A Son of the Immortals

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER III

  IN THE ORIENT EXPRESS

  After some haggling, Alec wrung four thousand five hundred francs out ofDumont. Then, at five minutes past six, he jumped into a cab and wasdriven to the Place de la Sorbonne.

  Of course he had ascertained Joan's address easily. He made no secret ofthe fact that he had seen her on her way to the Louvre nearly every dayof the twenty that had elapsed since their first meeting. His knowledgeof the route she followed advanced quickly until he found out where shelived. He would not have dared to call on her now, if it had not beenfor the tremendous thing that had happened in his life; for he was surehe would become King of Kosnovia. The art that conceals art is good; butthe art that is unconscious of artifice is better, and never hadsoothsayer arranged more effective preliminaries for astoundingprediction than sibyl Joan herself.

  Paris, too, might well witness the rising of his star. What other citystages such memorials to inspire ambition? Behind him, as his cab speddown the Champs Elysees, rose the splendid pile of the Arch of Triumph;in front, beyond the Place de la Concorde, the setting sun gilded asmoke blackened fragment that marked the site of the Tuileries; whilenear at hand the statue of France, grief stricken yet defiant, gazedever and longingly in the direction of her lost Provinces. Here, withina short mile, stood the silent records of three Empires, founded, astime counts, within a few years. Two were already crumbled to the dust.The survivor, consolidated on the ruins of France, flourished beyond theRhine.

  Perhaps, if read aright, these portents were not wholly favorable to oneabout to try his luck in that imperial game. But Alec, though a gooddeal of a democrat at heart, was cheered by the knowledge that so longas the world recognizes the divine right of Kings, no monarch by descentcould lay better claim to a throne than he. And he was young, and inlove, and ready to believe that youth and love can level mountains, makefirm the morass, bridge the ocean.

  He wondered how Joan would take his great news. He thought he couldguess her attitude. At first she would urge him to forget that such aperson as Joan Vernon existed. Then he would plead that she was askingthat which was not only impossible but utterly unheroic. And the minuteswere flying. He would remind her that time does not wait even for Kings,nor would the Orient Express delay its departure by a single second tooblige such a fledgling potentate as he.

  "We must part now, my sweet," he would say. "I am going to demand mybirthright. When I am admittedly a King, I shall send for you. If you donot answer, I shall become my own envoy. You will make a beautifulQueen, Joan. You and I together will raise Kosnovia from the mire ofcenturies."

  Somewhat stilted lovemaking this; but what was a poor fellow to do whohad been taken from the Rue Boissiere and plunged into empire making,all in the course of a summer's evening?

  He crossed the Pont Neuf without ever a look at Henri Quatre. That was apity. The sarcastic Bearnais grin might have revealed some of thepitfalls that lay ahead. At any rate, the King of Navarre could havegiven him many instances of a woman's fickleness--and fickleness was theugly word that leaped into Alec's puzzled brain when an ancient dame atJoan's lodgings told him that Mademoiselle and her maid had gone awaythat afternoon.

  "Gone! Gone where?" he asked blankly.

  "It is necessary to write," said Madame, and shut the door in his face,since it is forbidden in the Quartier for good looking and unknown youngmen to make such urgent inquiries concerning the whereabouts of discreetyoung women like Mademoiselle Joan.

  Leontine, still scrubbing, came to the rescue. Never had she seen anyone so distinguished as this Monsieur. _Mon Dieu!_ but it was a pitythat the belle Americaine should have packed her boxes that very day!And diminutive Leontine was romantic to the tips of her stubby fingers.

  "M'sieu'? wishes to know where he will find the young lady who livesthere?" said she archly, jerking her head and a broom handle toward theneighboring house.

  "But yes, my pretty one," cried Alec.

  "Well, Pauline said--Pauline is her domestic, see you--said they weregoing to the forest to paint."

  "To Fontainebleau?"

  "Perhaps, m'sieu'--to the forest, that was it."

  "No name? Barbizon?"

  "It might be. I have no head for those big words, m'sieu'."

  Alec gave her a five-franc piece. It was the first coin he found in hispocket, and the sight of it caused a frown. Confound those Montmartreplaywrights! Why was their stupid travesty constantly recurring to hismind? He frowned again, this time at Auguste Comte's smugness, andlooked at his watch. Twenty-five minutes to seven! It was too late nowto do other than write--if he succeeded. If not--ah, well! "Some of themare slain in the flower of their youth." At least, she would remember,and those glorious eyes of hers would glisten with tears, and the beliefhelped to console him. Still, he was saddened, disappointed, almostdulled. Doubt came darkly with the dispelling of the dream that he mightcommence his Odyssey with Joan's first and farewell kiss on his lips.Love and ambition seemed to be at variance; but love had flown, whereasambition remained.

  Back, then, to the Rue Boissiere, to an uproar of visitors, sightseers,journalists. Prince Michael had become Monseigneur again. He was holdinga reception. Alec, pressing through the throng, was waylaid by aservant.

  "This way, monsieur," whispered the man, drawing him into a passage andthence to the room of Princess Delgrado. Alec was soothing his mother'sgrief when his father entered secretly on tiptoe with the hushed voiceand stealthy air of a conspirator. He carried a parcel, long and narrow,wrapped in brown paper.

  "I have been consumed with anxiety," said he. "Julius came and warned methat your departure from Paris ought to be incognito. This is wise; so Iremain King-elect till you reach Delgratz. The newspapers are pesteringme to declare a program. They all expect that I shall leave Paristo-night or early to-morrow. Indeed, an impudent fellow representing'_Le Soir_' says that if I don't bestir myself I shall be christened theSluggard King. But I shall humbug them finely. Leave that to me. Yourportmanteaus have been smuggled out by way of the servants' quarters,and you must vanish unseen. Buy a ticket for Vienna, ignore Stampoffduring the journey, accept my blessing, and take this." He held out theparcel.

  "What is it?" inquired Alec.

  "My father's sword, your grandfather's sword. I have kept it bright foryou."

  Alec squirmed. He knew the weapon, a curved simitar inlaid with gold,and reposing in a scabbard of gilt metal and purple velvet. In itswrapping of brown paper and twine it suspiciously resembled a child'stoy, and Prince Michael's grandiloquent manner added a touch ofbuffoonery to a farewell scene made poignant by a woman's tears.

  "I shall use it only on the skulls of eminent personages," said Alecgravely. In truth, this Parisian kingship was rapidly becoming farcical.What a line, what a situation, for that review!

  But there was worse to come. Checked in his outburst of family pride,Monseigneur became practical. "What of Dumont?" said he.

  "He was touched; but he knocked off five hundred francs."

  "Ah, bah! I rather hoped--well, I must return to the salon and play mypart. Remember, you will see no one except a servant at the Gare del'Est. Julius has arranged passports, everything."

  "He is taking an extraordinary interest in me. Of course, if I pullthrough, he becomes heir presumptive."

  "Parbleu! That is so. But--you will marry. Bide your time, though.Choose a Queen who--" his shifty eyes fell on the trembling form of hiswife, who had remained strangely silent during this somewhat strainedinterview,--"who will be as good a wife to you as your mother has beento me. Farewell! may God guard you!"

  Twice in one day had the pompous little man been betrayed into an avowalof honest sentiment. But he soon recovered. Once reestablished on thehearthrug, with his eyeglass properly adjusted, his hands tucked underhis coattails when they were not emphasizing some well turned phrase,Prince Michael enjoyed himself hugely.

  And then Alec clasped his mother in his arms. She was almost incoherentwith terror. Bid him remain she dare
not; she lacked the force ofcharacter that such a step demanded. She had given too many years tothis chimera of royalty now suddenly grown into a monster to be satedonly by the sacrifice of her son! But she mourned as if he was alreadydead, and a lump rose in Alec's throat. He had always loved his mother;his father had ever been remote, a dignified trifler, a poser. The threeheld nothing in common. It could hardly be doubted that every goodquality of mind and body the boy possessed was a debt to thebrokenhearted woman now clinging to him in a very frenzy of lamentation.Small wonder if his eyes were misty and his voice choked. Ah! if Joanbut knew of this sorrowing mother's plight, surely she would come toher!

  At last he tore himself away. Grasping that ridiculous parcel, hehurriedly descended a back staircase. Owing to the paternal watchfulnessthat the French Government exercises over its subjects, he was obligedto pass the concierge; but none paid heed to him. If it came to that,all Paris would guffaw at the notion of dear Alec becoming a filibuster.

  He hailed a passing cab. If he would catch his train, they must drivefuriously, which is nothing new in Paris. Climbing the Rue La Fayette,he passed Count Julius Marulitch and Constantine Beliani coming theother way in an open victoria. They were so deeply engaged inconversation that they did not see him. Julius was talking and the Greeklistening. It flashed into Alec's mind that the presence in Paris of theGreek on the very day of the Delgratz regicide offered a most remarkablecoincidence. Beliani was no stranger to him, since he and GeneralStampoff, the one as Finance Minister and the other as Commander inChief, were exiled from Kosnovia after an abortive revolution ten yearsago.

  But Beliani usually lived in Vienna, indeed, he was sometimes regardedas an active agent in Austria's steady advance on Salonica,--whereasdear old Paul Stampoff hated Austria, was a frequent visitor to theDelgrado receptions, and it was largely to his constant urging andtuition that Alec owed his familiarity with the Slav language. TheGreek, it was evident, heard of the murders at the earliest possiblemoment; Julius too was singularly well informed, though his interest inKosnovian affairs had long seemed dormant; even the fiery Stampoff wasno laggard once the news was bruited. Alec went so far as to fix theexact time at which Julius appeared in the Rue Boissiere. He knewsomething of the ways of newspapers, and was well aware that no privateperson could hope to obtain such important intelligence before thepress. He himself had unwittingly heard the first public announcement ofthe tragedy, and the three men had certainly lost no time in hurrying togreet their new sovereign.

  What a madly inconsequent jumble it all was! Little more than two hoursago he was driving through the Bois with no other notion in his brainthan to seek a means of earning a livelihood; yet here he was at theGare de l'Est carrying a sword as a symbol of kingship. A sword, wrappedin brown paper, tied with string! Suppose, by some lucky chance, Joanmet him now, would she sympathize, or laugh?

  He found his father's valet waiting with his luggage near the ticketoffice. The man gave him an envelop. It contained a passport, vised bythe Turkish Embassy, and a few scribbled words:

  Note the name. It is the nearest to your initials B. could procure. I shall come to you on the train. Destroy this. S.

  The name was that on the passport, "Alexandre George Delyanni;nationality, Greek; business, carpet merchant; destination,Constantinople."

  Alec smiled. The humor of it was steeling him against the canker ofJoan's untimely disappearance. "I don't look much like a Greek," he saidto himself; "but the 'Alexandre' sounds well as an omen. I'm not sosorry now. This business would tickle Joan to death."

  So, on the whole, it was a resigned if not light-hearted adventurer whodisposed himself and his belongings in the Orient Express, afterexperiencing the singular good luck of securing a section in thesleeping car returned by a Viennese banker at the last moment. He wentabout the business of buying his ticket and passing the barrier with acareless ease that would have excited the envy of a Russian Terrorist.Sharp eyes attend the departure of every international train from Paris;but never a spy gave more than casual scrutiny to this broad shoulderedyouth strolling down the platform, the latest passenger to arrive, andthe least flurried.

  He neither saw nor looked for Stampoff. Having a minute to spare, heobtained a newspaper, took a seat voucher for the first dinner, lighteda cigarette, entered his reserved compartment, arranged his luggage, andburnt General Stampoff's scrawl just as the train moved out of thestation.

  Then he read an account of the Delgratz crime,--for it was only a crime,a brutal and callous murder, not worthy to be dignified by the mantle ofpolitical hate. The unhappy King and Queen of Kosnovia were dining incompany with the Queen's brother and the Minister of Ways andCommunications when the regiment on duty in the palace burst in on them.King Theodore was shot down while endeavoring to protect the Queen. Shetoo fell riddled with bullets, and both corpses were flung into acourtyard. The unhappy guests were wounded, and still remained prisonersin the hands of the regicides, who vaunted that they had "saved" thecountry, and meant to restore the ancient sovereignty.

  Beliani's summary of subsequent events was accurate; but it struck Alecat once that he had said nothing of the minister nor of SergiusVottisch, Queen Helena's brother, who was mainly instrumental indefeating Beliani's half-forgotten revolt. Did he know of theirpresence? How peculiar that he should utter no word of triumphconcerning Vottisch!

  Alec threw aside the paper. He was sick at heart. He loathed the thoughtthat the first step toward his throne lay across the body of a woman.

  "Nice guards, the noble Seventh Regiment!" he muttered. "Now, when I amKing----"

  Then he realized that during the few minutes that had elapsed since thetrain started, the whole aspect of the adventure had changed completely.It was no longer a snatch of opera bouffe, a fantastic conceitengendered in the brain of that elderly beau whom he had left in the RueBoissiere, a bit of stage trifling happily typified by the propertysword. It had become real, grim, menacing. It reeked of blood. Its firstbattle was there, recorded in the newspaper. He pictured those brutalsoldiers mauling the warm bodies, thrusting them through an open windowand proclaiming their loyalty--to him!

  The train was rushing through an estate noted for its game, and he hadbeen one of a party of guns in its coverts last October. He rememberedshooting a pheasant of glorious plumage, and saying: "Ah! What a pity! Iought to have spared him, if only on account of his coat of manycolors."

  "When birds are flying fast, even you, Alec, have to shoot _passim_,"said a witty Hebrew, and Delgrado did not appreciate the _mot_ untilsome one told him that _passeem_ in Hebrew meant "patchwork," and thatJacob's offense to Joseph's brethren lay in the gift of a Prince's robeto his favorite son.

  The quip came to mind now with sinister significance; he wished mostheartily he had missed that pheasant. It was quite a relief when dinnerwas announced, and he made his way to the dining car, where a polyglotgathering showed that although the Orient Express had not quitted Parisfifteen minutes it had already crossed many frontiers. There were fewFrench or English on board, and not one American. A couple of Turks, aBulgarian, a sprinkling of Russians and Levantines, and a crowd ofTeutons, either German or Austrian, made up the company. Stampoffremained invisible, and Alec shared a table with an Armenian, whoinsisted on speaking execrable English, though he understood French farbetter.

  Then this newest of all Kings felt very lonely, and he began tounderstand something of the isolation that would surround him in thatBlack Castle of his daydream, where, if all went well with him, healone would be the "foreigner." A longing for companionship came uponhim. He wanted some one who would laugh and talk airy nonsense, some onewhose mind would not be running everlastingly in the political groove,and an irresistible impulse urged him to ask for a telegraph form andwrite:

  BEAUMANOIR, Villa Turquoise, Chantilly. Come and join in the revel. ALEC.

  He gave the message to an attendant, bidding him despatch it fromChalons. He reasoned that Beaumanoir would be puzzled, would call a
t theRue Boissiere, see his father, and solve the mystery. In all likelihood,Lord Adalbert, who cheerfully answered to the obvious nickname--wouldaccept the invitation, and by the time he reached Delgratz thesuccession to the throne of Kosnovia would be in a fair way towardsettlement. Moreover, by depriving the Chantilly team of their crackNumber One, Alec would equalize matters for the Wanderers, and the loveof sport is ever the ruling passion in healthy and vigorous youth.

  "By gad!" he said to himself, "I'm showing craft already. That is aMachiavellian wire!"

  It was, as it happened, a stroke worthy of the wily Florentine himself;but neither he nor his latest pupil could possibly have estimated itstrue bearing on events.

  After dinner Stampoff found him. Delgrado was astounded at first.Stampoff, shorn of his immense mustache, ceased to be a General. Infact, the wizened, keen faced old man bore a striking resemblance to acertain famous actor of the Comedie Francaise; but he was not seated inAlec's compartment ten seconds with the door closed ere he showed thatthe loss of his warrior aspect had in no way tamed his heart.

  "Yes," he said, passing a lean hand over his blue-black upper lip, "itwas necessary to disguise myself. Ten years are not so long, and I amknown on the Danube. You see, we must get through to Delgratz and theSchwarzburg. Once there, with three thousand bayonets behind us, we cando things. Leave the fighting to me, your----"

  He stopped, and glanced at a fat Turk lumbering along the corridor.

  "Exactly, my dear old friend," said Alec. "Drop titles, please, until wehave a right to use them. Even then they can be left to gentlemen ushersand court chamberlains. Alec and Paul sound better, anyhow. But you wereoutlining a scheme. I go with you as far as Delgratz; but those bayonetsin the Schwarzburg will not be behind me, I hope. Some of them may comewithin measurable distance of my manly chest; but even that isimprobable, for I have always noticed that vulgar assassins arecowards."

  Stampoff's bushy eyebrows had been spared, and they formed a hairy seamnow straight across eyes and nose. "You forget, perhaps you do notknow, that these men alone have actually declared for you--for aDelgrado," he growled.

  "And a pretty gang of cutthroats they must be! I read the details afterleaving Paris. That poor woman, Paul! She was pretty and vivacious, Ihave been told. Just picture the scene in the dining hall. One woman,three unarmed men, the King leaping up and endeavoring to shieldher--and the gallant Seventh firing volleys at them. Then, when the lastsob is uttered, the last groan stilled, husband and wife are pitched tothe dogs. Oh, it makes my blood boil! By the Lord! when I am King Ishall hang the whole crew!"

  He spoke very quietly. Any one looking through the window in the upperhalf of the door would have seen a young man seemingly telling an olderone something of ordinary import. But the words were crisp and hot. Theycame like drops of molten steel from the furnace of his heart.

  Stampoff's thin face grew swarthier. He bent forward, his hands on hisknees. "Will you tell me why you are going to Delgratz?" he asked with acurious huskiness in his voice.

  "To occupy a throne--or a tomb. In either event, I am only copying theexample of the vast majority of my revered ancestors."

  "The throne is yours by right. Theodore has fallen almost precisely asyour grandfather fell. Ferdinand was shot, and escaped with his lifeonly because there was a struggle and a few faithful followers carriedhim into safety."

  "If I depended on the fealty of the Seventh Regiment, I should notexpect to find even the faithful few. Poor Theodore may have looked forthem; but they did not exist."

  "Then we had better leave the train at Chalons and return to Paris."

  "Certainly, if the butchers of the Schwarzburg are to form my cohort."

  "God's bones! never have I been so mistaken in a man! Your father,now,--one feared he might have lost his nerve,--but you, Alec! The deviltake it! I thought better of you. I suppose then, it will have to beMarulitch."

  "Julius! Is he a candidate--or a rival?"

  Stampoff paused, irresolute. He was deeply troubled, and his fierce eyessearched Delgrado's face. "I had real hope of you," he muttered. "Youwould appeal to the women, and they are ever half the battle. Why areyou so squeamish? You needn't embrace the men of the Seventh. You canuse them, and kick them aside. That is the fate of ladders that lead tothrones. I know it. I am old enough not to care."

  "I am not thinking of ladders as yet, Paul. Sufficient for the day isthe foundation thereof, and I refuse to build my Kingdom on the brokenvows of traitors."

  "Ha! Stupid words! The ravings of cheap philosophers! By your ownshowing, I am a traitor."

  "Yes, but an honest one. You fought fairly and were beaten. Were itotherwise, Theodore would never have tried so often to tempt you to hisservice."

  The General flung himself back in the carriage and folded his arms. Thesteel spring was relaxed. He was baffled, and the weariness of life hadsuddenly enveloped him in its chilling fog. "Very well, then. We descendat Chalons," he said, with a sigh that was a tribute to adverse fate.

  "Having paid for your ticket, you may as well come on to Vienna," saidAlec with irritating composure.

  "Curse Vienna! Why should I take that long journey for nothing?"

  "To oblige me."

  "You'll drive me crazy. How will it oblige you?"

  "Because I am going to Delgratz, General, and there is a whole lot ofthings I want to ask you."

  Stampoff bounced up again. "Will you be so kind as to explain what youmean?" he cried indignantly.

  "Oh, yes. We are going to talk far into the night, and it is only fairthat you should know my intentions. Otherwise, the valuable counsel youwill give me might be misdirected, as it is, for instance, at thepresent moment, when you are heatedly advising me to throw in my lotwith a set of rascals who, when I fail to satisfy their demands, wouldturn and rend me just as they have rended Theodore. Be sure that theirobject was selfish, Stampoff. Not one of these men has ever seen PrinceMichael or myself. Even their leaders must have been mere boys whenFerdinand VII. was attacked--probably by their fathers. Well, I shallhave none of them. They and their like are the curse of Kosnovia. Whowill pay taxes to keep me in the state that becomes a King? Not they.Who will benefit by good government and honest administration of thelaws? Assuredly not they, for they batten on corruption; they are themaggots not the bees of industry. Over whom, then, shall I reign?

  "I am young, Paul; but I have read and thought,--not very deeply,perhaps, but I have looked at things in that strong, clear light ofParis, which is heady at times, like its good wine, but which enablesmen to view art and politics and social needs in their nakedness. And Iam half an American, too, which accounts for certain elements in mycomposition that detract from French ideals. A Frenchman cannotunderstand, Paul, why some of my excellent kith and kin across theAtlantic should condemn studies of the nude. But somehow I have aglimmering sense of the moral purpose that teaches us to avoid thatwhich is not wholly decent. So I am a blend of French realism andAmerican level headedness, and both sides of my nature warn me that aKing should trust his people. Sometimes the people are slow to learnthat vital fact. Well, they must be taught, and the first lesson in aState like Kosnovia might well be given by trying those felons of theSchwarzburg before a duly constituted court of law."

  "Fine talk, Alec. Fine talk! You do not know our Serbs," yet Stampoffwas moved, and his Slavonic sympathies were touched.

  "Well, 'A King should die standing,' said one poor monarch, who thoughthe did know Frenchmen. I ask only for a few hours in my boots once Ireach Delgratz. I shall say things that will not be forgotten for a dayor two. Come, now, my old war-horse, join me in this new campaign! Itmay well prove your last as it is my first; but we shall fall honorably,you and I."

  There were tears in Stampoff's eyes when Alec made an end. "Perhaps youare right," he said. "I have always given my mind to the militaryelement. It seemed to me that the common folk require to be driven, notled, into the path they should tread. I am growing old, Alec; yours is anew creed to me. I
never thought to hear it from a Delgrado, and it willmake a rare stir in more places than Kosnovia; but by Heaven it is wortha trial!"

  So Alec had won a convert, and that is the first essential of areformer. Long and earnestly did they discuss the men and manners ofKosnovia and its chief city, and ever the Danube drew nearer; but not aword did Alec say of his telegram to Beaumanoir until a man met him inthe Western Station at Vienna, wrung his hand, and rushed away againwith the words:

  "Beaumanoir leaves Paris to-night. He understands. So do I. Good luck,old chap! If you have to hit, hit hard and quickly."

  Stampoff did not speak English. He was greatly distressed that Alecshould have been recognized the instant he alighted from the train,though Paris was then twenty-two hours distant. "Who is that?" he askedanxiously.

  "A friend from the British Embassy."

  "From an Embassy! Then we are lost."

  "It seemed to me that I was found, rather."

  "But if the Embassies know----"

  "They are invariably the worst informed centers in any country. Thefacts of which they profess total ignorance would fill many interestingvolumes. Have no fear, General. I said 'a friend.' He gave me a pleasantmessage."

  "Ah, from a woman, of course?"

  "No. But----"

  Delgrado wheeled round to face a tall burly man standing stiffly at hisside as though awaiting orders. Stampoff, who had been following thevanishing figure of Beaumanoir's emissary with suspicious eyes, turnedand looked at the newcomer.

  "Oh, that is Bosko," he said, "my servant--yours, too, for that matter.You can trust Bosko with your life. Can't he, you dog?"

  "_Oui, m'sieur!_" said Bosko.