THE ROYAL COACH OF GRAUSTARK
The two weeks following Beverly Calhoun's advent into the royal
household were filled with joy and wonder for her. Daily she sent
glowing letters to her father, mother and brothers in Washington,
elaborating vastly upon the paradise into which she had fallen. To her
highly emotional mind, the praises of Graustark had been but poorly
sung. The huge old castle, relic of the feudal days, with its turrets
and bastions and portcullises, Impressed her with a never-ending sense
of wonder. Its great halls and stairways, its chapel, the throne-room,
and the armor-closet; its underground passages and dungeons all united
to fill her imaginative soul with the richest, rarest joys of
finance. Simple American girl that she was, unused to the rigorous
etiquette of royalty, she found embarrassment in the first confusion of
events, but she was not long in recovering her poise.
Her apartments were near those of the Princess Yetive. In the private
intercourse enjoyed by these women, all manner of restraint was
abandoned by the visitor and every vestige of royalty slipped from the
princess. Count Halfont and his adorable wife, the Countess Yvonne, both
of whom had grown old in the court, found the girl and her strange
servant a source of wonder and delight.
Some days after Beverly's arrival there came to the castle Harry Anguish
and his wife, the vivacious Dagmar. With them came the year-old cooing
babe who was to overthrow the heart and head of every being in the
household, from princess down. The tiny Dagmar became queen at once, and
no one disputed her rule.
Anguish, the painter, became Anguish, the strategist and soldier. He
planned with Lorry and the ministry, advancing some of the most
hair-brained projects that ever encouraged discussion in a solemn
conclave. The staid, cautious ministers looked upon him with wonder, but
so plausible did he made his proposals appear that they were forced to
consider them seriously. The old Count of Marlanx held him in great
disdain, and did not hesitate to expose his contempt. This did not
disturb Anguish in the least, for he was as optimistic as the
sunshine. His plan for the recapture of Gabriel was ridiculously
improbable, but it was afterwards seen that had it been attempted much
distress and delay might actually have been avoided.
Yetive and Beverly, with Dagmar and the baby, made merry while the men
were in council. Their mornings were spent in the shady park surrounding
the castle, their afternoons in driving, riding and walking. Oftentimes
the princess was barred from these simple pleasures by the exigencies of
her position. She was obliged to grant audiences, observe certain
customs of state, attend to the charities that came directly under her
supervision, and confer with the nobles on affairs of weight and
importance. Beverly delighted in the throne-room and the underground
passages; they signified more to her than all the rest. She was shown
the room in which Lorry had foiled the Viennese who once tried to abduct
Yetive. The dungeon where Gabriel spent his first days of confinement,
the Tower in which Lorry had been held a prisoner, and the monastery in
the clouds were all places of unusual interest to her.
Soon the people of the city began to recognize the fair American girl
who was a guest in the castle, and a certain amount of homage was paid
to her. When she rode or drove in the streets, with her attendant
soldiers, the people bowed as deeply and as respectfully as they did to
the princess herself, and Beverly was just as grand and gracious as if
she had been born with a sceptre in her hand.
The soft moonlight nights charmed her with a sense of rapture never
known before. With the castle brilliantly illuminated, the halls and
drawing-rooms filled with gay courtiers, the harpists at their posts,
the military band playing in the parade ground, the balconies and
porches offering their most inviting allurements, it is no wonder that
Beverly was entranced. War had no terrors for her. If she thought of it
at all, it was with the fear that it might disturb the dream into which
she had fallen. True, there was little or nothing to distress the most
timid in these first days. The controversy between the principalities
was at a standstill, although there was not an hour in which
preparations for the worst were neglected. To Beverly Calhoun, it meant
little when sentiment was laid aside; to Yetive and her people this
probable war with Dawsbergen meant everything.
Dangloss, going back and forth between Edelweiss and the frontier north
of Ganlook, where the best of the police and secret service watched with
the sleepless eyes of the lynx, brought unsettling news to the
ministry. Axphain troops were engaged in the annual maneuvers just
across the border in their own territory. Usually these were held in the
plains near the capital, and there was a sinister significance in the
fact that this year they were being carried on in the rough southern
extremity of the principality, within a day's march of the Graustark
line, fully two months earlier than usual. The doughty baron reported
that foot, horse and artillery were engaged in the drills, and that
fully 8,000 men were massed in the south of Axphain. The fortifications
of Ganlook, Labbot and other towns in northern Graustark were
strengthened with almost the same care as those in the south, where
conflict with Dawsbergen might first be expected. General Marlanx and
his staff rested neither day nor night. The army of Graustark was
ready. Underneath the castle's gay exterior there smouldered the fire of
battle, the tremor of defiance.
Late one afternoon Beverly Calhoun and Mrs. Anguish drove up in state to
the Tower, wherein sat Dangloss and his watchdogs. The scowl left his
face as far as nature would permit and he welcomed the ladies warmly.
"I came to ask about my friend, the goat-hunter," said Beverly, her
cheeks a trifle rosier than usual.
"He is far from an amiable person, your highness," said the
officer. When discussing Baldos he never failed to address Beverly as
"your highness." "The fever is gone and he is able to walk without much
pain, but he is as restless as a witch. Following instructions, I have
not questioned him concerning his plans, but I fancy he is eager to
return to the hills."
"What did he say when you gave him my message?" asked Beverly.
"Which one, your highness?" asked he, with tantalizing density.
"Why, the suggestion that he should come to Edelweiss for better
treatment," retorted Beverly severely.
"He said he was extremely grateful for your kind offices, but he did not
deem it advisable to come to this city. He requested me to thank you in
his behalf and to tell you that he will never forget what you have done
for him."
"And he refuses to come to Edelweiss?" irritably demanded Beverly.
"Yes, your highness. You see, he still regards himself with disfavor,
being a fugitive. It is hardly fair to blame him for respecting the
security of the hills."
"I hoped that I might induce him to give up his old life and engage in
something perfectly honest, although, mind you, Baron Dangloss, I do not
question his integrity in the least. He should have a chance to prove
himself worthy, that's all. This morning I petitioned Count Marlanx to
give him a place in the Castle Guard."
"My dear Miss Calhoun, the princess has--" began the captain.
"Her highness has sanctioned the request," interrupted she.
"And the count has promised to discover a vacancy," said Dagmar, with a
smile that the baron understood perfectly well.
"This is the first time on record that old Marlanx has ever done
anything to oblige a soul save himself. It is wonderful, Miss
Calhoun. What spell do you Americans cast over rock and metal that they
become as sand in your fingers?" said the baron, admiration and wonder
in his eyes.
"You dear old flatterer," cried Beverly, so warmly that he caught his
breath.
"I believe that you can conquer even that stubborn fellow in Ganlook,"
he said, fumbling with his glasses. "He is the most obstinate being I
know, and yet in ten minutes you could bring him to terms, I am sure.
He could not resist you."
"He still thinks I am the princess?"
"He does, and swears by you."
"Then, my mind is made up. I'll go to Ganlook and bring him back with
me, willy-nilly. He is too good a man to be lost in the hills. Good-bye,
Baron Dangloss. Thank you ever and ever so much. Oh, yes; will you write
an order delivering him over to me? The hospital people may
be--er--disobliging, you know."
"It shall be in your highness's hands this evening."
The next morning, with Colonel Quinnox and a small escort, Beverly
Calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for Ganlook, accompanied by
faithful Aunt Fanny. She carried the order from Baron Dangloss and a
letter from Yetive to the Countess Rallowitz, insuring hospitality over
night in the northern town. Lorry and the royal household entered
merrily into her project, and she went away with the godspeeds of
all. The Iron Count himself rode beside her coach to the city gates, an
unheard-of condescension.
"Now, you'll be sure to find a nice place for him in the castle guard,
won't you, Count Marlanx?" she said at the parting, her hopes as fresh
as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. The count promised
faithfully, even eagerly. Colonel Quinnox, trained as he was in the
diplomacy of silence, could scarcely conceal his astonishment at the
conquest of the hard old warrior.
Although the afternoon was well spent before Beverly reached Ganlook,
she was resolved to visit the obdurate patient at once, relying upon her
resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for Edelweiss on
the following morning. The coach delivered her at the hospital door in
grand style. When the visitor was ushered into the snug little room of
the governor's office, her heart was throbbing and her composure was
undergoing a most unusual strain. It annoyed her to discover that the
approaching contact with an humble goat-hunter was giving her such
unmistakable symptoms of perturbation.
From an upstairs window in the hospital the convalescent but unhappy
patient witnessed her approach and arrival. His sore, lonely heart gave
a bound of joy, for the days had seemed long since her departure.
He had had time to think during these days, too. Turning over in his
mind all of the details in connection with their meeting and their
subsequent intercourse, it began to dawn upon him that she might not be
what she assumed to be. Doubts assailed him, suspicions grew into
amazing forms of certainty. There were times when he laughed
sardonically at himself for being taken in by this strange but charming
young woman, but through it all his heart and mind were being drawn more
and more fervently toward her. More than once he called himself a fool
and more than once he dreamed foolish dreams of her--princess or not. Of
one thing he was sure: he had come to love the adventure for the sake of
what it promised and there was no bitterness beneath his suspicions.
Arrayed in clean linen and presentable clothes, pale from indoor
confinement and fever, but once more the straight and strong cavalier of
the hills, he hastened into her presence when the summons came for him
to descend. He dropped to his knee and kissed her hand, determined to
play the game, notwithstanding his doubts. As he arose she glanced for a
flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped.
"Your highness!" he said gratefully.
"How well and strong you look," she said hurriedly. "Some of the tan is
gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. Are you quite
recovered?"
"They say I am as good as new," he smilingly answered. "A trifle weak
and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the
mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you and Graustark?
They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know."
"Turn about is fair play, sir. It is a well-established fact that you
will give _them_ no news. Yes, all is well with me and mine. Were
you beginning to think that I had deserted you? It has been two weeks,
hasn't it?"
"Ah, your highness, I realize that you have had much more important
things to do than to think of poor Baldos, I am exceedingly grateful for
this sign of interest in my welfare. Your visit is the brightest
experience of my life."
"Be seated!" she cried suddenly. "You are too ill to stand."
"Were I dying I should refuse to be seated while your highness stands,"
said he simply. His shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily
and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching
a sword-hilt. Beverly sat down instantly; with his usual easy grace, he
took a chair near by. They were alone in the ante-chamber.
"Even though you were on your last legs?" she murmured, and then
wondered how she could have uttered anything so inane. Somehow, she was
beginning to fear that he was not the ordinary person she had judged him
to be. "You are to be discharged from the hospital to-morrow," she added
hastily.
"To-morrow?" he cried, his eyes lighting with joy. "I may go then?"
"I have decided to take you to Edelweiss with me," she said, very much
as if that were all there was to it. He stared at her for a full minute
as though doubting his ears.
"No!" he said, at last, his jaws settling, his eyes glistening. It was a
terrible setback for Beverly's confidence. "Your highness forgets that I
have your promise of absolute freedom."
"But you are to be free," she protested. "You have nothing to fear. It
is not compulsory, you know. You don't have to go unless you really want
to. But my heart is set on having you in--in the castle guard." His
bitter, mocking laugh surprised and wounded her, which he was quick to
see, for his contrition was immediate.
"Pardon, your highness. I am a rude, ungrateful wretch, and I deserve
punishment instead of reward. The proposal was so astounding that I
forgot myself completely," he said.
Whereupon, catching him in this contrite mood, she began a determined
assault against his resolution. For an hour she devoted her whole heart
and soul to the task of overcoming his prejudices, fears and objections,
meeting his protestations firmly and logically, unconscious of the fact
that her very enthusiasm was betraying her to him. The first signs of
weakening inspired her afresh and at last she was riding over him
rough-shod, a happy victor. She made promises that Yetive herself could
not have made; she offered inducements that never could be carried out,
although in her zeal she did not know it to be so; she painted such
pictures of ease, comfort and pleasure that he wondered why royalty did
not exchange places with its servants. In the end, overcome by the
spirit of adventure and a desire to be near her, he agreed to enter the
service for six months, at the expiration of which time he was to be
released from all obligations if he so desired.
"But my friends in the pass, your highness," he said in surrendering,
"what is to become of them? They are waiting for me out there in the
wilderness. I am not base enough to desert them."
"Can't you get word to them?" she asked eagerly. "Let them come into the
city, too. We will provide for the poor fellows, believe me."
"That, at least, is impossible, your highness," he said, shaking his
head sadly. "You will have to slay them before you can bring them within
the city gates. My only hope is that Franz may be here tonight. He has
permission to enter, and I am expecting him to-day or to-morrow."
"You can send word to them that you are sound and safe and you can tell
them that Graustark soldiers shall be instructed to pay no attention to
them whatever. They shall not be disturbed." He laughed outright at her
enthusiasm. Many times during her eager conversation with Baldos she had
almost betrayed the fact that she was not the princess. Some of her
expressions were distinctly unregal and some of her slips were hopeless,
as she viewed them in retrospect.
"What am I? Only the humble goat-hunter, hunted to death and eager for a
short respite. Do with me as you like, your highness. You shall be my
princess and sovereign for six months, at least," he said,
sighing. "Perhaps it is for the best."
"You are the strangest man I've ever seen," she remarked, puzzled beyond
expression.
That night Franz appeared at the hospital and was left alone with Baldos
for an hour or more. What passed between them, no outsider knew, though
there tears in the eyes of both at the parting. But Franz did not start
for the pass that night, as they had expected. Strange news had come to
the ears of the faithful old follower and he hung about Ganlook until
morning came, eager to catch the ear of his leader before it was too
late.
The coach was drawn up in front of the hospital at eight o'clock,
Beverly triumphant in command. Baldos came down the steps slowly,
carefully, favoring the newly healed ligaments in his legs. She smiled
cheerily at him and he swung his rakish hat low. There was no sign of
the black patch. Suddenly he started and peered intently into the little
knot of people near the coach. A look of anxiety crossed his face. From
the crowd advanced a grizzled old beggar who boldly extended his
hand. Baldos grasped the proffered hand and then stepped into the
coach. No one saw the bit of white paper that passed from Franz's palm
into the possession of Baldos. Then the coach was off for Edelweiss, the
people of Ganlook enjoying the unusual spectacle of a mysterious and
apparently undistinguished stranger sitting in luxurious ease beside a
fair lady in the royal coach of Graustark.