The Princess Virginia Part 2

"And so, altogether, my references being satisfactory, at a pinch I might do for the place," cut in Virginia, with the hot, impatient rebellion of her youth. "Oh, Mother, you think me mad or a fool, I know; and perhaps I am mad; yet not mad enough not to see that it would be a great thing, a wonderful thing to be asked in marriage by the One Man in my world, if--ah, that great 'if'--he had only seen and fallen in love with me. It might have happened, you know. As you say, I'm not ugly. And I can be rather pleasant if I choose--so I believe.

If he had only come to this land, to see what I was like, as Royal men did in the dear old fairy stories, and then had asked me to be his wife, why, I should have been conceited enough to think it was because he loved me, even more than because of other things. Then I should have been happy--yes, dear, I'll confess it to you now--almost happy enough to die of the great joy and triumph of it. But now I'm not happy. I will marry Leopold, or I'll marry no man. But I swear to you, I won't be married to Leopold in Count von Breitstein's hateful old, cold, cut-and-dried way."

"It's the Emperor's way as well as von Breitstein's."

"Then for once in his big, grand, obstinate life he'll have to learn that there's one insignificant girl who won't play Griselda, even for the sake of being his Empress."

The girl proclaimed this resolve, rising to her feet, with her head high, and a look in her gray eyes which told the Grand d.u.c.h.ess that it would be hopeless for her to argue down the resolution. At first it was a proud look, and a sad look; but suddenly a beam of light flashed into it, and began to sparkle and twinkle. Virginia smiled, and showed her dimples. Her color came and went. In a moment she was a different girl, and her mother, bewildered, fearful still, dared to hope something from the change.

"How odd you look!" she exclaimed. "You've thought of something. You are happy. You have the air of--of having found some plan."

"It found me, I think," the girl answered, laughing. "All suddenly--just in a flash. That's the way it must be with inspirations. This is one--I know it. It's all in the air--floating round me. But I shall grasp it soon."

She came close to her mother, still smiling, and knelt down in the gra.s.s at her feet, looking up with radiance in her eyes.

Luckily there was no one save the Dresden china lady and the birds and flowers to see how a young Princess threw her mantle of dignity away; for the two did not keep Royal state and a Royal retinue in the quaint old house at Hampton Court; and the big elm which Virginia loved, kindly hid the mother and daughter from intrusive eyes.

"You do love me, don't you, dearest?" cooed the Princess, softly as a dove.

"You know I do, my child, though I don't pretend to understand you,"

sighed the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, well aware that she was about to be coaxed into some scheme, feeling that she would yield, and praying Providence that the yielding might not lead her into tribulation.

"People grow dull if we understand them too well," said Virginia.

"It's like solving a puzzle. There's no more fun in it, when it's finished. But you wish me to be happy, darling?"

"More than I wish for anything else, excepting of course dear Dal's--"

"Dal is a man and can take care of himself. _I_ must do the best I can--poor me! And there's something I want so much, so much, it would be heaven on earth, all my own, if I could win it. Leopold's love, quite for myself, as a girl, not as a 'suitable Protestant Princess.'

For a few horrid minutes, I thought it was too late to hope for that, and I must give him up, because I never could be sure if I accepted him without his love, and he _said_ it had come afterwards, that it was really, really true. Anyway, it could never be the same; and I was miserable over what might have been. Then, suddenly, I saw how it still might be. I almost think I may be able to win his love, if you'll promise to help me, dear."

"Of course I will," said the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, carried out of her pretty little, conventional self into unwonted impulsiveness, by the warmth of kisses soft and sweet as the roses on Virginia's bosom.

"That is, I will if I can. But I don't at all see what I can do."

"I see. And what I want you to do, is to please, _please_ see with my eyes."

"They're very bright ones," smiled her mother.

Princess Virginia clasped the Grand d.u.c.h.ess round the waist so tightly that it hurt. Then she laughed, an odd, half-frightened, excited laugh. "Dearest, something perfectly wonderful is going to happen to you and me," she said. "The most wonderful thing that ever has happened. We are going to have a--great--adventure. And what the end of it will be--I don't know."

CHAPTER II

FOUR GENTLEMEN OF IMPORTANCE

Twilight fell late in the tiny Rhaetian village of Alleheiligen. So high on the mountain side were perched the simple inn and the group of brown chalets cl.u.s.tering round the big church with its bulbous, Oriental spire, that they caught the last red rays of sunset and held them flas.h.i.+ng on burnished copper roof plates, and jeweling small, bright window-panes long after the green valley below was curtained with shadow.

One September evening, two dusty traveling carriages toiled up the steep, winding road that led to the highest hamlet of the Rhaetian Alps, and a girl walking beside the foremost driver (minded, as he was, to save the jaded horses) looked up to see Alleheiligen glittering like a necklet of gems on the brown throat of the mountain.

Each window was a great, separate ruby set in gold; the copper bulb that crowned the church steeple was a burning carbuncle; while above the flas.h.i.+ng band of gorgeous color, the mountain reared its head, facing westward, its steadfast features carved in stone, the brow snow-capped and rosy where the sun touched it, blue where the shadows lay.

The driver a.s.sured the young English lady, whom he much admired for her pluck as well as beauty, that she had far better return to the carriage; that indeed, she need not have left it. Her extra weight would be but as that of a feather to the horses, which were used to carrying far heavier loads than that of to-day, up the steep mountain road to Alleheiligen in the "high" season of July and August, when many tourists from all countries came to rest for a night and see the wonderful view. He even grew voluble in his persuasions, but the girl still smilingly insisted that she liked walking, and the brown-faced fellow with the soft green hat and curly c.o.c.k feather admired her the more for her firmness and endurance.

She was plainly dressed in gray, which did not show the dust, and though her skirt and short jacket were well made, and her neat little hat jaunty and becoming--almost dangerously becoming--she was not half as grand in appearance as some of the ladies who drove up with him in July and August. Still, the man said to himself, there was an air about her--no, he could not describe it even to himself--but it meant distinction. And then, as she was English, it was as pleasing as it was remarkable that she could speak Rhaetian so prettily. She had learned it, she said when he respectfully ventured a question, because, since she was a child, she had taken an interest in Rhaetian history and literature. And this seemed strange to him, that so dainty a lady should have learned such a language for pleasure, because the people of most countries found it excessively difficult--as difficult as Hungarian and just enough like German to make it even more difficult, perhaps. But this English girl said she had picked it up easily; and the young man's heart warmed to her when she praised Rhaetian music and Rhaetian poetry.

This was the last touch; this won him wholly; and without stopping further to a.n.a.lyze or account for his admiration, the driver of the first carriage found himself bestowing confidences upon his gracious companion as they slowly tramped up the winding road, the reins looped over his arm.

He told her of his life; how he had not always lived down there in the valley and driven tourists for a living. Before he fell in love and married a valley girl, and had a young family to rear, his house had been aloft, in Alleheiligen. He was born on the mountain side; his mother still lived in the village. It was she who kept the inn. Ach, but a good woman, and a cook to the king's taste--or rather, the Emperor's taste--if it was her own son who said it.

He was glad that the English ladies would be stopping with her for a few days at this season. She would make them comfortable, more comfortable than would be possible at a crowded time, and then, besides, after the season was over, and the strangers had been frightened away by the first flurry of snow, the poor mother grew lonely and tired of idleness. Oh yes, she stayed the winter through.

It was home to her. There were not many neighbors, then, it was true, yet she would not be happy to go away. Mountain folk never really learned to love the valleys.

What, the ladies had not written to the inn in advance? Ah, well, that would not matter at this season. There would be rooms, and to spare; the ladies could take their choice; and the mother would have a pleasant surprise. Glad he was that he chanced to be the one to bring it.

Those who knew Frau Yorvan, know that her larder was never empty of good things, and that her linen was aired and scented with the dried lavender blossoms gathered down below. Indeed, she had need to be ever in readiness for distinguished guests, because sometimes--but the eloquent tongue of Alois Yorvan was suddenly silent, like the clapper of a church bell which the ringers have ceased to pull, and his sunburnt face grew sheepish.

"Because sometimes?" echoed the girl, in her pretty Rhaetian. "What happens sometimes, that your mother must ever be expecting?"

"Oh," the man stammered a little foolishly, "I was but going to say that she has sometimes to entertain people of the high n.o.bility, of different nations. Alleheiligen, though small, is rather celebrated, you know."

"Has your Emperor been here?" asked the young lady.

"It may be," answered Alois, jauntily. "It may be. Our Emperor has been to most places."

His companion smiled and put no more questions.

Slowly they climbed on; the two carriages, containing the English girl's mother, a middle-aged companion, a French maid, and a reasonable supply of luggage, toiling up behind, the harness jingling with a faint sound as of fairy bells.

Then at last they came to the inn, a quaint house, half of stone, half of rich brown s.h.i.+ngles; a huge picture, crowded with saints of special importance to Alleheiligen, painted in once crude, now faded colors, on a swinging sign. A characteristic, yodeling cry from Alois, sent forth before the highest turn of the road was reached, brought an apple-cheeked and white-capped old woman to the door; then it was the youngest of the travelers who asked, with a pleasant greeting in Rhaetian, for the best suite of rooms which Frau Yorvan could give.

But to the girl's astonishment the landlady showed none of the delight her son had predicted. Surprised she certainly was, even startled, and certainly embarra.s.sed. For an instant she seemed to hesitate before replying, then her emotion was partly explained by her words.

Unfortunately her best rooms were engaged; four of the bedrooms with the choicest view, and the one private sitting-room the inn possessed.

But if the ladies would put up with the second best, she would gladly accommodate them. Was it but for the night? Oh, for several days!

(Again the apple face looked dubious.) Well, if the ladies would graciously enter, and choose from what she had to offer, she would be honored.

They did enter and presently wrote their names as Lady Mowbray, Miss Mowbray, Miss Manchester, and maid. An hour later when the new-comers, mother, daughter and _dame de compagnie_, sat down to a hot supper in a bed-chamber hastily but skilfully transformed into a private dining-room, the youngest of the three remarked to Frau Yorvan upon the peaceful stillness of her house.

"One would think there wasn't a soul about the place except ourselves," said she, "yet you've told us you have other guests."

"The gentlemen who are stopping here are away all day long in the mountains," explained Frau Yorvan. "It is now the time for chamois hunting and it is for that, and also the climbing of a strange group of rocks called the Bunch of Needles, only to be done by great experts, that they come to me."

"They are out late this evening. Aren't you beginning to be a little anxious about them, if they go to such dangerous places?"

"Oh, to-night, gracious Fraulein, they will not return at all," said the landlady, warming impulsively to the subject. "They often stop at a kind of hut they have near the top of the mountain, to begin some climb they may wish to undertake very early. They are much closer to it there, you see, and it saves their wasting several hours on the way. They are constantly in the habit of stopping at the hut, in fine weather; but they are very considerate; they always let me know their plans beforehand."

"If they're away so much, I think it a little selfish in them to keep your one private sitting-room, when you might need it for others,"

remarked the girl.