The Prime Minister tapped reflectively upon the table-top with his fingers for a moment or two.
“Thank you,” he said. “We are at this very moment in something of a quandary in respect to the renewal of a treaty with one of our neighbours. For the past twenty years we have been in alliance with our next door neighbours, Axphain on the north and Dawsbergen on the south and east. The triple alliance will end this year unless renewed. Up to the present our relations have been most amiable. Axphain stands ready to extend our mutual protective agreement for another term of years, but Dawsbergen is lukewarm and inclined to withdraw. When you become better acquainted with the politics of our country you will understand how regrettable such an action on the part of a hitherto friendly government will be.”
“What’s the grievance?” inquired Mr. Blithers, bluntly. He was edging into familiar waters now. “What’s the matter with Dawsbergen? Money controversy?”
“Not at all,” said Lazzar hastily.
“Why not let ’em withdraw?” said Mr. Blithers. “We can get along without them.”
There was a general uplifting of heads at the use of the pronoun, and a more fixed concentration of gaze.
“I daresay you are already acquainted with the desire on the part of Dawsbergen to form an alliance in which Axphain can have no part,” said Baron Romano. “In other words, it has been the desire of both Dawsbergen and Graustark to perfect a matrimonial alliance that may cement the fortunes of the two countries—”
“Count Quinnox mentioned something of the sort,” interrupted Mr. Blithers. “But suppose this matrimonial alliance doesn’t come off, who would be the sufferer, you or Dawsbergen? Who will it benefit the most?”
There was a moment’s silence. Doubtless it had never occurred to the Ministry to speculate on the point.
“Dawsbergen is a rich, powerful country,” said Romano. “We will be the gainers by such an alliance. Mr. Blithers.”
“I don’t go much on alliances,” said the capitalist. “I believe in keeping out of them if possible.”
“I see,” said the Baron reflectively. There was another silence. Then: “It has come to our notice in a most direct manner that the Prince of Dawsbergen feels that his friendly consideration of a proposal made by our government some years ago is being disregarded in a manner that can hardly be anything but humiliating to him, not only as a sovereign but as a father.”
“He’s the one who has the marriageable daughter, eh? I had really forgotten the name.”
The Baron leaned forward, still tapping the table-top with his long, slim fingers.
“The report that Prince Robin is to marry your daughter, Mr. Blithers, has reached his ears. It is only natural that he should feel resentful. For fifteen years there has been an understanding that the Crown Princess of Dawsbergen and the Prince of Graustark were one day to be wedded to each other. You will admit that the present reports are somewhat distressing to him and unquestionably so to the Crown Princess.”
Mr. Blithers settled back in his chair. “It seems to me that he is making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Baron Romano shrank perceptibly. “It devolves upon me, sir, as spokesman for the Ministry, the court and the people of Graustark, to inform you that marriage between our Prince and any other than the Crown Princess of Dawsbergen is not to be considered as possible.”
Mr. Blithers stared. “Hasn’t the Prince any voice in the matter?” he demanded.
“Yes. He has already denied, somewhat publicly, that he is not contemplating marriage with your daughter. He has had a voice in that matter at least.”
A fine moisture started out on the purplish brow of Mr. Blithers. Twenty-two eyes were upon him. He realised that he was not attending an informal conference. He had been brought here for a deliberate purpose.
“I may be permitted the privilege of reminding you, my lords, that his denial was no more emphatic than that expressed by my daughter,” he said, with real dignity.
“We have accepted her statement as final, but it is our earnest desire that the minds of the people be set at rest,” said the Baron gravely. “I sincerely trust that you will appreciate our position, Mr. Blithers. It is not our desire or intention to offend in this matter, but we believe it to be only fair and just that we should understand each other at the outset. The impression is afoot that—”
“My lords,” said Mr. Blithers, rising, his face suddenly pale, “I beg leave to assure you that my daughter’s happiness is of far more importance to me than all the damned principalities in the world. Just a moment, please. I apologise for the oath—but I mean it, just the same. I do not resent your attitude, nor do I resent your haste in conveying to me your views on the subject. It may be diplomacy to go straight to a question and get it over with, but it isn’t always diplomatic to go off half-cocked. I will say, with perfect candour, that I should like to see my daughter the Princess of Graustark, but—by God! I want you to understand that her own wishes in the matter are to govern mine in the end. I have had this marriage in mind, there’s no use denying it. I have schemed to bring these two young people together with a single object in view. I knew that if they saw enough of each other they would fall in love, and they would want the happiness that love brings to all people. Just a moment, Baron! I want to say to you now, all of you, that if my girl should love your prince and he should love her in return, there isn’t a power below heaven that can keep them apart. If she doesn’t love him, and he should be unlucky enough to love her, I’d see him hanged before he could have her. I’ll admit that I have counted on seeing all of this come to pass, and that I have bungled the thing pretty badly because I’m a loving, selfish father,—but, my lords, since you have brought me here to tell me that it is impossible for my girl to marry your prince, I will say to you, here and now, that if they ever love each other and want to get married, I’ll see to it that it isn’t impossible. You issue an ultimatum to me, in plain words, so I’ll submit one to you, in equally plain words. I intend to leave this matter entirely to my daughter and Prince Robin. They are to do the deciding, so far as I am concerned. And if they decide that they love each other and want to get married, they will get married. Do I make myself perfectly plain, my lords?”
The dignified Ministry of Graustark sat agape. With his concluding words, Mr. Blithers deposited his clenched fist upon the table with a heavy thud, and, as if fascinated, every eye shifted from his face to the white knuckles of that resolute hand.
Baron Romano also arose. “You place us in the extremely distressing position of being obliged to oppose the hand of a benefactor, Mr. Blithers. You have come to our assistance in a time of need. You have—”
“If it is the loan you are talking about, Baron, that is quite beside the question,” interrupted Mr. Blithers. “I do not speculate. I may have had a personal motive in lending you this money, but I don’t believe you will find that it enters into the contract we have signed. I don’t lend money for charity’s sake. I sometimes give it to charity, but when it comes to business, I am not charitable. I have made a satisfactory loan and I am not complaining. You may leave out the word benefactor, Baron. It doesn’t belong in the game.”
“As you please, sir,” said Romano coldly. “We were only intent upon conveying to you our desire to maintain friendly relations with you, Mr. Blithers, despite the unpleasant conditions that have arisen. I may at least question your right to assume that we are powerless to prevent a marriage that is manifestly unpopular with the subjects of Prince Robin.”
“I had it on excellent authority today that the people are not opposed to the union of my daughter and the prince,” said Mr. Blithers.
“I am compelled to say that you have been misinformed,” said the Baron, flatly.
“I think I have not been misinformed, however, concerning the personal views of Prince Robin. If I am not mistaken, he openly declares that he will marry to suit himself and not the people of Graustark. Isn’t it barely possible, my lords, that he may
have something to say about who he is to marry?”
“I confess that his attitude is all that you describe,” said the Baron. “He has announced his views quite plainly. We admit that he may have something to say about it.”
“Then I submit that it isn’t altogether an improbability that he may decide to marry according to the dictates of his heart and not for the sake of appearances,” said Mr. Blithers scathingly. “I have an idea that he will marry the girl he loves, no matter who she may be.”
Count Quinnox and Baron Gourou exchanged glances. These two men were guilty of having kept from their colleagues all information concerning a certain Miss Guile. They, as well as Dank, were bound by a promise exacted by their sovereign prince. They alone knew that Mr. Blithers was supported by an incontrovertible truth. For the present, their lips were sealed, and yet they faced that anxious group with a complete understanding of the situation. They knew that Mr. Blithers was right. Prince Robin would marry the girl that he loved, and no other. They knew that their prince expected to marry the daughter of the man who now faced these proud noblemen and virtually defied them!
“Am I not right, Count Quinnox?” demanded Mr. Blithers, turning suddenly upon the Minister of War. “You are in a position to know something about him. Am I not right?”
Every eye was on the Count. “Prince Robin will marry for love, my lords,” he said quietly, “I am forced to agree with Mr. Blithers.”
Baron Romano sank into his chair. There was silence in the room for many seconds.
“May I enquire, Count Quinnox, if you know anything of the present state of Prince Robin’s—er—heart?” inquired the Prime Minister finally.
A tinge of red appeared in each of Count Quinnox’s swarthy cheeks.
“I can only surmise,” said he briefly.
“Has—has he met some one in whom he feels a—er—an interest?”
“Yes.”
“May we have the benefit of your conclusions?” said Baron Romano, icily.
“I am not at liberty to supply information at present,” said the Count, visibly distressed.
Mr. Blithers leaned forward, his hands upon the table. “Some one he met after leaving New York?” he inquired eagerly.
“Time will reveal everything, Mr. Blithers,” said the Count, and closed his jaws resolutely. His colleagues looked at him in consternation. The worst, then, had happened!
A gleam of triumph shot into the eyes of Mr. Blithers. His heart swelled. He felt himself stepping out upon safe, solid ground after a period of floundering. The very best, then, had happened!
“My lords, I find that my half-hour is almost up,” he said, pulling out his gold watch and comparing its time with that of the clock on the wall. “Permit me to take my departure. I am content to let matters shape themselves as they may. Shakespeare says ‘there is a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them’—er—and so forth. Allow me, however, before leaving, to assure you of my most kindly interest in the welfare of your State. You may be pleased to know that it is not from me that Graustark—did I get it right that time?—will redeem her bonds when they mature, but from my only daughter. She is nearly twenty-one years of age. On her twenty-fifth birthday I shall present to her—as a gift—all of my holdings in Graustark. She may do as she sees fit with them. Permit me to wish you all good day, my lords. You may send the contract to my hotel, Baron. I expect to remain in the city for some time.”
As he traversed the vast halls on his way to the outer world, he was again overcome by the uneasy conviction that ironic eyes were looking out upon him from luxurious retreats. Again he felt that his coat fitted him too tightly and that his waistcoat was painfully in evidence. He hurried a bit. If he could have had his way about it, he would have run. Once outside the castle doors, he lighted a big cigar, and threw the burnt-out match upon the polished flagstones of the terrace. He regretted the act on the instant. He wished he had not thrown it there. If the solemn grooms had not been watching, he would have picked it up and stuck it into his pocket for disposal on the less hallowed stones of a city thoroughfare.
Outside the gates he felt more at ease, more at home, in fact. He smoked in great contentment. In the broad, shady avenue he took out his watch and pried open the case. A great pride filled his eyes as he looked upon the dainty miniature portrait of his daughter Maud. She was lovely—she was even lovelier than he had ever thought before.
At the Regengetz a telegram awaited him. It was from Maud.
“I shall be in Edelweiss this week without fail. I have something very important to tell you.” So it read.
CHAPTER XXIII
PINGARI’S
Nine o’clock of a rainy night, on the steep, winding road that climbed the mountain-side from the walled-in city to the crest on which stood the famed monastery of St. Valentine,—nine o’clock of a night fraught with pleasurable anticipation on the part of one R. Schmidt, whose eager progress up the slope was all too slow notwithstanding the encouragement offered by the conscienceless Jehu who frequently beat his poor steeds into a gallop over level stretches and never allowed them to pause on the cruel grades.
Late in the afternoon there had come to the general post-office a letter for Mr. R. Schmidt. He had told her that any message intended for him would reach his hands if directed to the post-office. Since his arrival in the city, three days before, he had purposely avoided the main streets and avenues of Edelweiss, venturing forth but seldom from the Castle grounds, and all because he knew that he could not go abroad during the day-time without forfeiting the privileges to be enjoyed in emulation of the good Caliphs of Baghdad. His people would betray their prince because they loved him: his passage through the streets could only be attended by respectful homage on the part of every man, woman and child in the place. If Bedelia were there, she could not help knowing who and what he was, with every one stupidly lifting his hat and bowing to him as he passed, and he did not want Bedelia to know the truth about him until she had answered an all-important question, as has been mentioned before on more than one occasion in the course of this simple tale.
Her letter was brief. She merely acquainted him with the fact that she had arrived in Edelweiss that day from Ganlook, twenty miles away, and was stopping at the Inn of the Stars outside the city gates and half way up the mountain-side, preferring the quiet, ancient tavern to the stately Regengetz for reasons of her own.
In closing she said that she would be delighted to see him when it was convenient for him to come to her. On receipt of this singularly matter-of-fact letter, he promptly despatched a message to Miss Guile, Inn of the Stars, saying that she might expect him at nine that night.
Fortunately for him, the night was wet and blustering. He donned a rain-coat, whose cape and collar served to cover the lower part of his face fairly well, and completed his disguise by pulling far down over his eyes the villainous broad-brimmed hat affected by the shepherds in the hills. He had a pair of dark eye-glasses in reserve for the crucial test that would come with his entrance to the Inn.
Stealing away from the Castle at night, he entered the ram-shackle cab that Hobbs had engaged for the expedition, and which awaited him not far from the private entrance to the Park. Warders at the gate looked askance as he passed them by, but not one presumed to question him. They winked slyly at each other, however, after he had disappeared in the shadows beyond the rays of the feeble lanterns that they carried. It was good to be young!
The driver of that rattling old vehicle was no other than the versatile Hobbs, who, it appears, had rented the outfit for a fixed sum, guaranteeing the owner against loss by theft, fire or dissolution. It is not even remotely probable that the owner would have covered the ground so quickly as Hobbs, and it is certain that the horses never suspected that they had it in them.
The mud-covered vehicle was nearing the Inn of the Stars when Robin stuck his head out of the window and directed Hobbs to drive slower.
“Very good, sir,” said Hobbs. “I thought as how
we might be late after losing time at the city gates, sir, wot with that silly guard and the—”
“We are in good time, Hobbs. Take it easy.”
The lights of the Inn were gleaming through the drizzle not more than a block away. Robin’s heart was thumping furiously. Little chills ran over him, delicious chills of excitement. His blood was hot and cold, his nerves were tingling. The adventure!
“Whoa!” said Hobbs suddenly. “’Ello, wot the ’ell is—”
A dark figure had sprung into the road-way near the horses’ heads, and was holding up a warning hand.
“Is this Mr. Schmidt’s carriage?” demanded a hoarse, suppressed voice.
“It is,” said Hobbs, “for the time being. Wot of it?”
Robin’s head came through the window.
“What do you want?”
“Some one is coming out here to meet you, sir. Do not drive up to the doors. Those are the orders. You are to wait here, if you please.”
Then the man shot away into the darkness, leaving the wayfarers mystified by his words and action.
“Wot am I to do, sir?” inquired Hobbs. “Most hextraordinary orders, and who the deuce is behind them, that’s wot I’d like to know.”
“We’ll wait here, Hobbs,” said Robin, and then put his hand suddenly to his heart. It was acting very queerly. For a moment he thought it was in danger of pounding its way out of his body!
Below him lay the lighted city, a great yellow cloud almost at his feet. Nearer, on the mountain-side were the misty lights in the windows of dwellers on the slope, and at points far apart the street lamps, dim splashes of light in the gloom. Far above were the almost obscured lights of St. Valentine, hanging in the sky. He thought of the monks up there. What a life! He would not be a monk, not he.
“My word!” exclaimed Hobbs, but instantly resumed his character as cabby.
A woman came swiftly out of the blackness and stopped beside the cab. She was swathed in a long gossamer, and hooded. The carriage lamps gleamed strong against the dripping coat.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 132