CHAPTER XXIII
"YOU WILL BE MRS. KING"
Late that night it was reported at the Castle that a large force of menwere encamped on the opposite side of the river. A hundred camp-fireswere gleaming against the distant uplands.
"The Grand Duke Paulus!" exclaimed Count Halfont. "Thank God, he did notcome a day earlier. We owe him nothing to-day--but yesterday! Ah, hecould have demanded much of us. Send his messengers to me, ColonelQuinnox, as soon as they arrive in the morning. I will arise early.There is much to do in Graustark. Let there be no sluggards."
A mellow, smiling moon crept up over the hills, flooding the laud with aserene radiance. Once more the windows in the Castle gleamed brightly;low-voiced people strolled through the shattered balconies; otherswandered about the vast halls, possessed by uncertain emotions, torn bythe conflicting hands of joy and gloom. In a score of rooms wounded menwere lying; in others there were dead heroes. At the barracks, standingdully against the distant shadows, there were many cots of suffering.And yet there was rejoicing, even among those who writhed in pain orbowed their heads in grief. Victory's wings were fanning the gloom away;conquest was painting an ever-widening streak of brightness across thedark, drear canvas of despair.
In one of the wrecked approaches to the terrace, surrounded by fragmentsof stone and confronted by ugly destruction, sat a young man and aslender girl. There were no lights near them; the shadows were blackand forbidding. This particular end of the terrace had suffered most inthe fierce rain of cannon-balls. So great was the devastation here thatone attained the position held by the couple only by means of no littledaring and at the risk of unkind falls. From where they sat they couldsee the long vista of lighted windows and yet could not themselves beseen.
His arm was about her; her head nestled securely against his shoulderand her slim hands were willing prisoners in one of his.
She was saying "Truxton, dear, I did _not_ love Eric Vos Engo. I justthought it was love. I never really knew what love is until you cameinto my life. Then I knew the difference. That's what made it so hard. Ihad let him believe that I might care for him some day. And I _did_ likehim. So I--"
"You are sure--terribly sure--that I am the only man you ever reallyloved?" he interrupted.
She snuggled closer. "Haven't I just told you that I didn't know what itwas until--well, until now?"
"You will never, never know how happy I am, Loraine!" he breathed intoher ear.
"I hope I shall always bring happiness to you, Truxton," she murmured,faint with the joy of loving.
"You will make me very unhappy if you don't marry me to-morrow."
"I couldn't think of it!"
"I don't ask you to think. If you do, you may change your mindcompletely. Just marry me without thinking, dearest."
"I will marry you, Truxton, when we get to New York," she said, but notvery firmly. He saw his advantage.
"But, my dear, I'm tired of travelling."
It was rather enigmatic. "What has that to do with it?" she asked.
"Well, it's this way: if we get married in New York we'll have toconsider an extended and wholly obligatory wedding journey. If we getmarried here, we can save all that bother by bridal-tripping to NewYork, instead of away from it. And, what's more, we'll escape therice-throwing and the old shoes and the hand-painted trunk labels.Greater still: we will avoid a long and lonely trip across the ocean onseparate steamers. That's something, you know."
"We _could_ go on the same steamer."
"Quite so, my dear. But don't you think it would be nicer if we went asone instead of two?"
"I suppose it would be cheaper."
"They say a fellow saves money by getting married."
"I hate a man who is always trying to save money."
"Well, if you put it that way, I'll promise never to save a cent. I'm ahorrible spendthrift."
"Oh, you'll have to save, Truxton!"
"How silly we are!" he cried in utter joyousness. He held her close fora long time, his face buried in her hair. "Listen, darling: won't yousay you'll be my wife before I leave Graustark? I want you so much. Ican't go away without you."
She hesitated. "When are you going, Truxton? You--you haven't told me."
It was what he wanted. "I am going next Monday," he said promptly. As amatter of fact, he had forgotten the day of the week they were nowliving in.
"Monday? Oh, dear!"
"Will you?"
"I--I must cable home first," she faltered.
"That's a mere detail, darling. Cable afterward. It will beat us homeby three weeks. They'll know we're coming."
"I must ask John, really I must, Truxton," she protested faintly.
"Hurray!" he shouted--in a whisper. "He is so desperately in love, hewon't think of refusing anything we ask. Shall we set it for Saturday?"
They set it for Saturday without consulting John Tullis, and then fellto discussing him. "He is very much in love with her," she saidwistfully.
"And she loves him, Loraine. They will be very happy. She's wonderful."
"Well, so is John. He's the most wonderful man in all this world."
"I am sure of it," he agreed magnanimously. "I saw him talking with herand the Duke of Perse as I came out awhile ago. They were going to theDuke's rooms up there. The Duke will offer no objections. I think he'llpermit his daughter to select his next son-in-law."
"How could he have given her to that terrible, terrible old man?" shecried, with a shudder.
"She won't be in mourning for him long, I fancy. Nobody will talk ofappearances, either. She could marry Jack to-morrow and no one wouldcriticise her."
"Oh, that would be disgusting, Truxton!"
"But, my dear, he isn't to have a funeral, so why not? They buried hisbody in quicklime this afternoon. No mourners, no friends, no tears!Hang it all, she's foolish if she puts on anything but red."
"They can't be married for--oh, ever so long," she said very primly.
"No, indeed," he said with alacrity. But he did not believe what hesaid. If he knew anything about John Tullis, it would not be "ever solong" before Prince Robin's friend turned Benedict and husband to themost noted beauty in all Graustark.
"I shall be sorry to leave Graustark," she said dreamily, after a longperiod of silent retrospection. "I've had the happiest year of my lifehere."
"I've had the busiest month of my life here. I'll never again say thatthe world is a dull place. And I'll never advise any man to go out ofhis own home city in search of the most adorable woman in the world.She's always there, bless her heart, if he'll only look around a bit forher."
"But you wouldn't have found me if you hadn't come to Graustark."
"I shudder when I think of what might have happened to you, my PrincessSweetheart, if I hadn't come to Edelweiss. No; I would not have foundyou." Feeling her tremble in his arms, he went on with whimsical goodhumour: "You would have been eaten up by the ogre long before this. Or,perhaps, you would have succeeded in becoming a countess."
"As it is, I shall be a baroness."
"In Graustark, but not in New York. That reminds me. You'll be more thana baroness--more than a princess. You will be a queen. Don't you catchthe point? You will be Mrs. King."
* * * * *
The Grand Duke Paulus was distinctly annoyed. He had travelled manymiles, endured quite a number of hardships, and all to no purpose. Whendawn came, his emissaries returned from the city with the lamentableinformation that the government had righted itself, that Marlanx'ssensational revolution was at an end, and that the regents would behighly honoured if his Excellency could overlook the distressinglychaotic conditions at court and condescend to pay the Castle a visit.The regents, the Prince and the citizens of Graustark desired theopportunity to express their gratitude for the manner in which he hadvoluntarily (and unexpectedly) come to their assistance in time oftrouble. The fact that he had come too late to render the invaluable aidhe so nobly intended did not in the least minimise t
he volume ofgratefulness they felt.
The Grand Duke admitted that he was at sea, diplomatically. He was afifth wheel, so to speak, now that the revolution was over. Not so muchas the tip of his finger had he been able to get into the coveted pie.There was nothing for him to do but to turn round with his five thousandCossacks and march disconsolately across the steppes to an Imperialrailroad, where he could embark for home. However, he would visit theCastle in a very informal way, extend his congratulations, offer hisservices--which he knew would be declined with thanks--and profess hisunbounded joy in the discovery that Graustark happily was so able totake care of herself. Incidentally, he would mention the bond issue;also, he would find the opportunity to suggest to the ministry that hisgovernment still was willing to make large grants and stupendouspromises if any sort of an arrangement could be made by which the systemmight be operated in conjunction with branch lines of the Imperialroads.
And so it was that at noon he rode in pomp and splendour through thecity gates, attended by his staff and a rather overpowering body-guard.His excuse for the early call was delicately worded. He said in hisreply to the message from the Count that it would give him greatpleasure to remain for some time at the Castle, were it not for the factthat he had left his own province in a serious state of unrest; it wasimperative that he should return in advance of the ever-possible andalways popular uprising. Therefore he would pay his respects to hisserene Highness, renew his protestations of friendship, extend hisfelicitations, and beg leave to depart for his own land without delay.
As he rode from Regengetz Circus into Castle Avenue, a small knot ofAmerican tourists crowded to the curb and bent eager, attentive ears tothe words of a stubby little person whom we should recognise by hisaccent; but, for fear that there may be some who have forgotten him inthe rush of events, we will point to his cap and read aloud: "Cook'sInterpreter."
Mr. Hobbs was saying: "The gentleman on the gray horse, ladies andgentlemen, is his _Highness_, the Grand Duke Paulus. He has come to payhis respects to his Serene Highness. Now, if you will kindly step thisway, I will show you the spot where the bomb was thrown. 'Aving been aneye-witness to the shocking occurrence, I respectfully submit that I,"etc. With a pride and dignity that surpassed all moderate sense ofappreciation, he delivered newly made history unto his charges, modestlywinding up his discourse with the casual remark that the Prince had butrecently appointed him twelfth assistant steward at the Castle, and thathe expected to assume the duties of this honorary position just as soonas Cook & Sons could find a capable man to send up in his place.
The American tourists, it may be well to observe, arrived by the firsttrain that entered the city from the outside world.
The audience was at two o'clock. Prince Robin was in a state oftremendous excitement. Never before had he been called upon to receive agrand duke. He quite forgot yesterday's battle in the face of this mostimposing calamity. More than that, he was in no frame of mind to enjoythe excitement attending the rehabilitation of the Castle; oppressed bythe approaching shadow of the great man, he lost all interest in whatwas going on in the Castle, about the grounds and among his courtiers.
"What'll I do, Uncle Jack, if he asks any questions?" he mourned. Theywere dressing him in the robes of state.
"Answer 'em," said his best friend.
"But supposin' I can't? Then what?"
"He won't ask questions, Bobby. People never do when a potentate is onhis throne. It's shockingly bad form."
"I hope he won't stay long," prayed Bobby, a grave pucker between hisbrows. He was a very tired little boy. His eyes were heavy with sleepand his lips were not very firm.
"Count Halfont will look after him, Bobby; so don't worry. Just sit upthere on the throne and look wise. The regents will do the rest. Watchyour Uncle Caspar. When he gives the signal, you arise. That ends theaudience. You walk out--"
"I know all about that, Uncle Jack. But I bet I do something wrong. Thisthing of receiving grand dukes is no joke. 'Specially when we're soterribly upset. Really, I ought to be looking after the men who arewounded, attending to the funerals of--"
"Now, Bobby, don't flunk like that! Be a man!"
Bobby promptly squared his little shoulders and set his jaw. "Oh, I'mnot scared!" He was thoughtful for a moment. "But, I'll tell you, it'sawful lonesome up in that big chair, so far away from all your friends.I wish Uncle Caspar would let me sit down with the crowd."
The Grand Duke, with all the arrogance of a real personage, was late. Itwas not for him to consider the conditions that distressed the Court ofGraustark. Not at all. He was a grand duke and he would take his owntime in paying his respects. What cared he that every one in the Castlewas tired and unstrung and sad and--sleepy? Any one but a grand dukewould have waited a day or two before requiring a royal audience. Whenhe finally presented himself at the Castle doors, a sleepy group ofattendants actually yawned in his presence.
A somnolent atmosphere, still touched by the smell of gunpowder, greetedhim as he strode majestically down the halls. Somehow each person whobowed to him seemed to do it with the melancholy precision of one whohas been up for six nights in succession and doesn't care who knows it.
No one had slept during the night just passed. Excitement and thesuffering of others had denied slumber to one and all--even to those whohad not slept for many days and nights. Now the reaction was upon them.Relaxation had succeeded tenseness.
When the Grand Duke entered the great, sombre throne room, he wasconfronted by a punctiliously polite assemblage, but every eyelid was asheavy as lead and as prone to sink.
The Prince sat far back in the great chair of his ancestors, his sturdylegs sticking straight out in front of him, utterly lost in the depthsof gold and royal velvet. Two-score or more of his courtiers and as manynoble ladies of the realm stood soberly in the places assigned them bythe laws of precedence. The Grand Duke advanced between the respectfullines and knelt at the foot of the throne.
"Arise, your Highness," piped Bobby, with a quick glance at CountHalfont. It was a very faint, faraway voice that uttered the graciouscommand. "Graustark welcomes the Grand Duke Paulus. It is my pleasureto--to--to--" a helpless look came into his eyes. He looked everywherefor support. The Grand Duke saw that he had forgotten the rehearsedspeech, and smiled benignly as he stepped forward and kissed the handthat had been extended somewhat uncertainly.
"My most respectful homage to your Majesty. The felicitations of myemperor and the warmest protestations of friendship from his people."
With this as a prologue, he engaged himself in the ever-pleasurable taskof delivering a long, congratulatory address. If there was one thingabove another that the Grand Duke enjoyed, it was the making of aspeech. He prided himself on his prowess as an orator and as anafter-dinner speaker; but, more than either of these, he gloried in hisability to soar extemporaneously.
For ten minutes he addressed himself to the throne, benignly,comfortably. Then he condescended to devote a share of his preciousstore to the courtiers behind him. If he caught more than one of themyawning when he turned in their direction, he did not permit it todisturb him in the least. His eyes may have narrowed a bit, but that wasall.
After five minutes of high-sounding platitudes, he again turned to thePrince. It was then that he received his first shock.
Prince Robin was sound asleep. His head was slipping side-wise along thesatiny back of the big chair, and his chin was very low in the laces athis neck. The Grand Duke coughed emphatically, cleared his throat, andgrew very red in the face.
The Court of Graustark was distinctly dismayed. Here was shocking stateof affairs. The prince going to sleep while a grand duke talked!
"His Majesty appears to have--ahem--gone to sleep," remarked the GrandDuke tartly, interrupting himself to address the Prime Minister.
"He is very tired, your Excellency," said Count Halfont, very muchdistressed. "Pray consider what he has been through during the--"
"Ah, my dear Count, do not apologise for him. I q
uite understand. Ahem!Ahem!" Still he was very red in the face. Some one had laughed softlybehind his back.
"I will awaken him, your Excellency," said the Prime Minister, edgingtoward the throne.
"Not at all, sir!" protested the visitor. "Permit him to have his sleepout, sir. I will not have him disturbed. Who am I that I should defeatthe claims of nature? It is my pleasure to wait until his Majesty's napis over. Then he may dismiss us, but not until we have cried: 'Long livethe Prince!'"
For awhile they stood in awkward silence, this notable gathering of menand women. Then the Prime Minister, in hushed tones, suggested that itwould be eminently proper, under the circumstances, for all present tobe seated. He was under the impression that His Serene Highness wouldsleep long and soundly.
Stiff-backed and uncomfortable, the Court sat and waited. No onepretended to conceal the blissful yawns that would not be denied. Adrowsy, ineffably languid feeling took possession of the entireassemblage. Here and there a noble head nodded slightly; eyelids fell inthe silent war against the god of slumber, only to revive again withpainful energy and ever-weakening courage.
The Prime Minister sat at the foot of the throne and nodded in spite ofhimself. The Minister of the Treasury was breathing so heavily that hisneighbor nudged him just in time to prevent something even morehumiliating. John Tullis, far back near the wall, had his head on hishand, bravely fighting off the persistent demon. Prince Dantan ofDawsbergen was sound asleep.
The Grand Duke was wide awake. He saw it all and was equal to theoccasion. After all, he was a kindly old gentleman, and, once his momentof mortification was over, he was not above charity.
Bobby's poor little head had slipped over to a most uncomfortableposition against the arm of the chair. Putting his finger to his lips,the Grand Duke tip-toed carefully up to the throne. With very gentlehands he lifted Bobby's head, and, infinitely tender, stuffed a thronecushion behind the curly head. Still with his finger to his lips, asplendid smile in his eyes, he tip-toed back to his chair.
As he passed Count Halfont, who had risen, he whispered:
"Dear little man! I do not forget, my lord, that I was once a boy. Godbless him!"
Then he sat down, conscious of a fine feeling of goodness, folded hisarms across his expansive chest, and allowed his beaming eyes to restupon the sleeping boy far back in the chair of state. Incidentally, hedecided to delay a few days before taking up the bond question with theministry. The Grand Duke was not an ordinary diplomat.
In one of the curtained windows, far removed from the throne, satTruxton King and Loraine Tullis.
All about them people were watching the delicate little scene, smilingdrowsily at the Grand Duke's tender comedy. No one was looking at thetwo in the curtained recess. Her hand was in his, her head sank slowlytoward his inviting shoulder; her heavy lids drooped lower and lower,refusing to obey the slender will that argued against completesurrender. At last her soft, regular breathing told him that she wasasleep. Awaiting his opportunity, he tenderly kissed the soft, brownhair, murmured a gentle word of love, and settled his own head againstthe thick cushions.
Everywhere they dozed and nodded. The Grand Duke smiled and blinked hislittle eyes. He was very wide awake.
That is how he happened to see the Prince move restlessly and half openhis sleep-bound eyes. The Grand Duke leaned forward with his hand to hisear, and listened. He had seen the boy's lips move. From dreamland cameBobby's belated:
"Good-ni--ight."
THE END
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