As the cheers which greeted the American's essay on the Rundsee died
down, General Meyer, shod with a pair of high-laced boots fitted with
fine steel blades, sallied forth to the ice, and shook each of the
competitors in turn by the hand. Von Hügelweiler fancied he read
malice in the Commander-in-Chief's eye, but his spirits had sunk too
low to be further depressed by such omens of his imagination. He had
determined to go through with the contest, trusting dimly that his
merits might so far exceed those of his rivals that it would be
morally impossible to withhold the prize from him. But he was
anything but sanguine, for though he believed himself the best skater
present, he felt sure that both his countrymen would run him close,
and that Meyer would award the prize to anyone but himself, if he
could reasonably do so.
The competition,--like most skating competitions,--was divided into
two parts. In the first, the performers had to skate in turn a
number of set figures; in the second they had to skate for a period
of five minutes any figures of their own choosing. In one important
respect the competition differed from others held on the
Continent--it was not held under the auspices of the International
Skating Union.
It is generally accepted that there are two styles of skating, the
English style and the Continental, or, as it is sometimes termed, the
International style. The characteristics of the English school are
an upright carriage, a straight knee, and a general restraint and
rigidity of pose, discountenancing any unnecessary movement of the
arms or the unemployed leg. The Continental style is skated with a
slightly bent knee, with the unemployed leg trailing behind the body,
and considerable gesticulation of the arms. The exponents of the
latter claim a greater gracefulness of execution, a freer and more
beneficial exercise of the muscles, and a wider scope of possible
evolutions. The English stylists claim dignity, severity, and the
capacity of doing difficult things without apparent effort. Both
have their merits and their advocates,--but it is generally accepted
that to skate at all one must employ one of these two distinct
methods,--and practically all skating competitions are held under the
auspices of one or the other school. In Grimland, however, under
General Meyer's influence, a third school had arisen. In this an
effort had been made to combine the speed and steadiness of the
English skaters with the wonderful scope for brilliant and daring
evolutions afforded by the Continental method. In Grimland
competitions, therefore, marks were awarded for the scale on which
figures were described, and the pace at which they were performed;
while, at the same time, reward was offered for those exhilarating
_tours de force_ which are impossible of execution under English
methods. To put it differently, no marks were awarded for style
_qua_ style, but for such things as accuracy, speed, boldness, and
elegance, quite apart from the mechanical methods by which such
excellences were attained.
The first competitor to attempt the set figures was Herr Franz
Schmolder,--a lithe little athlete, who skated with great power and
elegance. On one or two occasions, however, he failed to hold his
edge firmly after a difficult turn, and it was obvious to Von
Hügelweiler that the strained knee which Frau Krabb had made mention
of was bothering him more than a little.
Captain Einstein was the second of the four aspirants, and if,--as
Frau Krabb had insinuated,--his big frame was filled with an undue
proportion of alcoholic nourishment, it did not seem to have impaired
his "back brackets" or spoiled his "rocking turns."
"There's a dash about that fellow that's fine!" remarked Trafford to
Von Hügelweiler, who was standing near him, wrapped during inaction
in a big military ulster.
The Captain of the Guides had already in his own mind ruled Schmolder
out of the competition, exaggerating his faults to himself with
egotistical over-keenness. Einstein, however, was skating so
brilliantly that Von Hügelweiler was beginning to experience the
deepest anxiety lest he should prove the ultimate winner of the
coveted trophy. The anxiety indeed was so deep that he refused to
admit it even to himself.
"Wait till we come to the second part of the competition--the
free-skating," he retorted. "Free-skating requires great nerve,
great endurance, and absolute fitness. It is there that Einstein
will fail."
When Einstein had finished his compulsory figures amid a round of
applause, Von Hügelweiler slipped off his long ulster. For a moment
a bad attack of stage-fright assailed him,--for there is nothing
quite so nerve-racking as a skating competition before a critical
judge and an equally critical audience,--and his heart was turned to
water and his knees trembled with a veritable ague; but a cheer of
encouragement restored him to himself, and he struck out for glory.
With head erect, expanded chest, arms gracefully disposed, and knee
slightly bent, he was about as pretty an exponent of Continental
skating as one could wish to see. He travelled rapidly and easily on
a firm edge, his turns were crispness itself, the elegance of his
methods was patent to the least initiated.
General Meyer following slowly with note-book in hand, smiled
appreciatively, as he jotted down the marks gained from time to time
by his brilliant "counters," "brackets," and "rocking turns." The
crowd roared their applause, and in the music of their cheers, Von
Hügelweiler's depression vanished, and his heart sang an answering
pæan of jubilee. Like most nervous, self-centred men, he most
excelled before an audience when once the initial fear had worn off.
And now he was skating as he had never skated before, with a dash,
energy, and precision that drew redoubled cheers from the spectators
and audible applause from the royal box. Even Meyer, he reflected,
with all his malice, could hardly dare to give another the prize now;
to do so would be not merely to violate justice, but to insult the
intelligence of every man and woman on the ice.
At the conclusion of his effort, Trafford congratulated the Captain
warmly on his performance. Von Hügelweiler's dark eyes shone bright
with pleasure. Already he saw himself crowned with the invisible
laurels of undying fame, receiving the massive silver trophy from the
royal hands.
"Thanks, my American friend," he said, heartily, "go on and prosper."
With a few bold strokes Trafford started on his attempt to do
superbly what others had done faultlessly. His style instantly
arrested attention. Here was no lithe figure full of lissom vitality
and vibrant suppleness; no graceful athlete whose arms and legs
seemed ever ready to adopt fresh and more elegant poses. But here
was an exponent of the ultra-English school, a rigid, braced figure
travelling over the ice like an automaton on skates, an upright,
inflexible form, sailing along on a perfect edge at an amazing speed,
with a look of easy contempt on his face alike for the difficulties
of his art and the opinion of his watchers.
Ever and again there was an almost imperceptible flick of the ankle,
a slight shifting of the angle of the shoulders, and some difficult
turn had been performed, and he was travelling away in a slightly
different direction at a slightly increased rate of speed. The crowd
watched intently, but with little applause. They felt that it was
wonderful, but they did not particularly admire.
To Von Hügelweiler,--trained as he was in the theory and practice of
the "Continental" school,--the performance seemed stiff and ugly.
"Mein Gott," cried Einstein, "at what a speed he travels!"
"He wants a bigger rink than the Rundsee!" exclaimed Schmolder. "A
man like that should have the Arctic Ocean swept for him."
Von Hügelweiler was less complimentary.
"I don't think we need fear the American, my friends," he said. "He
skates his figures fast and big, but with the grace of a dummy. Such
stiffness is an insult to the Rundsee, which is the home of elegant
skating. See with what a frowning face General Meyer follows this
American about!"
"If you can learn anything from Meyer's face," said Captain Einstein
drily, "you should give up the army and go in for diplomacy."
"Wait till he comes to the free-skating!" went on Von Hügelweiler.
"That needs a man with joints and ligaments--not a poker. Our friend
will find himself placed last, I fear; and I am sorry, for he has
come a long way for his skating, and he seems an excellent fellow. I
will say a few words of encouragement to him."
But Trafford had just then momentarily retired from the rink. He was
changing his skates for the pair he had bought at Frau Krabb's the
previous evening.
At the free-skating, which followed, Franz Schmolder broke down
altogether. His knee failed him when he had performed for three
minutes instead of the necessary five. Einstein, who followed, did
well up to a point. But five minutes' free-skating is a fairly
severe test of condition, and the big, burly soldier did not finish
with quite the dash and energy he had begun with. Von Hügelweiler,
however, gave another splendid display of effective elegance, and
again drew resounding cheers for his vigorous and attractive
performance. He himself made no doubt now that he was virtually the
winner of the King's Cup. He had worked hard for his success, and
was already beginning to feel the glow that comes from honourable
effort generously rewarded. Meyer would doubtless be sorry to have
to place him first, but in the face of Einstein's and Schmolder's
comparative failure, and the American's stiffness, no other course
would be open to him. Von Hügelweiler, however, watched Trafford's
free-skating with interest, dreading, with an honest and generous
dread, lest his amiable rival should disgrace himself. To his
astonishment, Trafford was no longer a petrified piece of anatomy
skating with frozen arms and arthritic legs. He beheld instead an
exponent of the Continental school, who seemed to have in his
repertoire a whole armoury of fanciful figures and astounding _tours
de force_. Trafford was as free and unrestrained now as he had been
severe and dignified before. Graceful, lissom, filled with an
inexhaustible, superabundant energy, he performed prodigies of
whirling intricacy, dainty pirouettings, sudden bold leaps, swift
changes of edge, all with such masterful daring and complete success
that the whole ring of spectators cheered itself hoarse with
enthusiasm.
"Bravo! bravo!" cried Von Hügelweiler, clapping him heartily on the
back at the conclusion of his effort. "It is good to see skating
like that! If you had skated the preliminary figures with the same
zeal you have displayed just now, we Grimlanders would have to
deplore the departure of a national trophy from our native land."
Trafford accepted the left-handed compliment in silence, lighting a
cigarette while General Meyer totted up the amount of marks he had
awarded to the several competitors. After a few minutes'
calculation,--and after his figures had been checked by a
secretary,--the General skated back to the front of the royal box and
announced his decision to the King. Then, at a word from his
Majesty, a gentleman in a blue and yellow uniform placed a gigantic
megaphone to his lips, and turning it to the various sections of the
crowd, announced:--
"The King's Prize: the winner is Herr George Trafford; second,
Captain Ulrich Salvator von Hügelweiler."
The American received the announcement with complete outward
calmness. And yet those hoarsely spoken words had touched a chord in
his heart that he had believed snapped and irrevocably broken. For a
moment he lived, for a moment the cheers of his fellow men had
galvanised into healthy activity the dead brain that had lost
interest in all things under the sun. The success itself was a
trivial affair, yet in a magic moment he had become reconciled to
life and its burden, vaguely thankful that he had kept the first
barrel of his revolver free from powder and ball.
"Congratulations, Herr Trafford," said General Meyer, who now
approached him with proffered hand. "Escort me, I beg, to his
Majesty, who will present you with the cup. You will also receive a
royal command to dine to-morrow night at the Palace."
"Congratulations, Herr Trafford," said another voice.
Trafford looked round and beheld the competitor who had been placed
second. The tone of the felicitation was one of undisguised
bitterness, the face of the speaker was the ashen face of a cruelly
disappointed man. And Von Hügelweiler, honestly believing himself
cheated of his due,--and not bearing to see another receive the prize
which he felt should have been his,--slunk from the scene with hate
and misery and all uncharitableness in his tortured soul. Then, as
he took off his skates, the cheering broke out again, and told that
the American was receiving the trophy from the King's hand. An
ejaculation of bitterness and wrath burst from his lips.
Hardly had he breathed his angry word into the frosty air when a
small hand plucked at his fur-lined coat, and looking round he
perceived a charming little face gazing into his own.
"Why so cross, Captain?'" asked the interrupter of his execration.
Captain von Hügelweiler's hand went up to the salute.
"Your Royal High----"
"Hush! you tactless man," said the Princess Gloria, for it was no
other. "Do you want to have me arrested? For the sake of old
times," she went on, putting her arm in his, "I claim your
protection."
But Hügelweiler had not thought of delivering the exiled Princess to
the authorities! For one thing, his mind was too occupied with
self-pity to have room for State interests; secondly, he was still in
love with the fascinating creature who looked up at him so
appealingly, that he would sooner have killed himself than betrayed
the appeal of those wondrous eyes.
They were strolling away from the Rundsee in the direction of the
town, and a straggling multitude of the spectators was streaming
behind them in the snowy Thiergarten.
Von Hügelweiler's lips trembled a little.
"It is good to see you again, Princess," he whispered. "It is
comforting, just when I need comfort."
"Comfort!" echoed his companion with a grimace. "You were swearing,
Ulrich! You are a good sportsman, you should take defeat with better
grace."
"I can accept open defeat, Princess, like a man, though I had set my
heart on the prize. But I was not fairly beaten. The American
skated his figures as ungracefully as they could be skated."
"Why, he skated marvellously," declared the Princess
enthusiastically. "I never saw such speed and daring on the ice.
The man must have been born with skates on. I never saw a finer----"
"Nonsense!" broke in the irate Captain, forgetting both manners and
affection in the extremity of his wrath. "He won because General
Meyer had a grudge against me. He asked me last night to do a dirty
piece of work. In the name of loyalty he wished me to murder a
civilian; but I am a Von Hügelweiler, not an assassin, and I refused,
though I knew that by so doing I was ruining my chances of success
to-day."
The Princess Gloria pressed his arm sympathetically.
"The King's service frequently involves dirty work," she said,
looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.
"So it appears!"
"Why not embrace a service that calls for deeds of valour, and leads
to high honour?"
Von Hügelweiler looked at the bright young face that now was gazing
into his so hopefully. A thousand memories of a youthful ardour,
born amidst the suns and snows of Weissheim, rushed into his kindling
heart. He had lost the King's Cup; might he not wipe out the bitter
memory of defeat by winning something of incomparably greater value?
There was a price, of course; there always was, it seemed. Last
night it was the honour of a clean man; to-day it was loyalty to his
King. But how much greater the present bribe than that offered by
the Commander-in-Chief! The intoxication of desire tempted him,
tempted him all the more shrewdly because of his recent depression.
What had he to do with a career that was tainted with such a head as
the scheming Jew, Meyer? What loyalty did he owe to a man served by
such officers and such method as was Karl? The Princess's eyes
repeated their question, and their silent pleading shook him as no
words could have done.
"What service?" he asked falteringly.
"My service," was the hushed retort.
"And the reward?" he demanded.
"Honour."
"And--love?"
There was silence momentary, but long enough for the forging of a lie.
"Perhaps," she breathed, looking down coquettishly.
A great light shone in the Captain's eyes, and the sombre beauty of
his face was illumined by a mighty joy.
"Princess Gloria," he cried, "I am yours to the death!"