Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

by Davis Brinton

  XXVII

  YOU ARE STILL MY KING

  It seemed that the shadows were being withdrawn from his eyes, just as acurtain is pulled back from a window. As consciousness became a morecertain quantity he wondered vaguely why he did not feel drenched anduncomfortable, instead of cozy and warm. He was aware of a pinkish-grayblur hanging above his head; this slowly resolved itself into a humanface. While he could not distinguish the features in the darkened lightof the room, he was certain that it was that of a woman.

  "Trusia," he cried ecstatically.

  "Please be quiet," responded an unfamiliar voice in a tone ofundemurrable authority. He pondered. He puzzled. Finally he gatheredcourage to speak.

  "Who are you?" he queried dubiously.

  "I am the nurse," came back indulgently through the dim haze ofsemi-consciousness still enveloping him.

  "Nurse," he exclaimed, throwing off the gray mist, to notice for thefirst time that he was in his own bed and room, in New York City.Accepting conditions as they were for the time being, he settled backand sighed the long, indolent sigh of convalescence. He glancedexpectantly toward the door, Carrick should be coming soon with the muchneeded shaving things. Carrick? It all came back to him now. He nolonger was satisfied to lie back comfortably on the pillow and dream thehazy dreams of the convalescent. Carrick was dead and he himself hadbeen drowned--but Trusia? He groaned in great distress. The nursehastened to his side.

  "Are you in pain?" she asked, a trifle surprised that such a symptomshould appear in this case.

  "No," he said abstractedly, his mind revisiting the banks of theVistula; "no, I am not in pain. I was thinking."

  The nurse held a draught to his lips. Carter resolutely put it to oneside. "Wait," he commanded, "I must know how I came here, or I will notrest with a thousand soporifics."

  "Mr. Saunderson picked you up just as you were drowning in the Vistula.You have been ill ever since--delirious."

  "Good old Billy," he said in gratitude, then turned a silent inquiry onthe nurse. She saw the awful heart-hunger in his eyes and, had shefollowed her impulse, would have thrown a sisterly arm about him insolace, so compelling was the look, so hopeless its message. "Wasany--was any one saved with me?" he ventured. "Did any one come with mehere? On the boat? For God's sake, nurse, tell me." His quivering lifeseemed hanging in the balance. The magnitude of his gravity filled thewoman with sudden apprehension. She feared equally to tell him or refusehim.

  "I was not there, Mr. Carter. I cannot tell," she compromised. "Mr.Saunderson will make his usual call this afternoon. You can ask him; hewill doubtless tell you." Partially reassured by this, Carter fellasleep.

  When he awoke he felt much stronger. The nurse was standing at thebedside smiling down at him.

  "Mr. Saunderson is waiting in the library. If I let him come in to seeyou, will you be good?"

  Carter readily promised, as he would have anything just then, at theopportunity of resolving his doubts. Saunderson was ushered in quietly;when he bent over the patient, the latter wrenched the proffered handwith hysterical strength.

  "See here, Carter, this won't do," said his caller, making a wry face;"I believe that you have been shamming these two months."

  "Two months?" Carter sat upright. "Have I been laid up that long?"

  "To the very day," said Saunderson, smiling.

  "Tell me, Billy, how you came to be out there. I want to thank you forsaving my life, though I don't know yet whether you have done a wise ora foolish thing."

  "So? How soon can you let me know? Dorothy says it's the only sensible,useful thing I've ever done. You always were a favorite of Mrs.Saunderson, you know."

  "It's a serious matter, Billy, so I want the truth for what I'm going toask you. Give it to me straight from the shoulder and don't mincematters. Promise?"

  "I must confess, Cal, I don't see what you're driving at, but I supposeit's all right. Yes, I promise. Now, fire away. Wait a minute. PerhapsI'd better lead off with how I got there. You've been pretty loose uphere, you know," he touched his forehead by way of illustration."Perhaps I may save you the worry of framing up questions--my accountmay cover everything."

  "Did I talk much--rot?" asked Carter.

  "Yes, rather. Calling all the time for Trusia--said Carrick was aKing--and lots more of the same kind. Who was Trusia?"

  "The Duchess of Schallberg." Carter's reply was unnaturally grave andhis face solemn and tense. "Tell me, Billy," he requested quietly,"when I sank--was there any one with me?"

  "It might have been a bundle of rags--it might have been a man or awoman, I rather thought it was a woman. What did you do, Cal, run offwith some Cossack's wife?"

  "It was Her Grace."

  "The deuce it was!" exclaimed Saunderson.

  Carter bent forward until their faces were close. "Oh, Billy," he beggedpiteously, "don't tell me you let her drown! Don't tell me she is dead!Don't----"

  "I didn't. She isn't," said Saunderson with more care for denial thanlucidity. He laid a restraining, friendly hand on Carter's shoulder.

  "You saved her too, then?" The thin talon-like hand clutched Billy'slike a vise.

  "No," answered Saunderson reluctantly, beginning to see how mattersstood.

  "Where is she then?" was the eager question.

  "See here, Cal, you haven't given me a chance to tell you how I came tobe there. I'm just aching for the opportunity too. You don't know it,but I had a bet with Jackson that you'd go over there when the matterbecame known to you. Naturally I took more than a casual interest inKrovitch after that. Reports got disturbing, so I ran the _Bronx_ overto sort of hang around until needed. To be perfectly frank, I waslooking for you. When the skipper called me that morning and said someone was swimming for the boat I took a long guess that it was you. Thefirst time you sank the launch was almost on top of you. We pulled youout of the very claws of a Cossack."

  "But the girl?--But Her Grace of Schallberg?" It was pitiable how abjecta strong man could become.

  "If that was the Duchess of Schallberg, Cal, a second Russian picked herup, apparently unconscious, and made off with her--toward the Austrianshore. Just why he went that way no one seemed to know. His comradesfired after them. No, don't start; no one hit. Bum shots, thoseAsiatics."

  Seeing the terrible pressure under which Carter was laboring, the nursecame forward at this juncture and sent Saunderson away. For someunaccountable reason Carter could not force the conviction on himselfthat serious evil had befallen Trusia. Hope departs only with life.Paradoxical as it may seem, he worried not about her safety, but aboutthe dangers which, without his aid, she could overcome only with greatdifficulty. Such is the egotism of love. He reverted anxiously to thestory of her questionable rescue. Who could the Cossack have been--whyhadn't he returned to his comrades? Why,--why,--why? Question followedquestion, like the alarm bells at a fire. At last he wearily fellasleep.

  He opened his eyes the second time to find the day was gatheringdarkness from the corners and niches of the room.

  "Nurse," he called. In an instant, silent as the gloaming, sheapproached the bed. "Might I have my mail? It must have beenaccumulating for months."

  "You must not read," she said firmly.

  "Then read for me," he urged.

  Wise as any daughter of Eve, she selected intuitively that one letterwhich she knew would satisfy him so that he would forget there wereothers. It bore the post-mark "Wien."

  "Here is one from Vienna," she explained, "shall I read that?"

  "Yes, yes," he acceded, tingling with anticipation. She tore off theedge with feminine precision. "Who wrote it?" he queried, unable toawait its perusal. He was partly up now, leaning forward on his elbow,his white face gleaming through the dusk. The green shade of the lampaccentuated his pallor.

  "It is signed 'Sobieska,'" she replied, after turning to thesubscription.

  "Oh," he said in evident disappointment, and sank back on the pillow.

  "Here's what he says:

  "MY
DEAR MAJOR CARTER:

  "When Her Grace, under your escort, left us on the road to the charcoal burner's we had a desperate fight. Muhlen-Sarkey, after giving a good account of himself, fell like the noble gentleman he was and jested with death. Zulka was killed in a three-to-one fight. Delmotte fell badly wounded but not seriously. Casimir and the rest were killed. A cut over the head rendered me unconscious and I fell across Delmotte. Supposing that we were dead, anxious for repairs themselves, the Russians did not disturb us. About dusk I came to and aided Delmotte across the frontier. I returned, determined to reinforce you and Her Grace if I could catch up with you, for I had found out how things were at your first stopping-place.

  "Carefully following the path to the ferry, imagine my surprise at espying a man running rapidly along the same path but toward me. The mutual discovery was simultaneous. It was Josef. He, quicker than I could, drew his revolver. By dodging behind trees, however, I got past him. Had I not had a more sacred duty to Her Grace just then, I should have risked all for the pleasure of killing that snake. After this rencounter, I proceeded more carefully until I reached the cabin in the clearing. Here I found the bodies of two Russian Cossacks, dead apparently from the night before. Both had been killed by the sword. Your work, as I surmised. One was a lieutenant. I appropriated his uniform as a safeguard in case I met other interruptions. His horse was luckily tethered in the woods. Thanking my good fortune, I mounted and pushed on.

  "I soon was to be enlightened as to the dangers of your flight; though in sympathy with the quarry I was running with the hunters.

  "Stimulated by a large reward, offered by their commandant at Schallberg, the country was overrun by Russians searching for the Lady Trusia. I constantly met them. Being very ignorant fellows, they took me for what I seemed to be. By working on their credulity I got each party that I met to believe that I had private information as to the whereabouts of the fugitives whom I had been despatched to capture by the commanding officer himself. Of course forbidding them to follow me, they all trailed after me. Supposing that you had followed the bypath, I plunged right through the most trackless part of the wilderness, to keep the pursuit as far from you as possible. What my fate would be when they discovered I had cheated them, I didn't stop to weigh; if I knew Her Grace was safe, I could but die.

  "Imagine my despair when, on reaching the Vistula, I found I had actually led the pursuit right upon you. At first I considered the advisability of selling my life then and there, carrying down as many as possible in death with me, but I saw that my sword could not account for enough to scare off the pursuit. When you took to the water, I apparently joined the chase. By your side, in the water, I would have a better chance. I helped Her Grace to escape. Was sorry to leave you, but my first duty was to save her. You were not wholly neglected either. I saw you pulled aboard a yacht, which, not seeing my desperate signals, took its course at once toward the mouth of the river.

  "Her Grace is safe. I have offered her the poor protection of my impoverished name, only to learn that she loves you. I assure you that since I learned this, no sister could receive tenderer treatment. I congratulate you. Come at once. Frankly, my scanty funds will be exhausted in three weeks' time. It is impossible to get employment here."

  There followed some friendly phrases, their address in Vienna, and thesubscription.

  "What is the date of the letter?" Carter asked apprehensively.

  "June second," came the quiet reply.

  "And to-day is----"

  "July seventeenth."

  "What has become of them?" he groaned. "What can they think of me? Amessenger boy, nurse, at once. Are you paralyzed?"

  XXVIII

  A RE-UNION

  Four short months before, Carter and Carrick had set out for Krovitch.It did not seem possible that so many conclusive, completed events couldhave transpired in that limited time. It seemed more like some whirlwinddream to the man who, pale and wan, sat in the reading-room of theRacquet Club gazing indolently at the passing throng outside the clubwindows. It was Calvert Carter, of course, who so reasoned.

  Carrick was dead, he continued in his reflections. Of a certainty thishad been a grievous blow, but even this was overshadowed by the doubt asto the whereabouts of his beloved Trusia.

  "Four months ago," he said aloud in his surprise, "the same man sat inthis same club, before this same window, and"--he paused, while his handran along the arm of the chair as he glanced down at it,--"in this verychair. He fretted because life could not give him enough of excitementand contest--could not give him love. Well, to show him that herresources were boundless, Life gave him all he wanted--then took backher gifts." Relapsing into silence again with a heavy sigh, hecontemplated the strange warp of destiny.

  Trusia, his beloved Trusia,--where was she? Wealth had not been spared,nor time, in a hitherto fruitless effort to locate her. On this, hisfirst excursion from the sick-room, he was already planning to take upthe search himself--to scour Europe until he found her. Yet someinstinct, stronger than he dared admit, warned him that she was closerto him where he now sat.

  Puzzled, he gazed out the window, hoping that the panorama of the movingcrowds would ease his worried mind. A man's face detached itself fromthe encircling throng, catching and holding Carter's attention. Heleaned eagerly forward, why, he could not have explained. At this, theman, also turned and looked. An impartial observer of both would havesaid that these two were in doubt as to whether they recognized eachother. The man on the sidewalk, while clean, was rather seedy-lookingand apparently a foreigner. His face was drawn and hollow as thoughprivation had sculptured there. His beard was full and streaked withgray. His eyes alternately burned with the fires of inward visions anddulled with disappointment at hopes destroyed. Carter arose and wentcloser to the window, with steps still unsteady in his convalescence.

  The stranger had passed, but, noting Carter's action, repassed,evidently as much at loss as the man inside. To him, too, there wassomething strangely familiar about the thin, pale face, the languid,hopeless air, of the man in the club window,--but they were not theattributes of the man he remembered. Nor was this shade the vigorousfriend he had known so short a while before.

  Carter walked deliberately out to the street and extended his hand tothe passer-by who had so strangely moved him. Recognition was complete.

  "It is you, at last, Sobieska," he said as the thin hand of theKrovitzer closed over his own. A smile lighted up the half-veiled eyes,he read in the American's soul that word of their distress had come toolate.

  "Come into the club," Carter urged him. Sobieska smiled grimly as heglanced down at his shabby garments. Carter understood.

  "Let's walk out to the Park," suggested the Krovitzer. "I have somethingto tell you that I know you are anxious to hear. Wait, though, until weget out of the crowd. You don't want Fifth Avenue as an audience, doyou?" he asked as he noted the quick joy which lit Carter's face.

  "Just one question," Calvert begged. "Is she well?"

  "Yes," replied the Krovitzer, confining himself to the naked assent.Then, pitying the man who had been so wofully shaken since their partingin Krovitch, he opened the gate of Pity a bit and added, "She is in NewYork."

  Carter stopped short in the street and turned to read in the other'seyes whether this promised miracle was true or false. He reached out andcaught Sobieska's hand and wrung it with the fervor he would fain haveloosed in a cheer.

  "Thank God," he said vehemently. "Are we going to her, now?"

  Sobieska nodded an affirmative.

  "Is it far?"

  "Not over two miles."

  "And you intend to walk? Great Scott, man, do you think I have lead inmy veins instead of blood?"

  "No, Carter, but remember that I have no longer money at my command.Povert
y has taught me strange tricks of economy. Pride would not let methink of asking you if you preferred riding."

  "You might have known," said Carter reproachfully, "that every cent Ihave would be at your disposal for such an errand."

  His companion nodded his head wearily. Was the fellow not satisfied, hethought? It meant that he was being led to the woman that he, Sobieska,loved with fervor equal to Carter's. Why should he hasten the minutethat would place her in the American's arms? Ah, well, Trusia loved him.That must suffice. They entered a cab which had drawn up in answer toCarter's hail.

  "I will not apologize for our lodgings," said Sobieska, as he gave acheap East Side locality to the driver as their destination. "Thousandsof my countrymen have no better."

  As the cab rattled along, he gave the details of their variedvicissitudes and the determined faith of Trusia in Carter, culminatingin her insistence that they come to New York to find him. "Some womaninstinct told her that you had not received my letter and she fearedthat some calamity had befallen you that nothing but her coming woulddispel." By the work of his hands and the sweat of his brow he hadfinally been able to secure their passage on an ocean steamship.

  "We arrived two weeks ago to-morrow," said the Krovitzer. "Twice Icalled at your house, three times at your club. They supposed I was somebeggar, no doubt, and never gave you my messages. Having no money overactual necessities for either telephones or postage stamps, I took thepoor man's way of communicating with you while I sought work--waitedtill I could see you. In fact, Carter, to be perfectly frank, I did notknow but that our altered circumstances might influence you as it hassome other acquaintances I have appealed to."

  "That is unjust, Sobieska," said Carter.

  "I should have known better," answered Sobieska apologetically, "but,Carter, we have had some pretty hard knocks. You were silent to myletter--how could I guess you were ill? I was rebuffed at both yourhouse and club. A sensitive man might well read your acquiescence insuch treatment. Will you accept my apology? Here we are," he added, asthe cab drew up to the curb.

  "Don't apologize," said Carter, shaking him by the hand, while his eyeshungrily devoured the front of the tenement with avidity that sought forsome sign of Trusia. "Is this the place?" The grimy pile was sanctifiedin his eyes as it sheltered the woman to whom he had given his wholeheart.

  Trembling like an eager child, after dismissing the cabby, he scrambledbreathlessly after his guide up steep and dirty stairs to the thirdfloor, past passages and open doors, which showed more than one familyhuddled together in single apartments.

  "She does not live as these?" he asked with repugnance.

  "No," said his companion, regarding a group with unconcealedcompassion, "I was fortunate enough to secure a separate room for her,poor as it is." But the man nobly concealed the price he had had to pay,to be content to sleep upon a straw mattress in a sub-cellar--nor didTrusia know what sacrifices her former minister was making for hermeagre comforts.

  The door of an apartment stood open at the end of the next turn in theentry. Both men, hushed by conflicting emotions, stood regarding thescene before them.

  At a window, her face a trifle thinner, more _spirituelle_, because ofher heartaches, sat Trusia. The light, touching the edges of her hair,glinted into an iridescent halo about her face. Across her knees lay alittle child. Its mother, with anxious, peasant face, was bending overits ailing form, while the large, whole-souled regard which Trusia bentupon the tiny form made a picture of a modern Madonna.

  Then, the air whispered its tidings to her soul. She glanced up and sawCarter standing in the passageway. Gently placing the infant in thematernal arms held out for it, she arose and without a spoken word cameto him; came so close that there was nothing for him to do but to takeher tenderly in his arms. Assured of their right, her hands lay on hisshoulders, while her eyes sought out his soul.

  Then, careless whether the whole world looked on or not, their lips metgently, lingeringly.

  "Though all thrones have fallen," she sighed blissfully, "you are stillmy King."

  "Trusia, my Trusia," he said, while Sobieska fled silently from theirview.

  FINALE