“She was stringing you, old man,” said Anguish, after they had turned away from the third station. He spoke commiseratingly, as he really felt sorry.
“No!” exclaimed Lorry. “She told me the truth. There is a Graustark and she lives there. I’ll stake my life on those eyes of hers.”
“Are you sure she said it was in Europe?” asked Harry, looking up and down the street as if he would not have been surprised to see her in Paris. In his heart he believed that she and her precious relatives had deceived old Gren. Perhaps their home was in Paris, and nowhere else. But for Lorry’s positiveness he would have laughed heartily at the other’s simple credulity, or branded him a dolt, the victim of some merry actress’s whim. Still, he was forced to admit, he was not in a position to see matters as they appeared, and was charitable enough to bide his time and to humor the faith that was leading them from place to place in the effort to find a land that they knew nothing about. Lorry seemed so sure, so positive, that he was loath to see his dream dispelled, his ideal shattered. There was certainly no Graustark; neither had the Guggenslockers sailed on the Wilhelm, all apparent evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. Lorry had been in a delirium and had imagined he saw her on the ship. If there, why was not her name in the list? But that problem tortured the sanguine searcher himself.
At last, in despair, after a fruitless search of two days, Lorry was willing to submit. With the perverseness common to half-defeated fighters, Anguish at once protested, forgetting that he had sought to dissuade his friend the day before.
“We’ll go to the library of Paris and take a look through the books and maps,” he said. “Or, better still, let us go to the post office. There! Why have we not thought of that? What there is of Graustark they’ll know in the postal service.”
Together they visited the chief post office, where, after being directed to various deputies and clerks, they at length found the department in which the information was obtainable. Inside of five minutes they were in possession of facts that vindicated Miss Guggenslocker, lifted Lorry to the seventh heaven, and put Mr. Anguish into an agony of impatience. Graustark was a small principality away off to the east, and Edelweiss was a city of some seventy-five thousand inhabitants, according to the postal guide-book.
The Americans could learn no more there, so they went to Baedecker’s office. Here they found a great map, and, after a diligent and almost microscopic search, succeeded in discovering the principality of Graustark. Then they looked at each other in dismay.
“It’s a devil of a distance to that little red blot on the map,” mused Lorry, pulling his nose reflectively. “What an outlandish place for a girl like her to live in,” he continued. “And that sweet-faced old lady and noble Uncle Caspar! Ye gods! one would think barbarians existed there and not such people as the Guggenslockers, refined, cultivated smart, rich. I’m more interested than ever in the place.”
“So am I! I’m willing and ready to make the trip, old man, if you are still of a mind. It’s a lark, and, besides, she may not be the only pretty and gracious girl there. We’ve had bard work to find it on the map, let’s not stop till we see Edelweiss on the earth itself.”
They made hasty preparations for the journey. Anguish, romantic and full of adventure, advised the purchase of a pair of pistols and a knife apiece, maintaining that, as they were going into an unknown and mountainous region, they should be prepared for brigands and other elements of danger. Lorry pooh-poohed the suggestion of brigands, but indulged his mood by buying some ugly-looking revolvers and inviting the prospect of something really thrilling in the way of an adventure. With their traps they were soon whirling through France, bound for a certain great city, on the road to Edelweiss, one filled with excitement, eagerness and boyish zeal, the other harrassed by the sombre fear that a grave disappointment was in store for him. Through the glamour and the picturesqueness of the adventure there always crept the unconquerable feeling that he was on a fool’s errand, that he was committing a deed so weak and brainless that it was sure to make him a veritable laughing-stock when it became known. After all, who was Miss Guggenslocker—brewer, baker, gardener or sausage-maker.
Traveling, of course, was pleasant at this time of the year, and the two Americans saw much that interested them along the way. Their French, especially Anguish’s, was of great value to them, for they found occasion to use it at all times and in all places. Both spoke German fairly well, and took every opportunity to brush up in that language, Lorry remembering that the Guggenslockers used many expressions that showed a preference for the Teutonic. The blithe Anguish, confident and in high feather, was heart and soul in the odd expedition of love, and talked incessantly of their reception by the far-away hostess, their impressions and the final result. His camera and sketching materials were packed away with his traps. It was his avowed intention to immortalize the trip by means of plate, palate and brush.
At the end of two days they reached a certain large city,—the first change, and then seven hundred miles to another. The distance from this point to the capital of Graustark was two hundred miles or more, chiefly through mountainous lands. Somewhat elated by the cheerful information there received, they resumed the journey to Edelweiss, the city of vale, slope and park,—summer, fall and winter. Changing cars at the end of the second day out, they sat back in the dusty seats of their carriage and sighed with relief.
“Unless we jump the track, this train will land us in the city we are looking for,” said Anguish, stretching out his legs comfortably. “I’ll admit it has been a tiresome journey, and I’ll be glad when we can step into a decent hotel, have a rub, and feel like white men once more. I am beginning to feel like these dirty Slavs and Huns we saw ’way back there.”
“There’s one thing certain,” said Lorry, looking out of the window. “The people and the habitations are different and the whole world seems changed since we left that station. Look at those fellows on horseback over there.”
“What did I tell you about brigands and robbers!” exclaimed Anguish. “If those fellows are not bandits I’ll lose faith in every novel I ever read.”
The train rolled slowly past three mounted men whose steeds stood like statues upon a little knoll to the right of the track, men and beasts engaged in silent contemplation of the cars. The men, picturesquely attired and looking fierce, carrying long rifles, certainly bore an aspect that suggested the brigand. When the guard entered the carriage Anguish asked in German for some information concerning the riders.
“Dey’re frontier police-guards,” responded the man in English, smiling at their astonishment. Both Americans arose and shook hands with him.
“By George, it’s good to hear a man talk white man’s language,” cried Anguish.
“How do you come to be holding a job on this road? An Englishman?” demanded Lorry. He looked anything but English.
“I’m not an Englishman,” said the guard, flushing slightly. “My name’s Sitzky, and I’m an American, sir.”
“An American!” exclaimed Lorry. Sitzky grew loquacious.
“Sure! I used to be a sailor on a United States man-o’war. A couple of years ago I got into trouble down at Constantinople and had to get out of de service. After dat I drifted up dis way and went to railroadin’.” He hadn’t exactly the manner of a man-of-warsman.
“How long have you been on this road?” asked Grenfall.
“’Bout a year, I should t’ink. Been on dis branch only two months, dough.”
“Are you pretty well acquainted in Edelweiss?”
“Oh, I run in dere every other day—in an’ out ag’in. It’s a fine place,—purtiest you ever saw in your life. The town runs right up the mountain to the tip-top where the monks are—clear up in d’ clouds. Dey say it snows up dere almost all d’ time.”
Later on, from the loquacious guard, the two Americans learned quite a good bit about the country and city to which they were going. His knowledge was somewhat limited along certain lines, but quite c
lear as to others.
“Dis Graustark, ’s fer as I know, is eeder a sort o’ state or somet’ing belongin’ to de Umpire, governed by it’s own rulers. Edelweiss is de capital, d’ big guns of d’ land lives dere. I’ve walked out and saw d’ castle where d’ Princess and d’ royalty hangs out. D’ people speak a language of deir own, and I can’t get next to a t’ink dey say. But once in a while you find some guy dat talks French or German. Dey’ve got a little standin’ army of two t’ree t’ousand men an’ dey’ve got de hottest uniforms you ever did see—red an’ black an’ gold. I don’t see why d’ United Rates can’t get up somethin’ foxy fer her soldiers to wear. Had a war over here not long ago, I understand—somethin’ like ten or fifteen years ago. Dere’s another little country up north of Graustark, and dey got in a wrangle ’bout somethin’, and dey tell me in Edelweiss dat for ’bout a year dey fought like Sam Patch.”
“Which was victorious?” demanded Lorry, deeply interested.
“I’m not sure. To hear d’ Edelweiss people talk you’d t’ink dey licked d’ daylights out of d’ other slobs, but somehow I got next to d’ fact dat dem other fellows captured de city an’ went after a slashin’ big war indemnity. I don’t know much ’bout it, an’ maybe I’m clear off but I t’ink d’ Graustark army was trashed. Every t’ing is prosperous now, dough, an’ you’d never know dere’d been a war. It’s d’most peaceable town I ever saw.”
“Did you ever hear of the Guggenslockers?” asked the irrepressible Anguish, and Lorry felt like kicking him.
“In Edelweiss? Never did. Friends of yours?”
“Acquaintances,” interposed Lorry, hastily, frowning at Anguish.
“You won’t have any trouble findin’ ’em if dere anybody at all,” said Sitzky, easily. “D’ hotel people ought to be able to tell you all ’bout ’em.”
“By the way, what is the best hotel there?” asked Anguish.
“Dere’s d’ Burnowentz, one block north of d’ depot.” The travelers looked at one another and smiled, Sitzky observing the action. “Oh,” he said, pleasantly, “dere’s a swell joint uptown called d’ Regengetz. It’s too steep fer me, but maybe you gents can stand it. It you’ll hang around d’ depot fer a little while after we get in I’ll steer you up dere.”
“We’ll make it worth your while, Sitzky,” said Lorry.
“Never mind dat, now. Americans ought to stick together, no matter where dey are. We’ll have a drink an’ ’at’s all, just to show we’re fellow countrymen.”
“We’ll have several drinks, and we’ll eat and drink tonight at the ‘swell joint’ you talk about,” said Anguish.
“We may drink dere, but I’ll not eat dere. Dey wouldn’t let a railroad guard inside de feedin’ pen. Why, nothin’ but royal guys eat dere when dey’re down town shoppin’ or exposin’ demselves to public gaze.”
True to his word, when they reached Edelweiss late that afternoon Sitzky, their friend of uncertain origin, hurriedly finished his work and joined the travelers in the station. Lorry and Anguish were deeply interested in all they saw, the strange people, the queer buildings, the odd costumes and the air of antiquity that prevailed. Once upon the narrow, clean street they saw that Edelweiss was truly a city of the mountain-side. They had expected something wonderful, but were not prepared for what they found. The city actually ran up into the clouds. There was something so grand, so improbable, so unusual in the spectacle confronting them that they stared like children, aghast and stupefied. Each had the startling impression that a great human-dotted mountain was falling over upon his head; it was impossible to subdue the sensation of dizziness that the toppling town inspired.
“I know how you feel,” observed Sitzky, laughing. “I was just d’ same at first. Tomorrow you walk a little ways up d’ side of d’ mountain an’ you’ll see how much of d’ city dere is on level ground down here. Dem buildings up dere ain’t more’n one-fiftieth part of d’town. Dey’re mostly summer homes. It gets hot as blazes down here in d’ valley in d’ middle of d’ summer and d’ rich ones move up d’ mountain.”
“How in thunder do people get up to those houses?” demanded Anguish.
“Mules,” answered Sitzky, specifically. “Say! See dat little old feller comin’ on horseback—wid d’ white uniform? Well, dat’s de chief of police, an’ d’ fellers behind him are police guards. ’At’s old Dangloss himself. He’s a peach, dey say.”
A short, grizzly-faced man, attired in a white uniform with red trimmings, followed by three men similarly garbed, rode by, going in the direction of the passenger station. Dangloss, as Sitzky had called him, was quite small in stature, rather stout, gray-bearded and eagle-nosed. His face was keen and red, and not at all the kind to invite familiarity. As he passed them the railroad guard of American citizenship touched his cap and the two travelers bowed, whereupon the chief of police gave them a most profound salutation, fairly sweeping his saddleskirts with his white cap.
“Polite old codger,” observed Anguish.
“His company manners. Just let him get you in d’ sweatbox, if you t’ink he’s polite.”
“Ever been there?”
“Well,” a little confusedly, “I pasted a Graustark baggage-smasher down in d’ yards two weeks ago, an’ dey had me up. I proved d’ feller insulted a lady, an’ old Dangloss let me off, sayin’ I’d ought to have a medal. Dese guys are great on gallantry when ladies is concerned. If it hadn’t been fer dat, I’d be in d’ lock-up now. An’ say, you ought to see d’ lock-up! It’s a tower, wid dungeons an’ all dat sort of t’ing. A man couldn’t no more get out ’n’ he could fly up to d’ monastery. Dey’re great on law an’ order here, too. D’ Princess has issued strictest kind of rules an’ everybody has to live up to ’em like as if dey was real gospel. I t’ought I’d put you next, gents, so’s you wouldn’t be doin’ anyt’ing crooked here.”
“Thanks,” said Lorry, drily. “We shall try to conduct ourselves discreetly in the city.”
Probably a quarter mile farther down the narrow, level street they came to the bazaars, the gaudy stores, and then the hotel. It was truly a hostelry to inspire respect and admiration in the mind of such as Sitzky, for it was huge and well equipped with the modern appointments. As soon as the two Americans had been given their rooms, they sent for their luggage. Then they went out to the broad piazza, with its columns and marble balustrades, and looked for Sitzky, remembering their invitation to drink. The guard had refused to enter the hotel with them, urging them to allow him to remain on the piazza. He was not there when they returned, but they soon saw him. On the sidewalk he was arguing with a white-uniformed police guard, and they realized that he had been ejected from sacred precincts.
They promptly rescued him from the officer, who bowed and strode away as soon as they interceded.
“Dese fellers is slick enough to see you are swells and I’m not,” said Sitzky, not a bit annoyed by his encounter. “I’ll bet my head ’at inside ten minutes old Dangloss will know who you are, where you come from an’ what you’re doin’ here.”
“I’ll bet fifty heads he won’t find out what we’re doing here,” grinned Anguish, looking at Lorry. “Well, let’s hunt up the thirst department.”
They found the little apartment in which drinks were served at tables, and before they said good-by to Sitzky in front of the hotel, a half hour later, that worthy was in exceeding good humor and very much flushed in the face. He said he would be back in two days, and if they needed him for any purpose whatever, they could reach him by a note at the railway station.
“Funny how you run across an American in every nook and corner of the world,” mused Lorry, as they watched the stocky ex-man-o’warsman stroll off towards his hotel.
“If we can run across the Guggenslockers as easily, we’ll be in luck. When shall we begin the hunt? Tonight?”
“We can make a few inquiries concerning them. They certainly are people of importance here.”
“I don’t see the name on any of the brewe
ry signs around town,” observed Anguish, consolingly. “There’s evidently no Guggenslocker here.”
They strolled through the streets near the hotel until after six o’clock, wondering at the quaint architecture, the pretty gardens and the pastoral atmosphere that enveloped the city. Everybody was busy, contented, quiet and happy. There was no bustle or strife, no rush, no beggars. At six they saw hundreds of workingmen on the streets, going to their homes; shops were closed and there came to their ears the distant boom of cannon, evidently fired from different points of the compass and from the highland as well as the lowland.
“The toy army is shooting off the good-night guns,” speculated Anguish. “I suppose everybody goes to bed now.
“Or to dinner,” substituted Lorry, and they returned to the Regengetx. The dining hall was spacious and beautiful, a mixture of the oriental and the mediaeval. It rapidly filled.
“Who the dickens can all these people be? They look well,” Anguish whispered, as if he feared their nearest neighbors might understand his English.
“They are unquestionably of the class in which we must expect to find the Guggenslockers.”
Before the meal was over the two strangers saw that they were attracting a great deal of attention from the other guests of the house. The women, as well as the men, were eyeing them and commenting quite freely, it was easy to see. These two handsome, smooth-faced young Americans were as men from another world, so utterly unlike their companions were they in personal appearance. They were taller, broader and more powerfully built than the swarthy-faced men about them, and it was no wonder that the women allowed admiration to show in their eyes. Toward the end of the dinner several officers came in, and the Americans took particular pains to study them. They were cleanly-built fellows, about medium height, wiry and active. As a class, the men appeared to average five feet seven inches in height, some a little taller, some a little shorter. The two strangers were over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and athletic. They looked like giants among these Graustark men.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 27