PINGARI'S
Nine o'clock of a rainy night, on the steep, winding road that climbed
the mountain-side from the walled-in city to the crest on which stood
the famed monastery of St. Valentine,--nine o'clock of a night fraught
with pleasurable anticipation on the part of one R. Schmidt, whose
eager progress up the slope was all too slow notwithstanding the
encouragement offered by the conscienceless Jehu who frequently beat
his poor steeds into a gallop over level stretches and never allowed
them to pause on the cruel grades.
Late in the afternoon there had come to the general post-office a
letter for Mr. R. Schmidt. He had told her that any message intended
for him would reach his hands if directed to the post-office. Since his
arrival in the city, three days before, he had purposely avoided the
main streets and avenues of Edelweiss, venturing forth but seldom from
the Castle grounds, and all because he knew that he could not go abroad
during the day-time without forfeiting the privileges to be enjoyed in
emulation of the good Caliphs of Baghdad. His people would betray their
prince because they loved him: his passage through the streets could
only be attended by respectful homage on the part of every man, woman
and child in the place. If Bedelia were there, she could not help
knowing who and what he was, with every one stupidly lifting his hat
and bowing to him as he passed, and he did not want Bedelia to know the
truth about him until she had answered an all-important question, as
has been mentioned before on more than one occasion in the course of
this simple tale.
Her letter was brief. She merely acquainted him with the fact that she
had arrived in Edelweiss that day from Ganlook, twenty miles away, and
was stopping at the Inn of the Stars outside the city gates and half
way up the mountain-side, preferring the quiet, ancient tavern to the
stately Regengetz for reasons of her own.
In closing she said that she would be delighted to see him when it was
convenient for him to come to her. On receipt of this singularly
matter-of-fact letter, he promptly despatched a message to Miss Guile,
Inn of the Stars, saying that she might expect him at nine that night.
Fortunately for him, the night was wet and blustering. He donned a
rain-coat, whose cape and collar served to cover the lower part of his
face fairly well, and completed his disguise by pulling far down over
his eyes the villainous broad-brimmed hat affected by the shepherds in
the hills. He had a pair of dark eye-glasses in reserve for the crucial
test that would come with his entrance to the Inn.
Stealing away from the Castle at night, he entered the ram-shackle cab
that Hobbs had engaged for the expedition, and which awaited him not
far from the private entrance to the Park. Warders at the gate looked
askance as he passed them by, but not one presumed to question him.
They winked slyly at each other, however, after he had disappeared in
the shadows beyond the rays of the feeble lanterns that they carried.
It was good to be young!
The driver of that rattling old vehicle was no other than the versatile
Hobbs, who, it appears, had rented the outfit for a fixed sum,
guaranteeing the owner against loss by theft, fire or dissolution. It
is not even remotely probable that the owner would have covered the
ground so quickly as Hobbs, and it is certain that the horses never
suspected that they had it in them.
The mud-covered vehicle was nearing the Inn of the Stars when Robin
stuck his head out of the window and directed Hobbs to drive slower.
"Very good, sir," said Hobbs. "I thought as how we might be late after
losing time at the city gates, sir, wot with that silly guard and the--"
"We are in good time, Hobbs. Take it easy."
The lights of the Inn were gleaming through the drizzle not more than a
block away. Robin's heart was thumping furiously. Little chills ran
over him, delicious chills of excitement. His blood was hot and cold,
his nerves were tingling. The adventure!
"Whoa!" said Hobbs suddenly. "'Ello, wot the 'ell is--"
A dark figure had sprung into the road-way near the horses' heads, and
was holding up a warning hand.
"Is this Mr. Schmidt's carriage?" demanded a hoarse, suppressed voice.
"It is," said Hobbs, "for the time being. Wot of it?"
Robin's head came through the window.
"What do you want?"
"Some one is coming out here to meet you, sir. Do not drive up to the
doors. Those are the orders. You are to wait here, if you please."
Then the man shot away into the darkness, leaving the wayfarers
mystified by his words and action.
"Wot am I to do, sir?" inquired Hobbs. "Most hextraordinary orders, and
who the deuce is behind them, that's wot I'd like to know."
"We'll wait here, Hobbs," said Robin, and then put his hand suddenly to
his heart. It was acting very queerly. For a moment he thought it was
in danger of pounding its way out of his body!
Below him lay the lighted city, a great yellow cloud almost at his
feet. Nearer, on the mountain-side were the misty lights in the windows
of dwellers on the slope, and at points far apart the street lamps, dim
splashes of light in the gloom. Far above were the almost obscured
lights of St. Valentine, hanging in the sky. He thought of the monks up
there. What a life! He would not be a monk, not he.
"My word!" exclaimed Hobbs, but instantly resumed his character as
cabby.
A woman came swiftly out of the blackness and stopped beside the cab.
She was swathed in a long gossamer, and hooded. The carriage lamps
gleamed strong against the dripping coat.
"Is it you?" cried Robin, throwing open the door and leaping to the
ground.
"It is I, M'sieur," said the voice of Marie, Miss Guile's French maid.
Bleak disappointment filled his soul. He had hoped for--but no! He
might have known. She would not meet him in this manner.
"What has happened?" he cried, grasping the girl's arm. "Has she--"
"Sh! May we not speak in French?" said Marie, lowering her voice after
a significant look at the motionless cabman. "He may understand
English, M'sieur. My mistress has sent me to say to M'sieur that she
has changed her mind."
"Changed her mind," gasped Robin.
"Yes, M'sieur. She will not receive you at the Inn of the Stars. She
bids you drive to the end of this street, where there is a garden with
a Magyar band, and the most delicious of refreshments to be had under
vine-covered--"
"A public garden?" exclaimed Robin in utter dismay.
"Pingari's, sir," said Hobbs, without thinking. "I know the place well.
It is a very quiet, orderly place--I beg pardon!"
"So he understands French, eh?" cried Marie sharply.
"It doesn't matter," cried Robin impatiently. "Why, in heaven's name,
did she select a public eating-house in which to receive me?"
"If M'sieur chooses to disregard the wishes of--" began the maid, but
he interrupted her.
"I am not accustomed to meeting people in public gardens. I--"
"Nor is my mistress, M'sieur. I assure you it is the first time she has
committed an indiscretion of this kind. May I put a flea in M'sieur's
ear? The place is quite empty to-night, and besides there is the drive
back to the Inn with Mademoiselle. Is not that something, M'sieur?'
"By jove!" exclaimed Robin. "Drive on,--you! But wait! Let me take you
to the Inn, Marie. It--"
"No! I may not accept M'sieur's thoughtful invitation. Bon soir,
M'sieur."
She was off like a flash. Robin leaped nimbly into the cab.
"Pingari's, driver!" he said, his heart thumping once more.
"Very good, sir," and they were off at a lively rate, rattling quite
gaily over the cobble-stones.
Pingari's is the jumping-off place. It stands at the sharp corner of an
elbow in the mountain, with an almost sheer drop of a thousand feet
into the quarries below. A low-roofed, rambling building, once used as
a troop-house for nomadic fighting-men who came from all parts of the
principality on draft by feudal barons in the days before real law
obtained, it was something of a historic place. Parts of the structure
are said to be no less than five hundred years old, but time and
avarice have relegated history to a rather uncertain background, and
unless one is pretty well up in the traditions of the town, he may be
taken in nicely by shameless attendants who make no distinction between
the old and the new so long as it pays them to procrastinate.
As a matter of fact, the walls of the ancient troop-house surround what
is now considered the kitchen, and one never steps inside of them
unless he happens to be connected in a somewhat menial way with the
green grocer, the fish-monger, the butcher or the poultry-man. The
wonderful vine-covered porches, reeking with signs of decay and
tottering with age, are in truth very substantial affairs constructed
by an ancestor of the present Signor Pingari no longer ago than the
Napoleonic era--which is quite recent as things go in Graustark.
Hobbs drove bravely into the court yard, shouted orders to a couple of
hostlers and descended from the box. The Magyar band was playing
blithely to the scattered occupants of the porches overlooking the
precipice.
"'Ere we are, sir," said he to the Prince, as he jerked open the door
of the cab. "Shall I wait, sir?"
"Certainly," said Robin, climbing out. "I am a long way from home, my
good man."
He hurried up the steps and cast an eye about the place. There were no
ladies unattached. As he was about to start on a tour of investigation,
a polite person in brass buttons came up to him.
"Alone, sir?" he inquired pityingly.
"Quite," said Robin, still peering into the recesses.
"Then come with me, if you please. I am directed to escort you to one
who is also alone. This way, sir."
Robin followed him through a door, down a narrow hallway, up a flight
of stairs and out another door upon a small portico, sheltered by a
heavy canvas awning. Two men were standing at the railing, looking down
upon the impressionistic lights of the sunken city. The Prince drew
back, his face hardening.
"What does this mean, sirrah? You said--"
At the sound of his voice the two men turned, stared at him intently
for an instant and then deliberately strode past him, entered the door
and disappeared. The person in brass buttons followed them.
A soft, gurgling laugh fell upon his ears--a laugh of pure delight. He
whirled about and faced--one who was no longer alone.
She was seated at the solitary little table in the corner; until now it
had escaped his notice for the excellent reason that it was outside the
path of light from the open doorway, and the faint glow from the
adjacent porches did not penetrate the quiet retreat.
He sprang toward her with a glad cry, expecting her to rise. She
remained seated, her hand extended. This indifference on her part may
have been the result of cool premeditation. In any event, it served to
check the impulsive ardour of the Prince, who, it is to be feared, had
lost something in the way of self-restraint. It is certain--absolutely
certain--that had she come forward to meet him, she would have found
herself imprisoned in a pair of strong, eager arms,--and a crisis
precipitated. He had to be content with a warm hand-clasp and a smile
of welcome that even the gloom could not hide from his devouring eyes.
"My dear, dear Bedelia," he murmured. "I had almost given you up. Three
long days have I waited for you. You--"
"I have never broken a promise, Rex," she said coolly. "It is you who
are to be commended, not I, for you see I was coming to Graustark
anyway. I should not have been surprised if you had failed me, sir. It
is a long way from Vienna to this out-of-the-way--"
"The most distant spot in the world would not have been too far away to
cause an instant's hesitation on my part," said he, dropping into the
chair opposite her. "I would go to the end of the world, Bedelia."
"But your personal affairs--your business," she protested. "Can you
neglect it so--"
"My business is to find happiness," said he. "I should be neglecting it
indeed if I failed to pursue the only means of attaining it. You are
happiness, Bedelia."
"What would you sacrifice for happiness?" she asked softly.
"All else in the world," he replied steadily. "If I were a king, my
realm should go if it stood between me and--you, Bedelia."
She drew back with a queer little gasp, as if suddenly breathless.
"Wait--wait just for a moment," she said, with difficulty steadying her
voice. "This night may see the end of our adventure, Rex. Let us think
well before we say that it is over. I know, if you do not, that a great
deal depends upon what we are to say to each other to-night. You will
ask me to be your wife. Are you sure that you appreciate all that it
means to you and to your future if I should say yes to that dear
question?"
He looked at her intently. "What do you know, Bedelia?"
"I know that you are the Prince of Graustark and that it is ordained
that you shall wed one whose station is the equal of your own. You must
think well, dear Rex, before you ask Bedelia Guile to be your wife."
"You know that I am--" he began, dully, and then burst into a mirthless
laugh. "And knowing who I am, why do you not leap at the chance to
become the Princess of Graustark? Why not realise an ambition that--"
"Hush! You see how well I considered when I advised you to think before
speaking? You are now saying things that are unworthy of you. You are
forgetting that it is my privilege to say no to the am in search of
happiness. I too--"
He stood up, leaning far over the table, a penetrating look in his eyes.
"How long have you known, Bedelia?"
"Since the second day out on the _Jupiter_," she replied serenely.
He slowly resumed his seat, overwhelmed by the sickening realisation
that his bubble had burst. She had known from the beginning. She had
played with him. She had defied him!
"I know what you are thinking, Rex," she said, almost pleadingly. "You
are thinking ill of me, and you are unjust. It was as fair for me as it
was for you. We played a cautious game. You set about to win my love as
you saw fit, my friend, and am I to be condemned if I exercised the
same privilege? I was no more deliberate, no more reprehensible than
you. Am I more guilty of deceit than you?"
He gave a great sigh of relief. "You are right," he said. "It is my
turn to confess. I have known for many days that you are not Bedelia
Guile. We are quits."
She laughed softly. "I rather like Bedelia. I think I shall keep it as
a good-luck name. We have now arrived at the time for a profound
contemplation of the results of our experiments. In the meantime, I
have had no dinner. I trust that the Prince of Graustark has dined so
lightly that he will not decline to share my repast with me. It has
already been ordered--for two."
"By jove, you--you amaze me!" he exclaimed.
"Please remove that dreadful mackintosh and touch the bell for me. You
see, I am a very prosaic person, after all. Even in the face of
disaster I can have a craving for food and drink. That's better."
In a sort of daze, he tapped the little table bell. A waiter appeared
on the instant.
"Give us more light, waiter," was her command, "and serve dinner at
once."
The lights went up, and Robin looked into her soft, smiling eyes.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't care what happens
to me, Bedelia, I--I shall never give you up. You are worth all the
kingdoms in the world. You are the loveliest, most adorable--"
"Hush! The eyes of your people are upon you. See! Even the waiter
recognises his prince. He is overcome. Ah! He falters with the
consomme. It is a perilous moment. There! I knew something would
happen, poor fellow. He has spilled--but, all is well; he has his wits
again. See! He replenishes from the steaming tureen. We are saved."
Her mood was so gaily satiric, so inconsequential, that he allowed a
wondering, uncertain smile to banish the trouble from his eyes as he
leaned back in the chair and studied the vivid, excited face of the
girl who had created havoc with his senses. She was dressed as he had
seen her on board the _Jupiter_ during those delightful days on deck:
the same trim figure in a blue serge suit and a limp white hat, drawn
well down over her soft brown hair, with the smart red tie and the
never-to-be-forgotten scent of a perfume that would linger in his
nostrils forever and forever.
"Do you think it strange that I should have asked you to meet me here
in this unconventional way instead of at the Inn?" she inquired,
suddenly serious. Again the shy, pleading expression stole into her
eyes.
"I did think so, but no longer. I am glad that we are here."
"Mrs. Gaston is inside," she informed him quickly. "I do not come
alone. An hour ago the Inn became quite impossible as a trysting place.
A small party from the Regengetz arrived for dinner. Can you guess who
is giving the dinner? The great and only William W. Blithers, sir, who
comes to put an obstinate daughter upon the throne of Graustark,
whether she will or no."
"Did he see you?" cried Robin.
"No," she answered, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I stole out
through the back door, and sent Marie out with one of the porters to
head you off. Then I came on here. I didn't even stop to change my
gown."
"Hide and seek is a bully game," said he. "It can't last much longer,
Bedelia. I think it is only right that we should go to your father and
tell him that--everything is all right. It is his due. You've solved
your own problem and are satisfied, so why not reveal yourself. There
is nothing to be gained by further secrecy."
She was watching him closely. "Are you, after all is said and done,
sure that you want to marry the daughter of William Blithers, in the
face of all the bitter consequences that may follow such an act? Think
hard, my dear. She is being forced upon you, in a way. Mr. Blithers'
money is behind her. Your people are opposed to the bargain, for that
is the way in which they will look upon it. They may act very harshly
toward you. The name of Blithers is detested in your land. His daughter
is reviled. Are you sure that you want to marry her, Re--Robin?"
"Are you through?" he asked, transfixing her with a determined look.
"Well, then, I'll answer you. I do want to marry you, and, more than
that, I mean to marry you. I love--"
"You may tell me, Robin, as we are driving back to the Inn
together--not here, not now," she said softly, the lovelight in her
eyes.
Happiness blurred his vision. He was thrilled by an enchantment so
stupefying that the power of speech, almost of thought, was denied him
for the time being. He could only sit and stare at her with prophetic
love in his eyes, love that bided its time and trembled with
anticipation.
Long afterward, as they were preparing to leave Pingari's she said to
him:
"My father is at the Inn, Robin. I ran away from him to-night because I
wanted to be sure that our adventure was closed before I revealed
myself to him. I wanted to be able to say to him that love will find
its way, no matter how blind it is, nor how vast the world it has to
traverse in search of its own. My father is at the Inn. Take me to him
now, Robin, and make the miracle complete."
His fingers caressed her warm cheek as he adjusted the collar of the
long seacoat about her throat and chin. Her eyes were starry bright,
her red lips were parted.
"My Princess!" he whispered tenderly. "My Princess!"
"My Prince," she said so softly that the words barely reached his ears.
"We have proved that Love is the king. He rules us all. He laughs at
locksmiths--and fathers--but he does not laugh at sweethearts. Come, I
am ready."
He handed her into the cab a moment later, and drew the long deep
breath of one who goes down into deep water. Then he followed after
her. The attendant closed the door.
"Where to, sir?" called Hobbs from the driver's seat.
He received no answer, yet cracked his whip gaily over the horses'
backs and drove out into the slanting rain.
Hobbs was a dependable fellow. He drove the full length of the street
twice, passing the Inn of the Stars both times at a lively clip, and
might have gone on forever in his shuttlecock enterprise, had not the
excited voice of a woman hailed him from the sidewalk.
"Stop! _Attendez_! You! Man!"
He pulled up with a jerk. The dripping figure of Marie ran up from
behind.
"My mistress? Where is she?" panted the girl.
"In heaven," said Hobbs promptly, whereupon Marie pounded on the glass
window of the cab.
Robin quickly opened the door.
"Wha--what is it?"
"Yes, Marie," came in muffled tones from the depths of the cab.
"Madame Gaston returns long ago. She is beside herself. She is like a
maniac. She has lost you; she cannot explain to--to Mademoiselle's
father. Mon dieu, when he met her unexpectedly in the hall, he shouts,
'where is my daughter?' And poor Madame she has but to shiver and
stammer and--run away! _Oui_! She dash out into the rain! It is
terrible. She--"
Bedelia broke in upon this jumbled recitation. "Where have we been,
Robin? Where are we now?"
"Where are we, Hobbs?"
"We are just getting back to the Inn of the Stars, sir,--descending,
you might say, sir," said Hobbs.
"Drive on, confound you."
"To the Inn, sir?"
"Certainly!"
The door slammed and the final block was covered in so short a time
that Robin's final kiss was still warm on Bedelia's lips when the
gallant cab rolled up to the portals of the Inn of the Stars.
"Did you ever know such a night, sir?" inquired Hobbs, as the Prince
handed his lady out. He was referring to the weather.