The irony in the remark was not lost on Robin. He flushed angrily but held his tongue.
Ten o’clock found the three gentlemen,—so classified by Hobbs,—out of the Schweizerhof and arranging for accommodations at the Regina Hotel Jungfraublick, perched on an eminence overlooking the valley and some distance removed from the temporary abode of the Prince. Their departure from the hotel in the Hoheweg was accomplished without detection by Miss Guile or her friends, and, to all intents and purposes, Robin was alone and unattended when he sat down on the porch near the telescope to await the first appearance of the enchanting foe. He was somewhat puzzled by the strange submissiveness of his companions. Deep down in his mind lurked the disquieting suspicion that they were conniving to get the better of the lovely temptress by some sly and secret bit of strategy. What was back of the wily Baron’s motive? Why were they now content to let him take the bit in his teeth and run wherever he would? What had become of their anxiety, their eagerness to drag him off to Graustark by the first train? There was food for reflection in the tranquil capitulation of the defenders. Were they acting under fresh instructions from Edelweiss? Had the Prime Minister directed them to put no further obstacle in front of the great Blithers invasion? Or—and he scowled darkly at the thought—was there a plan afoot to overcome the dangerous Miss Guile by means more sinister than subtle?
Enlightenment came unexpectedly and with a shock to his composure. He had observed the three spirited saddlehorses near the entrance of the hotel, in charge of two stable-boys, but had regarded them only as splendid specimens of equine aristocracy. It had not entered his mind to look upon them as agents of despair.
Two people emerged from the door and, passing by without so much as a glance in his direction, made their way to the mounting block. Robin’s heart went down to his boots. Bedelia, a graceful figure in a smart riding habit, was laughing blithely over a soft-spoken remark that her companion had made as they were crossing the porch. And that companion was no other than the tall, good-looking fellow who had met her at Cherbourg! The Prince, stunned and incredulous, watched them mount their horses and canter away, followed by a groom who seemed to have sprung up from nowhere.
“Good morning, Mr. Schmidt,” spoke a voice, and, still bewildered, he whirled, hat in hand, to confront Mrs. Gaston. “Did I startle you?”
He bowed stiffly over the hand she held out for him to clasp, and murmured something about being proof against any surprise. The colour was slowly returning to his face, and his smile was as engaging as ever despite the bitterness that filled his soul. Here was a pretty trick to play on a fellow! Here was a slap in the face!
“Isn’t it a glorious morning? And how wonderful she is in this gorgeous sunlight,” went on Mrs. Gaston, in what may be described as a hurried, nervous manner.
“I had the briefest glimpse of her,” mumbled Robin. “When did she come?”
“Centuries and centuries ago, Mr. Schmidt,” said she, with a smile. “I was speaking of the Jungfrau.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed, flushing. “I thought you—er—yes, of course! Really quite wonderful. I have heard it said that she never removes her night-cap, but always greets the dawn in spotless—ahem! Of course you understand that I am speaking of the Jungfrau,” he floundered.
“Naturally, Mr. Schmidt. And so you came, after all. We were afraid you might have concluded to alter your plans. Miss Guile will be delighted.”
He appeared grateful for the promise. “I have been here for three days, Mrs. Gaston. You were delayed in leaving Paris?”
“Yes,” she said, and changed the subject. “The riding is quite good, I understand. They are off for Lauterbrunnen.”
“I see,” said he. “There is a splendid inn there, I am told.”
“They will return here for luncheon, of course,” she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. His heart became a trifle lighter at this. “Mr. White is a lifelong friend and acquaintance of the family,” she volunteered, apropos of nothing.
“Oh, his name is White?” with a quiet laugh.
“If you have nothing better to do, Mr. Schmidt, why not come with me to the Kursaal? The morning concert will begin shortly, and I—”
“I think you will find that the band plays in the square across the way, Mrs. Gaston, and not in the Casino. At least, that has been the programme for the last two mornings.”
“Nevertheless, there is a concert at the Casino today,” she informed him. “Will you come?”
“Gladly,” he replied, and they set off for the Kursaal. He found seats in the half-empty pavillion and prepared to listen to the music, although his real interest was following the narrow highway to Lauterbrunnen—and the Staubbach.
“This is to be a special concert given at the request of the Grand Duke who, I hear, is leaving this afternoon for Berne.”
“The Grand Duke? I was not aware of the presence of royalty,” said he in surprise.
“No? He has been here for three days, but at another hotel. The Grand Duke Paulus and his family, you know.”
Robin shot a swift, apprehensive glance about the big enclosure, sweeping the raised circle from end to end. On the opposite side of the pavillion he discovered the space reserved for the distinguished party. Although he was far removed from that section he sank deeper into his chair and found one pretext after another to screen his face from view. He did know the Grand Duke Paulus and the Grand Duke knew him, which was even more to the point.
The Prince of Graustark had been a prime favourite of the great man since his knickerbocker days. Twice as a boy he had visited in the ducal palace, far distant from Graustark, and at the time of his own coronation the Grand Duke and his sons had come to the castle in Edelweiss for a full month’s stay. They knew him well and they would recognise him at a glance. At this particular time the last thing on earth that he desired was to be hailed as a royal prince.
Never, in all his life, had he known the sun to penetrate so brightly into shadows as it did today. He felt that he was sitting in a perfect glare of light and that every feature of his face was clear to the most distant observer.
He was on the point of making an excuse to leave the place when the ducal party came sauntering down the aisle on their way to the reserved section. Every one stood up, the band played, the Grand Duke bowed to the right and to the left, and escape was cut off. Robin could only stand with averted face and direct mild execrations at the sunlight that had seemed so glorious at breakfast-time.
“He is a splendid-looking man, isn’t he?” Mrs. Gaston was saying. She was gazing in rapt admiration upon the royal group.
“He is, indeed,” said Robin, resolutely scanning a programme, which he continued to hold before his face. When he sat down again, it was with his back to the band. “I don’t like to watch the conductors,” he explained. “They do such foolish things, you know.”
Mrs. Gaston was eyeing him curiously. He was bitterly conscious of a crimson cheek. In silence they listened to the first number. While the applause was at its height, Mrs. Gaston leaned forward and said to him:
“I am afraid you are not enjoying the music, Mr. Schmidt. What is on your mind?”
He started. “I—I—really, Mrs. Gaston, I am enjoying it. I—”
“Your mind has gone horse-back riding, I fear. At present it is between here and Lauterbrunnen, jogging beside that roaring little torrent that—”
“I don’t mind confessing that you are quite right,” said he frankly. “And I may add that the music makes me so blue that I’d like to jump into that roaring torrent and—and swim out again, I suppose,” he concluded, with a sheepish grin.
“You are in love.”
“I am,” he confessed.
She laid her hand upon his. Her eyes were wide with eagerness. “Would it drive away the blues if I were to tell you that you have a chance to win her?”
He felt his head spinning. “If—if I could believe that—that-” he began, and choked up with the rush of emotion that sw
ept through him.
“She is a strange girl. She will marry for love alone. Her father is determined that she shall marry a royal prince. That much I may confess to you. She has defied her father, Mr. Schmidt. She will marry for love, and I believe it is in your power to awaken love in that adorable heart of hers. You—”
“For God’s sake, Mrs. Gaston, tell me—tell me, has she breathed a word to you that—”
“Not a single word. But I know her well. I have known her since she was a baby, and I can read the soul that looks out through those lovely eyes. Knowing her so well, I may say to you—oh, it must be in the strictest confidence!—that you have a chance. And if you win her love, you will have the greatest treasure in all the world. She—but, look! The Grand Duke is leaving. He—”
“I don’t care what becomes of the Grand Duke,” he burst out. “Tell me more. Tell me how you look into her soul, and tell me what you see—”
“Not now, sir. I have said enough. I have given you the sign of hope. It remains with you to make the most of it.”
“But you—you don’t know anything about me. I may be the veriest adventurer, the most unworthy of all—”
“I think, Mr. Schmidt, that I know you pretty well. I do not require the aid of Diogenes’ lantern to see an honest man. I am responsible for her welfare. She has been placed under my protection. For twenty years I have adored her. I am not likely to encourage an adventurer.”
“I must be honest with you, Mrs. Gaston,” he said suddenly. “I am not—”
She held up her hand. “Mr. Totten has informed me that you are a life-long friend of Mrs. Truxton King. I cabled to her from Paris. There is no more to be said.”
His face fell. “Did she tell you—everything?”
“She said no more than that R. Schmidt is the finest boy in all the world.” Suddenly her face paled. “You are never—never to breathe a word of this to—to Bedelia,” she whispered.
“But her father? What will he say to—”
“Her father has said all that can be said,” she broke in quietly. “He cannot force her to marry the man he has selected. She will marry the man she loves. Come now! Let us go. I am tired of the music.”
“Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Gaston,” he cried, with shining eyes. “God bless you!”
She gave him a queer look. “You must not think that your task is an easy one,” she said meaningly. “There are other men in the world, you know.”
CHAPTER XIX
“WHAT WILL MY PEOPLE DO!”
The Grand Duke and his party left Interlaken by special train early in the afternoon, and great was Robin’s relief when Hobbs returned with the word that they were safely on their way to the capital of Switzerland. He emerged from the seclusion of his room, where he had been in hiding since noon, and set out for a walk through the town. His head was high and his stride jaunty, for his heart was like a cork. People stared after him with smiles of admiration, and never a cocher passed him by without a genial, inviting tilt of the eyebrow and a tentative pull at the reins, only to meet with a pleasant shake of the head or the negative flourish of a bamboo cane.
Night came and with it the silvery glow of moonlight across the hoary headed queen of the Oberland. When Robin came out from dinner he seated himself on the porch, expectant, eager—and vastly lonesome. An unaccountable shyness afflicted him, rendering him quite incapable of sending his card up to the one who could have dispelled the gathering gloom with a single glance of the eye. Would she come stealing out ostensibly to look at the night-capped peak, but with furtive glances into the shadows of the porch in quest of—But no! She would not do that! She would come attended by the exasperating Mr. White and the friendly duenna. Her starry eyes, directed elsewhere, would only serve to increase the depth of the shadows in which he lurked impatient.
She came at last—and alone. Stopping at the rail not more than an arm’s length from where he sat, she gazed pensively up at the solemn mistress of the valley, one slim hand at her bosom, the other hanging limp at her side. He could have touched that slender hand by merely stretching forth his own. Breathless, enthralled, he sat as one deprived of the power or even the wish to move. The spell was upon him; he was in thralldom.
She wore a rose-coloured gown, soft, slinky, seductive. A light Egyptian scarf lay across her bare shoulders. The slim, white neck and the soft dark hair—but she sighed! He heard that faint, quick-drawn sigh and started to his feet.
“Bedelia!” he whispered softly.
She turned quickly, to find him standing beside her, his face aglow with rapture. A quick catch of the breath, a sudden movement of the hand that lay upon her breast, and then she smiled,—a wavering, uncertain smile that went straight to his heart and shamed him for startling her. “I beg your pardon,” he began lamely. “I—I startled you.”
She held out her hand to him, still smiling. “I fear I shall never become accustomed to being pursued,” she said, striving for command of her voice.
“It is dreadful to feel that some one is forever watching you from behind. I am glad it is you, however. You at least are not ‘the secret eye that never sleeps’!” She gently withdrew her hand from his ardent clasp. “Mrs. Gaston told me that she had seen you. I feared that you might have gone on your way rejoicing.”
“Rejoicing?” he cried. “Why do you say that?”
“After our experience in Paris, I should think that you had had enough of me and my faithful watchdogs.”
“Rubbish!” he exclaimed. “I shall never have enough of you,” he went on, with sudden boldness. “As for the watch-dogs, they are not likely to bite us, so what is there to be afraid of?”
“Have you succeeded in evading the watchful eye of Mr. Totten’s friend?” she enquired, sending an apprehensive glance along the porch.
“Completely,” he declared. “I am quite alone in this hotel and, I believe, unsuspected. And you? Are you still being—”
“Sh! Who knows? I think we have thrown them off the track, but one cannot be sure. I raised a dreadful rumpus about it in Paris, and—well, they said they were sorry and advised me not to be worried, for the surveillance would cease at once. Still, I am quite sure that they lied to me.”
“Then you are being followed.”
She smiled again, and there was mischief in her eyes. “If so, I have led them a merry chase. We have been travelling for two days and nights, Mr. Schmidt, by train and motor, getting off at stations unexpectedly, hopping into trains going in any direction but the right one, sleeping in strange beds and doing all manner of queer things. And here we are at last. I am sure you must look upon me as a very silly, flibberty-gibbet creature.”
“I see that your retinue has been substantially augmented,” he remarked, a trace of jealousy in his voice. “The good-looking Mr. White has not been eluded.”
“Mr. White? Oh, yes, I see. But he is to be trusted, Mr. Schmidt,” she said mysteriously—and tantalisingly. “He will not betray me to my cruel monster of a father. I have his solemn promise not to reveal my whereabouts to any one. My father is the last person in the world to whom he would go with reports of my misdoings.”
“I saw you this morning, riding with him,” said he glumly.
“Through the telescope?” she inquired softly, laying a hand upon the stationary instrument.
He flushed hotly. “It was when you were starting out, Miss Guile. I am not one of the spies, you should remember.”
“You are my partner in guilt,” she said lightly. “By the way, have you forgiven me for leading you into temptation?”
“Certainly. I am still in the Garden of Eden, you see, and as I don’t take any stock in the book of Genesis, I hope to prove to myself at least, that the conduct of an illustrious forebear of mine was not due to the frailties of Eve but to his own tremendous anxiety to get out of a place that was filled with snakes. I hope and pray that you will continue to put temptation in my path so that I may have the frequent pleasure of falling.”
&nbs
p; She turned her face away and for a moment was silent. “Shall we take those chairs over there, Mr. Schmidt? They appear to be as abandoned as we.” She indicated two chairs near the broad portals.
He shook his head. “If we are looking for the most utterly abandoned, allow me to call your attention to the two in yonder corner.”
“It is quite dark over there,” she said with a frown.
“Quite,” he agreed. “Which accounts, no doubt, for your failure to see them.”
“Mrs. Gaston will be looking for me before—” she began hesitatingly.
“Or Mr. White, perhaps. Let me remind you that they have exceedingly sharp eyes.”
“Mr. White is no longer here,” she announced.
His heart leaped. “Then I, at least, have nothing to fear,” he said quickly.
She ignored the banality. “He left this afternoon. Very well, let us take the seats over there. I rather like the—shall I say shadows?”
“I too object to the limelight,—Bedelia,” he said, offering her his arm.
“You are not to call me Bedelia,” she said, holding back.
“Then ‘forgive us our transgressions’ is to be applied in the usual order, I presume.”
“Are you sorry you called me Bedelia?” she insisted, frowning ominously.
“No. I’m sorry you object, that’s all.”
They made their way through a maze of chairs and seated themselves in the dim corner. Their view of the Jungfrau from this vine-screened corner was not as perfect as it might have been, but the Jungfrau had no present power of allurement for them.
“I cannot stay very long,” she said as she sank back in the comfortable chair.
He turned his back not only upon the occupants of the porch but the lustrous Jungfrau, drawing his chair up quite close to hers. As he leaned forward, with his elbows on the arms of the chair, she seemed to slink farther back in the depths of hers, as if suddenly afraid of him.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 127