Harold MacGrath - The Princess Elopes
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Harold MacGrath >> The Princess Elopes
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"Don't go; in mercy's name, don't go, Gretchen! You may be killed!"
English! I had actually heard a voice speak my native tongue.
"Nonsense, Betty! I am not afraid of any ghost that ever walked, rode
or floated."
"Ghost? It may be a burglar!"
"Or Steinbock! We shall find nothing."
Indeed!
"Nothing but a rat, bungling about in the armor." The laughter came
again. "You are not _afraid_, Betty?"
"Only cautious. But how can you laugh? A rat?" cried a voice rather
anxiously. "Why, they are as big as dogs!"
"But arrant cowards."
So! one of these voices spoke English as its birthright; the other
spoke with an accent, that is to say, by adoption. Into what had I
fallen? Whither had my hunger brought me? I was soon to learn.
There came a faint thread of light on one side of the hall, such as may
be likened to that which filters under a door-sill. Presently this was
followed by the sound of jangling brass rings. A heavy velvet
portiere--which I, being in darkness, had not discovered--slipped back.
My glance, rather blinded, was first directed toward the flame of the
candle. Then I lowered it--and surrendered for ever and for ever!
I beheld two faces in profile, as it were, one side in darkness, the
other tinted and glowing like ancient ivory. I honestly confess to you
that in all my wanderings--and they have been frequent and many--I
never saw such an enchanting picture or two more exquisite faces. One
peered forth with hesitant bravery; the other--she who held the
candle--with cold, tranquil inquiry.
All my fears, such as they were, left me instantly. Besides, I was not
without a certain amount of gallantry and humor. I stepped squarely
into the light and bowed.
"Ladies, I am indeed not a ghost, but I promise you that I shall be if
I am not offered something to eat at once!"
Tableau!
"What are you doing here?" asked she with the candle, her midnight eyes
drawing down her brows into a frown of displeasure.
I bowed. "To begin with, I find a gate unlocked, and being curious, I
open it; then I find a door unlatched, and I enter. Under these
unusual circumstances I am forced to ask the same question of you: what
are you doing here in this ruined castle? If it isn't ruined, it is
deserted, which amounts to the same thing." This _was_ impertinent,
especially on the part of a self-invited guest.
"That is my affair, sir. I have a right here, now and at all times."
Her voice was cold and authoritative. "There is an inn six miles
farther down the road; this is a private residence. Certainly you can
not remain here over night."
"Six miles?" I echoed dismally. "Madam, if I have seemed impertinent,
pardon me. I have been in the saddle six hours. I have ridden nearly
thirty miles since noon. I am dead with fatigue. At least give me
time to rest a bit before taking up the way again, I admit that the
manner of my entrance was informal; but how was I to know? There was
not even a knocker on the door by which to make known my presence to
you." The truth is, I did not want to go at once. No one likes to
stumble into an adventure--enchanting as this promised to be--and
immediately pop out of it. An idea came to me, serviceable rather than
brilliant. "I am an American. My German is poor. I speak no French.
I have lost my way, it would seem; I am hungry and tired. To ride six
miles farther now is a physical impossibility; and I am very fond of my
horse."
"He says he is hungry, Gretchen," said the English girl, dropping
easily into the French language as a vehicle of speech. (I was a
wretch, I know, but I simply could not help telling that lie; I didn't
want to go; and they _might_ be conspirators.) "Besides," went on the
girl, "he looks like a gentleman."
"We can not always tell a gentleman in the candle-light," replied
Gretchen, eying me critically and shrewdly and suspiciously.
As for me, I gazed from one to the ether, inquiringly, after the manner
of one who hears a tongue not understandable.
"He's rather nice," was the English girl's comment; "and his eyes
strike me as being too steady to be dishonest."
I had the decency to burn in the ears. I had taken the step, so now I
could not draw back. I sincerely hoped that they would not exchange
any embarrassing confidences. When alone women converse upon many
peculiar topics; and conversing in a tongue which they supposed to be
unknown to me, these two were virtually alone.
"But, my dear child," the other returned argumentatively, "we can not
offer hospitality to a strange man this night of all nights. Think of
what is to be accomplished."
(So something was to be accomplished? I was right, then, in deceiving
them. To accomplish something on a night like this, far from
habitation, had all the air of a conspiracy.)
"Feed him and his horse, and I'll undertake to get rid of him before
that detestable Steinbock comes. Besides, he might prove a valuable
witness in drawing up the papers."
(Papers?)
"I never thought of that. It will not do to trust Steinbock wholly."
Gretchen turned her searching eyes once more upon me. I confess that I
had some difficulty in steadying my own. There are some persons to
whom one can not lie successfully; one of them stood before me. But I
rather fancy I passed through the ordeal with at least half a victory.
"Will you go your way after an hour's rest?" she asked, speaking in the
familiar tongue.
"I promise." It was easy to make this promise. I wasn't a diplomat
for nothing. I knew how to hang on, to dodge under, to go about.
"Follow me," Gretchen commanded briefly.
(Who was she? What was going on?)
We passed through the gloomy salon. A damp, musty odor struck my sense
of smell. I was positive that the castle was uninhabited, save for
this night. Three candles burned on the mantel, giving to the gloom a
mysterious, palpitating effect. The room beyond was the dining-room,
richly paneled in wine-colored mahogany. This was better; it was
cheerful. A log crackled in the fireplace. There were plenty of
candles. There was a piano, too. This belonged to the castle; a heavy
tarpaulin covering lay heaped at one side. There was a mahogany
sideboard that would have sent a collector of antiques into raptures,
and a table upon which lay the remains of a fine supper. My mouth
watered. I counted over the good things: roast pheasant, pink ham, a
sea-food salad, asparagus, white bread and unsalted butter, an
alcohol-burner over which hung a tea-pot, and besides all this there
was a pint of La Rose which was but half-emptied. Have you ever been
in the saddle half a day? If you have, you will readily appreciate the
appetite that was warring with my curiosity.
"Eat," bade she who was called Gretchen, shortly.
"And my horse?"
"Where is it?"
"Tied to a tree by the gate."
She struck a Chinese gong. From the kitchen appeared an elderly
servitor who looked to me more fitted to handle a saber than a
carving-knife; at least, the scar on his cheek impressed me with this
idea. (I found out later that he was an old soldier, who lived alone
in the castle as caretaker.)
"Take this gentleman's horse to the stables and feed him," said
Gretchen. "You will find the animal by the gate."
With a questioning glance at me the old fellow bowed and made off.
I sat down, and the two women brought the various plates and placed
them within reach. Their beautiful hands flashed before my eyes and
now and then a sleeve brushed my shoulder.
"Thank you," I murmured. "I will eat first, and then make my
apologies."
This remark caught the fancy of Gretchen. She laughed. It was the
same laughter I had heard while standing in the great hall.
"Will you drink tea, or would you prefer to finish this Bordeaux?" she
asked pleasantly.
"The wine, if you please; otherwise the effect of the meal and the long
hours in the wind will produce sleepiness. And it would be frightfully
discourteous on my part to fall asleep in my chair. I am very hard to
awake."
The English girl poured out the wine and passed the goblet to me. I
touched my lips to the glass, and bent my head politely. Then I
resolutely proceeded to attack the pheasant and ham. I must prove to
these women that at least I was honest in regard to my hunger. I
succeeded in causing a formidable portion of the food to disappear.
And then I noticed that neither of the young women seated herself while
I ate. I understood. There was no hostility in this action; nothing
but formality. They declined to sit in the presence of an unwelcome
stranger, thus denying his equality from a social point of view. I
readily accepted this decision on their part. They didn't know who I
was. They stood together by the fireplace and carried on a
conversation in low tones.
How shall I describe them? The elder of the two, the one who seemed to
possess all the authority, could not have been more than twenty. Her
figure was rather matured, yet it was delicate. Her hair was tawny,
her skin olive in shade and richly tinted at the cheek-bones. Her
eyes, half framed by thick, black-arching brows, reminded me of
woodland pools in the dusk of evening,--depths unknown, cool,
refreshing in repose. The chin was resolute, the mouth was large but
shapely and brilliant, the nose possessed the delicate nostrils
characteristic of all sensitive beings--that is to say, thoroughbreds;
altogether a confusing, bewildering beauty. At one moment I believed
her to be Latin, at the next I was positive that she was Teutonic. I
could not discover a single weak point, unless impulsiveness shall be
called weakness; this sign of impulsiveness was visible in the lips.
The other--well, I couldn't help it. It was _Kismet_, fate, the turn
in the road, what you will. I fell heels over head in love with her at
once. She was charming, exquisite, one of those delicate creatures who
always appear in enchantments; a Bouguereau child grown into womanhood,
made to fit the protecting frame of a man's arms. Love steals into the
heart when we least expect him; and before we are aware, the sly little
god has unpacked his trunk and taken possession!
Eyes she had as blue as the Aegean Sea on windy days, blue as the
cloud-winnowed sky of a winter's twilight, blue as sapphires--Irish
eyes! Her hair was as dark and silken as a plume from the wings of
night. (Did I not say that I had some poetry in my system?) The shape
of her mouth--Never mind; I can recall only the mad desire to kiss it.
A graceful figure, a proud head, a slender hand, a foot so small that I
wondered if it really poised, balanced or supported her young body.
Tender she must be, and loving, enclitical rather than erect like her
authoritative companion. She was adorable.
All this inventory of feminine charms was taken by furtive glances,
sometimes caught--or were they taking an inventory of myself?
Presently my appetite became singularly submissive. Hunger often is
satisfied by the feeding of the eyes. I dropped my napkin on the table
and pushed back my chair. My hostesses ceased conversing.
"Ladies," said I courteously, "I offer you my sincere apologies for
this innocent intrusion." I looked at my watch. "I believe that you
gave me an hour's respite. So, then, I have thirty minutes to my
account."
The women gazed at each other. One laughed, and the other smiled; it
was the English girl who laughed this time. I liked the sound of it
better than any I had yet heard.
(Pardon another parenthesis. I hope you haven't begun to think that
_I_ am the hero of this comedy. Let it be furthest from your thoughts.
I am only a passive bystander.)
"I sincerely trust that your hunger is appeased," said the one who had
smiled.
"It is, thank you." I absently fumbled in my coat pockets, then
guiltily dropped my hands. What a terrible thing habit is!
"You may smoke," said the Bouguereau child who was grown into
womanhood. Wasn't that fine of her? And wasn't it rather observant,
too? I learned later that she had a brother who was fond of tobacco.
To her eyes my movement was a familiar one.
"With your kind permission," said I gratefully. I hadn't had a smoke
in four hours.
I owned a single good cigar, the last of my importation. I lighted it
and blew forth a snowy billow of heavenly aroma. I know something
about human nature, even the feminine side of it. A presentable young
man with a roll of aromatic tobacco seldom falls to win the confidence
of those about him. With that cloud of smoke the raw edge of formality
smoothed down.
"Had you any particular destination?" asked Gretchen.
"None at all. The road took my fancy, and I simply followed it."
"Ah! that is one of the pleasures of riding--to go wherever the
inclination bids. I ride."
We were getting on famously.
"Do you take long journeys?" I inquired.
"Often. It is the most exhilarating of sports," said the Enchantment.
"The scenery changes; there are so many things that charm and engage
your interest: the mountains, the waterways, the old ruins. Have you
ever whistled to the horses afield and watched them come galloping down
to the wall? It is fine. In England--" But her mouth closed
suddenly. She was talking to a stranger.
I love enthusiasm in a woman. It colors her cheeks and makes her eyes
sparkle, I grew a bit bolder.
"I heard a wonderful voice as I approached the castle," said I.
Gretchen shrugged.
"I haven't heard its equal outside Berlin or Paris," I went on.
"Paris?" said Gretchen, laying a neat little trap for me into which my
conceit was soon to tumble me. "Paris is a marvelous city."
"There is no city to equal it. Inasmuch as we three shall never meet
again, will you not do me the honor to repeat that jewel song from
_Faust_?" My audacity did not impress her in the least.
"You can scarcely expect me to give a supper to a stranger and then
sing for him, besides," said Gretchen, a chill again stealing into her
tones. "These Americans!" she observed to her companion in French.
I laid aside my cigar, approached the piano, and sat down. I struck a
few chords and found the instrument to be in remarkably good order. I
played a Chopin _Polonaise_, I tinkled Grieg's _Papillon_, then I
ceased.
"That is to pay for my supper," I explained.
Next I played _Le Courier_, and when I had finished that I turned
again, rising.
"That is to pay for my horse's supper," I said.
Gretchen's good humor returned.
"Whoever you are, sir," her tone no longer repellent, "you are amusing.
Pray, tell us whom we have the honor to entertain?"
"I haven't the vaguest idea who my hostess is,"--evasively.
"It is quite out of the question. You are the intruder."
"Call me Mr. Intruder, then," said I.
It was, you will agree, a novel adventure. I was beginning to enjoy it
hugely.
"Who do you suppose this fellow is?" Gretchen asked.
"He says he is an American, and I believe he is. What Americans are in
Barscheit?"
"I know of none at all. What shall we do to get rid of him?"
All this was carried on with unstudied rudeness. They were women of
high and noble quality; and as I was an interloper, I could take no
exception to a conversation in a language I had stated I did not
understand. If they were rude, I had acted in a manner unbecoming a
gentleman. Still, I was somewhat on the defensive. I took out my
watch. My hour was up.
"I regret that I must be off," I said ruefully. "It is much pleasanter
here than on the road."
"I can not ask you to remain here. You will find the inn a very
comfortable place for the night," was Gretchen's suggestion.
"Before I go, may I ask in what manner I might serve as a witness?"
Ere the words had fully crossed my lips I recognized that my smartness
had caused me to commit an unpardonable blunder for a man who wished to
show up well in an adventure of this sort. (But fate had a hand in it,
as presently you shall see.)
Gretchen laughed, but the sound was harsh and metallic. She turned to
her companion, who was staring at me with startled eyes.
"What did I tell you? You can not tell a gentleman in the
candle-light." To me she said:
"I thought as much. You have heard _Faust_ in Paris, but you know
nothing of the French language. You claimed to be a gentleman, yet you
have permitted us to converse in French."
"Was it polite of you to use it?" I asked. "All this," with a wave of
the hand, "appears mysterious. This is not a residence one would
expect to find inhabited--and by two charming women!" I bowed. "Your
presence here is even less satisfactorily explained than mine. If I
denied the knowledge of French it was because I wasn't sure of my
surroundings. It was done in self-defense rather than in the desire to
play a trick. And in this language you speak of witnesses, of papers,
of the coming of a man you do not trust. It looks very much like a
conspiracy." I gathered up my gloves and riding-crop. I believed that
I had extricated myself rather well.
"This is my castle," said Gretchen, gently shaking off the warning hand
of her companion. "If I desire to occupy it for a night, who shall
gainsay me? If I leave the latches down, that is due to the fact that
I have no one to fear. Now, sir, you have eaten the bread of my table,
and I demand to know who you are. If you do not tell me at once, I
shall be forced to confine you here till I am ready to leave."
"Confine me!"--nonplussed. This was more than I had reckoned on.
"Yes." She reached out to strike the gong. (I can not be blamed for
surrendering so tamely. I didn't know that the old servitor was the
only man around.)
"I am the American consul at Barscheit."
The two women drew together instinctively, as if one desired to protect
the other from some unknown calamity. What the deuce was it all about?
All at once Gretchen thrust aside her friend and approached. The table
was between us, and she rested her hands upon it. Our glances met and
clashed.
"Did the duke send you here?" she demanded repellently.
"The duke?" I was getting deeper than ever. "The duke?"
"Yes. I am the Princess Hildegarde."
III
The Princess Hildegarde of Barscheit! My gloves and riding-crop
slipped from my nerveless fingers to the floor. A numbing, wilting
sensation wrinkled my spine. The Princess Hildegarde of Barscheit!
She stood opposite me, the woman--ought I not to say girl?--for whom I
had been seeking, after a fashion, all these months! The beautiful
madcap who took the duchy by the ears, every now and then, and tweaked
them! The princess herself, here in this lonely old castle into which
I had so carelessly stumbled! Romance, enchantment! Oddly enough, the
picture of her riding a bicycle flashed through my brain, and this was
followed by another, equally engaging, of the hussar who rode
cross-country, to the horror of the conservative element at court.
"The Princess Hildegarde!" I murmured stupidly.
"Yes. I have asked you a question, sir. Or shall I put the question
in French?"--ironically. "Was it the duke who sent you here?"
There was a look in her superb eyes which told me that it would have
been to her infinite pleasure to run a sword through my black and
villainous heart. Presently I recovered. With forced calm I stooped
and collected my gloves and crop.
"Your Highness, what the deuce has the duke to do with my affairs, or I
with his? As an American, you would scarcely expect me to meddle with
your private affairs. You are the last person in the world I thought
to meet this night. I represent the United States in this country, and
though I am inordinately young, I have acquired the habit of attending
to my own affairs."
From the angry face in front of me I turned to the dismayed face
beyond. There must have been a question in my glance. The young woman
drew herself up proudly.
"I am the Honorable Betty Moore."
(The princess' schoolmate in England!)
Her Highness stood biting the knuckle of a forefinger, undecided as to
what path of action to enter, to reach a satisfactory end. My very
rudeness convinced her more than anything else that I spoke the truth.
"How, then, did you select this particular road?"--still entertaining
some doubt.
"It is a highway, free to all. But I have already explained that," I
answered quietly. I moved deliberately toward the door, but with a
cat-like movement she sprang in front of me. "Well, your Highness?"
"Wait!" she commanded, extending an authoritative arm (lovely too!).
"Since you are here, and since you know who I am, you must remain."
"Must?" I repeated, taken aback.
"Must! My presence here ought not to be known to any one. When you
witness that which shall take place here to-night, you will
understand." Her tone lost its evenness; it trembled and became a bit
wild.
"In what manner may I be of service to your Highness?" I asked
pleasantly, laying aside my gloves and crop again. "I can easily give
you my word of honor as a gentleman not to report your presence here;
but if I am forced to remain, I certainly demand--"
"Desire," she corrected, the old fire in her eyes.
"Thank you. I desire, then, to know the full reason; for I can not be
a party to anything which may reflect upon the consulate. For myself,
I do not care." What hare-brained escapade was now in the air?
The princess walked over to the mantel and rested her arms upon it,
staring wide-eyed into the fire. Several minutes passed. I waited
patiently; but, to tell the truth, I was on fire with curiosity. At
length my patience was rewarded.
"You have heard that I am to marry the Prince of Doppelkinn?" she began.
I nodded.
"Doubtless you have also heard of my determination not to marry him?"
she went on.
Again I nodded.
"Well, I am not going to marry him."
I was seized with the desire to laugh, but dared not. What had all
this to do with my detention in the castle?
"Betty," said the princess, turning imploringly to her companion (what
a change!), "_you_ tell him."
"I?" The Honorable Betty drew back.
(Had they kidnapped old Doppelkinn? I wondered.)
"I can not tell him," cried her Highness miserably, "I simply can not.
You must do it, Betty. It is now absolutely necessary that he should
know everything; it is absolutely vital that he be present. Perhaps
Heaven has sent him. Do you understand? Now, tell him!"
And, wonders to behold! she who but a few minutes gone had been a
princess in everything, cold, seeing, tranquil, she fled from the room.
(Decidedly this was growing interesting. What had they done?) Thus,
the Honorable Betty Moore and his Excellency, the American consul at
Barscheit, were left staring into each other's eyes fully a minute.
"You will, of course, pledge me your word of honor?" She who had
recently been timid now became cool and even-pulsed.
"If in pledging it I am asked to do nothing to discredit my office. I
am not an independent individual,"--smiling to put her more at ease.
(I haven't the least doubt that I would have committed any sort of
folly had she required it of me.)
"You have my word, sir, that you will be asked to do nothing
dishonorable. On the other hand, you will confer a great favor upon
her Highness, who is in deep trouble and is seeking a way to escape it."
"Command me," said I promptly.
"Her Highness is being forced into marriage with a man who is old
enough to be her grandfather. She holds him in horror, and will go to
any length to make this marriage an impossibility. For my part, I have
tried to convince her of the futility of resisting her royal uncle's
will." (Sensible little Britisher!) "What she is about to do will be
known only to four persons, one of whom is a downright rascal."
"A rascal?" slipped my lips, half-unconsciously. "I trust that I
haven't given you that impression," I added eagerly. (A rascal? The
plot was thickening to formidable opaqueness.)
"No, no!" she cried hastily, with a flash of summer on her lips. (What
is more charming than an English woman with a clear sense of the
humorous?) "You haven't given me that impression at all."
"Thank you." My vanity expanded under the genial warmth of this
knowledge. It was quite possible that she looked upon me favorably.
"To proceed. There is to be a kind of mock marriage here to-night, and
you are to witness it." She watched me sharply.
I frowned.
"Patience! Not literally a mock marriage, but the filling out of a
bogus certificate."
"I do not understand at all."
"You have heard of Hermann Steinbock, a cashiered officer?"
"Yes. I understand that he is the rascal to whom you refer."
"Well, this certificate is to be filled out completely. To outwit the
duke, her Highness commits--"
"A forgery."
"It is a terrible thing to do, but she has gone too far to withdraw
now. She is to become the wife of Hermann Steinbock. She wishes to
show the certificate to the duke."
"But the banns have not been made public."
"That does not matter."
"But why detain me?" I was growing restless. It was all folly, and no
good would come of it.
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