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OF CANADA, LIMITED PR bCI -^ '■: _^^.^- Ch II n II III IV II. Ill, IV. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION . . C/„.A P^^f^T I. 1. ENOCH grouch's DAUGHTER . n. THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM HI. BEAUTIFUL JULIA— AND MY LORD , IV. FATE'S WAY— OR LADY MEG'S . V. THE VISION or "SOMETHING BRIGHT PART II. 1. PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. II. THE LORD OF YOUTH .... HI. THE NOTE— AND NO REASONS . IV. THE PICTURE AND THE STAR . Page I I. II. III. IV. V. PART III. THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING AT THE GOLDEN LION THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP . THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT . A QUESTION OF MEMORY . , 9 40 53 57 69 80 89 95 X08 Z3I '4X vt CONTENTS. Chap. VI. "impossible" or •= immediate"? VII. THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT VIII. monseigneur's uniform . IX. COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS . X. THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET XI. M. ZERKOVITCII'S BEDROOM FIRE XII. JOYFUL OF HEART XIII. A DELICATE; DUTY XIV. HIS MAJESTY DIES — TO-MORKOW XV. A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HiiRCULKS . XVI. A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS XVII. INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNIT2 . XVIII. TO THE FAITHFUL CITY . XIX. THE SILVER RING . , . XX. THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA . XXI. ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI ! XXII. JEALOUS OF DEATH . . . XXIII. A WOMAN AND A GHOST I . . XXIV. TRUE TO HER LOVE . • • Page 167 179 192 204 217 233 244 259 269 281 294 308 319 335 349 362 374 389 ILLUSTRATIONS. THE SUDDEN LXOHT F.OODED THEIR PACES . WITH A FLING-OUT OF HER ARM'' HERSELF " • • • ^"^ EXniDITED THE STREAM OF TRAFFIC SET WITH HER HE RODE BV WITHOUT TURNING His „ead . THEN SHE TURNED HER EYES DOWV .. THE MOUTH OF THE POncH ^' ^^ ^"^^" SOPHV CURTSIED LOW THE ANSWER WAS AN ENRAPTURED CHEER ' '''^^^^.:::::L:T^.;r— .fJ '''ZZll Te ' ^^"^" - -- — ON WITH THE UTMOST RESPECT a-. "AN ODD world!" SAID THE VALET 'well, I'm ready" • • • "' '""'-'' ^^ ^'^" MONSEIGNEUR IF HE LIVES" "AND THEN AND THERE THE KING MARRIED HHR-" A KIOERLESS HORSE GALLOPED WILDLY PAST THEM Frontispiece Page 38 86 103 127 143 187 208 237 267 280 304 325 329 3<^3 371 a S( ti IVJ 111 m m th fa] to Pa gai dei bee Pai imi 3^mjj;^ Sophy of K ravonia. INTRODUCTION. THE following narrative falls naturally into three divisions, corresponding to distinct and cleariy! and . ^^1 P'"°^' °^ ^'P^y^ iif^- Of the fi^t and second — her chilcihr^r^A o+ A>r • , sojourn in PaX ^^^^^^^od at Morpingham and her muchTf Tn'o "7'^ '''' ''" ™Suenesstith u nocn loss. Enough remains to show bnfh fh. manner of child Sophy was and how it Jell out that she spread her wings and left the Essex vk^ ' th:'^e„chVrL!i ' r ^"' ^^^'^ ^-^^^ SOPHY OF KR.WONIA. Yet the surviving history of Paris and the life there is scanty. Only a sketch is possible. A record existed— and a fairly full one— in the Julia Robins correspondence; that we know from Miss Robins herself. But the letters written from Paris by Sophy to her lifelong friend have, with some few exceptions, perished. Miss Robins accounts for this— and in view of her careful preservation of later corre- spondence, her apology must be accepted — by the fact that during these years— from 1866 to 1870— she was constantly travelling from town to town and from lodging to lodging, as a meniber of various theatrical companies ; this nomadic existence did not promote the careful and methodical storage of her letters. It may, of course, be added that no such obvious interest attached to these records as gathered round Sophy's doings after she had exchanged Paris and the Rue de Crenelle for Slavna and the Castle cf Praslok. When this migration has been effected, the historian is on much firmer ground; he is even embarrassed sometimes by the abundance of mat- erial of varying value. Apart from public records and general memory (both carefully consulted on the spot), the two main sources flow from Sophy's own hand. They are the Robins correspondence and the diary. Nearly to the end the letters are very constant, very full, very instructive; but they are composed with an obvious view to the tastes and interests of their recipient, and by no means always INTRODUCTION. devote most space to what now seems of greatest .merest In one point, however, Miss Robins™ prove of real service. This lady, who rose to , respectable, if not a high, posifi'on as a Shake! speanan actress, was much devoted to the study o omTsT' .'n', '°P''^' "^""^ °f '"is hobbrnever omits to tell her with minute care what she herself wore on every occasion, what the other ladies wore Which the men were arrayed. Trivial, perhaps yet of great value m picturing the scenes! ^ In her letters Sophy is also copious in depicting places, houses, and landscapes-matters on"h he diary ,s naturally not so full. So that, in spTte of their great faults, the letters form a valuabk supplement to the diary. Yet what fault™ what cn^es! Sophy had learnt to talk French perfectly and to write it fairly well Sh^ hZ . learnt to write English well o^ :t /el ^ Z letters are, m fact, a charnel-house of murdereH grammar and broken-backed sentences \m,t emerge from it all a shrewdness and a ^^tZ and raciness which show that the child of the fX t-sse.. armhouse survived in the writer. Bu for this Kravonian period-the great neriod the diary .s the thing. Yet it is one o^ thr^i; anconscientious diaries ever written. It L fuH Lmt;- "° P°""^ "P ''"y ""punctually ; it t ZfZT r^P^-"°gly obscure-there m^/ be some intention m that, she could not tell into SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. what hands it might fall. But it covers most of the ground ; it begins almost with Sophy's arrival in Slavna, and the last entry records her discovery of Lord Dunstanbury's presence in Kravonia. It is written for the most part in French, and she wrote French, as has been said, decently — nay, even for- cibly, though not with elegance ; yet she frequently relapses into English — often of a very colloquial order : this happens mostly under the influence of anger or some other strong emotion. And she is dramatic — that must be allowed to her. She concen- trates her attention on what she conceives (nor is her instinct far out) to be her great scenes ; she gives (or purports to give) a verbatim report of critical conversations; and it is only just to say that she allows her interlocutors fair play. She has candour — and that, working with the dramatic sense in her, forbids her to warp the scene. In the earlier parts of the story she shows keen appreciation of its lighter aspects ; as times grow graver, her records too change in mood, working up to the tense excitement, the keen struggle, the burning emotions of her last days in Kravonia. Yet even then she always finds time for a laugh and a touch of gaiety. When Sophy herself ceases to be our guide. Lord Dunstanbury's notes become the main authority. They are supplemented by the recollection of Mr. Basil Williamson, now practising his profession of surgery in Australia ; and this narrative is also indebted to Colonel Markart, sometime secretary to INTRODUCTION. A word seems desirable on one other subject and no mean one; for it is certain tl^at Sopliy's phvsfcal S- s were a powerful ally to her ambitionf her stronj ment M h "'^'""« ""= ""^^ °f «»= reinforce ment to her powers. All the authorities named j.bove-not excepting Sophy herself-have Ztv ort"ait°"of Lr'"'' '"k' ''°"' '"^'^ -^-cl^tfon t picture one .1 "'^ ''' ^"^'"P'-d- Of actual Te e^t Lord ""'^^'^'f "i" '"« Possession of the drawn just before she left Paris and . u K^''^' M;^iHerrhnh:xt;ti;e;rVt!rr outhne and the colour are there ' "" ^trSfh^^/f ™.'^ '*"''• '°"g' ^"d thick; her nose straight and fine, her lips firm and a trifle fu H complexion was ordinarily verv d1 .nT ,;■.'' Hush save under consirlZI.^ • ' ^ ^'"= ^"^ "°' exertion of bodv st u '^"^"''" "' -"'"d or finely formed at slLderifr ""' ™<^'^'^ ""^'Sht, objected that her shl 'e 1 ! '°""""'^- '"deed. ner shape was too masculine-the SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. shoulders a trifle too square and the hips too small for a woman. These are, after all, matters of taste ; she would not have been thought amiss in ancient Athens. All witnesses agree in describing her charm as lying largely in movement, in vivacity, in a sense of suppressed force trying to break out, or (as Mr. Williamson puts it) " of tremendous driving power." The personality seems to stand out fairly distinct from these descriptions, and we need the less regret that a second picture, known to have been painted soon after her arrival in Kravonia, has perished either through carelessness or (more probably) by deliberate destruction ; there were many in Kravonia not too anxious that even a counterfeit presentment of the famous "Red Star" and its wearer should survive. It would carry its memories and its reproach. "The Red Star!" The name appears first in a letter of the Paris period — one of the few which are in existence. Its invention is attributed by Sophy to her friend the Marquis de Savres (of whom we shall hear again). He himself used it often. But of the thing we hear very early — and go on hearing from time to time. Sophy at first calls it "my mark," but she speedily adopts Monsieur le Marquis' more poetical term, and by that description it is known throughout her subsequent career. The polite artist of the 'sixties shirked it altogether by giving a half- profile view of his subject, thus not showing the left choek where the star was situated. INTRODUCTION. It WK, in fact, a small birth-mark, placed iust below the cheek-bone, almost round, yet with a s ghtly mdentcd outline. No doubt a'lovcT'nd Phrase r "i" °'""°""'' "''^^'"" ^"^S" f- '"S phrase. At ordmary times it was a very pale red in colour, but (unlike the rest of her faceT it was ve y ap,dK scnsu,ve to any change of mood or tempe 7^ m moments of e..citemcnt the shade deenened greatly, and (as Colonel Markart says in IWs hyperbohc strain) "it glowed like angry Venn " flTJy ""■''; "' "''=" "°"'«"'^' ^ conspicuous tne eyes of all who saw it. " La dame i atoiU «|. "says the Marquis. "The Red-starred Wit V' so ir, '=^~"'^™^ -"d more hostile citizens and of It tho, rr"/- ^°'"'^ ^"'"'^ ^PP^"' P™"^ Very probatlv .' '"" '° '°"='''" '' * '''^™'^'>. ,!m K 'I ^ " "'^' °"^ °f those peculiarities with ther""' T. ^'""'^ "='"='^'^<^ -' id^'ified uth the personality to which they belong as at once to heighten the love of friends and to attract a^ increased dislike or hatred from those Sidy disposed or committed to enmity. At any rate for Eood or evil, it is as "Red Star" that the iame of Sn/r '"'^^^ '" "" ""^^ -^ --■"-- of hi!l-'"T^ '" '"■'''*""' """^ '0 "'= =t00'- Little historical importance can be claimed for it. But amateurs of the picturesque, if vet ther. I .^cl SOPHY OF ::ravo::ia. in this business-like world, may care to follow Sophy from Morpingham to Paris, to share her flight from the doomed city, to be M'ith her in the Street of the Fountain, at venerable Praslok, on Volscni's crumbling wall, by the banks of ihe swift -flowing Krath at dawn of day — to tn te something of the spirit that filled, to feel sonnthing of the love that moved, the heart of Sophy Cirouch, of Morpingham, in the county of Essex. Still sometimes Romance beckons back her ancient votaries. PART I. WORPINGHAM. CHAPTER I. ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER. e^r he facT'cT"^ '' '' '^^ ^^'^^ not to be shown by and bv ^h. ^ P'"'°' ' ^' ''"' sides - unmixed linH ! "'*' '^'■°''"'' °" '«>*'> Grouch "d h^' „r:?T'='; ''^ ^"O^" begat, as his first chL s t ''*"^'"^'' ^^ y- and were born to ht '^„'; f°f y- J-° °«her c nldren Mrs. Grouch dM ' n„t ^ "^ '" ^"'^ '^ f^"<=y- l«r little ones -si '°"S ,s'>rvive the de. h of churchyard when slnh ''" '"' '" *'"P'"' ^am years old. The ehnS ^ "'"f ,"" "'°'^ "^an five of her father a man ^ u "f " '° '^' =°'« =«« ciass-indeed' latr fort" ^^ """^'^ '*'« ^°^ his -ell on in m fddie "' uTZ^f "" "'-dy ^-. '.in. about halfa mt b^^fn/.TeH^^l! 9 ■v?-^ "^ "P- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 1 iiiil Probably he made a hard living of it, for the only servant in his household was a slip of a girl of fifteen, who had, presumably, both to cook and scrub for him and to look after the infant Sophy. Nothing is remembered of him in Morpingham. Perhaps there was nothing to remember — nothing that marked him off from thousands Hke him; perhaps the story of his death, which lives in the village traditions, blotted out the inconspicuous record of his laborious life. Morpingham lies within twenty- five miles of London, but, for all that, it is a sequestered and primitive village. It contained, at this time at least, but three houses with pretensions to gentility — the Hall, the Rectory, and a smaller house across the village street, facing the Rectory. At the end of the street stood the Hall in its grounds. This was a handsome red-brick house, set in a spacious garden. Along one side of the garden there ran a deep ditch, and on the other side of the ditch, between it and a large meadow, was a path which led to the church. Thus the church stood behind the Hall grounds; and again, as has been said, beyond the church was Enoch Grouch's modest farm, held of Mr. Brownlow, the owner of the Hall. The church path was the favourite resort of the villagers, and deservedly, for it was shaded and beautified by. a fine double row of old elms, forming a stately avenue to the humble little house of worship. 10 ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER Gro^c^^tZlTnTf '" 'u" ^^" '^^^ Enoch ''ad been .X'Z^Z '"^f S t^' '' a crash. I 1" n. 'I'"' """^ ''^'^ fallen with a renewal of the treat n„ ,^ u' "'^ '*'* ''"eg^d The farmer was a Lnd 1'*' ''""'^"'^ ^■""''^y- wise, as it proved o.ft "'^''~!"°'^ '.. ^"""^h Wed another effort h/t" on ht' '" °^'*'^^ '° "^ke back over it. '"' ''"''= =""1 hent his At thi^ moment there came a loud crash-heard :" WoUr?otC1h'e slirh*^ '^"''~ " There's an"hf'' ' r - m."" °PP°'''*- a-.-.inc^i tree nonf' f '' • - gone cried Basil II SOPHY OP KRAVONIA. Williamson, the Rector's second son, who was giving his retriever an evening run. He raced through the Rectory gate, across the road, and into the avenue. A second later the garden gate of Woodbine Cot- tage opened, and Julia, the ten-years-old daughter of a widow named Robins who lived there, came out at full speed. Seeing Basil just ahead of her, she called out: "Did you hear?" He knew her voice — they were playmates— and answered without looking back : " Yes. Isn't ''•■ fun ? Keep outside the trees — keep well in the meadow!" "Stuff!" she shouted, laughing. "They don't fall every minute, sill}' ! " Running as they exchanged these words, they soon came to where the bough — or rather the two boughs — had fallen. A tragic sight met their eyes. The second bough had caught the unlucky farmer just on the nape of his neck, and had driven him down, face forwards, on to the first. He lay with his neck close -pinned between the two, and his arms spread out over the undermost. His face was bad to look at ; he was quite dead, and apparently death must have been instantaneous. Sobered and appalled, the boy and girl stood looking from the terrible sight to one another's faces. " Is he dead ? " Julia whispered. "I expect so," the boy answered. Neither of them had seen death before. The next moment he raised his voice and shouted : 12 ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER. not move the great log *"" "^^^ ^'-'d Ne«°ortl°f' " °' "'^'" ''^'' P=^=«ived Sophy heard the crash":f t o^.^'" Of tir^V"^ heed— nothing couW hV 5 "''" '"' ^°°'' "<> over the da4ert>hX^^l,^;V t^" and fthough he was 1°". 7^' '"°== '"^ '^-"^ dead man and the chUd en ^ere A^he' "'"! '^* went roind V° he oLl^H "T^* *^ "^'^^h, servant coming J^^h her When'.h ' "''"'''' '"« the Squire-s hflp had avail^t^l tLThr^ ''• from the deadly erio of thl \ I ™ '*™«r %nowo„hisWo:'the;:;:''°"^''='-<^''« lie s dead poor fellow." said Mr. Brownlow ^hudder^ frhtiSr;: t^r ""■?• ^'"^^'^ Robins sobbed and th.I I ^"""^ ^'''^- M^ Sn..ire-s face with"i've eS. ^"" '"""^^ "P « the 13 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "I'll get a hurdle, sir," said the butler. His master nodded, and he ran off. Something moved on the path — about a yard from the thick end of the lower bough. " Look there ! " cried Julia Robins. A little wail followed. With an exclamation Mrs. Brownlow darted to the spot. The child lay there with a cut on her forehead. Apparently the impact of the second bough had caused the end of the first to fly upwards; Sophy had been jerked from her seat into the air, and had fallen back on the path, striking her head on a stone. Mrs. Brownlow picked her up, wiped the blood from her brow, and saw that the injury was slight. Sophy began to cry softly, and Mrs. Brownlow soothed her. "It's his little girl," said Julia Robins. "The little girl with the mark on her cheek, please, Mrs. Brownlow." " Poor little thing, poor little thing ! " Mrs. Brownlow murmured; she knew that death had robbed the child of her only relative and protector. The butler now came back with a hurdle and two men, and Enoch Grouch's body was taken into the saddle-room at the Hall. Mrs. Brownlow followed the procession, Sophy still in her arms. At the end of the avenue she spoke to the boy and girl. "Go home, Basil, tell your father, and ask him to come to the Hall. Good night, Julia. Tell your mother — and don't cry any more. The poor man is with God, and I shan't let this mite come to harm." H ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER. She was a childless woman with a motherly heart ead" teT^ ^'^ '''''' '^^^^'^ wountdtre: nead. Then she went mto the Hall grounds and the boy and girl were left together fn he 'ro'/ Basil shook his fist at the avenue of emslht favourite playground. ^^^ ,h " ^T. ^^""'^ ^'^'*^y ^'^^^ • " he cried. " I 'd cut them all down if I was Mr. Brownlow." I must go and tell mother," said Julia, "and you'd better go too." ** ' ° .fin^^'I-^^ assented, but lingered for a moment important look in 1":^^^- ^'^ ^ ^^^ -^ ;; Why ? " the boy asked brusquely, her ch^kr'"'"""'-"'^' -"''=''«•= got on "What rot!" he said, but he looked at his com panion uneasily. The event of the evenint Th ..rred^«,e superstitious fears seldon, STo t:;^ mo'tKvs'""' o'jr ''°'^ ""■== °' """""S-so same thinTlater " '^°'''' °° ™"'' -"^ '"e ml^go!"" ^''" ""'""'"'' "S^'"' " Oh, well. I She glanced at him timidly. "Just come as far as our door with m.e. I 'm afraid ' " 15 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. JIA. ii m Ili blade of it) which bordered the path under the elm trees* " What a demure little witch she looks ! " laughed Julia Robins, who was much in the mood for laughter that day, greeting with responsive gleam of the eyes the sunlight which fell in speckles of radiance through the leaves above. It was a summer day, and summer was in her heart too : yet not for the common cause with young maidens; it was no nonsense about love-making— lofty ambition wa^-. m the case to-day. , . ., , . j • - Sophy Grouch ! Sophy Grouch ! she cried m a high merry voice. ,.j ^ Sophy raised her eyes, but her steps did not quicken. With the same measured paces of her lanky, lean, little legs, she came up to where Julia lay. "Why don't you just say 'Sophy'?" she asked. " I 'm the only Sophy in the village." '* Sophy Grouch ! Sophy Grouch 1 " Julia repeated teasingly. The mark on Sophy's left cheek grew redder. Julia laughed mockingly. Sophy looked down on her, still very grave. . „ a " You do look pretty to-day," she observed,— and happy." _ ,., "Yes, yes ! So I tease you, don't I ? But I like to see you hang out your danger-signal." She held out her arms to the little girl. Sophy came and kissed her, then sat down beside her. " Forgive ? " THE C OOK AND THE CATECHISM. "Yes," said Sophy. "Do you think it's a very awiul name ? " ^ " Oh, you '11 change it, some day," smiled Julia- speakmg more truth than she knew. "Listen- Mother's consented, consented, consented 1 I'm to go and hve with Uncle Edward in London- London, Sophy !-and learn elocution—" "Learn what?" fhrf^-^^r'"""^"""""^^^"^ '"^^"s how to talk so that people can hear you ever so far off—'' To shout?" "No. Don't be stupid. To— to be heaM nlo.vi without .houting. To be heard in a theat^f D ^ you ever see a theatre?" F,„ ''i^''-^^ =t»gel I'm to be an actress - Fancy mother consenting at last ! An actress instead of a governess! Isn't it glorious?" She paused a •■bS "r",,'"'^'' "'* =" -If-consciLs laugh: .. „n ^"'^""y ^"S'^y- though." ^ Wliy should he be angry ? » asked Sophy. Her sfckmg them here and there in her friend's golden hair. They were great friends, this pair, and Soohv was very proud of the friendship, /ulia was gmwn "P. the beauty of the village, and-a laly ^w wiih°a'birh. """"■' "'^'•-^'-d." 1-Shed Julia, 19 SOPHY OF KR AVON I A. I f " Does he want to keep company with you— and won't you do it ? " "Only servants keep company, Sophy." «* Oh 1 " said Sophy, obviously making a mental note of the information. "But he's very silly about it. I've just said 'Good-bye* to him— you knov/ he goes up to Cambridge to-morrow ?— and he '.'.id say a lot of silly things." She suddenly caught hold of Sophy and kissed her half a dozen times. "It's a wonderful thing that's happened. I'm so tremendously happy!" She set her little friend free with a last kiss and a playful pinch. Neither caress nor pinch disturbed Sophy's com- posure. She sat do\rA on the grass. " Something 's happened to me too, to-day," she announced. , , ,. •,• " Has it. Tots ? What is it ? " asked Juha, smiling indulgently ; the great events in other lives are thus sufficiently acknowledged. "I've left school, and I'm going to leave Mrs. James's, and go and live at the Hall, and be taught to help cook; and when I'm grown up I'm going to be cook." She spoke slowly and weightily, her eyes fixed on Julia's face. " Well, I call it a shame ! " cried Julia, in generous indignation. " Oh, of course it would be all right if they treated you properly— I mean, as if they'd meant that from the beginning. But they haven t. Vnu 've lived with Mrs. James, I know ; but you ve 20 TIIK COOK AND THE CATECHISM been ,n and out of the Hall all the time, having tea n the drawmg-room, and fruit at dessert, and-and o on. And you look like a little lady and talk like one-almost. I think it's a shame not to give you a better chance. Cook ' " "Don't you think it might be rather nice to be a cook— a good cook ? " ° d^°' } .'^°"'*'" ^"swered the budding Mrs Siddons decisively. "uaing Mrs. "People always talk a great deal about the cook " ••TrJ' "'"■ .."''• ^"'""'"^ =^"'== her "Ob" hTd soc id to-;i%''; fr- ■""■=«" her appreciation of the set"^ UMtl i^^P',?g ^^P^ny-" "But she can "t V "*• =''* persisted. i-or the time she can," Julia admitted " nh I wonder whafll be my first part. Tots'." st rV"rt^ "r '^!^ on'the'gS-cJ'; about her' lips ThetH'""?' '"""P^''°" "o™"^ at her fri^fchl fSe '^'^f ^'hT T ''°°' '°°'"'"e i"ena ot ^vhom she was so proud. 21 SOrilY Ol- KRAVONIA. "You'll look very, very pretty," she said with sober gravity. , ,. • , Julias smile broadened, but her hps remained shut. Sophy looked at lier for a moment longer and, without formal farewell, resumed her progress down the avenue. It was hard on lea-time, and Mrs. James was a stickler for punctuality. Yet Sophy's march was interrupted once more. A tall young man sat swinging his legs on the gate that led from the avenue into the road. The sturdy boy who had run home in terror on the night Enoch Grouch died had grown into a tall good-lookmg young fellow; he was clad in what is nowadays called a "blazer" and check trousers, and smoked a large meerschaum pipe. His expression was gloomy; the gate was shut-and he was on the top of it. Sophy approached him with some signs of nervousness. When he saw her, he glared at her moodily. "You can't come through," he said firmly. " Please, Mr. Basil, I must, I shall be late for tea.' " I won't let you through. There 1 " Sophy looked despairful. " May I climb over ? «'No," said Basil firmly; but a smile began to twitch about his lips. Quick now, as ever, to see the joint in a man s armour, Sophy smiled too. ^ ^^ " If you 'd let me through, I 'd give you a kiss, she said, offering the only thing she had to give in all the world. 22 TUL COOK AND THE CATECHlsr^f. "You would, would you? But I hate kisses. In fact I hate g.rls all round-big and little." You don't hate Julia, do you ? " " Yes, worst of all." •;0h!" said Sophy-once more the recording? reg^stenng " Oh ! "-because Julia had given quite another impression, and Sophy sought to reconcile these opposites. The young man jumped down from the gate, with ^ healtliy laugh at himself and at her, caught her up m his arms, and gave her a smacking kiss. 'That's toll," he said. "Now you can go through, missy." ' ^ ''Thank you. Mr. Basil. It's not very hard to get through, is it?" He set her down with a laugh, a laugh with a note of surprise m it; her last words had scanded odd from a child. But Sophy's eyes were quite grave; she was probably recording the practical value of a kiss. " You shall tell me whether you think the same atot that in a few years' time," he said, laughing "When I am grown up? " she asked with a slow puzzled smile. ;; Perhaps " said he, assuming gravity anew. And cook? " she asked with a curiously interro- gatiye air-anxious apparently to see what he, in his^ turn, would think of her destinv. " Cook ? You 're going to be a cook ? " 23 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ill: hit 11. 1' ill Ml iii! "The cook,' she amended. "The cook at the Hall." " I '11 come and eat your dinners." He laughed, yet looked a trifle compassionate. Sophy's quick eyes tracked his feelings. " You don't think it 's nice to be a cook, either ? " she asked. "Oh, yes, splendid! The cook's a sort of queen," said he. " The cook a sort of queen ? Is she ? " Sophy's eyes were profoundly thoughtful. "And I shall be very proud to kiss a queen— a sort of queen. Because I shall be only a poor sawbones." " Sawbones ? " "A surgeon — a doctor, you know — with a red lamp, like Dr. Seaton at Brentwood." She looked at him for a moment. "Are you really going away?" she asked abruptly. " Yes, for a bit — to-morrow." Sophy's manner expanded into a calm gracious- ness. "I'm very sorry," she said. "Thank you." "You amuse me." "The deuce I do!" laughed Basil Williamson. She raised her eyes slowly to his. "You'll be friends, anyhow, won't you?" "To cook or queen," he said— and heartiness shone through his raillery. Sophy nodded her head gravely, sealing the bar- gain. A bargain it was. THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM, ••Now 1 must go and have tea, and then sav my Catechism," said she. ^ The young felW-his thoughts were «H wanted the child to linger J learning your Catechism? Where have you to m:CL°:Z7J'''' "''"'' '"y''^'^^^-' -he'r'difficut iS"?t^.^°" Neighbour-thafs "D?yoTJo7;:p"^'' '"''' ^-'^-•''^ helf^tp^-Be^l^f^f-^-'ftr"''"? can say it to her, you know." ' " '" ''°"' ' All right, fire away." A sudden doubt smote Sophy. know It yourself?" she asked. "Yes, rather, I know it." sot^rareet7l-^S tripped for a moment over « ' t!." i ^''"S^"-and -ccour my father a^d mothen" "'"?he°S ^' no chance there R.,f q« u » *^""^ ^^d ended - ' teacher, e .^^^ ' "^'^ ^^^« ^^"'^ He Now go on'te k^^^^^^^^^ ^^'^'^^ ^^^ --*-.' m;;e'tL:^'?.« 1-^^ -verently to all " "' ^"'''^ ""^o^y by word nor deed; To 35 " But do you "Then you say SOPHY OF KRAVONU. ill!! i" ' ! . . 1 I \ be true and just in all my dealing; To bear no malice nor hatred in my heart; To keep my hands from picking and stealing, and my tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering; T- ^^^P ^ body in temperance, soberness, and chastity [The young man smiled for an instant-that sounded pathetic] ; not to covet nor desire other men s goods, but to learn and labour truly to get mine own hvmg and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it has pleased God to call me.' " " Wrong 1 " said Basil. "Go down two! "Wrong?" she cried, indignantly disbelievmg. « Wrong I " , ^ „ " It 's not ! That 's what Mrs. James taught me. <' Perhaps-it's not in the Prayer Book. Go and look." " You tell me first." - ' And to do my duty in that state of hfe unto which it shall please God to call me.' " His eyes were set on her with an amused f^'^^^ „ She stood silent for a moment. "Sure? she asked then. *« Positive," said he. -Oh!" said Sophy-for the third time. She stood there a moment longer. Then she smiled at him. " I shall go and look. Good-bye. Basil broke into a laugh. "Good-bye, missy, he said. "You'll find I'm right." "If I do, I'll tell you," she answered him generously, as she turned away. a6 THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM. His smile la^^ted while he watched her. When she was gone, his grievance revived, his gloom returned He trudged home with never a glance back at the avenue where Julia was. Yet even now he thought of the child crossed his mind; that funny mark of hers had turned redder when he corrected her rendering of the Catechism. Sophy walked into Mrs. James's kitchen. - Please may I read through my Duty before I say it ? " she asKecl. Permission accorded with some surprise-for IT f Vp'^"^ '^' ^^^" 'y -rdTmouth -she got the Prayer Book down from its shelf and conned her lesson. After tea she repeated it correctly. Mrs. James noticed no difference. a; CHAPTER III. iliiil ^ ■ ■ 1 ! 1 i f ^ \ ! ■ i 1 ^ i 1 I BEAUTIFUL JULIA — AND MY LORD. T seemed somehow impossible, me going to be cook there all my days." So writes Sophy at a later date in regard to her life at Morpingham Hall. To many of us in our youth it has seemed impossible that we should pass all our days in the humdrum occupations and the mediocre positions in which we have in fact spent them. Young ambitions are chronicled only when they have been fulfilled— unless where a born autobiographer makes fame out of his failures. But Sophy had a double portion of original restlessness— this much the records of Morpingham years, scanty as they are, render plain. Circumstances made much play with her, but she was never merely the sport of chance or of circumstances. She was always waiting, even always expecting, ready to take her chance, with arm outstretched to seize Occasion by the forelock. She co-operated eagerly with Fate and made herself a partner with Opportunity, and she was quick to blame the other members of the firm for any lack of activity or forwardness. " You can't catch the train unless you're at the station— and take care 28 BEAUTIFUL JULIA-AND MY LORD your watch isn't slow," she writes somewhere in the diary. The moral of the reflection is as obvious as Its form ; it is obvious, too, that a traveller so scrupulous to be in time would suffer proportionate annoyance if the train were late. The immediate result of this disposition of hers was unhappy, and it is not hard to sympathise with the feehngs of the Brownlows. Their benevolence was ample, but it was not unconscious; their benefits, which were very great, appeared to them exhaustive, not only above what Sophy might expect but also beyond what she could imagine. They had picked her up from the roadside and set her on the way to that sort of kingdom with the prospect of which Basil Williamson had tried to console her. The Squire was an estimable man, but one of small mind ; he moved among the little -the contented lord of a pinpoint of the earth. Mrs. Brownlow vvas a profoundly pious woman, to whom content was a high duty, to be won by the performance of other duties. If the Squire detected ^ in the girl signs of ingratitude to himself, his wife laid equal blame on a rebellion against Heaven. Sophy knew-if not then, yet on looking back- what they felt ; her references to them are charged with a remorse whose playful expression (obstinately touched with scorn as it is) does not hide its smcerity. She soon perceived, anyhow, that she was getting a bad character; she, the cook in pos.e, was at open war with Mrs. Smilker, the cook in 39 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. esse; though, to be sure, "Smilker" might have done something to reconcile her to " Grouch " ! Mrs. Brownlow naturally ranged herself on the side of constituted authority, of the superior rank in the domestic hierarchy. Moreover it is likely that Mrs. Smilker was right, in nine cases out of ten at all events; Sophy recognised that probability in after Hfe; none the less, she allows herself more than once to speak of "that beast of a Smilker." Mere rectitude as such never appealed to her; that comes out in another rather instructive comment, which she makes on Mrs. Brownlow herself. " Me being what I was, and she what she was, though I was grateful to her, and always shall be, I couldn't love her ; and what hit me hardest was that she didn't wonder at it and, in my opinion, wasn't very sorry either— not in her heart, you know. Me not loving her made what she was doing for me all the finer, you see." Perhaps these flashes of insight should not be turned on our benefactors, but the extract serves to show another side of Sophy— one which in fairness to her must not be ignored. Not only was restlessness unsatisfied, and young ambitions starved; the emotions were not fed either, or at least were presented with a diet too homely for Sophy's taste. For the greater part of this time she had no friends outside the Hall to turn to. Julia Robins was pursuing her training in London, and, later, her profession in the country. Basil Williamson, who :-;o BEAUTIFUL JULIA -AND MY LORD. "amused" her, was at Cambridge, and afterwards at his hospital; a glimpse of him she may have caught now and then, but they had no further talk. Very probably he sought no opportunity; Sophy had passed from the infants' school to the scullery ; she had grown from a child into a big girl. If prudent Basil kept these transformations in view, none can blame him — he was the son of the rector of the parish. So, when bidden to the Hall, he ate the potatoes Sophy had peeled, but recked no more of the hand that peeled them. In the main the child was, no doubt, a solitary creature. So much is what scientific men and historians call " reconstruction " — a hazardous process — at least when you are dealing with human beings. It has been kept within the strict limits of legitimate inference, and accordingly yields meagre results. The return of Julia Robins enables us to put many more of the stones — or bones, or whatever they may be called — in their appropriate places. It is the summer of 1865 — and Julia is very gorgeous. Three years had passed over her head; her training had been completed a twelvemonth before, and she had been on her first tour. She had come home " to rest "—and to look out for a new engagement. She wore a blue hat with a white feather, a blue skirt, and a red *' Garibaldi " shirt ; her fair hair was dressed in the latest fashion. The sensation she made in Morpingham needs no record. But her head was not curned; nobody was ever SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 'I li: 11 less of a snob than Julia Robins, no friendship ever more independent of the ups a^d downs of life, on one side or the other, than that which united her and Sophy Grouch. She opened communications with the Hall scullery immediately. And — " Sophy was as much of a darling as ever" — is her warm- hearted verdict. The Hall was not accessible to Julia, nor Wood- bine Lodge to Mrs. Brownlow's little cook-girl. But the Squire's coachman had been at the station when Julia's train came in: her arrival would be known in the Hall kitchen, if not upstairs. On the morrow she went into the avenue of old elms about twelve o'clock, conjecturing that her friend might have a few free moments about that hour — an oasis between the labours of the morning and the claims of luncheon. Standing there under the trees in all her finery — not very expensive finery, no doubt, yet fresh and indisputably gay — she called her old mocking challenge — " Sophy Grouch ! Sophy Grouch ! " Sophy was watching. Her head rose from th« other side of the ditch. She was down in a moment, up again, and in her friend's arms. ''It's like a puff of fresh air," she whispered, as she kissed her, and then, drawing away, looked her over. Sophy was tall beyond her years, and her head was nearly on a level with Julia's. She was in her short print gown, with her kitchen apron on ; her sleeves rolled up, her face red from the fire, her hands too, no doubt, red from washing vegetables and dishes. ^? ( 1 t BEAUTIFUL JUUA-AND MY LORD " ^^^^ ^.^^^^^ ^^ke Cinderella in the first act of . Sophy heard them w4 tSf'tVe-'t '''''","; to colour the mark on her che?k Vo . ^ '""''"' "That's beine alivp •• ^1,7 .™'^'','° a rosy tmt. sigh. ^ ■ '''* '^'* "•'* a deep-drawn Julia patted her hand consolingly ..p„. ,• S'yLter'-''^'' "- rrienl/-"Thl;* L" So;j7rL"Le1'''""^'''''^--'--''^''itche„,. Linking arms, they walked .m fi,o Rector was approaching tl The cV'^h's ""^ Ws'brtrBTher '"'f "'/ "^'-^ <'' "S words to Juhf HeTT ^"^ '"''' '^ ^'^ P'^='=-n or this sS^a^et trir^^^"''''''^^^^ beyond his jurisdiction J"'"" ''^'^ "°«' Passed as to any ladv offi-" . *' '°'"^'°"' '° ^^' only as he *a^" ,,h!!, t ''°""°" ^'''^y'^ 't=«lf to Sophy Grouch ^'"^ ''''^-^'"' ""'^ ■■» ^^S-rd 33 SOniY OF KRAVONIA. "Ah, you keep up old friendships," he said- vvith a rather forced approval. " Please don t unsettle the little one's mind, though She has to vvork-haven't you, Sophy? Good-bye, Miss Robins." , , -o ^ Sophy's mark was ruddy indeed as the Rector went on his blameless way, and Julia was squeezmg her friend's arm very hard. But Sophy said nothing, except to murmur-just once- The httle one ' " Tulia smiled at the tone. They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia was uiider- standing, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little friend, scullery-maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel with the way of the world But she decided to say nothing -the mark still glowed. It was to glow more before that day was out. They came near to the gate. Julia felt a sudden pressure on her arm. « Look 1 " whispered Sophy, her eyes lighting up ^'fyiung Tan-rode up the approach to the Hall lodge! His mare was a beauty; he sat her well. He was perfectly dressed for the exerc.se. H.s features were clear-cut and handsome. There was as fine an air of breeding about him as about he splendid Newfoundland dog which ran behind him_. Julia looked as she was bidden. " He 's handsome, 34 BEAUTIFUL JULIA-AND MY i,ord. she said. "Why " she laughed low-'q believe I know who it is~I think 1 've seen him somewhere " ••Have you?" Sophy's question was breathless. Yes, I know ! When we were at York ! He was one of the officers there; he was in a box. Sophy It's the Earl of Dunstanbury ! " Sophy did not speak. She looked. The young man— he could be hardly more than twenty— came on. Sophy suddenly hid behind her friend ("To save my pride, not her own," generous Julia explains —Sophy herself advances no such excuse), but she could see. She saw the rider's eye rest on Julia • did It rest in recognition ? It almost seemed so; yet there was doubt. Julia blushed, but she forbore from smilmg or from seeking to rouse his memory. Yet she was proud if he remembered her face from across the footlights. The young man too-being but a young man— blushed a little as he gave the pretty girl by the gate such a glance as discreetly told her that he was of the same mind as herself about her looks. These silent interchanges of opmion on such matters are pleasant diversions as one plods the highway. He was gone. Julia sighed in satisfied vanity. Sophy awoke to stern realities. " Gracious ! " she cried. " He must have come to lunch! They'll want a salad! You'll be here to- morrow-do!" And she was off, up the drive, and roimd to her own regions at the back of the house. '• I believe iiis Lordship did remember my face," ii SOPHY OF •, M I KRAVONIA, thought JuHa as she wandered back to Woodbine Cottage. But Sophy washed lettuces in her scullery— which, save for its base purposes, was a pleasant airy apart- ment, looking out on a path that ran between yew hedges and led round from the lawn to the offices of the house. Diligently she washed, as Mrs. Smilkcr had taught her (whether rightly or not is nothing to the purpose here), but how many miles away was her mind ? So far away from lettuces that it seemed in no way strange to look up and see Lord Dunstan- bury and his dog on the path outside the window at which she had been performing her task. He began hastily — " Oh, I say, I 've been seeing my mare get her feed, and— er— do you think you could be so good as to find a bone and some water for Lorenzo ? " "Lorenzo?" she said. " My dog, you know." He pointed to the hand- some beast, which wagged an expectant tail. " Why do you call him that ? " Dunstanbury smiled. " Because he 's magnificent. I dare say you never heard of Lorenzo the Magnifi- cent? "No. Who was he?" " A Duke— Duke of Florence— in Italy." He had begun to watch her face, and seemed not impatient for the bone. "■ Florence ? Italy ? " The lettuce dropped from her hands; she wiped her hands slowly on her apron. 36 BEAUTIFUL JULIA-AND MY LORD. hand- " Do you think you could get me one ? " "Yes, I'll get it." She went to the back of the room and chose a bone. " Will this do ? " she asked, holding it out through the wmdow. "Too much meat." " Oh ! " She went and got another. " This one all right ? " "Capital ! Do you mind if I stay and see him eat It? " No." " Here, Lorenzo ! And thank the lady ! " Lorenzo directed three sharp barks at Sophy and fell to. Sophy filled and brought out a bowl of water. T 1 Dunstanbury had lighted a cigar. But he ^v watching Sophy. A new light broke on him suddenly. I* I say, were you the other girl behind the gate ? " "I didn't mean you to see me." " I only caught a glimpse of you. I remember your friend, though." "She remembered you too." "I don't know her name, though." "Julia Robins." " t^' yf -"^^ '^ ? He 's about polished off that bone, hasn t he ? Is she-er-a great friend of yours ? " His manner was perhaps a little at fault: the s ightest note of chaff had crept into it ; and the slightest was enough to put Sophy's quills up. 37 SOPHY OF KKAVONIA. t " Why not ? " she asked. "Why not? Every reason why she should be," he answered with his lips. His eyes answered more, but he refrained his tongue. He was scrupulously a gentleman— more so perhaps than, had sexes and places been reversed, Sophy herself would have been. But his eyes told her. " Only," he went on, " if so, why did you hide ? " That bit of chaff did not anger Sophy. But it went home to a different purpose— far deeper, far truer home than the young man had meant. Not the mark only reddened— even the cheeks flushed. She said no word. With a fling-out of her arms —a gesture strangely, prophetically foreign as it seemed to him in after-days— she exhibited herself —the print frock, the soiled apron, the bare arms, red hands, the ugly knot of her hair, the scrap of cap she wore. For a moment her lips quivered, while the mark-the Red Star of future days and future fame— grew redder still. The only sound was of Lorenzo's worrying the last tough scrap of bone. The lad, gentleman as he was, was good flesh and blood too-and the blood was moving. He felt a little tightness in his throat ; he was new to it. New too was Sophy Grouch to • what his eyes said to her, but she took it with head erect and a glance steadily levelled at his. " Yes " he said. " But I shouldn't have looked at any of 'that-and I shouldn't have looked at her either." 38 With a fling-out of hev arms . . , she exhibited herself. 38 BEAUTIFUL JULIA-AND MY LORD. Brightly the mark glowed ; subtly the eyes glowed. There was silence again. ALnost a start marked Dunstanbury's awakening. "Come, Lorenzo!" he cried; he raised his hat and turned away, followed by his dog Lorenzo the Magnificent. Sophy took up her lettuces and carried them into the kitchen. '• There you are, at last! And what's put you in a temper now?" asked Mrs. Smilker. She had loarnt the signs of the mark. Sophy smiled. "It's not temper this time, Mrs. Smilker. I— I'm very happy to-day," she said. "Oh, I do hope the salad will be good!" For he who was to eat of the salad — had he not forgotten print frock and soiled apron, bare arms, red hands, ugly knot, and execrable cap ? He would not have looked at them— no, nor at beautiful many- tinted Julia Robins in her pride ! He had forgotten all these to look at the stained cheek and the eyes of subtle glow. She had glanced in the mirror of love and sipped from the cup of power. Such was her first meeting with Lord Dunstanbury. If it were ever forgotten, it was not Dunstanbury who forgot. The day had wrought much in her eyes; it had wrought more than she dreamed of. Her foot was near the ladder now, though she could not yet see the lowest rung. 39 CHAPTER IV. fate's way— or lady meg's. r TH E scene is at Hazleby, Lord Dunstanbury's Essex seat. His Lordship is striking the top off his breakfast egg. " I say, Cousin Meg, old Brovvnlow's got a deuced pretty kitchen-maid." "There you go! There you go! Just like your father, and your grandfather, and all of them. If the English people had any spirit, they'd have swept the Dunstanburys and all the wicked Whig gang into the sea long ago." "Before you could turn round, they'd have bought it up, enclosed it, and won an election by opening it to ships at a small fee on Sundays," said Mr. Pindar. " Why are Whigs worse than Tories ? " inquired Mr. Pikes, with an air of patient inquiry. "The will of Heaven, I suppose," sniffed Lady Margaret Duddington. "To display Divine Omnipotence in that line," suggested Mr. Pindar. "A deuced pretty girl!" said Dunstanbury in reflective tones. He was doing his best to reproduce 40 tATES VVAY-OR LADY MEG'S. visit? You 11 drive us ever, Percival ? " resold:; !' wis "".'l Tr '''' '"« y°-S --. " "■■saoin I 11 send you over, if you like." I 11 come with you," said Pikes. "But how account for ourselves? Old Brownlow is unLoZ "If Percival had been going I'd hav^ i,=.j .u- to do with it, but I don'rminr) M """""^ sillies " saiH T J„ \f '*'"°S ^O" '""O o'd cal on r r ^5^ *^"S=^st. "I wanted to pay a sight of thVkiTchermaid." ' "°" ' ^"^"'"^'' >- ^ ob^rdXrbtr"'' "" •'"' °' '"^ ~^'" o.;:^^dir^^.1e^S;"^-"•sa.re^^^ Drn.V,''? "'\^ '° «° ""-f" hours at a time as th : re"\er: ^Ttf =" «-'^>' "he" Berkelev %n, f "' ^"^^ **««'= house in They w^rf T^' J f ''"'^ ^'"°=' ^^^^ were. ticians-pfJ t'J^u'" '=°"''<*^^ themselves pJi. PhdarT T ! ^?'^' *™*"'y y«"s beWnd date • Pmdar a Tory, two hundred. It was ail an affectl' 4' SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. E i i i '• , ^ \\ tion— assumed for the purpose, but with the very doubtful result, of amusing Lady Meg. To Dun- stanbury the two old waifs— for waifs on the sea of society they were, for all that each had a sufficient income to his name and a reputable life behind him —were sheerly tiresome, and there seems little ground to differ from his opinion. But they were old family friends, and he endured with his usual graciousness. . Their patroness— they would hardly have jibbed at the word— was a more notable person. Lady Meg— the world generally, and Sophy always, spoke of her by that otyle, ani we may take the same liberty— was only child of the great Earl of Dun- stanbury. The title and estates passed to his grand-nephew, but half a million or so of money came to her. She took the money, but vowed, with an outspoken thankfulness, that from the Dunstanbury family she had taken nothing else. If the boast were true, there must have been a powerful strain of eccentricity and perversity deriving from elsewhere. All the Dunstanbury blood was Whig ; Lady Meg counted the country ruined in 1688. Every Dun- stanbury had been a man of sensibility ; Lady Meg declared war on emotion— especially on the greatest of all emotions. The Dunstanbury attitude m thought had always been free, even tending to th:. materialistic; Lady Meg would believe in anything —so long as she couldn't see it. A queer woman, choosing to go to war with the world and infinitely )i le very ) Dun- the sea ifficient nd him 5 little ;y were s usual ! jibbed Lady 5, spoke Lo same )f Dun- to his money ed, with itanbury le boast strain of sewhere. idy Meg ry Dun- ady Meg greatest itude in g to thL anything woman, infinitely FATE'S WAY— OR LADY MEGS. enjoying the gratuitous conflict which she had herself provoked! With half a million and the Duddington blood one can afford these recondite luxuries— and to have a Pindar and a Pikes before whom to exhibit their rare flavour. She was aggressive, capricious, hard to live with. Fancies instead of purposes, whims instead of interests, and not, as it seems, much affection for anybody — she makes rather a melancholy picture ; but in her time she made a bit of a figure too. 1 he air of the household was stormy that day at Morpingham — an incentive to the expedition, not a deterrent, for Lady Meg, had she known it. Sophy was in sore disgrace, accused, tried, and convicted of insubordination and unseemly demeanour towards Mrs. Smilker. The truth seems to be that this good woman (Rest her soul ! She has a neat tomb- stone in Morpingham churchyard) loved— like many another good creature — good ale sometimes a trifle too well ; and the orders she gave when ale had been plentiful did not always consort with her less mellow injunctions. In no vulgar directness, but with a sarcasm which Mrs. Smilker felt without under- standing, Sophy would point out these inconsistencies. Angered and humiliated, fearful too, perhaps, that her subordinate would let the secret out, Mrs. Smilker made haste to have the first word with the powers ; and against the word of the cook the word of the cook-maid weighed as naught. After smaller troubles of this origin there had come a sort of 43 SOPHY OF KR AVON I A. crisis to-day. The longest of long lectures had been read to Sophy by mistress and repeated (slightly condensed) by master; then she was sent away to think it over; an abject apology to out- raged Mrs. Smilker must be forthcoming, or banish- ment was the c ecree. Informed of this ultimatum, Sophy went out and hung about the avenue, hoping for Julia to appear. Soon Julia came and heard the story. She had indignation in readiness and— what was more to the purpose — a plan. Soon Sophy's eyes grew bright. Into this stc :m-tossed house came Lady Meg and her "spaniels." This unkind name, derived at first from the size and shape of Mr. Pindar's ears (they were large and hung over at the top), had been stretched to include Mr. Pikes also, with small loss of propriety. Both gentlemen were low of stature, plump of figure, hairy on the face; both followed obediently at the heels of commanding Lady Meg. The amenities of the luncheon-table opened hearts. Very soon the tale of Sophy's iniquities was revealed ; incidently, and unavoidably if Sophy's heinous fault were to appear in its true measure, the tally of the Brownlows* benevolence was reckoned. But Mrs. Brownlow won small comfort from Lady Meg ; she got a stiff touch of the truth. " Ran in and out of the drawing-room ! " she said. " Did she ? The truth is, Lizzie, you 've spoilt her, and now you 're angry with her for being spoih." •14 FATE'S WAY-OR LADY ^lEG'S. ^s had jpeated as sent :o out- aanish- natum, hoping heard and — Soon [eg and ved at r's ears p), had h small low of 5; both landing Dn-table Sophy's ^oidably its true ivolence 1 small ouch of >he said, oilt her, ih." 'Ji::- Brown low? " asked Was this Percival's " What is she now, Mrs. Pindar, with a sly intention, deuced pretty girl ? " She works in the kitchen, Mr. Pindar." "The girl!" his eyes signalled to Mr. Pikes. " Let Lady Meg see her," he urged insinuatingly. *• She has a wonderful way with girls." •' I don't want to see her ; and I know your game, Pindar," said Lady Meg. " I 'm afraid she must go," sighed Mrs. Brownlow. Her husband said, more robustly, that such an event would be a good riddance — a saying repeated, with the rest of the conversation, by the butler (one William Byles, still living) to the gratified ears of Mrs. Smilker in the kitchen. " But I 'm not easy about her future. She 's an odd child, and looks it." " Pretty ? " This from Mr. Pindar. "Well, I don't know. Striking -looking, you'd rather say, perhaps, Mr. Pindar." "Let her go her own way. We've talked quite enough about her." Lady Meg sounded decisive— and not a little bored. "And then" — Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment— ^' such a funny mark! Many people wouldn't hke it, I 'm sure." Lady Meg turned sharply on her. " Mark ? What do you mean ? What mark ? " "A mark on her face, you know. A round red mark " 45 1 ! " \ ui ii SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. •' Big as a threepenny bit, pretty nearly," said the Squire. « Where ? " "On her cheek." "Where is the girl?" asked Lady Meg. Her whole demennour had changed. Her bored air had vanished. "She seemed fair excited," Mr. Byles reports. Then she turned to the said Byles : "Find out where the girl is, and let me know. Don't tell her anything about it. I '11 go to her." " But let me send for her " began the Squire courteously. "No, give me my own way. I don't want her frightened." The Squire gave the orders she desired, and the last Mr. Byles heard as he left the room was from Lady Meg — "Marks like that always mean something, eh, Pindar?" No doubt Mr. Pindar agreed, but his reply is lost. The girls in the avenue had made their plan. Sophy would not bow her head to Mrs. Smilker, nor longer eat the bread of benevolence embittered by servitude. She would go with Julia ; she too would tread the boards— if only she could get her feet on them ; and when did any girl seriously doubt her ability to do that ? The pair were gay and laughing, when suddenly through the gate came Lady Meg and the spaniels— Lady Meg ahead as u«ual, and with a purposeful air. 40 I FATE'S WAY— OR LADY MEG'S. lid the . Her •ed air ," Mr. Byles : know. I her." I Squire ant her and the as from ing, eh, ^ is lost, ir plan, iker, nor ;ered by lo would feet on )ubt her aughing, idy Meg ual, and " Who are they ? " cried Sophy. Hazleby is but twelve miles from Morpingham. Julia had been over to see the big house, and had sighted Lady Meg in the garden. " It 's Lady Margaret Duddington," she whis- pered, rather in a fright. There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified by her dress, and, to Lady Meg's devouring eyes, by the mark. " You 're the girl who 's been behaving so badly ? '* she said. Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered " Yes." At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: '• Percival's girl ! " " You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do ? Say you 're sorry ? " " No. I 'm not sorry. I 'm going away." " Come here, girl, let me look at you." Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face. She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long at her. " Going away ? Where to ? " Julia spoke up. " She 's coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it would seem, was a little frightened. "Who are you?" 47 I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ' U-.i r "Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage. " I—I 'm on \he stage " "Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg dis- concerting!}'. "Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain her expression of it faulty. " And I-I 'm going to help her to -to get an engagement. We're friends." "What's she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg's forefinger almost touched the mark. "Oh, that's all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and powder " " Nasty mess ! " said Lady Meg. A pause followed. Lady Meg still studying Sophy's face. Then, without turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen behind her — " I expect this is Percival's young person." "Without a doubt," said Pikes. "And Percival was right about her too," said Pindar. " Think so ? I ain't sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don't care twopence about that. ^"* " A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny " Your name 's Sophy, isn't it ? " "Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch." "Grouch?" " I said Grouch." E !| I < [ 48 FATE'S WAY-OR LADY MhGS Humph t Well, Sophy, don't go on tho stage It s a poor affa,r, the stage, begging Miss JuH^^ pardon-I'm sure she'll do admirably at it. B^.t for'^he f ■".," " J'"^='^ ""' --" '° "^ d thS«>' "' ""' ' " ■''"" ''" ^°P''^'= ^^^= 8-- "The vorld— places-London— Paris-men nnd women-Lord help them! Come with me ."d I '11 show you all that." ' " ;; What shall I do if I come with you ? " uo? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, hke the rest of us. Eh, Pindar?" "I shanTb:" '''" "'• ^'"'^"' ^'l' ^ P'-'-d ^-nile. ^^ 1 snan t be a— a servant again ? " Everybody in my house is a slave, I 'm told but you^n't be more of a slave than the rest.'' Will you have me taught ' - Lady Meg looked hard at her. For the first tim. she smiled, rather grimly. "Yes T Ml if tauffht anrf T Ml .h ,. ' " *^^^^ you «ugnt, and I 11 show you the Queen of En-land and, If you behave yourself, the Emper3r of the' French^Lord help him'" ^ M^Pildar.'"' ''' ''''^" '^"^^^^" ----^ed doTrsayTr'" •/"'"' N- then, what understand t P^oir' ' sT"f '' ' "^"^ ^^^ ^^ ,r,op.... ^ ^t properly. She became silent for a "^"^'^n. juha was thinking her a very rude fi 49 lit I :f' 'H Hi "ill i S5' SOrilY OF KRAVONIA. woman; but, since Mr. Pindar did not mind, who need? Lady Meg resumed. " I won't make an obligation of you— I mean I won't be bound to you ; and you shan't be bound to me. You'll stay with me as long as you like, or as long as I like, as the case may be. If you want to go, put your visiting-card— yes, you '11 have one— in an envelope and send it to me. And if I want you to go, I 'U put a hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you— upon which you'll go, and no reasons given! Is it agreed?" " It sounds all right," said Sophy. " Did you always have that mark on your cheek?" " Yes, always. Father told me so." " Well, will you come ? " Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor thing ? Was that mysterious " real thing " better ? Though even of that this strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some underground channel of understanding between them : for Sophy knew that Lady Meg was more than interested in her— that she was actually excited about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the Emperor of the French— though even then came that saving " Lord help him ! " todamp an over-ardent expectation. •' Let me speak to Julin," said Sophy. Lady Meg • 50 FATES WAY-OR LADY MEG'S. d, \vho ligation .nd you me as ise may d— yes, : to me. 1-pound n which eed?" :heek?" tractive, [ her as r thing ? Though ornfully. jrground T Sophy ested in ler; and )layed a y's eyes • of the g " Lord ;ion. ady Meg nodded ; the girls linked arms and walked apart Pmdar came to Lady Meg's elbow ' "Another whim ! " said he, in a low voice. Pikes was lookmg round the vbv. with a kind of vacant contentment. vacant " Yes " she said. His lips moved. « I know what you said You said : ' You old fool ! ' Pindar." " Never, on my life, my iady ! " They seemed more friends now than patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dun- stanbury and the old gentleman was no liar excited. That mark must mean something. It may open a way." ** ^'' For her ? " he asked, smiling. " It must for her. It may for me." "A way where?" "To knowledge--knowledge of the unknown, ihey may speak through her ! " "Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It 's very cruel." W.V. •' ' '''^° ^°°^'' ^^"^^^? Fate has her Wcl^ s. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. " Not halt- as amusing as your ladyship's ! " Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round la^v'iw. ^'"I'race was long; it spoke farewell. Udy Megs eyes brightened. "She's coming with n.e she sa.d. Pmdar shrugged his shoulders aga" and fell back to heel. Sophy walked briskly up 5t }, 1 SOPHY OF KKAVr»NlA. " I '11 come, my lady," she said. " Good. To-morrow afternoon— to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue following. JuHa came to Sophy. "We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real thing, Sophy ! " " My dear, my dear ! " murmured Sophy, half m tears. " Yes, we must write." She drew back and stood erect. " It 's all very dark," she said. " But I like it. London— and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with new import now. " The Emperor of the French ! " Julia mocked— with tears in her eyes. A sudden thought occurred to Sophy. "What did she mean by ' Percival's young person'? Is his name Percival?" Julia gave a little cry. "Lord Dunstanbury s ? Yes. You've seen him again? She drew out the story. It made the sorrow of parting half forgotten. ^ "You owe this to him, then! How romantic! was actress Julia's conclusion. In part a true one, no doubt. But Sophy, looking deeper, fingered the Red Star. She had tracked the magnet of Lady Meg's regard, the point of her interest, the pivot of decision for that mind of whims. 52 Dn. Mrs. tie turned ir retinue CHAPTER V. i's right. THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT." y, half in back and "But I 16 !" Old mocked — . " What a ' ? Is his tanbury's ? sorrow of omantic ! " I true one, agered the ;t of Lady the pivot T IL TITH that scene in the avenue of elm trees W at Morpingham there comes a falling of the veil. Letters passed between Sophy and Julia Robins, but they have not been preserved. The diary was not yet begun. Basil Williamson did not move in the same world with Lady Meg and her entourage: Dunstanbury was in Ireland, where his regiment was then stationed. For the next twelve months there is only one glimpse of Sophy — that a passing and accidental one, although not without its significance as throwing a light on Lady Meg's adoption of Sophy (while it lasted it amounted to that), and on the strange use to which she hoped to be able to turn her protegee. The reference is, however, tantalisingly vague just where explicitness would have been of curious interest, though hardly of any real importance to a sensible mind. The reference occurs in a privately printed volume of reminiscences by the late Captain Hans Fleming, R.N., a sailor of some distinction, but better known as a naturalist. Writing in the winter of 1865-6 53 ! 'M SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. I- I' ill (he gives no precise date), he describes in a letter a meeting with Lady Meg — whom, it will be noticed, he calls " old Lady Meg," although at that time she was but forty-nine. She had so early in life taken up an attitude of resolute spinsterhood that there was a tendency to exaggerate her years. "To-day in the park I met old Lady Meg Dud- dington. It was piercing cold, but the carriage was drawn up under the trees. The poor spaniels on the opposite seat were shivering ! She stopped me and was, for her, very gracious ; she only * Lord-helped- me ' twice in the whole conversation. She was full of her ghosts and spirits, her seers and witches. She has got hold of an entirely new prophetess, a certain woman who calls herself Madame Mantis and knows all the secrets of the future, both this side the grave and the other. Beside Lady Meg sat a remarkably striking girl, to whom she introduced me, but I didn't catch the name. I gathered that this girl (who had an odd mark on one cheek, almost like a pale pink wafer) was, in old Meg's mad mind anyhow, mixed up with the prophetess — as medium, or subject, or inspiration, or something of that kind — I don't understand that nonsense, and don't v/ant to. But when I looked sceptical (and old Pindar chuckled — or it may have been his teeth chattering with the cold), Meg nodded her hr^d px the girl and said: • She '11 tell you a different tale some day : if you meet her in five years' time, perhaps.' I don't know what the old lady meant : I suppose the girl did, but 54 1 i TEE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT." she looked absolutely indifferent and indeed bored. One can't help being amused, but, seriously, it's rather sad for a man who was brought up in the reverence of Lord Dunstanbury to see his only daughter — a clever woman too, naturally — devotinc^ herself to such childish stuff." Srch is the passage ; it is fair to add that most of the Captain's book is of more general interest. As he implies, he ha had a long acquaintance with the Dunstanbury family, and took a particular interest in anything that related to it. Nevertheless what he says has its place here; it fits in with and explains Lady Meg's excited and mystical exclama- tion to Mr. Pindar at Morpingham, "They may spaak through her ! " Apparently " They " had spoken — to what effect we cannot even conjecture, unless an explanation be found in a letter of the Kravonian period, in which Sophy says to Julia: "You remember that saying of Mantis' when we were in London — the one about how she saw something hanging in the air over my head — something bright." That is all she says— and "something bright" leaves the matter very vague. A sword — a crown — the nimbus of a saint : imagination might play untrammelled. Still some prophecy was made; Lady Meg built on it, and Sophy (for all her apparent indiffei iice) remembered it, and in after -days thought it worthy of recall. That is as far as we can go; and with that passing tiiimpse Sophy Grouch 55 SOPHY OF KtlAVOKiA. (of course the mention of the waferlike mark puts her identity lu-'ond question) passes out of sight for the time; indeed, as Stphy Grouch, in the position in which v.j have seen her and in the name under which ve have known her, she passes out of sight for ever. 56 PART II. PARIS. CHAPTER I. PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. LADY MEG left London for Paris towards the ^ end of 1865 or the beginning of 1866, but we hear nothing of her doings until the early summer of 1868. The veil lifts then so far as it ever lifts from before the face of the Paris period, and shows us the establishment in the Rue de Crenelle. A queer picture it is in many ways; it gives reason to think that the state of mind to which Lady Meg had now come is but mildly described as eccentricity. The eminent Lord Dunstanbury, Lady Meg's father, had been one of that set of English Whigs and Liberals who were much at home in Paris in the days of the July Monarchy. Among his friends was a certain Marquis de Savres, the head of an old French family of Royalist principles. This gentle- man had, however, accepted the throne of Louis Philippe and the political principles and leadership of Guizot. Between him and Lord Dunstanbury there arose a close intimacy, and Lady Meg as a girl had often visited in the Rue de Crenelle. Changed as her views were, and separated as she was from most of her father's coterie in Paris, friendship and ^1 m SOPHY OF KR AVON I A I: a: !i;il 11 intercourse between her and the Savres family had never dropped. The present head of that family was Casimir de Savres, a young man of twenty- eight, an officer of cavalry. Being a bachelor, he preferred to dwell in a small apartment on the other side of the river, and the family house in the Rue de Crenelle stood empty. Under some arrangement (presumably a business one, for M. de Savres was by no means rich) Lady Meg occupied the first floor of the roomy old mansion. Here she is found established; with her, besides three French servants and an English coachman (She has for the tim.e apparently shaken off the spaniels), is Mademoiselle Sophie de Grucbe, m whose favour Sophy Grouch has effected an unobtrusive disappearance. This harmless, if somewhat absurd, transformation was carried out with a futile elaboration smacking of Lady Meg's sardonic perversity rather than of Sophy's directer methods. Sophy would probably have claimed the right to call herself what she pleased, and left the world to account for her name in any way it pleased. Lady Meg must needs fit her up with a story. She was the daughter of a Creole gentleman married to an English wife. Her mother being early left a widow, Sophy had been brought up entirely in England; hence her indifferent acquaintance with French. If this excuse served a purpose at first, at any rate it soon became un- noces'^-ary. Sophy's marked talent for language (She PHAROS. MANTIS, AND CO. rm subsequently mastered Kravonian, a very difficult dialect, in the space of a few months) made French a second native tongue to her within a year. But the story was kept up. Perhaps it imposed on nobody ; but nobody was rude enough — or interested enough — to question it openly. Sophy herself never refers to it; but she used the name from this time forward on all occasions except when writing to Julia Robins, when she continues to sign " Sophy " as before — a habit which lasts to the end, notwith- standing other changes in her public or official style. The times were stirring, a prelude to the great storm which was soon to follow. Paris wa' .'1 of men who in the next few years were to make or lose fame, to rise with a bound or fall with a crash. Into such society Lady Meg's name, rank, and parentage would have carried her, had she cared to go; she could have shown Sophy the Emperor of the French at close quarters instead of contenting herself with a literal fulfilment of her promise by pointing him out as he drove in the streets. But L;^ -y I leg was rabid against the Empire ; her " Lord heip him ! "— the habitual expression of contempt on her lips -—was never lacking for the Emperor. Her political associates were the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germains, and there are vague indications that Lady Meg was very busy among them and conceived herself to be engaged in intrigues of vital import- ance. The cracks in the imposing Imperial structure 59 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. I! i( ! ! !i i were visible enough by now, and every hosl.le party was on the lod oUt lo. ics chance. , . , „„ As we all know, perhaps no chance, ccrtamly no power to use a chance, was given to Lady Meg s friends ; and we need not repine that ignorance spares us the trouble of deaUng with their unfruitful hopes and disappointed schemes. Still the intrigues the gossip, and the Royalist atmosphere were to Sophy in some sort an introduction to political interests, and no doubt had an infl"«"« .°" . ^l" mind. So r.r as she ever acquired poht.cal principles -the existence of such in her mina is, it must bo confessed, doubtful - they were the tenets which reigned in the Rue de Crenelle and in the h .uses of ^t o^nte'^rS S Meg are the nobles and Madame Mantis and Pharos. Where the carcass is there will the vultures be; should the carcass get up and walk, prestv.ably th. vultures would wing an expectant way after iL Maatis-.-the 77° °f*^ prophecy about something bright -had followed Ldy Meg T 1 .ris, scenting frc* prey. But a more inger as id powerful .coundrel came on the scene; in association with Mantis-probably ve^ dose and not creditable ».=»--'T"th? ReouUrc lean Coulin. In after-days, under the Republic, tWs personage got himself into trouble, and .as tried at Lille for obtaining no less a sum tuan 60 niARO:!. MANTIS. AND CO. 150,000 francs from a rich old Royalist lady who lived in the ncighbourliood of the town. The rogue got his money under cover of a vaticination that MacMahon would restore the monarchy — a nearer approach to the real than he reached in his dealings with Lajy Meg, but not, probably, on that account any the more favourably viewed by his judges. The Presidem's interrogation of the priso ler, ranging over his whole life, tells us the bulk of what we know of him ; but the earliest sketch comes from Sophy herself, in one of the rare letters of this period which have survived. "A dirty scrubby fellow, with greasy hair and a squint in his eye," she tells Julia Robins. " He wears a black cloak down to his heels, and a gimcrack thing round his neck that he calls his 'periapt' — charm, I sup- pose he means. Says he can work spells with it! And his precious partner Mantis kh::>es it [Italics are Sophy's] whenever she meets him. Phew ! I 'd hke to give them both a dustin What do you think ' Pharos, as he calls himselt, telh; Lady Meg he can make the dead speak to her ; and she says that isn't it possible that since they've died themselves and know all about it, the- may be able to tell her how not to! Seeing how this suits his book it isn't Pharos who 's goir ; to say * No,' though he tells her to make a will in Cc' ,e anything happens before he 's read'^ to 'esiablish communication' — and perhap they won't tell, after all, but he thinks they will! Now I come into the game! Me being very sym- 61 i? ! i< il ! i i\ i SOniY or KRAVONTA pathetic, they 're to talk ihyough me [Italics again are Sophy's]. Did you ever hear of such nonsense ? I told Master Pharos that I didn't know whether his ghosts would talk through nie, hut i didn't need any of their help to pretty well sec through him! But Lady Meg's hot on it. 1 suppose it's what I 'm here for, and I must let him try — or pretend to. It 's all one to me, and it pleases Lady Meg. Only he and I have nothing else to do with one another I I '11 see to that. To tell you the truth, I don't like the look in his eye sometimes — and I don't think Mrs. Mantis would either ! " As a medium. Sophy was a failure. She was antagonistic — purposely antagonistic, said Jean Coulin, attempting to defend himself against the President's suggestion that he had received some- thing like three thousand pounds from Lady Meg and given her not a jot of supernatural information in return. This failure of Sophy's was the first rift betvi'een Lady Meg and her. Pharos could have used it against her, and his power was great; but it was not at present his game to eject her from the household. He had other ends in view; and there was no question of the hundred-pound note yet. It is pleasant to turn to another figure — one which stands out in the meagre records of this time and bears its prominence well. Casimir Marquis de Savres is neither futile nor sordid, neither schemer nor impostor. He was a brave and simple soldier and Pftntleman, holdinp ni"' ancestral orinciples in '««iS T'FIAKO', MANTIS, AND CO. his heart, but content to serve his country in evil times until good should conic. He was courteous and attentive to Lady Meg, touching her follies with a li-ht hand ; and to Sophy he gave his love with an honest and impetuous sinccritv, which he masked by a gay humour— lest his lady should be grieved at the havoc she herself had made. His feelings about Pharos, his partner, and his jugglings, need no description. " If you are neither restoring the King nor raising the devil to-morrow, I should like to come to break- fast," he writes in one of his early letters. *' O Lady of the Red Star, if it were to restore you to your kingdom in the star whose sign you bear, I would raise the devil himself, all laws of Church and State notwithstanding ! I came on Tuesday evening— you were surrounded by most unimpeachable dowagers. Excellent principles and irreproachable French ! But, mon Dieu, for conversation ! I came on Thursday afternoon. Pharos and Mantis held sway and I dared not look round for fear of my ancestors being there to see me in the Emperor's uniform' Tell me when there will be no ancestors living or dead, nor dowagers nor devil?, that I may come and see you. if dear Lady Meg [Laidee Maig !J* should be pursuing one or the other in other places, yet forbid me not to come. She has whims, we •He is apparently mimicking Sophy's mimicking of his pronunciation. * 63 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. know, but not, thank Heaven, many principles ; or, if she has our principles, at least she scorns our etiquette. Moreover queens make etiquette, and are not ruled by what they make. And Star-Queens are more free and more absolute still. What a long note— all to ask for a breakfast 1 No, it 's to ask for a sight of your eyes— and a volume would not be too long for me to write— though it would be a bad w'ay to make friends with the eyes that had to read it 1 I believe I go on writing because it seems in some way to keep you with me; and so, if I could write always of you, I would lay down my sword and take up the pen for life. Yet writing to you, though sweet as heaven, is as the lowest hell from which Pharos fetches devils compared with seeing you. Be kind. Farewell. «Casimir." To this he adds a postscript, referring apparently to some unrecorded incident — « Yes, the Emperor did ask who it -vas the other day. I was sure his eye hit the mark. I have the information direct." It is very possible that this direct information pleased Sophy. Last among the prominent members of the group in which Sophy lived in Paris is Madame Zerkovitch. Her husband was of Russian extraction, his father having settled in Kravonia nnd become naturahsed .iu PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. es; or, ns our ;e, and Queens a long ask for ; be too ad way ead it ! n some d write nd take though i which ou. Be MIR." parentiy le other I have jrmation tie group rkovitch. is father Lturaiised there. The son was now in Paris as correspondent to one of the principal papers of Slavna. Madame Zerkovitch was by birth a Pole ; not a remarkable woman m herself, but important in this history as the effective link between these davs and Sophy's life in Kravonia. She was small and thin, with auburn hair and very bright hazel eyes with light -coloured lashes. An agreeable talker, an accomplished singer, and a kind-hearted woman, she was an acquaintance to be welcomed. Whatever strange notions she harboured about Sophy in after-days, she conceived from the beginning, and never lost, a strong affection for her, and their friendship ripened quickly from their first meeting at Lady Meg's, where Marie Zerkovitch was a frequent visitor, and much interested in Pharos' hocus-pocus. The occasion was one of the stances where Sophy was to be medium. It was a curious scene. Gaunt Lady Meg, with her eyes strained and eager, superintended the arrangements. "Lord help you!" was plentiful for everybody, even for the prophet Pharos himself when his miracle was behind time. Mantis was there, subterraneously scornful of her unwilling rival; and the rogue Pharos himself, with his oily glibness, his cheap mystery, and his professional jargon. Two or three dowagers and Casimir de Savres-who had to unbuckle his sword and put it outside the door tor reasons insuffinVnfhr Avr^u,- — j i . , ., 65 U ! SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. oartv In the middle sat Sophy, smiling P^'ti^^f J' C Vh her white brow wrinkled ,ust a hnle beneath the arching masses o her dark h^r. On her lips the smile persisted all through ; the mark t^ hardly visible "No more than the slightest Tnkness I didn't notice it till I had looked at C fo uU five minutes." says Marie Zerkov.tch This was, no doubt, the normal experience of SlL who met Sophy first in moments of repose or "'stT/is"; "go off." Pharos makes his passes and goeVthrough t:.e rest of his performance. ..1 feel nothing at ail-not .^ven sleepy, said "'"ott on. Lord help you!" came testily frorr, T .dv Meg Had Pharos been veritably her idol Ijif would have kicked him into grantmg her V^^y^^' , . ^^ her will— she won't be as a five-franc piece, ii 5* j^ , ., J 1- «f fVie room. Jl-ook *t «'"»*'■ througii iQc iisift. -ji »*' 66 ■'^^ PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. tiently, El little IT. On e mark lightest Dked at kovitch. 2nce of ipose or s passes ice. y," said sieur 1 " dy Meg . Down prophet's ngs, and energetic ,tily from her idol, iting her won't be L perverse arge again te sparkles t at that! think of nothing else ! " he Look hard — and commanded. Silence fell on the room. Quick breaths came from eager Lady Meg ; otherwise all was still. "It's working!" whispered the wizard. "The power is working." Silence again. Then a sudden overpowering peal of laughter from the medium— hearty, rippling, irrepressible, and irresistible. "Oh, Lady Meg, I feel such a fool— oh, such a fool!" she cried, and her laughter mastered her again. Irresistible ! Marie Zerkovitch joined in Casimir's hearty mirth, Mantis' shrill cackle and the sniggers of the dowagers swelled the chorus. Casimir sprang up and turned up the gas, laughing still. The wizard stood scowling savagely ; Lady Meg glared malignantly at her ill-chosen medium and dis- appointing protegee. "What's the reason for it, Lord help you?" she snarled, with a very nasty look at Pharos. He saw the danger. His influence was threatened, his patroness's belief in him shaken. ^^ " I don't know," he answer i in apparent humility. I can't account for it. It happens, so far as I know, only in one case-and heaven forbid that I should suggest that of Mademoiselle." "What is the case? ' snapped Lady Meg, by no means pacified-in fact, still dangerously sceptical. Pharos made an answir. jr^ivet anH c^rU,,. ;» ^7 ism i I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. tone, in purpose and effect malignantly nonsensical : '°Whn the person whom it is sought to subjec to this particular influence" (he touched the pocke where his precious disc now lay) "has the Ev.1 ^ An appeal to a superstition old as the hills and widespread as the human race-would rt ever f^lto It some mark in a company of a dozen ? Ca=.""' laughed in hearty contempt, Sophy laughed m mlch evous mockery. But two of the dowagers Crossed themselves. Lady Meg started and glowered and little Marie Zerkovitch marked, ^f^^ed fnd remembered. Her mind was apt soil for seed of *Th"1n five years- time, five years in gaol awaited the ing;nious Monsieur Pharos occasions a consolmg reflection. 68 & CHAPTER II. THE LORD OF YOUTH. SO P H Y'S enemies were at work— and Sophy was careless. Such is the history of the next twelve months. Mantis was installed medium now— and the revelations came. But they came slow, vague, fitful, tantalising. Something was wrong, Pharos confessed ruefully— what could it be ? For surely Lady Meg by her faith (and, it may be added, her liberality) deserved well of the Unseen Powers? He hinted at that Evil Eye again, but without express accusation. Under '* the influence " Mantis would speak of "the malign one"; but Mantis, when awake, thought Mile, de Gruche a charming young lady ! It was odd and mysterious. Pharos could make nothing of it; he, too, thought Made- moiselle Sophie — he advanced to that pleasant mb.raality of description— quite ravishing and sMirely devoted to Lady Meg, only, unhappily, so trcesponsive to the Unseen— a trifle unsympathetic, It might be. But what would you? The young had no need to think of death or the dead. Was it to be expected, then, that Mademoir^olle Sonhi^ bg r SOPHY OF KRA.VONIA. would be a good subject, or take much interest in the work, great and wonderful though it might be ? The pair of rogues did their work well and quietly-so quietly that nothing of it would be known were it not that they quarrelled later on over the spoil of this and other transactions, and Mantis, in the witness-box at Lille, used her memory and her tongue freely. " The plan now was to get rid of the young lady," she said plainly. " Pharos feared her power over my lady, and that my lady might leave her all the money. Pharos hated the young lady because she would have nothing to say to him, and told him plainly that she thought him a charlatan. She had courage, yes! But if she would have joined in with him— why, then into the streets with me ! I knew that well enough, and Pharos knew I knew it. So I hated her too, fearing that some day she and he would make up their differences, and I — that for me! Yes, that was how we were, M. le President." Her lucid exposition elicited a polite compliment from M. le President— and we also are obliged to her. But Sophy was heedless. She showed afterwards that she could fight well for what she loved well, and that with her an eager heart made a strong hand. Her heart was not in this fight. The revelation of mad Lady Meg's true motive for taking her up may well have damped a gratitude otherwise oecoming in Sophy Grouch transmuted to Sophie de Gruche. Yet the gratitude remained; she fought for Lady 70 THE LORD OF YOUTH. Meg— for her sanity and some return of sanity in her proceedings. In so fighting she fought against herself-for Lady Meg was very mad now. For herself she did not fight; her heart and her thoughts were elsewhere. The schemes in the Rue de Crenelle occupied her hardly more than the clash of principles, the efforts of a falling dynasty, the struggles of rising freedom, the stir and seething of the great city and the critical times in which she lived. For she was young, and the Lord of Youth had come to visit her in his shower of golden promise. The days were marked for her no more by the fewnmg advances or the spiteful insinuations of Pharos than by the heroics of an uneasy emperor or the mgenious experiments in reconciling con- tradictions wherein his ministers were engaged. For her the days lived or lived not as she met or failed to meet Casimir de Savres. It was the season of her first love. Yet, with all its joy, the shadow of doubt ,s over it. It seems not perfect ; the delight IS m receiving, not in giving; his letters to her, full of remmiscences of their meetings and talks, are shaded with doubt and eloquent of insecurity. She was no more than a girl m years; but in some ways her mind was precociously developed-her ambition was spreading its still growing wings. Casimir's constant tone of defcrence-almost of adulation- marks in part the man, in part the convention in which he had been bred; but it marks, too, the 71 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA :f:!. I ii! suppliant : to the last he is the wooer, not the lover, and at the end of his ecstasy lies the risk of despair. For her part she often speaks of him afterwards, and always with the tenderest affection ; she never ceased to carry with her wherever she went the bundle of his letters, tied with a scrap of ribbon and inscribed with a date. But there is one reference, worthy of note, to her innermost sentiments towards him, to the true state of her heart as she came to realise it by and by. " 1 loved him, but I hadn't grown into my feehngs," she says. Brief and almost accidental as the utterance is, it is full of signifi- cance; but its light is thrown back. It is the statement of how she came to know she had been towards him, not of how in those happy days she seemed to herself to be. ' ,, u He knew about Grouch ; he had been told by a copious superfluity of female friendliness-by Lady Meg, cloaking suspicious malignity under specious penitence ; by Mantis with impertinent and intrusive archness; by Marie Zerkovitch in the sheer im- possibility of containing within herself any secret which had the bad fortune to be entrusted to her. Sophy's own confession, made with incredible diffi- culty—she hated the name so— fell flat and was greeted with a laugh of mockery. It happened at the Calvaire at Fontainebleau, whither they had made a day's and night's excursion, under the escort of Marie Zerkovitch and a student friend ot hers irom tne v^uuiuSi i-atixx. x»^w~ i-- 72 THE LORD OF YOUTH. ! lover, iespair. ■wards, ; never ;nt the ion and "erence, owards ame to hadn't almost signifi- is the id been ays she Id by a )y Lady specious ntrusive leer im- y secret I to her. ble diffi- and was inebleau, xcursion, I student they had left behind sipping beer at a restaurant facing the chateau. On the eminence which com- mands the white little town dropped amidst the old forest, over against the red roofs of the palace vying in richness with the turning leaves, in sight of a view in its own kind unsurpassed, in its own charm unequalled, Sophy broke the brutal truth which was to end the infatuation of the head of a house old as St. Louis. "It's bad to pronounce, is it?" asked Casimir, smiling and touching her hand. "Ah, well, good or bad, I couldn't pronounce it, so to me it is nothing." " They 'd all say it was terrible — a mesalliance.'* " I fear only one voice on earth saying that." "And the fraud I am— de Gruche! " She caught his hand tightly. Never before had it occurred to her to defend or to excuse the transparent fiction. "I know stars fall," he said, with his pretty gravity, not too grave. " I wish that they may rise to their own height again— and I rise with them." The sun sank behind the hoi:i2on. A gentle after-glow of salmon-pink rested over the palace and city; the forest turned to a frame of smoky brownish black. Casimir waved a hand towards it and laughed merrily. "Before we were, it was— after we are, it shall be! I sound as old as Scripture! It has seen old masters — and great mistresses! Saving the !l SOPHY OF KR AVON I A. •0 I i a; ,ai :.: m\ I, " De la Valliere ? " she laughed. " Or Maintenon ? " " For good or evil, neither ! Do I hurt you ? " "No; you make me think, though," answered Sophy. "Why?" "They niggled — at virtue or at vice. You don't niggle ! Neither did Montespan nor Pompadour." "And so I am to be— Marquise dc ? " " Higher, higher! " he laughed. " ! f adame la Mar6- chale ! " "It is war, then — soon — you think?" She turned to him with a sudden tension. He pointed a Frenchman's eloquent forefinger to the dark mass of the chateau, whose chimneys rose DOW Uke gloomy interrogation marks to an unre- sponsive darkened sky. "He is there now— the Emperor! Perhaps he walks in his garden by the round pond— thinking, dreaming, balancing." " Throwing balls in the air, as conjurers do ? " " Yes, my star." "And if he misses the first?" "He'll seek applause by the second. And the second, I think, would be war." "And you would — go?" "To what other end do I love the lady of the Red Star— alas, I can't see it!— save to bring her glory ? " "That's French," said Sophy with a laugh. " Wouldn't you rather stay with me and be happy ? " " Who speaks to me ? " he cried, springing to his feet. " Not you ! " 74 THE LORD OF YOUTH. " No, no," she answered, •* I have no fear. What is it, Casimir, that drives us on ? " " Dri^'es us on ! You ! You too ? " " It 's not a woman's p is it ? " He caught her round waist, and she allowed his clasp. But she grew grave, yet smiled again softly. " If all life were an evening at Fontalnebleau — a fine evening at Fontalnebleau ! " she murmured in the low clearness which marked her voice. "Mightn't it be?" " With war ? And with what drives us on ? " He sighed, and his sigh puzzled her. " Oh, well," she cried, " at least you know I 'm Sophy Grouch, and my father was as mean as the man who opens your lodge-gate." The sky had gone a blue-black. A single star sombrely announced the coming pageant. "And his daughter high as the hopes that beckon me to my career ! " "You've a wonderful way of talking," smiled Sophy Grouch — simple Essex in contact with Paris at that instant. "You'll be my wife, Sophie?" " I don't think Lady Meg will keep me long. Pharos is working hard — so Marie Zerkovitch declares. I should bring you a dot of two thousand five hundred francs ! " "Do you love me?" The old question rang clear in the still air. Who 75 ■,%. ^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. O ^ "w 1.0 I.I 1^ £ lit us I4£ 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ ^ 6" - ► . tnc Scifflices Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 \ V €4 '\ \\ % V o'^ c^ ^^'o- m K II :■ SOrilY OF KRAVONIA. has not heard it of women — or uttered it of men ? Often so easy, sometimes so hard. When all is right save one thing— or when all is wrong save one thing — then it is bard to answer, and may have been hard to ask. With Casimir there was no doubt, save the doubt of the answer. Sophy stood poised on a hesitation. The present seemed perfect. Only an unknown future cried to her through the falling night. "I'll win glory for you," he cried. "The Emperor will fight ! " " You 're no Emperor's man ! " she mocked. " Yes, while he means France. I 'm for anybody who means France." For a moment serious, the next he kissed her hand merrily. " Or for anybody who'll give me a wreath, a medal, a toy to bring home to her I love." " You 're very fascinating," Sophy confessed. It was not the word. Casimir fell from his exalta- tion. " It 's not love, that of yours," said he. "No— I don't know. You might make it love. Oh, how I talk beyond my rights ! " " Beyond your rights ? Impossible ! May I go on trying ? " He saw Sophy's smile dimly through the gloom. From it he glanced to the dying gleam of the white bouses dropped among the trees, to the dull mass of the ancient home of history and kings. But back he came to the living, elusive, half-seen smile. " Can you stop ? " said Sophy. 76 ? THE LORD OF YOUTH. t of men ? hen all is \ save one have been oubt, save jised on a Only an he fallinfT , " The •eked. ■ anybody rious, the r anybody to bring ised. lis exalta- he. 2 it love. »iay I go le gloom, the white 11 mass of But back le. He raised his hat from his head and stooped to kiss her hand. " Nor would nor could," said he—" in the warmth of life or the cold hour of death ! " "No, no— if you die, it's gloriously!" The hour carried her away. "Casimir, I wish I were sure ! " The spirit of his race filled his reply : " You want to be dull ? " " No~I— I— I want you to kiss my cheek." " May I salute the star ? " "But it's no promise!" "It's better!" " My dear, I— I'm very fond of you." "That 'sail?" "Enough for to-night? What's he thinking of down there?" "The Emperor? I'm not so much as sure he's there, really. Somebody said he had started for St. Cloud this morning." "Pretend he's there!" " Then of anything except how many men die for what he wants." " Or of how many women weep ? " Her reply set a new light to his passion. " You'd weep?" he cried. "Oh, I suppose so!" The answer was half a laugh, half a sob. " But not too much ! No more than the slightest dimness to the glowing star ! " 77 II ,»!: Si i (! i FOPHY Oi=- KRAVONIA. Sophy laughed in a tremulous key; her body shook. She laid her hands in his. " No more, no more. Surely Marie and the student are bored ? Isn't it supper-time ? Oh, Casimir, if I were worthy, if I were sure! What's ahead of us? Must we go back ? To-night, up here, it all seems so simple ! Does he mean war ? He down there ? And you 'il fight ! " She looked at him for an instant. He was close to her. She thrust him away from her. " Don't fight thinking of me," she said. " How otherwise ? " he asked. She tossed her head impatiently. " I don't know — but — but Pharos makes me afraid. He — he says that things I love die." The young soldier laughed. "That leaves him pretty safe," said he. She put her arm through , and they walked down. It had been a night to be forgotten only when all is. Yet she v/cnt from him unpledged, and tossed in her bed, asking : " Shall I ? " and answered: "I'll decide to-morrow!" But to-morrow was not at the Calvaire nor in the seducing sweetness of the silent trees. When she rose, he was gone — anl the student too. Marie Zerkovitch, inquisitively friendly, flung a fly for news. "He's as fine a gentleman as Lord Dunstanbury ! " cried Sophy Grouch. " As who ? " asked Marie. Sophy smiled over her smoking coffee. "As the 78 III llil! 4'A THE LORD OF YOUTH. [y shook. 10 more. > Isn't worthy, lust we simple ! 1 you 'il It. He y from lid. man who first saw me," she said. "But, oh, I'm puzzled 1 " Marie Zerkovitch bit her roll. "Armand was charming," she observed. The student was Armand. He too, let it be recorded, had made a little love, yet in all seemly ardour. So ends this glimpse of the happy days. know — ays that ves him walked en only pledged, ? " and r in the hen she Marie fly for ibury!" *As the 79 til CHAPTER III. THE NOTE — AND NO REASONS. i ;ii III THAT feverish month of July — fitting climax to the scorching arid summer of 1870 — had run full half its course. Madness had stricken the rulers of France — to avoid danger they rushed on destruction. Gay madness spread through the veins of Paris. Perverse always, Lady Meg Duddington chose this moment for coming back to her senses — or at least for abandoning the particular form of insanity to which she had devoted the last five years. One afternoon she called her witch and her wizard. " You're a pair of quacks, and I've been an old fool," she said composedly, sitting straight up in her high- backed chair. She flung a couple of thousand-franc notes across the table. "You can go," she ended with contemptuous brevity. Mantis' evil temper broke out : " She has done this, the malign one ! " Pharos was wiser; he had not done badly out of Lady Meg, and madness such as hers is apt to be recurrent. His farev/ell was gentle, his exit not ungraceful : yet he too prayed her to beware of a certain influence. " Stuff ! You don't know what 80 TFin NOTE— AND NO REASONS. you're talking about ! " Lady Meg jerked out, and pointed with her finger to the door. " So we wt it out, and to avoid any trouble we left Paris the sam.' day. But this man here would not give me any of the money, though I had done as much to earn it as he had, or more." So injured Mantis told M. le President at Lille. Early on the morning of Sunday the seventeenth, having received word through Lady Meg's maid that her presence was not commanded in the Rue de Crenelle, Sophy slipped round to the Rue du Bac and broke in on Marie Zerkovitch, radiant with her great news and imploring her friend to celebrate it by a day in the country. " It means that dear old Lady Meg will be what she used to be to me ! " she cried. " We shall go back to England, I expect, and— I wonder what that will be like I " Her face grew suddenly thoughtful. Back to England I How would that suit Sophie de Gruche ? And what was to happen about Casiniir de Savres ? The period of her long sweet indecision was threat- ened with a forced conclusion. Marie Zerkovitch was preoccupied against both her friend's joy and her friend's perplexity. Great affairs touched her at home. There would be war, she said, certainly war; to-day the Senate went to St. Cloud to see the Emperor. Zerkovitch had started thither already, on the track of news. The news in the near future would certainly be war, Si SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. r. I*. ; fi'- ! 8' *i: and Zerkovitch would follow the armies, still on the track of news. " He went before, in the war of '66," she said, her lips trembling. "And he all but died of fever; that kills the correspondents just as much as the soldiers. Ah, it 's so dangerous, Sophie — and so terrible to be left behind alone. I don't know what I shall do ! My husband wants me to go home. He doesn't believe the French will win, and he fears trouble for those who stay here." She looked at last at Sophy's clouded face. "Ah, and your Casimir — he will be at the front 1 " "Yes, Casimir will be at the front," said Sophy, a ring of excitement hardly suppressed in her voice. " If he should be killed ! " murmured Marie, throwing her arms out in a gesture of lamentation. " You bird of ill omen ! He '11 come back covered with glory." The two spent a quiet day together, Sophy helping Marie in her homely tasks. Zerkovitch's campaign- ing kit was overhauled — none knew how soon orders for an advance might come — his buttons put on, his thick stockings darned. The hours slipped away in work and talk. At six o'clock they went out and dined at a small restaurant hard by. Things seemed very quiet there. The fat waiter told them with a shrug : " We shan't have much noise here to-night— the lads will be over there ! " He pointed across the river. "They'll be ever there most of it TIIi; XOTE-AND NO RKASONS. Still on Lhe war fVnd he ondents igerous, I alone, d wants French ho stay clouded ; at the Sophy, in her Marie, ntation. covered helping mpaign- n orders put on, slipped ey went Things •Id them ise here pointed most of the night— on the grands boulevards. Because it's war, madame. Oh, yes, it's war!" The two young women sipped their coffee in silence. " As a lad I saw 1830. I was out in the streets in 1851. What shall I see next ? " he asked them, as he swept his napkin over the marble table-top. If he stayed at his post, he saw many strange things; unnatural fires lit his skies, and before his doors brother shed brother's blood. The friends parted at half-past seven. Marie hoped her husband would be returning home soon, and with news ; Sophy felt herself due in the Rue de Crenelle. She reached the house there a little before eight. The concierge was not in his room; she went upstairs unseen, and passed into the drawing-room. The inner door leading to the room Lady Meg occupied stood open. Sophv called softly, but there was no answer. She walk. , towards the door and was about to look into the room, thinking that perhaps Lady Meg was asleep, when she heard herself addressed. The Frenchwoman who acted as their cook had come in and stood now on the threshold with a puzzled distressed look on her l.xe. " I 'm sorry. Mademoiselle Sophie, to tell you, but my lady has gone." "Gone! Where to?" "To England, I Relieve. This morning, after you had gone out, she ordered everything to be packed. It was done. She paid us here off, bidding me alone Nl t>- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. stay till orders reached me from Monsieur le Marquis. Then she went; only the coachman accompanied her. I think she started for Calais. At least, ohe is gone." " She said — said nothing about me ? " •* You '11 see there 's a letter for you on the small table in the window there." "Oh, yes! Thank you." "Your room is ready for you to-night." ** I 've dined. I shall want nothing. Good- night." Sophy walked over to the little table in the window, and for a few moments stood looking ^t the envelope which lay there, addressed to her in Lady Meg's sprawling hand. The stately room in the Rue de Crenelle seemed filled with a picture which its walls had never seen ; old words re-echoed in Sophy's ears : "If I want you to go, I '11 put a hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you — upon which you '11 go, and no reasons given I Is it agreed ? " As if from a long way off, she heard a servant-giil answer : ** It sounds all right." She saw the old elm trees at Morpingham, and heard the wind murmur in their boughs ; Pindar chuckled, and Julia Robins' eyes were wet with tears. " And no reasons given ! " It had sounded all right — before live years of intimacy and a life transformed. It sounded different now. Yet the agreement had been made between tht strange lady and the eager girl. Nor were reasons hard to find. 'I ':? 84 THE NOTE-AN'D NO REASONS. Marquis. Dmpanied east, ihe the small Good- » in the joking at to her in room in a picture re-echoed [ '11 put a end it to ns given I she heard ht." She md heard chuckled, ,rs. unded all id a Hfe Yet the ange lady d to find. They stood out brutally plain. Having sent her prophet to the right-about, Lacy Meg wanted no more of her medium — her most disappointing medium. "They" would not speak through Sophy; perhaps Lady Meg did not now want them to speak at all. Sophy tore the envelope right across its breadth and shook out the flimsy paper within. It was folded in four. She did not trouble to open it. Lady Meg was a woman of her word, and here was the hundred- pound note of the Bank of England — " upon which you '11 go, and no reasons given ! " With a bitter smile she noticed that the note was soiled, the foldings old, the edges black where they were exposed. She had no doubt that all these years Lady Meg had carried it about, so as to be ready for the literal fulfilment of her bond. " Upon which," said Sophy, " I go." The bitt' ; 3mile lasted perhaps a minute more; then the git; flung herself into a chair in a fit of tears as bitter. She had served — or failed to serve — Lady Meg's mad purpose, and she was flung aside. Very likely she had grown hateful— she, the witness of insane whims now past and out of favour. The dismissal might not be unnatural; but, for all their bargain, the manner was inhuman. They had lived and eaten and drunk together for so long. Had there been no touch of affection, no softening of the heart ? It seemed not, it seemed not. Sophy wept and wondered. "Oh, that I had never left you. m 85 SUl'HY OF KRAVOMA. i ! 'I 1 I ,r I \ I U f~ 1^ •N: Julia!" she cries in her letter, an.l no doubt cried now; for Julia had given her a fiijnd's love. If Lady Meg had given her only \vhat one spares for a dog — a kind word before he is banished, a friendly lament at parting! Suddenly through the window came a boy's shrill voice : " Vive la guerre / " Sophy sprang to her feet, caught up the dirty note, ond thrust it inside her glove. Without delay, seemingly without hesitation, she left the house, passed swiftly along the street, and made for the Pont Royal. She was bound for the other bank and for the Boulevard des Italiens, where Casimir de Savres had his lodging. The stream of traffic set with her. She heeded it not. The streets were full of excited groups, but there was no great tumult yet. Men were eagerly reading the latest editions of the papers. Sophy pushed on till she reached Casimir's house. She was known there. Her coming caused surprise to the concierge— it was not the proper thing; but he made no difficulty. He showed her to Casimir's sitting-room, but of Casimir he could give no information, save that he presumed he would return to sleep. " I must wait— I must see him," she said ; and, as the man left her, she went to the window, flung it open wide, and stood there, looking down into the great street. The lights blazed now. Every seat at every cafe was full. The newspapers did a great trade ; a wave 86 ibt cried love. If ires for a friendly ly's shrill irtv note, it delay, e house, ! for the bank and simir de raffic set were full mult yet. IS of the Casimir's g caused )er thing; i her to ould give le would ; and, as f, flung it into the ;very cafe \ : a wave The stream of traffic set with her. I 'ill m n THE NOTE-AND NO REASONS. «5 of infinite talk, infinite chaJT, infinite laughter rose to her ears. A loud-voiced fellow was selling pictures of the King of Prussia— as he looks now, and as he will look ! The second sheet never failed of a great success. Bands of lads came by with flags and war- like shouts. Some cheered them, more laughed and chaffed. One br-^d-faced old man she distinguished m the cafi opposx.e; he looked glum and sulky and kept arguing to his neighbour, wagging a fat fore- finger at him repeatedly; the neighbour shrugged bored shoulders; after all, he had not made the war —It was the Emperor and those gentlemen at St. Cloud ! As she watched, the stir grew greater, the bands of marching students more frequent and noisy. 'M Berlin!'' they cried now, amid the same mixture of applause and tolerant amusement. A party of girls paraded down the middle of the street, singing *'J'aime les militaires!'' The applause grew to thunder as they went by, and the laughter broke into one great crackle when the heroines had passed. She turned away with a start, conscious of a presence in the room. Casimir camn quickly across to her, throwing his helmet on the table as he passed He took her hands. " I know. Lady Meg wrote to me," he said. "And you are here!" " I have no other home now," she said. With a light of joy in his eyes he kissed her lips. " I come to you only when I 'm in trouble ' " she said softly. 87 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. f *' It is well," he answered, and drew her with him back to the window. Together they stood looking down. ** It is war, then ? " she asked. "Without doubt it's war, without doubt," he answered gravely. " And beyond that no man knows anything." "And you?" she asked. He took her hands again, both of hers in his. " My lady of the Red Star ! " he murmured softly. " And you ? " "You wouldn't have it otherwise?" " Heaven forbid ! God go with you as my heart goes! When do you go?" " I take the road in an hour for Strasburg. We are to be of MacMahon's corps." " In an hour ? " "Yes." "Your preparations — are they made?" "Yes." " And you are free ? " "Yes." " Then you 've an hour to make me sure I love you ! " He answered as to a woman of his own stock. "I have an hour now — and all the campaign,' said he. 83 vith him ibt," he n knows in his. loftly. ay heart rg. We e I love stock, npaign/ CHAPTER IV. THE PICTURE AND THE STAR. THE letter which gives Julia Robins the history of that Sunday— so eventful alike for France and for Sophy— is the last word of hers from Paris. Julia attached importance to it, perhaps for its romantic flavour, perhaps because she fancied that danger threatened her friend. At any rate she bestowed it with the care she gave to the later letters, and did not expose it to the hazards which destroyed most of its predecessors. It is dated from Marie Zerkovitch's apartment in the Rue du Bac, and it ends — "I shall stay here, whatever happens— unless Casimir tells me to meet him in Berlin ! " The rash comprehensiveness of "whatever hap- pens " was not for times like those, when neither man nor nation knew what fate an hour held; but for three weeks more she abode with Marie zerkovitch. Marie was much disturbed in her mind. Zerkovitch had begun to send her ominous letters from the front-or as near thereto as he could get; the burden of them was that things 89 % SOPHY OK KRAVONIA. looked bad lor (lir l'>cncli, and that her liold on Paris sht)uld ho a loose ono. He iirp^cd her to go honio, whtMc lie would join her — for a visit at all events, vmy likely to stay. Marie bcp;an to talk of j^oinp; hom;^ in a week or so; hut she lingered on for the sake of heiiif; nearer the news of the war. S(\ amid the rumours of unreal victories and the tidings of reverses only too real, if not yet great, the two women waited. Casimir had found time and opportunity to send Sophy some half-dozen notes (assuming she pre- served all she received). On the 5th of August, the eve of Worth, he wrote at somewhat greater length — # ' S S • " It is night. I am off duty for an hour. I have been in the saddle full twelve hours, and I believe that, except the sentries and the outposts, I am the only man awake. We need to sleep. The Red Star, which shines everywhere for me, shines for all of us over our bivouac to-night. It must be that we fight to-morrow. Fritz is in front of us, and to-morrow he will come on. The Marshal must stop him and spoil his game ; if we don't go forward now, we must go back. And we don't mean going back. It will be the lirst big clash — and a big one, I think, it will be. Our fellows are in fine heart ([ wish their boots were as good !), but those devils over there — well they can fight too, and Fritz can get every ounce out of them. I am thinking of glory and c, I'm linrdly rorry for it. Jt seems sweet to have somolliing left (o do. Ah, but you're hard, aren't you? Shrdl I ever ho sure of you? Even though I march into Berlin at the head of a regiment I "I can say little more— the orderly waits for my letter. Yet I have so much, mucii more to sny. All comes back to me in vivid snatches. I am witli you in the old house—or by the Calvairc (you remember?); or again by the window; or while we walked back that Sunday night. I hear your voice— the low full-charged voice. I see your eyes; the Star glows anew for me. Adieu ! I live for you always so long as I live. If I die, it will bo in the thought of you, and they will kill no prouder man than Sophie's lover. To have won your love (ah, by to-morrow night, yes!) and to die for France— would it be ill done for a short life ? I',v my faith, no I I '11 make my bow to my anrestor's without shame. ' I too have done my part, mes- sieurs ! ' say I, as I sit down with my forefathers Sophie, adieu! You won't forget? I don't think you can quite forget. Your picture rides with me your star shines ahead. " CASr.flR." He le was not wrong. They fought next d?-. The letter is endorsed "Sin August," presumably the date of Its receipt. That day came also the news 91 i I ROrilY or KKAVONIA f^f the iliststor. On the nth the casually list revealed Casimir do Savrcs' name. A few lines from a brother olTicer a day later gave scanty details. In the great charge of French cavalry which marked tlic closing stages of the battle he had been the first man hit of all his regiment— shot through the heart— and through the picture of Sophy which lay over his heart. No word comes from Sophy herself. And Marie ^crkovitch is bridf. " She showed mc the picture. The bullet passed exactly through where that mark on her cheek is. It was fearful ; I shuddered ; I hoped she didn't see. She seemed quite stunned. But she insisted on coming with me to Kravonia, where I had now determined to go at once. I did not want her to come. I thought no good would come of it. But what could I do? She would not return to England; she could not stay alone in Paris. I was the only friend she had in the world. She asked no more than to travel with me. ' When once I am there, I can look after myself,' she said." The pair— a little fragment of a great throng, escaping or thrust forth— left Paris together, on the 13th or 14th of August, en route for Kravonia. \yith Sophy went the bullet-pierced picture and the little bundle of letters. She did not forget. With a sore wound in her heart, she turned to face a future dark, uncertain, empty of all she had loved. And— had she seen Marie Zerkovitch's shudder? Did she 92 TIIK PICTURE AND TIIK STAR. ly list }s from Is. In TiJirkecl he first icart — ,y over Marie passed icek is. n't see. ted on id now her to t. But ngland ; tie only o more there, I remember n/rain, ns she had remembered by the Calvam at Fontaii.chlcau, how Pliaros had said th.U what she loved died? She had bidden Casiniir iu.l fight thinking? of her. Thinking of her. he had fought and died. Ml she ever wrote about her departure is one sentence. " I went to Kravonia in sheer despair of the old life : I had to have some- thing new." Stricken she went forth from the stricken city where hundreds of men were cutting down t!ie trees beneath whose shade she had often walked and ridden with hrr lf)ver. throng, on the With he little h a sore I future And— Did she 93 ? -i~iSS^mti%:-: ■"-I ill h!^ f I'l t4 fl i ii "1 PART III. KRAVONIA. CHAPTER I. THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING. 7^H E ancient city of Slavna, for a thousand years or more and under many dynasties the capital _ ot ^ravonia, IS an island set in a plain. It lies in the broad valley of the Krath, which at this point flows due east. Immediately above the city the river divides into two branches, known as the North and Soutn Rivers; Slavna is clasped in the embrace of these channels. Conditioned by their course, its form IS not circular, but pear-shaped, for they bend out in gradual broad curves to their greatest distance trom one another, re-approaching quickly after that point IS passed till they meet again at the end-or rather, what was originally the end-of the city to the east; the single reunited river may stand for the stalk of the pear. In old days the position was a strong one; nowa- days It is obviously much less defensible ; and those in power had recognised this fact in two ways-first by allocating money for a new and scientific system of fortifications; secondly by destroying almost entirely the ancient and ouc-of-date walls which had once been the protaetion of the city. P^rt of the VJ liii SOniY or ICRAVONIA. If! wall on the north side indeed still stood, but where it had escaped ruin it was encumlicrcd and built over with warehouses and wharves; for the North River is the channel of commerce and the medium of trade with the country round about. To the south the wall has been entirely demolished, its site being occupied by a boulevard, on to which faces a line of handsome modern residences — for as the North River is for trade, so the South is for pleasure — and this boulevard has been carried across the stream and on beyond the old limits of the city, and runs for a mile or farther on the right bank of the re- united Krath, forming a delightful and well-shaded promenade where the citizens are accustomed to take their various forms of exercise. Opposite to it, on the left bank, lies the park attached to the Palace. That building itself, dating from 1820 and regrettably typical of the style of its period, faces the river on the left bank just where the stream takes a broad sweep to the south, giving a rounded margin to the King's pleasure-grounds. Below the Palace there soon comes open country on both banks. The boulevard merges in the main post-road to Volseni, and to the mountains which form the eastern frontier of the kingdom. At this date, and for a considerable number of years after- wards, the only railway line in Kravonia did not follow the course of the Krath (which itself afforded facilities for traffic and intercourse), but ran down from the north, having its terminus on the left bank 96 (■! THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING. ut where milt over th River of trade outh the te being 2S a line le North jre — and 2 stream ind runs f the re- U-shaded omed to the park If, dating ^le of its /here the giving a grounds. country the main IS which At this irs after- did not afforded an down [eft bank of the Nortl. River, whence a carriagcLridge gave access to the city. To vote money is one thing, to raise it another, and to spend it on the designated objects a third Not a stone or a sod of tl,e new forts was yet in place, and Slavna's solitary defence was the ancient castle which stood on the left bank of the river just at the point of bisection, facing the casino and botanical gardens on the opposite bank. Suleiman's Tower, a rehc of Turkish rule, is built on a simple plan-a square curtain, with a bastion at etch corner encloses a massive circular tower. The Rate face,' the North River, and a bridge, which admit' of big raised and lowered, connects this outwork with the north wa 1 of the city, which at this point is in goH preservation. The fort is roomy; two or three hundred men could find quarters there; and although It IS, under modern conditions, of little use against an enemy from without, it occupies a position of considerable strength with regard'to the dty itself I formed at this time the headquarters and residence of the Commandant of the garrison, a post held bv the heir to the throne, the Prince of Slavna ^ In spite of the flatness of the surrounding country the appearance of Slavna is not unpicturesouT Iovr°acfh'*"' °' "''" ''''' "-•"« - "° : ov ing race) have given many tints, soft and bright to the roofs, gables, and walls of the old quartef Tn the north town, over which Suleiman's Towertroods with an antique impressiveness. Behind the pieman 8 07 i ■1 . 1 1 ^' -A H 1 ■ 1 i 1 ,1 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. residences which border on the southern boulevard lie handsome streets of commercial buildings and shops, these last again glowing with diversified and gaudy colours. In the centre of the city, where, but for its bisection, we may imagine the i».rath would have run, a pretty little canal has been made by abstracting water from the river and conducting it through the streets. On either side of this stream a broad road runs. Almost exactly midway through the city the roads broaden and open into the spacious Square of St. Michael, containing the cathedral, the fine old city hall, several good town-houses dating two or three hundred years back, barracks, and the modern but not unsightly Government offices. Through this square and the streets leading to it fiom west and east there now runs an excellent service of electric cars ; but at the date with which we are concerned, a crazy fiacre or a crazier omnibus was the only public means of conveyance. Not a few good private equipages were, however, to be seen, for the Kravonians have been from of old lovers of horses. The city has a pcpub'.\^ border! 'j on a hundred thousand, and, besides being the principal depot and centre of distribution for a rich pastoral and agricultural country, it transacts a respectable export trade in hides and timber. It was possible for a careful man to grow rich in Slavna, even though he -v re not a politician nor a Governm.ent official. 1 wo or three years earlier, an enterprising French- man of the name of Rousseau had determined to 98 r 1 I bouIeTard ildings and irsified and ity, w'lere, the krath been made conducting this stream 'ay through he spacious thedral, the uses dating ks, and the int offices, ading to it n excellent with which ler omnibus ce. Not a , to be seen, Id lovers of leri 'J on a 18 principal ch pastoral respectable ^as possible iven though it official, ing French- :ermined to THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING. .T'^ti^A"''"' ""''^ ^ ^''^"^^^ '"^d^^" hotel and ca/e. Nothing could have consorted better with the views of King Alexis Stefanovitch, and M. Rousseau obtained, on very favourable terms, a large site at the ^outh-east end of the city, just where tlfe No:th a„d South Rivers reunite. Here he built h:s hostelry and named it, pietatis causd, the Hotel de Paris I fine terrace ran along the front of the house, abutting on the boulevard and affording a pleasant vL . o hf royal park and the Palace in the distance on the opposite bank. "^^ sat Sophy, drinking a cup of chocolate. The scene before her, if not quite Hving up t . the ■ng gaily dressed ladies, some officers in sirart uniorms. Other officers rode or walked by; cvU functionaries, journalists, and a straggling line ^ Pah:e'";:f ' '^ ^"^^" *"-" sef .owa'rt. ralace. Awaking from a reverie to mark the u, wonted stir. Sophy saw the leaders of the informal procession crossing the ornamental iron brid« wWch spanned the Krath a quarter of a ml fro' :ht shr'^ff lT^~^f ^^"^^ I' ^"'"'d^ like home I" room over a goldsmith's shoo. whifW^f. LT^' 99 11.1 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. §.' moved to relieve Marie Zerkovitch from a hospitality too burdensome, as Sophy feared, for her existing resources to sustain. The reverie bore breaking; it had been none too pleasant; in it sad memories disputed place with present difficulties. Some third or so remained of Lady Meg's hundred-pound note. Necessity had forced a use of the money at any cost to pride. When all was gone, Sophy would have to depend on what is so often a last and so often a vain refuge — the teaching of French; it was the only subject which she could claim to teach. Verily it was a [)oor prospect; it was better to look at the officers and the ladies than to think of it — aye, better than to think of Casimir and of what lay in the past. "With her strong will she strove to steel herself alike against recollection and against apprehension. The cafS was neany deserted; the hour was too early for the citizens, and Sophy's own chocolate had been merely an excuse to sit down. Yet presently a young officer in a hussar uniform stopped his horse opposite the door, and, giving over the reins to an orderly who attended him, nimbly dismounted. Tall and fair, with a pleasant open face, he wore his finery with a dashing air, and caressed a delicate upturned moustache as he glanced round, choosing his seat. The next moment he advanced towards Sophy; giving her a polite salute, he indicated the little table next to hers. " Mademoiselle permits ? " he asked. " She has, I 100 % THE NAME-DAY OF THE KIx\G. hospitality ir existing 1 none too )lace with mained of jssity had to pride, depend on n refuge — ly subject it was a he officers etter than the past, jrself ahke sion. ir was too colate had )resently a i his horse jins to an ited. Tall I his finery upturned J his seat. Is Sophy; little table I fear, forgotten but I have the honour to be an acquaintance of hers." wl' mT^M''?"''^'.^ ^"P^y- "^^P*^^» Markart? We met at Madame Zerkovitch's." ;* Oh that 's pleasant of you ! " he cried. « I hate being clean forgotten. But I fear you remember me only because I sang so badly > " "^^^^^er me and LTnT^'' ^u'' '^^' ^"" '^'"^ y°" ^-"ted to go and help France, but your General wouldn't let you " esneciallvr f"'''' ^ ^ ^''^ '^"^^^^^^ ^^at-you told r^e ' hT" "J^-^^'^f"-^ Marie Zerkovitch "W^'e's^veS^^^^ '''-' '^^'y lau'Zd^' "It's'tb ""'"'T^''' mademoiselle!" he iaugnea. It s the Kmg's name-day, and we all cm and congratulate him." ^ ^° "Is that it? Are you going ? " ookrrf!r'l, ^°.r<'«'"°'=«"^'s good health!" He She enf £'f T''^'' ,^ '^^ unemba^ssed sm e never nefflertfnl . u ^ ^^^ disdamful, Tcr neglectful ; her pose now was good. XOI S ' 'I ll I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. " What sort of a man is the King ? " she asked. " The King is most emphatically a very good sort of fellow— a very good old fellow. I only wish his son was like him I The Prince is a Tartar. Has he gone by yet ? " "I don't think so. I suppose he'd have an escort, wouldn't he ? I don't know him by sight yet. Does everybody call the King a good feL ow ? " " Some people are so extremely righteous I " pleaded Marjcart ruefully. "And, anyhow, he has reformed now." " Because he 's old ? " "Fifty-nine! Is that so very old? No; I rather attribute it— You 're discreet, I hope? I'm putting my fortunes in your hands— to Madame la Comtesse." "The Countess Ellenburg? Marie has told me something about her." " Ah ! Madame Zerkovitch is a friend of hers ? " "Not intimate, I think. And is the Countess oppressively respectable. Captain Markart ? " "Women in her position always are," said the Captain, with an affected sigh : his round chubby face was wrinkled with merriment. "You see, a morganatic marriage isn't such a well-established institution here as in some other countries. Oh, it's legal enough, no doubt, if it's agreed to on that basis. But the Stefanovitches have in the past often made non-royal marriages— with their own subjects generally. Well, there was nobody Z02 '1 ' she asked, very good sort I only wish 2 is a Tartar. le'd have an him by sight jood feL Dw ? " righteous ! " yhow, he has >Id? No; I hope ? I 'm o Madame la has told me id of hers ? " the Countess :art ? " re," said the Dund chubby "You see, a U-established mtries. Oh, Lgreed to on have in the —with their was nobody la He rode by without turning his head. 103 ^ ''-i"4;"' THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING. else for them to marry I Alexia ^nf his f,.t »-riage-a7ltaltrBo1.1?Th::h •" always respectable, if not very brilHant Tw " us a position, and it couMn'7t, 11 *' ^^™ the second marriag: l^V ,\' L'Z^Z^'oT -well women are ambitious, and sK I "" son who bears the King's narir . f . , ^°""^ old." ^ name—a boy twelve years He looked reflect! velv at h;^ ^■ ■u . Sophy sat in thoughtfuTllenee A ffl ''°°''- and the clatter of hoofs tn a ttr'Alr^'f -rnedC^pt^nttsa^^^^^^^^ briskt to " 3 feat' s:T\T^ ''"■'-'• "-"g thou/h .ore intrJ;^rtS^'= '''"'''" Ma'rfeLr h:;':'"' °' '^'™°'' -*--<' of the individual fL \^PP"'""y ""^nscious rode by withl't" tln° g hTs hL' n ''™"^'^''- «« ■in the direction of tb! c^/'tTLZ 'To%' '''"'' refined profile, with a str»U7 ^^^ ^^'^ » and a pale cheek? there wl IT^f ' '''^" ^''°«' Bourbon side of the Xl ""'' '"^^ "' '"^ lo<,uacro:s and'iXrtof °-" "f ""^^ ">« his seat. "Thev™If!i!- fiT^,""' "" ""^ "-^^nmed German, with'a^! ^'f ^tj" ^™7"nS " Well, it -s his duty," s^d s^^ky. " '""^^ ' " ro3 T SOPHY OF KR AVON I A. \ 4 ;i i f' m ¥ !' ;► jE ! "Somebody who'll keep the Countess in order, eh?" smiled Markart, twirling his moustache. "That's about the size of it, I expect, though naturally the General doesn't show me his hand. I only tell you common gossip." " I think you hardly do yourself justice. You 've been very interesting. Captain Markart." "I tell you what," he said with an engaging candour, "I believe that somehow the General makes me chatter just to the extent he wants me to, and then stops me. x don't know how he does it ; it 's quite unconscious on my part. I seem to say just what I like ! " They laughed together over this puzzle. " You mean General Stenovics ? " asked Sophy. " Yes, General Stenovics. Ah, here he is ! " He sprang up again and made a low bow to Sophy. '* An revoir, mademoiselle. A thousand thanks ! " He saluted her and hurried to the side of the pavement. General Stenovics rode up, with two orderlies behind him. Saluting again, Markart mounted his horse. The General brought his to a stand and waited the necessary moment or two with a good-humoured smile. His eye wandered from the young officer to the presumable cause of his lack of vigilance. Sophy felt the glance rest on her face. In her turn she saw a stout stumpy figure, clad in a rather ugly dark -green uniform, and a heavy olive-tinted face adorned with a bldck moustache and a short stubby beards General 104 THE NAME-DAY OP THE KING. )S in order, moustache, jct, though ! his hand. e. You 've ti engaging 16 General wants me w how he y pait. I e. i Sophy. 5 he is!" ' to Sophy, inks ! " ide of the with two , Markart ght his to nt or two wandered e cause of fiance rest ut stumpy 1 uniform, th a bl^ck General Stenovics, President of the Council of Ministers view. But Sophy returned the regard of hs prominent pale-blue eyes (which sorted oddly with the complexion of his face) with vivid attention The General rode on. Markart following, bu turning m his saddle to salute once more f^d to wave his hand in friendly farewell For the first time since her arrival in Slavna Sophy was conscious of a stir of excitement. Life had been dull and heavy; the mind had enjoyed ittle food save the diet of sad memories, riday she seemed to be brought into sight of living interests again. They were far off, but they w"! there; Markarfs talk had made a link between tiem ,Wtt"' ^^: '"' °" ^°' ^ '°"e while, watching Z junction of the streams and the broad current which flowed onward past the Palace on its long journey to the sea. Then she rose with a sigh; the time drew near for a French lesson. Marie ierkoWtch had already got her two pupils. ^erkovitch When General Stenovics had ridden three or four hundred yards he beckoned his aide-d™ Z the'bXr' ■" '" ^°^^' "'^''"- j-' ---s " Yes, sir, that 's his escort." 103 1 i SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. " Ah, well, we shall just do it ! And who, pray "— the General turned round to his companion— "is that remarkable-looking young woman you've managed to pick up?" Markart told what he knew of Mile, de Gruche ; it was not much. "A friend of the Zerkovitches ? That's good. A nice fellow, Zerkovitch — and his wife's quite charming. And your friend ?" " I can hardly call her that. General." " Tut, tut ! You 're irresistible, I know. Your friend — what did you tell her?" " Nothing, on my honour." The young man coloured and looked a trifle alarmed. But Stenovics' manner was one of friendly amusement. "For an example of your 'nothing,'" he went on, "you told her that the King was an amiable man ? " " Oh, possibly, General." "That the Countess was a little— just a little — too scrupulous ? " " It was nothing, surely, to say that ? " " That we all wanted the Prince to marry ? " " I made only the most general reference to that, sir." " That "—He looked harder at his young friend— " the Prince is not popular with the army ? " " On my honour, no." " Think, think, Markart." 206 THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING. Markart searched his memory; under interrora- f on ,t accused him ; his face grew rueful. '^ I did wish he was more hke his Majesty. I-I did say he was a Tartar." ^ his^own°Ter '!'"'^.'''^ i" ^PP^'^"' '""'^f^^tion at his own perspicacity. But his only comment was • Then your remarkably handsome young friend knows something about us already. You Ve an admirable cicerone to a stranger. Markart." any Lc^etl f"" '™ "°' '"""'''' '''■ '-" *<»"■» tell "Certainly not, Markart. Three bits of gossio and one he don't make up a secret between them Come, we must get along." Markarfs face cleared, but he observed that the General did not tell him which was the lie. This day Sophy began the diary; the first entrv moved fast, and she' t'J^JZ^^^Z TZ revolutions of the wheel. ^ ^ ° *^® X07 IS I CHAPTER II. AT THE GOLDEN LION. IT was the evening of the King's name-day. There was a banquet at the Palace, and the lights in its windows twinkled in sympathetic response to the illuminations which blazed on the public buildings and principal residences of Slavna. Everywhere feasting and revelry filled the night. The restaurant of the Hotel de Paris was crowded, every seat on icS terrace occupied; the old Inn of the Golden Lion, opposite the barracks in the Square of St. Michael, a favourite resort of the officers of the garrison, did a trade no less good ; humbler hostelries were full of private soldiers, and the streets themselves of revellers male and female, military and civil, honest and dishonest, drunk and sober. Slavna had given itself up to a frolic ; for, first, a fete is a fSte, no matter what its origin; secondly. King Alexis was the most popular man in his dominions, though he never did a decent day's work for them ; lastly, there is often no better way to show how much you hate one man than by making a disproportionate fuss about another. It was well understood that by thus honouring King Alexis, its xo8 AT THE GOLDEN LION. Monarch, by thus vociferously and untiringly wishing him the longest of reigns, Slavna was giving a stinging backhander to Prince Sergius, its titular Prince and Commandant. You would see the difference when the Prince's day came round! When General Stenovics pointed from the Palace windows to the lights gleaming across the Krath and congratulated his Royal Highness on the splendid popularity of the reigning House, the Prince's smile may well have been ironical. '• I shall go and see all this merriment for myself at close quarters presently. General," said he. "I think the Commandant had best return to the city to-night as early as the King will allow." "An admirable devotion to duty, sir," answered the General gravely, and without any effort to dissuade the zealous Prince. But even in this gay city there was one spot of gloom, one place where sullen rancour had not been ousted by malicious merriment. The first company of His Majesty's Guards was confined to its barracks in the Square of St. Michael by order of the Com- mandant of Slavna ; this by reason of high military misdemeanours— slackness when on duty, rioting and drunkenness when on leave; nor were the officers any better than the men. " You are men of war in the streets, men of peace in the ranks," said the Commandant to them that morning in issuing his decree. « You shall have a quiet evening to think over your shortcomings." The order was 109 'TT •immmm>«ii«^- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA, i ; H ^ reported to the King; he sighed, smiled, shook his head, said that, after all, discipline must be vindicated, and looked at his son with mingled admiration and pity. Such a faculty for making himself, other people, and things in general uncomfortable ! But, of course, discipline ! The Commandant looked stern, and his father ventured on no opposition or appeal. General Stenovics offered no remonstrance either, although he had good friends in the offending company. "He must do as he likes— so long as he's Commandant," he said to Markart. " May I go and see them and cheer them up a bit, sir, instead of coming with you to the Palace?" asked that good-natured young man. " If his Royal Highness gives you leave, certainly," agreed the General. The Commandant liked Markart. " Yes — and tell them what fools they are," he said with a smile. Markart found the imprisoned officers at wine after their dinner ; the men had resigned themselves to fate and gone to bed. Markart delivered his message with his usual urbane simplicity. Lieu- tenant Rastatz giggled uneasily — he had a high falsetto laugh. Lieutenant Sterkoff frowned pee- vishly. Captain Mistitch rapped out a vicious oath and brought his great fist down on the table. " The evening isn't finishsd yet," he said. " But for this cursed fellow, I should have been dining with Vera at the H6tel de Paris to-night I " no AT THE GOLDEN LION. Whereupon proper condolences were offered to their captain by his subalterns, who, in fact, held him in no small degree of fear. He was a huge fellow, six feet three, and broad as a door ; a great bruiser, and a duellist of fame ; his nickname was Hercules. His florid face was flushed now with hot anger, and he drank his wine in big gulps. "How long are we to stand it?" he growled "Are we schoolgirls ? " " Come, come, it 's only for one evening," pleaded Markart. "One quiet evening won't hurt even Captain Hercules ! " The subalterns backed him with a laugh, but Mistitch would have none of it. He sat glowering and drinking still, not to be soothed and decidedly dangerous. From across the square came the sound of music and singing from the Golden Lion Again Mistitch banged the table. "Listen there!" he said. "That's pleasant hearing while we 're shut up like rats in a trap— and all Slavna laughing at us I " Markart shrugged his shoulders and smoked in silence; to argue with the man was to court a quarrel ; he began to repent of his well-meant visit. Mistitch drained his glass. "But some of us have a bit of spirit left, and so Master Sergius shall see," he went on. He put out a great hand on either side and caught Sterkoff and Kastatz by their wrists. "We're the fellows to show him 1" he cried. zzi aaa'-- 4i#y»;r- '^'^'^"' ^- w^ •wUfi J I '! ill SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Sterkoff seemed no bad choice for such an enter- prise, a wiry active fellow, with a determined, if disagreeable, face, and a nasty squint in his right eye. But Rastatz, with his slim figure, weak mouth, and high laugh, promised no gieat help ; yet in him fear of Mistitch might overcome all other fear. "Yes, we three '11 show him! And now"— he rose to his feet, dragging the pair up with him— "for a song and a bottle at the Golden Lion!" Rastatz gasped, even Sterkoff started. Markart laughed: it could be nothing more than a mad joke. Cashiering was the least punishment which would await the act. "Yes, we three together!" He released them for a moment and caught up his sword and cap. Then he seized Rastatz's wrist again and squeezed it savagely. "Come out of your trap with me, you rat ! " he growled, in savage amusement at the young man's frightened face. Sterkoff gained courage. "I'm with you, Her- cules ! " he cried. " I 'm for to-night — the devil take to-morrow morning ! " "You're all drunk," said Markart in despairing resignation. "We'll be drunker before the night's out," snarled Mistitch. " And if I meet that fellow when I'm drunk, God help him!" He laughed loudly. "Then there might be a chance for young Alexis, after all ! " The words alarmed Markart. Young Count 112 c t z E (I tl li t( AT THE GOLDEN LION. Alexis was the King's son by Countess Ellenburg. A chance for young Alexis! "For heaven's sake, go to bed ! " he implored. Mistitch turned on him. « I don't want to quarrel with anybody in Slavna to-night, unless I meet one man. But you can't stop me, Markart, and you '11 only do mischief by trying. Now, my boys' " They were with him-Sterkoff with a gleam in his squinting eye, Rastatz with a forced uneasy giggle and shaking knees. Mistitch clapped them on the back. "Another bottle apiece and we '11 all be heroes i" he cned. " Markart, you go home to your mammai" Though given in no friendly way, this advice was wise beneath its metaphor. But Markart did not at once obey it. He had no more authority than power to interfere; Mistitch was his senior officer and he had no special orders to act. But he followed the three in a fascinated interest, and with ^nL ?M V^ ""^ ''""' P™°f °f ^'^ fr'^^dom would content the Captain. Out from the barracks the a ms TTJ 1- V"' """'^ ^' *« eate presented arms, but tried to bar their progress. With a guffaw and a mighty push Mistitch sent him spralling ;„^ ^°'"™^»<1»"' ™«s us, you fool!" he cried ~«^7,u ^^^ """^ '" "'^ square. thnl^'J^', '^'"' ™" '°"'^ °^ "-is business ? " bought Markart, as he followed them over the .ttle bridge which spanned the canal, and thenc! to the door of the Golden Li.n. Behind them g "3 iim':iimi;:r,.^siE. s^^p^ftti^-taja-af-jwj nit lih J i:i' k 1 > 1 1^ ■ 1; ■J! H 1 ^' 1: I! ih ' SOrHY OF KRAVONIA. Still he passed the seats on the pavement and entered the great saloon. As Mistitch and his companions came in, three-fourths of the company sprang to their feet and returned the salute of the newcomers ; so strongly military in composition was the company — officers on one side of a six-feet-high glass screen which cut the room in two, sergeants and their inferiors on the other. A moment's silence succeeded the salute. Then a young officer cried: "The King has ■ interfered ? " It did not occur to anybody that the Commandant might have changed his mind and reversed his decree; for good or evil, they knew him too well to think of that. "The King interfered?" Mistitch echoed, In his sonorous, rolling, thick voice. "No; we've inter- fered ourselves, and walked out! Does anyone object ? " He glared a challenge round. There were officers present of superior rank — they drank their beer or wine discreetly. The juniors broke into a ringing cheer ; it was taken up and echoed back from behind the glass screen, to which a hundred faces were in an instant glued, over which, here and there, the head of some soldier more than common tall suddenly projected. "A table here!" cried Mistitch. "And cham- pagne! Quick! Sit down, my boys!" A strange silence followed the impulsive cheers. Men were thinking. Cheers first, thoughts after- wards, was the order in Slavna as in many other 114 AT THE GOLDEN LION. Cities. Now they recognised the nature of this thing, the fateful change from sullen obedience to open defiance. Was it only a drunken frolic-or besides that, was it a summons to each man to choose his side? Choosing his side might well mean staking his life. A girl in a low-necked dress and short petticoats began a song from a raised platform at the end of the room. She was popular, and the song a favourite. Nobody seemed to listen; when she ended, nobody applauded. Mistitch had been whispering with Sterkoff, Rastatz sitting silent tugging his slender fair moustache. But none of the three had omitted to pay their duty to the bottle, even Rastatz's chalky face bore a patch of red on either cheek. Mistitch rose from h^ chair glass in hand. ' "Long life to the King!" he shouted. "That's loyal, isn't It ? Aye, immortal life ! " The cheers broke out again, mingled with laughter A voice cried :; Hard on his heir, Captain Hercules r Aye! Mistitch roared back. -Hard as he is on us, my friend ! " ^ '^ Another burst of cheering-and again that con- science-smitten silence. Markart had found a seat, near the door and a good way from the redoubtable Mistitch and his en in half an hour General Stenovics would be leaving the Palace, and it was meet that hTshould "5 r"" ■•M^wiMmiteiUaS mvimr:: m t &j;4. iMMZ t^^^^^^i'P/yf'^immmtr.'iMMmtmt SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. i i Vi I r r li ! 11 know of all this as soon as possible. Markart made up his mind he would sUp away soon; but still the interest of the scene, the fascination of this prelude— such it seemed to him— held his steps bound. Suddenly a young man of aristocratic appearance rose from a table at the end of the room, where he had been seated in company vvilh a pretty and smartly dressed girl. A graceful gesture excused him to his fair companion, and he threaded his way deftly between the jostling tables to where Mistitch sat. He wore court dress and a decoration. Markart recognised in the young man Baron von Hollbrandt, junior Secretary of the German Lega- tion in Slavna. Hollbrandt bowed to Mistitch, with whom he was acquainted, then bent over the giant's burly back and whispered in his ear. " Take a friend's advice, Captain," he said. " I 've been at the Palace, and I know the Prince had per- mission to withdraw at half-past nine. He was to return to Slavna then— to duty. Come, go back. You've had your spree." "By the Lord, I'm obliged to you!" cried Mistitch. "Lads, we're obliged to Baron von Hollbrandt! Could you tell me the street he means to come by ? Because "—he rose to his feet again— "we'll go and meet him!" Half the hall heard him, and i le speech was soon passed on to any out of hearing. A sparse cheer ii6 >! Ill AT THE GOLDEN LION. ; .if H sputtered here and there, but most were silent. Rastatz gasped again, while Sterlcoff frowned and squmted villainously. Hollbrandt whispered once more then stood erect, shrugged his shoulders bowed, and walked back to his pretty friend. He sat down and squeezed her hand in apology; the ^ u°t '"1° '""«''*" " "O"™' '^'t"- Baron von^ Hollbrandt felt that he at least had done Ws silly, Sterkoff vicous, the giant Mistitch jovially and cruelly reckless, exalted not only by liquor but f^m tl-7ll "V"^ ""' "« P'^J'"'"- S"dde„?y from behmd the g ass screen rose a mighty roar- Long l.ve Mistitch! Down with tyrants ! Lone live Captain Hercules ! " ^ JL ""^'^ k"'/^ "" ''™"- "'='"<='' drained his glass and hurled it on the floor. "Well, who follows me?" he cried nn^f i*"^ T "*""^ *° "'^''' f^=' = 'he other half pulled them down. Contending currents of feeling moJ^r,^ Tl"r^'- " '"^" ^^= '=^a«^= this moment, timid the "next; to one his neighbour gave ^.sed on the point of a great decision. Yet what was It they were deciding? They could not Markart suddenly forgot his caution. He rushed 117 r- i frt^ '■ *"*** > <''• j ii * * ? ' '■'•»"(• ■M i-dMiM ™«*4^ n* . ■*'y?'i?WiMW'- "rtsrt'St.'-Jtav'v «»«■• - SOPHY OF KRAVONIA, "You!" cried Mistitch. "By heaven, what else does your General want ? What else does Matthias Stenovics want ? Tell me that ! " A silence followed — of dread suspense. Men looked at one another in fear and doubt. Was that true which Mistitch said? They felt as ordinary men feel when the edge of the curtain is lifted from before high schemes or on intrigues of the great. " If I should meet the Prince to-night, wouldn't there be news foi' Stenovics?" cried Mistitch with a roar of laughter. If he should meet the Prince! The men at the tables could not make up their minds to that. Mistitch they admired and feared; but they feared the proud Prince too; they had many of them felt the weight of his anger. Those who had stood up sank back in their places. One pot-bellied fellow raised a shout of hysterical laughter round him by rubbing his fat face with a napkin and calling out : " I should like just one minute to think about that meeting, Captain Hercules ! " Markart had shrunk back, but Mistitch hurled a taunt at him and at all the throng. " You 're curs, one and all ! But I '11 put a heart in you yet ! And now " — he burst into a nev/ guffaw-— "my young friends and I are going for a walk. What, aren't the streets of Slavna free to gentlemen ? My friends and I are going for a walk. If we meet anybody on the pavement — well, he must take to the road. We're going for a walk." xi8 • Mi' AT TflE GOr.DEN LION. Amid a dead silence he went out, his two hench- men after him. He and Sterkoff walked firm and true-Rastatz lurched in his gait. A thousand eyes followed their exit, and from five hundred throats went up a long sigh of relief that they were c?one. But what had they gone to do? The company decided that it was just as well for them, whether collectively or as individuals, not to know too much about that Let it be hoped that the cool air out- side would have a sobering effect and send them home to bed ! Yet from behind the glass screen there soon arose again a busy murmur of voices, like trie Hum of a beehive threatened with danger. "A diplomatic career is really full of interest ma chcrer observed Baron von Hollbrandt to his fair companion. <*It would be difficult to see any- thing so dramatic in Berlin ! " ^ His_ friend's pretty blue eyes lit up with an eager intensity, as she took the cigarette from between her lips. Her voice was full of joyful excitement: and the Pnnce-the blood of one or both of them, you II see ! " ' "You too are deliciously Kravonian," said Hollbrandt, with a laugh. Outside, big Mistitch had crossed the canal and come to the corner where the Street of the l^ountain opens on to St. Michael's Square. "What say you to a call at the H6tel de Paris, lads ? " ne said. ««f V. ^•'MM6ag^Mtai«-J^,- ' SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. " Hist ! " Sterkoff whispered. " Do you hear that step— coming up the street there ? " The illuminations burnt still in the Square, and sent a path of light down the narrow street. The three stopped ana turned their heads. Sterkoff pointed. Mistitch looked— and smacked his pon- derous thigh. m M Ml :!ii li' t xao CHAPTER III. THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP. Had di.ected Sophy, l^io Iriltll: "n.ttVhTe?sS;ari/' '"^ ^°"-'" half a mile from herown Lron" T" *\" boulevard (from which theTeer an to th' '°"\'' -d she had long known thTL" „ fold Vou";:!^ German Jews-who lived and carried on thet ^^ narrow street Tn Z- ^ ^ ^^'^ °"* o^er the cra^ flight of a doie„^ ^ndJs^L s C V\' " and thence she sallied out Zll f„ ^' u f°P^^' to her two pupils. ^ *° ^™ ''" '«=^»' zai III ii l|! m I 'ill!' ill 1 ;' i ! ! li SOPHY OF KRAVON'I.V By the winJow she sat on the night of the King's name-day, on a low chair. The heavy figure of a girl carrying a lamp— a specimen of her landlord's superfluous stock — stood unemployed on the window- sill. The room was dark, for the path of light from the illuminations, which made the roadway below white, threw hardly a gleam on to its sombre walls ; but Sophy had no need of a lamp, and every need to save her money. She sat in the gloom, busy in thought, the fresh evening air breathing soft and cool on her brow from the open window. Swift to build on slenderest foundations, avid to pile imagination on imagination till the unsubstantial structure reached the skies, her mind was at work to-night. The life and stir, the heat and tumult, of the city, were fuel to her dreams. Chances and happenings were all about her ; they seemed to lie, like the water for Tantalus, just beyond the reach of her finger-tops; her eyes pierced to the vision of them through the dusky blackness of the ancient room. In response to the confused yet clamorous cry of the life around her, her spirit awoke. Dead were the dear dead; but Sophy was alive. But to be a starving French-mistress at Slavna — was that a chance? Yes, a better than being cook-maid at Morpingham; and even in the kitchen at Morping- ham Fortune had found her and played with her awhile. For such frolics and such favour, however fickle, however hazardous, Sophy Grouch of Mor- pingham was ever ready. Dunstanbury had come to laa ill '(.il THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP. ;vIorpingham-and Lady Meg. Paris had brought ^ea^5£;rrdX:Lhi^-%- Suddenly she raised her head. There was a wild craning of her nfck en"^ , ,ZT ThenT^' Silenrp fell ? . ' ''^"'"S °^ '^e name, ch^r Th! r tf '"l "'"' ='■" =^'>'' ''^^k into her her nor the ch ' * ''T' *^' '''"^^' -«« "»* ^ lier, nor the cheers, nor the shouts A «,« needs Whh r, . u u i "^i^essity and sordid hands-a^ob th,t ''T'^ ^" ^""^ '° '"^=' h« of "ove ? '°'' *t\"'°^°«<' » f™i"« of hfe, of light, mr^oice^a 1"dZtrte^r°'''^^r^''' :;jh«.s clenched, anf^hisirrdat^sl In the street below, Mistitch slapped his thiVh 133 ■ " ' ' * ' " 1 1 * W ttf - t^'i .«_<^ !*!S^!**«««iw-»*«,. SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. IM i|!' i(ri '-Ij! !iii;:ii !v ..Ml If: :^ : right, some twenty yards away and just at the end of the street, she saw the figures of three men. In the middle was one who bulked like a young Falstaff — Falstaff with his paunch not grown ; he was flanked by two lean fellows who looked small beside him. She could not see the faces plainly, since the light from the square was behind them. They seemed to be standing there and looking past the sign of the Silver Cock along the street. A measured military footfall sounded on her left. Turning her head, she saw a young man walking with head bent down and arms behind him. The line of light struck full on him, he was plain to see as by broadest day. He wore a costume strange to her eyes — a black sheepskin cap, a sheepskin tunic, leather breeches, and high unpolished boots — a rough plain dress ; yet a broad red ribbon crossed it, and a star glittered on the breast ; the only weapon was a short curved scimitar. It was the ancient costume of the Bailiff of Volseni, the head of that clan of shepherds who pastured their flocks on the uplands. The Prince of Slavna held the venerable office, and had been to Court in the dress appropriate to it. He had refused to use his carriage, sending his aides-de- camp home in it, and walked now through the streets of the city which he had in charge. It was con- stantly his habit thus to walk; his friends praised his vigilance; his foes reviled his prowling spjang tricks ; of neither blame nor praise did he take heed. Sophy did not know the dress, but the face she 124 THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP. the end of 1. In the Falstaff— IS flanked side him. the light leemed to »n of the I her left. I walking im. The to see as ge to her in tunic, —a rough it, and a )on was a costume t clan of uplands, ffice, and 3 it. He aides-de- le streets was con- 3 praised g spying ike heed, face she knew; it had been but latelv bf^Fnrn h a eyes; she had seen it in t^f flesh th. """T^ the terrace of the H6tel de pfris """"^" '^°" The three came on from hpr n'rri,*^ r . -en hanging back, l^L.T^ Z^,'""'^^^^ were under her window now. The PrinV^ T"^^ few yards awav q aa ^ / "^ ^""ce was but a start h. I 7t^' ^^"^^^"^y he looked up with a start-he had become aware of their approach B„f before he saw them the three had mfuT. With a shrill crv of . ^""^^^^ *° °"e. meaning of thit- IIuav ^""^^^ ^"^^ the the po4. ' Ht'L :,t'^str r- °' not forget where Sterkoff wa"! Mhtitclsttrr" m th( centre of ih^ «« ^^^^s"tcn stood alone barely leaving tL^ £^7.^1 ""^ ""^^ '^l^ side. "^^" *° pass on either . " I wanted a bre'a^tf freS" Sf ' " ■a an easy insolent tone. ''='* ^^'^''^^ "5 nl •4 i; 1| .III ■ '.: B y. ii.'- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. The Prince looked again; he seemed even more disgusted than angry now. He thought Mistitch drunk— more drunk than in truth he was. " Return to barracks at once and report yourself under stringent arrest. I will deal with you to- morrow." "And not to-night, Sergius Stefanovitch ? " At least he was being as good as his word, he was acting up to the vaunts he had thrown out so boldly in the great hall of the Golden Lion. "To-morrow we shall both be cooler." He was almost up to Mistitch now. "Stand out of my way, sir." Mistitch did not budge. "There's room for you to pass by," he said. " I won't hurt you. But the middle of the road belongs to me to-night." His voice seemed to grow clearer with every word ; the critical encounter was sobering him. Yet with sobriety came no diminution of defiance. Doubtless he saw that he was in for the worst now, that forward was the word and retreat impossible. Probably from this moment he did not intend the Prince to pass alive. Well, what he intended was the wish of many; he would not lack shelter, friends, or par- tisans if he dared the desperate venture. Be it said for him that there were few things he did not dare. He dared now, growing sober, to stand by what the fumes of wine had fired his tongue to. For a moment after the big man's taunt the Prince stood motionless. Then he drew his scimitar. It xa6 i even more jht Mistitch VSiS. port yourself ^ith you to- /itch ? " At e was acting joldly in the ." He was out of my >om for you u. But the It." every word ; . Yet with Doubtless ;hat forward obably from nee to pass he wish of ids, or par- Be it said id not dare. )y what the : the Prince :imitar. It ''WSsuiA0im:mm&\'-- i ■, 11 l^^ III Then she turned her eyes down again to watch the mouth of the porch. THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP. looked a poor weak weapon against the sword which sprang in answer from Mistitch's scabbard "A duel between gentlemen ! " the Captain cried. The Pnnce gave a short laugh. h."jT "'ifii ""T "° ""='' P^*^^ ^' *^ court-martial," he sa,d. "Gentlemen don't waylay one another n the streets. Stand aside!" Mistitch laughed, and in an instant the Prince t^ T. i"1^ ^"P^ ^"^'^ ">« "^des meet. ■ !-Mg as death was the fascination for her eves- tZ' l°'J'l ^""- ',°°' ^°' '■'" ^^'^ 'he quick-moving Bu !h "-^f ="" breathing of a mortal combatt Bu she would not look-she tried not even to listen. for a mfn T" u ""1.='"= "^""^ "°' ^^- h" ears for a man she could not hear. She remembered the t'dJw "sh "1'" i" ''^ P""'' ^''"'S"' -<'- ht Z T; ^''%'^T'' "°' =^1 to warn the Prince of vvo^l'/ T 1""' '''"''■ ^ """"^"t °f inattention, vvould cost either combatant his life. She took the man m the porch for her own adversary his undoing for her share in the fight Very cautiously, making no sound, she took the uea,y lamp-the massive bronze figure c! the gir - raised it painfully in both her bands, and poifed it half-way over the window-sill. Then she tufn^ he eyes down again to watch the mouSh of the porch Sch tl, "7= ^' "''^'^ ""^f-^y round guard the Captain's lunges with lightning- quick 137 fill I.; '\ M j^- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. movements of his nimble scimitar. He was trying the old trick they had practised for hundreds of years at Volseni — to follow his parry with an upward- ripping stroke under the adversary's sword, to strike the inner side of his forearm and cut the tendons of the wrist. This trick big Captain Mistitch, a man of the plains, did not know. A jangle — a slither— a bellow of pain, of rage! The Prince had made his stroke, the hillmen of Volseni were justified of their pupil. Mistitch's big sword clattered on the flags. Facing his enemy, with his back to the porch, the Prince crouched motionless on his knee ; but it was death to Mistitch to try to reach the sword with his unmaimed hand. It was Sophy's minute; the message that it had come ran fierce through all her veins. Straining to the weight, she raised the figure in her hands and leant out of the window. Yes, a lean hand with a long knife, a narrow head, a spare long back, crept out of the darkness of the porch — crept silently. The body drew itself together for a fatal spring on the un- conscious Prince, for a fatal thrust. It would be death — and to Mistitch salvation torn from the jaws of ruin. "Surrender yourself. Captain Mistitch," said the Prince. Mistitch's eyes went by his conqueror and saw a shadow on the path beside the poicn. " I surrender, sir," he said. "Then valk before me to the barracks." Mistitch did not turn. " At once, sir ! " 128 THE VIRGIN V/ITII THE LA?,!?. I " Now ! " iMistitch roared. The crouching figure sprang-and with a hideous cry fell stricken on the flags. Just below the neck, full on the spine, had crashed the Virgin with the Lamp Sterkoff lay verv still, save that his fingers scratched the flags. Turning, the Prince sal a bronze figure at his feet, a bronze figure holding a broken lamp Looking up, he saw dimly a woman's wnite face at a window. Then the street was on a sudden full of men Rastatz had burst into the Golden Lion, all undone" nerves, courage, almost senses, gone. He could stammer no more than "They'll fight!" and could «n^''l °,; .^u ^' ^"^ ^""^ °^^ ^^i^h Mistitch- and whom had they gone to meet ? A dozen officers were round him in an instint crying ;^ Where? Where?" He broke into frightened Hollbrandt who made him speak. Forgetting his S'T';^ r"^ ^" ^^^ '"^ ^^^ officer fugh head '4.''%^"^^' ^"' ^''' ' --^-^ to hi beat terroT'^ T. "c'"" ^^^^^^--here ? " Terror beat terror "The Street of the Fountain-by the Silver Cock!" the cur stammered, and fell to hi blubbering again. The dozen officers, and more, were across tne square a Wt before he had finished; Max von the mn, was hot on their heels. t' ^ " For that night all was at an end. Sterk :off was 10 129 .^iiifefif^ .»^'s«a-» SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. picked up, unconscious now. Sullen but never cringing, Mistitch was marched off to the guard- room and the rurgeon's ministrations. Every soldier was ordered to his quarters, the townsfolk slunk off to their homes. The street grew empty, the glare of the illuminations was quenched. But of all this Sophy saw nothing. She had sunk down in her chair by the window and lay there, save for her tumultuous breathing, still as death. The Commandant had no fear and would have his way. He stood alone row in the street, looking from the dark splash of Mistitch's bio )d to the Virgin with her broken lamp, and up to the windov of the Silver Cock, whence had come salvation. I ^ 1 !■ ; i s C30 CHAPTER IV. THE MESSAGE OP THE NIGHT. THE last Of the transparencies died out : the dim and infrequent oiMamps alone lit up the htreet of the Fountain and St. Michael's Pans, whither Max von Hollbrandt and a dozen others had hurried with the news of the evemW'^ great event But here, on the borders of the oM north quarter, all grew still-the Golden Lion emptv the townsmen to their beds, the soldiers to barrackf ful of talk and fears and threats. Yet a light burn 'sti m the round room in the keep of Suleiman's Towe and the Commandant's servant still expected h,= royal master. Peter Vassip, a sturdy son of VoLn had no apprehensions -but he was very sleeo'" "One^mtht^i'^f r^'^ "'^ ""'^ "^ '-'- une might as well be a soldier at oncei" h. grumbled-for the men of the hills d^ not esteem the Regular Army so high as it rated itself. ine Commandant lingered in the Street „f the Fountain. Sergius Stefanovitch wa^ Ta^f t Bourbon, but it was the intellect.a! ha^He had '11 n i'l H 131 fri'^i-'^'^f^frtiiii'^T'X: tMi \ ! »f !■ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. the Strong, concentrated, rather narrow mind of a Bourbon of before the family decadence; on it his training at Vienna had grafted a military precision, perhaps i pedantry, and no little added scorn of what men called liberty and citizens called civil rights. What rights had a man against his country? His country was in his King— and to the Kinjs; the Army was his supreme instrument. So ran his public creed, his statesman's instinct. But beside the Bourbon mother was the Kravopian father, and behind him the lon^' line of mingled and vacillating fortunes which drew descent from Stefan, Lord of Praslok, and famous reivi^r of lowland herds. In that stock the temperament was different: in- dolent to excess sometimes, ardent to madness at others, moderate seldom. When the blood ran hot, it ran a veritable fire in the veins. And for any young man the fight in the fantasti- cally illuminated night, the Virgin with the broken lamp, a near touch of the scythe of death, and a girl's white face at the window ? Behind the Com- mandant's stern wrath— nay, beside— and soon before it— for the moment dazzling his angry eyes —came the bright gleams of romance. He knew who lodged at the sign of the Silver Cock. Marie Zerkovitch was his friend, Zerkovitch his zealous follower. The journalist was back now from the battlefields of France and was writing articles for The Patriot, a leading paper of Slavna. He was deep In the Prince's confidence, and his little 132 THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT. house on the south boulevard often received this distinguished guest. The Prince had been keen to hear rom Zerkovitch of the battles, from Marie of the life ,n Pans; with Marie's tale came the name and what she knew of the story, of Sophie de Gruche! Marie had avoided any opportunity of presenting her to the Prince. Excuse on excuse she made, for his lover.^^ Oh, I shall meet her some day all the LTf; u^^ 'f'"^' laughing; and Marie doubted whether her reluctance-a reluctance to herself fnw^r u u"°* ""'"''^ '^' "^^'^^ ^"flaming an interest which it had meant to balk. Why this strange reluctance? So far it was proved baseless. His first encounter with the Lady of the Red Star- Casimir s poetical sobriquet had passed Marie's lips — nad been supremely fortunate. From the splash of blood to the broken Virdn from the broken Virgin to the open window and the dark room behind, his restless glances sped. Then came swift impulsive decision. He caught up the bronze figure and entered the porch. He knew Meyerstein's shop, and that from it no staircase led o the upper floor. The other door was his mark, tnt^\^ "^ °" ''' '"^'^"^ ^^^ ^^th a cautious touch then more resolutely, the old brass hand with hospitably beckoning finger which ser^^ed for knocker. Then he listened for a footstep on the stairs. If sh^ came not, the venturesome night went ungraced by 133 \ SOPHY OF KKAVONIA. i 1 r ♦ ■; 11^ its crowning adventure. He must kiss the hand that saved him before he slept. The door opened softly. In the deep shadow of the porch, on the winding windowless staircase of the old house, it was pitch dark. He felt a hand put in his and heard a low voice saying: "Come, Monseigneur." From first to last, both in speech and in writing, she called him by that title and by none other. Witjiout a word he followed her, picking his steps, till they reached her room. She led him to the chair by the window ; the darkness was somewhat less dense there. He stood by the chair. " The lamp 's broken — and there 's only one match in the box ! " said Sophy, with a low laugh. " Shall we use it now — or when you go, Monseigneur ? " "Light it now. My memory, rather than my imagination ! " She struck the match; her face came upon him white in the darkness, with the mark on her cheek a dull red ; but her eyes glittered. The match flared and died down. " It is enough. I shall remember." "Did I kill him?" "I don't know whether he's killed — he's badly hurt. This lady here is pretty heavy." " Give her to me. I 'U put her in her place." She took the figure and set it again on the window- sill. " And the big man who attacked you ? " " Mistitch ? He '11 be shot." 134 / THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT. "Yes," she agreed with calm unquestioning emphasis. " You know what you did to-night ? " "I had the sense to think of the man in the porch." "Yoii saved my life." Sophy gave a laugh of triumph. "What will Marie Zerkovitch say to that?" " She 's my friend too, and she 's told me all about you. But she didn't want us to meet." " She thinks I bring bad luck." ^ " She '11 have to renounce that heresy now." He lelt for the chair and sat down, Sophy leaning agamst the window-sill. " Why did they attack you ? " He told her of the special grudge which Mistitch and his company had against him, and added- But they all hate me, except my own fellows from Volseni. I have a hundred of them in Suleiman's Tower, and they're staunch enough." *' Why do they hate you ? " "Oh, I'm their schoolmaster— and a very strict one, I suppose. Or, if you like, the pruning-knife- ^and that 's not popular with the rotten twigs." There are many rotten twigs?" She heard his hands fall on the wooden arms of the chair and pictured his look of despair. " Ail- almost all. It's not their fault. What cin you expect ? They 're encouraged to laziness and to not. Tuey have no good rifles. The city is left SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. defenceless. I have no big guns." He broke suddenly into a low laugh. " There— that 's what Zcrlcovitch calls my fixed idea; he declares it's written on my heart — big guns ! " "If you had them, you'd be— master?" "I could make some attempt ai a defence any- how; at least we could cover a retreat to the hills, if war came." He paused. "And in peace— yes,' I should be master of Slavna. I 'd bring men from Volseni to serve the guns." His voice had grown vindictive. " Stcnovics knows that, I think." He roused himself again and spoke to her earnestly. " Listen. This fellow Mistitch is a great hero with the soldiers and the mob. When I have him shot, as I shall— not on my own account, I could have killed him to-night, but for the sake of discipline- there will very likely be a disturbance. What you did to-night will be all over the city by to-morrow morning. If you see any signs of disturbance, if any people gather round here, go to Zerkovitch's at once— or, if that 's not possible or safe, come to me in Suleiman's Tower, and I'll send for Marie Zerkovitch too. Will you promise? You must run no risk." •Til come if I'm afraid." "Or if you ought to be?" he insisted, laughing again. "Well then— or if I ought to be," she promised, joining in his laugh. " But the King— isn't he with you ? " X36 THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT. •U^ «^;'T*- -^ --^-b"? The King vnn =11 .!,• T discourage him. I tell you all this beca. e youTe committed to our side wiih^^ouV™ '""""'""^ '" y°"' '■■'»*• Who else is "In Slavna? Nobody! Well thp 7»ri,„ ■. u and my hundred in 'sulel „■' Vter tnd at volseni and among the hills they're with me " Again he seemed to muse as he reviLd Ms sc^ij- "I wish we had another match I wanf f rmS;;;.-"''"^ ■^^ ^ «« -ni.,.. shltcaim^'d halt' girnolafh t"^^^ '^ '^"^■'- s tto:Tth-^^ '-^-^^^^^^^^^^^ world LMs Tj-i-Lf: u^:^ '• ,t :r^;nfrblcTnr -ln-^.{? - -- «~ biven mm iiie; he seemed to be '37 ' Vi-:M§mtmm^m.^ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. i'l M.S- giving back life to her life that night. How should the hour not seem pregnant with destiny, a herald of the march of fate ? But suddenly the Prince awoke from his reverie — perhaps from a dream. To Sophy he gave the impression — as he was to give it more than once again — of a man pulling himself up, tightening the rein, drawing back into himself. He stood erect, his words became more formal, and his voice restrained. " I hnger too long," he said. " My duty lies at the Tower yonder. I 've thanked you badly ; but what thanks can a man give for his life ? We shall meet again — I '11 arrange that with Marie Zerkovitch. You '11 remember what I 've told you to do in case of danger ? You '11 act on it ? " "Yes, Monseigneur." He sought her hand, kissed it, and then groped his way to the stairs. Sophy followed and went with him down to the porch. "Be carefrl to lock your door," he enjoined her, " and don't go out to-morrow unless the streets are quite quiet." " Oh, but I 've a French lesson to give at ten o'clock," she remons':rated with a smile. " You have to do that ? " " I have to make my living, Monseigneur." " Ah, yes," he said meditatively. " Well, slip out quietly — and wear a veil." "Nobody knows my face." 138 THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT. "Wear a veil. People notice a face like yours. Again thanks, and good-night." Sophy peeped out from the porch and watched his quick soldierly march up the street to St. Michael's Square. The night had lightened a little, and she could make out his figure, although dimly, until he turned the corner and was lost to sight. She lingered for a moment before turning to go back to her room —lingered musing on the evening's history Down the street, from the square, there came a woman-young or old, pretty or ugly, fine dame or drudge. It was too dark to tell. But it was a woman and she wept as though her heart were broken. Fo^ whom and for what did she weep like that ? Was she fT^r^^'^'^'u' f' sweetheart? Perhaps she wept 1 ! u 5 ° ^^^ '" P'"^ ""^ ^^^t^- Perhaps she loved big Mistitch, over whom hovered the shadow of swift and relentless doom. Or maybe her sorrow was remote from all that touched them or touched Iv f '"V^^,^. j^^te^ed to her sobs-the bitter sobs which she did not seek to check, which filled the night with a dirge of immeasurable sadness. In the darkness and to Sophy's ignorance of anything individual about her, the woman was like a picture or a sculpture-some type or monument of human wTnH ^"? °^ """^''^''^ '°^^°^' ''y'^^S that all joy ends in tears— in tears— in tears She went by, not seeing her watcher. The sound of her sobbing softened with distance, tUl it died down to a faint far-off moan. Sophy herself gave 139 flS«-Wf- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 1 'i one choked sob. Then fell the silence of the night again. Was that its last message — the last comment on what had passed ? Tears — and then silence ? Was that the end? Sophy never learnt aught of the woman — who she was or why she wept. But her memory retained the vision. It had come as the last impression of a night no moment of which could ever be forgotten. What had it to s^y of all the rest of the night^s happenings? Sophy's exaltation fell from her; but her courage stood— against darkness, solitude, and' the unutterable sadness of that forlorn wailing. Dauntlessly she looked forward and upward still, yet with a new insight for the cost. So for Sophy passed the name-day of King AleTfiB^ t4o CHAPTER V. ,11] A QUESTION OF MEMORY. K''r^ A.^EXIS was minded that all proper recognition should be made of Sophv's service to his family. It had been her «s he h^ """ u" t^^P^'^n^nt and Z^nfn'f \- '0"°"' ""^ '^==' considerable Wkh the P "■• ®"' ,*'" '^''^ ""« than this. With the Prince was bound ud th*» nr,^ .* Mng of a natur. otherwise ^asyLHaS The King might go fishing on most lawfuPday ' but It was always a Stefanovitch who fished-a n't 7 mM,""™'' " P""=«= °f - gr«ft house and bad felt able to offer Countess Ellenburg no more than a morganatic union. The work w! marnage had begun his son's was to compJe The n^ -Z."'.^"^™"'* ""^ =«" °° its promoti-on It lay with the Prince to make its rank acknowledged' and secure. Thus Sophy's action loomed We in Sophy at the Palace with every t 141 M^^m^m^i SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. I'l i II r ¥1 m I' circumstance of compliment. The Prince was not present— he made mihtary duty an excuse — but Countess Ellenburg and her little son were in the room, and General Stenovics, with Markart in atten- dance, stood beside the King's chair. Sophy saw a tall, handsome, elderly man, with thick iron-grey hair most artfully arranged. (The care of it was no small part of the duty of Lepage, the King's French body-servant.) His Majesty's manners were dignified, but not formal. The warmth of greeting which he had prepared for Sophy was evidently increased by the impression her appearance made on him. He thanked her in terms of almost overwhelming gratitude. " You have preserved the future of my family and of our dynasty," he said. Countess Ellenburg closed her long narrow eyes. Everything about her was long and narrow, from her eyes to her views, taking in, on the way, her nose and her chin. Stenovics glanced at her with a smile of uneasy propitiation. It was so particularly important to be gracious just now— gracious both over the preservation of the dynasty and over its preserver. " No gratitude can be too great for such a service, and no mark of gratitude t' o h gh." He glanced round to Markart, and called good-humouredly : "You, Markart there, a chair for this lady!" Markart got a chair. Stenovics took it from him, and himself prepared to offer it to Sophy, But the X42 fSl was not ise — but •e in the in atten- an, with I. (The Lepage, ilajesty's 1. The ired for ipression i her in nily and >w eyes. w, from ber nose a smile ticularly us both aver its service, glanced •uredly : m him, But the I II A QUESTION OF MEMORY. King rose took it, and with a low bow presented It to the favoured object of his gratitude. Sophy curtsied low, the King waited till she sat. Countess Ellenburg bestowed on her a smile of wintry con- gratulation. ^ "But for you these fellows might-or rather would, I think-have killed my son in their blind drunkenness ; it detracts in no way from your service that they did not know whom they were attacking " There was a moment's silence. Sophy was still nervous m such company; she was also uneasily conscious of a most intense gaze directed at her by General Stenovics. But she spoke out. "They knew perfectly well, Sir," she said. They knew the Prince?" he asked sharply. Why do you say that ? It was dark." " Not in the street, Sir. The illuminations lit it up. ' "But they were very drunk." " They may have been drunk, but they knew the Prince. Captain Mistitch called him by his name " " Stenovics ! " The King's voice was full of surprise and question as he turned to his Minister. The General was surprised too, but very suave • "I can only say that I hear Mile, de Gruche's words with astonishment. Our accounts are not consistent with what she says. We don't, of course lay too much stress on the protestations of the two prisoners, but Lieutenant Rastatz is clear that the street was decidedly dark, and that they all three H3 » * I 'I II I tVti^ d r. SOFHY OF KRA.VONIA. :- believed the man they encountered to be Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars. That officer much resembles his Royal Highness in height and figure. In the dark the difference of uniform would not be noticed — especially by men in their condition." He addressed Sophy: "Mistitch had an old quarrel with Stafnitz; that's the true origin of the affair." He turned to the King again. "That is Rastatz's story, Sir, as well as Mistitch's own— though Mistitch is, of course, quite aware that his most unseemly, and indeed criminal, talk at the Golden Lion seriously prejudices his case. But we have no reason to distrust Rastatz." "Lieutenant Rastatz ran away only because he was afraid," Sophy remarked. " He ran to bring help, mademoiselle," Stenovics corrected her, with a look of gentle reproach. "You were naturally excited," he went on. " Isn't it possible that your memory has played you a trick ? Think carefully. Two men's lives may depend on it." " I heard Captain Mistitch call the Prince Sergius Stefanovitch," said Sophy. "This lady will be a most important witness," observed the King. "Very, Sir," Stenovics assented drily. Sophy had grown eager. "Doesn't the Prince say they knew him?" "His Royal Highness hasn't been asked for any account at present," Stenovics answered. H4 A QUESTION OF MEMORY. be Colonel 1 resembles e. In the ! noticed — addressed 1 Stafnitz; He turned story, Sir, itch is, of emly, and I seriously reason to ecause he Stenovics h. "You "Isn't it 1 a trick? y depend :e Sergius witness," le Prince i for any " If they knew who it was, they must die," said the King, in evident concern and excitement. Stenovics contented himself with a bow of obedience. The King rose and gave Sophy his hand. " We shall hope to see you again soon," he said very graciously. "Meanwhile, General Stenovics has something to say to you in my name which will, I trust, prove agreeable to you." His eyes dwelt on her face for a moment as she took her leave. Stenovics made his communication later in the day, paying Sophy the high compliment of a pergonal call at the sign of the Silver Cock for that purpose. His manner was most cordial. Sophy was to receive an honorary appointment in the Royal Household at an annual salary of ten thousand paras, or some four hundred pounds. " It isn't riches— we aren't very rich in Kravonia— but it will, I hope, make you comfortable and relieve you from the tiresome lessons which Markart tells me you 're now burdened with." Sophy was duly grateful and asked wha her appointment was. "It's purely honorary," he smiled. "You are to be Keeper of the Tapestries." "I know nothing about tapestries," said Sophy, "but I dare say I can learn; it'll be very in- tet.'c;i,ting." Stenovics leant back in his chair with an amused smile. 11 Hi mmmmm. I i« — ni m K I? fi Up «i »*' II * SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "There aren't anv tan-stries," he said. "They were sold a good laany years ago." " Then why do you keep a " "When you're older in the royal service, you'll see that it's convenient to have a few sinecures," he told her with a good-humoured laugh. "See how handy this one is now." " But I shall feel rather an impostor." "Merely the novelty of it," he assured her consolingly. ■ Sophy began to laugh, and the Gener'.) joined in heartily. " Well, that 's settled," said he. " You make three or four appearances at Court, and nothing more will be necessary. I hope yon like your appoint- ment ? " Sophy laughed deh'^htedly. " It '■ . charming- nd very amusing," she said. " I 'm getting very much interested in your country, General." "Mycouxitry is returning your kind compliment, I can assure you," he replied. His tone had grown dry, and he seemed t.- be watching hei now. She waved her har?' to- ards the Virgin with the Lamp : the mas. i i ire stood in its old place by the window. " What a lot I owe to her ! " she cried. " We all owe much," said Stenovics. " The Prince thought some people might be angry with me — because Captajn Mistitch is a favourite." 146 A QUESTION OF MEMORY. " Very possible, I 'm afraid, very possible. But in this world we must do our duty, and " ** Risk the consequences ? Yes ! " "If we can't control them, Mile, de Gruche." He paused a -foment, and then went on : " The court-martial on Mistitch is convened for Saturday Sterkoff won't be well enough to be tried for another two or three weeks." "I'm glad he's not dead, though if he recovers only to be shot ! Still I 'm glad I didn't kill him. ' " Not by your hand," said Stenovics. "But you mean in effect ? Well, I'm not ashamed. Surely they deserve death ? " " Undoubtedly— if Rastatz is wrong— and vour memory right." " The Prince's own story ! " " He isn't committed to any story yet." Sophy rested her chin on her hnnd and regarded her companion closely. He diu not .zvoid her glance. "You're wondering what I mean? What I'm after?" he asked her, smiling quietly. "Oh, yes, I see you are. Go on wondering, thinking, watching things about you for a day or two— there are three days between now and Saturday. You'll see me again before Saturday— ana I've no doubt you'll see the Prince." "If Rastatz were right — and my memory wrong—? " ^ y H7 ^^"ittn^m SOi»HY OF KRAVONIA. i Im! II W r^ '1^ *■* i i He smiled still. "The offence against discipline would be so 'much less serious. The Prince is a disciplinarian. To speak with all respect, he forgets sometimes that discipline is, in the last analysis, only a part of policy— a means, not an end. The end is always the safety and tranquillity of the State." He spoke with weighty emphasis. "The offence against discipline! An attempt to assassinate 1 " " I see you cling to your own memory — you won't have anything to say to Rastatz ! " He rose and bowed over her hand. " Much may happen between now and Saturday. Look about you, watch, and think ! " The General's final injunction, at least, Sophy lost no time in obeying; and on the slightest thought three things were obvious. The King was very grateful to her. Stenovics wished at any rate to appear very grateful to her. And, for some reason or another, Stenovics wished her memory to be wrong, to the end that the life of Mistitch and his companion (the greater included the less) might be spared. Why did he wish that ? Presumably — his words about the relation of discipline to policy supported the conclusion — to avoid that disturbance which the Prince had fore- casted as the result of Mistitch's being put to death. But the Prince was not afraid of the disturbance — why should Stenovics be? The Commandant was all confidence — was the Minister afraid? In some 148 A QUESTION OF MEMORY. sense he was afraid. That she accepted. But she hesitated to beUeve that he was afraid in the common sense that he was either lacking in nerve or overburdened with humanity, that he either feared fighting or would shrink from a salutary severity in repressing tumult. If he feared, he feared neither for his own skin nor for the skin of others ; he feared for his policy or his ambition. These things were nothing to her: she was for the Prince, for his policy and his ambition. Were they the same as Stenovics' ? Even a novice at the game could see that this by no means followed of necessity. The King was elderly and went a-fishing. The Prince was young and a martinet. In age Stenovics was between the two— nearly twenty years younger than the King, a dozen or so older than the Prince. Under the present regime he had matters almost entirely his own way. At first sight there was, of a certainty, no reason why his ambitions should coincide precisely with those of the Prince. Fifty-nine, forty-one, twenty-eight— the ages of the three men in themselves illuminated the situation— that is, if forty-one could manage fifty -nine, but had no such power over twenty-eight. New to such meditations, yet with a native pleasure in them, taking to the troubled waters as though born a swimmer, Sophy thought, and watched, and looked about. As to her own part, she was clear. Whether Rastatz was right— whether that most vivid and indelible *moi y " f hers w as wrong — 149 mm^mm^^mm^^ t] :^' I rr m were questions which awaited the sole determina- tion of the Prince of Slavna. Her attitude would have been unchanged, but her knowledge much increased, could she have been present at a certain meeting on the terrace of the H6tel de Paris that same evening. Markart was there — and little Rastatz, whose timely flight and accommodating memory rendered him to-day not only a free man but a personage of value. But neither did more than wait on the words of the third member of the party— that Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars, who had an old feud with Mistitch, for whom Mistitch had mistaken the Prince of Slavna. A most magnanimous forgiving gentleman, apparently, this spare slim-built man with thoughtful eyes; his whole concern was to get Mistich out of the mess ! The feud he seemed to remember not at all ; it was a feud of convenience, a feud to swear to at the court-martial. He was as ready to accommodate Stenovics with the use of his name as Rastatz was to offer the requisite modifications of his memory. But there — with that supply of a convenient fictibn —his pliability stopped. He spoke to Markart, using him as a conduit pipe — the words would flow through to General Stenovics. " If the General doesn't want to see me now— and I can understand that he mustn't be caught confabbing with any supposed parties to the affair — you must make it plain to him how matters stand. Somehow and by some means our dear Hercules 150 A QUESTION OF MEMORY. '■ :um must be saved. Hercules is an ass; but so are most of the men— and all the rowdies of Slavna They love their Hercules, and they won't let him die without a fight— and a very big fight. In that fight what might happen to his Royal Highness the Commandant? And if anything did happen to him, what mi^^ht happen to General Stenovics ? I don't know that either, but it seems to me that he'd be in an awkward place. The King wouldn't be pleased with him ; and we here in Slavna— are we going to trouble ourselves about the man who couldn't save our Hercules?" Round-faced Markart nodded in a perplexed tashion. Stafnitz clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. " For heaven's sake don't think about it, or you '11 get It all mixed 1 Just try to remember it. Your only business is to report what I say to the General." Rastatz sniggered shrilly. When the wine was not m him, he was a cunning little rogue— a useful tool in any matter which did not ask for courage. "If I'd been here, Mistitch wouldn't have done the thing at all-or done it better. But what's done IS done. And we expect the General to stand .u "':„ V '^°'''*' "^^ "'''"* ^^^ ^°^ ourselves ; for there II be no bearing our dear Commandant if we sit down under the death of Mistitch. In short the men won't stand it." He tapped Markart's am. w.a, must iciciioc umo us Jbarabbas ! " 151 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. M i \i/t m ■} St The man's easy self-confidence, his air of authority, surprised neither of his companions. If there were a good soldier besides the Commandant in Slavna, Stafnitz was the man ; if there were a head in Kravonia cooler than Stenovics', it was on the shoulders oi Stafnitz. He was the brain to Mistitch's body — the mind behind Captain Hercules' loud voice and brawny fists. "Tell him not' to play his big stake on a bad hand. Mind you tell him that." *' His big stake, Colonel ? " asked Markart. "What do I understand by that ? " "Nothing; and you weren't meant to. But tell Stenovics — he '11 understand." Rastatz laughed his rickety giggle again. " Rastatz does that to make you think he under- stands better than you do. Be comforted — he doesn't." Rastatz's laugh broke out again, but now forced and uneasy. "And the girl who knocked Sterkoff out of time— I wish she 'd killed the stupid brute — what about her, Markart ? " "She's — er — a very remarkable person. Colonel." " Er — is she ? I must make her acquaintance. Good-bye, Markart." Llarkart had meant to stay for half an hour, but he went. " Good-bye, Rastatz." Rastatz had just ordered another liqueur; but, without waiting to drink it, he too went. Stafnitz sat on alone, smoking his cigar. There were no 153 A QUESTION OF MEMORY. signs of care on his face. Though not gay, it was calm and smooth ; no wrinkles witnessed to worry, nor marred the comely remains of youth which had survived his five-and-thirty years. He finished his cigar, drank his coffee, and rose to go. Then he looked carefully round the terrace, distinguished the prettiest woman with a momentarily lingering look, made his salute to a brother officer, and strolled away along the boulevard. Before he reached the barracks in St. Michael's Square he met a woman whose figure pleased him; she was tall and lithe, moving with a free grace! But over her face she wore a thick veil. The veil no doubt annoyed him; but he was to have other opportunities of seeing Sophy's face. »53 i .i i » i i i t;# ^ - ■ mm i mm i^ f^mm.~~-~^^„^, ^ m CHAPTER VI. "impossible" or "immediate"? STENOVICS was indeed in a quandary. Mistitch had precipitated an unwelcome and premature crisis. The Minister's dehberate slow-moving game was brought to a sudden issue which he was not ready to face. It had been an essential feature — a governing rule — of his campaign to avoid any open conflict with the Prince of Slavna until an occasion arose on which both the army and the King would be on his side. The King was a power not merely by reason of his cheaply won popularity, but also because he was, while he lived, the only man who could crown Stenovics' operations with the consum- mation to which the Minister and his ally, Countess Ellenburg, looked forward with distant yet sanguine hope. The army was with him now, but the other factor was lacking. The King's pride, as well as his affection, was enlisted in his son's interest. Moreover this occasion was very bad. Mistitch was no better than an assassin ; to take up arms on his behalf was to fight in a cause plainly disgraceful — one which would make success very difficult and 154 " IxMPOSSIBLE " OR "IMMEDIATE"? • 1 I issue been )f his h the smirch It for ever and beyond remedy, even if it came. It was no cause in which to fight both Prince and King. That would be playing the big stake on a bad hand— as Stafnitz put it Yet the alternative ? Stafnitz again had put that Clearly. The army would have no more to do with the man who could not help it at the pinch, who could not save its favourite, who could not release Joarabbas. The Prince seemed to be in his most unyielding mood-the Bourbon in him was peeping out. For the honour of the Royal House, and for the sake of discipline, Mistitch must die. He had packed his court-martial with the few trustworthy friends he had among the officers, using the justification which jury-packers always use-and sometimes have. He had no fear of the verdict-and no heed for its unpopularity. He knew the danger- Stenovics made no secret about that-but said plainly that he woud sooner be beaten by a mutiny than yield o the threat of one. The first meant for him de- ^at, perhaps death, but not dishonour nor ignominy. The more Stenovics prophesied-or threatened- a revolt of tne troops, the more the Commandant stmeneo hi? neck. Meanv.hik Slavna waited in on.inous sullen qmet, h^^ '„\ Tf TJ^' '° ''""y *** King Alexis had no heart for fishing. for^M^rf l^ "oming-the day before that appointed ■or Mistitch's tnal-the names of the members of S5j )■ i i# ' iii II the Court were published; the list met with the reception which was no doubt anticipated even bj- the Prince himself. The streets began to fill with loiterers, talkers, and watchers , barrack- rooms were vociferous with grumbling and with speculation. Stafnitz, with Rastatz always at his heels, was busy with many interviews; Stenovics sat in his room, moodily staring before him, seeking a road out of his blind alley; and a carriage drew up before the sign of the Silver Cock as the Cathedral bells chimed noon. It was empty inside, but by the driver sat Peter Vassip, the Prince's personal attendant, wearing the sheepskin coat, leather breeches, and high boots that the men of the hills wore. His business was to summon Sophy to Suleiman's Tower. The Square of St. Michael was full of life and bustle, the Golden Lion did a fine trade. But the centre of interest was on the north wall and the adjacent quays, under the shadow of Suleiman's Tower. Within those walls were the two protagon- ists. Thence the Prince issued his orders ; thither Mistitch had been secretly conveyed the night before by a party of the Prince's own guard, trustworthy Volseiiians. A crowd of citizens and soldiers was chattering and staring at the Tov/er when Sophy's carriage drew up at the entrance of the bridge which, crossing the North River, gave access to the fort. The mouth of the bridge was guarded by fifty of those 156 "IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE' Ath the even by fill with US were ;ulation. as busy 3 room, it of his the sign chimed i driver :endant, es, and e. His eiman's life and But the md the eiman's otagon- thither t before tworthy attering carriage crossing . The )f those same Volsenians. They had but to retreat and raise the bridge behind them, and Mistitch was safe in the trap. Only— and the crowd was quick enough to understand the situation— the prisoner's trap could be made a snare for his jailer too. Unless provisions could be obtamed from the country round, it would be impossible to hold the Tower for long against an enemy controlling the butchers' and bakers' shops of Slavna. Yet it could be held long enough to settle the business of Captain Hercules! The shadow of the weeping woman had passed from Sophy's spirit ; the sad impression was never the lasting one with her. An hour of crisis always found her gay. She entered the time-worn walls of Suleiman's Tower with a thrill of pleasure, and followed Peter Vassip up the narrow stair with a delighted curiosity. The Prince received her in the large round room which constituted the first floor of the central tower. Its furniture was simple, almost rude, Its massive walls quite bare save for some pieces of ancient armour. Narrow slits, deep-set in the masonry, served for windows and gave a view of the city and of the country round on every side • they showed the seething throng on the north wall and on the quays ; the distant sound of a thousand voices struck the ear. Zerkovitch and his wife were v^-ith the Prince seated over a simple meal, at which Sophy joined them. Mane had watched Sophy's entrance and the Prince's greeting closely ; she marked Sophy's excite- ^57 m. r»i i i . '= ''-■I and took from Zerkovitch a quill, which the journalist 165 .-^ *iW«fo« ''^^^^f^mmmmm^t > !*' SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. was twiddling in his fingers. He made a scratch, and a scribble on the paper which the Prince had taken from the envelope. Impossible ' has become ' Immediate,' sir." "And 'Sergius Stefanovitch ' 'Nikolas Stafnitz '" said the Prince. He looked at Sophy for confir- mation, and she softly clapped her hands. 266 CHAPTER VII. THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT. THE troops of the garrison and their allies, the scum of the streets, thought that they had scored a great victory, and inflicted deep humiliation on the unpopular martinet who ruled and harried them. They celebrated the event with noisy but harmless revels, and when Captain Hercules was seen about again (he submitted to a fortnight's confinement to barracks with feelings in which thankfulness, though not grati- tude, predominated), he found his popularity with them greater than ever. But in the higher circles— the inner ring— of the party he served his reception was not so cordial. Stenovics would not see him ; Stafnitz saw him only to express a most uncompromising judgment on his conduct. Yielding in appearance, in point of substance the Prmce of Slavna had scored heavily. The big guns were ordered from Germany. The Prince had the money to pay for them, and they were to be consigned to him ; these were the guarantees which he had asked from Stenovics. When the guns came— and he had agreed to make an extra payment for early delivery— 167 - the chance was not yet I thlK °" ''''''''' ""' with his son, or if there w.L ^ ? ""•' *' ^"-"ity while the Prince wL IT n„'.^^'""=' °^ *''« Crown his interests, there might & the' ''°' '° '°°'' ^f'" now the King was a^ ^ '!'.^,°PPortunity. But Apparent, the^P^e J^Z'T'J"^ "H' «- was on the x6g spot; the guns SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 11 i ri; ifU and their Volsenian gunners threatened to be on the spot too, ere long. It was not now the moment for the big stake. King Alexis was delighted with his new Order, and the Grand Master's insignia were ver}' handsome. In the centre of a five- pointed star St. Michael slew the Dragon — a symbol, perhaps, of Captain Mistitchl The broad ribbon was of virgin white ; it would show up well against either the black sheepskin of the Volsenian tunic or the bright blue of the Prince's hussar uniform. There were some day to be five other Knights ; with the Grand Master and the Sovereign himself the mystic number Seven would be reached — but it would never be exceeded; the Order would be most select. All this the King explained in a florid speech, gleeful with his new toy, while the serious folk listened with a respectful deference and a secret smile. "If he would make order, instead of Orders ! " thought the Prince ; and probably Colonel Stafnitz, in attendance as his Majesty's aide-de-camp, had thoughts not very different. Yet even toys take on a significance when grown-up people play with them. Countess Ellenburg was not pleased that only one appointment should be made to the Order of St. Michael. Was it not time that the pretty boy Alexis wore a star ? The King had not done yet ; there was honour for the Prince s friends too ; men should know that service to the Koyal House was meritorious in pro- portion to the illustrious position of that House. 170 THE DARONHSS GOES TO COURT. the price of aCom,^'' ZT'^T^' ^"'"'''^'^ bore the ouelay patLt T, u^'' ' ''''''<-• '»= refreshed himself wlTr , 7 ""= "^'"e' ''"'"K Lepage brough h,m , urn T? "."'"'='' '"'^ ™''-" task. The Keeper oT'tleT ^^ ' """'' ^^"'''"'^ her place in he e ret I ''■? ™r™"''"'-'^ '™'" Colonel Stafnitl Lh ? '''= '^"''= ^erkovitch. b". now If ;;^f 1.°":.^ ^-T"*"''"''-' familiar. He turned h 7 V ''S""''' ^'='^"'«d -"o was inVZ^L'l^'-^rz' !°'!-'-^' Markart whisoercH In ' "''" ^ ber," the Coloner'eyes The"'"" 1° "^^ '^"'=^"°" '" instantly. Thet t^olas et'the" '"'. '° '"P^^ Ellcnburg. For Snnh , ^''^^ °^ Countess She too loved tov^.P^LT "" '"" ''^""'^ ">''' ^ay. name to wh.ch she had . k"'""' ''"'"='' "^ the bered. Her eyes 'lo!,^,. ''°™ '""^' ''^ ^^-"en,- on her cCu'Zut ^ir'sl: ■^<^ ,^^^ Slo.e, curtsied to the Kinc , , lu '"""Phant, as she to hear his gracbuf ;o;ds ^'°°<^' ^^^ -^ constrained once or twice he ooked in°„ • °", '"'"^"""^ «'^«.- in her turn showed S o7reT'' " """'''■ ""^o A silence followed on L >, f ''"^'' °' ^^^^ss. acknowledgmems The ^n^ic T""" °' •"- Mar^ and made up It^j^n ^T '''^ "' inJ::ft?a"^'''^'''"''"-^->=ed'"^ ::But w, ,.. ,; Jj.ij'f- *;,^_. -I couldn't... smiled. "Then I muftluL * '"°'"«'«' 'hen -ir of his came up. a small ary, im- d rather ry quick, deft and I to con- the King e said at "You never told mef" Tho j from Natcheffs lips "" "^^'^^ '^'^^ sharp Besides .he BaroLss^Dota a' Red Sn tl "''''*■ the famting fit of King Alexis - Th ' " ™' immersed i„ deep thouchf <,Pf ""' '™' ="^"f' cigarette witl, a hit ® /u ^'^'""^ ^"°k«d his last, when they If a,"?" ™°^'^'"f -"- At the H6tel de Pans sIZ """f ' *''" '"'"^^ "f " If 1 I ,,,"'' i^tenovics spoke. said. '""'^ '"^ '"^ '^-'J-it-g on the wall," he "Bu?tp?.etTi:.s'tt7'-'' ^■'-^y- whom, besides the Zg Wmself ^e '° ^'°" '° addressed." ^ "'mseu, the message is " Or what it says ? " -;:'tKe'"i?!f3C"f •■' ^--^- ^ '"'"•='' said nothing- he^! T ! ."■ '""^ "nmoved; he grunt. ^' ^' '=°"'«""='' himself with a sdlen ia M 18 77 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA " Short for the King ! " pursued Stafnitz, with a shake of his head. " Short for the Prince perhaps ! And certainly, General, uncomfortably short for us!" Stenovics grunted again and then rode on some while in silence. At last, just as he was about to part from his companion, he made one observation : "Fortunately Natcheff is a friend of mine; we shall get the best possible information." "That might become of importance, no doubt, General," said Stafnitz, smiling still. l\i Hi 11 I ill 178 CHAPTER VIII. MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM. DR. NATCHEFF amply reassured public opinion. What information he gave to matter .T"^ ^-''"."t'' ^'' '"«'"'' '= ^"o*" "eart pLvT"'"t ^""^^ '" *^' statesman's the PrinL f ^r*^ '° ^^''^^^y «'^«' f^o™ estate from which Sophy had been graciously biddei^ why thTprinc'^H u"""''"^ *^^^ ™= "' --» Why the Pnnce should not carry out his intention and proceed to the Castle of Praslok. been srat!!f™.H' "'' "''" P°=t-"ad-as has already teen stated, there was no railway at this time- follows the course of the River Krath for a"^ five miles m a south-easterly direction. It is then carried across the stream (which continue to t end o the south) by an ancient wooden bridge and runs north-east for another fifteen mileslh;ough !J H ■*^^«^. ii«'^'-a««^*:'' ■•'iSiffi -i: _u-&-a9 t H (,f.r,riua '^^^^^^^Smsiti:-' i! i'j'j.i 51^ MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM. flat country and past prosperous agricultural and pastoral v, lages, till it reaches the marshy land border,ng Lake Talti. The lake, extending from his pomt to the spurs of the mountain range which !n7> 'j^^''•°"""• •'^'•^ it= farther direct progress, and ,t diwdes mto two branches. The right prong of the fork contmues on the level till it reaches Dobrava, eighj m.les from the point of bisection; here it mcl.nes to the north-east again, and afte^ some ten miles of steady ascent crosses the moun- tarns by St. Peter's Pass, the one carriage road over the range and over the frontier. The left prong becomes a steep ascent directly the bisection Sm °'Tl ' ."''"« '■'^'P'y f" «^« ™l«s to the h.11 on which the Castle of Praslok stands. Thence It runs for another five miles on a high plateau on th '"f '''/'^ '"! "'y °' ^°'-"'' whichlrd: on the edge of the plateau, looking down on Lake R ^"^ ^?T '° ^"""^^^ '" *« P'ai" opposite. Beyond Volseni there is no road in the prope sense, but only cart or bridle tracks. Of these ^he pnncipal and most frequented runs diagonally ^Zf^^'tV" "'''^'' "^^^ Talti lies, if inter! rupted by e lake (at that point about a mile and a half wide), and then meets the road from Dobrava ha f-way up St. Peter's Pass, and about twenty mhs across country from Volseni. It thus forms the base of a rough and irregular triangle of country, with the point where the Slavna road bisects the I asb, and Volseni marking its three angles. Lake .il I ;! tt; , If M i8i W'mM.*mm:^^^^., '*'<-t»t?*t. m 'ii SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Talti is set in the middle, backed by a chain of hills continuous everywhere except at the indenta- tion of the Pass. Though so near to Slavna in actual distance, the country is very different from the fertile river-valley which surrounds the capital; it is bleak and rough, a land of hill pastures and mountain woods. Its natural features are reflected in the character of the inhabitants. The men who count Volseni a local capital are hardier than the men of Slavna, less given to luxury, less addicted to quarrels and riots, but considerably more formidable opponents if once they take up arms. For this reason, no less than on account of their devotion to him, the Prince did well to choose this country as the recruiting-ground for his new force of gunners. The Prince had been at Praslok for a week when Sophy set out to join him there. At the last moment Zerkovitch decided to remain in Slavna, at least until the Court made its promised move to Dobrava: reassuring as Dr. Natcheff was, it would do no harm to have a friendly pair of eyes and ears in the capital so long as the King remained in residence. Thus the two ladies were accompanied only by Peter Vassip, whom the Prince had sent to escort them. They set out in a heavy travelling- carriage at ten in the morning, reckoning to reach the Castle before evening fell ; their progress would never be rapid, and for the last five miles exceed- ingly slow. They left the capital in complete 182 MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM. I tranquillity, and when Sophy settled her bill at the sign of the Silver Cock and bade farewell to old Meyerstein her landlord, he expressed the hope that she would soon be back, though, indeed, his poor house was, he feared, no fit quarters for the Baroness Dobrava. " I don't know whether I shall come back here, but I can never forget your house. I shall always love It m my memory," said Sophy. Max yon Hollbrandt had obtained leave of absence from his Legation, and had accompanied the Prince to Praslok. The two were friends, haying many tastes in common, and not least the taste for soldiering. Besides having the pleasure of his company, the Prince looked to obtain valuable aid from Max m the task on which he was engaged. 1 he young German was amused and delighted with his expedition. Praslok is a primitive old place. It stands on an abrupt mound, or knob, of ground by he roadside. So steep and sudden is the ascend that It was necessary to build a massive causeway of wood-an inclined plane-to lead up from the road ronf fT u mI^' '^"^"^^ ^^^^'^ ^^^^h forms the front of the building; the causeway has cross-bars which ?n nM T ' '° '^' ^°°*^°^^ *° *he horses WnH t '^' ^''' ''^^^'^ ^^*hi" the walls. n^T\ ?'' "'°^'''" 't^b^^s had been built on the other side of the road, and it had become ca^trrfoir^""' ''- ^^-^^^^^ ^^' -^- *^^ -S3 , v«y^^,l,_ SMM SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Within the arrangements were quaint and verv- simple. Besides the tower already mentioned, which contained the dining-room and two bedrooms above it, the whole building, strictly conditioned by the shape of the hill on which it stood, consisted of three rows of small rooms on the ground floor. In one row lived the Prince and his male guests, in the second the servants, in the third the guard. Th^ ladies were to be accommodated in the tower above the dining-room. The rows of rooms opened on a covered walk or cloister, which ran round the inner court of the Castle. The whole was solidly built of grey stone— a businesslike old hill-fortress, strong by reason of its massive masonry and of the position in which it stood. Considered as a modern residence, it had to be treated humorously — so Max declared, and found much pleasure in it from that point of view. The Prince, always indifferent to physical comfort and ever averse from luxury, probably did not realise how much his ancestral stronghold demanded of his guests' indulgence. Old Vassip, Peter's father, was major-domo — always in his sheepskin coat and high boots. His old wife was cook. Half a dozen servants completed the establishment, and of these three were grooms. The horses, in fact, seemed to Max the only creatures whose comforts were at all on a modern footing. But the Prince ws.s entirely satisfied, and never so happy anj^vhere as at Praslok. He loved the simple hardy life ; he loved even more, though perhaps 1S4 MONSEICNEUR'S UNIFORM, les. consciously, tl,e sense of being among friends "ivnT h r.' 'i"'^ '" ""^ *° '=°"' popularity i ■- avna; but h,s lieart went out to meet the unsought devotion of Volseni, the mountain town, and^u TsZn"V'''T- ^'^"'"' -" self-kstrain d ft-om V^r I" "' ""' '™ "'1« back together from Volsen. on the day of Sophy's arrival. They had been at work, and the recruiting promised The Prince laughed gaily. "Coming here from You cani n ''°" '°"g"«-°' other people's! like ,^>h 5 "?'" ^°" "■'^ ^"'^ '™™ ^^en you mle"fcr°Vngt"" "^""'^ ^^'''"^ ^"^''^ ^- marift"'foT"'' '"'" '''°"'^"'' ''"^^ '=''°=«'' ^ diplo- matist for your companion, sir, if you feel like "I haven't." he smiled. "I've left fh» j: i matist down there and brought™ hf 3 Lf And now that the ladies are coming—'' ^■ MadameTr^„ who saved him ! " he cried at the full ot' * s,"Lr". ''"^ ^""<=« ^'^ himsel up 't ti^ saddle and saluted her. « Yes the ^L i saved me," he said. Sophy h^d'the^t n'ow "toxica^L'T^' 'I '" ""^^ -"" f-- of mt^ication. It may be gussed how the Red Star "And you 11 save him, if need be ? " slio cried The hated of SI """■ ™' "" '"^P'^^'l -^^eer. Volsenr! t ° i ""^ ""^ ^ recommendation to Volseni s ncreased regard, the hint of danger I match to Its fiery enthusiasm. ^ * "A favour BaihiT, a favour!" cried a young man of distinguished appearance. He seemed 'to be 187 Ml SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. well known and to carry weight, for there were shouts of " Hear Lukovitch ! Hear Lukovitch ! " — and one called with a laugh : " Aye, listen to the Wolf ! " " What is it, Lukovitch ? " asked the Prince. " Make the lady of our company. Bailiff." New cheers were raised. " Make her a lieutenant of our artillery." Sophy laughed gaily. " I have His Majesty's authority to choose my officers," said the' Prince, smiHng. "Baroness, will you be a lieutenant, and wear our sheepskins in place of your sables there ? " "It is your uniform, Monseigneur," Sophy answered, bowing her head. Lukovitch sprang forward and kissed her hand. "For our Bailiffs preserver as for our Bailiff, men of Volseni ! " he cried loudly. The & iswering cheer brought tears to Sophy's sparkling eyes. For a moment she could not see her Prince nor the men who thus took her to their hearts. Suddenly, in the midst of her exultation, she saw a face on the outskirts of the throng. A small spare man stood there, dressed in unobtrusive tweeds, but making no effort to conceal himself; he was just looking on, a stranger to the town, interested in the picturesque little scene. The face was that of Lieutenant Rastatz. She watched the drilling of the gunners, and then rode back with the Prince, escorted beyond x88 MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM. lere were covitch ! " listen to *rince. Sf." New tenant of loose my ness, will pskins in " Sophy r hand. ir Bailiff, i iswering ^es. For : nor the .tion, she rong. A lobtnisive himself ; he town, The face tiers, and i beyond the gates by a cheering throng, which had now nn^.f '"u ^ ""^"^ '^°"''"- ^"^^^ ^^s falling, and the old grey city took on a ghostly look; the air Lt^h ttf ''''-'''' ''^'^ ''^--' ** Monseigneur, did you see Rastatz ? " she asked. I „kn °; I .1!;'* ''' ^'"'' ^"* ^ ^"^^ he was here. Lukovitch told me yesterday." "And not in uniform!" '•What's he there for?" she asked fretfully. sent him r?r^/°o •■""'' '"''"''■" °f *ose who sent him, I thmk." H.s tone was light and merry. therJ hLT ^°\ ^ ""r'"' ^ ^^'^ >>'= being " You 1!;T V T\\°"^^ '° ^ '- '^'^' Volseni." You and Volseni have fallen in love with one rln''', ""V /' ^°' =Py'"e. all I'm doh,g I do openly and all I shall do. But I don't blame ether"l d^ '"T^ ^" '"' "^ ■"«■ " StafX either. I do my best to keep an eye on them you know We needn't be af^id of^Ra'atl "e who have beaten Hercules Mistitch in open fight7'' Oh, well, away with him 1 " cried Sophy " The sTglur?" ''°^^"-^''^" - <=-- "o-. M^n! Merrily they cantered through the fa^t f,Il,„ evening, side by side. Rastatz w!s om of m „d noC^ all was out of mind save the fascination o7 the "riT; i8g w SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. air, the silent suggestion of gathering night, her Prince who rode beside her. The dark mass of the tower of Praslok rose too soon before her unwilling eyes. She drew rein, sighing. " If life were just all that and nothing else ! " she said, as he helped her to dismount and the grooms took the horses. She stopped half-way up the steep wooden causeway and turned to look back towards Volseni. The Prince stood close by her. "That's good, but life has better things," he said softly. "To ride together is good, and to play together. But to work together is better still, Baroness." For a moment Sophy was silent. Then she laughed in joy. "Well, I'm to wear your uniform henceforth, Monseigneur ! " He took her hand and kissed it. Very slowly and gradually she drew it away, her eyes meeting his as he raised his head. The heavy door at the top of the causeway opened ; Marie Zerkovitch stood there, holding a lamp high in her hand; the sudden light Hooded their faces. For a moment more he looked at her, then went down again on his way to the stables. Sophy ran up to where Marie Zerkovitch stood. "You heard our horses?" she asked gaily. But there was no responsive smile on Marie's lips. For her too the light had shone on those two faces, and she was sorely troubled. igo : night, her mass of the er unwilling f else ! " she the grooms ip the steep ick towards ir. gs," he said nd to play jetter still, Then she henceforth, slowly and eting his as the top of itood there, idden light • he looked vay to the Zerkovitch ?aily. larie's lips, two faces, l\ next. On the thirdT, T u ^°^''^"- ^"^ the the sheepskin ™7t„°P''^ "^' '"'° V"'^^™ in hiding her leaStteCTnd °^ ''"1°^ "'- over her long boots Th7p • """'"^ '"'"■^™y as they rode^n^ the It^Zr "" ''' '-'' ^^^^::T^ ft - HoUBrandt Rastatz drove bact t„ c, '^"S'' — and little He tho„ght"thtfhe°hfr::n''r^\"'^, "'«'"*• purposes; his reoort J^h. I ?°"«'' '°' his on the iiath! ^ ' "" "'"'"' '" 'he city I9X 1 1 r CHAPTER IX. COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS. IN Slavna, Dr. Natcheif continued his reassuring reports until the public at large was so reassured as to ask for no more reports even of the most optimistic description. But the state of mind of the few people behind the scenes was very different. Stafnitz's conclusion held sway there. The time was short! That was the ruling thought and the governing fact. It might be very short; and the end might come without warning. The secret was well kept, but to those to whom he spoke at all Natcheff spoke openly. The King's life hung on a thread, which the least accident might break. With perfect quiet and tranquillity he might live a year, possibly two years; any shock or overstrain would precipitate the end. Countess Ellenburg and her confidential friends knew this, the King knew it himself, and Lepage his valet knew it. There the possession of the secret stopped. The King was gay and courageous; courage, at least, he had never lacked. He seemed almost in- different. The best years were over, he said, and why not an end? An end swift, without pain, IQ2 3 reassuring so reassured of the most mind of the y different. The time ht and the ; ; and the secret was poke at all hung on a 2ak. With live a year, ;rain would 'g and her g knew it There the courage, at almost in- ! said, and hout pain, COUx\TESS ELLENBURG PRAYS. without waiting! There was much Lepage agreed with hii his usual blunt fashion about it. to master him for it. so in y agreed togeth the «.e w^; ;i;:«:u'H^ ZJ^^:! ^ least be.othed. beCtld t ::Zi:\^ tZuTr'^ '" r""-"-^ ™^"'^Se which wL to unrli i„T T """f^ P-e-Ptoriness and an unusual independence, he sent Stenovics oMor= 7 communicate his wishes directly to The Pr nc, ^TrwhiTf"' ''^ ""^ "-e^orandlm Tn The y^hl^ \ TC^""' R^'-'^ ^turned to Slavna Tald. ""' °' ■"' '""^"^«°" -' Volseni in his At first sight the King's commands were totallv »f variance w th the interests nf ft,» un u ^ *' sources of strength and ti 14 193 * '■ W'*'f i *!fei»., >.*»(!^.v,, , SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. prestige to the Prince, not less valuable, more tangi- ble, than even a great match. And now the Prince was on the spot. Send him on his travels ! The time was short ; when the short time ended, he might be far away. Finally, he might go and vet take nothing by his journey ; the exalted Princess would be hard to win ; the King's family pride might defeat itself by making him pitch his hopes and his claims too high. On the whole the matter was difficult. The three chief conspirators showed their conviction of this in their characteristic ways. Countess Ellenburg became more pious than ever ; General Stenovics more silent —at least more prone to restrict his conversation to grunts ; Colonel Stafnitz more gay and interested in life ; he too was fishing, and in his favourite waters, and he had hopes of a big rise. There was one contingency impossible to overlook. In spite of his father's orders, the Prince might refuse to go. A knowledge of the state of the King's health would afford him a very strong excuse, a suspicion of the plans of the coterie an over- powering motive. The King himself had foreseen the former danger and feared its effect on his dominant hopes; by his express command the Prince was kept in ignorance ; he had been amply reassured by Dr. Natcheff. On the latter point the coterie had, they flattered themselves, nothing to fear. On what ground, then, could the Prince justify a refusal? His gunners? That would be unwarrantable; the King would not accept the plea. Did Rastatz's 194 nore tangi- tbe Prince The time 2 might be ke nothing Id be hard It itself by ; too high. The three of this in rg became lore silent irsation to erested in te waters, overlook, ce might :e of the \g excuse, an over- reseen the dominant ince was ssured by erie had, On what refusal ? ible; the Rastatz's COUNTESS E LLExNBURG PRAYS. report suggest any other ground for refusal i> If if did, It was one which tn fh^ v ,^.^^' " ^t seem more unwarrantable stSl "'' """' "°"'^ JtLderatio^f fZ^^Z^^f^ *""' ^^'" that the King's wishes we e Tntn''""" ^='='''^<' should be communtater?o "hi P ■'"'''''•'.'"'' thetil't^HtlXS'^^''^'^-^— '• -ch as L addtioL'ho e^darshf: M medit'atirwoudVt heb mat:'"'' ']= ^''°"'<^^-' Dr. Natcheff-s d.-Ignosis'^ oTthT' 'I' •'" '^^^ °' heart, he must conflTtL jondit.on of his prayer. He harouSv^d Ulo":: for"th T ^^"' but to the end he found in her aToute 'j whTm?",' amusement, divining if nnf \. "^^® °^ whimsical her regrets undettand ngl'^'^et"'"'' ^' '^^' they became very ^cuTLaT C^ '^S'^'^' *•>«" of piety. NatuTaiTyley^t °u, \rLurn:-- v.ew of NatchefTs diagnosis. He thank d he?f'" her concern and bade her bv »1I m ■"*"''^'' her for What was the stuff of k"'^°^'"' P^ay- behind the words ? n! I k. ^'^^^^-the stuiT husband's lit^ Nn H J°u ' '*'* ^'""^^ ^°' her weU-befng. Ver.Oikl S ' ^'^^'^ '"' ^'^ =°"'s S- Verj hkely she even prayed that she I9i t I I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. might not be led into temptation, or to do anything wrong, by her love for her son ; for it was her theory that the Prince himself would ruin his own chances and throw the Crown away. It is not easy always to be sure of conscious insincerity. Yet the devil's advocate would have had small difficulty in placing a fresh face on her pra. ers, in exhibiting what lay below the words, in suggesting how it was that she came forth from her secret devotions not happy and tranquillised, but with weary eyes and her narrow lips close-set in stern self-control. Her prayer that she might do nothing wrong was a prayer that the Prince might do nothing right. If that prayer wtr^ granted, sin on her part would become superfluous. She prayed not to be led into temptation— that sounded quite orthodox; was she to presume to suggest to Heaven the means by which temptation should be avoided ? Stenovics skilfully humoured this shade of hypo- crisy. When he spoke to her, there were in his mouth no such words as plans, or schemes, or hopes, or ambitions — no, nor claims, nor rights. It was always "the possibilities we are compelled to contemplate "—" the steps we may be forced into taking"— "the necessities of mere self- defence "—" the interests of the kingdom "—" the supreme evil of civil strife"— which last most respectable phrase meant that it was much better to jockey the Prince out of his throne than to fight him for it. Colonel Stafnitz bit his lip and X96 COUNTESS ELLEN13UKG PRAYS. anything er theory I chances y always ad small •avers, in iggesiing it secret >ut with in stern I nothing light do I, sin on 5 prayed ed quite Heaven ivoided ? jf hypo- i in his mes, or ■ rights, impelled t forced e self- '— "the t most I better :han to lip and gnawed his moustache during these interviews. The Countess saw-and hated him. She turned back to Stenovics' church- going phrases and impassive face. Throughout the whole affair the General probably never once mentioned to her in plain language the one and only object of all their hopes and efforts. In the result business took rather longer to transact-the church-going phrases ran to many syllables; but concession? must be made to piety. Nor was the Countess so singular; we should often forgo what we like best if we were obliged to define it accurately and aloud. After one of these conferences the Countess always prayed ; it may be presumed that she prayed against he misfortune of a cast-iron terminolo^.' ProLbly bnot! r^'^ \'' views-for prayer is in many books and mouths more of an argument than I pehtion-that all marriages were on one and the same footing, and that Heaven knew naught of a particular variety named in some countries contrary to the presumed views of Heaven we are foolZ\ I'f Churches-and sometimes States to^are apt to know or count nothing. Such were the woman and her mind. Some pity may go out to her. In the end, behind all ^her prayers and inspiring them-nay, driving her to her Knees in fear-was the conviction that she risked her soul When she felt that, she pleaded that it was for her son's sake. Yet there lay years between 197 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. her son and man's estate; the power was for someone clunng those years. T 'u^ / ^^^ ^^^ Countess's viows and temperament, 1 should grow potatocs-and, if possible, grow them worse than my neighbours," said Colonel Stafnitz. If I lived dully, I should at least die in peace ! " The Kmg held a very confidential conference. It was to sigv his will. The Countess was there ; the little boy. who moved in happy unconsciousness of all the schemes which centred round him, was sent into the next room to play with Lepage. Stenovics and Stafnitz were present as witnesses, and Markart as secretary. The King touched lightly on his state ot health, and went on to express his conviction of the Prince of Slavna's distinguished consideration for Countess Ellenburg and fraternal affection for ittle Alexis. " I go the happier for being sure of this, gentlemen." he said to his two counsellors. But in any case the Countess and my son are well secured. There will be enough for you. Charlotte, to live in suitable style, here or abroad, as you please. My son I wish to stay here and enter my army. I Ve settled on him the estate of Dobrava, and he will have means equal to his station. It's well to have this arranged; from day to day I am in the hands of God." As with another King, nothing in life became him like the leaving of it. There was little more work to do-he had but to wait with courage and with dignity. The demand now was on what he had in Z98 COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS. lacked He signed the document and bade the General and S.afnitz witness it. In silence they d^r , T' T'T'"^ '° ""'^^ waste-paper of the thing to wh.ch they set their names. happj ,n the doing of it (even Stafnit^ had frowned) -the King turned suddenly to Stenovics. I should like to see Baroness Dobrava. Pray let her be sent for this afternoon." cZ^'J^"!"^ -7"", '"'''^™' '='" S'-^-'o^'^s' answer came steady, if slow. " Your Majesty desires her presence ? " rl/n ^ ""'^"u *.° ^^'"""^ ^'^' °"'' ^^^^"' Stenovics. She's done much for us." former."''"™''' '' "°' " ^'^^''"' ^''' ''"' ' =^n =end "Not in Slavna ? Where is she, then ? " him^'lf'^V'.''^' "'" ^^"^^ '''"Sdom knew. Save aZts "^ ^ ^ •'''" '^"°''*"' °^ ^"Pl'y'^ "here. Prisbk Sir"" qt"'"-*° *"' ^°>'^' "'•Sl'"^=s at neuttal^^'ty"" """"" ™"=^ "" ^ '"^P" of his"vo.":^'''"°"'^^""'=«'" Surprise sounded in added"'"Th^fr'? '' "'"* *°°' S'>." Stenovics ?h. ^ 1 Y ^*'' ''*™ l^^" *"e during nearly the whole of the Prince of Slavna's stay." ^ ihe Kmg shot a glance at Countess Ellenburg; '09 S^KS!i*?::#«»te*m, SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. I'll ' ,1 II 1 She was looking prim and grim. He looked also at Stafnitz, who bit his moustache, without quite hiding an mtentiona but apparently irrepressible smile. The King did not look too grave-and most of his gravity was for Countess Ellenburg. ^ " Is that— hum— at this moment quite desirable ' " he asked. His question met with silence; the air of all three intimated that the matter was purely one for His Majesty. The King sat a moment with a frown on his brow-the frown which just supplants a smile when a thing, generally amusing and not unnatural happens by chance to occur inconveniently. ' Across this silence came a loud voice from the next room-Lepage's voice. « Take care, take care ! You 11 upset the flowers, Prince ! " The King started ; he looked round at his com- panions. Then he struck a handbell on the table before him. Lepage appeared. " Lepage, whom did you address as ' Prince ' iust now?" •' "Count Alexis, sir." "Why?" "The Count insisted." " Don't do it again. It 's absurd ! Go away " T -^ l""" 'f. ^^^""^^^ Countess Ellenburg's cheeks. Lids brooded low over the eyes of Stafnitz and of Stenovics. It was a ver)' awkward little scene-the King's irritation had got the better of him for the moment. What would the kindred of the exalted 20O I ked also at uite hiding smile. The his gravity esirable ? " F all three e for His frown on s a smile unnatural from the ake care ! his com- the table nee ' just >f vay. cheeks. ' and of !ne — the for the exalted ^UNTESS ELLENI3URG PRayS. Princess have said ? The ICJnrr * Ellenburg and forced a smile ^ "^ '° ^°""*^^^ f^t,^^'Z fli^r^j^ - ^r you, Paroness No T S r "* """^ ^'«>"t the wishes have been cL • ''*""='^ '° ^'^ if my Slavna.- =o™n,u„,cated to the Prince of "The Prince has received them s.v it them m the presence nf ™, ' ^« read leave to send h s a'wl^ "-^^^nger, and requested -ait on Your M^esty!" """"^' ""'^^^ ""^ ""ght " There are reasons whv I harl k^^* just now. Ask him to write-but I "°' '"" ''™ matter isn't one for delay " "^ '°''"- ^''^ ''^yI,''^"/-™'' '"" '''^ seat. Dob^r?^"'^ ^"" «-"- ">^ 'o send for Baroness sinS;:'^'""'"' '°' ^ "°"'-»- -d answered alittdTler'tt "'' ''' ^°"'— -'t had Natcheff would ha'" dv^seT'^Th"' ""="""« ^^• wth a smile, all of themlthe m^ T ^'"' "^^^^ nitz, round-faced Markart 1 ^ ^'.="°"'=s. Staf- to the quality of each thi? f ""''"« according von Hollb:^n';ifs shr"; o hetr T'^™^ '° ^af things which bring men J V":°"''^"'^- There are 201 •jaSSL^l'MMmM SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. III'. ih IV often, though it is to be recorded with rehictance, is a strong flirtation with no proper issue obvious. The matter was grave, yet all the men laughed. The matter was grave, and Countess Ellenburg did not laugh. Was that what Stafnitz called her views and her temperament ? In part, no doubt. Besides, men will laugh at the side-issues of the gravest affairs; it is not generally the case with women. Added again to this, perhaps Countess Ellenburg knew more or divined more. Amongst glaring diversity ' there was perhaps something — an atom — of similarity between her and Sophy — not the something which refuses, but the something which couples high conditions with assent. The thousandth chance is to most men negligible; to most women it is no worse than the tenth; their sense of mathematical odds is sorely — and some- times magnificently — imperfect. It had flashed across Countess Ellenburg's mind that maybe Sophy too played for a big stake — or, rather, lived for it and so would die. The men had not thought of that; to them the violent flirtation had its obvious end and its passing incon- venience. It might delay the Prince's departure for awhile; it might make his marriage more entirely an affair of duty and of state. With this idea they smiled and shrugged; the whole business came under the head which in their thoughts and their confidential conversations they would style nonsense. 202 It was not so with the Countess. Disconcerted by that episode of Lepage and young Alexis, more moved by the sudden appearance of Baroness Dobrava as a factor in the game, she returned to prayer. What now was the form and matter of her prayer? The form must go unformulated— and the words unconjectured. Yet she prayed so long that she must have succeeded in putting a good face on her petitions. Without a plausible plea no woman could have rested on her knees so long It is probable that she prayed for others as she prayed for herself-she prayed that the Prince of Slavna and the Baroness Dobrava might escape temptation. ^ Or that if they fell ? Again it was not for her to dictate to Heaven. Heaven had its ways ot dealing with such sinners. Yet through all her prayers must have echoed the words: "It's absurd!" She prayed again, most hkely against being suspected of wishing that the man who uttered them-her husband-might soon be dead. ^ . Tl!" ^i"g ^^^^-and the Prince a slave to love- to the idle hours of an unprofitable love! It was 203 fi 1 hli 41 ii y' i i'iniiir i 11; i»5 i m CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET. TH E Prince of Slavna's answer to the intimation of his father's wishes was dutiful, courteous, and discreetly diplomatic. The Prince was much occupied with his drills and other occupations ; he availed himself of Max von Hollbrandt's practised pen — the guest was glad to do his royal host this favour. They talked over the sense of the reply; Max then drafted it. The Prince did no more than amend certain expressions which the young diplo- matist had used. Max wrote that the Prince cordially sympathised with the King's wishes; the Prince amended to the effect that he thoroughly understood them. Max wrote that the Prince was prepared cordially and energetically to co-operate in their realisation ; the Prince preferred to be prepared to consider them in a benevolent spirit. Max suggested that two or three months* postponement of the suggested journey would not in itself be fatal ; the Prince insisted that such a delay was essential in order that negotiations might be set on foot to ensure his being welcomed with due einprcssement i04 Mav THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET. ntimation courteous, rince was upations ; practised host this )ly ; Max lore than ng diplo- e Prince shes; the loroughly rince was )perate in prepared it. Max ponement be fatal ; ;sential in to ensure «/. Max added that the later date would have an incidental advantage, since it would obviate the necessity of the Prince's interrupting the important labours on which he was engaged; the Prince said instead that m his judgment it was essential in the interests of the kingdom that the task of training the artillery should not be interfered with by any other object, however well worthy of consideration that object might be. In the result the draft as amended, though not less courteous or dutiful than Max's original, was noticeably more stiff. Translate them both into the terse and abrupt speech of every-day life, and one said : " I'd rather not just now, please," while the other came at least very near to a blank " I won't ! " Max's was acquiescence coupled with a prayer for postponement; the Prince's was postponement first, with an accompanying assurance of respectful con- sideration. Max was not hurt, but he felt a professional disapproval ; the Prince had said more, and shown more of his mind, than was needful ; it was throwin- more cards on the table than the rules of the game demanded. " Mine would have done just as well," he com- plained to Marie Zerkovitch. " If mine had been rejected, his could have followed. As it is he's wasted one or other of them. Very foolish,' since just now time 's his main object 1 " He did not mean saving time, but protractiiig it. ■ lii aoj *«&**•,•*«..•, SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Mane did no more than toss her head peevishly The author of the original draft persevered. " Don't you think mine would have been much wiser-— to begin with ? " "I don't see much difference. There's little enough truth in either of them ! " she snapped. Max looked at her with an amused and tolerant smile. He knew quite well what she meant. He shook his head at her with a humorous twinkle. Oh, come, come, don't be exacting, madame ! There s a very fair allowance of truth. Quite half the truth, I should think. He is really very anxious about the gunners ! " "And about what else?" Max spread out his hands with a shrug, but passed the question by. " So much truth, in fact. hat It would have served amply for at least two letters, he remarked, returning to his own special point of complaint. Marie might well amuse the easy-going yet observant and curious young man; he loved to watch his fellow-creatures under the stress of feelings from which he himself was free, and found in the opportunities afforded him in this line the chief interest both of his life and of his profession. But Mane had gradually risen to a high nervous tension. She was no puritan-puritans were not common in Kravonia, nor had Paris grafted such a slip on to her nature. Had she thought as the men m the Palace thought when they smiled, had she 206 THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET. d peevishly, 'ered. been much lere's little lapped, nd tolerant ■neant. He us twinkle. . madame ! Quite half ery anxious shrug, but th, in fact, least two wn special going yet loved to of feelings md in the the chief ision. :h nervous were not ed such a s the men , had she bought that .nd no more, it is scarcely likely that she would have thus disturbed herself! After aU out /T "' ^'""'"y '«^'^d ^= in some sense ^^^io^fsit^:^:^: S ^r;-. :t £; f'i^^ Z dtTdTg da7thtp1r "d Sophy drew closer together fZ^ 1. It ^"^ once sa.ed his hfe couCw nf lotg It^^J:^ doleful prepossession. Unusual 1a f , . f ^ things take colour from the mTnd of th^ °^''^''" the strange train of events :hrcrhad irCh; St^ive°ZSZr-^--'— ~ HerXlotL^:^ prfofgti;; --- neve tho„^,,„, " -s th'e greaftim 'of ^r ^fe Her reehngs, while not less spontaneous and f t' Casimu de Savres poured his love at her fee f cry of happmess almost lyrical runs thr„ l .. scanty record of these days-there wi k I I "' for diary or letters ^ '^'^"'■e ' ' •'^ ^^^^ lunger, yet were far too 207 i 'W I i ;■»!,: l!fi if 11 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. short. To ride with him to Volseni, to hear the cheers, to see the love they bore him, to watch him at work, to seem to share the labour and the love- then to shake off the kindly clinging friends and take to a mountain-path, or wander, the reins on the horses' necks, by the margin of the lake, and come home through the late dusk, talking often, silent often, always together in thought as in bodily presence— was not this enough ? " If I had to die in a month, I should owe hfe a tremendous debt already "—that is her own summing up; it is pleasant to remember. It would be enough to say— love; enough with a nature ardent as hers. Yet with love much else conspired. There was the thought of what she had done, of the things to which she was a party; there was the sense of power, the satis- faction of ambition, a promise of more things- there was the applause of Volseni as well as the devotion of the Prince ; there was too— it persisted all through her life— the funny, half-childish, and (to a severe eye) urchinlike pleasure in the feeling that these were fine doings for Sophy Grouch of Morpmgham in Essex! "Fancy me!" is the in- defensibly primitive form in which this delight shows in one of the few letters bearing date from the Castle of Praslok. Yet it is possible to find this simple gracious surprise at Fortune's fancies worthy of love. Her own courage, her own catching at Fortune's fore- 208 M.^ hear the /atch him he love — and take s on the md come jn, silent n bodily id to die ous debt 3; it is igh with iuch else /hat she was a le satis- things ; 1 as the persisted ish, and ; feeling ouch of the in- delight te from gracious e. Her s's fore- "// / *^ . .. ,. « „^a.^^„ „^ ,^^ ^ ^^^,,^^_^- '1; itii i c n t( a Ja in la so br so lai hii t sin tra the Voj THE SOUND OP A TRU^TPr.T. iociv, seem to have bc-n oPvivc . insr.nctive. These s,':"/^'''> . ""^"'^^^c.ons and 1 ■ni^i>c siie never hinis nf n^- begins to annlvse. Of her love for he P 'T SiK.,:.3 once or taice-and nZ ■ c '™ '''''-■ she l,,-,d fel, for C?si„,ir ° '." T^""" '=> ""at he Icf, me, and when h.' died ' "" ""'' "l^™ him no, less now bjcn,, 3 , ; ^,; '"''■ " ' '-e can iove Monsei,„e„r more f^rh I rSc.''"' ' God bade the dear dead die but hI h , ""• and death helped to teach t 1 o v "0 do i '■ "1 ""' she reflec:s : " How won', ,fnll> u- ^^'"" '^■Ink-even sorrows i","' ^™'">'"''"g is worii - the very ne" ,T: ,he s S tof ',' ''"''"°''- comes the naive outburst "t "1 •'",'^°'''''* my sheepskin tunic-an 1 he J ^"" '^^'"'^'"^ '" toy of a revolver ,h„r *'"'" "'= ""= sweetest and t.y and cut i',, k I," '"'' •'^^>' ^^'^^ char<;e, iiy ana cut us up behind our iruns 1 •• ci ■ augh.ng at herself, but the lough schTr'n I' " infectious eniovmenl t;„ u '^"'"^Sed with an laughed throigr h te ultne "d'' "''"'■ """ soothe Marie Zerkovitch h. ! ?^''* *'>''"« *° h-dt givin, her ™:^lt""^L™i„^'TerT "°"- soul wholly to her Prince •■ Sh„ rf '^"""'"6 'arly able and cnerge.rs' mbea,^ J"' '"^^ =" ^'"S"- himself obviously n^t^nrcrdby'tV:^"''^' The Pr nce'q mm^ • . attractions. sincereabo hisgnt he'h'n'"''''-.''^ "^= ""'^'^ travels until thev h'n' , . "° ^''^ '° 6° °" his them into the sai culdv'! h'"' "" '=™''' '^^'i™' Volsenians and tfTuk*!'.'!.'''""^'' -<< '™sty Lukovitch their captain. Less 16 209 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ■feii ■ ii^ than that was not safety, with Stenovics in office and Colonel Stafnitz on duty at the capital. But Marie Zerkovitch was right too, even though over-exactine as Max had told her. The letter to the King held but half the truth, and that half not the more significant. He could not go from Sophy's side to seek a wife. The desire of his heart and the delight of his eyes— she was here in Praslok. Her charm was not only for his heart and eyes, her fascination not solely for his passion. On his intellect also she laid her powerful hold, opening the narrow confines of his mind to broader views and softening the rigour of his ideals. He had seen himself only as the stern master, the just chastiser of a turbulent capital and an unruly soldiery. But was there not a higher aim ? Might he not be loved in the plains as on the hills, at Slavna as at Volseni ? By himself he could not achieve that ; his pride- nay, his obstinacy— forbade the first step. But what his sensitive dignity rejected for himself, he could see her sunny graciousness accomplish without loss of self-respect, naturally, all spontaneously. He was a soldier; hers were the powers of peace, of that in- stinctive statesmanship of the emotions by which hearts are won and kingdoms knit together by a tie stronger than the sword. Because in his mind's eye he saw her doing this, the idea at which the men in the Palace had smiled, and which even Marie Zerkovitch would have accepted as the lesser evil, never came into his head. In the future years she 210 ■t ■ !i«l she not be a be ", ^^ 'T "" '■'''°"- Would whom be muse go cap 1'^]" T' ^'^''"eer, to would be a place of LI f','° *'''°'" "^'^ <=°"n"y half barbarianrwhose ff^ i'l"""'--^'"^" =eem l<'ng tale of fore d a„d u„ n- *""■ "°"'^ l-^ ""e A pride more subtle than h,s / 7' • ""'^^""^■'°" ? If he could mil e th! .- ''"'^''' '"^^ ■'" revolt, the difficulty Rth t ^he' "' 'Yl' ^■'^^ ^'-d was the one' hingt' Ih ch tle^ ""' '"''"« ''°P'= pride of (amily-the Je at ,1b-, "^'"S '"listed. The whereon the easy Kif. 1 " "T'''^ ='"«'« P°i« •■•hie! Yet had he "^ ^ e/"he ''"m f '°""'''- no such lover as ' ,,J ' ^^ ™"'<1 have been Tj. >vas. rtis answer had ffonc tn ff,« t/- news of its receptfon y t Buf "^\^" "^^ "° 'n the evening, La^ \fj:„ ^"* °" *^« "ext day, forwarded by Zerkovth ^ ''""' ^'°"^ ^^^^"^ Prince's aff4 tt^e^^'vt^p"" " ^'""^^ °^ ^^^ into th.. dming.room in thX^:Z%'::r ,'T'' Sophy sat alone. He se^rr..7 f u r""^' ^^^^e excitement, almost boyish nhf f "^ ^-^"^Phant "foments that hesitations ar.f ^ "' ^' '' '' ^"^^ reserves broken down '^°"'" ^"^ ^^^ iast "My guns!" he cripH «« x^ started on their way. Thev 'fe^d^""' ' ''^'^>"^« a month! " ^ ^^^ '^ ^"^ ^n Siavna in "in a month!" sHp r«„ then- ?" "® murmured softly. "Ah, 211 ! t »•: I 1 ■ ( - * II f'! 1 i.ura| ^ j • Ji^H i §>i . i^^H ^'E ^W^^U 1 lij^l |, k c KH|||fl !i ^' i ^BI^^H SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 1 I "Our company will be ready too. We'll march down to siavna and meet the U ! " He L X Oh I 11 be very pleasant to Slavna now-ju , as Z I « ^ "^ "P '° ''«'■ *nd laid his hand on hers. "You've done this for me," he said sm_,hng st.ll, yet growing more grave. ''' It 11 be the end of this wonderful time, of this our time together ! " rl°^ °Zu'"'" ^' P-^^lok-not of our time to- gether. What, won't Lieutenant Baroness Dobrava march with her battery?" She smiled doubtfully, gently shaking her head. Perhaps! But when we get to Slavna ? Oh I m sorry that this time's so nearly done!" makmg perhaps a last quick calculation, undergoing perhaps a last short struggle. But the Red Star g owed agamst the pallor of her face; her eyes were gleammg beacons. "Neither the guns, nor the men, nor Slavna-no, nor he Crown, when that time comes- without you! he said. She rose slowly, tremblingly, from her chair and stretched out her hands in an instinctive protest : Mons^gneur!" Then she clasped her hands, settmg her eyes on his, and whispering again yet lower : ** Monseigneur ! " ^ o j T " ^f "\^f ^'^^o^itch says fate sent you to Kravonia. 1 think she s right. Fate did~my fate. I think 222 i- THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET. it -s^ fated that we a.e to be together to the end, wat Zi::tLT: t' ^'^"■=- "-« ^-^-itch The door of tCdin nT '°°"' °" "'^ ^°o<^ above. of them hea d ,h tfp ° h ""' °'^"' >"" "^'■"- the sound passed unheeded ' ""' ^"^™==^''' -" bou:rd^rhl'\Te:p„'le"'^^""^'^=p^<^•--^^^-=''« stood by thedoora^d hJd'r''"^ Marie Zerkovitch be.e.LeinaZr:Xr™rfrSat"""^=' of it! 1 rer.:t::v/ "• v^^ '"'-i -«"". has just come to ml "Her": "^. 'T^''^ ''' ^^ of entreaty, whether it we" to"\ °°' °" " "°'« unseen Power which rnleT h ,• ^ '° =""-= sHe m^ht have told:r1„tc:ttr"'^ " -•^'='' long";: iLi^nru'ward'^'-r'^''-^-- ^^« -^ -•n a confidence ^^void ! ' doubT °Sh '""""""' seek for the whole truth and^n • '"'"'^'^ '° gravest fullest words ^'"^ " '° ''™ » Iife'witho'ut\?ow"'""'" ="' =''"^- "^ -n't see her" -n':!""' "'= "-"^ -<» very slowly she laid en:ih\rSno" m"tr ^^^ ^°""' "- "- said gently. "Unle - ' 1 '"" "^ '° yo"." he can be no'^lifo for „";:;-"" " '°«^'^"' ' ''"'"^ '' 213 SOPHY OF KRAVCxNiA. 'What do you mean?" she cried. "What do you mean ? Are you mad ? " ° He was very fond of little Marie. He looked down at her now with an affectionate i^duS "Come, you've heard what I said, I suppose- though It wasn't meant for your ears JZl , "W*:.!! <-i,^« T • . ^ ^^^^> Jou know! Wel^ then I mean just what I said, Marie." Sophy passed a hand across her brow. A slow smUe reheved the enchanted tension of her W herself. Her answer to Marie came vague and almost dreamy "I-I thought of nothing, dear rf\ f'V^I'^' *™ ^'"' ^ ="dden low murlur Princlf '' '''"f'- ^l-^ '-d her hands inT of th^t IfT" .^^' ^^ "'°"°'''' °f ""'hing but of that life together and thei- love. " She '11 share my life, Marie, and, when the time comes, my throne," the Prince said softly; he trSd to persuade and soothe her witl, his gentle tones. Mane Zerkovitch would not have it. Possessed by her old fear, her old foreboding, she Hung awj 214 THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET. i^eikoviich d into the agitation, What do e looked indulgent uppose — u know! sisted, in e turned n by it, A slow er face; prise at ue and g, dear nurmur in the ng but le time e tried es. ssessed ; away the arm she held with an angry gesture. "It's rum sheened. " Ruin, ruin ! " Her voice r"n. Castle of Praslok with its dirgeful note. No, said he firmly. " Rui„ will not come through me nor through her. It may be that ruT what you call ruin-will come. It' may be hlt"7 shal lose my life or my throne." He smi'ed a new ;„ , c ? '■''"^f "'"' '='«"'«s come as nothing IZn ; T7' l"- ' ''^™ ^'^™' ""-d bold men agam e. Let them try! We'll try too But "itwe;!,!^:?^''"^"""^"'-"^'^'^ ^ It It were, don t I owe her my life already? Should I refuse to risk for her the life she has given ? " He dropped hrs voice to homelier, more familia tones and ended, with a half laugh: "Come, little frie"d Ts b"e«er the% '" 'T? '^^^'"^ S'«f-°^'^h' laSyoVkLwr '"""" *"' *^" '- - - » wen^as tour^ "°' P"'^^'""'"- ™= wisdom as wen as courage m question. Yet he would have tTTn M ™''" '° ^ "S"' '" P°»' °f wisdom too, had Mane pressed him on it. But her forc^ «as spent: her violence ended, and with it her expostulations, but not her terror and dismay. She threw herself into a chair and covered her fece with her hands, sobbing bitterly. bu?^''h/""''!, ^r*'^ ""^^'^'^ ^" ^I-^king shoulder; $utt\\Sthtcrr°^-^--''°^--- ai5 ■wiiiii I' '; II. • 'I Jf SOPJIY OF KHAVONIA. " Monsclgncur, I am ready," she said with head erect and her face set. But the next instant she broke mto a low yet rich and rin^^ang iai-h • it mingled strangely with Marie's sobs, which' were gradualh^ dying away, yet sounded still, an under- tone of discord with Sophy's mirth. She stretched out he^r hands towards him again, whispering in an amused p.ty: 'M^oor child-she thought that we should be afraid ! " & wc Out from the dusk of the quiet evening came suddenly the blare of a trumpet, blown from Volsen! by a favourmg breeze. It sounded every evening at nightfall to warn the herdsmen in the hills of the closing of the gates, and had so sounded from time beyond man's memory. The Prince raised his hand to bid her listen. ^^ ^ In good Volseni there is watch and ward for The echoes of the blast rang for an instant round the hills. "And there is watch and waiJ, and the glad sound of a trumpet, in my heart, Monseigneur," she The sobs were still, laughter was hushed, the echoes died away. In utter silence their hands and laeir c)os met Only in their hearts love's clarion rang aidomitable and marvellously glad. 2l6 pl^y? he with head nstant she lauyh; it hich were an under- stretched "ing in an that we ing came n Volseni evening at Is of the rom time ten. ward for nt round the glad iur," she led, the mds and > clarion CIIAPTKR XL M. ^EKKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE. Qc fi 6=' we care nothing, save qo fir ^'■shes or .Ltrrsr/fie Ti '"'"■"»" "^ - of our clothes H„m """"S ^"^ '"'ding described or cLjecred 'or' /"' "'""^"P''"^ ''-' those who wait on us 7nvV """'=^'"«^d the world of -ay appear to the inC '"fe "of T"''"'' ''^ - so obediently cast down l*" f ^ ^^'^' "'''<='' "^ alert to antidpa" ou^rde^ fVs"" ", ^" ""''f-''^- the invitation ; the task cf " ''"''' "<= decline unnecessary. Enough t' f °"'" *'''^"="'t "nd of the eyS have efr anT'^'f •''^' *^ °*»-s ;eak,le/„nstanched wilTLr't f"' ^ ='"^" Jast; it is well to keen t L "^ ^- ^''«'^^' "^ask at concerns and in affairs on ,M- "'"'^ ''""^ "" P"-ate The K,-n.r'= >, 7 P"'''"= magn tude. -J pr.f„ Lii™ " "» "■■» of .h, „„„ 217 '■i .V SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. than His Majesty was wont to trouble himself to administer; he had been very strong on the utter folly of putting such ideas into the boy's head Lepage was pretty clear that the idea had come from the boy's nead into his, but he said nothing more of that. The boy himself scolded Lepage-- first for having been overheard ; secondly (and, as Lepage guessed, after being scolded himself very roundly) for using the offending title at all. Meekly Lepage bore this cross also -indeed with some amusement and a certain touch of pity for young Alexis, who was not a prince and obviously could not make out why: in the oooks a king's sons were always princes, even though there were (as in those glorious days there often were) fifty or three- score of them. Then Countess Ellenburg scolded him : the King's It s absurd ! " was rankling soi .ly in her mind. Her scolding was m her heaviest manner-very religious: she called Heaven to witness that never by word or deed had she done anything to give her boy such a notion. The days are gone by when Heaven made overt present answer; nothing happened! She roundly charged Lepage with fostering the idea for his own purposes ; he wanted to set the Prince of Slavna against his little brother, she supposed, and to curry favour with the rising sun at the poor child's cost. She was very effective, but she angered Lepage almost beyond endurance. By disposition he was 218 M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE. himself to the utter 3y's head, had come d nothing Lepage — ' (and, as iself very Meekly ith some or young sly could ig's sons xe (as iiA or three- le King's nd. Her eligious : word or y such a en made 1 ! She idea for rince of 1, and to r child's Lepage he was pretty boy for h s if „S -Tr l' t'"""^ '"« absurd. He snapped back sm T ^"^ °*°"^ ="><* nobody will do mmt* ^"'^rtly at her: "I hope than lU,tne!Madlruri.:f:V"f 'P' signal. ^ ^' ^^^^ ' *"'«« brain jumped at the Finally Stenovicf- him«»If i,.j , much-lectured Lepacre r , "^ ' ''''"■•" '" ^^ cuiations to whirh t'n °"" °' "'^ "i^^l- prone. Ste..o:icrta:"ge ;r;-:nd"" -^"""'"^ '= he was very urgent-^rfrnfK <=°ns.derate, but should be Taid about th' epitr '"'''^' "°«""g n- about the other r^ri^X' In"" ^'?"' '' silence was his burden '^ i^""^- Silence, silence, •nore. It is better ,!' ^ ^ ^* """"Sht more and give the idea thaUheL't?^"''' ^°^='P '^an to offence. Peonle II j 1°'"P «'°"'<1 ^e a serious come and gonf efsv sVT-^°"' ""'"'''"S- '''^ ea"; ^- -inge^nt" i^Snf :i tf t^ /°^^'="'"«' "ake men think. References tn ^k ^ ^ ^^^ '° also, may breed reflect on i„ I ^ "''"^ sun, y S^ turn tnac thmg to account ? 219 !'? * SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. The King's favourite attendant was no favourite with Countess Ellenburg. For Lepage too the time might be very short! He would not injure the boy, as the angry mother had believed, or at least suggested; but, without question of that, there was no harm in a man's looking out for himself; or if there were, Lepage was clear in thinking that the Countess and the General were not fit preachers of such a highly exacting gospel. Lepage concluded that he had something to sell. His wares were a suspicion and a fact. Selling the suspicion wronged nobouy — he would give no warranty with it—Caveat emptor. Selling the fact was disobedience- to the King his master. "Dis- obedience, yes; injury, no," said Lepage with a bit of casuistr}'. Besides, the King too had scolded him. Moreover the Prince of Slavna had always treated M. Emile Lepage with distinguished consideration. The Bourbon blood, no doubt, stretched out hands to la belle France m M. Lepage's person. Something to sell ! Who was his buyer ? Whose interest cc Id be won by his suspicion, whose friend, ship b( ight with his fact ? The ultimate buyer was plain enough. But Lepage could not go to Praslok, and he did not approve of correspondence, especially with Colonel Stafnitz in practical control of the Household. He sought a go-between— and a per- sonal interview. At least he could take a walk ; the servants were not prisoners. Even conspirators must stop somewhere— on pain of doing their own cooking 220 I t M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE. and the rest ! At a q-artcr past eiffht in i.ie CN'Lviin; '•n- having given the King his dinne- and made hin fortable for the next two hours, Lepage salUc ] ' - i and took the road to Slavna. He was very car. • dressed, wore a flower in his bnrtonhole, and • - dropped a discreet hint about a lady in conversat; ■ n with his peers. If ladies often demand excuses, thev may furnish them too; present seriousness invoked aid trom bygone frivolity. At ten o-clock he returned, still most spruce and orderly, and with a well-satisfied air about him. He had found a purchaser for his suspicion and his fact His pocket was the better lined, and he had received flattering expressions of gratitude and assurances of favour. He felt that he had raised a buttress against future assaults ot fortune. He entered the Kin^^s dressing-room m his usual noiseless and unobtrusive had quitted It just a quarter of an hour before bearing m his hand a document which he had s.b- mitted for His Majesty's signature. The King had signed it and endorsed the cover " Urgeni." ^_j*Ah, Lepage, where have you been? "'asked the GoiieTuon'? ' ''"' "^ ^^' '""' ^ ^^^ ^* ^^^ "You look gayer than that ! " smiled the King Evidently his anger had passed ; perhaps he wished 221 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Conscience-Stricken— or so appearing— Lepage tore the flower from his coat. " I beg Your Majesty's pardon. I ought to have removed it before Ltitering Your Majesty's presence. But I was told you wished to retire at once, Sir, so I hurried here immediately." The Kin'j gave a weary yawn. "Yes, I'll go to bed at once, Lepage ; and let me sleep as long as I can. This fag-end of life isn't very amusing." He passed his hand wearily across his brow. " My head aches. Isn't the room ver>' close, Lepage ? Open the window." " It has begun to rain. Sir." " Never mind, let 's have the rain too. At least it's fresh." Lepage opened a window which looked over the Krath. The King rose: Lepage hastened to offer his arm, which His Majesty accepted. They went together to the window. A sudden storm had gathered ; rain was pelting down in big drops. " It looks like being a rough night," remarked the King. " I 'm afraid it does, Sir," Lepage agreed. " We 're lucky to be going to our beds." "Very, Sir,' answered Lepage, wondering whose opposite fate His Majesty was pitying. '• I shouldn't care, even if I were a young man and a sound one, to ride to Praslok to night." "To Praslok, Sir?" There was surprise in Le- page's voice. He could not help it. Luckily it 222 M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE. page tore Majesty's entering :old you ied here •II go to long as I g." He My head ? Open At least Dver the to offer ey went rm had 5pS. •ked the ; whose lan and In Le- ckily it sounded quite natural to the King. It was certainly not a night to ride five-and-twenty miles, and into the hills, unless your business was very urgent. "Yes, to Praslok. I've had my breath of air— you can shut the window, Lepage." The King returned to the fireplace and stood warming himself. Lepage closed the window, drew the curtains, and came to the middle of the room where he stood in respectful readiness— and, under- neath that, a very lively curiosity. " Yes," said the King slowly, " Captain Markart goes to Praslok to-night— with a despatch for his Royal Highness, you know. Business, Lepage urgent business ! Ever>'thing must yield to that.'' The King enunciated this virtuous maxim as though It had been the rule of his life. « No time to lose Lepage, so the Captain goes to-night. But I'm afraid he'll have a rough ride— very rough." '; I'm afraid so, Sir," said Lepage, and added, strictly in his thoughts: "And so will Monsieur Zerkovitch ! " Captain Markart was entirely of His Majesty's opinion as he set out on his journey to Praslok. His nde would be rough, dark, and solitary— the last by btenovics' order. Markart was not afraid, he was well armed ; but he expected to be very bored, and knew that he would be very wet, by the time he reached the Castle. He breathed a fervent curse on the necessities of State, of which the Minister had mformed him, as he buttoned up his heaw cavalry ^*'>#mimimr SOniY OF KRAVON'IA. f^ overcoat and rode across tlie bridge on to the main road on the right bank an hour before miihii-ht. Going \\as very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and his horse made a blurred Inhouring shape on the murky face of ni.^-ht. l^ut his orders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a shprp trot and soon covered his first stagf the five miles to the old wooden bridge, \\here the road leaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikes north-east towards the hills. At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was not to be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across the bridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse's hoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted a moment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped— but the echo went on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way! He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard the timbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again and went forward briskly. He had no reason to associate his fellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that when General Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learn that his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road. But the stranger too was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could not shake him off. On the contrary he drew nearer. The road was still broad and good'; 224 ^^■i M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a T L x.'^* ^"^ '^^' '^ "^^^'^ ^^^ good time," thought Markart. smiling uneasily. In fact the two ound themselves drawn into a sort of race. On hey went covering the rr.l.,., at a quick sustained trot exhilaratmg to the men, , mt rather a strain on their horses. Both w .rt well r .ounted. Markart wondered who the strange, with such a good horse was. He turned his head, out could see only the same sort of blur as he himself made; part of the blur, however, seemed of a lighter colour than his dark overcoat and bay horse produced. Markart's horse pecked; his rider awoke to the tact that he was pounding his mount without doin^ much good to himself. He would see whether the unknown meant to pass him or was content to keep on equal terms. His pace fell to a gentle trot-so did the stranger's. Markart walked his horse for Malf a mile-so did the stranger. Thenceforward they went easily, each keeping his position, till rl t to D r '° "'r, ^'^ '''^ ^°^^^^— the Ma ka^ .'"'"' °" *^' ^'^' '' ^^^^^°^ ^"^ Volseni. Markart drew rein and waited; he might iust as well see where the stranger wa^ going. ^ ^ The stranger came up— and Markart started violently. The lighter tinge of the blur was t fl !?"?• ./ '*'^"^'' '°^^ ^ ^hite horse. It flashed on Markart that the Prince rode a white charger, and that the animal had been in Slavna the day before-he had seen it bein^ pv.v.ised 11 16 225 lii '^"^^m £sa*!^»fiis*w»iiM«.— Mfl- SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. M''''\ Mil N'l '.! s I .■*' I! He peered into the darkness, trying to see the man's face ; the effort was of no avail The stranger came to a stand beside him, and for a few moments neither moved. Then the stranger turned his horse's head to the left: he was for Praslok or Volseni, then! Markart followed his example. He knew why he did not speak to the stranger, but he was wondering why on earth the stranger did not speak to him. He went on wondering till it occurred to him that perhaps the stranger was in exactly the same state of mind. There was no question of cantering or even of trotting now. The road rose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stones lay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses laboured. At the same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the stranger dismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there before them, in deeper black, rose the gate -tower of the Castle of Praslok. The stranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They were almost opposite the Castle. A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Two more took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubled his re- sponsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with a lantern ; a light flashed in the doorway of the Cabtle. Both Markart and the stranger came to a standstill. The man with the lantern raised it high in thw air, to see the faces of the travellers. 226 M. ZERKOVITCHS BEDROOM FIR:. Si; They saw one another's faces too. The first result was to send them into a fit of laughter-a in o whicT ,'r°;' f "'=°S"'"™ °f 'he absurdity mto wh ch the.r diplomatic caution had lei them. By the powers, Captain Markart! " "Monsieur Zerkovitch, by heaven I " They laughed again. toglfhtr'^ "'^ "''■" ^^''' ^^^ " P'^'^"' ri ^^^ xving Hi!! u'-^f"^"^ ''^'' '^' *'^^"* ^' d°^s"'t think Wis Majesty was ever better in his hfe " witl^' P'7- looked at him for just a moment with a reflective smile. "Ah, and a trustworthy man, Natcheff! Goodnight'" 'wormy Markart did not see much reason to think that the question, th^ lo^k *h- -r-il- ' +1, ' ^^*^' ^"= amiic, ana the comment i^i SOFIIY OF KRAVONIA. had any significance. But there would he no harm in submitting die point to General Stenovics Pondering over this, he forgot to count the Prirce's paces this time. If he had coun-d, the sum would have been just four. M. Zerkcvifrh's fae needed another royal inspection - it needed it aJmoc: tiii the I>reak of day. '' The KiD-'s m, hangs by a hair, and your Crown b. . tkead." That was the warning which Lepage had given, and Zerkovitch had carried through the night. 232 Y'n Id be no Stenovics. the sum itch's fire ^leedeci it and your warning itch had CPIAPTER XII. JOYFUL OF HEART. T^'r^dfanT ^'\r'''^' ^^Y broke calm and ± radiant over the Castle of Praslok • sun ^^^^^^^shme played caressingly on the it';^^^^^^^^ Markart had breakfasted and paid a visit fn V horse; he wanted to be off by "^te o'clock .' waited only for the Prince's toernt returnmg from the stables sniffing h ""^^ with a vivid enjoyment of the 1 T""'"^ ""'' when he saw ^i^h ^^^"^^ °^ weather, vviien ne saw bophy commg alon^ thp r^a^ cu short blue skirt overhlh boot t ' t^.''" though on the clouds of h ''^'^ ^' lightness in her .readfthe Rt/st"; '■ T^"'"' exaltation of her spirit the ,!h "^"f"1 ">« trumpet rang in her'^hel; '"* '°"'"' °' *« rai^e^.To thir? '° ^^'^^ ^^ =P- ? ''""'^'''° ''"^ much ■ "• -.n^ leal situation. But his tong ue 233 '**°""!2i*^; •).■,.!, !■ ,1 a i U 1 *' ft '■ **^^**««'*^- »»«*«►«».«*«, SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. was embarrassed, his eyes spoke freely. He could not keep them from her face; to him she seemed a queen of life and joy that glorious morning. " You 've recovered from your fright ? " she asked. "Poor Monsieur Zerkovitch is still sleeping his off, I suppose! Oh, the story's all over the Castle ! " " It'll be all over the country soon," said Markart with a rueful smile. "Well, after all. Monsieur Zerkovitch is a journalist, and journalists don't spare even them- selves, you know. And you're not a reticent person, are you ? Don't you remember all the information you gave me once ? " "Ah, on the terrace of the H6tel de Paris! Much has happened since then. Baroness." "Much always happens, if you keep your eyes open," said Sophy. "If you keep yours open, nothing happens for me but icoking at them." She laughed merrily ; a compliment never displeased Sophy, and she could bear it very downright. "But if I were to shut my eyes, what would you do then?" He looked doubtfully at her mocking face; she meant a little more than the idle words naturally carried. "I don't think you'll give me the chance of considering, Baroness." He indicated her costume 334 JOYFUL OF HEART. He could e seemed rning. he asked, iping his over the Markart :h is a sn them- reticent all the e Paris I our eyes pens for t never it very t would Lce; she laturally ance of costume with a gesture of his hand. "You've entered the service, I see?" cmtrea tne .JTr;.^^^-'"'" ^^^'^^'^' *^" ^'""S's Service. We are brethren—you serve him too ? " " I have that honour." Markart flushed under her laughmg scrutiny. ^^ "®' quiie^'r^^'V^^"^^'' '" '^°"^^^^ '^'^ ' Well, not quite. I m a gunner, you see." " Minus your guns, at present ' " "Not for long!" She turned round and swept her arms out towards the lake and the hills " It^! ridw'" ' h' f T'^^Hust to go riding, rid ng u^Ju ^^"^^ '^"§^ °"t i° '"erry longing " What prevents you ? " ""S^ng- "My military duties, perhaps. Captain" she answered. "You're luckv--T,^n k '"^7*"' sne don't spoil it by tilnkSr' " " '°"^ "''^■• orders'''"'" °''' "'>' ^""n.ss'. I only obey „>y lad'ijt' jar " *"■'"""« '°° --". even for She looked at him more gravely, for his eyes were on her now with a kmriK, «^ u ^ look. ^* perhaps a remorseful, " Ycoi mean that for me ? » she asked. " But if I too only obr.y my orders ? " "With all my heart I hope they may lead you into no danger," he said. ^ ^ '^^ you 'if Ri I. ;. * { 111 235 ti<\ -it III SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "There 's only one danger lu Jl the world— losing what you love." *' Not, sometimes, gaining it ? " he asked quickly. " Still the only danger would be of losing it again." I* There's hfe too," he remarked with a shrug. ' l'£^^' ^^'"^^ soldiers!" she cried in merry reproof. " That doesn't prevent me from prizing your life. Baroness, in the interests of a world not too rich in what you contribute to it." Sophy looked at him, i subtle merriment in her eyes. " I think, Captain Markart, that, if you were my doctor, you 'd advise me to try— a change of air I Praslok is too exciting, is that it? But I found Slavna — well, far from relaxing, you know ! " " The Kravonian climate as a whole, T^aroness " "Oh, no, no, that's too much!" she interrupted. Then she said : " It 's veiy kind of you— yes, I mean that— and it prob-bly— I lon't know— but probably against your orders. So I thank you. But I can face even the rigour? of Kravonia." She iield out ner hand; he bent and kissed it. "In fact I hadn't the least Hght to say it," he confessed. "Not the least i: jm any point of view. It's your fault, thoug: 3a ness." "Since I'n: party ti crime, I'll keep the secret," she promised with a decidedly kind glance. To Sophy admiration of herself always argued some- thing good in a man; she had none of that ungracious scorn which often disfigures the smile of beauty. She gave a little sigh, followed quirklv h\ 336 3rld — losing id quickly, g it again." a shrug, rry reproof. ? your life, Dt too rich ent in her f you were ige of air ! t I found v!" )ness " iterrupted. es, I mean t probably I can face kissed it. ly it," he t of view. keep the ' glance, led some- ngracious uty. She trrn ^yWMS^mkf^-^^mf ■ f I Sophy burst into a laugh at the dismay on Maykarfs /< 237 ace. JOYFUL OF HEART. ■ I UsrjiS^r, i**?*' you Tnd I 1 r '^''""y ''" "> °°« -o'her, nowi"o dutv"" Sh "' '=.°"'''' ^"''"P^' And CasJe. P°'"'^^ '° ">" "^""f of the wa^'He'^r """' T'"^ '^°^" '^' ^°°<^™ ^ause- S 1, r" "" ^°'=™' sheepskins. In his hand he earned a sealed letter. Almost at the same s'abTs Ti^T '«:^.M-'=^rt'^ horse from the stables. The Prince jomed them, and, after a bow to Sophy, handed the letter to Markart. -ss!°:to'cenri;e„ot-sP^°"— "--^ "Accurately, sir." "Good!" He gave Markart his hand. "Good- bye—a pleasant ride to vou r^nfain i than last night's " ^l Captam-pleasanter smile. ' ^'^""^ ^^^^ '^'•°ke into a this time:t1'"^ ^---^erkovitch's company thpT^f; "°' ^^P*^^"- Y°" s^^' Zerkovitch left Sht^ y ; bTh:'^^ '"^ °'^'• ^^*^- ^ ^^o^ ixigut, yes, but he was m a hurry " Captain Markart, did^l^ ?"^he"ri . ''••^VVSt if our Royal Highness gives me leavi= 3» stammered Markart, his eye'on his ho r^-' Win r:^' .Sr„: Z^ "^ --'' '»- j^ -ompcinsons. Zerkovitch 237 ■■J'C^- ^. „ A:4 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. General doesn't propose to report himself to Stenovics immediately on his arrival." Good-natured Markart joined in the laugh at his own expense. " I 'm hardly awake yet; he must be made of iron, that Zerkovitcn ! " "Quicksilver!" smiled the Prince. As Markart mounted he added: *' Au revoir!" Markart left the two standing side by side— the Prince's serious face lit up with a rare smile, Sophy's beauty radiant in merriment. His own face fell as he rode away. "I half wish I was in the other camp," he grumbled. But Stenovics' power held him— and the fear of Stafnitz. He went back to a work in which his heart no longer was; for his heart had felt Sophy's spell. "You can have had next to no sleep all night, Monseigneur," said Sophy in reproach mingled with commiseration. " I don't need it ; the sight of your face refreshes me. We must talk. Zerkovitch brought news." In low grave tones he told her the tidings, and the steps which he and Zerkovitch had taken. "I understand my father's reasons for keeping me in the dark; he meant it well, but he was blinded by this idea about my marriage. But I see too how it fitted in with Stenovics' ideas. I think it 's war between us now— and I 'm ready." Sophy was almost dazed. The King's life was not to be relied on for a week— for a day — no, not for an hour ! But she listened attentively. Zerko- 238 JOYFUL OF HEART. to his ear. nn^ ^formation which came to .llh ' I ^"^ impressions which he was ablp to gather in the Pa]ari^ 7 \ •. , ^"^^ the reports to PraJr' ^"1=°" '='' "-""'d forward Prince'remail°ed the Se tS 1° p"? ^^ '"^ persuaded that his father tuldL*tf!sTt7" h.m now that he knew the true s"l : The case' My father is really attached to me " he 1 Jh " !; n. iimr ot my suspicions w th re^rrl \r^\\. Countess and Stenovics would do ft ^ b„t 1 1 -i:'hr;i:fri7a,ir ^°"-'' ^* ^'-- afrl""stetovlc: 't? ^'"T" ^"^ ' '" "<" -^'' I don't thinkLy fl ^° ""^^ ™"' "'^' l-"' Slavnalshan-ttalot o""'''""'"™- ^"^ '° us, Sophy. We'have news orth.™"'" .""' ^° "'"' way; there will be nothi^li ^""' ""'"S °" ">« the gunners down o mtm r'^h" "' "r.''"^ trained, even in driU but X • T '' ""'^ ''""■ We '11 take „n „ ^y ™ '"■*™ fellows. Tower.'1%I, "fS sl™'* f/r ?" '"'^™-'^ 1. 1 .^^1^^ ouieimans 239 iiji J, n ..'■?»■ m i!' H SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. iw: Tower with three hundred Volseriians. Stafnitz may do his worst ! " " Yes, I see," she answered thoughtfully. " I can't come with you to Suleiman's Tower, though." "Only if there are signs of danger. Then you and Marie must come ; if all is quiet, you can stay in her house. We can meet often— as often as possible. For the rest we must wait." She saw that they must wait. It was impossible to approach the King on the matter of Sophy. It cut dead at the heart of his ambition ; it would be a shock as great as the discovery of Countess Ellenburg's ambitions. It could not be risked. " But if under Stenovics' influence the King does refuse to see you ? " she asked—" Refuses to see you and repeats his orders ? " The Prince's face grew very grave; but his voice was firm. "Not even the King— not even my father— can bid me throw away the inheritance which is mine. The hand would be the King's, but the voice the voice of Stenovics. I shouldn't obey; they'd have to come to Volseni and take me." Sophy's eyes kindled. " Yes, that 's right ! " she said. " And for to-day ? " " Nothing will happen to-day— unless, by chance, the thing which we now know may happen any day ; and of that we shouldn't hear till evening. And there 's no drill even. I sent the men to their homes on forty-eight hours' furlough yesterday morning." 240 > '- '-hy. It. ould be ountess ked. ng does see you is voice 3r — can 3 mine, ice the 'd have ! " she :hance, ly day ; And homes rning." cTn It '"'rf-^ '" " '""'=• "I think to-day v^e can have a holiday, Sophy." ^ She dapped her hands in glee "Oh M„n„- neur, a holiday ! " ^ ' ^""seig. " It may be the last for a long time " he said • "so we must enjoy it." °' Pas^sed ifjT'^'' ''°,'"'^ ^'■'^ '"'g''* t-^ 'he last- passed ma fine carelessness and a rich joy in living The clo„d,e33 sky and the glittering waters of lak ' lt7:ZT''':i '°f ^'^ Pleasuref whether as they meal 1„ 1°"^ '^ '^°''' °' =^' ^"^ ate a simple meal on the rock-strewn margin. Hopes and fears dangers and stern resolves, were forgotten; even of the happier issues which the future pro^isld or hearf: '^ou^ro °hth Th" "^t '"^"^' *"« iested Ja fu- ^ The grave Prince joked, S Ihe fun". ^'°"*' '°P^^'^ ^-^^ ^^^^-ed wim tne fun as not even the most exalted nn^ perilous adventure could make them spar e the ?u,; 'C • • '"' ^"^<^-"g- ■ 'nii hi .1 CHAPTER XIII. A DELICATE DUTY. |£ , THERE was a stir in Slavna : excitement was gradually growing, not unmixed with un- easiness; gossip was busy at the H6tel de Paris and at the Golden Lion. Men clustered in groups and talked, while their wives said that they would be better at home, minding their business and letting politics alone. Knowledge was far to seek; rumours were plentiful. Dr. Natcheff might be as reassuring as he pleased — but he had spent the night at the Palace! All was quiet in the city, but news came of the force that was being raised in Volseni, and the size of the force lost nothing as the report passed from mouth to mouth. Little as Slavna loved the Prince, it was not eager to fight him. A certain reaction in his favour set in. If they did not love him, they held him in sincere respect; if he meant to fight, then they were not sure that they did ! Baroness Dobrava's name too was much on men's lips; stories about Sophy were bandied to and fro; people began to remember that they had from the beginning thought her very remarkable— a force to 244 A DELICATE DUTY. be reckoned with. The superstitious ideas about h.r made their first definite appearance now She had h msToo^^he^^hT^ ^'^^ "^'' ^"^ *^^ -' '^ h W K L'- °^^ "fountain country would rise at come, following the Redliar^ ^""'"'"^ "°"''' The citizens of Slavna did not relish the prospect • at the best it would be very bad for trade Ttt; w^st .t would mean blood Tnd death l^e Z streets. A stem ruler was better than civil war The troops of the garrison were no longer such favourites as thev had been • even r»„*o- u , subduert t,;= ^. ' ', '-aptain Hercules buoauea nis demeanour (which inHooj i, j st^rtoTstif r "^ ^^-^^^ Crt and in I l""^ '^""'"°°- ««too in his whole chapter long ago! ^® The time was short and the omens doubtful It gTme ThT"' '" ^ '°^' ^^^°^^' ^- - forcing fav whnl ^TJ'"'."^"'' ^^ ^h°^" ^here powef iay,, whose was the winning side ZeS^'f . ^'^^''* ^'"^"^ "* S^^^"^ at one o'clock ^erkovitch had used his start well and reacLd tt: 2 nearly three hours earlier. When Ma^^^^^^^^ told Slenovics (he reported himse'f at once to fh^ General) how h^ ha^ »--- • ° *^® -w n. ftad uccn out,mted, Stenovics 345 ':**•- r ■'-! ii J t )i|ii ,.'J,'_ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. smiled, saying : " I know, and I know what he has done since he got here. They stole a march on you, but not on me, Captain. And now — your story ! " He listened to Markart's tale with a frowning brow, and then dismissed him, saying : " You will meet me at the Palace. We meet the King in conference at four o'clock." But the General himself went to the Palace long before four, and he and Stafnitz were closeted with Countess Ellenburg. Lepage, returning from a walk to the city at two o'clock, saw the General arrive on horseback. Lieutenant Rastatz saw Lepage arrive — aye, and had seen him set out and marked all his goings; but of this Lepage was unconscious. The little lieutenant was not much of a soldier, but he was an excellent spy. Lepage had been with Zerkovitch. The King was confined to his apartments, a suite of six rooms on the first floor, facing the river. Here he had his own sitting-room, dressing-room, and bed- room. Besides these there were the little cupboard Lepage slept in, and a spare room, which at present accommodated Dr. Natcheff. The sixth room was occupied by odds and ends, including the tackle, rods, and other implements of His Majesty's favourite pastime. The council was held in the sitting-room. Natcheff and Lepage were not present, but each was in his own room, ready for any possible call on his services. Markart was there, first to tell his story ajid deliver his letter, secondly in his capacity as secretary to General 246 I'hat he has rch on you, >ur story ! " ming brow, ill meet me conference elf went to id Stafnitz . Lepage, ivo o'clock, Lieutenant 1 seen him •ut of this tenant was 1 excellent its, a suite ver. Here 1, and bed- 2 cupboard at present room was :he tackle, Majesty's :ld in the were not ready for .rkart was his letter, 3 General A DELICATE DUTY. tl!e"pa1ty ^^' ^°""*''' ^""^ ^*'^"^*^ completed The King was anxious, worried, obviously unwell- his voice trembled as he read aloud his son's letter! It was brief, but dutiful and even affectionate. After a slight reproach that he should have been kept in Ignorance of the apprehensions entertained about the whth ,> T^*^° ^^y^' ^' ^'^ considerations which It was his duty to lay before His Majesty, and he firmly but respectfully claimed the right of confi. dentia communication with his father; that was essent.1 to His Majesty's obtaining a tru'e appreda! tion of his views. The hit at Stenovics was plain enough, and the Prince did not labour it. The letter for the r ^'1; T^P'^^^^" ^' — ^ -n-n or the King's health. There was no word in it about starting on his journey. mu^ch'l^n^'l '"^^ ^'' ^*°^-"°* *hat he had much to tell. In essence he added onlv that the Praslok Neither to him had the Prince said a word about starting on his journey to^L'^T ^°!?' ^'T^'"' '''''^' P"^^"^"^' "° doubt, .wl^ u ^^""''^^ ^" *^^^ preliminary discussion with the other two members of the little coterie It is remarkable. Sir-even more than remark- able— that his Royal Hi£hnes«; m^l-.. ^e^^arK- at all fn tho A- . "'gnness makes no reference at all to the direct command which Your Majestv was pleased to issue to him," he .observed. ^1 247 ^mmm SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. The King listened, puzzled and rather distressed. Yes, It isn t proper, it isn't respectful. But now that my son knows of the state of my health, I think I mus see him It seems unnatural to refuse. After all it may be the last time-since he's going on this journey." ^ ^ "But is the Prince going on his journey, Sir?" asked Stenovics. "Does the studied silence of his letter augur well for his obedience ? Doesn't he seek an interview in order to persuade Your Majesty against your better judgment ? I must be pardoned freedom cr^ ..peech. Great interests are at stake." The last ','crds were true enough, though not in the sense in ,vhich the King was meant to under- stand them. " My son knows how near this matter is to my heart. I shall be able to persuade him to do his duty," said the King. The first round of the fight was going against the coterie. They did not want the King to see his son. Danger lay there. The Prince's was the stronger character; it might well prevail; and they were no longer certain that the Prince knew or guessed nothing of their hopes and intentions; how much news had Zerkovitch carried to Praslok the mght before? Stenovics addressed the King again. Captain Markart gathered that the Prince was reluctant to interrupt the military training on which he IS engaged at Volseni, Sir." "A very excellent thing, that; but the other 248 A DELICATE DUTY. matter is more urgent. I shouldn han?^ m„ mind on account of that." ^ ^^ MliLyT"""^ '"*'™* "■'2''' ^ "y'"S to Your picSfs '''"f Yo,?!'"* '""°^"* P°=^*'y - '"tie sus. •' Nrs-?hetir "'"^ "''^^ "-^ ^""'^ p^<«^-- shall induce my son to do his. I '11 receive th^ Pnnce of Slavna in private audience to morrlw i 11 write the letter myself." far'^'^Tht""'"" """' ''""'-""^ 't ^^= defeat so far. There v/as a moment's silence. Markart saw Cdonel Stafnit. nod his head, almost imperceptibr towards Countess EUenburg. The need »nH *i, moment for reinforcements had come the r . , was calhng them up. The order of ba'ttL h»d k" well considered in Countess EUenbur^t f '"! The semnH i;„„ ""'«fss tuenburgs apartments besan wZ^» n T" ""° ''"°"- '^^^ Countess twgan with a question, put with a sneer: ness to Z I '■'''^" ^°' *" P""«'= ""Willing, ness to set out on his journey suggest itself tn Ca^^in Markart from what he saw ffpraslot p"° ine King turned sharply round fn h^r ^u Markart. "Well?" he a'sL the latter "^ ''^" '^ Markart was sadly embarrassed. "Who was at Praslok?" asked the Countess. 249 *'* miigi IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 L8 1.4 1.6 6" V w ^><^ /» Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 A ,-\ V ^9) v *1> Is ) ,.v <^<% 1^ SOPriY OF KRAVONIA. "Madame Zerkovitch, and her husband for one night, and Baroness Dobrava." "Yes, Baroness Dobrava!" " She's still there ? " asked the King. He looked perplexed, even vexed, but again he smiled. He looked at Stenovics and Stafnitz, but this time he found no responsive smiles. Their faces were deadly serious. " Oh, come, well-well, that 's not serious. Natural perhaps, but-the Prince has a sense of duty. He'll see that that won't do. And we'll send the Baroness a hint— we '11 tell her how much we miss her at Slavna." He tried to make them answer his smile and accept his smoothing away of the difficulty. It was all a failure. "I 'm bound to say. Sir, that I consider Baroness Dobrava a serious obstacle to his Royal Highness's obeying your wishes— a serious obstacle." said btenovics. "Then we must get her away. General." 1^' Will he let her go ? " snapped the Countess. " I must order it, if it comes to that," said the King. " These little— er—affairs-these— what ?— holiday flirtations " The Countess lost— or appeared to lose— control of herself suddenly. "Little affairs! Holiday flirtations I If it were only that, it would be beneath your notice, Sir, and beneath mine. It 's more than that I " The King started and leant forward, looking at her. She rose to her feet, crying: "More than 3^w A DELICATE DUTY. that ! While we sit talking here, he may be marrying that woman!" ' ^ "Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the blood ebbed again, became very pale. "That's what she means— yes, and what he means too ! " The King was aghast. The second assault struck home— struck at his dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turnmg from the vehement woman to his two counsellors. " Gentlemen I " he said imploringly with out- stretched hands. They were silent— grave and silent. "Captain Markart, you— you saw anything to suggest this— this terrible idea ? " The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered. "The — the Baroness seemed to have much influence, Sir; to— to hold a very high position m the Prince's regard; to-to be ia his con- fidence '• "Yes I" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! Isn't that a com- pliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I appeal to you. Colonel Strafnitz ! " "In most services it is so, I believe, Countess," the Colonel answered gravely, 2Sl ill m 4.; ill SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "But I should never allow it— and without my consent " ' "It might be invalid, Sir, though there's some doubt about that. But it would be a fatal bar to our German project. Even an influence short of actual marriage " "She means marriage, I say, marriage!" The Countess was quite rudely impatient of her ally— which was very artistic. "An ambitious and dangerous woman! She has taken advantage of the favour the King showed her." "And if I died?" asked the King. Stenovics shrugged his shoulders. "Of course there would be no control then," said he. The King looked round. "We must* get her away from Praslok." "Will she come?" jeered the Countess. "Not she ! Will he let her go ? Not he ! " The King passed his hand weakly across his brow. Then he rang a bell on the table. Lepage entered, and the King bade him bring him the draught which Natcheff had prescribed for his nerves. Well might the unfortunate man feel the need of it, between the Countess's open eruption and the not less formidable calm of Stenovics and Stafnitz! And all his favourite dreams in danger ! "She won't leave him— or he'll follow her The woman has infatuated him!" the Countess persisted. 252 A DELICATE DUTY. "Pray, madame, let me think," said the harassed and sick King. "We must open communications with Baroness Dobrava." "May I suggest that the matter might prove urgent, Sir ? " said Stenovics. " Every hour is full of danger," declared the Countess. Tht King held up his hand for silence. Then he took paper and pen, and wrote with his own hand some lines. He signed the docuiuent and folded It. His face was now firm and calmer. The peril to his greatest hopes-perhaps a sense of the precarious tenure of his power-seemed to impart to him a new promptness, a decision alien to his normal character. " Colonel Stafnitz ! " he said in a tone of command. The Colonel rose to his feet and saluted. From an adviser in council he became in a moment a soldier on duty. " I am about to entrust to you a duty of great delicacy. I choose you because, short of General Stenovics himself, there is no man in whom i have such confidence. To-morrow morning you will go to Praslok and inform his Royal Highness that you nave a communication from me for Baroness Dobrava. If the Prince is absent, you will see the Baroness herself. If she is absent you will follow her and find her. The matter is urgent. You will tell her that it is my request that she at once accompany you back here to l": , *- ! '■ y ji il v\ S 253 II' i In- t 1% y^MM^ ^: Li.^ ikLi >i SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. the Palace, where I shall receive h-r and acquaint her with my further wishes. If she asks of these, say that you are not empowered to tell her anything; she must learn them from myself. If she makes any demur about accompanying you immediately, or if demur is made or delay suggested from any quarter, you will say that my request is a command. If that is not sufficient, you will produce this paper. It is an order under my hand, addressed to you and directing you to arrest Baroness Dobrava and escort her here to my presence, notwithstanding any objection or resistance, which any person will offer at his peril. You will be back here by to-morrow evening, with the Baroness in your charge. Do it without employing the order for arrest if possible, but do it anyhow and at all costs. Do you under- stand?" "Perfectly, Sir. Am I to take an escort?" The answer to that question was anxiously considered — and awaited anxiously. "Yes," said the King, "you will. The precise force I leave to your discretion. It should be large enough to make you secure from hindrance by any act short of open and armed resistance to my commands." Stafnitz saluted again, and at a sign from the King resumed his seat. The King's manner relaxed as he turned to Stenovics. " When we 've got her here, we'll reason v;rith her— she'll hear reason— aS4 A DELICATE DUTY. you here and persuade her that her health will benefit by a foreign trip. If necessary, I shall cause her to be deported. She must be out of Kravonia in three days unless she can clear herself from all suspicion. I'll arrange that the Prince shan't come for his audience until she is well out of Slavna. It is, of course, absolutely essential that no word of this should pass the walls of this room. If once a hint of it reached Praslok, the task of laying our hands on the Baroness might become infinitely more difficult." The three were well pleased. They had come to fear Sophy, and on that score alone would be right glad to see the last of her. And when she had gone, there was a fairer chance that the Prince too would go on his travels; whether he went after her or not they cared little, so that he went, and the recruitmg and training at Volseni were interrupted. Agam, she was to go before the audience. That was another point. The peril of the audience remamed, but they had improved their chances. Perhaps Stafnitz's brain was already busy with the possibilities of his mission and his escort. The latter was to be laige enough to make him secure from hmdrance by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's commands. If it were impossible (as His Majesty obviously considered) to contemplate such resistance, it was evidently no less impossible to reckon what might happen as a consequence of it. 355 m f SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ii ft f ! 'f The King rang his bell impatiently. "I want my draught again. I 'm very tired. Is there any- thing else which need detain us to-day ? " As he spoke, before Stenovics could answer Lepage came in with the draught. The valet wore an even unusually demure and uninterested expression. "There is one other matter, Sir," said Stenovics. The Kmg paused in the act of drinking and listened with his glass in his hand, Lepage standing beside him. ^ "Your Majesty just now impressed on us the need of secrecy as to what passes between these walls. I think, Sir, you would insist on the same thing with all who serve you confidentially. You haven't asked, Sir, how the Prince became aware of the state of Your Majesty's health." The King started a little. " No, I forgot that. It was against my direct orders. How was it ? " Stenovics kept his eyes on the King; Markart and Stafnitz allowed themselves to study Lepage's features; he stood the scrutiny well. " The news. Sir, was betrayed by a man within these walls—a man in close touch with Your Majesty." "Natcheff?" exclaimed the King. "Certainly not. Sir. Another. This man, of whom I had suspicions and whom I caused to be watched, went by night to the house of Monsieur Zerkovitch, who is, as you are aware, a close friend and (if I may use the word) an adherent of the 256 A DELICATE DUTY. Prince of Slavna. Their interview took place between nine and ten last night. At eleven ^erkovitch, having borrowed a horse from the Princes stables, set out for Praslok. He rode hard through the night and reached the Castle as Captain Markart has told us, in the small hours of the morning. There he had an interview with the Prince. He left Praslok between six and seven in the morning and arrived at his house on the south boulevard by eleven. At half.past eleven he walked up the Street of the Fountain, crossed St. Michael s Square, and entered a small inn in a little alley behind the Cathedral. Here the man 1 speak of was waiting for him. They were together half an hour. Zerkovitch then left. The rnan remained till one, then came out, and returned to the Palace by a circuitous route, arriving here about two o'clock. I venture to say that the meaning of all this is quite clear. This man is in communication with Praslok, using Zerkovitch as his intermediary It's for Your Majesty to say how far his disobedience in regard to acquainting the Prince with your condition is a serious offence As to that I say nothing. But it will be obvious that this man should know nothing of any private measures undertaken or contemplated." The King had listened carefully. "The case seems clear" he said. "This fellow's a traitor. He s done harm already, and may do more. What do you ask, General ? " 18 257 SOPHY OP KRAVONIA. " We might be content to let him know nothing. But who can be quite certain of ensuring that? Sir, you have just arrived at a very important decision-to take certain action. Absohite secrecy IS essential to its success. I Ve no wish to press hardly on this man, but I feel bound to urge that he should be put under arrest and kept in the charge of a person who is beyond suspicion until the action to which I refer has been successfully carried out." "The precaution is an obvious one, and the punishment hardly sufficient." The King rose. "Do as you say, General. I leave you full dis-* cretion. And now I '11 go to my room and rest. I m very tired. Give me your arm, Lepage, and come and make me comfortable." Lepage did not offer his arm. He was not looking at the King nor listening to him ; his eyes and his ears were for General Stenovics. Stenovics rose now and pointed his finger at Lepage. "That, Sir, is the man," said he. ^ "Lepage!" cried the King, and sank heavily mto his seat with a bewildered face. Lepage— his familiar— the man he trusted I My 2.^8 w nothing, •ing that? important te secrecy I to press urge that pt in the :ion until ccessfully and the ing rose. full dis- and rest. >age, and •t looking ; and his /ics rose heavily age — his CHAPTER XIV. HIS MAJESTY DIES — TO-MORROW. THE King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruel blow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. He regarded his body-servant with the confiding affection which grows on an indolent man m course of years— of countless days of consulting, trustmg, relying on one ever present, ever ready' always trustworthy. Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secret of the Kmg's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had he turned trait -? Stenovics had failed to allow foi this human side of the matter; how much more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much more exposed and helpless-just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluable servant more indispensable still A forlorn dignity filled the King's simple question : " Is It true, Lepage ? " Lepage's impassivity vanished. He too was deeply moved. The sense of guilt was on him-of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyond Itself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into his disobedience, whose action and plans 259 6: If I: 1 M s 1 H' *■ 1 « .r iH .11 i.;^'^ SOPHY OP KRAVONIA. HaMk^m J' had made his disobedience right. For right now he behaved and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch had crystallised his suspicions into confident certainty. He was carried beyond thinking of what effect his outburst might have on his own fortunes or how it might distress the already harassed King. He struck back fiercely at his accuser, all his national quickness of passion finding vent in the torrent of words he poured forth in excuse or justification. He spoke his native French very quickly, one word jostlmg over another, his arms flying like windmiUs, and his hair bristling, as it seemed, with defiance. " Yes, it 's true. Sir. I disobeyed Your Majesty— for the first time in thirty years! For the first time m my life, Sir, I did it ! And why ? Because it was right ; because it was for honour. I was angry, yes I I had been scolded because Count Alexis bade me call him ' Prince,' and you heard me do it. Yes, I was angry. Was it my fault ? Had I told him he was a prince ? No ! Who had told him he was a prince ? Don't ask me, Sir. Ask somebody else. For my part, I know well the difference between one who is a prince and one who is not. Oh, I'm not ignorant of that I I know, too, the difference between one who IS a queen and one who is not—oh, with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse ! But I know it— and I remember it. Does everybody else remember it ? " He stopped for a moment and clutched at his stiff tight collar as though to wrench it away from his neck and let the stream of his words flow even more 260 HIS MAJESTY DIES-TO-MORROW. freely. While he paused, nobody spoke. Stenovics' heavy gaze was on the King, Stafnitz's eyes dis- creetly on the ceiling; the Countess looked scared. Had they made a mistake ? Would it have been better to run the risk of what Lepage could do ? The King s hands were on the table in front of him ; they trembled where they lay. " Why wasn't the Prince to know ? Because then he wouldn't go on his journey! His journey after the German princess ! " He faced Stenovics now. boldly and defiantly, pointing a forefinger at him. Yes, they wanted him to go. Yes, they did! v^r.uJ . "'^''y ^ princess-a great princess ? Was that what they wanted ? Eh, but it would have been little use for Count Alexis to ask me to call him a prince then! And Madame la Comtesse --with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse- she wanted a great princess here ? Oh, she wanted that mightily, to be sure ! " The King stirred uneasily in his chair brZ^'n"^'" ^°" ^''^'" *° *''"'^" *^^ ^°""t^s^ His answer was cold : " I listen to every man before I order him to be punished." "Yes they wanted him to go. Yes, certainly! For he trains his men at Volseni, trains them for his big guns. When the men are trained and the guns .h''%Tx?^'''"' ^^'^'^ "^" ^°""* Alexis a prince then ? Will even they who taught him to think himself a pnnce? Oh, yes; they wanted him to go. 261 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. I And he wouldn't go if he knew Your Majesty was ill. He loves Your Majesty. Yes ! But if he hated you, still would he go?" With a sudden turn he was round on Stenovics again, and threw out his arms as though to embrace a picture. " Look ! The Prince is away, the guns are come, the King dies! Who commands in the Palace? Who governs Slavna?" He was back to the King with another swift turn. " May I answer, Sir ? May I tell you ? The mother of Prince Alexis commands in the Palace; Slavna is ruled by the friends of Captain Mistitch ! " His voice fell to an ironical murmur. "And the Prince is far off — seeking a great princess ! Sir, do you see the picture ? " Stafnitz suddenly lowered his eyes from the ceiling and looked at the gesticulating little man with a smile. " Such imagination in the servants' hall ! " he murmured half under his breath. The King neither rebuked his levity nor endorsed the insinuated satire. He took no notice at all. His eyes were fixed on his still trembling hands. Stenovics spoke in a calm smooth voice. " Abso- lutely, Sir, I believe the man 's honest ! " he said, with an inflection of good-humoured surprise. " One sees how he got the idea ! I 'm sure he 's genuinely devoted to Your Majesty, and to the Prince — as we all are. He sees something going on which he doesn't understand ; he knows something more is going on that he's ignorant of. He knows the unfortunate condition of Your Majesty's health. He ^s like a nurse a62 ^^ HIS MAJESTY DIES— TO-MORROW. — forgive me — in charge of a sick child; he thinks everybody but himself has designs on his charge. It's really natural, however absurd — but it surely makes the precaution I suggested even more neces- sary? If he went about spreading a tale like this! " The line was clever — cleverer far than the Coun- tess' rage, cleverer than Stafnitz's airi' bitter sneer. But of it, too, the King took no notice. Lepage took no more than lay in a very scornful smile. He leant down towards the motionless dull-faced King and said in his ear: "They wanted him to go, yes! Did they want him to come back again, Sir ? " He bent a little lower and almost whispered : " How long would his journey have taken, Sir? How long would it have taken him to get back if — in case of need ? " One more question he did not ask in words ; but it was plain enough without them : " How long can Your Majesty count on living ? " At last the King raised his head and looked round on them. His eyes were heavy and glassy. " This man has been my trusted servant for many, many years. You, General Stenovics, have been my right hand, my other self. Colonel Stafnitz is high in my confidence. And Lepage is only my servant." " I seek to stand no higher than any other of Your Majesty's servants, except in so far as the nature of my services gives me a claim," said Stenovics. " But there 's one here who stands far nearer to me than anyone, who stands nearer to me than any If %'■■' \ I i 263 ,i \ 1 I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. living being. She must know of this thing, if it 's true ; if it 's being done, her hand must be foremost among the hands that are doing it." His eyes fixed themselves on the Countess's face. "Is it true?" he asked. "Sir, how can you ask? How can you listen? True! It's a malignant invention. He's angry because I reproved him." "Yes, I'm angry. I said so. But it's true for all that." "Silence, Lepage! Am I to take your word against the Countess's ? " Markart, a silent listener to all this scene, thought that Lepage's game was up. Who could doubt what the Countess's word would be? Probably Lepage, too, thought that he was beaten, that he was a ruined man. For he played a desperate card —the last throw of a bankrupt player. Yet it was guided by shrewdness and by the intimate know- ledge which his years of residence in the Palace had given him. He knew the King well; and he knew Countess Ellenburg hardly less thoroughly. " I speak truth. Sir, as I believe it. But I can't expect you to take my word against the Cc antess's. I have too much respect for Madame la Comtesse to ask that." Again he bent down towards the King; -the Kin" looked up at him ; Stenovics' simile came back into the mind. In a low soothing tone Lepage made his throw— his last suggestion. "Madame la Comtesse 264 HIS MAJESTY DIES-TO-MORROW. IS of great piety. If Madame la Comtesse will take a solemn oath— well, then I 'm content ! I '11 say I was mistaken-honest, I declare, Sir, but mistaken." Stenovics raised his head with a sharp jerk. Stafnitz smiled scornfully ; he was thinking that Lepage was not, after all, a very resourceful fellow An oath! Great Heavens! Oaths were in the day's work when you put your hand to affairs like this. But here Stenovics was wiser— and Lepage was shrewder. Stafnitz generalised from an experi- ence rather one-sided ; the other two knew the special case. When oaths were mentioned-solemn oaths— Stenovics scented danger. The King knew his wife too ; and he was pro- foundly affected, convulsed to the depths of his mmd. The thing sounded true-it had a horrible sound of truth. He craved the Countess's denial, solemn as it could be framed. That would restore the conhdence which was crumbling from beneath nis tormented bewildered mind. " Can anybody object to that ? " he asked slowly. -If I say it will relieve my mind ? " He smiled apologetically. " I 'm a sick man, you know. If It will relieve a sick man's mind, banish a sick man's fancies ? If I shall sleep a little better —and old Lepage here be ashamed of himself? " None of them dared to object. ^ None could plausibly, unless the Countess herself-and she dared not. In his present mood the King would not accept the plea of hei dignity ^ against it he a65 'I I t-A I I. M M n ■1 BE f f a J SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. V I,' h would set the indulgence due to a sick man's rebellious fancies ; could she, for her dignity's sake, deny him what would make him sleep ? He 'ooked at her; something in her face appeared to strike him as strange. A sort of quiver ran through his body; he seemed to pull himself together with an effort ; as he spoke to her, his voice sounded faint and ever so slightly blurred. "You've heard Lepage, and I know that you'll speak the truth to me on your oath— the truth about the thing nearest to the heart of a dying man nearest to the heart of your dying husband. You wouldn't lie on oath to a dying man, your husband and your King. For I am dying. You have years still; but they'll end. You believe that some day you and I will stand together before the Throne. As you shall answer to Heaven in that day, is this true ? Was it in your heart, and in the heart of these men, to keep my son, the heir of my House, from his throne ? Is it true ? As you shall answer to God for your soul, is there any truth in it ? " The woman went grey in the face — a sheet of grey paper seemed drawn over her cheeks; her narrow lips showed a pale red streak across it. Her prayers — those laborious, ingenious, plausible prayers — helped her nothing here. " I protest ! At this time, Sir I The Countess will be upset ! " Stenovics had been driven to this ; he feared greatly. Not a soul heeded him ; every eye now was 266 a sick man's dignity's sake, face appeared )f quiver ran mself together I'oice sounded w that you'll le truth about dying man — iisband. You j^our husband m have years lat some day the Throne, t day, is this heart of these House, from ill answer to in it ? " sheet of grey ; her narrow Her prayers le prayers — 3ountess will ; he feared eye now was I T M h: ff^fl " H^^VA tke utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she' could not swear, Sir." HIS MAJESTY DIES— TO-MORROW. on the woman. She struggled— she struggled to He ; she struggled to do what she believed would bring perdition to her soul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence. "As I shall answer in that day " "As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day " the King repeated. She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking suc- cour, finding no refuge. Her eyes came back to the Kmg's face. " As I shall answer "—every word came forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang— "As I shall answer to God for my soul " She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threw her hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. I can't ! I can't I " they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping. The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody had offered to strike him. " You— you— you, my wife ! You, Stenovics ! You, whom I trusted— trusted— trusted like ! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did I hear rightly-wouldn't she swear ? " " With the utmost respeci .o Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear. Sir." The King sprang to his feet. " Go ! " he cried. They all rose— the Countess shaken with uncon- querable sobs. But the next moment the King made a quick indrawing of the breath, like a man suddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in 267 'I !^ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. !'i his chair; his head fell to meet his bands on the table in front. The hands were palms downward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles. There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted froni the room, crying: "Dr. NatcheffI Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Staf- nitz raised his head with a queer look at the King and his mouth shaped for a whistle. The Countess's sobs seemed as though trozen, her whole frame was rigid. The King did not move. Natcheff came rushing in ; Lepage, who followed closely, shut the door after him. They both went to the King. There was silence while Natcheff made his examination. In a couple of minutes he turned round to them. I' Something has caused His Majesty strong agitation ? " ° " Yes," answered Stenovics. " Yes ! " said Natcheff. He cleared his throat and glanced doubtfully at the Countess. " Well ? " asked Stenovics. Natcheff threw out his hands, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly; "I regret to say that the effect is the worst possible. His Majesty is dead." Silence again— a silence strangely broken. Stafnitz sprang across the room with a bound like a cat's and caught the physician by the shoulder. " No ! " he said. " Not for twenty-four hours yet I His Majesty dies — to-morrow ! " 268 CHAPTER XV. A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES. HIS MAJESTY dies-to-morrow!" Stafnitz's words seemed to freeze them all stiff where they stood ; even Countess El enburg's sobs, which had threatened to break lorth agam, were arrested in their flow "Markart, lock the dcjr leading to 'the Kind's tTTT. ""'^'^^^ ^"' Lepagef carry the Kbg m I can ^"'V''^ '^" °" *^^ ^^^'^^-y therf till I call you. Countess, General, I invite vour earnest attention." ^ slowT^n'' ""^"^ ''"'l!'^ ^" '^' ^"^'^^S g-"^e, the slow tortuous approach, the inch-by-inch advance o leisurely diplomacy. For him thil crisis was at' first too sudden. The swift and daring intellec hs sfrlnf T.""^ ^"' '""''''^'^'y t-k'the E his^ strong will fascinated his confederates. asked %lr ^" '^' ^''T""' °^ '^' ^"d?" he asked. For us and our friends, which ? If we send a courier to Praslok to call King Sergius To his capital-what then ? For you. Counter mH your son, oblivion and obscurit'y at'^DSjf^r all the rest of your life, just that! For you' 269 •I r E I ' III ', If I I \. II m SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. General, and for me, and our friends— yes, you too, Markart I— our cmgtf, more or less civilly given. There won't be more insignificant men in all Slavna on the day King Sergius enters. But there's no King Sergius yet ! " Stenovics was regaining the use of his brain; his eyes grew distant in deep meditation. Countess Ellenburg looked eager and grim; her lips could not swear a false oath —well, she was not asked to swear any oath now. Markart could not think ; he stood staring at Stafnitz. "In half an hour that courier must start for Praslok, if he starts at all. Of all things, we mustn't hesitate." He had painted the result to them of the coming of King Sergius; it meant the defeat of years of effort; it entailed the end of hopes, of place, of power or influence. There was no future for those three in Kravonia if King Sergius came. And Markart, of course, seemed no more than one of Stenovics' train. " And if the courier doesn't start ? " asked Steno- vics. He took out and lit a cigar, asking no leave of the Countess; probably he hardly knew that he was smoking it. Stafnitz looked at his watch. "Five o'clock 1 We have twenty-four hours — it would be risky to keep the secret longer. There's not much time; we must be prompt. But we mustn't sacriface anything to hurry. For instance, it would look 270 A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES. Odd to present the King's orders to Baroness Dobrava ,n t^o middle of the night I She'd smell a rat. ,f she s as clever as they say. And so would the Pnnce I thmk. I could have a hundred men at Praslok by midnight, but I shouldn't propose Well they could be back here by five in the after- noon! In the course of the day we'll occupy all the .mporunt points of the city with troops we'can how ml l" *' ^™'"g-as soon as we sea King aS"'''™ ""'' ^' "'-'°''— P-'-- fea?or*^°r'"'' ^'™ ' ""'" shiver-whether ol tear or of eagerness it was impossible to tell turned' b- "'^"'"'^ ."^^ fi"g«- on the table and turned his cigar quickly round and round in his mouth. Markart had recovered his clearn ss o mind and closely watched all the scene. I-I cant bear it," she said. "With him lyine lerJe-a^rhln? ^--'™-% you s^h^l! tUl you re quite composed. Then go to your own room and wait till I come. Mindf Counted" sign of agitation!" He led her out. St2„,t^ shrugged his shoulders. otatnitz "She'll be all right," he said to Markart with a passing smile. ^ II f 97Z i. . I I I ; i ki m'.I I m-'W' , f SOPHY OF KRAV0!fi4. I thinK she was fond of the King," said Markart. Stenovics returned. "Now!" he said, seating himself again and resuming his cigar. " You suggest that we still use that order -for the arrest of Baroness Dobrava?" "It's signed 'Alexis,' and King Alexis lives till five to-morrow. Moreover, if all goes well. King Alexis lives again for many years after that." Stenovics nodded slightly. " The Baroness comes willingly-or you bring her ? At any rate, one way or the other, she 's in our hands by this time to- morrow ? " "Exactly, General. I fail to perceive that this lamentable event "—he waved his hand towards the King's empty chair— " alters the case as regards the Baroness one jot." " Not the least— unless you consider that risking our heads on the throw has any such effect," replied Stenovics ; and for the first time he smiled. " Once you wanted to play the big stake on a bad hand. General. Won't you put it on the table now, when you 've a good one ? " "I'm thinking of a certain strong card in the other hand which you haven't mentioned yet. Baroness Dohrava is to be in our power by this time to-morr . But what will the Prince of Slavna be doin- ; ^tiJi drilling his men at Volseni, still waiting foi I i guiis?" Stafnitz locke'-: ».im full in the face. "No," he said. "The Prince had better not still be 272 m»r' ^'"^ "O" CAPTAIN HERCULES. S"' "' """ "' ''°'^'"'' "°^ -"■•"« for ,,s <■ r ^ u I ^'''™* without him ? " I dont know. He might have confidence Se .h"e r'' •'t,-""'^"'' wish .0 annoy : to In , / ^"^^ "' ""■«'" ^w="'' his summons lubmi. ;"•, °" *"= "''°'«' I think he wouJd subm,t-and rely on being able to induce the K.ng to alter his mind when thev met I 'rr. . 7^ -uldn. advise her to goZitTyou."" "°' ^"" '' •• If It happened, it wouldn't be convenient " said fomTr t* ' P*"^"* ^'^■'- "Because he woud come after her in a day or two " Slllna"' fnd ""."■' '■''"'""' ''y "sent business in blavna-and we Ve agreed that there 's work to be done tomorrow in Slavna-another offiTef ^^ouM mentionfntnV Jth:S tl ting ^^ ''". me by word of mouth." ^ '"^ designated ^'•The order mentions no name?" ;K..stedto'c:u^,%Sj:i.7r^:-^^^^^ x:^h:-hVnL\imnrr;L-- ^1 : r ri I. w 373 '^■ffi**^:-,**** SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 1 1 "Well, well, suppose another officer goes to Praslok — why shouldn't the Prince trust the Baroness to the care of that officer as readily as to you ? You don't — how shall I put it ? — monopo- lise his confidence. Colonel." Stafnitz still wore his easy confidential smile, as he answered with an air of innocent slyness: "Suppose the officer were — Captain Mistitch? I think it 's just the job for Captain Hercules ! " Even Stenovics started a little at that. He laid down his cigar and looked at his friend the Colonel for some seconds. Then he looked at Markart, smiling, seeming to ponder, to watch how Markart was taking it, even to sympathise with Markart on having to consider a rather startling proposal, on having, possibly, to do some little violence to his feelings. Certainly Captain Markart gathered the impression that Stenovics was doubtful how he would stand this somewhat staggering suggestion. At last the General turned his eyes back to Stafnitz again. " That 's as ingenious a bit of devilry as I ever heard, Colonel," he remarked quietly. " Captain Mistitch is restored to duty. He 's of proper rank to perform such a service, and to command an escort of fifty men. After all, an officer of my rank made a certain concession in accepting so small a command." "Of course, if the Prince knew you as I do, my dear Colonel, he 'd trust her to a thousand Mistitches sooner than to you " 7^ A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES. :er goes to 5 trust the IS readily as : ? — monopo- ial smile, as mt slyness : 1 Mistitch ? Hercules ! " at. He laid the Colonel at Markart, low Markart Markart on proposal, on lence to his fathered the ow he would on. At last nitz again, •y as I ever y. He's of ice, and to ifter all, an Dncession in as I do, my a thousand I' But then-he doesn't!" the Colonel smiled. He d regard the sending of Mistitch as a deliberate insult." ** I 'm afraid he would." miich^"' ^°*"^^"'P'''^- He'd probably say as "Yes. And Mistitch is hot-tempered. He'd probably resent the observation. But you'll re member. General, that the escort is to be lar^e enough to make the officer commanding it secure agamst hmdrance by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's command." MistS" '"" '^"^^^ *'^ ^^"^ --^^ -^ likd^'J' *^^* ""^^^ ^'' peaceable obedience more "In a moment they'd be at one another's " He stopped. "Markart, go and see if they need anything in there." He pointed to the Kin/s bed- room, where Natcheff and Lepage were. Markart rose and obeyed. His head was swim- ming; he hardly yet understood how very ingenious be s'rr^ ^'T "^^' ^°- *^« -^ --was to to wh^r ' '""''"''' '^' ^""^^ ^°"^^ "°t ^"bmit o, whose presence was an insult, to whom it was impossible to entrust Baroness Dobrava. He III was Stafnitz drawing his chair close up to StenovicI and engaging in low-voiced earnest talk The King's body lay on the bed, decently disposed ays M 11 ' 'I Ik SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. f i and covered with a large fur rug. Lepage sat on a chair near by, Natcheff on another in the window. Both looked up for a moment as Markart entered, but neither spoke. Markart found a third chair and sat down. Nobody said anything; the three were as silent and almost as still as the fourth on the bed. A low murmur of voices came from the next room ; the words were indistinguishable. So passed full half an hour— a strange and terrible half-hour it seemed to Markart. ' The door opened, and Stafnitz called Natcheff. The physician rose and followed him. Another twenty minutes went by, still in silence ; but once Markart, looking for a moment at his mute com- panion, saw a tear rolling slowly down Lepage's wrinkled cheek. Lepage saw him looking and broke the silence — " I suppose I helped to kill him ! " Markart shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Silence came again. Very long it seemed ; but, on looking at his watch, Markart found that it was not yet half- past six. Again the door opened, and Stafnitz called to them both. They followed him into the next room. Stenovics was sitting at the table with his hands clasped on it in front of him. Stafnitz took up a position by his side, standing as though on duty. Natcheff had disappeared. Stenovics spoke in calm deliberate tones ; he seemed to have assumed com- mand of the operations again. 376 JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES. twenty-four hours, a„d^fter;art^J„tif: ''':,";« my orders, you will be in charee of thl r ^ and will detain him in t^t^ln^ir ^^:^^- rnryorSnThurvo--^'^'"-^^^^^ out of your stht n r'u"°' '«' ""e prisoner room. He Ju h, ^""''^'^ '^■"^'"^ '" his when he des.> bntl^T *° ,*^ ^'"^'^ '°°'" apartmentrBeyond sLin^'toThis "" "?,1 T''* "' responsibility for h"m Thf H ' ^°" ™" ''^^ ''° will be locked by me and wiuT "! *° '^' =""« or by my orders Tremairit the7? ' ^' "" under me Captain S~/wi 1 \e ^roffi"^''' '• If^Se-^Ls-Srr stand your orders ? " '"""^*^'«'y- ^o you under- Markart understood them verv w»li . .1, need of Stafnitz', rr,^ J"^™ very well; there was no meaning. MaAartw^fh^ f" '""'" '° P°'"' '"e was to be his ulTI '"^P^S^^ Jailer, Sterkoff form he was made af. "'°''""' *"<^ considerate guarded.""EWdt" tLVcTad " "^ ""'" "^ conclusion that hp L u ^ ''°"'® *° ^^e too ffreatV.fr • u^^ "°* ^'^ Markart to put 100 great a strain on h s conscience i tKo n , however, seemed verv kin^u !i- . ^ General, .-J '. "="'^a very kmdly disposed toward- i-'m a"d was indeed almost apologetic; " ' V7 f ■11 pi SOPHY OF KKAVONIA. "I've every hope that this responsible and, I fear, very irksome duty may last only the few hours I mentioned. You put me under a personal obligation by undertaking it, my dear Markart." In the absence of any choice, Markart saluted and answered : ** I understand my orders, General." Stafnitz interposed : " Captain Sterkoff is also aware of their purport." Stenovics looked vexed. "Yes, yes, but I'm sure Markart himself is quite enough." It seems odd that, in the midst of such a transaction as that in ivhich he was now engaged, Stenovics should have found leisure — or heart — to care about Markart's feelings. Yet so it was — a curiously human touch creeping in ! He shut Markart up only under the strongest sense of necessity and with great reluct- ance. Probably Stafnitz had insisted, in the private conversation which they had held together : Markart had shown such evident signs of jibbing over the job proposed for Captain Hercules ! Lepage's heart was wrung, but his spirit was not broken. Stafnitz's ironical smile called an answering one to his lips. * At would console my feelings if I also were put in charge of somebody. General," he said. •* Shall I, in my turn, keep an eye on Dr. Natcheff, or report if the Captain here is remiss in the duty of keeping himself a prisoner ? " ** I don't think you need trouble yourself, Monsieur Lepage. Captain Sterkoff will relieve you of respon- 278 A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES. ble and, I fear, s few hours I 3nal obligation irt saluted and General." jrkoff is also !, but I'm sure It seems odd tion as that in s should have out Markart's human touch )nly under the 1 great reluct- , in the private ther: Markart ibing over the spirit was not I an answering also were put said. •• Shall :heff, or report nty of keeping rself, Monsieur you of respon- sibility." To Lepage too Stcnovics was gentle urbane, almost apologetic. ' ^* And how long am I to live, General ? " LeZT'Z U' *^%f"^^^ble position, Monsieur Lepage, of bemg able, subject to our common mor ahty, to settle that for yourself. Come Ze" we 11 discuss matters again to-morrow ni.ht or the °o TolT""'-K "^'^^ ^^^ "^^"^ -- -h^ P-^e doL T. r^'' ^"* ^^" ^^^^Pt a thing when it's done. They re not necessarily unwise. I've done no worse to you than give you the opportunity of taTc't^A V'T , I*''"' ^°"'" be'prudenTto that vout7 ''"' ^' ^"^^^' >"" "^"^^ --^-b- tHat you ve given us a good deal of trouble." Between us we have killed the Kins " btenovics waved his hanrlc in -. ^ • wav ««P«of 1 ^ commiserating way. Practical men mustn't spend time in lamenting the past," he said. " StafniL' hrnv"""'^ conversation, however pleasant/' inarrh '" ""''^ ^ ^^"^^^ " Captain Markart march your prisoner to his quarters.'' ' His smile made the order a mockery. Markart he f M '/ ''^"' °' ^^^ -- -- in hir^'tu he could do nothing. He did not lead Leple to h,s quarters, but followed sheepishly in^hls little room where Lepage slept. ''TherTiXT'"' *?' ^^P*^^"'" ^^^^ the valet, service.'' "•°"' '^'^'^~^'* "^^ P"* ^' ^' i\ He himself sat down on the bed, took 279 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ' < i out his tobacco, and began to roll himself a cigarette. Markart shut the doer and then threw himself on the solitary chair, in a heavy despondency of spirit and a confused conflict of feelings. He was glad to be out of the woik, yet he resented the manner in which he was put aside. There were things going on in which it was well to have no hand. Yet was there not a thing going on in which every man ought to have a hand, on one side or the other? Not to do it, but to be ready to accept it when done! He was enough of a soldier to feel that there lay the worst, the meanest thing of all. Not to dare to do it, but to profit by the doing! Stenovics had used the words to Lepage his prisoner. By making him in effect a prisoner too, the General showed that he applied them to the Captain also. Anything seemed better tnan that — aye, it would be better to ride to Praslok behind Captain Hercules! In that adventure a man might at least risk his life. "An odd world!" said the valet, puffing out his cigarette smoke. "Honest men for prisoners, and murderers for jailers! Are you a prisoner or a jailer, Captain Markart ? " 280 roll himself a threw himself lespondency of lings. He was e resented the There were ell to have no ; going on in hand, on one it to be ready I enough of a le worst, the to do it, but had used the r making him 1 showed that 30. Anything mid be better flercules I In least risk his t, puffing out for prisoners, Du a prisoner ''An odd world/'' said the valet. 280 I 1 I ' ?l ' li CHAPTER XVI. A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. TO say the truth, the word "murderers" seemed to Captain Mprkart more than a little harsh. To use it was to apply to Kravonian affairs the sterner standards of more steady-going squeamish countries. A coup d'etat may well involve fighting; fighting naturally in- cludes killing. But are the promoters of the coup therefore murderers? Murderers with a difference, anyhow, according to Kravonian ideas, which Captain Markart was inclined to share. More- over a coup d'etat is war; the suppression of information is legitimate in war. If the Prince of Slavna could not find out for himself what had happened in the Palace, were his opponents bound to tell him ? In fact, given that an attempt to change the succession in your own interest was not a crime but a legitimate political enter- prise, the rest followed. Except MistitchI It was difficult to swallow Mistitch. There was a mixture of ingenuity and brutality about that move which not even Kravonian notions could easily accept. If Stafnit^ a8x SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. p; had gone — nay, if he himself had been sent~ probably Markart's conscience would not have rebelled. But to send Captain Hercules — that was cogging ihe dice! Yet he was very angry that Stenovics should have divined his feelings and shut him up. The General distrusted his courage asi well as his conscience— there lay the deepest hurt to Markart's vanity; it was all the deeper because in his heart he had to own that Stenovics read him right. Not only the brazen conscience was lacking, but also the iron nerve. Getting no answer to his unpleasantly poirt?d question, Lepage relapsed into silence. He stood by the window, looking out on the lawn which sloped down to the Krath. Beyond the river the lights of Slavna glowed in the darkening sky. Things would be happening in Slavna soon ; Lepage might well look at the city thoughtfully. As a fact, however, his mind was occupied with one problem only— where was Zerkovitch and how could he get at him ? For Lepage did not waver— he had taken his line. Presently, however, his professional instincts seemed to reassert themselves. He opened a cupboard in the room and brought out a c'ean pair of sheets, which he proceeded to arrange on the bed. Busy at this task, he paused to smile at Markart and say: "We must do the best we can. Captain. After all, we have both camped, I expect! Here's the bed for you — you'll do aSa 3 A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. sen sent — not have ules — that very angry is feelings rusted his re lay the as all the own that he brazen 1 nerve, ly poirt?d He stood wn which river the nrng sky. na soon ; )ughtfully. pied with and how did not instincts )pened a ; a clean range on to smile best we camped, '■ou'll do finely." He went back to the cupboard and lugged out a mattress. "And this is for me — the shake- down on the floor which I use when I sleep in the King's room — or did use, I should say. In my judgment. Captain, it's comfortable to go to bed on the floor — at least one can't fall." It was eight o'clock. They heard the outer door of the suite of rooms open and shut. A man was moving about in the next room ; if they could judge by the sound of his steps, he also paid Dr. Natcheff a brief visit. They heard the clink of dishes and of glass. "Dinner!" said Lepage. "Ah, that's not un- welcome ! Have I permission ? " Markart nodded, and he opened the door. On the table in the sitting-room was a savoury dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. Captain Sterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head on one side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanently stuck on one side— a list to starboard — since the Virgin with the Lamp had injured the vertebrae of his neck. But the attitude, together with his beaked nose, made him look like a par- ticularly vicious parrot. Markart saw him through the open door, and could not get the resemblance out of his mind. " Supper, gentlemen ! " said Sterkoff with male- volent mirth. " The doctor can't join you. He 's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite ! I trust not to be obliged to disti you agam to-night. 283 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ■^1 Markart had come in by now, but surly and sore to speak. Witho he was too J J , ' -X — •• »»n.nout a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested h.s chin on h,s nands, staring at the cloth. It was eft to Lepage to bow to Sterkoff and to express hm jomt thanks. This task he performed wrth sufficient urbamty. Then he broke into a laugh. They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about the Palace, Captain '" Possiljly," agreed SterkoS. •• But you see, my friend, what they think in the Palace doesn't Tutside."''^ "'""'' '° '""^ "' "°"' °f "'^'" <=^" g«' out?°''' "'*'' "°"^ °' "'^'" ^^"'^ ""* *™°'"8 Jll°"l^- f^^ "''^ *°' "'''"" *•■« King has an attack of influenza, and Dr. NatcheiT is in attend- • ance ? It would be unfeeling, Lepage I " wouIdS? "''*"" ' ''""^"^ '^^ *"« -«"- "It's possible they would," Sterkojf agreed again. He drew himself up and saluted Markart, who did not move or pay any attention. "Good night Lepage." He turned to the door; his head seemed more cocked on one side than ever. Lepage bade him Good night" veiy respectfully; but as the key turned in the door he murmured longingly: "Ah, If I could knock that ugly mug the rest of the way off his shoulders ! " He treated Markart with no less respect than he 284 A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. had accorded to Sterkoff; he would not hear of sitting down to table with an officer, but insisted on handing the dish and uncorking the wine. Markart accepted his attentions and began to eat languidly, with utter want of appetite. " Some wine, Captain, some wine, to cheer you up in this tiresome duty of guarding me I " cried Lepage, picking up a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. " Oh, but that wry-necked fellow has brought you a dirty glass ! A moment, Captain ! I '11 wash it." And off he bounded— not even waiting to set down the bottle— into the little room beyond. His brain was working hard now, marshalling his resources against his difficulties. The difficulties were thirty feet to fall, Sterkoff-s sentries, the broad swift current of the Krath— for even in normal times there was always a sentry on the bridge— then the search for Zerkovitch in Slavna. His resources were a mattress, a spare pair of sheets, and a phial half full of the draught which Dr. Natcheff had prescribed for the King. "It's very unfortunate, but I've not the least notion how much would kill him," thought Lepage, as he poured the medicine— presumably a strong sedative— into the wine-glass and filled up with wine from the bottle Sterkoff had provided. He came back, holding the glass aloft with a satisfied air. "Now it's fit for a gentleman to drink out of," said he, as he set it down by Markart's *hand. The Captain took it up and swallowed it at a draught. » ! 285 iki u - ,y i: '] i t SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "Ugh! Corked, I think! Beastly, anyhow!" said he. " They poison us as well as shut us up ! " cried Lepage in burlesque anger. " Try the other bottle, Captain ! " The other bottle was better, said Markart, and he drank pretty well the whole of it, Lepage standing by and watching him with keen interest. It was distressing not to know how much of the King's draught would kill; it had been necessary to err on the safe side — the side safe for Lepage, that is. Captain Markart thought he would smoke his cigar in the little room, lying on the bed; he was tired and sleepy — very sleepy, there was no denying it. Lepage sat down and ate and drank ; he found no fault wiih the wine in the first bottle. Then he went and looked at Markart. The Captain lay in his shirt, breeches, and boots. He was sound asleep and breathing heavily; his cigar had fallen on the sheet, but apparently had been out before it fell. Lepage regarded him with pursed lips, shrugged his shoulders, and slipped the Captain's revolver into his pocket. The Captain's recovery must be left to fate. For the next hour he worked at his pair of sheets, slicing, twisting, and splicing. In the end he found himself possessed of a fairly stout rope twelve or thirteen feet long, but he could find nothing solid to tie it to near the window, except the bed, and that was a yard away. He would still liave a fall of some a86 A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. nyhow ! " > ! " cried er bottle, t, and he standing It was le King's :y to err hat is. noke his ; he was denying he found Then he in lay in id asleep n on the e it fell, igged his Iver into )e left to f sheets, tie found kvelve or ; solid to and that of some twenty feet, and the ground was hard with a spring frost. There would be need of the mattress. He put out all the lights in the room and cautiously raised the window. The night was dark, he could not see the ground. He stood there ten minutes. Then he heard a measured tramp ; a dark figure, just distinguishable, came round the corner of the Palace, walked past the window to the end of the building, turned, walked back, and disappeared. Hurriedly Lepage struck a match and took the time. Again he waited, again the figure came. Again he struck a light and took the time. He went through this process five times before he felt reasonably sure that he could rely on having ten minutes to himself if he started the moment Sterkoff s sentry had gone round the corner of the Palace. He pulled the mattress up on to the sill of the window and waited. There was no sound now but of Markart's stertorous breathing. But presently the measured tramp below came, passed, turned and passed away. Lepage gave a last tug at the fastenings of his rope, threw the end out of window, took the mattress, and dropped it very carefully as straight down as he could. The next moment, in spite of Sterkoff, somebody had left the Palace. Why not ? The runaway was aware that the King was not really suffering from influenza— he could spend an evening in Slavna without reproach ! 287 ^msm^ iUk. —■'^ '■*-"' iir SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. -t. " I wish I knew the safest way to fall ! " thought Lepage, dangling at the end of his rope. It swayed about terribly; he waited awhile for it to steady itself—he feared to miss the mattress ; but he could not wait long, or that measured tramp and that dark figure would come. There would be a sudden spurt of light, and a report— and what of Lepage then ? He gathered his legs up behind his knees, took a long i-reath— and fell. As luck would have it, though he landed on the very edge of the mattress, yet he did land on it, and tumbled forward on hie face, shaken but with bones intact. There was a numb feeling above his knees— nothing worse than that. He drew another long breath. Heavy bodies— and even mattresses— fall quickly; he must have seven or eight minutes yet ! But no! Heavy bodies, even mattresses, falling quickly, make a noise. Lepage, too, had come down with a thud, squashing hidden air out of the inter- stices of the mattress. The silence of night will give resonance to gentler sounds than that, which was as though a giant had squeezed his mighty sponge. Lepage, on his numb knees, listened. The stfips came, not measured now, but running. The dark figure came running round the corner. What next ? Next the challenge— then the spurt of light and the report ! What of Lepage then ? Nothing— so far as Lepage and the rest of humanity for certainty knew. Of that nothing— actual or possible— Lepage did 383 A PRENCHMAK AND A MATTRESS. not approve He hitched the mattress on to his back, bent himself nearly double, and, thus both burdened and protected, made for the river He must have looked like a turtle scurrying to the sea, est he should be turned over-and so left for sou^ m due season. ^ " Who goes there ? Halt ! Halt ' " The turtle scurried on; it was no moment to stop and discuss matters. ^ The spurt of light, the report ! There was a hole m the mattress, but well above Lepage's head Indeed, if hit at all, he was not most likel '"be '^t in the head; that vital portion of him was tucked away too carefully. He presented a broader aim; but the mattress masked him nobly. There was another shot-the north-west corner of he mattress this time. But the mattress wL on the river's edge. The next instant it was floating on he current of the Krath, and Sterkoff s sentry was indulgmg m some very pretty practice at it. He hit It every time until the swift current carried it round the bend and out of sight. r J„^' r^?!f *^'"^ '""""'^ ''""^"^^ ^"d rather un- canny to the sentry. He grounded his rifle and wiped h.s brow. It had looked like a carpet taking a walk on its own account-and then a swim I Superior officers might be accustomed to such strange phenomena. The sentry was not. He set off at a tTltif-T ^'h'..^"^'^^--^ ^^ ^^^ not even sty to notice the white rope which dangled in the air 90 289 ! i n i f" s ' \LM I 1 1 1 1 m p 1 ft 1 insv 1 ! i IS ijM f 1 Im ;H if 1 1 'S H 1 ■^9 1 f f'l 1 f lij 11 II ^L^^^^^mmm^ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. from a first-floor window. Had he stopped, he would have heard Markart's invincible drug-laden snoring. Lepage had separated himself from his good friend and ally, the mattress, and dived under water while the sentry blazed away. He welcomed the current which bore him rapidly from the dangerous neigh- bourhood of the Palace. He came to the surface fifty feet down stream and made for the other side. He could manage no more than a very slanting course, but he was a strong swimmer, lightly dressed, with an indoor man's light kid shoes. He felt no distress; rather a vivid, almost gleeful, excitement came upon him as he battled with the strong cold stream. He began to plume himself on the mattress. Only a Frenchman would have thought of that! A Slavna man would have run away with unguarded flanks. A Volsenian would have stayed to kill the sentry, and be shot down by Sterkoff's guard. Only a Frenchman would have thought of the mattress I He made land a quarter of a mile below the Palace. Ah, it was colder on the road there than struggling with the cold water ! But his spirit was not quenched. He laughed again— a trifle hysterically perhaps. In spite of Sterkoff, he was spending the evening out! He set his feet for Slavna— briskly too! Nay, he ran, for warmth's sake, and because of what the sentry might even now be reporting to Sterkoif, and, through him, to General Stenovics. The thought brought him to a standstill again ; there might be a cordon of sentries 290 A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. across the road ! After a moment's hesitation he broke away from the main road, struck due south and so ran when he could, walked when he must' two miles. ' He was getting terribly tired now, but not cold- rather he was feverishly hot inside his clammy garments. He turned along a country cross-road Th^m^^rp' ^"^ P"''"^ '^'•^"^^ ^ ^^"^^^' leaving the H6tel de Pans on the main road far to his right At last he reached the main road south and turned up It headmg again for Slavna and for the brid.^e which crossed the South River. He passed the bridge without being challenged as the Cathedral clock struck midnight from St. Michael's Square. The worst of his task was accomplished ! If now ne could find Zerkovitch ! But he was sore spent ; running was out of th- question now; he slunk slowly and painfully along he south boulevard, clinging close to the fences of the gardens, seeking the shelter of the trees which overhung them. Draggled, hatless, dirty, infinitely weary, at last he reached Zerkovitch's house at the corner where the boulevard and the Street of the Fountain meet. He opened the garden gate and walked in. Spent as he was, he breathed a « Bravo ! " when he saw a ight burning m the hall. He staggered on, rang the bell, and fairly fell in a lump outside th^ door. clnVhl u T. T" ' ^'' ^ '"^^ °^ P^^^^' busy with clothes^^he had done well that night ! But he was i 'ill 291 r SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ■''-1 %i'- finished. When Zerkovitch opened the door, he found little more than a heap of dank and dirty raiment; he hauled it in and shut the door. He supported Lepage into the study, sat him down by the fire, and got brandy for him to drink, pouring him out full half a tumbler. Lepage took it and drank the better part of it at a gulp. "The King died at five o'clock, Monsieur Zerko- vitch," he said. He drank the rest, let the tumbler fall with a crash in the fender, buried his head on his breast, and fell into blank unconsciousness. He was out of the battle— as much as Markart, who slept the clock round in spite of Stenovics' shakings and Dr. NatchefTs rubbings and stimulants. But he had done his part. It was for Zerkovitch to do his now. The King had died at five o'clock? It was certainly odd, that story, because Zerkovitch had just returned from the offices of The Patriot, and, immediately before he left, he had sent down to the foreman-printer an official communique, to be inserted in his paper. It was to the effect that Captain Mistitch and a guard of honour of fifty men would leave Slavna next morning at seven o'clock for Dobrava, to be in readiness to receive the King, who had made magnificent progress and was about to proceed to his country seat to complete his convalescence. Captain Mistitch and a guard of honour for Dobrava I Zerkovitch decided that he would, if m 2ga A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS. possible, ride ahead of thfTi to Dobrava-that is part of the way. But first he called his old house- keeper, and told her to put Lepage to bed. "Don't worry about anything he says. He's raving," he added thoughtfully. But poor Lepage raved no more that night. He did not speak again till all was over. He had done his part. At five o'clock in the morning, Zerkovitch left blavna, hidden under a sack in a carrier's cart He obtained a horse at a high price from a farmer three miles along the road, and thence set out for the Castle at his best speed. At six Captain Mistitch, charged with Stafnifz's careful instructions, started with his guard of honour along the same road- going to Dobrava to await the arrival of the King who lay dead in the Palace on the Krath ' But since they started at six, and not at seven, as the official commmiqus led Zerkovitch to suppose he had an hour less to spare than he thought.' . Moreover, they went not fifty strong, but one hundred. These two changes-of the hour and the force- were made as soon as Stenovics and Stafnitz learned of Lepage's escape. A large force and a night- march would have caused suspicion in Slavna The General did what he safely could do to meet the danger which the escape suggested-the danger that news of the King's death might be carried to Praslok before Mistitch and his escort got there. 293 mv^^mmmmm I I! ^^^SXfKiWifcwe*^! i i f' CHAPTER XVII. INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. AFTER his happy holiday the Prince slept well, ^ and rose in a cheerful mood— still joyful of heart. He anticipated that the day would bring him a summons from his father ; he had little doubt that in the course of a personal interview he could persuade the King to agree to a postponement of his journey. Of Sophy he meant to say nothing— by a reservation necessary and not inexcusable. It was impossible not to take into account the know- ledge he had acquired of the state of the King's health. The result of that condition was that his provision must, in all likelihood, be for months only, and not for years. The task for the months was to avoid disturbing the King's mind, so long as this course was consistent with the maintenance of his own favourable position. It must be remembered that no man in the kingdom built more on this latter object than the King himself; no man was less a partisan of Countess Ellenburg and of young Alexis than the husband of the one and the father of the other. The royal line— the line which 294 % f: i| INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. boasted Bourbon blood-was for the King the onlv hne of Stefanovitch. ' Of the attack prepared against him the Prince knew nothing-nothing even of the King's mind having been turned against the Baroness Dobrava whom so short a time ago he had dehghted to honour; nothing, of course, of Stafnitz's audacious coup, nor of the secret plan which Stenovics and the Colonel had made and of which Mistitch was to be the mstrument. Of all the salient features of the situation, then, he was ignorant, and his Ignorance was shared by those about his person. On the other hand, Stenovics had his finger on every thread save one -the Lepage - Zerkovitch thread, if it may so be called. That was important, but its importance might be nullified if Mistitch made good speed. On the whole, the odds were much in favour of the coterie. If by any means they could prevent the King from coming alive and free to Slavna the game would be theirs. If he did come alive and free their game would probably be up. His presence would mean a hard fight-or a surrender; and Slavna had no stomach for such a fight-though it would be piously thankful to be rid of Sergius whether as Prince or King, without the necessit^ ot an ordeal so severe. As a prdiminary to the summons he anticipated and to a possible stay of some days with his father at Slavna, the Prince had details to discuss and 295 I' : , »' I ' . '^f^«l«|iBt*/jj«.4(^^^^ ^ SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. H 3 !^ i ; '■ i ! M ■•. ■! hi routine business to transact with Lukovitch, the captain of his battery in Vokeni. He was early on horseback; Sophy and Max von Hollbrandt (Max's stay at the Castle was to end the next day) rode with him as far as the gates of the city; there they left him, and turned down into the plain, to enjoy a canter on the banks of Lake Talti. The three were to meet again for the midday meal at Praslok. Marie Zerkovitch had been ailing, and kept her bed in the morning. The Prince's mounted guard rode behind him and his friends to Volseni, for the sake of exercising their horses. In the Castle were left only Marie Zerkovitch and the servants. The Prince did not anticipate that any message would come from the Palace before noon at the earliest. Morning avocations pursued their usual peaceful and simple course at the Castle; old Vassip, his wife, and the maids did their cleaning ; Peter Vassip saw to his master's clothes and then, to save his father labour, began to sluice the wooden causeway ; the stablemen groomed their horses— they had been warned that the Prince might want another mount later in the day. Marie Zerkovitch lay in her bed, sleeping soundly after a restless night. There seemed no hint of trouble in the air. It must be confessed that up to now it looked as though Praslok would be caught napping. It was Peter Vassip, busy on the causeway, who first saw Zerkovitch. He rested and leant on his mop to watch the head which rose over the hill, 296 INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. Is us^. .r. "T' ""^^""^ ^^"^P- The man A^groom came across from the stabler and joined "He's got no call to treat the horse like that whoever he is," the groom observed. ' Not unless he's on urgent business," said Peter twirhng the water from his mop. ' hofsf °"riT "^ 'u '^'"' ^' '''^' f-- his iWdiatelyn"' "^ ''' ^""^^'" '^ --^' ''-^ sJ'r^'/""r/' ^*"VoIseni, sir; he rode over to see Captam Lukovitch." " When will he be back ? " "We don't expect him till twelve o'clock. ' Zerkovitch snatched out his watch sir'^hr's'lm^'t ^/'' ^"' ''^^^"^^ Zerkovitch, sir she s still m bed, not very well, sir." ro hird r tu"'^'" "^""^^^^ ^erkovitch, paying uTu 1° ^^^ "'^' ^^°"* his wife. ^ ^ out riding—""' '"^ ^^"" ^°" ^^"hrandt are and find T f ^' ""' ^ ^'"'^ ^^^^^ ? I "^"st ride on and find the Pnnce at Volseni." " Oh, yes, sir." He signed to the eroom " An^ hurry up !" he added. ""^ &'oom. And ^" The guard 's here, of course ? " "No, sir. They've gone with the Prince." I' 'i i 297 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. |f ■>/ inn Zerkovitch tvv'itchcd his head irritably and again looked at his watch. "There must be time," he said. "They can't be here at soonest for an hour and a half." Peter Vassip did not understand him, but neither did he venture to ask questions. " Your horse '11 be here in a minute, sir. I think you '11 find the Prince in his office over the city gate. He went to do business, not to drill, this morning." Zerkovitch looked at him for a moment, wonder- ing perhaps whether he would be wise to tell his news. But what was the use of telling Peter Vassip? Or his own wife? What could she do? It was for the Prince to say who should be told. The one thing was to find the Prince. There was time — at the very least an hour and a half. The groom brought the fresh horse, and Zerko- vitch began to mount. " A glass of wine, sir ? " Peter Vassip suggested. He had marked Zerkovitch's pale face and strained air; he had wondered to see his clothes sprinkled with whitey-brown fibres — traces of the sack under whose cover he had slid out of Slavna. Zerkovitch was in the saddle. ** No," he answered. "But a bumper, Peter, when I 've found the Prince! " He set spurs to his horse and was off at a gallop for Volseni; the road, though high on the hills, was nearly level now. Peter scratched his head as he looked after him for a moment; then he returned to his mop. 298 INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFMTZ. and again time," he r an hour ut neither . I think city gate. morning." t, wonder- tell his ing Peter 1 she do? i be told, rhere was ilf. id Zerko- suggested. i strained sprinkled Lck under answered. Prince!" gallop for hills, was after him lOp. He was just finishing his task some twenty minutes later, when he heard Sophy's laugh. She and Hollbrandt came from a lane which led up from the lake and joined the main road a hundred yards along towards Volseni. Peter ran and took their horses, and they mounted the causeway in leisurely pleasant chat. Sophy was in her sheepskin uniform ; her cheeks were pale, but the Star glowed. The world seemed good to her that morning. "And that is, roughly, the story of my life,'' she said with a laugh, as she reached the top of the causeway and leant against the rude balustrade which ran up the side of it. "A very interesting one — even very remark- able, he said, returning he. .augh. "But much more remains to be written, I don't doubt, Baroness." "Something, perhaps," said Sophy. "A good deal, I imagine!" She shot a mischievous glance at him: she knew that he was trying to lure from her an avowal of her secret. "Who can tell? It all seems like a dream sometimes, and dreams end in sudden awakenings, you know." ^ , y^i^'^ ^ ^'^^^"^' >'°" ^^^^ a" excellent dream- lady, Baroness." Peter Vassip put his mop and pail down by the stables, and came up and stood beside them. "Did the mare carry you well to-day, sir?" he asked Max. 299 im \iA i J i Ii 1 i; T(| i ^4 Li^l i 'nm l^M m !■ 1 1 ' i ■ ' ■ ■ '''i*^'a^^tefc SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "Admirably, Peter. We had a splendid ride. At least I thought so. I hope the Baroness ? " Sophy threw out her arms as though to embrace the gracious world. " I thought it beautiful ; I think everything beautiful to-day. I think you beautiful, Baron von Hollbrandt— and Peter is beautiful— and so is your mother, and so is your father, Peter. And I half beheve that just this morning— this one splendid morning— I'm beautiful myself. Yes, in spite of this horrible mark on my cheek ! " " I hear something," said Peter Vassip. " Just this morning— this one splendid morning— I agree with you," laughed Max. "Not even the mark shall change my mind ! Come, you love the mark — the Red Star — don't you ? " " Well, yes," said Sophy, with a little confidential nod and smile. " I hear something," said Peter Vassip, with his hand to his ear. Sophy turned to him, smiling. "What do you hear, Peter?" He gave a sudden start of recollection. " Ah, has that anything to do with Monsieur Zerkovitch ? " " Monsieur Zerkovitch ? " broke from them both. "He's been here; he's ridden at a gallop on to Volseni — to find the Prince." He added briefly all there was to add — his hand at his ear all the time. " Hum ! That looks Hke news," said Max. " What can it be ? " 300 INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. It must be " Can there If it were " He didn't stop even to tell Marie ' urgent." They looked in one another's faces, be—be anything wrong in Slavna ? " " You mean— the troops ? " " I had thought of that." "I can think of nothing but that, n it were anythmg from the Palace, it would come by a royal courier sooner than by any other hand." " Listen?" ^'^' ^^^'"^^ "°'^'" ^^'^ ^^^^' ^^^'^P- They obeyed him, but their ears were not so well trained. ^ A dull indefinite sound was all they could distinguish. ^ " Horses-a number of them. Mounted men it must be-the hoofs are so regular. Cavalry > " cried Sophy. ''"°" """^" '"'' '^°" ^°^^^"^'" "No, it's from the other direction; and, besides there are too many for that." ' fn^r^^'t ?""" °" '^' ^^^^"^ road-and too many to be the Prince's guard ! ^ " What can it be ? " asked ^onln, ;« „ i " T ^ »x 1 asKea ijopny in a low voice. 1 dont know. Zerkovitch's arrival must h^ connected with the same thing, I think " .• '"^f^r'u.P^'^ ^'^ ^^^'' shakos coming over the rise of the hill ! " cried Peter Vassip. ^ rnl "f ^ "'°"?l"* '^^^'^ *^^ company. They rode in fours, with sergeants on the flanks. tZ officer m command was behind-the three on the 301 ,^**«'«<'^«(-»*%«*SH(r: I ■! ■ SOPKY OF KRAVONIA. causeway could not see him yet. They were Hussars of the King's Guard, the best regiment in the Army. The Prince of Slavna had made them good soldiers —they hated him for it. But Stafnitz was their colonel. On they came ; in their blue tunics and silver braid they made a brave show in the sunshine. The three watched now without word or motion. The sudden sight held them spellbound. Not one of them thought of sending to warn the Prince. If they had, the thought would have been useless unless it had chimed in with Mistitch's will. Twenty men could have been on them before there was time to saddle a horse. If the expedition were a hostile one, the Castle was caught napping in very truth ! Sophy stood forward a pace in front of her com- panions ; her hand rested on the little revolver which Monseigneur had given her. On came the company ; the foremost file reached v/ithin twenty yards of the causeway. There they halted. Half of them dismounted, each man as he did so entrusting his horse to his next fellow. Half of the fifty thus left mounted repeated this operation, leaving the remaining twenty-five in charge of all the horses. The seventy-five took position four deep on the road. They separated, lining either side. The figure of their commander now appeared. He rode to the foot of the causeway, then dismounted, and gave his horse to the sergeant who attended him. His men followed, and drew up in the road, blocking the approach to the Castle. Big Mistitch began to 302 INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. e Hussars he Army, d soldiers was their inics and sunshine, r motion. Not one rince. If ess unless enty men s time to >stile one, i! her com- ber which i reached lere they an as he w. Half •peration, of all the : deep on ^« red. He mounted, ded him. blocking began to ascend the causeway, a Lioad smile ou In, face It vvas a great moment for Captain Hercules-the day of revenge for which he had waited in forced patLnce and discreet unobtrusiveness. It was a critica day also m view of the instructions he had. To do hiS justice, he was not afraid. Sophy saw and knew. This must have been the news that 2erkovitch carried, that he had gllLed on to tell to the Prince at Volseni. Some'vent- ZZaZ Tu ""^ ""'°""<' *"™ °f fortune-had oosed M.st.tch .. r:i.em ! That was all she had time to real^e before Mistitch saluted her and spoke: Dobrava r- °^ ""^^'"'''"^ *« ^"^^^^^ and^knX™""^"' '''■'"'' "^^'^'"'^'^'''^''• for"t°at."°"'"'' '°^"'^" ''"' ^ ''" ""^ P'^^^^n'^r "Your business with me, please?" .Xhi:-wSi^'"^ """-'' '^'"'^--^-">^" II You 're a strange messenger to send." r 1 I *c' ^ P°'"* *° P"^ *° "^y superior officer Colonel Stafnitz, who sent me, Baroness." ' suppt^r*^' ^^ '^^ "^^"- "Y-ri<^e strongly " Again the Colonel's orders, Baroness. I confess the precautions seemed to me excessive. I had no 303 -!;^i^i'^»i''-!si^**rU!mmii--,',. B i; ilil':'; 1; i . I ||!i 'tti m ff' pP '^^'■, Pi Jii: so IJY OF KRAVONIA. doubt you would willingly obey His Majesty's com- mands. Here, by the way, is the written order." He produced the order the King had signed before his death. Sophy had been thinking. Neither her courage nor her cunning forsook her. She waved the docu- ment away. "I can take your word, Captain? You're making no mistake to-day? — I really am Baroness Dobrava — not somebody else with whom you have a feud ? " She laughed at him gaily and went on: "Well, I'm ready. I'm dressed for a ride — and I '11 ride with you immediately. In two minutes we '11 be off." She saw a groom in the road staring at the troopers, and called to him to bring her a horse. This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to his devices — and, in a little while, to his revenge. " I mustn't hurry 30U. You have some prepara- tions ? " "None," said Sophy. Her horse was led out into the road. " You '11 at least desire to acquaint his Royal Highness ? " "Not at all necessary. Baron von Hollbrandt can do that later on." Mistitch looked puzzled. Sophy smiled ; her intuition had been right. The attack on her was a feint, her arrest a blind; the Prince was the real 304 y s com- 1 order." d before courage he docu- 3aptain ? laily am h whom aily and id for a In two the road to bring ) suited how his *rince to jnge. prepara- led out s Royal llbrandt id ; her her was the real i ready. i ! oh'y Mis one (I tha Ca ] asl< gie wil ba< jot Pr po I 1 thi If'; an da rej l0( be I INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ. object of the move. She stepped down towards Mistitch. " I see my horse is ready. We can start at once, Captain," she said. " I 'm ir<^tructed to express to the Prince regret that it should be necessary " "The regret will be conveyed to him. Come, Captain ! " But Mistitch barred her way. " His Royal Highness is in the Castle ? " he asked. His voice grew angry now; he feared the gieat stroke had failed; he saw that Sophy played with him. How would be and his escort look riding back to Slavna with nothing to show for their journey save the capture of one unresisting woman — a woman whom they dared not harm while the Prince remained free — and might become all powerful ? " If he had been, you 'd have known it by n^ w, I think," smiled Sophy. " No, the Prince isn't at the Castle." " I *11 see that for myself! " Mistitch cried, taking a step forward. With a low laugh Sophy drew aside, passed him, and ran down the causeway. In an instant she darted betv.r'jn the ranks of Mistitch's men and reached her horse. The groom mounted her. She looked up to Mistitch and called to him gaily, " Now for Slavna, Captain ! And hurry, or you '11 be left behind!" 'ti ai 305 s s I*. •< i\u: sr'i i''. ! f^ , r» ! t,t< i m SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. were two dozen men vowed to have his life. They must have it — but at what price ? His savage valour set the figure high. It was the old fight again, but not in the old manner. There was no delicate sword-play, no fluctuating fortunes in the fray. It was all stern and short. The King had not drawn his sword, Mistitch did not seek to draw his. Two shots rang out sharply — that was all. The King reeled in his saddle, but maintained his seat. Big Mistitch threw his hands above his head with a loud cry and fell with a mighty crash on the road, shot through the head. Peter Vassip ran to the King and helped him to dismount, while Max von Hollbrandt held his horse. Sophy hurried to where they laid him by t^e roadside. ** Disarm these fellows ! " cried Zerkovitch. But Mistitch's escort were in no mood to wait for this operation, nor to stay and suffer the anger of the King. With their leader's fall the last of heart was out of them. Wrenching themselves free from such of the Volsenians as sought to arrest their flight, they turned their horses* heads and fled, one and all, for Slavna. The King's men attempted no pursuit : they clustered round the spot where he lay. " I 'm hit," he said to Sophy, " but not badly, I think." From the Castle door, down the causeway, came Marie Zerkovitch, weeping passionately, wringing 314 TO THE FAITHFUL CITY. her hands. The soldiers parted their close ranks to let her through. She came to the roadside where Sophy supported Monseigneur's head upon her knees. Sophy looked up and saw her. Marie did not speak. She stood there sobbing and wringing her hands over Sophy and the wounded King That afternoon-an hour after the first of the straggling rout of Mistitch's escort came in-King en?" Tu 'IJf'^'"'^' ^° '^" 'he official notice! endorsed by Dr. Natcheffs high authority. The cotenewerem up to their necks; they could not go back now; they must go through with it Countess EUenburg took to her kneesi Stenovics and Stafmtz held long conversations. Every point of tactical importance in the city was occupied by troops. Slavna was silent, expectant, curious. Markart awoke at five o'clock, heavy of head, dry n the mouth, sick and ill. He found himself no longer ,n the King's suite, but in one of the apart" ments which Stafnitz had occupied. He was all alone; the door stood open. He understood that waslead° ""' ' ''""°''"'' ^' '"^^ ^''^^ *^ ^ing But who else was dead-and who alive-and who iiing m Slavna ? He forced himself to rise, and hurried through the corridors of the Palace. They were deserted; here was nobody to hinder him. nobody of whom to ask a question. He saw a decanter of brandy standinfT near fV.« a — - -r .. , «."uy — -o .icd. ,„^ ^u„r uj ojjg room, and drank 3^5 ^I '^vWj^Uj^PiliVijWK&^m mi^mmmmmmmmm,^ . .... i' -t Bi,'- • M « SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. freely of it. Then he made his way into the garden. He saw men streaming over the bridge towards Slavna, and hastened after them as quickly as he could. His head was still in a maze; he remem- bered nothing after drinking the glass of wine which Lepage the valet had given him. But he was possessed by a strong excitement, and he followed obstinately in the wake of the throng which set from the Palace and the suburbs into Slavna. The streets were quiet ; soldiers occupied the corners of the ways ; they looked curiously at Markart's pale face and disordered uniform. A dull roar came from the direction of St. Michael's Square, and thither Markart aimed his course. He found all one side of the square full of a dense crowd, swaying, jostling, talking. On the other side troops were massed ; in an open space in front of the troops, facing the crowd, was Colonel Stafnitz, and by his side a little boy on a white pony. Markart was too far off to hear what Stafnitz said when he began to speak — nay, the cheers of the troops behind the Colonel came so sharp on his words as almost to drown them; after a moment's hesitation (as it seemed to Markart), the crowd of people on the other side of the square echoed ba -k the acclamations of the soldiers. All Countess EUenburg's ambitions were at stake ; for Stenovics and Stafnitz it was now a matter of life itself, so daringly had they raised their hands 316 TO THE FAITHFUL CITY. against King Sergius. Countess Ellenburg had indeed prayed -and now prayed all alone in a deserted Palace- but not one of the three had hesitated. At the head of a united army, in the name of a united people, Stafnitz had demanded the proclamation of young Alexis as King. For an hour Stenovics had made a show of demurring ; then he bowed to the national will. That night yorn^ Alexis enjoyed more honour than he had asked of Lepage the vdet-he was called not Prince, but Majesty He was King in Slavna, and the first work to which they set his childish hand was the proclam- ation of a state of siege. .i,^^t-^!-''^°'^.^^"' willingly-or because it must at the biddmg of the soldiers. But Volseni was of another mmd. They would not have the German woman s son to reign over them. Into that faithful frie^nds^ wounded King threw himself with all his The body of Mistitch lay all day and all night by the wayside. Next morning at dawn the King's grooms came back from Volseni and buried it under a clump of trees by the side of the lane running down to Lake Talti. Their curses were the only words spoken over the grave; and they flattened the earth level with the ground again, that none might know where the man rested who had lifted his hand against their master. The King was carried to Volseni sore stricken • they did not know whether he would live or die. He 317 I if '•'-'■■mh^^mM-^^:^Kmmmxih:^=^M>^^\:i: II ' ... H' I IS;* SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. had a dangerous wound in the 1 sings, and, to make matters worse, the surgical skill available in ^^olseni was very primitive. But in that regard fortune brought aid, ar .1 brought a-so to Sophy a str-iiige conjuncture of tbe new life with the ol.I, The landlord of the inn sent word to Lukovitch llsat iwo foreign gentlemen had arrived at his house that afternoon, and that the passport of one of the.r.\ inscribed him as a surgeon ; the landlord had told i.>im how things stood, and he was anxious to render help. It was Basil Williamson. Dunstanbury and he, accompanied ly Henry Brown, Dunstanbury's ser- vant, had reached Volseni that day on their return from a tour in the Crimea and round the shores of the Sea of Azof. 318 CHAPTER XIX. THE SILVER RING. IT was late at night, and quiet reigned in Volseni ■ —the quiet not of security, but of ordered vigilance. A light burned in every house; men lined the time-worn walls and camped in the market- place; there were scouts out on the road as far as Praslok. No news came from outside, and no news yet from the room in the guardhouse where the wounded King lay. The street on which the room looked was empty, save for one man, who walked patiently up and down, smoking a cigar. Dunstanbury waited for Basil Williamson, who was in attendance on the King and was to pronounce to Volseni whether he could live or must die. Dunstanbury had been glad that Basil could'be of use, but for the rest he had listened to the story which Zerkovitch told him with an amused, rather contemptuous indifference— with an Englishman's wonder why other countries cannot manage their affairs better, and something of a traveller's pleasure at coming in for a bit of such vivid, almost blazing " local colour " in the course of his journey. But whether Alexis reigned, or Sergius, mattered nothing 319 hiffl SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. to him, and, in his opinion, very little to anybody else. Nor had he given much thought to the lady whose name figured so prominently in Zerkovitch's narra- tive, the Baroness Dobrava. Such a personage seemed no less appropriate to the surroundings than the rest of the story — no less appropriate and certainly not a whit more important. Of course he hoped Basil would make a good report, but his mind was not disturbed ; his chief hope was that the claims of humanity would not prolong his stay in Volseni beyond a few days. It was a picturesque little place, but not one for a long visit ; and in any case he was homeward bound now, rather eager for the pleasures of the London season after his winter journey — the third he had made in the interests of a book on Russia which he had in contemplation, a book designed to recommend him as an expert student of foreign affairs. He could hardly con- sider that these goings-on in Kravonia came within the purview of a serious study of his subject. But it was a pleasant moonlit night, the old street was very quaint, the crisis he had happened on bizarre and amusing. He smoked his cigar and waited for Basil without impatience. He had strolled a hundred yards away and just turned to loiter back, when he saw a figure come out of the guardhouse, pause for a moment, and then advance slowly towards him. The sheepskin cap and tunic made him think at first that the 320 THE SILVER RING. Stranger was one of the Volsenian levy; the next moment he saw the skirt. At once he guessed that he was in the presence of Baroness Dobrava, the heroine of the piece, as he had called her in his 6wn mind and with a smile. Evidently she meant to speak to him; he threw away his cigar and walked to meet her. As they drew near to one another he raised his hat. Sophy bowed gravely. Thus they met for the first time smce Sophy washed her lettuces in the scullery at Morpingham, and, at the young lord's bidding, fetched Lorenzo the Magnificent a bone. This meeting was, however remotely, the result of that Dunstanbury had started her career on the road which had led her to where she was. "I've seen Mr. Williamson," she said, "and he knows me now. But you don't yet, do you, Lord Dunstanbury ? And anyhow, perhaps, you wouldn't remember." She had been a slip of a girl when he saw her last m a prmt frcck, washing lettuces. With a smile and a deprecatory gesture he confessed his ignorance and his surprise. " Really I 'm afraid I— I don't. I 've been such a traveller, and meet so many " An acquaintance with Baroness Dobrava was among the last with which he would have credited himself— or perhaps (to speak his true thoughts) charged his reputation. "Mr. Williamson inew me almost directly— the moment I reminded him of my mark." She touched 22 321 'M *l«fe ■ 'i-'^ltf^^V^'* SOPHY or *:i vONIA. ii^-i --H-- -'Sf:. I her cheek. Dunstanbury looked more closely at her, a vague recollection stirring in him. Sonhy's face was very sad, yet she smiled ju-.w a htiie as she added : "I remember you so well — and your dog Lorenzo. I 'm Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, and I became lady Meg's companion. Now do you remember ? ' He stepped quickly up to her, peered into her eyes, and saw the Red Star. " Good Heavens 1 " he said, smiling at her in an almost helpless way. " Well, that is curious ! " he added. " Sophy Grouch ! And you ^re — Baroness Dobrava ? " "There's nothing much in that," said Sophy. " I '11 tell you all about that soon, if we have time. To-night I can think of nothing but Monseigneur. Mr. Williamson has extracted the bullet, but 1 'm afraid he 's very bad. You won't take Mr. Williamson away until — until it 's . ^tled— one wr or the other, will you ? " "Neither Basil nor I will leave so long as we c^ be of the least serv;ce to you," he told h(;:. AVith a sudden impulse she put her hands in his. "It's strangely good to find you here ..o-right — so strange and so good! It gives le st ength, and I want strength. Oh, my frien- ai brave men, but you — weii, there's something in home and the same blood, I suppose." Dunstanbury thought that there was certainly some- thing in having two Englishmen about, instead of 32a THE SILVER RING. Kravonians only, but such a blunt sentiment might not be acceptable. He pressed her hands as he released them. " I rejoice at the chance that brings us here. You can have every confidence in Basil. He's a first- rate man. But tell me about yourself. We have time now, haven't we?" "Renlly I suppose we have I Monseigneur has been put to sleep. But I couldn't sleep. Come, we'll go up on the wall." They mounted on to the city wall, just by the gate, and leant against the mouldering parapets. Below ' T Lake Talti in the moonlight, and beyond It the liicsses of the mountains. Yet while Sophy talked, D - stanbury's eyes seldom left her face; nay, once or twi-e he caught himself not listening,' but only iookin^ ^acing how she had grown from Sophy Grouch in her scullery to this. He had never forgotten the strange girl; once or twice he and Basil had talked of her; he had resented Lady Meg's brusque and unceremonious dismissal of her protegU; in his memory, half-overgrown, had kin the mark on Sophy's cheek. Now here she was in Kravonia, of all places— Baroness Dobrava, of all people! And what else, who knew? The train of events which had brought this about was strange; yet his greater wonder was for the woman her .elf. ' "And here we are!" she ended with a woeful smile. " If Monseigneur lives, I ^ hink wc shall win. — x^-- „,vr«zv-«i. t/c uaa uu no more than hold Et '.Ml \ f- ?''!l 323 if If * SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Volseni; I think we can do that. But presently, when he's better and can lead us, we shall attack. Down in Slavna they won't like being ruled by the Countess and Stenovics as much as they expect. Little by little we shall grow stronger." Her voice rose a little. " At last Monseigneur will sit firm on his throne," she said. "Then we'll see what we can do for Kravonia. It 's a fine country, and rich. Lord Dunstanbury, and outside Slavna the people are good material. We shall be able to make it very different — if Monseigneur lives." ** And if not ? " he asked in a low voice. " What is it to me except for Monseigneur ? If he dies ! " Her hands thrown wide in a gesture of despair ended her sentence. If she lived and worked for Kravonia, it was for Monseigneur's sake. Without him, what was Kravonia to her? Such was her mood; plainly she took no pains to conceal it from Dunstanbury. The next moment she turned to him with a smile. "You think I talk strangely, saying: * We '11 do this and that'? Yes, you must, and it's suddenly become strange to me to say it — to say it to you, because you 've brought back the old things to my mind, and all this is so out of keeping with the old things — with Sophy Grouch, and Julia Robins, and Morpingham! But until you came it didn't seem strange. Everything that has happened since I came to this country seemed to lead up to it — to bring it about naturally anu irresistiL/iy. T f^fn, *■ 1. IWl p till I'l ilia JX 334 t presently, hall attack, uled by the hey expect. Her voice 1 sit iirm on ee what we •y, and rich, , the people nake it very )ice. iigneur ? If in a gesture , it was for what was )od ; plainly >unstanbury. fith a smile. le '11 do this 's suddenly .y it to you, lings to my with the old Robins, and didn't seem since I came it — to bring rg t till just I 14 '^^^1 rff %>^^^^^^^^| i,'^ -i^mmm«>^f' THE SILVER RING. now how funny it must sound to you—and how- how bad, I suppose. Well, you must accustom yourself to Kravonia. It 's not Essex, you know." *' If the King lives ? " he asked. "I shall be with Monseigneur if he lives," she answered. Yes, it was very strange ; yet alread}-, even now— - when he had known her again for half an hour, had seen her and talked to her— gradually and insidiously it began to seem less strange, less fantastic, more natural. Dunstanbury had to give himself a mental shake to get back to Essex and to Sophy Grouch, Volseni set old and grey amid the hills, the King whose breath struggled with his blood for life, the beautiful woman who would be with the King if and so long as he lived— these were the present realities he saw in vivid immediate vision; they made the shadows of the past seem not indeed dim— they kept^ all their distinctness of outline in memory— but in their turn fantastic, and in no relation to the actual. Was that the air of Kravonia working on him ? Or was it a woman's voice, the pallid pride of a woman's face ? " In Slavna they call me a witch," she said, " and tell terrible tales about this little mark— my Red Star. But here in Volseiii they like me— yes, and I can win over Slavna too, if I get the opportunity. No, I shan't be a weakness to Monseigneur if he lives." « VoM Ml be- ll 1 Hi, 335 5 ,.i SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "His wife?" she interrupted. "Yes." She smiled again— nay, almost laughed. "That seems worst of all— worse than anything else ? " Dunstanbury allowed himself to smile too. "Well, yes, of course that's true," he said. "Out of Kravonia, anyhow. What's true in Kravonia I really don't know yet." " I suppose it 's true in Kravonia too. But what I tell you is Monseigneur's will about me." He looked hard at her. " You love him ? " he asked. "As my life, and more," said Sophy simply. At last Dunstanbury ceased to look at her; he laid his elbows on the battlements and stood there, his eyes roaming over the lake in the valley to the mountains beyond. Sophy left his side and began to walk slowly up and down the rugged, uneven, overgrown surface of the walls. The moon was sinking in the sky ; there would be three or four dark hours before the dawn. A man galloped up to the gate and gave a countersign in return to a cliallenge ; the heavy gates rolled open ; he rode in ; another rode out and cantered off along the road towards Praslok. There was watch and ward — Volseni was not to be caught napping as Praslok had been. Whether the King lived or died, his Volsenians were on guard. Dunstanbury turned his back on the hills and came up to Sophy. " We Essex folk ought to stand by one another," he said. " It 's the merest chance that has 3a6 -r3riiW!ni;WjrVT' THE SILVER RING. brought me here, but I 'm glad of the chance now. And it's beginning to feel not the least strange. So long as you've need of help, count me among your soldiers." " But you oughtn't to mix yourself up " "Did you act on that principle when you came to Kravonia?" With a smile Sophy gave him her hand. "So be it. I accept your service— for Monseigneur.'* "I give it to you," he persisted. "Yes — and all that is mine I give to Mon- seigneur," said Sophy. Any man who meets, or after an interval of time meets again, an attractive woman, only to find that her thoughts are pre-empted and totally pre- occupied, suffers an annoyance not the less real because he sees the absurdity of it; it is to find shut a gate which with better luck might have been open. The unusual circumstances of his new encounter with Sophy did not save Dunstanbury from this common form of chagrin; the tragic element in her situation gave it a rather uncommon flavour. He would fain have appeared as the knight-errant to rescue such beauty in such distress ; but the nature of the distress did not seem favour- able to the proper romantic sequel. ^ He made his offer of service to her ; she assigned him to the service of Monseigneur ! He laughed at his own annoyance — and determined to serve Mon- seiffnenr as \xr*»11 «>e Ua. rr'^l'^ a* *u^ j.: If li m rr>m 327 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. while conceding most amply— nay, even feeling— Monseigneur's excuse, he could not admire his policy in the choice of a bride. That was doubtless a sample of how things were done in Kravonia I He lived to feel the excuse more strongly— and to pronounce the judgment with greater hesitation. Sophy had given him her hand again as she accepted his offer in Monseigneur's name. He had not yet released it when she was called from the street below in a woman's voice — a voice full of haste and alarm. " Marie Zerkovitch calls me ! I must go at once," she said. " I expect Monseigneur is awake." She hurried off with a nod of farewell. Dunstanbury stayed a little while on the wall, smoking a cigarette, and then went down into the street. The door of the guardhouse was shut; all was very quiet as he passed along to the market- place where the inn was situated. He went up to his room overlooking the street and, taking off his coat only, flung himself on the bed. He was minded thus to await Basil Williamson's return with news of the King. But the exciteinent of the day had wearied him; in ten minutes he was sound asleep. He was aroused by Basil Williamson's hand on his shoulder. The young doctor, a slim-built, dark, wiry fellow, looked very weary and sad. " How has it gone ? " asked Dunstanbury, sitting up. " It 's been a terrible night. I 'm glad you 've 3a8 ren feeling — admire his ras doubtless avonia I He gly — and to hesitation, gain as she le. He had ed from the ^oice full of go at once," She vake." )n the wall, wn into the as shut; all the market- went up to king off his was minded vith news of le day had lund asleep. I's hand on -built, dark, [. 3ury, sitting ;lad you 've B l 'jMii ' ' ' »' Is. h nr , I ''And then and there the King may vied her! ^' ^^""fl^^^WF^^TP^ ^"' f' ' 3J9 THE SILVER RING. had some sleep. He awoke after an hour; the hemorrhage had set in again. I had to tell him it was a thousand to one against him. He rent for her, and made me leave them alone together. There was only one other room, and I waited there with a little woman-a Madame Zerkovitch-who cried terribly Then he sent for Lukovitch, who seems to be the chief man in the place. Presently Lukovitch went away, and I went back to the King. I found him terribly exhausted; she was there, sitting by him and whispering to him now and then; she seemed calm. Presently Lukovitch came back ; ihe Zerkovitches and the German man came too. They all came in-the King would not hear my objections --and with them came a priest. And then and there the King married her ! She spoke to nobody except to me before the service began, and then she only said : Monseigneur wishes it.' I waited till the service was done, but I could bear no more. I went outside while they shrived him. But I was called back hurriedly. Then the end came vei^- soon-m less than half an hour. He sent everybody away except her and me; and when I had done all that was possible, I went as far off as I could-into the corner of the room. I came back at a call from her just before he died. The man was looking extraordinarily happy, Dunstanbury." " They were married ? " "Oh, yes. Ifs all right, I suppose-not that see.ns to matter much now, does it? Put on 329 ui \. SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. your coat and come to the window. You'll see a sight you'll remember, I think." Together they went to the window. The sun had risen from behind the mountains and flooded the city with light; the morning air was crisp and fragrant. The market-place was thronged with people — men in line in front, women, girls, and boys in a mass behind. They were all absolutely quiet and silent. Opposite where they were was a raised platform of wood, reached by steps from the ground ; it was a rostrum for the use of those who sold goods by auction in the market. A board on trestles had been laid on this, and on the board was stretched the body of the King. At his feet stood Lukovitch ; behind were Max von Hollbrandt, Zerkovitch, and Marie. At the King's head stood Sophy, and Peter Vassip knelt on the ground beside her. She stood like a statue, white and still; but Dunstanbury could see the Red Star glowing. Lukovitch seemed to have been speaking, although the sound of his voice had not reached them through the closed window of the topmost room in the inn. He spoke again now — not loudly, but in a very clear voice. "The King lies dead through treachery," he said. " In Slavna the German woman rules, and her son, and the men who killed the King. Will you have them to rule over you, men of Volseni ? " A shout of ** No ! " rang out, followed again by rd 330 THE SILVER RING. that he wore and raised it in the air. All the armed men followed his example; the rest, with the women and young people, raised their right hands. It was their custom in calling Heaven to witness. "God hears us!" said Lukovitch, and all the people repeated the words after him. Dunstanbury whispered to Basil : " Do they mean to fight ? " An eagerness stirred in his voice. " Listen ! He 's speaking again." "Whom then will you have for your King, men of Volseni?" asked Lukovitch. "There is one on whose finger the King has put the silver ring of the Bailiffs of Volseni. With his own hand he set it there before he died-he set it there when he made her his Queen, as you have heard. Will you have the Bailiff of Volseni for your King ? " A great shout of " Yes ! " answered him. " You will have Sophia for your King ? " " Sophia for our King ! " they cried. Lukovitch raised his sword again; all raised swords or hands. The solemn words "God hears us!" were spoken from every mouth. Lukovitch turned to Sophy and handed his drawn sword to her. She took it. Then she knelt down and kissed the King's lips. Rising to her feet again, she stood for a moment silent, looking over'' the thronged market-square; yet she seemed hardly to see; her eyes were vacant. At last she raised the sword to her lips, kissed it, and then held it high ill the air. 1 ' "li 331 ^il SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. j!. ^ "It was Monseigneur's wish. Let us avenge him ! God hears me ! " ** God hears you ! " came all the voices. The ceremony was finished. Six men took up the board on which the King lay, carried it down from the rostrum, and along the street to the guard- house. Sophy followed, and her friends walked after her. Still she seemed as though in a dream; her voice had sounded absent, almost unconscious. She was pale as death, save for the Red Star. Following her dead, she passed out of sight. Immediately the cro'vd began to disperse, though most of the men v i;.L arms gathered round Luko- vitch and seemed to fi-vait his orders. Basil Williamson ir.oved away from the window with a heavy sigh and a gesture of dejection. "I wish we could get her safe out of it," he said. " Isn't it wonderful, her being here ? " "Yes— but I'd forgotten that." Dunstanbury was still by the window; he had been thinking that his service now would not be to Monseigneur. Yet no doubt Basil had mentioned the wisest form of service. Sophy's own few words — the words for which she cited Heaven's witness — hinted at another. But Basil had recalled his mind to the marvel. Moved as he had been by his talk with Sophy, and even more by the scene which had just been enacted before his eyes, his face lit up with a' smile as he looked across to Basil. 33a ^mmmv*^ THE SILVER RING. "Yes, old fellow, wonderful! Sophy Grouch' Queen of Kravonia ! It beats Macbeth hollow!" " It 's pretty nearly as dreary ! " said Basil, h a discontented grunt. "I find it pretty nearly as exciting," Dunstan- bury said. "And I hope for a happier ending. Meanwhile "-he buckled the leather belt which held his revolver round his waist—" I 'm for some breakfast, and then I shall go and ask that tall fellow who did all the talking if there 's anything I can do for King Sophia. By Jove, wouldn't Cousin Meg open her eyes ? " "You'll end by getting yourself stuck up against the wall and shot," Basil grumbled. "If I do, I'm quite sure of one thing, old fellow— and that is that your wooden old mug will be next in the line or thereabouts." "I say, Dunstanbury, I wish I could have saved him ! " "So do I. Did you notice her face?" Williamson gave a scornful toss of his head. " Well, yes, I was an ass to ask that " Dunstanbury admitted candidly. It would certainly not have been easy to avoid noticing Sophy's face. At six o'clock that morning Max von Hollbrandt took horse for Slavna. His diplomatic character at once made it proper for him to rejoin his Legation and enabled him to act as a messenger with safety to himself. He carried the tidings of the death of the King and of the proclamation 333 !i;i M '.-il iM ! IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) %% ^^ a :/, 7a 1.0 I.I lLi5 IIIIIJA 1111.6 V <^ /i

A"' v\ <> % •%^ Ua 9 SOPHY OP KRAVONIA. of Sophy. There was no coiicealment. Volseni's defiance to Slavna was open and avowed. Volseni held that there was no true Stefanovitch left, and cited the will of the last of the Royal House as warrant for its choice. The gauntlet was thrown down with a royal air. It was well for Max to get back to his post. The diplomatists in Slavna, and their chiefs at home, were soon to be busy with the affairs of Kravonia. Mistitch had struck at the life of even more than his King— that was to become evident before many days had passed. 334 . * i^JtifH^^^ .^*Jf^^J^|^^^6jf* :. Volseni's ;d. Volseni ch left, and 1 House as was thrown o his post, r chiefs at i affairs of life of even me evident CHAPTER XX. THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA. IT is permissible to turn with some relief- although of a kind more congenial to the cynic than to an admirer of humanity-from ^^i^'^^ Z u^""^' ^° ^°^^^^^ *° '^^ comedy of lnT\y. u^ ^'^f '° ^"^^^°P ^^^^If in Slavna Alexis. '^" proclamation of young The first result of this auspicious event, following so cosely on the issue of Captain Mistitch's expe! dition was to give all the diplomatists bad colds. Some took to their beds, others went for a chant of air; but one and all had such colds as woufd tronrnJr''"' '^^"^ ^^^^"^ ^^^^P^^^^ royal invita tions or being present at State functions. Youn^ Alexis had a cold too, and was consequently unablf o issue royal invitations or take his part in sta e Z:T\ ""T"''' ^"^"^"^S was%veL moe affected-she had lumbago; and even General fewTays'. "" *'""' '' '^^P ^^'^ ^-* for a Only Colonel Stafnitz's health seemed proof against the prevailing epidemic. He was consta^ly 335 ' r ' ;" 'Si 'II '^mimmgfffi^ ■'r^Ki^-as--,. .-•'' SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. i . I to be seen about, very busy at the barracks, very busy at Suleiman's Tcwer, very gay and cheerful on the terrace of the Hotel de Paris. But then he, of course, had been in no way responsible for recent event". Ke was a soldier, and had only obeyed orders; naturally his health was less affected. He was, in fact, in very good spirits, and in very good temper except when he touched on poor Captain Hercules' blundering violent ways. " Not the man for a delicate mission," he said decisively to Captain I\Iarkart. The Captain forbore to remind him how it was chat Mistitch had been sent on one. The way in which the Colonel expressed his opinion made it clear that such a reminder wor.Id not be welcome. The coterie which engineered the revolution was set at sixes and sevens by its r.uccesp. The destruction of their common enemy was also the removal of their common interest. Sophy at Volseni did not seem a peril real enough or near enough to bind them together. Countess Ellenburg wanted to be Regent ; Stenovics v/as for a Council, with him- self in the chair. Stafnitz thought himself the obvious man to be Commandant of Slavna; Stenovics would have agreed — only it was necessary to keep an eye on Volseni ! Now if he were to be Commandant, while the Colonel took the field with a small but picked force ? The Colonel screwed up his mouth at that. " Make Praslok your head- quarters, and you'll soon bring the Sheepskins to 336 ^ ■*^*^'^"*^!i'i!IINP'P THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA. Tracks, very cheerful on : then he, of 2 for recent anly obeyed ffected. He n very good oor Captain [ot the man / to Captain nd him how 1 one. The his opinion Dv.ld not be 2 revolution cces?. The 'as also the y at Volseni r enough to ■g wanted to I, with him- himself the of Slavna; IS necessary i were to be le field with nel screwed your head- leepskins to their senses," Stenovics advised insidiously. Stafnitz preferred headquarters in Suleiman's Tower' He was not sure that coming back from Praslok with a small force, however picked, would be quite as easy as gomg there. In the back of both men's minds there was a bit of news which had just come to hand. Th^ big guns had been delivered, and were on their way to Slavna coming down the Krath in barges. They were consigned to the Commandant. Who was that important officer now to be ? When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own. The venerable saying involves one postulate- that there shall be honest men to do it. In high places in Slavna this seemed to be a difficulty and it is .lot so certain that Kravonia's two great nei-h- hours, to east and west, quite filled the gap. These Powers were exchanging views now. They were mightily shocked at the way Kravonia had been going on. Their Ministers had worse colds than any of the other Ministers, and their Press had a great deal to say about civilisation and suchlike topics. Kravonia was a rich country, and its geographical position was important. The his, rv of the world seems to show that the standard of civilisation and morality demanded of a country depends largely on its richness and the importance of Its geographical position. The neighbour on the west had plenty of moun- tains, but wanted some fertile plains. The neighbour 98 337 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. II 1^. ■iHi on the east had fertile plains adjacent to the Kra- yonian frontier, and would like to hold the mountain line as a protection to them. A far-seeing states- man would have discerned how important correct behaviour was to the interests of Kravonia ! The great neighbours began to move in the matter, but they moved slowly. They had to see that their own keen sense of morality was not opposed to the keen sense of morality of other great nations. The right to feel specially outraged is a matter for diplomatic negotiations, often, no doubt, of great delicacy. So in the meantime Slavna was left to its own devices for a little longer— to amuse itself in its light-hearted, unremorseful, extremely unconscien- tious way, and to frown and shake a distant fist at grim, grey, sad little Volseni in the hills. With the stern and faithful band who mourned the dead Prince neither Stenovics nor Stafnitz seemed for the moment inclined to try conclusions, though each would have been very glad to see the other under- take the enterprise. In a military regard, moreover, they were right. The obvious thing, if Sophy still held out, was to wait for the big guns. When once these were in position, the old battlements of Volseni could stand scarcely longer than the walls of Jericho. And the guns were at the head of navigation on the Krath now, waiting for an escort to convoy them to Slavna. Max von Hollbrandt— too insignificant a person to feel called upon to have a cold— moved about Slavna, much amused with the situation, and 338 THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA. It to the Kra- the mountain -seeing states- ortant correct avonia ! The be matter, but that their own d to the keen s. The right For diplomatic delicacy, ft to its own i itself in its ' unconscien- distant fist at hills. With ned the dead eemed for the though each other under- ird, moreover, if Sophy still When once nts of Volseni lis of Jericho, gation on the nvoy them to isignificant a cold — moved situation, and highly gratihed that the fruit which the coterie had plucked looked like turning bitter in their mouths. Withm the Palace on the river bank young Alexis was strutting his brief hour, vastly pleased; but Countess Ellenburg was at her prayers again, praying rather mdiscrimmately against everybody who mi-^ht be dangerous-against Sophy at Volseni; against the big neighbours, whose designs began to be whispered; against Stenovics, who was fighting so hard for him- self that he gave little heed to her or to her dignitv • against Stafnitz, who might leave her the dignitV such as It was, but certainly, if he established his own supremacy, would not leave her a shred of power. Perhaps there were spectres also against whose accusing shades she raised her petition-the man she had deluded, the man she had helped to kill ; but that theme seems too dark for the comedy of S avna m these days. The most practical step she took so far as this world goes, was to send a very sohd sum of money to a bank in Dresden; it sw' ""'"' ''"''''''"'' '^' ^^^ ^'-^^^^ ^^-^ Matters stood thus-young Alexis having been on the throne m Slavna, and Sophy in Volseni, for one week--when Lepage ventured out from Zerkovit^h's sheltenng roof. He had suffered from a chill by no means purely diplomatic; but, apart from that! he had been in no hurry to show himself; he feared to see Rastatz's rat-face peering for him. But a 1 wis quiet. Sterkoff and Rastatz were busy with their 339 c n I s. I idkttt'.sSfc.fip*^ k.1 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. )■ I Colonel in Suleiman's Tower. In fact nobody took any notice of Lepage ; his secret, once so vital, was now gossip of the market-place. He was secure, but he was also out of a situation. He walked somewhat forlornly into St. Michael's Square, and, as luck would have it— Lepage thought it very bad luck— the first man he ran against was Captain Markart. Uneasy in his conscience, Lepage tried to evade the encounter, but the Captain was of another mind. His head was sound again, and, on cool reflection, he was glad to have slept through the events of what Stenovics' proclamation had styled "the auspicious day." He seized little Lepage by the arm, greeted him with cordiality, and carried him off to drink at the Golden Lion. Without imputing any serious lack of sobriety to his com- panion, Lepage thought that this refreshment was not the first of which the good-humoured Captain had partaken that forenoon; his manner was so very cordial, his talk so very free. " Well, here we are ! " he said. " We did our best, you and I, Lepage ; our consciences are clear. As loyal subjects, we have now to accept the existing regime.'* " What is it ? " asked Lepage. " I 've been indoors a week." "It's Alexis— still Alexis! Long live Alexis!" said Markart, with a laugh. "You surely don't take Baroness Dobrava into account?" " I just wanted to know," said Lepage, drinking 340 ■twi; •;sr,8»K#-*<'-i nobody took so vital, was s secure, but 5t. Michael's 3age thought against was 2nce, Lepage Captain was i again, and, lept through )n had styled I Lepage by and carried I. Without to his com- shment was red Captain ner was so Ne did our es are clear, the existing 3een indoors ^e Alexis ! " lurely don't je, drinking thoughtfully. "And— er— Captain— behind Alexis? Guiding the youthful King ? Countess Ellenburg ? " " No doubt, no doubt. Behind him his very pious mother, Lepage." "And behind her?" persisted Lepage. Markart laughed, but cast a glance round and shook his head. " Come, come, Captain, don't leave an old friend in the dark —just where information would be useful ! " "An old friend! Oh, when I remember my aching head! You think me very forgiving, Mon- sieur Lepage." " If you knew the night I spent, you 'd forgive me anything," said Lepage, with a shudder of reminiscence. ^^ "Ah, well," said Markart, 'ler another draught, " I'm a soldier— I shall obey my orders." "Perfect, Captain! And who will give them to you, do you think ? " That 's exactly what I 'm waiting to see. Oh, ^ 'Tf ^"'^"^^ prudent. No more adventures for me ! »' " I 'm quite of your mind ; but it 's so difficult to be prudent when one doesn't know which is the strongest side." '' You wouldn't go to Volseni ? " laughed Markart. "Perhaps not; but there are difficulties nearer home. If you went out of this door and turned to the left, you would come to the offices of the Council of Mmisters. If you turned to the nght, and thence 34» ill 11 SOPHY OF KRAVOXIA. to the right again, and on to the north wall, you would come, Captain, to Suleiman's Tower. Now, as I understand, Colonel Stafnitz " " Is at the Tower, and the General at the offices, eh?" " Precisely. Which turn do you mean to take ? " Markart looked round again. "I shall sit here for a bit longer," he said. He finished his liquor, thereby, perhaps, adding just the touch of openness lacking to his advice, and, leaning forward, touched Lepage on the arm : " Do you remember the Prince's guns— the guns for which he bartered Captain Hercules ? " " Aye, well ! " said Lepage. "They're on the river, up at Kolskoi, now. I should keep my eye on them ! They 're to be brought to Slavna. Who do you think will bring them ? Keep your eye on that ! " "They're both scoundrels," said Lepage, rising to go. Markart shrugged his shoulders. "The fruit lies on the ground for the man who can pick it up! Why not ? There 's nobody who 's got any right to it now." He expressed exactly the view of the two great neighbours, though by no means in the language which their official communications adopted. Stenovics knew their views very well. He had also received a pretty plain intim tion from Stafnitz that the Colonel considered the escorting of the 34a THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLVVNA. Dage, rising guns to Slavna as a purely military task, apper- taining not to the Ministry of State, but to the officer commanding the garrison in the capital. Stafnitz was that officer, and he proposed himself to go to Kolskoi. Suleiman's Tower, he added, would be left in the trustworthy hands of Captain Sterkoff. Again Stenovics fully understood ; indeed the Colonel was almost brutally candid. His letter was nothing less than plain word that power lay with the sword, and that the sword was in his own hand. Stenovics had got rid of King Sergius only to fall under the rule of Dictator Stafnitz! Was that to be the end of it? Stenovics preferred any other issue. The ideal thing was his own rule in the name of young Alexis, with such diplomatic honouring and humouring of Countess Ellenburg as might prove necessary. That was plainly impossible so long as Stafnitz was ma^t^r of the army; it would become finally hope- less k Sterkoff held Suleiman's Tower till Stafnitz brought the guns to Slavna. What, then, was Stenovics* alternative ? For he was not yet brought to giving up Ine game as totally lost. His name stood high, though his real power tottered on a most msecure foundation. He could get good terms for his assistance ; there was time to make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness. Privately, as became invalids, without the know- ledge of anyone outside their confidential entourage, the Representatives of the two great neighbours i-i 343 ',|*iii ( SOrHY OF KKWONIA. H • ' reccivcti General Stenovics. They are believed to have convinced him that, in the event of any further disorders in Kravonia, intervention could not be avoided; troops were on either frontier, ready for such an emerfjency; a joint occupation would be forced on the Allies. With a great deal of sorrow, no doubt, the General felt himself driven to accept this conclusion. He at once requested Stafnitz to fetch the guns to Slavna; he left the Colonel full discretion in the matter. His only desire was to ensure the tranquillity of the capital, and to show Volseni how hopeless it was to maintain the fanciful and absurd claims of Baroness Dobrava. The Repre- sentatives, it must be supposed, approved this attitude, and wished the General all success; at a later date his efforts to secure order, and to avoid the inevitable but regrettable result of any new disturbance, were handsomely acknowledged by both Powers. General Stenovics had not Stafnitz's nerve and dash, but he was a man of considerable resource. A man of good feeling too, to judge from another step he took— whether with the cognisance of the Representatives or entirely of his own motion has never become known. He waited till Colonel Stafnitz, who returned a civil and almost effusive reply to his communication, had set off to fetch the guns— which, as has been seen, had been unloaded from the railway and lay at Kolskoi, three days' 344 ■is««H. • „« mmmtc m tm i i¥ f > TlfEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA. journey up the Krati.; then he entered into com- mun.cation with Volseni. He sent Volseni a private and friendly warning. What was the use of Volseni holding out when the bij,^ g„ns were coming? It could mean only hopeless resistance, more disorder, more bloodshed. Let Volseni and the lady whose claims ,t supported consider that, be Wuined in time, and acknowledge King Alexis ! This letter he addressed to Zerkovitch. There were msuperable diplomatic difficulties in the way of addressmg ,t to Sophy directly. "Madam I may not call you, and Mistress I am loth to call you ^ said Queen Elizabeth to the Archbishop's wife- it I f\ /[ ^"''" °^ Kravonia. and she would be offended if he called her Baroness Dobrava. So the letter went to Zerkovitch, and it went by the hand of one of Zerkovitch's friends--so anxious was the General to be as polite and conciliatory as circum- stances permitted I ^^rcum- Much to his surprise, considerably to his alarm Lepage was sent for to the General's privaTe residence on the evening of the dav on™ Colonel Stafnitz set out for Kolskoi to feich the^ns Stenovics greeted him cordially, smoothed away his apprehensions, acquainted him with the nature of his mission and with the gist of the letter wh"ch he was to carry. Stenovics seemed more placid to.night than for some time back-possibly becaue he had got Stafnitz -""•-'-- -^ - -• ^ because I quietly out of Sla«, na. 345 i ! : ; W'i ]C t SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. "Beg Monsieur Zerkovitch to give tiie letter to Baroness Dobrava (He called lier that to Lepage) as soon as possible, and to urge her to listen to it. Add that we shall be ready to treat her with every consideration — any title in reason, and any provision in reason too. It *s all in my letter, but repeat it on my behalf, Lepage." «*I shouldn't think she'd take either title or money, General," said Lepage bluntly. "You think she's disinterested? No doubt, no doubt ! She '11 be the more ready to see the useless- ness of prolonging her present attitude." He grew almost vehement, as he laid his hand on a large map which was spread out on the table in front of him. "Look here, Lepage. This is Monday. By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at Kolskoi — here!" He put his finger by the spot. "On Thursday morning he'll start back. The barges travel well, and — ^yes — I think he'll have his guns here by Sunday ; less than a week from now ! Yes, on Thursday night he ought to reach Evena, on Friday Rapska, on Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on Saturday the lock at Miklevni ! That would bring him here on Sunday. Yes, the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, I think." He looked up at Lepage almost imploringly. " If she hesitates, show her that. They're bound to be here in less than a week!" Lepage cocked his head on one side and looked at the Minister thoughtfully. It all sounded very con- 346 »»»»l w Sl!WJ<«»«e.«If»MI^»»^» •Ji«r««»!*» the letter to to Lepage) listen to it. r with every .ny provision repeat it on her title or • o doubt, no 5 the useless- ," He grew [ on a large ble in front is Monday. z will be at jy the spot, back. The e'U have his ic from now ! each Evena, at Miklevni. That would k at Miklevni p at Lepage IS, show her less than a nd looked at ed very con- THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA. vincing. Colonel Stafnitz would be at the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, and on Sunday with the guns at Slavna. And, of course, arduous though the transport would be, they could be before Volseni in two or three days more. It was really no use resisting ! Stenovirc; passed a purse over to Lepage. ** For your nece. ary expenses," he said. Lepage took up the purse, which felt well filled, and pocketed it. "The Baroness mayn't fully appreciate what I've been saying," added Stenovics. " But Lukovitch knows every inch of the river-he '11 make it quite plain if she asks him about it. And present her with my sincere respects and sympathy-my sympathy with her as a private person, of course. You mustn't commit me in any way, Lepage." "I think," said Lepage, "that you're capable of looking after that department yourself. General. But aren't you making the Colonel go a little too fast ? " " No, no ; the barges will do about that." " But he has a large force to move, I suppose ? " "Oh, dear, no! A large force? No, no ! Only a company-just about a hundred strong, Lepage." He rose. "Just about a hundxed, I think." "Ah, then he might keep time! " Lepage agreed, still very thoughtfully. *- t, & " You '11 start at once ? " the General asked. " Within an hour." " That -s right. We must run no unnecessary risks ; delay might mean new troubles." 547 ■lii ■m SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. He held out his hand and shook Lepage's warmly. "You must believe that I respect and share your grief at the King's death." " Which King, General ? " " Oh ! oh ! King Alexis, of course ! We must listen to the voice of the nation. Our new King lives and reigns. The voice of the nation, Lepage ! " " Ah ! " said Lepage drily. " I 'd been suspecting some ventriloquists ! " General Stenovics honoured the sally with a broad smile. He thought the Representatives with colds would be amused if he repeated it. The pat on the shoulder which he gave Lepage was a congratulation. "The animal is so very inarticulate of itself," he said. 348 CHAPTER XXI. ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI I THOUGH not remote in distance, yet Volseni was apart and isolated from all that was hap- pening. Not only was nothing known of the two great neighbours — nothing reached men in Volseni of the state of affairs in Slavna itself. They did not know that the thieves were quarrelling over the plunder, nor that the diplomatists had taken cold • they had not bethought them of how the art of the ventriloquists would be at work. They knew only that young Alexis reigned in Slavna by reason of their King's murder and against the will of him who was dead; only that they had chosen Sophia for their Queen because she had been the dead Kings wife and his chosen successor. All the men who could be spared from labour came into the city; they collected what few horses they could ; they filled their little fortress with provisions. They could not go to Slavna, but they awaited with confidence the day when Slavna should dare to move against them into the hills. Slavna had never been able to beat them in their own hills 349 1 : iH 1 I w 1 ^i 1 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. (I 11 yet; the bolder spirits even implored Lukovitch to lead them down in a raid on the plains. Lukovitch would sanction no more than a scouting party, to see whether any movement were in progress from the other side. Peter Vassip rode down with his men to within a few miles of Slavna. For result of the expedition he brought back the news of the guns: the great guns, rumour said, had reached Kravonia and were to be in Slavna in a week. The rank and file hardly understood what that meant; anger that their destined and darling guns should fall into hostile hands was the feeling uppermost. But the tidings struck their leaders home to the heart. Lukovitch knew what it meant. Dunstanbury, who had served three years in the army at home, knew very well. Covered by such a force as Stafnitz could bring up, the guns could pound Volseni to pieces — and Volseni could strike back not a single blow. " And it 's all through her that the guns are here at all ! " said Zerkovitch, with a sigh for the irony of it. Dunstanbury laid his hand on Lukovitch's shoulder. " It 's no use," he said. "We must tell her so, and we must make the men understand. She can't let them have their homes battered to pieces — the town with the women and children in it — and all for nothing ! " "We san't desert her," Lukovitch protested. 350 ! ' i A ■W »*vement were • Vassip rode es of Slavna. jht back the rumour said, le in Slavna d what that darling guns the feehng their leaders ew what it i three years 11. Covered up, the guns ^olseni could ;uns are here ibr the irony Lukovitch's We must tell jrstand. She i to pieces — n it — and all >rote3ted. ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI Since Dunstanbury had offered his services to Sophy, he had assumed a leading part. His military training and his knowledge of the world gave him an influence over the rude simple men. Lukovitch ooked to him for guidance; he had much to say in the primitive preparations for defence. But now he declared defence to be impossible. ;; Who '11 tell her so ? " asked Basil Williamson. We must gtt her across the frontier," said Dun- stanbury. " There-by St. Peter's Pass-the way we came, Basil. It's an easy journey, and I don't suppose they'll try to intercept us. You can send twenty or thirty well-mounted men with us, can't you Lukovitch? A small party well-mounted is what we shall want." Lukovitch waved his hands sadly. " With the guns against us it would be a mere massacre ' If it must be, let it be as you say, my lord." His heart was very heavy; after generations of defiance, Vo seni must bow to Slavna, and his dead Lord's will go for nothing! All this was the doing of the great guns. ^ ^ Dunstanbury's argument was sound, but he argued from his heart as well as his head. He was con- vmced that the best service he could ^.ender to Sophy was to get her safely out of the country; his heart urged that her safety was the one and only thing to consider. As she went to and fro among 351 ip 1' l\ I I 'it. SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. i i w- ,1' 1; if; * them now, pale and silent, yet always accessible, always ready to listen, to consider, and to answer, she moved him with an infinite pity and a growing attraction. Her life was as though dead or frozen ; it seemed to him as though all Kravonia must be to her the tomb of him whose grave in the little hillside church of Volseni she visited so often. An ardent and overpowering desire rose in him to rescue her, to drag her forth from these dim cold shades into the sunlight of life again. Then the spell of this frozen grief might be broken ; then would her drooping glories revive and bloom again. Kravonia and who ruled there — aye, in his heart, even the fate of the gallant little city which harboured them, and whose interest he pleaded — were nothing to him beside Sophy. On her his thoughts were centred. Sophy's own mind in these days can be gathered only from what others saw. She made no record of it. Fallen in an hour from heights of love and hope and exaltation, she lay stunned in the abyss. In intellect calm and collected, she seems to have been as one numbed in feeling, too maimed for pain, suffering as though from a mortification of the heart. The simple men and women of Volseni looked on her with awe, and chattered fearfully of the Red Star: how that its wearer had been predestined to high enterprise, but foredoomed to mighty reverses of fortune. Amidst all their pity for her, they spoke of the Evil Eye ; some whispered that she had come 352 BTJTO.-. »ii. fO/r^ipn- I^Jfi: ys accessible, id to answer, ,nd a growing !ad or frozen ; ia must be to ! little hillside I. An ardent :o rescue her, 1 shades into ! spell of this n would her 1. Kravonia even the fate boured them, e nothing to loughts were 1 be gathered ! no record of love and hope le abyss. In 1 to have been led for pain, I of the heart, jni looked on r of the Red )redestined to ghty reverses ^r, they spoke she had come ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI ! to bring ruin on Volseni: had not the man who loved her lost both Crown and life ? And It was through her that the guns had come! h..rtrT! u i^' ^""' '^"^ 'P''^^ "°^ to every hearth; what had once been hailed as an achieve^ ment second only to her exploit in the Street of the Fountam served now to point more finely the harpemng fears of superstition. The men held by Suit C'' ,^'' 'u' "'^" ^^^^^ ^"' ^ stranger? sake^of her who wore that ominous inexplicable so.fl^f'!!'"'^.^"^^ ^^ '^''' L^kovitch hardly sought to deny it, though he was full of scorn for it^ and Mane Zerkovitch had by heart the tales of that from the first moment that they saw the Red hid crowned%' /°' '^°^^^ '^' ^"*^"^i^«^ that had crowned Sophy was turning into a fear which made the people shrink from her even while thev pitied even while they did not cease to love The hand of Heaven was against her and agist* those who were near her, said the women. ' The men still feigned not to hear; had they not taken Heaven to witness that they would seL her and avenge the King? Alas, their simple vow was too primitive for days like these-too primitive for the 04 353 l\ ■PI w m "^**^j^»T*.r-^.Tte M I ' ,1 b' I SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Dunstanbury had an interview with Sophy early on the Tuesday morning, the day after Stalnitz had started for Kolskoi. He put his case with the bluntness and honesty native to him. In his devotion to her safety he did not spare her the truth. She listened with the smile devoid of happiness which her face now wore so often. "I know it all," she said. "They begin to look differently at me as I walk through the street — when I go to the church. If I stay here long enough, they '11 all call me a witch ! But didn't they swear ? And I — haven't I sworn ? Are we to do nothing for Monseigneur's memory ? " " What can we do against the guns ? The men can die, and the walls be tumbled down! And there are the women and children!" ** Yes, I suppose we can do nothing. But it goes to my heart that they should have Monseigneui''s guns." "Your guns!" Dunstanbury reminded her with a smile of whimsical sympathy. ** That 's what they say in the city too ? " she asked. "The old hags, who are clever at the weather and other mysteries. And, of course, Madame Zerkovitch ! " Sophy's smile broadened a little. " Oh, of course poor little Marie Zerkovitch ! " she exclaimed. " She 's been sure I'm a witch ever since she 's known me." 354 ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNII Sophy early Stainitz had ise with the im. In his pare her the e devoid of often. )egin to look the street — ly here long But didn't ? Are we to 3 ? The men down ! And But it goes kfonseigneui''s id her with a / too ? " she the weather rse, Madame "Oh, of he exclaimed. : since she's (( I want you to come over the frontier with me— and Basil Williamson. I 've some influence, and I can ensure your getting through all right " "And then?" orde^"^*^"^^' y°" ^'ke. I shall be utterly at your She leant her head against the high chair in which she sat, a chair of old oak, black as her hair: siie faxed her profound eyes on his. "I wish I could stay here-in the little church- with Monseigneur," she said. "By heaven, no!" he cried, startled into sudden and untimely vehemence. "All my life is there," she went on, paying no heed to his outburst. ^ ^ "Give life another chance. You 're very young." You can't count life by years, any more than hours by minutes. You reckon the journey not bv the clock but by the stages you have passed. One; B^VJ ^^^"--^°d he was killed in battle. But hat was different. I was very hurt, but I wasn t maimed. I 'm maimed now by the death of Monseigneur." " You can't bring ruin on these folk, and you can't give yourself up to Stenovics." He could not trust himself to speak more of her feelings nor of the future ; he came back to the present needs of the case. It s true— and yet we swore ! » She leant Hi ^55 r SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. !? i i .. i ' 'I jl'. ! " We Essex men aren't ufiaid, we haven't enough imagination," he answered, smiling again. She threw herself back, crying low: "Ah, if we could strike one blow — ^just one — for the oath we swore and for Monseigneur ! Then perhaps I should be content." " To go with me ? " "Perhaps — if, in striking it, what I should think best didn't come to me." "You must run no danger, anyhow," he cried hastily and eagerly. " My friend," she said gently, " for such as I am to-day there 's no such thing as danger. Don't think I value my position here or the title they 've given me, poor men ! I have loved titles " — for a moment she smiled — "and I should have loved this one, if Monseigneur had lived. I should have been proud as a child of it. If I could have borne it by his side for even a few weeks, a few days ! But now it's barren and bitter — bitter and barren to me. >i He followed the thoughts at which her words hinted ; they seemed to him infinitely piteous. "Now, as things have fallen out, what am I in this country? A waif and stray! I belong to nobody, and nobody to me." " Then come away 1 " he burst out again. Her deep eyes were set on his face once more. " Yes, that 's the conclusion," she said very mourn- fully. "We Essex people are sensible, aren't we? 356 ■ r collect his Dnel Stafnitz orning he'll ht to reach h nodded at ically. " On on Saturday again, and " Exactly— the lock at Miklevni," said that officer, with another nod. "Yes, the lock at Miklevni on Saturday. You see, it's not as if the Colonel had a large force to move. That might take longer. He'll be able to move his company as quick as the barges travel. * "The stream's very strong, they travel pretty well," said Lukovitch. "But a hundred men— it's nothing to move. Captain Lukovitch." He looked round on them again, and then turned back to Sophy. "That's all my message, madame," he said. There was a silence. "So it's evident the guns will be in Slavna by Sunday," Lepage concluded. " If they reach Miklevni on Saturday— any time on Saturday— they will," said Lukcvitch. "And up here very soon after ! " "The General intimated that also, Captain Luko- vitch." "The General gives us very careful information," observed Dunstanbury, looking rather puzzled. He was not so well versed in Stenovics' me hods as the rest. Lukovitch smiled broadly, and even Zerko- vitch gave a little laugh. "How are things in Slavna, Monsieur Lepage?" the last-named asked. Lepage smiled a little too. " General Stenovics is m full control of the city-during Colonel Stafnitz's absence, sir," he answered. ; ■i 359 '■m:^m ■1: I Sophy of kravonia. t^ ! , " They 've quarrelled ? " cried Lukovitch. *'0h, no, sir. Possibly General Stenovics is afraid they might." He spoke again to Sophy. "Madame, do you still blame me for being the General's messenger?" "No, Monsieur Lepage; but there's much to consider in the message. Captain Lukovitch, if Monseigneur had read this message, what would he have thought the General meant?" Lukovitch's face was full of excitement as he answered her: "The Prince wouldn't have cared what General Stenovics meant. He would have said that the guns would be three days on the river before they came to Slavna, that the barges would take the best part of an hour to get through Miklevni lock, that there was good cover within a quarter of a mile of the lock " Sophy leant forward eagerly. "Yes, yes?" she whispered. "And that an escort of a hundred men was— well, might be— not enough I " " And that riding from Volseni ? " " One might easily be at Miklevni before Colonel Stafnitz and the guns could arrive there ! " Dunstanbury gave a start, Zerkovitch a chuckle, Lepage a quiet smile. Sophy rose to her feet ; the Star glowed, there was even colour in her cheeks besides. " If there are fifty, or thirty, or twenty," she said, 360 Mi»»w3«a|Wfct««(W;iitW*«»E»««fc V:^.. ,,-ij«ileHJ,iV»^, itch. Stenovics is in to Sophy, or being the i 's much to Lukovitch, if what would > »» ement as he vhat General aid that the r before they take the best 'ni lock, that of a mile of ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI her eyes set on Dunstanbury, "who would count their lives well risked, we may yet strike one blow tor Monseigneur and for the guns he loved." Dunstanbury looked round. "There are three here," he said. "Four!" called Basil Williamson from the door- way, where he had stood unobserved. "Five! " cried Sophy, and, for the first time since Monseigneur died, she laughed. " Five times five, and more, if we can get good horses enough ! " said Captain Lukovitch. " I should like to join you, but I must go back and tell General Stenovics that you will consider his message, madame," smiled Lepage. 3, yes?" she men was — ^. II sfore Colonel !" h. a chuckle, ler feet; the 1 her cheeks ;y," she said, 36X fill 111 V ■ i if W:] CHAPTER XXII. JEALOUS OF DEATH. IN the end they started thirty strong, including Sophy herself. There were the three English- men, Dunstanbury, Basil Williamson, and Henry Brown, Dunstanbury's servant, an old soldier, a good rider and shot. The rest were sturdy young men of Volseni, once destined for the ranks of the Prince of Slavna's artillery; Lukovitch and Peter Vassip led them. Not a married man was among them, for, to his intense indignation, Zerko- vitch was left behind in command of the city. Sophy would have this so, and nothing would move her; she would not risk causing Marie Zerkovitch to weep more and to harbour fresh fears of her. So they rode, "without encumbrances," as Dunstanbury said, laughing — his spirits rose inexpressibly as the moment of action came. Their horses were all that could be mustered in Volseni of a mettle equal to the dash. The little band paraded in the market-place on Friday after- noon; there they were joined by Sophy, who had been to pay a last visit to Monseigneur's grave; she came among them sad, yet seeming more serene. 362 [. ( -wvi w i-,mi3sm>S/^:^-'f,t '^rt-. A WOMAN AND A GHOST ! he enemy's mory, and Lieutenant /hole skin, middle agp lis services thin a year a billiard- le to poetic occupying open his [ed also a lard work lavna, and ) fear any in some- had been ions were re thrown :ament in which Stenovics found himself. Hard work, a good supper, and plentiful wine had their effect. Save the sentries, all were asleep at ten o'clock, and game to sleep till the reveille sounded at six. Their presence was a surprise to their assailants, who had, perhaps, approached in too rash a con- fidence that they were first on the ground ; but the greater surprise befell those who had now to defend the barges and the guns. When the man who had found the dead sentry ran back and told his tale, all of them, from Stafnitz downwards, conceived that the attack must come from Stenovics ; none thought of Sophy and her Volsenians. There they were, packed in the barn, separated from their horses! and with their carbines laid aside. The carbines were easily caught up; the horses not so easily reached, supposing an active skilful enemy at hand outside. For themselves, their position was good to stand a siege. But Stafnitz could not afford that. His mmd flew where Sophy's had. Throughout, and on both sides, the guns were the factor which dominated the tactics of the fight. It was no use for Stafnitz to stay snug in the barn while the enemy overpowered the bargees (supposing they tried to fight), disposed of the sentry stationed on each deck, and captured the guns. Let the assailant carry them off, and the Colonel's game was up! Whoever the foe was, the fight was for the guns- -and 375 •f I Im SOPHY OF KRAVONIA, for one other thing, no doubt— for the Colonel's life. ^^ "We felt in the deuce of a mess," Rastatz related, " for we didn't know how many they were, and wc couldn't see one of them. The Colonel walked out of the barn, cool as a cucumber, and looked and listened. He called to me to go with him, and so I did, keeping as much behind his back as possible. Nothing was to be seen, nothing to be heard. He pointed to the rising ground opposite. * That must hide them,' he said. Back he went and called the first half-company. 'You'll follow me in single file out of the barn and round to the back of it; let there be a foot between each of you— room enough to miss! When once you get in rear of the barn make for the barges. Never mind the horses. The second half-company will cover the horses with their fire. Rastatz, see my detach- ment round, and then follow. We'll leave the sergeant-major in command here. Now, quick, follovv^ me ! ' "Out he went, and the men began to follow in their order. I had to stand in the doorway and regulate the distance between man and man. I hadn't been there two seconds before a dozen heads came over the hill, and a dozen rifles cracked. Luckily the Colonel was just round the corner. Down went the heads again, but they 'd bagged two of our fellows. I shouted to more to come out, and at the same time ordered the serjeant-major to send 3/6 '"onfmttmmmmtmMmm^ii^u^mvi' A WOMAN AND A GHOST! :hc Colonel's a file forward to answer the fire. Up came the heads again, and they bagged three more. Our fellows blazed away in reply, but they'd dropped too quickly—I don't think we got one. *'Well, we didn't mind so much about keeping our exact distances after that— and I wouldn't swear that the whole fifty of us faced the fire ; it was devilish disconcerting, you know; but in a few niinutes thirty to five-and-thirty of us got round the side of the barn somehow, and for the moment out of harm's way. We heard the fire going on still in front, but only in a desultory way. They weren't trying to rush us— and I don't think we had any idea of rushing them ! For all we knew, they might be two hundred-or they might be a dozen! At any rate, with the advantage of position, they were enough to bottle our men up in the barn, for the moment at all events." This account makes what had happened pretty plain. Half of Sophy's force had been left to hold the enemy, or as many of them as possible, in the barn. ^ They had dismounted, and, well covered by the hill, could make good practice without much danger to themselves. Lukovitch was in command of this section of the little troop. Sophy, Dunstan- bury, and Peter Vassip, also on foot (the horses' hoofs would have betrayed them), were stealing round, mtent on getting between the barges and any men whom Stafniti, tried to place in position for their defence. After leaving men for the containing party, 377 1 1 :! ( ! >i SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. tt3E*!;Ji:d and ihrce to look after the horses, this detachment was no more than a dozen strong. But they had started before Stafnitz's men had got out of the barn, and, despite the smaller distance the latter had to traverse, could make a good race of it for the barges. They had all kept together too, while the enemy straggled round to the rear of the barn in single file. And they had one great, perhaps decisive, advantage, of whose existence Peter Vassip, their guide, vvas well aware. Forty yards beyond the farm a small ditch ran down to the Krath ; on the side near the farm it had a high overhanging bank, the other side being nearly level with the adjoining meadow. Thus it formed a natural trench and led straight down to where the first of the barges lay. It would have been open to an enfilade from the river, but Stafnitz had only one sentry on each barge, and these men we.e occupied in staring at their advancing companions and calling out to know what was the matter. As for the bargees, they had wisely declared neutrality, deeming the matter no business of theirs; shots were not within the terms of a contract for transport. Stafnitz, not dreaming of an attack, had not recon- noitred his ground. But Lukovitch knew every inch of it (Had not General Stenovics remembered that?), and so did Peter Vassip. The surprise of Praslok was to be avenged. Rastatz takes up the tale again ; his narrative has one or two touches vivid with a local colour. 378 A WOMAN AND A GHOST 1 detachment t they had out of the ; latter had ■ it for the , while the he barn in ps decisive, Lssip, their ditch ran arm it had iing nearly t formed a where the en open to i only one ; occupied nd calling s for the r, deeming were not transport, lot recon- ew every nembered urprise of ■ative has "When I got round to the rear of tl.e barn, T found our fellows scattered about on their bellies. The Colonel was in front on his belly, with his head just raised from the ground, looking about him. I lay down too, getting my head behind a stone which chanced to be near me. I looked about me too, when it seemed safe. And it did seem safe at first, for we could hear nothing, and deuce a man could we see ! But it wasn't very pleasant, because we knew that, sure enough, they must be pretty near us somewhere. Presently the Colonel came crawling back to me. ' What do you make of it, Rastatz ? ' he whispered. Before I could answer we heard a brisk exchange of fire in front of the barn. ' I don't like it,' I said. 'I can't see them, and I've a notion they can see me, Colonel, and that's not the pleasantest way to fight, is it ? ' 'Gad, you're right ! ' said he, ' but they won't see me any the better for a cigarette '-and then and there he lit one. "Well, he'd just thrown away his match when a young fellow-quite a lad he was-a couple of yards from us, suddenly jumped from his belly on to his knees and called out quite loud— it seemed to me he'd got a sort of panic-quite loud he called out: 'Sheepskins! Sheepskins!' I jumped myself, and I saw the Colonel start. But by Jove, It was true ! When you took a sniff, you could smell them ! Of course I don't mean what the better classes wear— you couldn't have smelt the i 379 a a ^^w jt tf fr- SOPHY OF KKAVOxXIA. R!. tunic our lamented Prince wore, nor the one the witch decked herself out in— but you could smeli a common fellow's sheepskin twenty yards off— aye, against the wind, unless the wind was miehtv strong. ^ ^ "•Sheepskins it is!' said the Colonel with a sniff. 'Volsenians, by gad! It's Mistress Sophia, Rastatz, or some of her friends anyhow.' Then he swore worthily : ' Stenovics must have put them up to this ! And where the devil are they, Rastatz? ' He raised his head as he spoke, and got his answer. A bullet came singing along and went right through his shako ; it came from the line of the ditch. He lay down again, laughed a little, and took a puff at his cigarette before he threw it away. Just then one of our sentries bellowed from the first barge: 'In the ditch! In the ditch!' *I wish you'd spoken a bit sooner,' says the Colonel, laughing again." While this was passing on Stafnitz's side, Sophy and her party were working quietly and cautiously down the course of the ditch. Under the shelter of its bank they had been able to hold a brief and hurried consultation. What they feared was that Stafnitz would make a dash for the barges. Their fire might drop half his men, but the survivors, when once on board — and the barges were drawn up to the edge of the stream — would still be as numerous as themselves, and would command the line of the ditch, which was at present their 380 A WOMAN AND A GHOST! great resource and protection. But if they could get on board before the enemy, they believed they could hold their own ; the decks were covered with impedimenta of one sort or another which would afford them cover, while any party which tried to board must expose itself to fire to a serious, and probably fatal, extent. So they worked down the ditch— except two of them. Little as they could spare even two, it was judged well to leave these ; their instructions were to fire at short intervals, whether there were much chance of hitting anybody or not. Dunstanbury hoped by this trick to make Stafnit;? believe that the whole detachment was stationary in the ditch thirty yards or more from the point where it joined the river. Only ten strong now— and one of them a woman— they made their way towards the mouth of the ditch and towards the barges which held the prize they sought. But a diversion, and a very effective one, was soon to come from the front of the barn. Fearing that the party under Sophy and Dunstanbury might be overpowered, Lukovitch determined on a bold step- that of enticing the holders of the barn from their shelter. He directed his men to keep up a brisk fire at the door; he himself and another man-one Ossip Yensko - disregarding the risk, made a rapid dash, across the line of fire from the barn for the spot where the horses were. The fire directed at the door successf liy covered their 38X U ii SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. i.i i 4.; daring movement ; they were among the horses in a moment, and hard at work cutting the bands with which they were tethered; the animals were half mad with fright, and the task was one of great danger. But the manoeuvre was eminently successful. A cry of "The horses! The horses!" went up from the barn. Men appeared in the doorway; the sergeant-major in command himself ran out. Half the horses were loose, and stampeded along the towing-path down the river. "The horses! The horses! " The defenders surged out of the barn, in deadly fear of being caught there in a trap. They preferred the chances of the fire, and streamed out in a disorderly throng. Lukovitch and Yensko cut loose as many more horses as they dared wait to release; then, as the defenders rushed forward, retreated, flying for their lives. Lukovitch came off with a ball in his arm ; Yensko dropped, shot through the heart. The men behind the hill riddled the defenders with their fire. But now they were by their horses— such as were left of them; nearer twenty than ten dotted the grass outside the barn door. And the survivors were demoralised; their leader, the sergeant-major, lay dead. They released the remaining horses, mounted, and with one parting volley fled down the river. With a cry of triumph, Lukovitch collected the remainder of his men and dashed round the side of the barn. The next moment Colonel ftafnitz found himself attacked 38a A WOMAN AND A GHOST! le horses in the bands limals were was one of :cessful. A nt up from )rway ; the out. Half along the •rses ! The he barn, in rap. They ■earned out Vensko cut ed wait to i forward, h came off lot through iddled the y were by n ; nearer J the barn Bed ; their iy released ne parting f triumph, men and The next attacked in his rear as well as held in check from the ditch in his front. "For a moment we thought it was our own men," said Rastatz, continuing his account, "and the Colonel shouted : ' Don't fire, you fools ! ' But then they cheered, and we knew the Volsenian accent— curse them ! * Sheepskins again 1 ' said the Colonel with a wry kind of smile. He didn't hesi- tate then ; he jumped up, crying, ♦ To the barges ! To the barges ! Follow me ! ' "We all followed: it was just as safe to go with him as to stay where you were ! We made a dash for it and got to the bank of the river. Then they rose out of the ditch in front of us— and they were a^ us behind too— with steel now; they daren't siioot, for fear of hitting their own people in our front. But the idea of a knife in your back isn't pleasant, and in the end more of our men turned to meet them than went on with the Colonel. I went on with him, though. I 'm always for the safest place, if there 's one safer than another. But here there wasn't, so I thouirht I might as well do the proper thing. We met them right by the water's edge, and the first I made out was the witch herself, in sheepskins like the rest of them, white as a sheet,' but with that infernal mark absolutely blazing. She was between Peter Vassip and a tall man I didn't know— I found out afterwards that he was the Englishman, Dunstanbury— and the three came straight at us. She cried : ' The King ! the King I ' 383 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ' a ill . ' lot IK and behind us we heard Lnkovitch and h crying : ' The King ! the King ! ' "Our fellows didn't like it, that's the truth. They were uneasy in their minds about that job of poor old Mistitch's, and they feared the witch like the devil. The heart was out of them ; one lad near me burst out crying. A witch and a ghost didn't seem pleasant things to fight I Oh, it was all nonsense, but yon know what fellows like that are ' The cry of * The King ! ' and the sight of the woman caused a moment's hesitation. It was enough to give them the drop on us. But the Colonel never hesitated ; he flung himself straight at her, and fired as he sprang. I just saw what happened before I got a crack on the crown of the head from the butt-end of a rifle, which knocked me out of time. As the Colonel fired, Peter Vassip flung himself in front of her, and took the bullet in his own body. Dunstanbury jumped right on the Colonel, cut him on the arm so that he dropped his revolver, and grappled with him. Dunstanbury dropped his sword, and the Colonel's wasn't drawn. It was just a tussle! They were tussling when the blood came flowing down into my eyes from the wound on my head'; I couldn't see anything more; I fainted. Just as I went off I heard somebody cry: 'Hands up!' and I imagined the lighting was pretty well over." The fighting was over. One scene remained which Rastatz did not see. When Coloriel Stafnitz 384 ,»a,«*ita«»««jMijlJKiWe«*w*,v A WOMAN AND A GHOST ! too heard the call " Hands up ! " when the firing stopped and all became quiet, he ceased to struggle. Dunstanbury found him suddenly changed to a log beneath him; his hands were already on the Colonel's throat, and he could have strangled him now without difficulty. But when Stafnitz no longer tried to defend himself, he loosed his hold, got up, and stood over him with his hand on the revolver in his belt. The Colonel fingered his throat a minute, sat up, looked round, and rose to his feet. He saw Sophy standing before him; by her side Peter Vassip lay on the ground, tended by Basil Williamson and one of his comrades. Colonel Stafnitz bowed to Sophy with a smile. "I forgot you, madame," said Stafnitz. "I didn't forget Monseigneur," she answered. He looked round him again, shrugged his shoulders, and seemed to think for a moment. There was an absolute stillness— a contrast to the preceding turmoil. But the silence made uncom- fortable men whom the fight had not shaken. Their eyes were set on Stafnitz. "The Prince died in fair fight," he said. "No; you sent Mistitch to murder him/' Sophy replied. Her eyes were relentless; and Stafnitz was ringed round with enemies. "I apologise for this embarrassment. I really ought to have been killed— it's just a mistake," he said, with a smile. He turned quickly to Dunstanbury: "You seem to be a gentleman, sir. 2e 385 I m '■ ^^■f-H K>, ^Hla Si '"" ^Hii| M\ "' j^HI'B k|,') , j; ^^BS m^ ' 1 ■h El- 1 Li^jiSisi SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Pray come with me: I need a witness." He pointed with his unwounded hand to the barn. Dunstanbury bowed assent. The Colonel bowed to Sophy, and the two of them walked off towards the barn. Sophy stood motionless, watching them until they turned the corner; then she fell on her knees and began to talk soothingly to Peter Vassip, who was hard hit, but, in Basil Williamson's opinion, promised to do well. Sophy was talking to the poor fellow when the sound of a revolver shot— a single shot— came from the barn. Colonel Stafnitz ha corrected the mistake. Sophy did not raise hr head. A moment later Dunstanbury came back and rejoined them. He exchanged a look with Sophy, inclining his head as a man does in answering "Yes." Then she rose. " Now for the barges and the guns," she said. They could not carry the guns back to Volseni ; nor, indeed, was there any use for them there now. But neither were Monseigneur's guns for the enemies of Monseigneur. Under Lukovitch's skilled direc- tions (his wound proved slight) the big guns were so disabled as to remain of little value, and the barges taken out into mid-stream and there scuttled with their cargoes. While one party pursued this work, Dunstanbury made the prisoners collect their wounded and dead, place them on a wagon, and set out on their march to Slavna. Then his men placed their dead on horses— they had lost three. Five were wounded besides Peter Vassin but r> none 386 atA*^-**.!-^**-:!^ fi^/C^Ai A WOMAN AND A GHOST! tness." He the barn, olonel bowed i off towards Itching them e fell on her Peter Vassip, on's opinion, g to the poor lot — a single Stafnitz ha ot raise h came back L look with in answering he said, to Volseni; I there now. the enemies killed direc- j guns were le, and the lere scuttled pursued this collect their jon, and set men placed hree. Five ut none of them severely—all could ride. For Peter they took a cart from the farm to convey him as far as the ascent to the hills; up that he would have to be carried by his comrades. It was noon before all their work was done. The barges were settling in the water. As they started to ride back to Volseni, the first sank; the second was soon to follow it. " We have done our work," said Lukovitch. And Sophy answered "Yes." But Stafnitz's men had not carried the body of their commander back. They left it in the barn, cursing him for the trap he had led them into. Later in the day, the panic-stricken lock-keeper stole out from the cellar where he had hidden himself, and found it in the barn. He and his wife lifted it with cursings, bore it to the river, and flung it in. It was carried over the weir, and floated down to Slavna. They fished it out with a boat-hook just opposite Suleiman's Tower. The hint to Captain Sterkoff was a broad one. He reported a vacancy m the command, and sent the keys of the fort to General Stenovics. It was Sunday morning. " The Colonel has got back just when he said he would! But where are th-^ guns?" asked General Stenovics of Captain Markart. The Captain had by now made up his mind which turn to take. But no power ensued to Stenovics. At the best his fate was a soft fall-a fall on to a cushioned shelf. The cup of Kravonia's iniquity, full with the 387 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Prince's murder, brimmed over with the punishment of the man who had caused it. The fight by the lock of Miklevni sealed Kravonia's fate. Civilisation must be vindicated ! Long columns of flat-capped soldiers begin to wind, like a great snake, over the summit of St. Peter's Pass. Sophy watched them through a telescope from the old wall of Volseni. "Our work is done. Monseigneur has mightier avengers," she said. V:l 388 CHAPTER XXIV, TRUE TO HER LOVE. VOLSENI for°;ave Sophy its dead and wounded sons. Her popularity blazed up in a last, fierce, flickering fire. The guns were taken; they would not go to Slavna; they would never batter the walls of Volseni into frag- ments. Slavna might be defied again. That was the great thing to Volseni, and it made Httle account of the snakelike line which crawled over St. Peter's Pass, and down to Dobrava, and on to Slavna. Let Slavna — hated Slavna — reckon with that ! And if the snake — or another like it — came to Volseni? Well, that was better than knuckling down to Slavna. To-night King Sergius was avenged and Queen Sophia had returned in victory ! For the first time since the King's death the bell of the ancient church rang joyously, and men sang and feasted in the grey city of the hills. Thirty from Volseni had beaten a hundred fr^m Slavna; the guns were at the bottom of the Krath ; it was enough. If Sophy had bidden them, they would have streamed dovvn on Slavna that night in one of 389 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. ■3^ ( i \lk 1 Hi. \i. those fierce raids in which their forefathers of the Middle Ages had loved to swoop upon the plain. But Sophy had no delusions. She saw her Crown— that fleeting phantom ornament, fitly fore- seen in the visions of a charlatan— pasf'ng from her brow without a sigh. She had not needed Dunstanbury's arguments to prove that there was no place for her left in Kravonia. She was content to have it so; she had done enough. Sorrow had not passed from her face, but serenity had come upon, it in fuller measure. She had struck for Monseigneur, and the blow was witness to her love. It vvas enough in her, and enough in little Volseni. Let the mightier avengers do the rest. She hL.d allowed Dunstanbury to leave her after supper in order to make preparations for a start to the fronti - at dawn. " You must certainly go," she had said, "and perhaps I '11 come with you." She went at night up on to the wall— always her favourite place; she loved the spaciousness of air and open country before her there. Basil Williamson found her deep in thought when he came to tell her of the progress of the wounded. " They 're all doing well, and Peter Vassip will live. Dunstanbury has made him promise to rome to him when he's recovered, so you'll meet him again at all events. And Marie Zerkovitch and her husband talk of settling in Paris. You won't lose all your Kravonian friends," 390 '*■<«*'•■>*' t5w&i««aMMm*a«Hw«s* V ■ TRUE TO HER LOVE. "You assume that I 'm coming with you to-morrow morning ? " "I'm quite safe in assuming that Dunstanbury won't go unless you do," he answered, smihng. " We can't leave you alone here, you know." "I shouldn't stay here, anyhow," she said. "Or, at any rate, I should be where nobody could hurt me." She pointed at a dim lantern, fastened to the gate-tower by an iron clamp, then waved her hand towards the surrounding darkness. "That's life, isn't it?" she asked. "If I believed that I could go to Monseigneur, I would go to-night- nay, I would have gone at Miklevni ; it was only putting my head out of that ditch a minute sooner I If I believed even that I could lie in the church there and know that he was near! If I believed even that I could lie there quietly and remember and think of him! You're a man of science-— you 're not a peasant's child, as I am. What do you think ? You mustn't wonder that I 've hau my thoughts too. At Lady Meg's we did little else than try to find out whether we were going on anywhere else. That's all she cared about. And if she does ever get to a next world, she won't care about that; she'll only go on trying to find out whether there's still another beyond. What do you think?" " I hardly expected to find you so philosophically inclined," he said. " It 's a practical question with me now. On its 391 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. 1^' ri^f m ' !'.»« !,!■ ' answer depends whether I come with you or stay here— by Monseigneur m the church." Basil said something professional — something about nerves and temporary strain. But he per- formed this homage to medical etiquette in a rather perfunctory fashion. He had never seen a woman more composed or more obviously and perfectly healthy. Sophy smiled and went on : "But if I live, I 'm sure at least of being able to thmk and able to remember. It comes to a gamble doesn't it? It's just possible I might get morej It s quite likely-I think it 's probable-I should lose even what I have now." "I think you 're probably right about the chances of the gamble," he told her, "though no doubt certainty is out of place-or at least one doesn't talk about it. Shall I tell you what science says ? " "No," said Sophy, smiling faintly. "Science think- in multitudes— and I'm thinking of the individual to-night. Even Lady Meg never made much of science, you know." " Do you remember the day when I heard you your Catechism in the avenue at Morpingham ? " "Yes, I remember. Does the Catechism hold good in Kravonia, though ? " "It continues, anyhow, a valuable document in its bearing on this life. You remember the mistake you made, I dare say?" "I've never forgotten it. It's had something to do with it all," said Sophy. "That's how you. 392 TRUE TO HER LOVE. as well as Lord Dunstanbury, come in at the beginning as you do at the end." " Has it nothing to do with the question now — putting it in any particular phraseology you like ? " In his turn he pointed at the smoky lantern. "That's not life," he said, growing more earnest, yet smiling. "That's now— just here and now— and, yes, it's very smoky." He waved his hand over the darkness. "That's life! Dark? Yes, but the night will lift, the darkness pass away; valley and sparkling lake will be there, and the summit of the heaven-kissing hills. Life cries to you with a sweet voice!" "Yes," she murmured, "with a sweet voice. And perhaps some day there would be light on the hills. But, ah, I 'm torn in sunder this night ! I wish I had died there at Miklevni while my blood was hot." She paused a long while in thought. Then she went on : " If I go, I must go while it 's still dark, and while these good people sleep. Go and tell Lord Dunstanbury to be ready to start an hour before dawn; and do you and he come then to the door of the church. If I 'm not waiting for you there, come inside and find me." He started towards her with an eager gesture of protest. She raised her hand and checked him. "No, I've decided nothing. I can't tell yet," she said. She turned and left him ; he heard her steps descending the old winding stair which led from the top of the wall down into the street. He 393 -sfc*: ■ .mmmsTm SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. m> ■ ■ f fe-!Jli-'!."'- '-i- ! ■ ^ did not know whether he would see her alive again —and with her message of such ambiguous meaning he went to Dunstanbury. Yet curiously, though he had pleaded so urgently with her, though to him her death would mean the loss of one of the beautiful things from out the earth, he was in no distress for her and did not dream of attempting any constraint. She knew her strength— she would choose right. If life were tolerable, she would take up the burden. If not, she would let it lie unlifted at her quiet feet. His mood could not be Dunstanbury's, who had come to count her presence as the light of the life that was his. Yet Dunstanbury heard the message quietly, and quietly made every preparation in obedience to her bidding. That done, he sat in the little room of the inn and smoked his pipe with Basil. Henry Brown waited his word to take the horses to the door of the church. Basil Williamson had divined his friend's feeling for Sophy, and wondered at his calmness. " If I felt the doubt that you do, I shouldn't be calm," said Dunstanbury. " But I know her. She will be true to her love." He could not be speaking of that love of hers which was finished, whose end she was now mourning in the little church. It must be of another love that he spoke— of one bred in her nature, the outcome of her temperament and of her being the woman that she was. The spirit which had brought her to Slayna, had made her play her part there, had 394 ^■>ti!iMtmmmm^.mmm^'- TRUE TO HER LOVE. welcomed and caught at every change and chance of fortune, had never laid down the sword till the blow was struck — that spirit would preserve her and give her back to life now, and some day give life back to her. He was right. When they came to the door of the church, she was there. For the first time since Monseigneur had died her eyes were red with wetping ; but her face was calm. She gave her hand to Dunstanbury. "Come, let us mount," she said. "I have said 'Good-bye.'" Lukovitch knew Dunstanbury's plans. He was waiting for them at the gate, his arm in a sling, and with him were the Zerkovitches. These last they would see again ; it was probably farewell for ever to gallant Lukovitch. He kissed the silver ring on Sophy's finger. "I brought nothing into Kravonia," she said, "and I carry nothing out, except this ring which Monseigneur put on my finger — the ring of the Bailiffs of Volseni." " Keep it," said Lukovitch. " I think there will be no more Bailiffs of Volseni — or some Prince, not of our choosing, will take the title by his own will. He will not be our Bailiff, as Monseigneur was. You will be our Bailiff, though our eyes never see you, and you never see our old grey walls again. Madame, have a kindly place in your heart for Volseni. We shan't forget you nor the blow we 395 m'\ i 1 ■■ 1 SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. Struck under your leadership. The iight at Miklevni may well be the last that we shall fight as free men." "Volseni is written on my heart," she answered. '* I shall not forget." She bade her friends farewell and then ordered Lukovitch to throw open the gate. She and the three Englishmen r >de through, Henry Brown leading the pack-horse by the bridle. The mountains were growing grey with the first approaches of dawn. As she rode through, Sophy paused a moment, leant sideways in the saddle, and kissed the ancient lintel of the door. "Peace be on this place," she said, "and peace to the tomb where Monseigneur lies buried ! " " Peace be on thy head and fortune with thee ! " answered Lukovitch in the traditional words of He kissed her hand again, and they farewell, departed. It was ascent to high morning when they rode up the St. Peter's Pass and came to the spot where their cross-track joined the main road over the pass from Dobrava and the capital. In silence they mounted to the summit. The road under their horses' feet was trampled with the march of the thousands of men who had passed over it in an irresistible advance on Slavna. At the summit of the pass they stopped, and Sophy turned to look back. She sat there for a long while in silence. " I have loved this land," at last she said. 396 It TRUE TO HER LOVF. has given me much, and very much it has taken away. Now the face of it is to be changed. But in my heart the memory of it will not change." She looked across the valley, across the sparkling face of I.;iKj falti, to the grey walls of Volseni, and kissed 'let hane. " Farewell, Monseigneur! " she whispered '^e»7 low. The Uay of Kravonia was done. The head of the great snake had reached Slavna. Countess Ellen- burg and young Alexis were in flight. Stenovics took orders where he had looked to rule. The death of Monseigneur was indeed avenged. But there was no place for Sophy, the Queen of a tempestuous hour. They set their horses' heads towards the frontier. They began the descent on the other side. The lake was gone, the familiar hills vanished ; only in the eye of memory stood old Volseni still set in its grey mountains. Sophy rode forth from Kravonia in her sheepskins and her silver ring— the last Queen of Kravonia, the last Bailiff of Volseni, the last chosen leader of the mountain men. But the memory of the Red Star lived afte. her— how she loved Monseigneur and avenged him, how her face was fairer than the face of other women, and more pale— and how the Red Star glowed in sorrow and m joy, in love and in clash of arms, promising to some glory and to others death. In the street of Volseni and in the cabins among the hills you may hear the tale of the Red Star yet. 397 VI I' I) SOPHY OF KRAVONIA. As she passed the border of the land which was so great m her life, by a freak of memory Sophy recalled a picture till now forgotten-a woman, un- known, untraced, unreckoned, who had passed down the Street of the Fountain, weeping bitterly-an obscure symbol of great woes, of the tribute life pays to Its unresting enemies. Yet to the unconquerable heart life stands un- conquered. What danger had not shaken not even sorrow could overthrow. She rode into the future with Dunstanbury on her right hand-patience in his mind, and in his heart hope. Some day the sun would shine on the summit of heaven-kissing hills U.\ THE END. FBrNfaitn etm T»B rOBiTSHSS. wmam Kfif: :r,(.«'H >"■'«#■-:."" which was ory Sophy ^oman, un- Lssed down itterly— an ribute life itands un- i not even the future atience in ly the sun sing hills. I