John Reed Scott - The Colonel of the Red Huzzars

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THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS

by

JOHN REED SCOTT

With Illustrations by Clarence F. Underwood

[Frontispiece: "You are a soldier--an American officer?"
she said, suddenly.]

Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers, New York
Copyright 1905 by John Reed Scott
Copyright 1906 by J. B. Lippincott Co.
Published June, 1906

TO MY WIFE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. A PICTURE AND A WAGER
II. CONCERNING ANCESTORS
III. IN DORNLITZ AGAIN
IV. THE SALUTE OF A COUSIN
V. THE SALUTE OR A FRIEND
VI. THE SIXTH DANCE
VII. AN EARLY MORNING RIDE
VIII. THE LAWS OF THE DALBERGS
IX. THE DECISION
X. THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS
XI. THE FATALITY OF MOONLIGHT
XII. LEARNING MY TRADE
XIII. IN THE ROYAL BOX
XIV. THE WOMAN IN BLACK
XV. HER WORD AND HER CERTIFICATE
XVI. THE PRINCESS ROYAL SITS AS JUDGE
XVII. PITCH AND TOSS
XVIII. ANOTHER ACT IN THE PLAY
XIX. MY COUSIN, THE DUKE
XX. A TRICK OF FENCE
XXI. THE BAL MASQUE
XXII. BLACK KNAVE AND WHITE
XXIII. AT THE INN OF THE TWISTED PINES
XXIV. THE END OF THE PLAY

ILLUSTRATIONS

"You are a soldier--an American officer?" she said,
suddenly. . . . . . _Frontispiece_

Then, as he unbent, his eyes rested on me for the first time.

Our swords fell to talking in the garden of the masked ball.

THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS

I

A PICTURE AND A WAGER

It was raining heavily and I fastened my overcoat to the neck as I came
down the steps of the Government Building. Pushing through the crowds
and clanging electric cars, at the Smithfield Street corner, I turned
toward Penn Avenue and the Club, whose home is in a big, old-fashioned,
grey-stone building--sole remnant of aristocracy in that section where,
once, naught else had been.

For three years I had been the engineer officer in charge of the
Pittsburgh Harbor, and "the navigable rivers thereunto belonging"--as
my friend, the District Judge, across the hall, would say--and my
relief was due next week. Nor was I sorry. I was tired of dams and
bridges and jobs, of levels and blue prints and mathematics. I wanted
my sword and pistols--a horse between my legs--the smell of gunpowder
in the air. I craved action--something more stirring than dirty banks
and filthy water and coal-barges bound for Southern markets.

Five years ago my detail would have been the envy of half the Corps.
But times were changed. The Spanish War had done more than give straps
to a lot of civilians with pulls; it had eradicated the dry-rot from
the Army. The officer with the soft berth was no longer deemed lucky;
promotion passed him by and seized upon his fellow in the field. I had
missed the war in China and the fighting in the Philippines and, as a
consequence, had seen juniors lifted over me. Yet, possibly, I had
small cause to grumble; for my own gold leaves had dropped upon me in
Cuba, to the disadvantage of many who were my elders, and, doubtless,
my betters as well. I had applied for active service, but evidently it
had not met with approval, for my original orders to report to the
Chief of Engineers were still unchanged.

The half dozen "regulars," lounging on the big leather chairs before
the fireplace in the Club reception-room, waiting for the dinner hour,
gave me the usual familiar yet half indifferent greeting, as I took my
place among them and lit a cigar.

"Mighty sorry we're to lose you, Major," said Marmont. "Dinner won't
seem quite right with your chair vacant."

"I'll come back occasionally to fill it," I answered. "Meanwhile there
are cards awaiting all of you at the Metropolitan or the Army and Navy."

"Then you don't look for an early assignment to the White Elephant
across the Pacific?" inquired Courtney.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Hastings, "did you apply for the Philippines?"

"What ails them?" I asked.

"Everything--particularly Chaffee's notion that white uniforms don't
suit the climate?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Is that a criticism of your superior officer?" Marmont demanded.

"That is never done in the Army," I answered.

"Which being the case let us take a drink," said Westlake, and led the
way to the cafe.

"Looks rather squally in Europe," Courtney observed, as the dice were
deciding the privilege of signing the check.

"It will blow over, I fancy," I answered.

"Have you seen the afternoon papers?"

"No."

"Then you don't know the Titian Ambassador has been recalled."

"Indeed! Well, I still doubt if it means fight."

Courtney stroked his grey imperial. "Getting rather near one, don't
you think?" he said.

"No closer than France and Turkey were only a short while ago," I
answered. "Moreover, in this case, the Powers would have a word to
say."

"Yes, they are rather ready to speak out on such occasions; but, unless
I'm much mistaken, if the Titians and the Valerians get their armies
moving it will take more than talk from the Powers to stop them."

"And it's all over a woman," I observed carelessly.

Courtney gave me a sharp glance. "I thought that was rather a secret,"
he replied.

I laughed. "It's one, at least, that the newspapers have not
discovered--yet. But, where did you get it?"

"From a friend; same as yourself," he said, with the suggestion of a
smile.

"My dear fellow," I said. "I know more about the Kingdom of Valeria
than--well, than your friend and all his assistants of the State
Department."

"I don't recall mentioning the State Department," Courtney replied.

"You didn't. I was honoring your friend by rating him among the
diplomats."

He ignored my thrust. "Ever been to Valeria?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Recently?"

"About six years ago."

"Is that the last time?"

"What are you driving at?" I asked.

He answered with another question: "Seen the last number of the London
Illustrated News?"

"No," I answered.

He struck the bell. "Bring me the London News," he said to the boy.
Opening it at the frontispiece he pushed it across to me.

"Has she changed much since you saw her?" he asked, and smiled.

It was a woman's face that looked at me from the page; and, though it
was six years since I had seen it last, I recognized it instantly.
There was, however, a certain coldness in the eyes and a firm set of
the lip and jaw that were new to me. But, as I looked, they seemed to
soften, and I could have sworn that for an instant the Princess Dehra
of Valeria smiled at me most sweetly--even as once she herself had done.

"You seem uncommonly well pleased with the lady," Courtney observed.

I handed back the News.

"You have not answered my question," he insisted.

"Look here, Courtney," I said, "it seems to me you are infernally
inquisitive to-night."

"Maybe I am--only, I wanted to know something," and he laughed softly.

"Well?"

"I think I know it now," he said.

"Do you?" I retorted.

"Want to make a bet?" he asked.

"I never bet on a certainty," said I.

Courtney laughed. "Neither do I, so here's the wager:--a dinner for
twenty that you and I are in Valeria thirty days from to-night and have
dined with the King and danced with the Princess."

"Done!" said I.

"All I stipulate is that you do nothing to avoid King Frederick's
invitation."

"And the Princess?" I asked.

"I'm counting on her to win me the bet," he laughed.

I picked up the picture and studied it again. The longer I looked the
more willing I was to give Courtney a chance to eat my dinner.

"If the opportunity comes I'll dance with her," I said.

"Of course you will--but will you stop there, I wonder?"

I tapped my grey-besprinkled hair.

"They are no protection," he said. "I don't trust even my own to keep
me steady against a handsome woman."

"They are playing us false even now," said I. "I'm not going to
Valeria to decide a dinner bet."

"You're not. You're going as the representative of our Army to observe
the Valerian-Titian War."

"You're as good as a gypsy or a medium. When do I start?"

"Don't be rude, my dear chap, and forget that, under the wager, I'm to
be in the King's invitation--also the dance. We sail one week from
to-day."

"A bit late to secure accommodations, isn't it?"

"They are booked--on the Wilhelm der Grosse."

"You are playing a long shot--several long shots," I
laughed:--"War--Washington--me."

"Wrong," said Courtney. "I'm playing only War. I have the Secretary
and the Princess has you."

"You have the Secretary!"

"Days ago."

"The Devil!" I exclaimed, lifting my glass abstractedly.

"The Princess! you mean," said Courtney quickly, lifting his own and
clicking mine.

I looked at the picture again--and again it seemed to smile at me.

"The Princess!" I echoed; and we drank the toast. "We're a pair of old
fools," said I, when the glasses were emptied.

Courtney picked up the News and held the picture before me.

"Say that to her," he challenged.

"I can't be rude to her very face," I answered lamely.

Just then one of the "buttons" handed me a telegram. I tore open the
yellow envelope and read the sheet, still damp from the copy-press. It
ran:--

"Titia declares war. Detail as attache open. If desired report at
headquarters immediately. Hennecker relieves you in morning. Answer."

"(signed) HENDERSON, A. A. G."

I tossed it over to Courtney. "You're that much nearer the dinner," I
said.

"And the Princess also," he added.

"Then you're actually going?" I asked.

"My dear Major, did you ever doubt it?"

"Your vagaries are past doubting," I answered.

"And yours?"

"I am going under orders of the War Department."

"Of course," he answered, "of course. And, that being so, you won't
mind my confessing that I'm going largely on account of--a woman."

"I won't mind anything that gives me your companionship."

"So, it's settled," he said. "Let us have some dinner, and then cut in
for a farewell turn in the game of hearts upstairs."

"It will be another sort of game over the water," I observed.

"Yes--with a different sort of hearts," he said thoughtfully.

"Is it possible, Courtney, you are growing sentimental?" I demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders. "There's no fool like an old fool, you
know," he answered.

"Unless it be one that is just old enough to be neither old nor young,"
said I.

Then we went in to dinner.

Courtney is a good fellow; one of the best friends a man can have; well
born, rich, with powerful political connections in both Parties, and
having no profession nor necessary occupation to tie him down. His
tastes ran to diplomacy, and Secretaries of State--knowing this fact,
and being further advised of it at various times by certain prominent
Senators--had given him numerous secret missions to both Europe and
South America. Legations had been offered to him but these he had
always declined; for, as he told me, he preferred the quiet,
independent work, that carried no responsible social duties with it.

It happened that General Russell, our representative at the Court of
Valeria, was home on vacation. Naturally, he would now return in all
haste. Here, I imagined, was an explanation of my sudden orders. He
was an intimate of our family; had known me since childhood, and,
doubtless, had asked for my detail to his household, and also for
Courtney's. And Courtney, naturally, having been early consulted in
the matter, knew all the facts and so was able to bluff at me with
them. It would be just as well to call him.

"Is General Russell crossing with us?" I asked carelessly.

Courtney shook his head. "He is not going back to Valeria."

"Oh!" said I, realizing suddenly my mistake, "I didn't appreciate I was
dining with an Ambassador."

"It's not yet announced. However, I'm glad it does not change me," he
laughed.

"I can tell that better after we reach Valeria--and you have danced
with the Princess."

He sipped his coffee meditatively. "Yes, there may be changes in
Valeria in us both," he said presently.

"Don't do the heavy reproof if I chance to forget the difference in our
rank," I answered. "But you must manage one turn for me with Her Royal
Highness, if you're to eat my dinner, you know."

"How many times have you been to Valeria?" he asked suddenly.

"Some half dozen," I replied, surprised.

"Ever been in the private apartments of the Palace of Dornlitz?"

"No--I think not."

"I mean, particularly, the corridor where hang the portraits of the
Kings?"

"I don't recall them."

He laughed shortly. "Believe me, you would recall them well," he said.

"What the devil are you driving at?" I asked.

"I'll show you the night you dance with the Princess."

"A poor army officer doesn't usually have such honors."

"No--not if he be only a poor army officer. But, if he chance to
be----"

"Well," I said, "be what?"

"I'll tell you in the picture gallery," he answered.

And not another word would he say in the matter.

II

CONCERNING ANCESTORS

However, I did not need to wait so long for my answer. I knew it quite
as well as Courtney--maybe a trifle better. Nevertheless, it is a bit
jolting to realize, suddenly, that some one has been prying into your
family history.

On the west wall of the Corridor of Kings, in the Palace of Dornlitz,
hung the full-length portrait of Henry, third of the name and tenth of
the Line. A hundred and more years had passed since he went to his
uncertain reward; and now, in me, his great-great-grandson, were his
face and figure come back to earth.

I had said, truly enough, that I had never been in the Gallery of
Kings. But it was not necessary for me to go there to learn of this
resemblance to my famous ancestor. For, handed down from eldest son to
eldest son, since the first Dalberg came to American shores, and, so,
in my possession now, was an ivory miniature of the very portrait which
Courtney had in mind.

And the way of it, and how I chanced to be of the blood royal of
Valeria, was thus:

Henry the Third--he of the portrait--had two sons, Frederick and Hugo,
and one daughter, Adela. Frederick, the elder son, in due time came to
the throne and, dying, passed the title to his only child, Henry; who,
in turn, was succeeded by his only child, Frederick, the present
monarch.

Adela, the daughter, married Casimir, King of Titia,--and of her
descendants more anon.

Hugo, the younger son, was born some ten years after his brother,--to
be accurate, in 1756,--and after the old King had laid aside his sword
and retired into the quiet of his later years. With an honestly
inherited love of fighting, and the inborn hostility to England that,
even then, had existed in the Valerians for a hundred years, Hugo
watched with quickening interest the struggle between the North
American Colonies and Great Britain which began in 1775. When the
Marquis de Lafayette threw in his fortunes with the Americans, Hugo had
begged permission to follow the same course. This the old King had
sternly refused; pointing out its impropriety from both a political and
a family aspect.

But Hugo was far from satisfied, and his desire to have a chance at
England waxing in proportion as the Colonies' fortunes waned, he at
last determined to brave his fierce old father and join the struggling
American army whether his sire willed it or no. His mind once formed,
he would have been no true son of Henry had he hesitated.

The King heard him quietly to the end,--too quietly, indeed, to presage
well for Hugo. Then he answered:

"I take it sir, your decision is made beyond words of mine to change.
Of course, I could clap you into prison and cool your hot blood with
scant diet and chill stones, but, such would be scarce fitting for a
Dalberg. Neither is it fitting that a Prince of Valeria should fight
against a country with which I am at peace. Therefore, the day you
leave for America will see your name stricken from the rolls of our
House, your title revoked, and your return here prohibited by royal
decree. Do I make myself understood?"

So far as I have been able to learn, no one ever accused my
great-grandfather of an inability to understand plain speech, and old
Henry's was not obscure. Indeed, Hugo remembered it so well that he
made it a sort of preface in the Journal which he began some months
thereafter, and kept most carefully to the very last day of his life.
The Journal says he made no answer to his father save a low bow.

Two days later, as plain Hugo Dalberg, he departed for America. For
some time he was a volunteer Aide to General Washington. Later,
Congress commissioned him colonel of a regiment of horse; and, as such,
he served to the close of the war. When the Continental Army was
disbanded, he purchased a place upon the eastern shore of Maryland;
and, marrying into one of the aristocratic families of the
neighborhood, settled down to the life of a simple country gentleman.

He never went back to the land of his birth, nor, indeed, even to
Europe. And this, though, one day, there came to his mansion on the
Chesapeake the Valerian Minister to America and, with many bows and
genuflections, presented a letter from his brother Frederick,
announcing the death of their royal father and his own accession, and
offering to restore to Hugo his rank and estates if he would return to
court.

And this letter, like his sword, his Order of the Cincinnati, his
commissions and the miniature, has been the heritage of the eldest son.
In his soldier days his nearest comrade had been Armand, Marquis de la
Rouerie, and for him his first-born was christened; and hence my own
queer name--for an American: Armand Dalberg.

There was one of the traditions of our House that had been scrupulously
honored: there was always a Dalberg on the rolls of the Army; though
not always was it the head of the family, as in my case. For the rest,
we buried our royal descent. And though it was, naturally, well known
to my great-grandsire's friends and neighbors, yet, in the succeeding
generations, it has been forgotten and never had I heard it referred to
by a stranger.

Therefore, I was surprised and a trifle annoyed at Courtney's
discovery. Of course, it was possible that he had been attracted only
by my physical resemblance to the Third Henry and was not aware of the
relationship; but this was absurdly unlikely, Courtney was not one to
stop at half a truth and Dalberg was no common name. Doubtless the
picture had first put him on the track and after that the rest was
easy. What he did not know, however, but had been manoeuvring to
discover, was how far I was known at the Court of Valeria. Well, he
was welcome to what he had got.

Now, as a matter of fact, it was quite likely that the Dalbergs of
Dornlitz had totally forgotten the Dalbergs of America. Since
Frederick's minister had rumbled away from that mansion on the
Chesapeake, a century and more ago, there had been no word passed
between us. Why should there be? We had been disinherited and
banished. They had had their offer of reinstatement courteously
refused. We were quits.

I think I was the first of the family to set foot within Valeria since
Hugo left it. Ten years ago, during a summer's idling in Europe, I had
been seized with the desire to see the land of my people. It was a
breaking of our most solemn canon, yet I broke it none the less. Nor
was that the only time. However, I had the grace,--and, possibly, the
precaution,--to change my name on such occasions. In the Kingdom of
Valeria I was that well-known American, Mr. John Smith.

I did the ordinary tourist; visited the places of interest, and put up
at the regular hotels. Occasionally, I was stared at rather
impertinently by some officer of the Guards and I knew he had noted my
resemblance to the national hero. I never made any effort to be
presented to His Majesty nor to establish my relationship. I should
have been much annoyed had anything led to it being discovered.

Once, in the park of the palace, I had passed the King walking with a
single aide-de-camp, and his surprise was such he clean forgot to
return my salute; and a glance back showed him at a stand and gazing
after me. I knew he was thinking of the portrait in the Corridor of
Kings. That was the last time I had seen my royal cousin.

The next day, while riding along a secluded bridle path some miles from
Dornlitz, I came upon a woman leading a badly-limping horse. She was
alone,--no groom in sight,--and drawing rein I dismounted and asked if
I could be of service. Then I saw her face, and stepped back in
surprise. Her pictures were too plentiful in the capital for me to
make mistake. It was the Princess Dehra.

I bowed low. "Your Royal Highness's pardon," I said. "I did not mean
to presume."

She measured me in a glance. "Indeed, you are most opportune," she
said, with a frank smile. "I have lost the groom,--his horse was too
slow,--and I've been punished by Lotta picking a stone I cannot remove."

CONCERNING ANCESTORS 25

"By your leave," I said, and lifted the mare's hoof. Pressing back the
frog I drew out the lump of sharp gravel.

"It looks so easy," she said.

"It was paining her exceedingly, but she is all right now."

"Then I may mount?"

I bowed.

"Without hurting Lotta?" she asked.

I turned the mare about and dropped my hand into position. For a
moment she hesitated. Then there was the swish of a riding skirt, the
glint of a patent-leather boot, an arched foot in my palm, and without
an ounce of lift from me she was in the saddle.

I stepped back and raised my hat.

She gathered the reins slowly; then bent and patted the mare's neck.

I made no move.

"I am waiting," she said presently, with a quick glance my way.

"I do not see the groom," said I, looking back along the road.

She gave a little laugh. "You won't," she said. "He thinks I went
another way."

"Then Your Highness means----"

"You do not look so stupid," she remarked.

"Sometimes men's looks are deceiving."

"Then, sir, Her Highness means she is waiting for you to mount," she
said, very graciously.

"As her groom?" I asked.

"As anything you choose, so long as you ride beside me to the hill
above the Park."

I took saddle at the vault and we trotted away.

"Why did you make me ask for your attendance?" she demanded.

"Because I dared not offer it."

"Another deception in your looks," she replied.

I laughed. She had evened up.

"You are a soldier--an American officer?" she said suddenly.

"Your Highness has guessed most shrewdly," I answered, in surprise.

"Are you staying at the Embassy?" she asked.

"No," said I. "I am not on the staff. I am only a bird of passage."

"Do you know General Russell?"

"My father knew him, I believe," I answered, evasively, and turned the
talk into less personal matters.

When we reached the hill I drew rein. Down in the valley lay the
Summer Palace and the gates of the Park were but a few hundred yards
below us. I dismounted to say good-bye.

"I am very grateful for your courtesy," she said.

"It is for the stranger to be grateful for your trust," I answered.

She smiled,--that smile was getting into my poor brain--"A woman
usually knows a gentleman," she said.

I bowed.

"And under certain circumstances she likes to know his name," she added.

For a moment I was undecided. Should I tell her and claim my
cousinship? I was sorely tempted. Then I saw what a mistake it would
be,--she would not believe it,--and answered:

"John Smith, Your Royal Highness, and your most obedient servant."

She must have noticed my hesitation, for she studied my face an
instant, then said, with a pause between each word and a peculiar
stress on the name:

"General--Smith?"

"Simple Captain," I answered. "We do not climb so rapidly in our Army."

Just then, from the barracks three miles away, came the boom of the
evening gun.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I am late. I must hasten. Good-bye, _mon
Capitaine_; you have been very kind."

She drew off her gauntlet and extended her hand. I bent and
kissed,--possibly too lingeringly,--the little fingers.

"Farewell, Princess," I said. And then, half under my breath, I added:
"Till we meet again."

She heard, and again that smile. "'_Auf Wiedersehen_' be it," she
answered.

Then she rode away.

I leaned against my horse's shoulder and watched her as she went slowly
down the hill, the full glory of the sinking sun upon her, and the
shadows of the great trees close on either side. Presently there came
a bend in the road and, turning in the saddle, she waved her hand.

I answered with my hat. Then she was gone. That was how I met the
Princess Royal of Valeria. And, unless she has told it (which,
somehow, I doubt), none knows it but ourselves. I had never seen her
since. Perhaps that is why I was quite content for Courtney to win his
bet. Truly, a man's heart does not age with his hair.

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