A MEETING OF THE CABINET
At this time, the principality of Graustark was in a most prosperous
condition. Its affairs were under the control of an able ministry,
headed by the venerable Count Halfont. The Duke of Perse, for years a
resident of St. Petersburg, and a financier of high standing, had
returned to Edelweiss soon after the distressing death of the late
Princess Yetive and her American husband, and to him was entrusted the
treasury portfolio. He at once proceeded to endear himself to the common
people by the advocacy of a lower rate of taxation; this meant the
reduction of the standing army. He secured new and advantageous treaties
with old and historic foes, putting Graustark's financial credit upon a
high footing in the European capitals. The people smugly regarded
themselves as safe in the hands of the miserly but honest old financier.
If he accomplished many things by way of office to enhance his own
particular fortune, no one looked askance, for he made no effort to
blind or deceive his people. Of his honesty there could be no question;
of his financial operations, it is enough to say that the people were
satisfied to have their affairs linked with his.
The financing of the great railroad project by which Edelweiss was to be
connected with the Siberian line in the north, fell to his lot at a time
when no one else could have saved the little government from heavy
losses or even bankruptcy. The new line traversed the country from
Serros, capital of Dawsbergen, through the mountains and canyons of
Graustark, across Axphain's broad steppes and lowlands, to a point at
which Russia stood ready to begin a connecting branch for junction with
her great line to the Pacific. All told, it was a stupendous undertaking
for a small government to finance; it is well known that Graustark owns
and controls her public utility institutions. The road, now about half
completed, was to be nearly two hundred miles in length, fully
two-thirds of which was on Graustark territory. The preponderance of
cost of construction fell upon that principality, Dawsbergen and Axphain
escaping with comparatively small obligations owing to the fact that
they had few mountains to contend with. As a matter of fact, the
Dawsbergen and Axphain ends of the railroad were now virtually built and
waiting for the completion of the extensive work in the Graustark
highlands.
The opening of this narrative finds the ministry preparing to float a
new five million gavvo issue of bonds for construction and equipment
purposes. Agents of the government were ready to depart for London and
Paris to take up the matter with the great banking houses. St.
Petersburg and Berlin were not to be given the opportunity to gobble up
these extremely fine securities. This seemingly extraordinary exclusion
of Russian and German bidders was the result of vigorous objections
raised by an utter outsider, the American, John Tullis, long time friend
and companion of Grenfall Lorry, consort to the late Princess.
Tullis was a strange man in many particulars. He was under forty years
of age, but even at that rather immature time of life he had come to be
recognised as a shrewd, successful financial power in his home city, New
York. At the very zenith of his power he suddenly and with Quixotic
disregard for consequences gave up his own business and came to
Graustark for residence, following a promise made to Grenfall Lorry
when the latter lay dying in a little inn near Brussels.
They had been lifelong friends. Tullis jestingly called himself the
little Prince's "morganatic godfather." For two years he had been a
constant resident of Graustark, living contentedly, even indolently, in
the picturesque old Castle, his rooms just across the corridor from
those occupied by the little Prince. To this small but important bit of
royalty he was "Uncle Jack"; in that capacity he was the most beloved
and at the same time the most abused gentleman in all Graustark. As many
as ten times a week he was signally banished from the domain by the
loving, headstrong little ruler, only to be recalled with grave dignity
and a few tears when he went so far as to talk of packing his "duds" in
obedience to the edict.
John Tullis, strong character though he was, found this lazy, _dolce far
niente_ life much to his liking. He was devoted to the boy; he was
interested in the life at this tiny court. The days of public and court
mourning for the lamented Princess and her husband wearing away after an
established period, he found himself eagerly delving into the gaieties
that followed. Life at the Castle and in the homes of the nobility
provided a new and sharp contrast to the busy, sordid existence he had
known at home. It was like a fine, wholesome, endless dream to him. He
drifted on the joyous, smiling tide of pleasure that swept Edelweiss
with its careless waves night and day. Clever, handsome, sincere in his
attitude of loyalty toward these people of the topmost east, he was not
long in becoming a popular idol.
His wide-awake, resourceful brain, attuned by nature to the difficulties
of administration, lent itself capably to the solving of many knotty
financial puzzles; the ministry was never loth to call on him for
advice and seldom disposed to disregard it. An outsider, he never
offered a suggestion or plan unasked; to this single qualification he
owed much of the popularity and esteem in which he was held by the
classes and the masses. Socially, he was a great favourite. He enjoyed
the freedom of the most exclusive homes in Edelweiss. He had enjoyed the
distinction of more than one informal visit to old Princess Volga of
Axphain, just across the border, to say nothing of shooting expeditions
with young Prince Dantan of Dawsbergen, whose American wife, formerly
Miss Calhoun of Washington, was a friend of long standing.
John Tullis was, beyond question, the most conspicuous and the most
admired man in Edelweiss in these serene days of mentorship to the
adored Prince Robin.
There was but one man connected with the government to whom his
popularity and his influence proved distasteful. That man was the Duke
of Perse. On more than one occasion the cabinet had chosen to be guided
by the sagacity of John Tullis in preference to following the lines laid
down by the astute minister of finance. The decision to offer the new
bond issue in London and Paris was due to the earnest, forceful argument
of John Tullis--outside the cabinet chamber, to be sure. This was but
one instance in which the plan of the treasurer was overridden. He
resented the plain though delicate influence of the former Wall Street
man. Tullis had made it plain to the ministry that Graustark could not
afford to place itself in debt to the Russians, into whose hands, sooner
or later, the destinies of the railroad might be expected to fall. The
wise men of Graustark saw his point without force of argument, and voted
down, in the parliament, the Duke's proposition to place the loan in St.
Petersburg and Berlin. For this particular act of trespass upon the
Duke's official preserves he won the hatred of the worthy treasurer and
his no inconsiderable following among the deputies.
But John Tullis was not in Edelweiss for the purpose of meddling with
state affairs. He was there because he elected to stand mentor to the
son of his life-long friend, even though that son was a prince of the
blood and controlled by the will of three regents chosen by his own
subjects. He was there to watch over the doughty little chap, who one
day would be ruler unrestrained, but who now was a boy to be loved and
coddled and reprimanded in the general process of man-making.
To say that the tiny Prince loved his big, adoring mentor would be
putting it too gently: he idolised him. Tullis was father, mother and
big brother to the little fellow in knickers.
The American was a big, broad shouldered man, reddish haired and ruddy
cheeked, with cool grey eyes; his sandy mustache was closely cropped and
turned up ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. Despite his
colouring, his face was somewhat sombre--even stern--when in repose. It
was his fine, enveloping smile that made friends for him wherever he
listed, with men and with women. More frequently than otherwise it made
more than friends of the latter.
One woman in Graustark was the source of never-ending and constantly
increasing interest to this stalwart companion to the Prince. That woman
was, alas! the wife of another man. Moreover, she was the daughter of
the Duke of Perse.
The young and witty Countess of Marlanx came often to Edelweiss. She was
a favourite at the Castle, notwithstanding the unhealthy record of her
ancient and discredited husband, the Iron Count. Tullis had not seen
the Count, but he had heard such tales of him that he could not but
pity this glorious young creature who called him husband. There is an
old saying about the kinship of pity. Not that John Tullis was actually
in love with the charming Countess. He was, to be perfectly candid, very
much interested in her and very much distressed by the fact that she was
bound to a venerable reprobate who dared not put his foot on Graustark
soil because once he had defiled it atrociously.
But of the Countess and her visits to Edelweiss, more anon--with the
indulgence of the reader.
At present we are permitted to attend a meeting of the cabinet, which
sits occasionally in solemn collectiveness just off the throne room
within the tapestried walls of a dark little antechamber, known to the
outside world as the "Room of Wrangles." It is ten o'clock of the
morning on which the Prince is to review the troops from the fortress.
The question under discussion relates to the loan of 5,000,000 gavvos,
before mentioned. At the head of the long table, perched upon an
augmentary pile of law books surmounted by a little red cushion, sits
the Prince, almost lost in the hugh old walnut chair of his forefathers.
Down the table sit the ten ministers of the departments of state, all of
them loving the handsome little fellow on the necessary pile of
statutes, but all of them more or less indifferent to his significant
yawns and perplexed frowns.
The Prince was a sturdy, curly-haired lad, with big brown eyes and a
lamentably noticeable scratch on his nose--acquired in less stately but
more profitable pursuits. (It seems that he had peeled his nose while
sliding to second base in a certain American game that he was teaching
the juvenile aristocracy how to play.) His wavy hair was brown and
rebellious. No end of royal nursing could keep it looking sleek and
proper. He had the merit of being a very bad little boy at times; that
is why he was loved by every one. Although it was considered next to
high treason to strike a prince of the royal blood, I could, if I had
the space, recount the details of numerous fisticuffs behind the state
stables in which, sad to relate, the Prince just as often as not came
off with a battered dignity and a chastened opinion of certain small fry
who could not have been more than dukes or barons at best. But he took
his defeats manfully: he did not whimper _lesé majesté_. John Tullis,
his "Uncle Jack," had proclaimed his scorn for a boy who could not "take
his medicine." And so Prince Robin took it gracefully because he was
prince.
To-day he was--for him--rather oppressively dignified and imperial. He
may have blinked his weary eyes a time or two, but in the main he was
very attentive, very circumspect and very much puzzled. Custom required
that the ruling prince or princess should preside over the meetings of
the cabinet. It is needless to observe that the present ruler's duty
ended when he repeated (after Count Halfont): "My lords, we are now in
session." The school-room, he confessed, was a "picnic" compared to the
"Room of Wrangles": a fellow got a recess once in a while there, but
here--well, the only recess he got was when he fell asleep. To-day he
was determined to maintain a very dignified mien. It appears that at the
last meeting he had created considerable havoc by upsetting the ink well
while trying to fill his fountain pen without an injector. Moreover,
nearly half a pint of the fluid had splashed upon the Duke of Perse's
trousers--and they were grey, at that. Whereupon the Duke announced in
open conclave that His Highness needed a rattling good spanking--a
remark which distinctly hurt the young ruler's pride and made him wish
that there had been enough ink to drown the Duke instead of merely
wetting him.
About the table sat the three regents and the other men high in the
administration of affairs, among them General Braze of the Army, Baron
Pultz of the Mines, Roslon of Agriculture. The Duke of Perse was
discussing the great loan question. The Prince was watching his gaunt,
saturnine face with more than usual interest.
"Of course, it is not too late to rescind the order promulgated at our
last sitting. There are five bankers in St. Petersburg who will finance
the loan without delay. We need not delay the interminable length of
time necessary to secure the attention and co-operation of bankers in
France and England. It is all nonsense to say that Russia has sinister
motives in the matter. It is a business proposition--not an affair of
state. We need the money before the winter opens. The railroad is now
within fifteen miles of Edelweiss. The bridges and tunnels are well
along toward completion. Our funds are diminishing, simply because we
have delayed so long in preparing for this loan. There has been too much
bickering and too much inane politics. I still maintain that we have
made a mistake in refusing to take up the matter with St. Petersburg or
Berlin. Why should we prefer England? Why France?"
For some unaccountable reason he struck the table violently with his
fist and directed his glare upon the astonished Prince. The explosive
demand caught the ruler by surprise. He gasped and his lips fell apart.
Then it must have occurred to him that the question could be answered by
no one save the person to whom it was so plainly addressed. He lifted
his chin and piped up shrilly, and with a fervour that startled even
the intense Perse:
"Because Uncle Jack said we should, that's why."
We have no record of what immediately followed this abrupt declaration;
there are some things that never leak out, no matter how prying the
chronicler may be. When one stops to consider that this was the first
time a question had been put directly to the Prince--and one that he
could understand, at that--we may be inclined to overlook his reply, but
we cannot answer for certain members of the cabinet. Unconsciously, the
boy in knickers had uttered a truth that no one else had dared to
voice. John Tullis _was_ the joint stepping-stone and stumbling-block in
the deliberations of the cabinet.
It goes without saying that the innocent rejoinder opened the way to an
acrid discussion of John Tullis. If that gentleman's ears burned in
response to the sarcastic comments of the Duke of Perse and Baron Pultz,
they probably tingled pleasantly as the result of the stout defence put
up by Halfont, Dangloss and others. Moreover, his most devoted friend,
the Prince, whose lips were sullenly closed after his unlucky maiden
effort, was finding it exceedingly difficult to hold his tongue and his
tears at the same time. The lad's lip trembled but his brown eyes
glowered; he sat abashed and heard the no uncertain arraignment of his
dearest friend, feeling all the while that the manly thing for him to do
would be to go over and kick the Duke of Perse, miserably conscious that
such an act was impossible. His little body trembled with childish rage;
he never took his gaze from the face of the gaunt traducer. How he hated
the Duke of Perse!
The Duke's impassioned plea was of no avail. His _confrères_ saw the
wisdom of keeping Russia's greedy hand out of the country's affairs--at
least for the present--and reiterated their decision to seek the loans
in England and France. The question, therefore, would not be taken to
Parliament for reconsideration. The Duke sat down, pale in defeat; his
heart was more bitter than ever against the shrewd American who had
induced all these men to see through his eyes.
"I suppose there is no use in kicking against the pricks," he said
sourly as he resumed his seat. "I shall send our representatives to
London and Paris next month. I trust, my lords, that we may have no
trouble in placing the loans there." There was a deep significance the
dry tone which he assumed.
"I do not apprehend trouble," said Count Halfont. "Our credit is still
good, your Grace. Russia is not the only country that is ready to trust
us for a few millions. Have no fear, your Grace."
"It is the delay that I am apprehensive of, your Excellency."
At this juncture the Prince, gathering from the manner of his ministers
that the question was settled to his liking, leaned forward and
announced to his uncle, the premier:
"I'm tired, Uncle Caspar. How much longer is it?"
Count Halfont coughed. "Ahem! Just a few minutes, your Highness. Pray be
patient--er--my little man."
Prince Bobby flushed. He always knew that he was being patronised when
any one addressed him as "my little man."
"I have an engagement," he said, with a stiffening of his back.
"Indeed?" said the Duke dryly.
"Yes, your Grace--a very important one. Of course, I'll stay if I have
to, but--what time is it, Uncle Caspar?"
"It is half past eleven, your Highness."
"Goodness, I had a date for eleven. I mean a engagement--an engagement."
He glanced helplessly, appealingly from Count Halfont to Baron Dangloss,
his known allies.
The Duke of Perse smiled grimly. In his most polite manner he arose to
address the now harassed Princeling, who shifted uneasily on the pile of
law books.
"May your most humble subject presume to inquire into the nature of your
Highness's engagement?"
"You may, your Grace," said the Prince.
The Duke waited. A smile crept into the eyes of the others. "Well, what
is the engagement?"
"I had a date to ride with Uncle Jack at eleven."
"And you imagine that 'Uncle Jack' will be annoyed if he is kept waiting
by such a trivial matter as a cabinet meeting, unfortunately prolonged?"
"I don't know just what that means," murmured the Prince. Then his face
brightened. "But I don't think he'll be sore after I tell him how busy
we've been."
The Duke put his hand over his mouth. "I don't think he'll mind half an
hour's wait, do you?"
"He likes me to be very prompt."
Count Halfont interposed, good-humouredly. "There is nothing more to
come before us to-day, your Grace, so I fancy we may as well close the
meeting. To my mind, it is rather a silly custom which compels us to
keep the Prince with us--er--after the opening of the session. Of
course, your Highness, we don't mean to say that you are not interested
in our grave deliberations."
Prince Bobby broke in eagerly: "Uncle Jack says I've just _got_ to be
interested in 'em, whether I want to or not. He says it's the only way
to catch onto things and become a regular prince. You see, Uncle Caspar,
I've got a lot to learn."
"Yes, your Highness, you have," solemnly admitted the premier. "But I am
sure you _will_ learn."
"Under such an able instructor as Uncle Jack you may soon know more than
the wisest man in the realm," added the Duke of Perse.
"Thank you, your Grace," said the Prince, so politely that the Duke was
confounded; "I know Uncle Jack will be glad to hear that. He's--he's
afraid people may think he's butting in too much."
"Butting in?" gasped the premier.
At this the Duke of Perse came to his feet again, an angry gleam in his
eyes. "My lords," he began hastily, "it must certainly have occurred to
you before this that our beloved Prince's English, which seems after all
to be his mother tongue, is not what it should be. Butting in! Yesterday
I overheard him advising your son, Pultz, to 'go chase' himself. And
when your boy tried to chase himself--'pon my word, he did--what did our
Prince say? What _did_ you say, Prince Robin?"
"I--I forget," stammered Prince Bobby.
"You said 'Mice!' Or was it--er--"
"No, your Grace. Rats. I remember. That's what I said. That's what all
of us boys used to say in Washington."
"God deliver us! Has it come to this, that a Prince of Graustark should
grow up with such language on his lips? I fancy, my lords, you will all
agree that something should be done about it. It is too serious a
matter. We are all more or less responsible to the people he is to
govern. We cannot, in justice to them, allow him to continue under
the--er--influences that now seem to surround him. He'll--he'll grow up
to be a barbarian. For Heaven's sake, my lords, let us consider the
Prince's future--let us deal promptly with the situation."
"What's he saying, Uncle Caspar?" whispered the Prince fiercely.
"Sh!" cautioned Count Halfont.
"I won't sh! I am the Prince. And I'll say 'chase yourself' whenever I
please. It's good English. I'll pronounce it for you in our own
language, so's you can see how it works that way. It goes like--"
"You need not illustrate, your Highness," the Premier hastened to say.
Turning to the Duke, he said coldly: "I acknowledge the wisdom in your
remarks, your Grace, but--you will pardon me, I am sure--would it not be
better to discuss the conditions privately among ourselves before taking
them up officially?"
"That confounded American has every one hypnotised," exploded the Duke.
"His influence over this boy is a menace to our country. He is making on
oaf of him--a slangy, impudent little--"
"Your Grace!" interrupted Baron Dangloss sharply.
"Uncle Jack's all right," declared the Prince, vaguely realising that a
defence should be forthcoming.
"He is, eh?" rasped the exasperated Duke, mopping his brow.
"He sure is," pronounced the Prince with a finality that left no room
for doubt. They say that fierce little Baron Dangloss, in striving to
suppress a guffaw, choked so impressively that there was a momentary
doubt as to his ever getting over it alive.
"He is a mountebank--a meddler, that's what he is. The sooner we come to
realise it, the better," exclaimed the over-heated Duke. "He has greater
influence over our beloved Prince than any one else in the royal
household. He has no business here--none whatsoever. His presence and
his meddling is an affront to the intelligence of--"
But the Prince had slid down from his pile of books and planted himself
beside him so suddenly that the bitter words died away on the old man's
lips. Robin's face was white with rage, his little fists were clenched
in desperate anger, his voice was half choked with the tears of
indignation.
"You awful old man!" he cried, trembling all over, his eyes blazing.
"Don't you say anything against Uncle Jack. I'll--I'll banish you--yes,
sir--banish you like my mother fired Count Marlanx out of the country. I
won't let you come back here ever--never. And before you go I'll have
Uncle Jack give you a good licking. Oh, he can do it all right. I--I
hate you!"
The Duke looked down in amazement into the flushed, writhing face of his
little master. For a moment he was stunned by the vigorous outburst.
Then the hard lines in his face relaxed and a softer expression came
into his eyes--there was something like pride in them, too. The Duke, be
it said, was an honest fighter and a loyal Graustarkian; he loved his
Prince and, therefore, he gloried in his courage. His own smile of
amusement, which broke in spite of his inordinate vanity, was the sign
that brought relief to the hearts of his scandalised _confrères_.
"Your Highness does well in defending a friend and counsellor," he said
gently. "I am sorry to have forgotten myself in your presence. It shall
not occur again. Pray forgive me."
Prince Bobby was still unappeased. "I _could_ have you beheaded," he
said stubbornly. "Couldn't I, Uncle Caspar?"
Count Halfont gravely informed him that it was not customary to behead
gentlemen except for the most heinous offences against the Crown.
The Duke of Perse suddenly bent forward and placed his bony hand upon
the unshrinking shoulder of the Prince, his eyes gleaming kindly, his
voice strangely free from its usual harshness. "You are a splendid
little man, Prince Robin," he said. "I glory in you. I shall not forget
the lesson in loyalty that you have taught me."
Bobby's eyes filled with tears. The genuine humility of the hard old man
touched his tempestuous little heart.
"It's--it's all right, Du--your Grace. I'm sorry I spoke that way, too."
Baron Dangloss twisted his imperial vigorously. "My lords, I suggest
that we adjourn. The Prince must have his ride and return in time for
the review at one o'clock."
As the Prince strode soberly from the Room of Wrangles, every eye was
upon his sturdy little back and there was a kindly light in each of
them, bar none. The Duke, following close behind with Halfont, said
quietly:
"I love him, Caspar. But I have no love for the man he loves so much
better than he loves any of us. Tullis is a meddler--but, for Heaven's
sake, my friend, don't let; Bobby know that I have repeated myself."
Later on, the Prince in his khaki riding suit loped gaily down the broad
mountain road toward Ganlook, beside the black mare which carried John
Tullis. Behind them rode three picked troopers from the House Guard. He
had told Tullis of his vainglorious defence in the antechamber.
"And I told him, Uncle Jack, that you could lick him. You can, can't
you?"
The American's face was clouded for a second; then, to please the boy, a
warm smile succeeded the frown.
"Why, Bobby, you dear little beggar, he could thresh me with one hand."
"What?" almost shrieked Prince Bobby, utterly dismayed.
"He's a better swordsman than I, don't you see. Gentlemen over here
fight with swords. I know nothing about duelling. He'd get at me in two
thrusts."
"I--I think you'd better take some lessons from Colonel Quinnox. It
won't do to be caught napping."
"I daresay you're right."
"Say, Uncle Jack, when are you going to take me to the witch's hovel?"
The new thought abruptly banished all else from his eager little brain.
"Some day, soon," said Tullis. "You see, I'm not sure that she's
receiving visitors these days. A witch is a very arbitrary person. Even
princes have to send up their cards."
"Let's telegraph her," in an inspired tone.
"I'll arrange to go up with you very soon, Bobby. It's a hard ride
through the pass and--and there may be a lot of goblins up there where
the old woman keeps herself."
The witch's hovel was in the mountain across the most rugged of the
canyons, and was to be reached only after the most hazardous of rides.
The old woman of the hills was an ancient character about whom clung a
thousand spookish traditions, but who, in the opinion of John Tuilis,
was nothing more than a wise fortune-teller and necromancer who knew
every trick in the trade of hoodwinking the superstitious. He had seen
her and he had been properly impressed. Somehow, he did not like the
thought of taking the Prince to the cabin among the mists and crags.
"They say she eats boys, now and then," he added, as if suddenly
remembering it.
"Gee! Do you suppose we could get there some day when she's eating one?"
As they rode back to the Castle after an hour, coming down through
Castle Avenue from the monastery road, they passed a tall, bronzed young
man whom Tullis at once knew to be an American. He was seated on a big
boulder at the roadside, enjoying the shade, and was evidently on his
way by foot to the Castle gates to watch the _beau monde_ assembling for
the review. At his side was the fussy, well-known figure of Cook's
interpreter, eagerly pointing out certain important personages to bun as
they passed. Of course, the approach of the Prince was the excuse for
considerable agitation and fervour on the part of the man from Cook's.
He mounted the boulder and took off his cap to wave it frantically.
"It's the Prince!" he called out to Truxton King. "Stand up! Hurray!
Long live the Prince!"
Tullis had already lifted his hand in salute to his countryman, and both
had smiled the free, easy smile of men who know each other by instinct.
The man from Cook's came to grief. He slipped from his perch on the rock
and came floundering to the ground below, considerably crushed in
dignity, but quite intact in other respects.
The spirited pony that the Prince was riding shied and reared in quick
affright. The boy dropped his crop and clung valiantly to the reins. A
guardsman was at the pony's head in an instant, and there was no
possible chance for disaster.
Truxton King unbent his long frame, picked up the riding crop with a
deliberateness that astonished the man from Cook's, strode out into the
roadway and handed it up to the boy in the saddle.
"Thank you," said Prince Bobby.
"Don't mention it," said Truxton King with his most engaging smile. "No
trouble at all."