When Miss Vance came into the corridor after she had reported this
interview to Lucy, Jean swept her into her room and dragged the whole
story from her. In fact the poor anxious lady was glad to submit it to
the girl's shrewd hard sense.
"You told him that she was the uncontrolled mistress of her money!"
"It is the truth. I had to tell him the truth, my dear."
"Yes, I suppose so, for he would have found it out anyhow."
"I do feel," panted Clara, "as if I had put a dove into the claws of a
vulture."
"Not at all," said Jean promptly. "The little man has a heart, but an
empty pocket. Was Lucy interested most in his love or his bargaining?"
"In neither, I think. She just went on painting, and said nothing."
"Oh, she will decide the matter in time! She will bring her little
intellect to bear on it as if it were a picnic for her Sunday-school
class!" Jean stood silent a while. "Miss Vance," she said suddenly,
"let me engineer this affair for a few days. I can help you."
"What do you propose to do, Jean?"
"To leave Bozen to-morrow. For Munich."
"But the Wolfburghs have a palace or--something in Munich. Is it quite
delicate for us----"
"It is quite rational. Let us see what the something is. So far in
our dealings with principalities and powers, we have had a stout little
man--with no background." The prince was startled when he was told of
this sudden journey, but declared that he would follow them to-morrow.
Lucy, as usual, asked no questions, but calmly packed her satchel.
As the little train, the next day, lumbered through the valley of the
Eisach, she sat in her corner, reading a newspaper. Miss Vance dozed,
or woke with a start to lecture on points of historic interest.
"Why don't you look, Lucy? That monastery was a Roman fortress in the
third century. And you are missing the color effects of the vineyards."
"I can look now. I have finished my paper." Lucy folded it neatly and
replaced it in her bag. "I have read the Delaware State Sun," she said
triumphantly, "regularly, every week since we left home. When I go
back I shall be only seven days behind with the Wilmington news."
Jean glanced at her contemptuously. "Look at that great castle on
yonder mountain," she said. "You could lodge a village inside of the
ramparts. Do you think Wolfburgh Schloss is like that? The prince
told us last night," turning to Miss Vance, "the old legends about his
castle. The first Wolfburgh was a Titan about the time of Noah, and
married a human wife, and with his hands tore open the mountain for
rocks to lay the foundation of his house. According to his story there
were no end of giants and trolls and kings concerned in the building of
it," she went on, furtively watching the deepening pink in Lucy's
cheek. "The Wolfburgh of Charlemagne's day was besieged by him, and
another entertained St. Louis and all his crusaders within the walls."
Jean's voice rose shrilly and her eyes glowed. She leaned forward,
looking eagerly across the fields. "The prince told us that the
Schloss of his race had for centuries been one of the great fortresses
of Christendom. And here it is! Now we shall see--we shall see!"
The car stopped. The guard opened the door and Miss Vance and Lucy
suddenly found themselves swept by Jean on to the platform, while the
little train rumbled on down the valley. Miss Vance cried out in
dismay.
"Never mind. There will be another train in a half hour," said Jean.
"Here is the Schloss," pointing to a pepper-box tower neatly
whitewashed, which rose out of a huge mass of broken stone. "And here,
I suppose, is the capital of the kingdom over which the Wolfburghs now
reign feudal lords?"
Clara found herself against her will looking curiously at the forge,
the dirty shop, the tiny bier-halle, and a half a dozen huts, out of
which swarmed a few old women and children.
"Where are the men of this village?" Jean demanded of the station
master, a stout old man with a pipe in his mouth.
"Gone to America, for the most part," he said, with a shrug.
Lucy came up hastily, an angry glitter in her soft eyes. "You have no
right to make me play the spy in this way!" she said haughtily, and
going into the little station sat down with her back to the door.
"You? It is I--I----" muttered Jean breathlessly. "And who lives in
the tower, my good man? It is not big enough for a dozen hens." She
slipped a florin into his hand.
"Four of the noble ladies live there. The princesses. The gracious
sisters of Furst Hugo. There come two of them now."
A couple of lean, wrinkled women dressed in soiled merino gowns and
huge black aprons, their hair bristling in curl papers, crossed the
road, peering curiously at the strangers.
"They came to look at you, Fraulein," said the man, chuckling.
"Strangers do not stop at Wolfburgh twice in the year."
"And what do the noble ladies do all the year?"
"Jean, Jean!" remonstrated Clara.
"Oh, Miss Vance! This is life and death to some of us! What do they
do?"
"Do?" said the man, staring. "What shall any gracious lady do? They
cook and brew, and crochet lace and----"
"Are there any more princesses--sisters of Furst Hugo?"
"Two more. They live in Munich. No, none of them are married.
Because," he added zealously, "there are no men as high-born as our
gracious ladies, so they cannot marry."
"No doubt that accounts for it," said Jean. "Six. These are 'the
channels into which the income will flow,' hey?" She gave him more
money, and marching into the station caught Lucy by the shoulder,
shaking her passionately. "Do you think any American girl could stand
that? How would YOU like to be caged up in that ridiculous tower to
cook and crochet and brew beer and watch the train go by for
recreation? The year round--the year round?"
Lucy rose quietly. "The train is coming now," she said. "Calm
yourself, Jean. YOU will not have to live in the tower."
Jean laughed. When they were seated in the car again, she looked
wistfully out at the heaps of ruins.
"It must have been a mighty fortress once," she said. "Those stones
were hewed before Charlemagne's time. And a great castle could easily
be built with them now," she added thoughtfully.