way
eyrie?" half whispered the Grand Duchess.
"I feel sure he is," answered Princess Virginia.
For a moment there was silence. Then said the Grand Duchess, with an
air of resignation, "Well, I suppose we should be glad--since we have
come to Rhaetia for the purpose of--dear me, I can scarcely bring
myself to say it."
"You may say it, since our dear old lamb of a Letitia knows all about
it, and is in with us," returned Virginia. "But--but I truly didn't
expect to find him _here_. One knows he comes sometimes; it's been in
the papers; but this time they had it that he'd gone to make a week's
visit to poor old General von Borslok at the Baths of Melina; and I
thought, before we went to Kronburg with all our pretty letters of
introduction, as he was away from the palace there, it would be
idyllic to use up the time with a visit to Alleheiligen. I don't want
you and Letitia to think that I was just making catspaws of you both,
and forcing you without knowing, to help me unearth him in his lair.
Still, as he _is_ here--"
"Perhaps he isn't," suggested the Grand Duchess. "I don't see that you
have much ground for fancying so."
"Oh, _ground_!" echoed Virginia, scornfully. "It's instinct that I go
upon, not ground. That woman's face when she saw foreign tourists at
her door, out of season, when she had a right to think she was safe
from invasion. Her stammering about the best rooms being taken; her
wish to get rid of us; her distress that she couldn't possibly do so,
without making matters worse. The way she talks of her 'four
gentlemen.' Her horror at my _lèse majesté_. Her confusion about the
portraits; her wish to impress it upon us that _Unser Leo_ is quite
changed. Instinct ought to be ashamed if it couldn't play detective as
far as that. But--of course we may not see him. If she can help it, we
won't. He won't like being run to earth by tourists, when he is
amusing himself; and perhaps the trusty landlady will send the
intelligent young guide whom I refused, to warn him, so that if he
chooses he can keep out of the way."
"I almost hope she may send," said the Grand Duchess. "I don't think
Providence wills a meeting here. You have brought no pretty dresses. I
_should_ like him to see you first when you look your best, since, to
your mind, so much depends upon his feelings in this matter."
"Our first meeting is--on the knees of the gods," murmured Virginia.
And then Frau Yorvan came into the room with a soufflé.