A WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT
One usually has breakfast on the porch of the Hotel Schweizerhof at
Interlaken. It is not the most fashionable hostelry in the quaint
little town at the head of the Lake of Thun, but it is of an excellent
character, and the rolls and honey to be had with one's breakfast can
not be surpassed in the Bernese Oberland. Straight ahead lies one of
the most magnificent prospects in all the world: an unobstructed view
of the snow-thatched Jungfrau, miles away, gleaming white and jagged
against an azure sky, suggesting warmth instead of chill, grandeur
instead of terror. Looking up the valley one might be led to say that
an hour's ramble would take him to the crest of that shining peak, and
yet some men have made a life's journey of it. Others have turned back
in time.
One has a whiff of fragrant woodlands and serene hay-cocks, a breath of
cool air from the Jungfrau's snows, a sniff of delectable bacon and
toast--and a zest for breakfast. And one sets about it with interest,
with the breakfast of the next day as a thing to look forward to.
R. Schmidt sat facing the dejected Boske Dank. His eyes were dancing
with the joy of living, and nothing better can be said of a man's
character than that he is gay and happy at breakfast-time. He who wakes
up, refreshed and buoyant, and eager for the day's adventure, is indeed
a child of nature. He will never grow old and crabbed; he will grip the
hand of death when the time comes with the unconquered zeal that makes
the grim reaper despise himself for the advantage he takes of youth.
"Well, here we are and in spite of that, where are we?" said Dank, who
saw nothing beautiful in the smile of any early morn. "I mean to say,
what have we to show for our pains? We sneak into this Godforsaken
hamlet, surrounded on all sides by abominations in the shape of
tourists, and at the end of twenty-four hours we discover that the fair
Miss Guile has played us a shabby trick. I daresay she is laughing
herself sick over the whole business."
"Which is more than you can say for yourself, Boske," said Robin
blithely. "Brace up! All is not lost. We'll wait here a day or two
longer and then--well, I don't know what we'll do then."
"She never intended to come here at all," said Dank, filled with
resentment. "It was a trick to get rid of us. She--"
"Be honest, old chap and say that it was a trick to get rid of _me_. Us
is entirely too plural. But I haven't lost heart. She'll turn up yet."
"Count Quinnox is in despair over this extraordinary whim of yours,
highness. He is really ill in bed this morning. I--"
"I'll run up and see him after breakfast," cried the Prince, genuinely
concerned. "I'm sorry he is taking it so seriously."
"He feels that we should be at home instead of dawdling about the--"
"That reminds me. Dank," broke in the Prince, fresh happiness in his
smile; "I've decided that home is the place for you and the Count--and
Gourou too. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself,--with some
assistance from Hobbs,--and I don't see any necessity for you three to
remain with me any longer. I'll tell the Count that you all may start
for Vienna tonight. You connect with the Orient express at--"
"Are you mad, highness?" cried Dank, startled out of his dejection.
"What you speak of is impossible--utterly impossible. We cannot leave
you. We were delegated to escort you--"
"I understand all of that perfectly, Dank," interrupted Robin, suddenly
embarrassed, "but don't you see how infernally awkward it will be for
me if Miss Guile does appear, according to plan? She will find me
body-guarded, so to speak, by three surly, scowling individuals whose
presence I cannot explain to save my soul, unless I tell the truth, and
I'm not yet ready to do that. Can't you see what I mean? How am I to
explain the three of you? A hawk-eyed triumvirate that camps on my
trail from morn till night and refuses to budge! She'll suspect
something, old fellow, and--well, I certainly will feel more
comfortable if I'm not watched for the next few days."
"That's the point, highness. You've just got to be watched for the next
few days. We would never dare to show our faces in Graustark again if
we allowed anything to happen to you while you are under our care. You
are a sacred charge. We must return you to Graustark as--er--inviolate
as when you departed. We--we couldn't think of subjecting you to the
peril of a--that is to say, it might prove fatal. Graustark, in that
event, would be justified in hanging two of her foremost citizens and
yours truly from gibbets designed especially for the blackest of
traitors."
"I see, Dank. If I find happiness, you are almost sure to find disgrace
and death, eh? It doesn't seem a fair division, does it? I suppose you
all feel that the worst thing that can possibly happen is for me to
find happiness."
"If I were the Prince of Graustark I should first think of the
happiness of my subjects. I would not offend."
"Well put, Boske, but fortunately you are not the Prince. I sometimes
wish that you were. It would relieve me of a tremendous responsibility.
I am not mean enough, however, to wish a crown upon you, old fellow.
You are lucky to be who and what you are. No one cares what you do, so
long as you are honourable about it. With me it is different. I have to
be watched day and night in order to be kept from doing what all the
rest of the world looks upon as honourable."
"I implore you, highness, to give up this mad enterprise and return to
your people as--"
"There is only one person in the world who can stop me now, Dank."
"And she isn't likely to do so, worse luck," was the other's complaint.
"When she tells me to go about my business, I'll go, but not until
then. Don't you like honey, Dank?"
"No," said Dank savagely. "I hate it." He leaned back in his chair and
glowered upon the innocent, placid Jungfrau. The Prince ate in silence.
"May I be permitted a question, highness?"
"All you like, Boske. You are my best friend. Go ahead."
"Did you see Miss Guile after that visit to St. Cloud--and to the
police station?"
"No. Evidently she was frightened out of her boots by the Hawkshaws. I
don't blame her, do you?"
"And you've had no word from her?"
"None. Now you are going to ask what reason I have for believing that
she will come to Interlaken. Well, I can't answer that question. I
think she'll come, that's all."
"Do you think she is in love with you?"
"Ah, my dear fellow, you are asking me to answer my own prayer," said
Robin, without a sign of resentment in his manner. "I'm praying that
she isn't altogether indifferent. By the way, it is my turn to ask
questions. Are you still in love with her?"
"I am proud to say that you are more in my prayers that she," said
Dank, with a profound sigh. "Nothing could please me more than to be
the one to save my prince from disaster, even if it meant the sacrifice
of self. My only prayer is that you may be spared, sir, and I taken in
your place."
"That was a neat answer, 'pon my soul," cried the Prince admiringly.
"You--Hello, who is this approaching? It is no other than the great
Gourou himself, the king of sleuths, as they say in the books I used to
read. Good morning, Baron."
The sharp-visaged little Minister of Police came up to the table and
fixed an accusing eye upon his sovereign,--the literal truth, for he
had the other eye closed in a protracted wink.
"I regret to inform your majesty that the enemy is upon us," he said.
"I fear that our retreat is cut off. Nothing remains save--"
"She has arrived?" cried the Prince eagerly.
"She has," said the Baron. "Bag and baggage, and armed to the eyes.
Each eye is a gatling-gun, each lip a lunette behind which lies an
unconquerable legion of smiles and rows of ivory bayonets, each ear a
hardy spy, and every nut-brown strand a covetous dastard on the warpath
not for a scalp but for a crown. Napoleon was never so well prepared
for battle as she, nor Troy so firmly fortified. Yes, highness, the foe
is at our gates. We must to arms!"
"Where is she?" demanded Robin, unimpressed by this glowing panegyric.
"At this instant, sir, I fancy she is rallying her forces in the very
face of a helpless mirror. In other words, she is preparing for the
fray. She is dressing."
"The devil! How dare you pry into the secret--"
"Abhorrent thought! I deduce, nothing more. Her maid loses herself in
the halls while attempting to respond to the call for re-inforcements.
She accosts a gentleman of whom she inquires the way. The gentleman
informs her she is on the third, not the second _etage_, and she
scurries away simpering, but not before confiding to me--the aforesaid
gentleman--that her mistress will give her fits for being late with her
hair, whatever that may signify. So, you see, I do not stoop to
keyholes but put my wits to work instead."
"When did she arrive?"
"She came last night via Milan."
"From Milan?" cried Robin, astonished.
"A roundabout way, I'll admit," said the Baron, drily, "and tortuous in
these hot days, but admirably suited to a purpose. I should say that
she was bent on throwing some one off the track."
"And yet she came!" cried the Prince, in exultation. "She wanted to
come, after all, now didn't she, Dank?" He gave the lieutenant a look
of triumph.
"She is more dangerous than I thought," said the guardsman mournfully.
"Sit down, Baron," commanded the Prince. "I want to lay down the law to
all of you. You three will have to move on to Graustark and leave me to
look out for myself. I will not have Miss Guile--"
"No!" exclaimed the Baron, with unusual vehemence. "I expected you to
propose something of the kind, and I am obliged to confess to you that
we have discussed the contingency in advance. We will not leave you.
That is final. You may depose us, exile us, curse us or anything you
like, but still we shall remain true to the duty we owe to our country.
We stay here, Prince Robin, just so long as you are content to remain."
Robin's face was very red. "You shame me, Baron," he said simply. "I am
sorry that I spoke as I did. You are my friends, my loyal friends, and
I would have humbled you in the eyes of my people. I beg your pardon,
and yours, Boske. After all, I am only a prince and a prince is
dependent on the loyalty of such as you. I take back all that I said."
The Baron laid a kindly hand on the young man's shoulder. "I was rough,
highness, in my speech just now, but you will understand that I was
moved to--"
"I know, Baron. It was the only way to fetch me up sharp. No apology is
required. God bless you."
"Now I have a suggestion of my own to offer," said the Baron, taking a
seat at the end of the table. "I confess that Miss Guile may not be
favourably impressed by the constant attendance of three able-bodied
nurses, and, as she happens to be no fool, it is reasonably certain
that she will grasp the significance of our assiduity. Now I propose
that the Count, Dank and myself efface ourselves as completely as
possible during the rest of our enforced stay in Interlaken. I propose
that we take quarters in another hotel and leave you and Hobbs to the
tender mercies of the enemy. It seems to me that--"
"Good!" cried Robin. "That's the ticket! I quite agree to that, Baron."
Dank was prepared to object but a dark look from Gourou silenced him.
"I've talked it over with the Count and he acquiesces," went on the
Baron. "We recognise the futility of trying to induce you to leave at
once for Graustark, and we are now content to trust Providence to watch
over and protect you against a foe whose motives may in time become
transparent, even to the blind."
The irony in the remark was not lost on Robin. He flushed angrily but
held his tongue.
Ten o'clock found the three gentlemen,--so classified by Hobbs,--out of
the Schweizerhof and arranging for accommodations at the Regina Hotel
Jungfraublick, perched on an eminence overlooking the valley and some
distance removed from the temporary abode of the Prince. Their
departure from the hotel in the Hoheweg was accomplished without
detection by Miss Guile or her friends, and, to all intents and
purposes, Robin was alone and unattended when he sat down on the porch
near the telescope to await the first appearance of the enchanting foe.
He was somewhat puzzled by the strange submissiveness of his
companions. Deep down in his mind lurked the disquieting suspicion that
they were conniving to get the better of the lovely temptress by some
sly and secret bit of strategy. What was back of the wily Baron's
motive? Why were they now content to let him take the bit in his teeth
and run wherever he would? What had become of their anxiety, their
eagerness to drag him off to Graustark by the first train? There was
food for reflection in the tranquil capitulation of the defenders. Were
they acting under fresh instructions from Edelweiss? Had the Prime
Minister directed them to put no further obstacle in front of the great
Blithers invasion? Or--and he scowled darkly at the thought--was there
a plan afoot to overcome the dangerous Miss Guile by means more
sinister than subtle?
Enlightenment came unexpectedly and with a shock to his composure. He
had observed the three spirited saddlehorses near the entrance of the
hotel, in charge of two stable-boys, but had regarded them only as
splendid specimens of equine aristocracy. It had not entered his mind
to look upon them as agents of despair.
Two people emerged from the door and, passing by without so much as a
glance in his direction, made their way to the mounting block. Robin's
heart went down to his boots. Bedelia, a graceful figure in a smart
riding habit, was laughing blithely over a soft-spoken remark that her
companion had made as they were crossing the porch. And that companion
was no other than the tall, good-looking fellow who had met her at
Cherbourg! The Prince, stunned and incredulous, watched them mount
their horses and canter away, followed by a groom who seemed to have
sprung up from nowhere.
"Good morning, Mr. Schmidt," spoke a voice, and, still bewildered, he
whirled, hat in hand, to confront Mrs. Gaston. "Did I startle you?"
He bowed stiffly over the hand she held out for him to clasp, and
murmured something about being proof against any surprise. The colour
was slowly returning to his face, and his smile was as engaging as ever
despite the bitterness that filled his soul. Here was a pretty trick to
play on a fellow! Here was a slap in the face!
"Isn't it a glorious morning? And how wonderful she is in this gorgeous
sunlight," went on Mrs. Gaston, in what may be described as a hurried,
nervous manner.
"I had the briefest glimpse of her," mumbled Robin. "When did she come?"
"Centuries and centuries ago, Mr. Schmidt," said she, with a smile. "I
was speaking of the Jungfrau."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, flushing. "I thought you--er--yes, of course!
Really quite wonderful. I have heard it said that she never removes her
night-cap, but always greets the dawn in spotless--ahem! Of course you
understand that I am speaking of the Jungfrau," he floundered.
"Naturally, Mr. Schmidt. And so you came, after all. We were afraid you
might have concluded to alter your plans. Miss Guile will be delighted."
He appeared grateful for the promise. "I have been here for three days,
Mrs. Gaston. You were delayed in leaving Paris?"
"Yes," she said, and changed the subject. "The riding is quite good, I
understand. They are off for Lauterbrunnen."
"I see," said he. "There is a splendid inn there, I am told."
"They will return here for luncheon, of course," she said, raising her
eyebrows slightly. His heart became a trifle lighter at this. "Mr.
White is a lifelong friend and acquaintance of the family," she
volunteered, apropos of nothing.
"Oh, his name is White?" with a quiet laugh.
"If you have nothing better to do, Mr. Schmidt, why not come with me to
the Kursaal? The morning concert will begin shortly, and I--"
"I think you will find that the band plays in the square across the
way, Mrs. Gaston, and not in the Casino. At least, that has been the
programme for the last two mornings."
"Nevertheless, there is a concert at the Casino today," she informed
him. "Will you come?"
"Gladly," he replied, and they set off for the Kursaal. He found seats
in the half-empty pavillion and prepared to listen to the music,
although his real interest was following the narrow highway to
Lauterbrunnen--and the Staubbach.
"This is to be a special concert given at the request of the Grand Duke
who, I hear, is leaving this afternoon for Berne."
"The Grand Duke? I was not aware of the presence of royalty," said he
in surprise.
"No? He has been here for three days, but at another hotel. The Grand
Duke Paulus and his family, you know."
Robin shot a swift, apprehensive glance about the big enclosure,
sweeping the raised circle from end to end. On the opposite side of the
pavillion he discovered the space reserved for the distinguished party.
Although he was far removed from that section he sank deeper into his
chair and found one pretext after another to screen his face from view.
He did know the Grand Duke Paulus and the Grand Duke knew him, which
was even more to the point.
The Prince of Graustark had been a prime favourite of the great man
since his knickerbocker days. Twice as a boy he had visited in the
ducal palace, far distant from Graustark, and at the time of his own
coronation the Grand Duke and his sons had come to the castle in
Edelweiss for a full month's stay. They knew him well and they would
recognise him at a glance. At this particular time the last thing on
earth that he desired was to be hailed as a royal prince.
Never, in all his life, had he known the sun to penetrate so brightly
into shadows as it did to-day. He felt that he was sitting in a perfect
glare of light and that every feature of his face was clear to the most
distant observer.
He was on the point of making an excuse to leave the place when the
ducal party came sauntering down the aisle on their way to the reserved
section. Every one stood up, the band played, the Grand Duke bowed to
the right and to the left, and escape was cut off. Robin could only
stand with averted face and direct mild execrations at the sunlight
that had seemed so glorious at breakfast-time.
"He is a splendid-looking man, isn't he?" Mrs. Gaston was saying. She
was gazing in rapt admiration upon the royal group.
"He is, indeed," said Robin, resolutely scanning a programme, which he
continued to hold before his face. When he sat down again, it was with
his back to the band. "I don't like to watch the conductors," he
explained. "They do such foolish things, you know."
Mrs. Gaston was eyeing him curiously. He was bitterly conscious of a
crimson cheek. In silence they listened to the first number. While the
applause was at its height, Mrs. Gaston leaned forward and said to him:
"I am afraid you are not enjoying the music, Mr. Schmidt. What is on
your mind?"
He started. "I--I--really, Mrs. Gaston, I am enjoying it. I--"
"Your mind has gone horse-back riding, I fear. At present it is between
here and Lauterbrunnen, jogging beside that roaring little torrent
that--"
"I don't mind confessing that you are quite right," said he frankly.
"And I may add that the music makes me so blue that I'd like to jump
into that roaring torrent and--and swim out again, I suppose," he
concluded, with a sheepish grin.
"You are in love."
"I am," he confessed.
She laid her hand upon his. Her eyes were wide with eagerness. "Would
it drive away the blues if I were to tell you that you have a chance to
win her?"
He felt his head spinning. "If--if I could believe that--that-" he
began, and choked up with the rush of emotion that swept through him.
"She is a strange girl. She will marry for love alone. Her father is
determined that she shall marry a royal prince. That much I may confess
to you. She has defied her father, Mr. Schmidt. She will marry for
love, and I believe it is in your power to awaken love in that adorable
heart of hers. You--"
"For God's sake, Mrs. Gaston, tell me--tell me, has she breathed a word
to you that--"
"Not a single word. But I know her well. I have known her since she was
a baby, and I can read the soul that looks out through those lovely
eyes. Knowing her so well, I may say to you--oh, it must be in the
strictest confidence!--that you have a chance. And if you win her love,
you will _have_ the greatest treasure in all the world. She--but, look!
The Grand Duke is leaving. He--"
"I don't care what becomes of the Grand Duke," he burst out. "Tell me
more. Tell me how you look into her soul, and tell me what you see--"
"Not now, sir. I have said enough. I have given you the sign of hope.
It remains with you to make the most of it."
"But you--you don't know anything about me. I may be the veriest
adventurer, the most unworthy of all--"
"I think, Mr. Schmidt, that I know you pretty well. I do not require
the aid of Diogenes' lantern to see an honest man. I am responsible for
her welfare. She has been placed under my protection. For twenty years
I have adored her. I am not likely to encourage an adventurer."
"I must be honest with you, Mrs. Gaston," he said suddenly. "I am not--"
She held up her hand. "Mr. Totten has informed me that you are a
life-long friend of Mrs. Truxton King. I cabled to her from Paris.
There is no more to be said."
His face fell. "Did she tell you--everything?"
"She said no more than that R. Schmidt is the finest boy in all the
world." Suddenly her face paled. "You are never--_never_ to breathe a
word of this to--to Bedelia," she whispered.
"But her father? What will he say to--"
"Her father has said all that can be said," she broke in quietly. "He
cannot force her to marry the man he has selected. She will marry the
man she loves. Come now! Let us go. I am tired of the music."
"Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Gaston," he cried, with shining eyes. "God
bless you!"
She gave him a queer look. "You must not think that your task is an
easy one," she said meaningly. "There are other men in the world, you
know."