JUST WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED
Even the most flamboyant of natures may suffer depression at times, and
by the same token arrogance may give way to humility,--or, at the very
least, conviction.
Mr. Blithers had had a trying day of it. To begin with, his wife raked
him over the coals for what she was pleased to call his senseless
persistence in the face of what she regarded as unalterable opposition
on the part of the Cabinet and House of Nobles. It appears that he had
experienced a second encounter with the Ministry only the day before.
After sleeping over the results of his first visit to the Council
Chamber, he awoke to the fact that matters were in such a condition
that it behooved him to strike while the iron was hot. So he obtained a
second hearing, principally because he had not slept as well over it as
he would have liked, and secondarily because he wanted to convince
himself that he could parade their ancient halls without feeling as
self-conscious as a whipped spaniel.
He came off even worse in his second assault upon the ministry, for
this time the members openly sneered at his declarations. As for his
progress through the enchanted halls he was no end worse off than
before. It so happened that he arrived at the castle at the very hour
when the ladies and gentlemen of the royal household were preparing to
fare forth to the tennis courts. He came upon them, first on the
terrace, then in the entrance, and later on was stared at with evident
curiosity by white flanneled and duck-skirted persons in the lofty
halls. He wished that he was back at Blitherwood where simplicity was
not so infernally common.
He made the mistake of his life when he gave to his wife the details of
this second conference with the Cabinet. He did it in the hope that a
sympathetic response would be forthcoming. To his surprise, she merely
pitied him, but in such a disgustingly personal way that he wondered if
he could ever forgive her.
"Can't you appreciate what I am doing for Maud?" he argued, almost
tearfully.
"I can appreciate what you are doing _to_ her," said she, and swept out
of the room.
"It's bad enough to have one stubborn woman in the family," said he to
himself, glaring at the closed door--which had been slammed, by the
way,--"but two of 'em--Good Lord!"
And so it was that Mr. Blithers, feeling in need of cheer, arranged a
little dinner for that evening, at the Inn of the Stars. He first
invited his principal London lawyer and his wife--who happened to be
_his_ principal--and then sent a more or less peremptory invitation to
the President of the Bank of Graustark, urging him to join the party at
the Regengetz and motor to the Inn. He was to bring his wife and any
friends that might be stopping with them at the time. The banker
declined. His wife had been dead for twenty years; the only friends he
possessed were directors in the bank, and they happened to be having a
meeting that night. So Mr. Blithers invited his secondary London
lawyer, his French lawyer and two attractive young women who it appears
were related to the latter, although at quite a distance, and then
concluded that it was best to speak to his own wife about the little
affair. She said she couldn't even think of going. Maud might arrive
that very night and she certainly was not going out of the hotel with
such an event as that in prospect.
"But Simpson's wife is coming," protested Mr. Blithers, "and
Pericault's cousins. Certainly you must come. Jolly little affair to
liven us up a bit. Now Lou,--"
"I am quite positive that Lady Simpson will change her mind when she
hears that Pericault's cousins are going," said Mrs. Blithers acidly.
"Anything the matter with Pericault's cousins?" he demanded, inclined
to the bellicose.
"Ask Pericault," she replied briefly.
He thought for a moment. "If that's the case, Lou, you'll have to come,
if only to save my reputation," he said. "I didn't think it of
Pericault. He seems less like a Frenchman than any man I've ever known."
Mrs. Blithers relented. She went to the dinner and so did Lady Simpson,
despite Pericault's cousins, and the only ones in the party who
appeared to be uneasy were the cousins themselves. It is safe to say
that it was not the rain that put a dampener on what otherwise might
have been an excessively jovial party.
Stupendous was the commotion at the Inn of the Stars when it became
known that one of the richest men in the world--and a possible
father-in-law apparent to the crown,--was to honour the place with his
presence that night. Every one, from the manager down to the boy who
pared potatoes, laid himself out to make the occasion a memorable one.
The millionaire's table was placed in the very centre of the
dining-room, and plates were laid for eight. At the last minute, Mr.
Blithers ordered the number increased to nine.
"My daughter may put in an appearance," he explained to Lady Simpson.
"I have left word at the hotel for her to come up if by any chance she
happens to arrive on the evening train."
"Haven't you heard from her, Mr. Blithers?" inquired the austere lady,
regarding the top of his head with an illy-directed lorgnon.
They were entering the long, low dining-room. Mr. Blithers resented the
scrutiny: It was lofty and yet stooping. She seemed to be looking down
upon him at right angles, due no doubt to her superior height and to
the fact that she had taken his arm.
"We have," said he, "but not definitely. She is likely to pop in on us
at any moment, and then again she's likely not to. My daughter is a
very uncertain person, Lady Simpson. I never seem to be able to put my
finger upon her."
"Have you ever tried putting the whole hand upon her?" inquired her
ladyship, and Mr. Blithers stared straight ahead, incapable of replying.
He waited until they were seated at the table and then remarked: "I am
sorry you got splashed, Lady Simpson. You'd think they might keep the
approach to a place like this free of mud and water."
"Oh, I daresay the gown can be cleaned, Mr. Blithers," she said. "I am
quite ready to discard it, in any event, so it really doesn't matter."
"My dear," said he to his wife, raising his voice so that diners at
nearby tables could not help hearing what he said, "I forgot to tell
you that we are expected to dine with the Prince at the Castle." Then
he wondered if any one in the room understood English.
"When?" she inquired.
"Very shortly," said he, and she was puzzled for a moment by the stony
glare he gave her.
Lord Simpson took this opportunity to mention that he had taken
reservations for the return of himself and wife to Vienna on the next
day but one.
"We shall catch the Orient Express on Friday and be in London by
Monday," he said. "Our work here is completed. Everything is in
ship-shape. Jenkins will remain, of course, to attend to the minor
details, such as going over the securities and--"
"Don't you like that caviare?" asked Mr. Blithers with some asperity.
"It has a peculiar taste," said Lord Simpson.
"Best I've ever tasted," said Mr. Blithers, spreading a bun thickly.
Pericault's cousins were fingering the champagne glasses. "We've got
sherry coming first," said he.
"Everything satisfactory, M'sieur Blithers?" inquired the _maitre
d'hotel_ softly, ingratiatingly, into his left ear.
"Absolutely," said Mr. Blithers with precision. "You needn't hurry
things. We've got the whole evening ahead of us."
Lady Simpson shivered slightly. The Pericault cousins brightened up.
There was still a chance that the "dowagers" would retire early from
the scene of festivity.
"By the way," said Simpson, "how long do you purpose remaining in
Edelweiss, Blithers?"
For the first time, the capitalist faltered. He was almost ready to
admit that his enterprise had failed in one vital respect. The
morning's experience in the Council Chamber had shaken his confidence
considerably.
"I don't know, Simpson," said he. "It is possible that we may leave
soon."
"Before the Prince's dinner?" inquired Lady Simpson, again regarding
his bald spot through the lorg-non.
"Depends on what my daughter has to say when she gets here," said he
almost gruffly. "If she wants to stay for a while, we will remain. I
don't mind saying that I have a curious longing for Wall Street. I am
at home there and--well, by George, I'm like a fish out of water here."
His wife looked up quickly, but did not speak.
"I am a business man, Lady Simpson, not a philanderer. I'd like to take
this town by the neck and shake some real enterprise into it, but what
can you do when everybody is willing to sit down and let tradition look
after 'em? I've put a lot of money into Grosstock and I'd like to see
the country prosper. Still I'm not worried over my investment. It is as
good as gold."
"Perfectly safe," said Lord Simpson.
"Absolutely," said the secondary London lawyer.
Pericault's comment was in French and not intended to be brief, but as
Mr. Blithers was no longer interested, the privilege of completing his
remarks was not accorded him. He did say _Mon dieu_ under his breath,
however, in the middle of his employer's next sentence.
"As I said before, everything depends on whether my daughter wants to
remain. If she says she wants to stay, that settles the point so far as
I am concerned. If she says she doesn't want to stay, we'll--well, that
will settle it also. I say, waiter, can't you hurry the fish along?"
"Certainly, sir. I understood M'sieur to say that there was no hurry--"
"Well, pour the champagne anyway. I think we need it."
Two hours later, Mr. Blithers looked at his watch again. The party was
quite gay: at least fifty percent disorderly.
"That train has been in for an hour," said the host. "I guess Maud
didn't come. I left word for the hotel to call me up if she arrived--I
say, waiter, has there been a telephone message for me?"
"No, M'sieur. We have kept a boy near the telephone all evening,
M'sieur. No message."
"I also told 'em to send up any telegram that might come," he informed
his wife, who merely lifted her eyebrows. They had been lowered
perceptibly in consequence of the ebullience of Pericault's cousins.
The vivacious young women were attracting a great deal of attention to
their table. Smart diners in the immediate neighbourhood appeared to be
a trifle shocked. Three dignified looking gentlemen, seated near the
door, got up and left the room.
"We really must be going," said Mrs. Blithers nervously, who had been
watching the three men for some time with something akin to dismay in
her soul. She had the sickening notion that they were members of the
Cabinet--lords of the realm.
"All right," said Mr. Blithers, "Call the cars up, waiter. Still
raining?"
"Yes, M'sieur. At this season of the year--"
"Call the cars. Let's have your bill."
Pericault's cousins were reluctant to go. In fact, they protested
shrilly that it was silly to break up such a successful party at such
an unseemly hour.
"Never mind," whispered Pericault softly, and winked.
"I'll leave 'em in your care, Pericault," said Mr. Blithers grimly.
"They are _your_ cousins, you know."
"Trust me implicitly. Monsieur," said Pericault, bowing very deeply.
Then he said good-night to Mrs. Blithers and Lady Simpson. The
secondary London lawyer did the same.
Out in the wide, brilliantly lighted foyer, a few late-stayers were
waiting for their conveyances to be announced. As the four departing
members of the Blithers party grouped themselves near the big doors,
impatient to be off, a brass-buttoned boy came up and delivered a
telegram to the host.
He was on the point of tearing open the envelope when his eyes fell
upon two people who had just entered the hall from without, a man and
woman clad in raincoats. At the same instant the former saw Mr.
Blithers. Clutching his companion's arm he directed her attention to
the millionaire.
"Now for it, Bedelia," he whispered excitedly.
Bedelia gazed calmly at Mr. Blithers and Mr. Blithers gazed blankly at
the Prince of Graustark. Then the great financier bowed very deeply and
called out:
"Good evening, Prince!"
He received no response to his polite greeting, for the Prince was
staring at Bedelia as if stupefied. The millionaire's face was very red
with mortification as he turned it away.
"He--he doesn't recognise you," gasped Robin in amazement.
"Who?" she asked, her eyes searching the room with an eager, inquiring
look.
"Your father," he said.
She gave him a ravishing, delighted smile.
"Oh, it is so wonderful, Robin. I have fooled you completely. That man
isn't my father."
"That's Mr. Blithers or I am as blind as a bat," he exclaimed.
"Is it, indeed? The one reading the telegram, with his eyes sticking
out of his head?"
Robin's head was swimming. "Good heaven, Bedelia, what are you--"
"Ah!" she cried, with a little shriek of joy. "See! There he is!"
One of the three distinguished men who had been remarked by Mrs.
Blithers now separated himself from his companions and approached the
couple. He was a tall, handsome man of fifty. Although his approach was
swift and eager, there was in his face the signs of wrath that still
struggled against joy.
She turned quickly, laid her hand upon the Prince's rigid arm, and said
softly:
"My father is the Prince of Dawsbergen, dear."
* * * * *
A crumpled telegram dropped from Mr. Blithers' palsied hand to the
floor as he turned a white, despairing face upon his wife. The
brass-buttoned boy picked it up and handed it to Mrs. Blithers. It was
from Maud.
"We were married in Vienna today. After all I think I shall not care to
see Graustark. Channie is a dear. I have promised him that you will
take him into the business as a partner. We are at the Bristol.
"Maud."
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Prince of Graustark, by George Barr McCutcheon