CHAPTER V
FELIX SURMOUNTS A DIFFICULTY
Count Julius Marulitch and his friend Constantine Beliani, the onesavagely impatient, the other moody and preoccupied, sprawled listlesslyin Marulitch's flat in the Avenue Victor Hugo, and, though it wasevening, each was reading "The Matin." That is to say, each waspretending to read; but their thoughts did not follow the printed words.Alexis III. had reigned only ten days, yet the most enterprising of theParis newspapers was already making a feature of a column headed: "Ourdear Alec, day by day." It ought to be an interesting record to thesetwo men, yet it evidently was not one-tenth so humorous as "The Matin"believed, since there was a deep frown on both faces.
At last Marulitch flung the paper aside with an angry snarl.
"Ah, bah!" he growled. "May the devil fly away with our dear Alec andhis doings day by day! A nice pair of fools we made of ourselves when wepitchforked him into power!"
"Patience, my friend, patience!" said the Greek. "Everything comes tohim who waits, and Alec will fall far when his luck changes. It may beto-morrow, or next week; but he must experience a reverse. He is like agambler at Monte Carlo who stakes maximums just because the table isrunning favorably."
"Fish!" snorted Marulitch. "What else would a gambler do?"
"What indeed?" agreed Beliani, though a far less alert intelligence thanMarulitch's might have known that he was annoyed. The pink and whiteJulius, whom his friends had nicknamed "le beau Comte," did not fail tocatch the contemptuous note of that purred answer; he sprang up from hischair, ransacked a cupboard, and threw on the table a box of thosepriceless cigarettes, the produce of a single southwesterly hillside atSalonica, that are manufactured solely for the Sultan of Turkey.
"There, smoke, my Constantine," he laughed harshly. "Why should wequarrel? We were idiots. Let us, then, admit it."
"Were we?"
"Can you deny it? We arranged the first move beautifully. With Theodoreout of the way----"
The Greek turned his head swiftly and looked at the door. Marulitchlowered his voice.
"No need to refer to Theodore, you will say? How can one avoid it? Hisdeath was the cornerstone of the edifice. If only that senile uncle ofmine had become King the path would be clear for the final coup beforethe year was out. And now where are we? What purpose do we serve by selfdelusion? Each day's newspaper bears witness to our folly. Alec carriesthe Assembly by storm; Alec captures a would-be assassin; Alec floutsAustria; Alec disbands the Seventh Regiment and hands its officers tothe police; Alec attends the funeral of Theodore and Helena, and takesover their servants and debts; Alec tells the Sultan that he exists inEurope only on sufferance; Alec draws a map of Kosnovia and decorates itwith railways; Alec bathes in the Danube at six, breakfasts at seven,attends a christening at eight, a wedding at nine, a review at ten, amemorial service in the cathedral at eleven, lunches at twelve, receivesprovincial deputations at one, inaugurates the Delgratz Polo Club at twoand the Danubian Rowing Club at three,--Alec round the clock, and allEurope agape to know what next he will be up to--and you and I here,unknown, unrecorded,--you and I, the brains, the eyes, the organizers ofthe whole affair! Oh, it makes me sick when I remember how I stood likea stuck pig in old Delgrado's flat and let the son jump in and snatchfrom the father's hands the scepter I had purchased so dearly!"
The Greek rose languidly, strolled to the door, and threw it open. Apage boy was in the lobby, and it was easy to see by his innocent facethat his presence there was inspired by no more sinister motive than todeliver a newspaper.
Beliani took it, closed the door, listened a moment, and unfolded thedamp sheet. He glanced at its foreign news.
"'Le Soir' gives prominence to a rumor that King Alexis will marry aMontenegrin Princess," he murmured composedly.
"Mirabel, of course?"
"She is unnamed."
"That's it. I know, I know! He will marry Mirabel. By Heaven! if hedoes, I'll shoot him myself!"
"The trial of the regicides is fixed for June," went on Beliani, whollyunmoved by Marulitch's vehemence. "Now, the vital question is, How farcan Stampoff be relied on?"
"How does our reliance on Stampoff concern Mirabel?"
"I am not thinking of Mirabel, but of Julius and Constantine. IfStampoff tells our young Bayard everything, Delgratz is no place for youand me, my veteran."
Marulitch, though trembling with passion, could not fail to see that theGreek was remarkably nonchalant for one who had witnessed the uttercollapse of ten years of work and expenditure.
"Are we going there?" he managed to ask without a curse.
"Soon, quite soon, provided Stampoff keeps a still tongue."
"But why? To grace the coronation by our presence?"
"It may be. Remember, if you please, that we are Alec's best friends. Wegave him his chance. I offered to finance him; did finance Stampoff infact. We are unknown personally to the officers of the Seventh. That waswise, Julius, far-seeing, on my part. Oh, yes, we must go to Delgratz.Delgratz is the nerve center now."
"You are keeping something from me."
"On my honor, no. But you sneered at my parable of the successfulgambler, whereas I believe in it implicitly. I have seen that type offool backing the red, staking his six thousand francs on every coup, andhave watched a run of twelve, thirteen, seventeen, twenty-one; but thesmash came at last."
"What matter? A man who wins twenty times can well afford to lose once."
"I said a gambler, not a financier," smiled Beliani. "But let it pass. Ithought you told me there was a girl here in Paris----"
"So there is, a beauty too; but Alec has meanwhile become a King."
"A somewhat peculiar King. He has borrowed his regal notions fromAmerica rather than Kosnovia, Julius. He would laugh at any claim ofdivine right. One of these days you will find him chaffing theHohenzollerns, and that is dangerous jesting in the Balkans. If he lovesa girl in Paris, he will not marry your Mirabel. I fancy I have takenhis measure. If I am right, he is far too honest to occupy the throne ofKosnovia."
"_Grand Dieu!_ the country is pining for honest government. Even youwill grant that."
"Even I, as you say; but I should be wrong. If I have an ax to grind, sohas the other fellow. Kosnovia is in the East, and the East lovesdeceit. Alec has dazzled the people for a few days. Wait till he beginsto sweep the bureaus free of well paid sinecurists. Wait till he findsout how the money is spent that the Assembly votes for railways,education, forestry, and the like. Wait till he reduces the staff of thearmy and the secretaries. I know Delgratz and Kosnovia, and he does not.He will win the people, it is true; but he will alienate the men who cantwist the people this way and that to suit their own purposes. Before amonth is out he will be wrangling with the Assembly. See if I am not aprophet. Oh, yes, Julius, you and I must go to Delgratz. No hurry; slowbut sure. I'll break the journey at Vienna. We must sound Stampoff too.But before I go, I should like to be sure that the girl has gone there."
"The artist girl to Delgratz!"
Julius was bitter and skeptical; but he reposed such confidence inBeliani's judgment that he choked his doubts. "Yes. Can it be managed?"
Le beau Comte leered, and the satyr grin was highly expressive. Itseemed to show the man's real nature. In repose his face was insipid;now for an instant he resembled the god Pan.
"You called Alec a Bayard just now. Not a bad title for him. He has thatkind of repute among his friends. Perhaps the girl is built on the samelines, and we don't want to send a pretty saint to Delgratz merely toinspire him to fresh efforts."
The Greek inhaled a deep breath of the aromatic smoke. "You'll be anaverage sort of King, Julius; but you are not a philosopher," said hethoughtfully. "I tell you we are safer than ever if we can bring him andthe girl together. He will marry her, you short sighted one--marry her,and thus alienate every Slav in the Balkans. I have turned this thing inmy mind constantly since I recovered from the first shock of hisachievement, and I am fairly certain of my ground. Mark you, PrincessMirabel
of Montenegro will be reported to-morrow as out of the running.If that is so, you will begin to believe me and stop clawing your hairand injuring your fine complexion by scowling."
Next morning's "Matin" announced that King Alexis was greatly annoyed bythe mischievous and utterly unfounded canard that bracketed his namewith that of a woman he had never seen. Count Julius read, and made ahasty toilet. Beliani and he had laid their plans overnight, and he lostno time in opening the new campaign.
It was a difficult and delicate task he had undertaken. Paris, big inmany respects, is small in its society, which, because of its wellmarked limits, makes a noise in the world quite incommensurate with itsimportance; whereas London, close neighbor and rival, contains a dozendefinite circles that seldom overlap. The woman Julius had seen withAlec in the Louvre was not on Princess Michael's visiting list, of thathe had no manner of doubt. Therefore, from his point of view, the onlypossible solution of their apparent friendship would prove to besomething underhanded and clandestine, an affair of secret meetings, andletters signed in initials, and a tacit agreement to move unhindered indifferent orbits.
Being of the nature of dogs and aboriginal trackers, Marulitch madestraight for the Louvre. There he had quitted the trail, and there musthe pick it up again. But the hunt demanded the utmost wariness. If hestartled the quarry, he might fail at the outset, and, supposing histalking was successful, both he and Beliani must still beware of aKing's vengeance if their project miscarried.
Neither man had the slightest belief in Alec's innate nobility ofcharacter. Beliani likened him to Bayard, it is true, and Marulitch hadscoffingly adopted the simile; but that was because each thought Bayardnot admirable, but a fool. The somber history of the Kosnovian monarchy,a record of crass stupidity made lurid at times by a lightning gleam ofpassion, justified the belief that Alexis would follow the path that ledTheodore, and Ferdinand, and Ivan, and Milosch to their ruin. Each ofthese rulers began to reign under favorable auspices, yet each succumbedto the siren's spell, and there was no reason at all, according to suchreckoning, why the handsome and impulsive Alexis should escape. That apretty Parisienne who was also an artist should fail to offer herself asa willing bait did not enter at all into the calculation.
"Be suave, spend money, and keep in the background," said the Greek.
Julius entered the Grande Galerie prepared to apply these instructionsthrough the medium of his own subtle wit. At the outset, luck favoredhim. Somehow, it is always easier to do evil than good, and thelongevity of evil is notorious, whereas the short lived existence ofgood would horrify an insurance agent.
Joan was not present; but Felix Poluski was preparing a canvas for histwenty-seventh copy of the famous Murillo. Two of his "ImmaculateConceptions" were in private collections; one had been sold to a SouthAmerican millionaire as the Spanish artist's own duplicate of thepicture, though Poluski was unaware of the fraud; and twenty-threeadorned the high altars of various continental churches, where theyedified multitudes happily ignorant of the irreverent conditions underwhich the cheery souled anarchist hunchback droned his snatches of songand extracted from a few tubes of paint some glimpse of heaven, and raysof sunlight, and hints of divine love and divine maternity.
The crooked little Pole's genius and character were alike unknown toCount Julius. He saw only a quaintly artistic personage who mightpossibly be acquainted with such a remarkable looking habitue of thegallery as Joan. Instead, therefore, of appealing to one of theofficials, he approached Poluski, and the two exchanged greetings withthe politeness that Paris quickly teaches to those who dwell within hergates.
"You work in this gallery most days, monsieur?" said Julius.
"But yes, monsieur," said Felix.
"About a fortnight ago, monsieur," explained Marulitch, "I happened tobe here at this hour, and I noticed a young lady copying one of thepictures on the opposite wall. Can you tell me who she was?"
"Can you tell me which picture she was copying?" said Poluski.
"I am not sure; this one, I think," and Julius pointed to "The FortuneTeller."
"Ah! Describe her, monsieur."
"She was tall, elegant, charming in manner and appearance."
Poluski appeared to reflect. "The vision sounds entrancing, monsieur,"he said; "but that sort of girl doesn't usually earn her crusts bydaubing canvas in the Louvre at so much a square foot."
"Yet I saw her, without a doubt. She was not alone that morning. Infact, a friend of mine was with her."
Poluski turned to his easel. He was in no mind to discuss Joan with thisinquiring dandy.
"That simplifies your search, monsieur," said he carelessly. "All thatis necessary is to go to your friend."
"I cannot. He is not in Paris."
"Where is he?"
"Far enough away to render it impossible that he should solve my dilemmato-day. And the thing is urgent. I have a commission to offer, a goodone. If you help, you will be doing the young lady a turn--and yourself,too, perhaps."
"Kindly explain, monsieur."
"I mean that I will gladly pay for any information."
"How much? Five, ten francs, a louis?"
The Pole's sarcasm was not to be mistaken. Julius was warned and drewback hurriedly.
"I really beg your pardon," he said; "but I am so anxious to carry outmy undertaking that I have expressed myself awkwardly, and I see nowthat you are misinterpreting my motives. Let me speak quite candidly. Ihave no desire to meet the lady in person. An art connoisseur, whoadmires her work, wishes to send her to a cathedral in a distant city tocopy a painting. He will pay well. He offers traveling expenses, hotelbill, and five thousand francs. The picture is not a large one, and thework easy, a Byzantine study of Saint Peter, I believe. If you tell me,monsieur, that you can arrange the matter, I shall be pleased to leaveit entirely in your hands."
"Since when did Alec become a connoisseur?" demanded Poluski, grinning.
Marulitch was startled; but he smiled with a ready self possession thatdid him credit. "It was in Monsieur Delgrado's company I saw the fairunknown," he admitted; "but this affair does not rest with him. It isgenuine, absolutely."
"Nevertheless, this Byzantine Saint Peter hangs in Delgratz, I suppose?"
"I--I think so."
"Five thousand francs, you said, and expenses. Not bad. I'm a prettygood hand myself. Will I do?"
The Pole was enjoying the stupid little plot; for it could wear no otherguise to him, and Count Julius was mortified by the knowledge that hehad blundered egregiously at the first step in the negotiation. Whatwould Beliani say? This wizened elf of a man had seen clear throughtheir precious scheme in an instant, and, worst of all, it had notadvanced an inch. Julius made a virtue of necessity, and placed all hiscards on the table.
"I want you to credit my statements," he said emphatically. "Thisproposal is quite straightforward. My principal is prepared to pay halfthe money down before the lady leaves Paris, and the balance when thepicture is delivered. Further, he will bear the expenses of any one whoaccompanies her,--a relative, or a friend, such as yourself, forinstance. I don't figure in the matter at all. I am a mere go-between,and if you think otherwise you are utterly mistaken."
Felix began to whistle softly between his teeth, and the action annoyedJulius so greatly that he decided to try a new line.
"I seem to have amused you by my sincerity, monsieur!" he snapped. "Prayforget that I have troubled you----"
"But why, my paragon? _Que diable!_ one does not spurn five thousandfrancs like that! I hum or whistle when I am thinking, and just now I amwondering how this business can be arranged. Who is your client?"
"Who is yours?" retorted Julius.
"She exists, at any rate."
"So does the other."
"Well, then, let us meet to-morrow----"
"But time is all important."
"There can't be such a mortal hurry, seeing that Saint Peter has hung solong undisturbed in Delgratz," said Felix dryly. "Moreover, it willclear the air
if I tell you that the lady is not in Paris, so I cannotpossibly give you her answer before to-morrow morning."
"How can I be sure that she is the person actually intended for thiscommission?"
"There won't be the least doubt about it when King Alexis III. sets eyeson her."
Julius was certainly not himself that day. His pink face grew crimsonwith amazement. "If you tell her that you will defeat my friend's objectin sending her to Delgratz!" he blurted out.
"Eh, what are you saying? What, then, becomes of that poor Saint Peter?"
"Exactly. She is going there to copy it, not to philander with Alec."
Poluski screwed his eyes up until he was peering at Julius's excitedfeatures as if endeavoring to catch some transient color effect."Frankly, you puzzle me," he said after a pause; "but come againto-morrow. And no tricks, no spying or that sort of thing! I am thewrong man for it. If you doubt me, ask some one who has heard of FelixPoluski. You see, Count Julius Marulitch, I am far more open than you. Iknew you all the time, and as to your motives, I can guess a good dealthat I don't actually know. Still, there is nothing positively dishonestabout a Byzantine Saint Peter. It is not art, but five thousand francssounds like business. Half the cash down, you said; anything by way ofpreliminary expenses?"
"Meaning?"
"Say, one per cent., fifty francs. Otherwise, I must paint all day andtrust to the post--the least eloquent of ambassadors."
"Oh, as to that," and Julius produced a hundred-franc note from hispocketbook.
The Pole accepted it gravely. "I go instantly, monsieur," he said. Hebegan to fold his easel and put away his brushes and colors. Once heglanced up at the rapt Madonna.
"_Au 'voir, ma belle_," he murmured. "This affair of Saint Peter mustbe arranged. It presses. They change Kings speedily in Delgratznowadays, and their taste in saints may follow suit. But, courage! Ishall return, and who knows what will come of this excursion into theforgotten realm of Byzantium?"
Count Marulitch, of course, had not counted on one who was a completestranger not only recognizing him but stripping the pretense sothoroughly of the artistic commission offered to Alec's fair companionof that memorable morning. He must put the best face on his blunder whendiscussing it with Beliani, and he promised himself a quite definiteunderstanding with Poluski ere another sou left his pocket.
Meanwhile, who was Poluski? That question, at least, could be answeredeasily. One clue might lead to another. To-morrow, when they met, itmight be his turn to astonish the warped little Pole.
Felix, feeling that he had spoiled the Egyptians excellently well,hobbled off to his favorite cafe. Early as the hour was, various cronieswere there already, sipping their morning refreshments; but he passedthem with a nod and made for the fat proprietress throned behind a highdesk. When she caught sight of him, a certain air of firmness seemed tostruggle with sympathy for possession of her bulging features, and shehastily thumbed a small account book taken from beneath a pile ofwaiter's dockets.
"How much, madame?" asked Felix, who had missed none of this.
"Twenty-seven seventy-five," she said severely.
"Can one make it thirty, _mignonne_?"
"Thirty! Tell me, then, how market bills are to be met when one is owedthese thirties?"
"Dear angel, Providence has decided that you shall deal with suchproblems."
"Well, well, no more, not a centime beyond the thirty!"
"Monstrous, yet all heart!" murmured Felix. He struck an attitude, andsang with exquisite feeling the opening bars of the Jewel Song from"Faust." As applied to the earthly tabernacle of madame's generous soul,the effect of that impassioned address was ludicrous. But Felix reckedlittle of that. He threw the hundred-franc note on the counter.
"There, _ma petite_, be rewarded for your trust," he cried. "Now give methe railway timetable; for I have far to go ere I return, when you and Ishall crack a bottle of Clos Vosgeot with our dinner."
Madame, who had not betrayed the least embarrassment when she and hercafe were apostrophized in Gounod's impassioned strains, was utterlybewildered by Poluski's wealth. Not once in many years had he owned somuch at one time, since he always drew small sums on account of hispictures and kept himself going hand-to-mouth fashion. But here wasFelix intent on the timetable and sweeping seventy-two francstwenty-five centimes of change into his pocket without troubling tocount a coin.
"You have found a mad Englishman, I suppose?" tittered madame.
"Better, far better, _ma cherie_; I have met a man who would be a King!"He hurried out, climbed into a passing omnibus, and descended at theGare de Lyon.
Joan was just leaving the pretty hotel at Barbizon, meaning to put insome hours of work after a distracted morning, when Felix emerged fromthe interior of a ramshackle cab that had carried him from Melun to theedge of the forest. Now, a cab drive of several miles, plus a journeyfrom Paris, was a sufficiently rare event in Poluski's life to make Joanstare. His unexpected appearance chimed so oddly with her own disturbedthoughts that she paled.
"Felix," she cried, "have you brought ill news?"
"Of whom, _chere mademoiselle_?" he demanded.
"Of--of any one?"
"Alec still reigns, if that is what you mean."
"But he has sent you?"
"What, do I look like an envoy?" He laughed. "Well, well, _ma belle_,there is some truth in that. I come in behalf of one before whom evenKings must bow; I represent Saint Peter! But even an apostolicdynamitard must eat. I am starving, having sacrificed my luncheon to mylove of you. Commend me, then, to some deft handed waiter, and lethunger and curiosity be sated at the same time."
Joan knew that Poluski would choose his own way of explaining hispresence. The hour for luncheon was long past; but she hurried to theempty dining room and was able to secure some soup and a cold chicken.Felix eyed the bird distrustfully.
"Although I am here in behalf of Saint Peter, there is no sense inasking me to chew the wretched fowl that proclaimed his downfall," hemuttered.
"Oh, Felix dear, please do tell me what has happened!" said Joan,clasping her hands in real distress. "I received a letter from Alec thismorning. It was sent to me from my lodgings, and, what between that andthe extraordinary things in the newspapers, I think I am bewitched. NowI am sure that you too have heard from him. Is it a telegram?"
"Yes," he said, "a message sent without wires; it came by one of thoseunderground currents that convulse an unconscious world, sometimesagonizing mountains, at others perplexing a simple maid like yourself.You see, Joan, all things conspire to draw you to Delgratz."
"I am not going!" she vowed, thereby giving Poluski the exactinformation he needed; for his nimble brain was beginning to see theconnection between Alec's letter and Count Julius Marulitch's intensedesire to avail himself of Joan's skill as a copyist.
"You are, my dear," he said, dropping his bantering tone and looking herstraight in the eyes.
"How can such an absurdity be dreamed of?" she demanded breathlessly.
"Because it is a dream that will come true. Listen, now, and don't beafraid, for these gray old trees of Barbizon have heard madderwhisperings than that you should become a Queen. It is in the naturalorder of things that I, who gave my best years to devising the ruin ofKings, should be chosen in my dotage to help in fixing a King firmly onhis throne. It is some sport of the gods, I suppose, a superhuman jest,perhaps the touch of farce that makes tragedy more vivid, since eventhat colossal Shakespeare of yours thought fit to lighten Hamlet byintroducing a comic gravedigger. Be that as it may, Joan, you are Alec'sQueen, and, as he cannot come for you it follows that you must go tohim. Shall I tell you why? You are necessary to him. It is decreed, andyou cannot shirk your lot. He knows it, and he has written to bid youcome. His enemies know it; but there is a kind of knowledge that leadsits votaries blindfold to the pit, and Alec's enemies are blindlyplotting now to send you to Delgratz and thus compass his ruin."
"Felix! What are you saying?"
"The truth, the s
imple truth. Not a whiff of metaphor or extravaganceabout that statement, Joan. This morning a man came to me in the Louvre.He was seeking you. He wants to pay you five thousand francs for a copyof some blazoned daub that hangs in the cathedral at Delgratz. He willpay double, four times, the money if only you will consent to go there.Why? Because he believes that Alec is infatuated about you, and thatthe mere hint of marriage with one who is not a Slav princess willshatter the throne of Kosnovia about the ears of its present occupant.My anxious visitor is mistaken, of course. He is trying to do good thatevil may come of it; but while there is justice in Heaven any suchperversion of an eternal principle is foredoomed to failure.
"But just think of that man coming to me, Felix Poluski, who has an earfor every sob that rises from the unhappy people who dwell in theborderland between Teuton and Tartar! Isn't that the cream of comedy?When I make everything clear to you, when I show you how and by whom thekilling of Theodore and his wife was engineered, you will begin tounderstand the fantastic trick that Fate played when she sent heremissary to the hunchback artist in the Louvre. But it is a long story,and it will beguile the journey across Austria, while there are manythings you must attend to ere you leave Paris in the Orient Expressto-morrow night."
"Felix, it is impossible!"
"Ah! Then you don't love our Alec."
"I--I have not heard a word from his lips--well, hardly a syllable----"
"Not in the letter?"
"That is different. Felix, I can trust you. Perhaps, under otherconditions, I might marry Alec; but now I cannot."
"Why?"
"Because he is a King."
"The best of reasons, if he was bred in a palace. But he has lived longenough to become a man first. Frankly, Joan, I like Alec, and I think heought to be given a chance. At any rate, I don't see why you are afraidof him."
"I am not. Indeed, I am not!" Joan's voice was tremulous. She was on theverge of tears; for the little Pole's persistence was breaking down thebarrier that she had striven to erect against her lover's pleading. Alechad not said much in his letter; but what he did say was wholly to thepoint.
"Come to me, Joan," he wrote. "Don't wait. Don't stop and worry aboutwhat the world will say, since it will surely be something bitter anduntrue. The people here are all right, and I think they are beginning tolike me; but I can see quite plainly that they will not be content untilI am married, and hints are being thrown out already that there areseveral eligible young ladies in neighboring States. But if theseKosnovians take me they must take you too, and it will be far easier forme when they have seen you.
"Now, no hesitation, no doubts, no weighing of pros and cons. Just setyour teeth and toss your head up, and tell Pauline to sling yourbelongings into your boxes, and before you start send me one word in atelegram. I am horribly busy, of course (for details see daily papers),and this must be the most extraordinary love letter ever written; butwhat does that matter when you and I understand each other? It was youwho sent me here. Don't forget that, dear teller of fortunes, and I wantyou to be standing by my side when the storm breaks that must surely bebrewing for me after an incredible success."
There was more in the same vein. Alexis the King seemed to differ in noessential from the Alec Delgrado who used to wait for her every day inthe neighborhood of the Pont Neuf. Dare she risk it? The question hadtortured her ever since the early morning. It was not that the prospectof being a Queen was dazzling or even dismaying in itself; she reallydreaded the result of such a marriage on the fortunes of the man sheloved.
But against that self sacrificing attitude she was forced to admit theplea of Alec's own bewildering lack of conventionality. If half thestories in the newspapers were true, he was the most original mindedmonarch that ever reigned. She was quite sure that his answer to anyevasive reply on her part would be a public announcement of the factthat his promised bride was a young lady in Paris, Joan Vernon by name.And that would be worse almost than going quietly to Delgratz and beingmarried there.
What was she to do? She found Felix Poluski's gray eyes looking at hersteadfastly. In this dilemma he was her only trusted counselor, and hehad already advised her to yield.
"If I even knew his relatives," she faltered. "His parents live inParis. We have never met. How can I say to his mother, 'Your son wantsme to marry him. What do you think of me?' She, a Princess, would scoffat the idea."
"Alec is well aware of that; hence he has written direct to you, andsaid nothing to any other person. Let me assure you that if PrinceMichael Delgrado had gone to Delgratz he would have died a sudden andviolent death. Prince Michael knew it, and declined the distinction.Believe me, too, Alec has the very best of reasons for consulting no onein his choice of a wife. Now, Joan, be brave! When all is said and done,it should be far more pleasant to marry a King than fling a bomb at him,and I have met several young ladies almost as pretty as you who wereready enough to adopt the latter alternative. At any rate you will takeno harm by crossing the Danube. It is not the Rubicon, you know, and youhave Saint Peter to lean on in case of difficulty."
So Felix did not return to Paris alone, and when he met Count JuliusMarulitch next morning in the Louvre he was able to announce that MissJoan Vernon had accepted the commission to copy the Delgratz Saint Peterand was ready to start for Kosnovia by the night mail.