CLEAR SKIES
The Duke of Matz and his associates reached Edelweiss in the afternoon.
Their attendants and servants carried luggage bearing the princely crest
of Dawsbergen, and meant for Prince Dantan and his sister Candace. In
the part of the castle set apart for the visitors an important
consultation was held behind closed doors. There Dantan met his
countrymen and permitted them to renew the pledge of fealty that had
been shattered by the overpowering influence of his mad
half-brother. What took place at this secret meeting the outside world
never knew. Only the happy result was made known. Prince Dantan was to
resume his reign over Dawsbergen, as if it never had been interrupted.
The castle, brilliant from bottom to top, filled with music and
laughter, experienced a riot of happiness such as it had not known in
years. The war clouds had lifted, the sunshine of contentment was
breaking through the darkness, and there was rejoicing in the hearts of
all. Bright and glorious were the colors that made up the harmony of
peace. Men and women of high degree came to the historic old walls,
garbed in the riches of royalty and nobility. To Beverly Calhoun it was
the most enchanting sight she had ever looked upon. From the galleries
she gazed down into the halls glittering with the wealth of Graustark
and was conscious of a strange feeling of glorification. She felt that
she had a part in this jubilee. With Candace she descended the grand
staircase and mingled with the resplendent crowd.
She was the center of attraction. Dressed in a simple, close-fitting
gown of black velvet, without an ornament, her white arms and shoulders
gleaming in the soft light from the chandeliers, she was an enticing
creature to be admired by men and women alike. Two stalwart Americans
felt their hearts bound with pride as they saw the conquest their
countrywoman was making. Candace, her constant companion in these days,
was consumed with delight.
"You are the prettiest thing in all this world," she ecstatically
whispered into Beverly's ear. "My brother says so, too," she added
conclusively. Beverly was too true a woman not to revel in this subtle
flattery.
The great banquet hall was to be thrown open at midnight. There was
dancing and song during the hours leading up to this important
event. Beverly was entranced. She had seen brilliant affairs at home,
but none of them compared to this in regal splendor. It was the
sensuous, overpowering splendor of the east.
Prince Dantan joined the throng just before midnight. He made his way
direct to the little circle of which Beverly and Candace formed the
center. His rich, full military costume gave him a new distinction that
quite overcame Beverly. They fell into an animated conversation,
exchanging shafts of wit that greatly amused those who could understand
the language.
"You must remember," Beverly said in reply to one of Ravone's sallies,
"that Americans are not in the least awed by Europe's greatness. It has
come to the pass when we call Europe our playground. We now go to Europe
as we go to the circus or the county fair at home. It isn't much more
trouble, you know, and we must see the sights."
"Alas, poor Europe!" he laughed. As he strolled about with her and
Candace he pointed out certain men to her, asking her to tax her memory
in the effort to recall their faces if not their apparel. She readily
recognized in the lean, tired faces the men she had met first at the Inn
of the Hawk and Raven.
"They were vagabonds then, Miss Calhoun. Now they are noblemen. Does the
transition startle you?"
"Isn't Baldos among them?" she asked, voicing the query that had been
uppermost in her mind since the moment when she looked down from the
galleries and failed to see him. She was wondering how he would appear
in court costume.
"You forget that Baldos is only a guard," he said kindly.
"He is a courtier, nevertheless," she retorted.
She was vaguely disappointed because he was missing from the scene of
splendor. It proved to her that caste overcame all else In the
rock-ribbed east. The common man, no matter how valiant, had no place in
such affairs as these. Her pride was suffering. She was as a queen among
the noblest of the realm. As the wife of Baldos she would live in
another world--on the outskirts of this one of splendor and arrogance.
A stubborn, defiant little frown appeared on her brow as she pictured
herself in her mind's eye standing afar off with "the man" Baldos,
looking at the opulence she could not reach. Her impetuous, rebellious
little heart was thumping bitterly as she considered this single phase
of the life to come. She was ready to cry out against the injustice of
it all. The little frown was portentous of deep-laid designs. She would
break down this cruel barrier that kept Baldos from the fields over
which prejudice alone held sway. Her love for him and her determination
to be his wife were not in the least dulled by these reflections.
The doors to the great banquet-hall were thrown open at last and in the
disorder that followed she wondered who was to lead her to the
feasting. The Duke of Mizrox claimed the Princess Candace.
"I am to have the honor," said someone at her side, and the voice was
the one she least expected to hear utter the words. The speaker was the
man who deserved the place beside Yetive--Prince Dantan himself.
Bewildered, her heart palpitating with various emotions, she took his
arm and allowed herself to be drawn wonderingly through the massive
doors. As they entered, followed by the brilliant company, the superb
orchestra that Beverly had so often enjoyed, began to play the stirring
"Hands Across the Sea." The musicians themselves seemed to have caught
the universal feeling of joy and mirth that was in the air, and played
as if inspired, their leader bowing low to the young American girl as
she passed. It was his affectionate tribute to her. Prince Dantan, to
her amazement, led her up the entire length of the banquet hall, to the
head of the royal table, gorgeous with the plate of a hundred Graustark
rulers, placing her on his left and next to the slightly raised royal
chairs. Candace was on his right, the picture of happiness. Beverly felt
dizzy, weak. She looked helplessly at Prince Dantan. His smile was
puzzling. As if in a daze, she saw Grenfall Lorry with the Countess
Yvonne standing exactly opposite to her, he with the others, awaiting
the appearance of the princess and the one who was to sit beside her.
The music ceased, there was a hush over the room, and then Yetive came
forward, magnificent in her royal robes, smiling and happy. A tall man
in the uniform of an exalted army officer stood beside her, gold braid
and bejeweled things across his breast. Beverly turned deathly white,
her figure stiffened and then relaxed.
It was Baldos!
She never knew how she dropped into the chair the servant held for
her. She only knew that his dark eyes were smiling at her with love and
mischief in their depths. There was a vague, uncertain sound of
chattering; someone was talking eagerly to her, but she heard him not;
there was a standing toast to the Prince of Dawsbergen; then the
audacious ghost of Baldos was proposing a ringing response to the
Princess Yetive; the orchestra was playing the Graustark and Dawsbergen
national hymns. But it was all as a dream to her. At last she heard
Candace calling to her, her face wreathed in smiles. Scores of eyes
seemed to be looking at her and all of them were full of amusement.
"Now, say that a girl can't keep a secret," came to her ears from the
radiant sister of Dantan. Ravone, at her side, spoke to her, and she
turned to him dizzily.
"You first knew me as Ravone, Miss Calhoun," he was saying
genially. "Then it became necessary, by royal command, for me to be
Prince Dantan. May I have the honor of introducing myself in the proper
person? I am Christobal of Rapp-Thorburg, and I shall be no other than
he hereafter. The friendship that binds me to Prince Dantan, at last in
his proper place beside the Princess of Graustark, is to be strengthened
into a dearer relationship before many days have passed."
"The Princess Candace ceases to be his sister," volunteered the Duke of
Mizrox. "She is and long has been his affianced wife."
Enchanted and confused over all that had occurred in the last few
moments, Beverly murmured her heartfelt congratulations to the joyous
couple. The orchestra had again ceased playing. All eyes turned to
Baldos,--the real Prince Dantan,--who, glass in hand, rose to his feet.
"Your Royal Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen: Graustark and Dawsbergen are
entering a new era. I pledge you my honor that never again shall the
slightest misunderstanding exist between them. They shall go forth to
their glorious destiny as one people. Your gracious ruler has seen fit
to bestow her hand and affections upon an American gentleman, your
esteemed prince consort. We all know how loyally the people have
approved her choice. There is one present, a trusted friend of your
beautiful princess, and lovingly called in your hearts, Beverly of
Graustark. Whose example more worthy for me to follow than that of the
Princess Yetive? With whom could I better share my throne and please you
more than with your beloved American protege. I ask you to drink a toast
to my betrothed, Beverly Calhoun, the future Princess of Dawsbergen."
Every glass was raised and the toast drunk amidst ringing cheers. The
military band crashed out the air so dear to all Americans, especially
to southern hearts. Beverly was too overcome to speak.
"You all--!" she exclaimed.
There was a tremendous commotion in the gallery. People were standing in
their seats half frightened and amused, their attention attracted by the
unusual scene. A portly negress totally unconscious of the sensation she
was causing, her feet keeping time to the lively strains of music, was
frantically waving a red and yellow bandanna handkerchief. It was Aunt
Fanny, and in a voice that could be heard all over the banquet hall, she
shouted: "Good Lawd, honey, ef der ain't playin' 'Away Down South in
Dixie,' Hooray! Hooray!"
* * * * *
Hours later Beverly was running, confused and humbled, through the halls
to her room, when a swifter one than she came up and checked her flight.
"Beverly," cried an eager voice. She slackened her pace and glanced over
her shoulder. The smiling, triumphant face of Baldos met her gaze. The
upper hall was almost clear of people. She was strangely frightened,
distressingly diffident. Her door was not far away, and she would have
reached it in an instant later had he not laid a restraining, compelling
hand upon her arm. Then she turned to face him, her lips parted in
protest. "Don't look at me in that way," he cried imploringly. "Come,
dearest, come with me. We can be alone in the nook at the end of the
hall. Heavens, I am the happiest being in all the world. It has turned
out as I have prayed it should."
She allowed him to lead her to the darkened nook. In her soul she was
wondering why her tongue was so powerless. There were a hundred things
she wanted to say to him, but now that the moment had come she was
voiceless. She only could look helplessly at him. Joy seemed to be
paralyzed within her; it was as if she slept and could not be awakened.
As she sank upon the cushion he dropped to his knee before her, his hand
clasping hers with a fervor that thrilled her with life. As he spoke,
her pulses quickened and the blood began to race furiously.
"I have won your love, Beverly, by the fairest means. There has never
been an hour in which I have not been struggling for this glorious
end. You gave yourself to me when you knew I could be nothing more than
the humblest soldier. It was the sacrifice of love. You will forgive my
presumption--my very insolence, dear one, when I tell you that my soul
is the forfeit I pay. It is yours through all eternity. I love you. I
can give you the riches of the world as well as the wealth of the
heart. The vagabond dies; your poor humble follower gives way to the
supplicating prince. You would have lived in a cot as the guardsman's
wife; you will take the royal palace instead?"
Beverly was herself again. The spell was gone. Her eyes swam with
happiness and love; the suffering her pride had sustained was swept into
a heap labeled romance, and she was rejoicing.
"I hated you to-night, I thought," she cried, taking his face in her
hands. "It looked as though you had played a trick on me. It was mean,
dear. I couldn't help thinking that you had used me as a plaything and
it--it made me furious. But it is different now. I see, oh, so
plainly. And just as I had resigned myself to the thought of spending
the rest of my life in a cottage, away outside the pale of this glorious
life! Oh, it is like a fairy tale!"
"Ah, but it was not altogether a trick, dear one. There was no assurance
that I could regain the throne--not until the very last. Without it I
should have been the beggar instead of the prince. We would have lived
in a hovel, after all. Fortune was with me, I deceived you for months,
Beverly--my Beverly, but it was for the best. In defense of my honor and
dignity, however, I must tell you that the princess has known for many
days that I am Dantan. I told her the truth when Christobal came that
day with the news. It was all well enough for me to pass myself off as a
vagabond, but it would have been unpardonable to foist him upon her as
the prince."
"And she has known for a week?" cried Beverly in deep chagrin.
"And the whole court has known."
"I alone was blind?"
"As blind as the proverb. Thank God, I won your love as a vagabond. I
can treasure it as the richest of my princely possessions. You have not
said that you will go to my castle with me, dear."
She leaned forward unsteadily and he took her in his eager arms. Their
lips met and their eyes closed in the ecstasy of bliss. After a long
time she lifted her lids and her eyes of gray looked solemnly into his
dark ones.
"I have much to ask you about, many explanations to demand, sir," she
said threateningly.
"By the rose that shields my heart, you shall have the truth," he
laughed back at her. "I am still your servant. My enlistment is
endless. I shall always serve your highness."
"Your highness!" she murmured reflectively. Then a joyous smile of
realization broke over her face. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Do you think your brothers will let me come to Washington, now?" he
asked teasingly.
"It does seem different, doesn't it?" she murmured, with a strange
little smile, "You _will_ come for me?"
"To the ends of the earth, your highness."
End of Project Gutenberg's Beverly of Graustark, by George Barr McCutcheon