Harold MacGrath - The Princess Elopes
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Harold MacGrath >> The Princess Elopes
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"How much will this shoe cost me?" Max asked.
"Half a crown," said Bauer, with a sly glance at the girl to see how
she would accept so exorbitant a sum. The princess frowned. "But
sometimes," added Bauer hurriedly, "I do it for nothing."
"Bauer, your grandfather was a robber," the girl laughed. "Take heed
that you do not follow in his footsteps."
"I am a poor man, your--mm---Fraeulein," he stammered.
"Here's a crown," said Max, tossing a coin which was neatly caught by
the grimy hand of the smith.
"Are you very rich?" asked the girl curiously.
"Why?" counter-questioned Max.
"Oh, I am curious to know. Bauer will tell it to every one in
Barscheit that you overpay for things, and from now on you will have to
figure living on a basis of crowns."
It is worth any price to hear a pretty woman laugh. What a fine
beginning for a day!
"May misfortune be kind enough to bring you this way again, Herr!"
Bauer cried joyfully, not to say ambiguously.
"Listen to that!" laughed the girl, her eyes shining like the water in
the sun. "But he means only to thank your generosity. Now,"--with a
severe frown,--"how much do I owe you? Take care; I've only a few
pieces of silver in my purse."
"Why, Fraeulein, you owe me nothing; I am even in debt to you for this
very crown." Which proved that Bauer had had his lesson in
courtier-ship.
The assistant soon brought forth the girl's restive filly. Max sprang
to her aid. How light her foot was in his palm! (She could easily
have mounted alone, such was her skill; but there's the woman of it.)
"I am going toward the Pass," she said, reading the half-veiled appeal
in his blue eyes.
"Which way is that?" he asked, swinging into his own saddle.
"That way," nodding toward the south. After all, there could be no
harm; in two or three hours their paths would separate for ever.
"Why,"--delightedly,--"I am going that way myself."
Old Bauer watched them till they disappeared around a turn in the road.
He returned to his forge, shaking his head as if confronted by a
problem too abstruse even for his German mind.
"Well, he's an American, so I will not waste any pity on him. The pity
is that she must wed old Red-nose."
It would have been if she had!
So the Princess and Prince Charming rode into the country, and they
talked about a thousand and one things. Had she ever been to France?
Yes. To England? She had received part of her education there. Did
she know the Princess Hildegarde? Slightly. What was she like? She
was a madcap, irresponsible, but very much abused. Did she know Mr.
Warrington, the American consul? She had seen him on his morning
rides. Wasn't it a fine world? It was, indeed.
Once they stopped at a farm. The girl refused to dismount, bidding Max
go in and ask for a drink of milk. Max obeyed with alacrity, returning
with two foaming goblets of warm milk.
From time to time the princess stifled the "small voice." It was
wrong, and yet it wasn't. What worried her was the thought that Betty
might take it into her head to follow, and then everything would be
spoiled. Every now and then she turned her head and sighed
contentedly; the road to rearward was always clear.
"Follow me!" she cried suddenly, even daringly.
A stone wall, three feet high, ran along at their right. The
foreground was hard and firm. Pressing the reins on the filly's
withers, she made straight for the wall, cleared it, and drew up on the
other side. Now, Max hadn't the least idea that the horse under him
was a hunter, so I might very well say that he took his life in his
hands as he followed her. But Dandy knew his business. He took the
wall without effort. A warm glow went over Max when he found that he
hadn't broken his neck. Together they galloped down the field and came
back for the return jump. This, too, was made easily. Max's
admiration knew no bounds. It was a dangerous pastime in more ways
than one.
At eight o'clock they turned toward home, talking about another
thousand and one things.
"It has been a delightful ride," suggested Max, with an eye to the
future.
"I take this road nearly every morning," said she, looking out upon the
water, which was ruffling itself and quarreling along the sandy shores.
Max said nothing, but he at once made up his mind that he would take
the same road, provided he could in any reasonable manner get rid of me.
"Did you enjoy the ride?" asked the Honorable Betty, as her Highness
came in to breakfast. There were no formalities in the princess'
apartments.
"Beautifully!" Her Highness guiltily wondered if there was any logical
way to keep Betty in the house for the next few mornings. She sat down
and sipped her tea. "The duke talked to me last night. Steinbock
played double."
"What!"
"Yes. He sold us to the duke, who patiently waited for me to speak.
Betty, I am a fool. But I shall never marry Doppelkinn. That is
settled."
"I suppose he will be inviting me to return to England," said Betty
shrewdly.
"Not for the present."
"And I have just grown to love the place,"--pathetically. "Mr.
Warrington has asked me to ride with him afternoons. His ankle
prevents him from taking the long morning jaunts. If it will not
interfere with your plans, dear--"
"Accept, by all means," interrupted her Highness. "He is a capital
horseman." She smiled mysteriously. Happily her companion was
absorbed in thought and did not see this smile.
Max came in at quarter of ten, went to tub, and came down in time for
the eggs.
"Have a good ride?" I asked.
"Bully! Beautiful country!" He was enthusiastic.
"How these healthy animals eat!" I thought as I observed him
occasionally.
"Wish I could go with you," I said, but half-heartedly.
"I'll get the lay of the land quick enough," he replied.
The rascal! Not a word about the girl that morning, or the next, or
until Thursday morning. If only I had known! But Fate knows her
business better than I do, and she was handling the affair. But long
rides of a morning with a pretty girl are not safe for any bachelor.
Thursday morning he came in late. He dropped something on the table.
On inspection I found it to be a woman's handkerchief purse.
"Where the deuce did you get that?" I asked, mighty curious.
"By George! but I've been enjoying the most enchanting adventure; such
as you read out of a book. I'm inclined to believe that I shall enjoy
my studies in old Barscheit."
"But where did you get this?" If there was a girl around, I wanted to
know all about it.
"She dropped it."
"_She_ dropped it!" I repeated. "What she? Why, you old tow-head,
have you been flirting at this hour of the morning?"
"Handsome as a picture!"
"Ha! the ideal at last,"--ironically. "Blonde, of course."
"Dark as a Spaniard, and rides like Diana." His enthusiasm was not to
be lightly passed over.
"Never heard of Diana riding," said I; "always saw her pictured as
going afoot."
"Don't be an ass! You know very well what I mean."
"I've no argument to offer, nor any picture to prove my case. You've
had an adventure; give it up, every bit of it."
"One of the finest horsewomen I ever saw. Took a wall three feet high
the other morning, just to see if I dared follow. Lucky Dandy is a
hunter, or I'd have broken my neck."
"Very interesting." Then of a sudden a thought flashed through my head
and out again. "Anybody with her?"
"Only myself these three mornings."
"H'm! Did you get as far as names?"
"Yes; I told her mine. Who is Hildegarde von Heideloff?"
"Heideloff?" I was puzzled. My suspicions evaporated. "I can't say
that I know any one by that name. Sure it was Heideloff?"
"Do you mean to tell me," with blank astonishment, "that there is a
petticoat on horseback in this duchy that you do not know?"
"I don't know any woman by the name of Hildegarde von Heideloff; on my
word of honor, Max, I don't."
"Old Bauer, the blacksmith, knew her."
Bauer? All my suspicions returned. "Describe the girl to me."
"Handsome figure, masses of black hair, great black eyes that are full
of good fun, a delicate nose, and I might add, a very kissable mouth."
"What! have you kissed her?" I exclaimed.
"No, no! Only, I'd like to."
"H'm! You've made quite a study. She must be visiting some one
near-by. There is an old castle three miles west of the smithy. Did
she speak English?"
"Yes,"--excitedly.
"That accounts for it. An old English nobleman lives over there during
the summer months, and it is not improbable that she is one of his
guests." In my heart I knew that her Highness was up to some of her
tricks again, but there was no need of her shattering good old Max's
heart. Yet I felt bound to say: "Why not look into the purse? There
might be something there to prove her identity."
"Look into her purse?"--horrified. "You wouldn't have me peeping into
a woman's purse, would you? Suppose there should be a box of rouge?
Her cheeks were red."
"Quite likely."
"Or a powder-puff."
"Even more likely."
"Or--"
"Go on."
"Or a love letter."
"I have my doubts," said I.
"Well, if you do not know who she is, I'll find out,"--undismayed.
Doubtless he would; he was a persistent old beggar, was Max.
"Do not let it get serious, my boy," I warned. "You could not marry
any one in this country."
"Why not?"
"Have you been regularly baptized? Was your father? Was your
grandfather? Unless you can answer these simplest of questions and
prove them, you could not get a license; and no priest or preacher
would dare marry you without a license."
"Hang you, who's talking about getting married? All I want to know is,
who is Hildegarde von Heideloff, and how am I to return her purse? I
shall ask the blacksmith."
"Do so,"--taking up my egg-spoon.
Max slipped the purse into his breast-pocket and sat down.
VII
"The one fault I have to find with European life is the poor quality of
tobacco used."
It was eight o'clock, Thursday night, the night of the dinner at
Mueller's. I was dressing when Max entered, with a miserable cheroot
between his teeth.
"They say," he went on, "that in Russia they drink the finest tea in
the world, simply because it is brought overland and not by sea.
Unfortunately, tobacco--we Americans recognize no leaf as tobacco
unless it comes from Cuba--has to cross the sea, and is, in some
unaccountable manner, weakened in the transit. There are worse cigars
in Germany than in France, and I wouldn't have believed it possible, if
I had not gone to the trouble of proving it. Fine country! For a week
I've been trying to smoke the German quality of the weed, as a
preventive, but I see I must give it up on account of my throat. My
boy, I have news for you,"--tossing the cheroot into the grate.
"Fire away," said I, struggling with a collar.
"I have a box of Havanas over at the custom house that I forgot to bail
out."
"No!" said I joyfully. A Havana, and one of Scharfenstein's!
"I've an idea that they would go well with the dinner. So, if you
don't mind, I'll trot over and get 'em."
"Be sure and get around to Mueller, at half-past eight, then," said I.
"I'll be there." He knew where to find the place.
Mueller's Rathskeller was the rendezvous of students, officers and all
those persons of quality who liked music with their meat. The place
was low-ceilinged, but roomy, and the ventilation was excellent,
considering. The smoke never got so thick that one couldn't see the
way to the door when the students started in to "clean up the place,"
to use the happy idiom of mine own country. There were marble tables
and floors and arches and light, cane-bottomed chairs from Kohn's. It
was at once Bohemian and cosmopolitan, and, once inside, it was easy to
imagine oneself in Vienna. A Hungarian orchestra occupied an inclosed
platform, and every night the wail of the violin and the pom-pom of the
wool-tipped hammers on the Hungarian "piano" might be heard.
It was essentially a man's place of entertainment; few women ever had
the courage or the inclination to enter. In America it would have been
the fashion; but in the capital of Barscheit the women ate in the
restaurant above, which was attached to the hotel, and depended upon
the Volksgarten band for their evening's diversion.
You had to order your table hours ahead--that is, if you were a
civilian. If you were lucky enough to be an officer, you were
privileged to take any vacant chair you saw. But Heaven aid you if you
attempted to do this not being an officer! In Barscheit there were
also many unwritten laws, and you were obliged to observe these with
all the fidelity and attention that you gave to the enameled signs.
Only the military had the right to request the orchestra to repeat a
piece of music. Sometimes the lieutenants, seized with that gay humor
known only to cubs, would force the orchestra in Mueller's to play the
Hungarian war-song till the ears cried out in pain. This was always
the case when any Austrians happened to be present. But ordinarily the
crowds were good-natured, boisterous, but orderly.
It was here, then, that I had arranged to give my little dinner. The
orchestra had agreed--for a liberal tip--to play _The Star-Spangled
Banner_, and there was a case of Doppelkinn's sparkling Moselle. I may
as well state right here that we neither heard our national anthem nor
drank the vintage. You will soon learn why. I can laugh now, I can
treat the whole affair with becoming levity, but at the time I gained
several extra grey hairs.
If the princess hadn't turned around, and if Max hadn't wanted that box
of Havanas!
When I arrived at Mueller's I found my boys in a merry mood. They were
singing softly from _Robin Hood_ with fine college harmony, and as I
entered they swarmed about me like so many young dogs. Truth to tell,
none of them was under twenty, and two or three were older than myself.
But to them I represented official protection for whatever they might
do. I assumed all the dignity I dared. I had kept Scharfenstein's
name back as a surprise.
Ellis--for whom I had the passports--immediately struck me as being so
nearly like Max that they might easily have been brothers. Ellis was
slighter; that was all the difference. I gave him his papers and
examined his tickets. All was well; barring accidents, he would be in
Dresden the next day.
"You go through Doppelkinn, then?" said I.
"Yes. I have friends in Dresden whom I wish to see before going home."
"Well, good luck to you!"
Then I announced that Max Scharfenstein, an old college comrade, would
join us presently. This was greeted with hurrahs. At that time there
wasn't an American student who did not recollect Max's great run from
the ten-yard line. (But where the deuce _was_ Max?) I took a little
flag from my pocket and stuck it into the vase of poppies, and the boys
clapped their hands. You never realize how beautiful your flag is till
you see it in a foreign land. I apologized for Max's absence,
explaining the cause, and ordered dinner to be served. We hadn't much
time, as Ellis's train departed at ten. It was now a quarter to nine.
We had come to the relishes when a party of four officers took the
table nearest us. They hung up their sabers on the wall-pegs, and sat
down, ordering a bottle of light wine. Usually there were five chairs
to the table, but even if only two were being used no one had the right
to withdraw one of the vacant chairs without the most elaborate
apologies. This is the law of courtesy in Barscheit. In America it is
different; if you see anything you want, take it.
Presently one of the officers--I knew none of them save by sight--rose
and approached. He touched the flag insolently and inquired what right
it had in a public restaurant in Barscheit. Ordinarily his question
would not have been put without some justification. But he knew very
well who I was and what my rights were in this instance.
"Herr Lieutenant," said I coldly, though my cheeks were warm enough, "I
represent that flag in this country, and I am accredited with certain
privileges, as doubtless you are aware. You will do me the courtesy of
returning to your own table." I bowed.
He glared at me for a brief period, then turned on his heel. This was
the first act in the play. At the fellow's table sat Lieutenant von
Stoerer, Doppelkinn's nephew and heir-presumptive. He was, to speak
plainly, a rake, a spendthrift and wholly untrustworthy. He was not
ill-looking, however.
My spirits floated between anger and the fear that the officers might
ruin the dinner--which they eventually did.
Things went on smoothly for a time. The orchestra was pom-pomming the
popular airs from _Faust_. (Where the deuce was that tow-headed
Dutchman?) Laughter rose and fell; the clinkle of glass was heard;
voices called. And then Max came in, looking as cool as you please,
though I could read by his heaving chest that he had been sprinting up
back streets. The boys crowded around him, and there was much ado over
the laggard.
Unfortunately the waiter had forgotten to bring a chair for his plate.
With a genial smile on his face, Max innocently stepped over to the
officers' table and plucked forth the vacant chair. For a wonder the
officers appeared to give this action no heed, and I was secretly
gratified. It was something to be a consul, after all. But I counted
my chickens too early.
"Where are the cigars?" I asked as Max sat down complacently.
"Cigars?"--blankly. "Hang me, I've clean forgotten them!" And then,
oblivious of the probable storm that was at that moment gathering for a
downpour over his luckless head, he told us the reason of his delay.
"There was a crowd around the palace," he began. "It seems that the
Princess Hildegarde has run away, and they believe that she has ridden
toward the Pass in a closed carriage. The police are at this very
moment scouring the country in that direction. She has eloped."
"Eloped?" we all cried, being more or less familiar with the state of
affairs at the palace.
"Good-by to Doppelkinn's _Frau_!"
"Good girl!"
"She has been missing since seven o'clock, when she drove away on the
pretense of visiting her father's old steward, who is ill," went on
Max, feeling the importance of his news. "They traced her there. From
the steward's the carriage was driven south, and that's the last seen
of her. There won't be any wedding at the cathedral next
Tuesday,"--laughing.
Queries and answers were going crisscross over the table, when I
observed with dread that Lieutenant von Stoerer had risen and was coming
our way. He stopped at Max's side. Max looked up to receive Von
Stoerer's glove full on the cheek. It was no gentle stroke. Von Stoerer
at once returned to his table and sat down.
For a moment we were all absolutely without power of motion or of
speech, Max's face grew as white as the table-cloth, and the print of
the glove glowed red against the white. I was horrified, for I knew
his tremendous strength. If he showed fight, Von Stoerer would calmly
saber him. It was the custom. But Max surprised me. He was the
coolest among us, but of that quality of coolness which did not
reassure me. He took up his story where he had left off and finished
it. For his remarkable control I could have taken him in my arms and
hugged him.
The officers scowled, while Von Stoerer bit his mustache nervously. The
American had ignored his insult. Presently he rose again and
approached. He thrust a card under Max's nose.
"Can you understand that?" he asked contemptuously.
Max took the card, ripped it into quarters and dropped these to the
floor. Then, to my terror and the terror of those with me, he
tranquilly pulled out a murderous-looking Colt and laid it beside his
plate. He went on talking, but none of us heard a word he said. We
were fearfully waiting to see him kill some one or be killed.
No one was killed. The officers hurriedly took down their sabers and
made a bee-line for the door of which I have spoken.
Max returned the revolver to his hip-pocket and gave vent to an Homeric
laugh.
"You tow-headed Dutchman!" I cried, when I found voice for my words,
"what have you done?"
"Done? Why, it looks as if we had all the downs this half," he replied
smartly. "Oh, the gun isn't loaded,"--confidentially.
Ellis fumbled in his pockets and produced his passports and tickets.
These he shoved over to Max.
"What's this for?" Max asked curiously.
"Ellis," said I, "it is very good of you. Max, take those. Mr. Ellis
wishes to save your hide. Take them and get to the station as quickly
as you can. And for the love of mercy, do not turn around till you're
over in Doppelkinn's vineyards."
"Well, I'm hanged if I understand!" he cried. "I'm a peaceful man. A
beggar walks up to me and slaps me in the face for nothing at all, and
now I must hike, eh? What the devil have I done now?"
Then, as briefly as I could, I explained the enormity of his offenses.
To take a chair from a table, as he had done, was a gross insult; to
receive a slap in the face and not to resent it, was another insult; to
tear up an opponent's visiting-card, still another; to take out a
revolver in Barscheit, unless you were an officer or had a permit, was
worse than an insult; it was a crime, punishable by long imprisonment.
They could accuse him of being either an anarchist or a socialist-red,
coming to Barscheit with the intent to kill the grand duke. The fact
that he was ignorant of the laws, or that he, was an alien, would remit
not one particle of his punishment and fine; and weeks would pass ere
the matter could be arranged between the United States and Barscheit.
"Good Lord!" he gasped; "why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me that you carried a cannon in your pocket? Take
Ellis' papers, otherwise you stand pat for a heap of trouble, and I
can't help you. Go straight to Dresden, telegraph me, and I'll forward
your luggage."
"But I came here to study!" Max argued.
"It will be geology in the form of prison walls," said Ellis quietly.
"Don't be foolish, Mr. Scharfenstein; it is not a matter of a man's
courage, but of his common sense. Take the tickets and light out. I
have lived here for three years, and have seen men killed outright for
less than you have done."
"But you don't expect me to leave this place without punching that
beggar's head?"--indignantly. "What do you think I'm made of?"
"You'll never get the chance to punch his head," said I. "We are
wasting valuable time. Those officers have gone for the police. You
have about twenty minutes to make the train. Come, for heaven's sake,
come!"
He finally got it into his head that we knew what we were talking
about. How we got him to the station I do not remember, but somehow we
got him there. He sputtered and fumed and swore, as all brave men will
who feel that they are running away in a cowardly fashion. He wasn't
convinced, but he thanked Ellis for his kindness and hoped that he
wouldn't get into trouble on his (Max's) account.
"Go straight to Dresden; say you've been studying medicine in Barscheit
for three years; refer to me by telegraph if there is any question as
to your new identity," said I. "You're the only man in the world, Max,
that I'd lie for."
He stumbled through the gates, and we saw him open the door of a
carriage just as the train began to pull out. A guard tried to stop
him, but he was not quite quick enough. We watched the train till it
melted away into the blackness beyond the terminus covering; then we, I
and my fellow diners, went soberly into the street. Here was a
howdy-do! Suddenly Ellis let out a sounding laugh, and, scarcely
knowing why, we joined him. It was funny, very funny, for every one
but poor old Max! The American spirit is based on the sense of humor,
and even in tragic moments is irrepressible.
We did not return to Mueller's; each of us stole quietly home to await
the advent of the police, for they would rout out every American in
town in their search for the man with the gun. They would first visit
the consulate and ascertain what I knew of the affair; when they got
through with the rest of the boys Max would be in Doppelkinn. The
police were going to be very busy that night: a princess on one hand
and an anarchist on the other.
There were terrible times, too, in the palace. Long before we watched
Max's train and the vanishing green and red lights at the end of it the
grand duke was having troubles of his own. He was pacing wildly up and
down in his dressing-room. Clutched in his fist was a crumpled sheet
of paper. From time to time he smoothed it out and re-read the
contents. Each time he swore like the celebrated man in Flanders.
_You forced me and I warned you that I would do something desperate.
Do not send for me, for you will never find me till you come to your
senses. I have eloped._
_Hildegarde._
VIII
Shortly before six o'clock--dinner in the palace was rarely served
until half-after eight--the Honorable Betty sat down to her
writing-desk in her boudoir, which opened directly into that belonging
to the princess, to write a few letters home. A dinner was to be given
to the state officials that night, and she knew from experience that
after that solemn event was concluded it would be too late for the
departing mails. She seemed to have no difficulty in composing her
thoughts and transferring them to paper. There were times when she
would lean back, nibble the end of her pen and smile in a dreamy,
retrospective fashion. No doubt her thoughts were pleasant and
agreeable.
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