At five of that afternoon I was sitting in the farmer’s orchard with a pipe in my mouth.
The long grass was cool and fragrant, an aged apple-tree made me a rest for my back, and the murmur of bees about their business and the trickle of a neighbouring rill would have had me asleep in an instant, but for the rest I had taken an hour before.
Compared with these simple conditions, might, majesty and dominion seemed to me treacherous stuff, and God knows to what flights of philosophy I might not have soared, but I heard a rustle behind me and, before I could move, the Grand Duchess sat down by my side.
“I have been very obedient,” she said. “I slept until half past three.”
“I am very glad,” said I.
“I think you are a good doctor,” she said. “My nerve has come back.”
“You never lost it,” said I.
I saw her fine chin go up.
“I am not given to tears,” she said coldly.
“You have the greatest heart that I have ever known.”
“Because I don’t know when I’m beaten? Never mind. How did you bring Grieg down?”
“He tried to kill Hanbury,” I said. “And I threw him out of a box.”
She knitted her brows.
“A box?”
“At The Square of Carpet.”
Slowly she turned, to look me full in the eyes.
“How did you come to be there?”
“Grieg set a trap,” said I. “And Hanbury and I walked in.”
“And you swore that you would be careful. You—”
“It was a trap,” I protested. “I never dreamed—”
“You are down enough upon others who break their word.”
“I took every care,” I said. “For one thing I had no idea that The Square of Carpet was the kind of place that it is. And Hanbury will tell you that—”
“Tell me yourself what happened.”
Shortly I related our adventure, while she sat looking into the sunlit distance, with her knees drawn up a little and her delicate fingers laced about her slim legs.
When I had finished—
“You must leave Vigil,” she said. “You are not safe there. Grieg was an instrument, but Johann’s the power behind. And this morning you saw what he does to people who get in his way.”
“I think The Square of Carpet was Grieg’s own show.”
“Directly, perhaps. But you’ve twisted Johann’s tail.”
“I’m going to,” said I violently. “He’ll curse the day he burned Anger before I’m through.”
Her head was round in an instant and a finger up to her lip.
“That’s not like you,” she said. “When you talk like that you scare me. What have you got in your mind?”
“Nothing,” I cried bitterly. “And there’s the rub. I’m brainless, powerless, useless. And that’s why I’m safe.”
“But you said—”
“I know, I know. I can’t help it. You see, he’s burned down your home.”
I had spoken without thinking. But, if that is a fault, it is not always a misfortune, and I cannot forget the light that my childish avowal brought into her glorious eyes or the exquisite smile that came to rest on her mouth.
“You are very downright,” she said, looking away. “And you have been – very kind.”
“You know I have not.” I cried. “You know—”
“I know I am very grateful,” she said gently, “and—” I heard her catch her breath “—and very honoured.”
I got to my feet somehow and stepped to the brink of the brook. It was, I know, ungallant, but I could not sit still beside her, for the blood was surging in my temples and the flame of her charm and beauty had entered into my soul. I stood for a moment, watching the flow of the water and gripping the stem of a sapling till the bark broke under my hand. Then a great fear came upon me that she would go, and I turned and went back to where she sat in the grass.
“I won’t leave Vigil,” I said.
She looked up quickly.
“Once you said you would do whatever I asked.”
“Then do not ask me to go – Leonie.”
She put a hand to her head.
“Don’t make it more hard for me,” she said. “I came to you here in this orchard to send you away, to make you promise that tomorrow you would leave Vigil – and not come back. You say you’re useless. Just think of what you’ve done… Time after time you’ve ridden Johann off. Take only our presence here. I had to visit Anger – ça va sans dire. If you hadn’t brought me, I must have gone by train. From Vigil to Anger by train takes the whole of one day, I should have been out of Vigil not for one day, but for three – as Johann meant me to be. As it is, tomorrow morning I shall be back in my seat. Well, that won’t amuse Johann… Grieg probably said he’d fix you, and Johann believed he would: now Grieg’s on his back, and you’re going as strong as before.”
“What can he do?” said I.
“Make certain of you,” she cried, clapping her hands to her eyes. “Blot you out – as Grieg nearly did. Your Minister will make inquiries, but what of that? England won’t go to war because you are – not to be found. You’ve seen that the man is ruthless, and that is why you must go. If anything happened to you…”
“Answer me one thing,” said I. “Is this the only reason why you wish me to go?”
She drooped her head and nodded.
“Will you swear that, Leonie?”
“Yes” – in a very low voice.
“I will not go,” I said quietly.
Then—
“But I will disappear.”
For a moment she stared at me. Then I saw understanding lighten her eyes.
“You mean?”
“I will disappear,” said I. “So will George Hanbury. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It was the obvious line.”
“And the servants?”
“Will enter your service. To touch your chauffeurs is more than Johann will dare.”
“When you say ‘disappear’—”
“We shall appear to have gone. Our rooms will be empty, our luggage will in fact have gone. Witnesses will declare that we took the Salzburg express. They will be perfectly right. We shall take it openly, and Vigil will see us no more. Only the servants will know better: they will always be able to find us within the hour.”
The Grand Duchess looked at the heaven with shining eyes.
“You are very skilful,” she murmured. “It seems I am to have it both ways. Will you disappear tomorrow?”
“Yes, Leonie.”
With a sudden movement she put up her little hands.
“I am very happy,” she said, “to think that you will not be gone.”
I lifted her to her feet, and she slid an arm through mine and led me down to the brook.
“I watched you,” she said, “just now. I saw you look into the water. What did you see?”
“I saw your face, Leonie.”
Her arm slipped away, and the colour came into her cheeks.
With her eyes on the water, she spoke.
“Paul’s accession means everything to me.”
“I know that,” I said. “I will try to bring it about.”
She looked up quickly at that.
“Is it your way to be faithful to a dream?”
“I do not know,” I said slowly. “I have not dug so deep. It is my great pleasure to help you – to what you want.”
She drew in her breath a little, as though she would speak. Then she seemed to change her mind.
“I am sorry,” she said at length. “Today it is I who am tongue-tied. I have nothing to say.” She pushed back her hair from her temples. “Before we go back, will you drive me to a valley I know?”
“Yes.”
“There is an old house there, standing on the Anger estate. It was built for a hunting lodge. It’s in a bad way, I’m afraid: but they may be able to patch it, and you see I must have somewhere – I don’t care how
rough it is, but I must have a lodging of some sort to which I can always go.”
“I’m half a mason,” said I, “and I’ve seen worse joiners than George. We’ll set it to rights with pleasure, when – when Johann has lost his match.”
There was a little silence. Then—
“Tell me something you cannot do,” she said.
I took her hand and put it up to my lips.
“There is nothing I cannot do for you,” I said unsteadily. “I have never seen anyone like you in all my life.”
Her cool fingers closed upon mine, and I think it was that movement that sent the blood to my head.
What I said I do not remember, but I know that I begged her to let me take her forever out of the intrigue and violence which seemed to be her portion and away from the dreadful future which threatened her lovely life.
I am no maker of speeches, but a schoolboy must have been eloquent with such a theme. It was not my cause I was pleading so much as hers, and of my love I said little, except that I would worship her always and that she would be my great lady although she bore my name.
She heard me out in silence, with my hand held tight between hers and her eyes on the distant hills. And when I had done, she still stood, like some precious statue, but a little paler than usual and very grave.
The gate of the orchard creaked, and I loosed her hand.
Then Bell came down through the grass, with a telegram on a tray.
The Grand Duchess opened it slowly. When she had read it through, she gave it to me.
Grand Duchess Leonie Littai
Return
Marya.
“There’s no answer,” she said quietly, and Bell withdrew.
“This can mean but one thing,” she said. “Can we leave in a quarter of an hour?”
“Yes,” said I.
We turned away from the water and made our way to the gate.
As I held it open—
“I’m sorry I forgot myself,” I said.
I shall see the smile she gave me so long as I live.
“Oh, my dear,” she cried, “I’m so glad you did.”
We stopped at Bariche for petrol and reached the frontier just before ten o’clock.
We passed the Austrian sentries, and I drove the car over the bridge. When the Riechtenburg sentries opposed us, I beckoned and held out my pass, but, instead of moving to inspect it, they stood their ground, and one of them raised his voice and called the guard.
“It is her Highness,” I cried, and Bell alighted and took the pass out of my hand.
The guard came tumbling out, and Bell went up to the sergeant and showed the pass, but the latter shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the front of the car.
Here an officer appeared, hastily adjusting his chin-strap, paper in hand.
As he came alongside, the Grand Duchess lifted her voice.
“I am the Grand Duchess Leonie. What does this mean?”
The officer saluted elaborately, and the sergeant called the guard to attention; but the sentries stood where they were.
“Your Highness will forgive me,” said the officer, “but I have had definite orders not to admit this car.”
The Grand Duchess put out her hand.
“Let me see them.”
The officer saluted stiffly. Then he gave her his paper and saluted again.
It was a telegram.
Commanders of Frontier Posts
Rolls-Royce bearing number-plates AM 7789 and GB in no circumstances and no matter how exalted its occupant is this car to enter Riechtenburg
Fensyl.
“Who is Fensyl?” said my lady.
“Your Highness, that is the War Office department under whose orders we lie.”
“I will telephone,” said the Grand Duchess. “Please get me through.”
“I am desolated to inform your Highness that our telephone has not been working since five o’clock.”
The Grand Duchess sat very still.
“I have been summoned,” she said, “and I cannot wait. I will indemnify you.” She handed the telegram back. “Give me a sheet of paper and I will write you an order that overrules that.”
The other’s eyes bulged from his head.
“Madam, I d-dare not,” he stammered. “Your Highness will see from the order that it is specially framed to cover a – a possibility such as this.”
“You know who I am, and I tell you that I am in haste. Do you take the responsibility of stopping me?”
The unfortunate man’s face was shining with sweat.
“Madam,” he cried, “I am not stopping your Highness. Had I been so ordered, I would have resigned my command. It is only the car, madam. Your Highness is as free as—”
“How can I walk? It is eight miles from here to Lesson where I may or may not get a car. And your telephone is not working.”
“Madam, I am desolated, but I dare not let this car pass.”
There was a little silence.
I leaned towards the Grand Duchess and lowered my head.
“Shall I risk it?” I murmured. “For fear of hitting you, they’ll never dare shoot.”
I saw her measure the distance between a sentry and me.
Then—
“No,” she said.
Maybe she was right. The man had his bayonet fixed, and the car would have had to go slowly before it went fast.
“Shall I back,” said I, “to the other side of the bridge? Then I’ll put out the headlights and let her rip. They wouldn’t expect her back, and—”
“No,” said the Grand Duchess. “Nobody must be hurt. If you ran down a sentry, not even the Prince could save you from summary trial.” She turned to the officer. “You will report this matter, and so shall I. In detail, please.”
“Without fail, your Highness.”
“I shall have pleasure in saying that you did your unpleasant duty with resolution and tact, and, when I am no longer Grand Duchess, I shall make it my business to remember your name.”
The officer’s relief and delight were pitiful to see, and his voice trembled with feeling as he strove to avow a devotion which plainly spoke for itself.
The Grand Duchess smiled and nodded and turned to me.
“We must go back to Bariche,” she said. “Will you back the car?”
As I did so, Bell stepped aboard and the officer shouted an order and then saluted himself, standing with his hand to his helmet until we could see him no more.
So soon as we were clear of the frontier I brought the car to rest by the side of the road.
“We must try the next post,” said I, and picked up the map.
The Grand Duchess looked at me curiously: but, when I looked inquiringly back, she averted her eyes.
“To be stopped again,” she murmured.
“Not at all,” said I. “Now we know what to expect.”
She laid a hand on my arm.
“My dear,” she said, “don’t you see that this is a trap?”
“A trap?” said I.
“A trap. This is Johann’s doing – we both know that. He seeks to delay my return: but he knows that you are with me and he knows that the man that broke Grieg is not afraid of knocking a sentry down. And so he invites you to do it – in my behalf.” She drew in her breath. “You’d be arrested tomorrow and you’d lie in prison for years.”
For a moment I thought very fast. Then I returned to the map.
“The next post is by Cromlec,” I said. “Do you know that way?”
“Yes. It is in the mountains. There is no post upon the frontier itself. The Austrian guards are at Cromlec, a mile or so from the pass, and ours are at Vogue upon the opposite side.”
“What could be better?” said I. “When we come to the top of the pass we simply switch off the engine and put out the lights. With any luck we shall not be so much as heard.”
The Grand Duchess gazed through the windscreen, as though she had not heard what I said.
At length—
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br /> “It sounds very easy,” she said. “But I cannot remember Vogue, and in any event I have never been by there by night. I think the road will be lighted – in front of the guard-room, I mean.”
“We will stop before we come to the village, and I will walk on to see.”
Again she hesitated. Then she turned and looked at me.
“Very well,” she said.
Together we studied the map, to make sure of our way. The next minute we were heading for Cromlec as fast as we could.
It was about an hour later that we came to the top of the pass.
The night was lovely, but happily, very dark, and the air was cool but gentle, for all the winds were still.
The Austrian guards had not so much as stopped us, and, though I slowed down for their guard-room, a sentry who was eating an apple did nothing but nod his head. I call him a sentry because he was by the guard-room and was not asleep, but he had no rifle and was not wearing his tunic and he had the air of a man who is off duty and does not propose to be disturbed. This, no doubt, was because we were leaving his country, but such laxity gave me some hope that the watch which was kept at Vogue would be none too strict.
Thereafter, we had seen no one, and the liquid sound of a cow-bell, which now and then sweetened the night, was the only evidence that we had not the world to ourselves.
So, as I have said, we came to the top of the pass.
I brought the car to a standstill and put out her lights.
Now I dared not drive on until my eyes were something used to the darkness, for our headlights were very brilliant and had turned the night into day. I therefore left the car, to walk to the nearest bend and see, so far as I could, the course of the road beyond it and whether there were any places that called for particular care.
The Grand Duchess would have come with me, but I begged her to stay where she was and promised to return in a moment when I had seen what I could.
The petty reconnaissance proved extremely rich.
Hardly had I rounded the bend when the road became a mere shelf cut out of the mountainside. The brink was unfenced, and, when I had drawn very close, I saw, far away beneath me, a definite splash of light. This, of course, was coming from Vogue, or to make no bones about it, from the guard-room which we must pass: and I must confess that this danger signal shook me, for it seemed to me to argue an uncommon vigilance, and though I tried to remember that by night the flame of a candle may be seen a great way off, the light below me was by no means one point of radiance, but rather a flood of light shed, I was sure, by some lamp which I could not see.
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