Arms and the Woman Part 12

And to be honest, I am anxious to see the Count von Walden, who poses as the Princess's watchdog."

And when he came back and found me still sitting on the pallet, his face cleared.

We played for small sums, and the morning pa.s.sed away rather pleasantly than otherwise. The young officer explained to me that he held an important position at court, and that he was ent.i.tled to prefix Baron to his name.

"The King is getting out of all patience with her Highness," he said.

"This makes the second time the marriage has been postponed. Such occurrences are extremely annoying to his Majesty, who does not relish having his commands so flagrantly disregarded. I shouldn't be surprised if he forced her into the marriage."

"When he knows how distasteful this marriage is to her, why does he not let the matter go?"

"It is too late now. Royalty, having given its word, never retracts it. Events which the King wills must come to pa.s.s, or he loses a part of his royal dignity. And then, a King cannot very well be subservient to the will of a subject."

"But has she no rights as a petty sovereign?" I asked.

"Only those which the King is kind enough to give her. She is but a tenant: the rulers of Hohenphalia are but guests of his Majesty. It is to be regretted, but it cannot be helped."

That afternoon, as I lay on my pallet, it seemed to me that in some unaccountable way I was destined to become concerned in the affairs of her Serene Highness. I had never seen the woman, not even a picture of her. Certainly, she must be worth loving, inasmuch as she was worth trouble. I have always found it to be the troublesome woman who has the largest train of lovers. Troublesome, they are interesting; interesting, they are lovable.

It was more than a year since last I saw Phyllis; yet my love for her knew no diminution. I began to understand why Hillars traveled all over the Continent to get a glimpse of the woman he loved. With the pleasant thought that I should see Phyllis again, I dozed. I was half asleep when I was aroused by loud voices in the corridor.

"But I do not believe him to be the man," I heard my jailer declare.

"Bah! I know there is no mistake," roared a voice which was accustomed to command. "He's been trying to hoodwink you. Watch the surprise in his face when he sees me, the cursed meddler and scribbler. It would be a pleasure to witness his hanging. Come, show him to me."

"Yes; come along, my dear old warhorse," I murmured, turning my face toward the wall. "There is a nice little surprise party in here waiting for you."

The door opened.

"Unlocked!" bawled the Count. "What does this mean, Baron?"

"He gave his word as a gentleman," was the quiet reply.

"Gentleman? Ach! I'll take a look at the gentleman," said the Count, stepping up to the pallet and shaking me roughly by the shoulder.

"Wake up!"

I sat up so as not to miss the comedy which was about to set its scenes upon the grim visage of the Count. As his eyes met mine his jaw fell.

"A thousand devils! Who are you?"

"I couldn't swear," said I, meekly. "Everybody hereabouts insists that I am some one else. The situation warrants a complete explanation.

Perhaps you can give it?" I should have laughed but for those flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

"You are a blockhead," he said to his subaltern.

"He is the man, according to your London correspondent," responded the other with some show of temper. "I cannot see that the fault lies at my door. You told me that he would enter the country under an a.s.sumed name."

"I presume the affair is ended so far as I am concerned," I said, shaking the lameness from my legs.

"Of course, of course!" replied the Count, pulling at his gray mustaches, which flared out on either side like the whiskers of a cat.

"I should like to return to the city at once," I added.

"Certainly. I regret that you have been the victim of a blunder for which some one shall suffer. Your compatriot has caused me a deal of trouble."

"I a.s.sure you that he is in no wise connected with the present matter.

According to his latest advices he is at Vienna."

"I should be most happy to believe that," was the Count's rejoinder, which inferred that he didn't believe it.

"My friend seems to be a dangerous person?"

"All men of brains, coupled with impudence, are dangerous; and I give your friend credit for being as brave as he is impudent. But come, my carriage is at your service. You are a journalist, but you will promise not to make public this unfortunate mistake."

I acquiesced.

When the Count and I parted company I had not the vaguest idea that we should ever hold conversation again.

The result of the adventure was, I sent a very interesting story to New York, omitting my part in it. This done, I wired my a.s.sistant in London not to expect me for some time yet.

The truth was, I determined to hunt for Hillars, and incidentally for her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia.

CHAPTER VIII

As I came along the road, the dust of which had been laid that afternoon by an odorous summer rain, the princ.i.p.al thing which struck my eyes was the quaintness and unquestioned age of the old inn. It was a relic of the days when feudal lords still warred with one another, and the united kingdom was undreamt of. It looked to be 300 years old, and might have been more. From time to time it had undergone various repairs, as shown by the new stone and signs of modern masonry, the slate peeping out among the moss-covered tiles. It sat back from the highway, and was surrounded by thick rows of untrimmed hedges, and was partly concealed from view by oaks and chestnuts. The gardens were full of roses all in bloom, and their perfumes hung heavy on the moist air. And within a stone's throw of the rear the Danube noiselessly slid along its green banks. All I knew about the inn was that it had been by a whim of nature the birthplace of that beautiful, erratic and irresponsible young person, her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde. It was here I thought to find Hillars; though it was idle curiosity as much as anything which led me to the place.

The village was five miles below. I could see the turrets of the castle which belonged to the Princess. She was very wealthy, and owned as many as three strongholds in the petty princ.i.p.ality of Hohenphalia.

Capricious indeed must have been the woman who was ready to relinquish them for freedom.

The innkeeper was a pleasant, ruddy-cheeked old man, who had seen service. He greeted me with some surprise; tourists, he said, seldom made this forgotten, out-of-the-way village an objective point. I received a room which commanded a fine view of the river and a stretch of the broad highway. I was the only guest. This very loneliness pleased me. My travel-stained suit I exchanged for knickerbockers and a belted jacket. I went down to supper; it was a simple affair, and I was made to feel at home. From the dining-room I caught a momentary flash of white skirts in the barroom.

"Ah," I thought; "a barmaid. If she is pretty it will be a diversion."

In the course of my wanderings I had seen few barmaids worth looking at twice.

When the table was cleared I lit a cigar and strolled into the gardens.

The evening air was delicious with the smell of flowers, still wet with rain. The spirit of the breeze softly whispered among the branches above me. Far up in the darkening blues a hawk circled. The west was a thread of yellow flame; the moon rose over the hills in the east; Diana on the heels of Apollo! And the river! It was as though Nature had suddenly become lavish in her bounty and had sent a stream of melting silver trailing over all the land. There is nothing more beautiful to see than placid water as it reflects a summer's twilight.

The blue Danube! Who has heard that magic name without the remembrance of a face close to your own, an arm, bare, white, dazzling, resting and gleaming like marble on your broadcloth sleeve, and above all, the dreamy, swinging strains of Strauss? There was a face once which had rested near mine. Heigho! I lingered with my cigar and watched the night reveal itself. I lay at the foot of a tree, close to the water's edge, and surrendered to the dream-G.o.d. Some of my dreams knew the bitterness of regret. "Men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love." Yet, no man who has loved and lost can go through his allotted time without the consciousness that he has missed something, something which leaves each triumph empty and incomplete.

And then, right in the midst of my dreams, a small foot planted itself.

I turned my head and saw a woman. On seeing the bright end of my cigar, she stopped. She stood so that the light of the moon fell full upon her face.

My cigar trembled and fell.

"Phyllis!" I cried, springing to my feet, almost dumbfounded, my heart nigh suffocating me in its desire to leap forth. "Phyllis!--and here?

What does this mean?"