THE BRIDAL OF OSCAROVITCH
The Special Service Squadron steamed out of Spithead as the clock of
Portsmouth Town Hall chimed twelve that night. Thirty-six hours later a
marriage ceremony took place in the chapel of the Castle of Oscarburg.
It was performed according to the rites of the Orthodox Church, and the
witnesses were Prince Zastrow and his medical attendant, Doctor Hugo.
The retainers of the Castle, headed by the major-domo and the
housekeeper, formed the congregation. Jenny was up in her mistress' room
packing as though for an immediate departure. She was very frightened at
the happenings of the past three or four days, but she contented herself
with the thought that her mistress was going to be a princess, and that,
therefore, her own lot in life would be brightened with reflected glory.
When the ceremony was over, the wedding feast was held in the great
dining-hall of the Castle after the ancient Finnish style. When the
loving-cup had been drunk, Nitocris took leave of her lord and went to
her room. The bridal chamber was blazing with light, and the great
silken-hung bed was a couch fit for a queen. She turned the draperies
down, laid herself dressed on the thick, downy bed, and then got up and
went back to her own.
"I shall sleep here to-night, Jenny, and I shall not undress. You
mustn't do, either. Lock the door, and put the sofa across it. You will
find that something is going to happen to-night. Is everything ready for
us to go away?"
"Yes, Your Highness," replied Jenny, wondering what was going to happen
next.
"You must not call me Highness, Jenny," said her mistress, with a laugh.
"I did not marry the Prince to-day. It was some one else he knew a long
time ago. I have put her to bed in that splendid bridal chamber of his.
She is waiting for him now."
"But I don't understand, Miss--I----"
"There is no need for you to understand, Jenny. Just be a good girl, and
do as you're told. When we get back to England I will explain matters as
far as I can."
Miss Jenny wisely decided to keep her thoughts to herself, and went on
with her packing. Nitocris changed her bridal dress for her yachting
costume, and lay down on the couch to await the progress of events.
Oscarovitch left the company in the dining-hall to their revel in about
an hour's time, and went up to his fate in the bridal chamber. He
knocked and opened the door softly: locked it, and went toward the bed.
He leaned over it for a moment, and then a hoarse shriek of mingled rage
and terror rang through the room. He flung the clothes off the bed.
Where was the lovely bride he had wedded only a few hours before? What
was this horrible thing lying where _she_ should have been? Not
Nitocris--and yet, it _was_ Nitocris. Like a flash of lightning rending
the darkness of the midnight heavens, the gap of oblivion between his
lives was rent, and the light flamed into his soul. Phadrig had lied to
him. The daughter of Rameses had not died that night in the banqueting
chamber of the Palace of Pepi. She had lived and reigned virgin queen of
the Sacred Land. Her body had been submitted to the hands of the
paraschites and buried in the City of the Dead over against Memphis, on
the eastward side of the river. And here was her mummy lying in his
bridal bed, mocking him with its hideous, stony rigidity.
For a few terrible moments he stood staring at it, his clenched fists
raised above his head. Then with another scream he cast himself upon it.
When they broke the door open, they found the man who in a few days
would have been Emperor of the Russias and the East lying across the bed
mowing and gibbering like a mad monkey, and scraping up handfuls of
brown dust from the stained sheets.
* * * * *
Twenty-four hours later the Admiral in command of the British Special
Squadron off Kronstadt saw the private signal flashed from the
north-east. He was a very angry Admiral, for he had lost a brand-new
cruiser and one of the smartest captains in the Service. But the signal
spelt "_Nitocris_. All well. Coming alongside."
"All well, and be damned to you, Captain Merrill!" muttered the Admiral
under his breath, when the signal was read to him. "This is a nice way
to begin a new command. I've half a mind to put him under arrest: but
he's a good man. I'd better hear what he has to say for himself first. I
wonder what the deuce he's been doing with that cruiser since he took
her away without leave? Well, here she is, I suppose."
But it was not H.M.S. _Nitocris_ that came out of the night glittering
with electric lights and flying through the water at a speed that the
fastest destroyer in the squadron could not have equalled. A whistle
tooted softly, a white shape swung up out of the darkness and slowed
down alongside the flagship. A boat dropped into the water, and three
minutes later Captain Mark Merrill ran up the gangway ladder, saluted
the quarter-deck, and handed his sword to the Admiral.
"I have done wrong, sir, but I hope that I have also, in another sense,
done right. I have brought both princes with me."
"Both princes--Good Lord, sir, what do you mean?"
"May I come below with you, sir, and explain? It has been rather
delicate work, but we've got it through all right, I think."
"Then keep your sword for the present, and come and tell me what you
have to say."
Captain Merrill followed the Admiral to his room, and told the story of
the taking of the Oscarburg--a very easy matter with a hundred
bluejackets at his back--the capture of Oscarovitch, who was now in a
straight waistcoat on board his own yacht, the rescue of Prince Zastrow
and Nitocris, and----
"The other Nitocris is following, sir," he concluded. "I thought I had
better take the yacht. She can make a good thirty-five knots, and that's
useful when you're in a hurry. And now, sir, I am at your disposal."
"Rubbish!" said the Admiral, holding out his hand. "Captain Merrill, I
don't quite know how you've done it, but you've saved Europe, and
perhaps the world, from war. If you hadn't brought those two princes of
yours to-night, we should have been fighting Germany for the possession
of Kronstadt before mid-day to-morrow. Those were the orders. Now, of
course, they can do nothing, as you have brought Prince Zastrow back
from the dead. He's their choice, and you had better get him and the
other away to London as soon as I have seen them, and you can take my
report with you on that thirty-five knotter after breakfast to-morrow
morning. Now, it's getting late. I'll say good-night."
EPILOGUE
The double wedding which took place at St George's, Hanover Square, the
following June was one of the most brilliant functions of the year.
Their Majesties of Russia and Great Britain graced the ceremony with
their presence, and, as a special act of grace to the man who, with
Franklin Marmion's help, had saved the world from what might have been
one of the bloodiest wars in history, H.M.S. _Nitocris_ was put into
commission for a cruise, the object of which was anything rather than
warlike. Two of the happiest couples on land or sea made the round of
the world in her. Before they returned Princess Hermia had taken the
last of Phadrig's drug and lain down to sleep never to wake again, and
in the fullness of her happiness Nitocris pardoned Oscar Oscarovitch,
and allowed him to die.
THE END
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PRINTED AT THE EDINBURGH PRESS, 9 AND 11 YOUNG STREET
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mummy and Miss Nitocris, by George Griffith