"Unwomanly!" he exclaimed. "It was by divine inspiration. But you will come with me, away from Graustark, away from every one. Say that you will!"
"I cannot bear to hear you plead, and it breaks my heart to go back there. But I cannot leave Graustark--I cannot! It would be Heaven to go with you to the end of the world, but I have others besides myself to consider. You are my G.o.d, my idol. I can worship you from my unhappy throne, from my chamber, from the cell into which my heart is to retreat. But I cannot, I will not desert Graustark. Not even for you!"
He was silent, impressed by her n.o.bility, her loyalty. Although the joy ebbed from his craving heart, he saw the justice of her self-sacrifice.
"I would give my soul to see your face now, Yetive. Your soul is in your eyes; I can feel it. Why did you not let me stay in prison, meet death and so end all? It would have been better for both of us. I cannot live without you."
"We can live for each other, die for each other,--apart. Distance will not lessen my love. You know that it exists; it has been betrayed to you. Can you not be satisfied--just a little bit--with that knowledge?"
she pleaded.
"But I want you in reality, not in my dreams, my imagination."
"Ach, we must not talk like this! There is no alternative. You are to go, I am to stay. The future is before us; G.o.d knows what it may bring to us. Perhaps it may be good enough to give us happiness--who knows? Do not plead with me. I cannot endure it. Let me be strong again! You will not be so cruel as to battle against me, now that I am weak; it would only mean my destruction. You do not seek that!"
His soul, his honor, the greatest reverence he had ever known were in the kiss that touched her brow.
"I shall love you as you command--without hope," he said, sadly.
"Without hope for either," she sobbed.
"My poor little soldier," he whispered, lovingly, as her body writhed under the storm of tears.
"I--I wish--I were a--soldier!" she wailed. He comforted her as best he could and soon she was quiet--oh, so very quiet. Her head was on his shoulder, her hands in his.
"How far do we drive?" he asked, at last.
"To the monastery. We are nearly there." she answered, in tones far away.
"The monastery? Why do we go there?" he cried.
"You are to stay there."
"What do you mean? I thought I was to leave Graustark."
"You are to leave--later on. Until the excitement is over the abbey is to be your hiding place. I have arranged everything, and it is the only safe place on earth for you at this time. No one will think of looking for you up there."
"I would to G.o.d I could stay there forever, living above you," he said, drearily.
"Your window looks down upon the castle; mine looks up to yours. The lights that burn in those two windows will send out beams of love and life for one of us, at least."
"For both of us, my sweetheart," he corrected, fondly. "You say I will be safe there. Can you trust these men who are aiding you?"
"With my life! Quinnox carried a message to the Abbot yesterday, and he grants you a temporary home there, secure and as secret as the tomb. He promises me this, and he is my best friend. Now, let me tell you why I am with you, masquerading so shamefully--"
"Adorably!" he protested.
"It is because the Abbot insisted that I bring you to him personally. He will not receive you except from my hands. There was nothing else for me to do, then, was there, Lorry? I was compelled to come and I could not come as the Princess--as a woman. Discovery would have meant degradation from which I could not have hoped to recover. The military garments were my only safeguard."
"And how many people know of your--deception?"
"Three--besides yourself. Dagmar, Quinnox and Captain Dangloss. The Abbot will know later on, and I shiver as I think of it. The driver and the man who went to your cell, Ogbot, know of the escape, but do not know I am here. Allode--you remember him--is our driver."
"Allode? He"s the fellow who saw me--er--who was in the throne room."
"He is the man who saw nothing, sir."
"I remember his obedience," he said, laughing in spite of his unhappiness. "Am I to have no freedom up here--no liberty, at all?"
"You are to act as the Abbot or the prior instructs. And, I must not forget, Quinnox will visit you occasionally. He will conduct you from the monastery and to the border line at the proper time."
"Alas! He will be my murderer, I fear. Yetive, you do not believe I killed Lorenz. I know that most of them do, but, I swear to you, I am no more the perpetrator of that cowardly crime than you. G.o.d bears testimony to my innocence. I want to hear you say that you do not believe I killed him."
"I feared so at first,--no, do not be angry--I feared you had killed him for my sake. But now I am sure that you are innocent."
The carriage stopped too soon and Quinnox opened the door. It was still as dark as pitch, but the downpour had ceased except for a disagreeable, misty drizzle, cold and penetrating.
"We have reached the stopping place," he said.
"And we are to walk from here to the gate," said the Princess, resuming her hoa.r.s.e, manly tones. While they were busy donning their rain coats, she whispered in Lorry"s ear: "I beg of you, do not let him know that you have discovered who I am."
He promised, and lightly s.n.a.t.c.hed a kiss, an act of indiscretion that almost brought fatal results. Forgetful of the darkness, she gave vent to a little protesting shriek, fearing that the eyes of the captain had witnessed the pretty transgression. Lorry laughed as he sprang to the road and turned to a.s.sist her in alighting. She promptly and thoughtfully averted the danger his gallantry presented by ignoring the outstretched hands, discernible as slender shadows protruding from an object a shade darker than the night, and leaped boldly to the ground.
The driver was instructed to turn the carriage about and to await their return.
With Lorry in the center the trio walked rapidly off in the darkness, the fugitive with the sense of fear that belongs only to a blind man. A little light far ahead told the position of the gate, and for this they bent their steps, Lorry and Quinnox conversing in low tones, the Princess striding along silently beside the former, her hand in his--a fact of which the real soldier was totally unaware. Reaching the gate, the captain pounded vigorously, and a sleepy monk soon peered from the little window through which shone the light.
"On important business with the Abbot, from Her Royal Highness, the Princess Yetive," said Quinnox, in response to a sharp query, spoken in the Graustark tongue. A little gate beside the big one opened and the monk, lantern in hand, bade them enter.
"Await me here, captain," commanded the slim, straight soldier, with face turned from the light. A moment later the gate closed and Lorry was behind the walls of St. Valentine"s, a prisoner again. The monk preceded them across the dark court toward the great black ma.s.s, his lantern creating ghastly shadows against the broken mist. His followers dropped some little distance behind, the tall one"s arm stealing about the other"s waist, his head bending to a level with hers.
"Is it to be good-by, dearest?" he asked. "Good-by forever?"
"I cannot say that. It would be like wishing you dead. Yet there is no hope. No, no! We will not say good-by,--forever," she said, despairingly.
"Won"t you bid me hope?"
"Impossible! You will stay here until Quinnox comes to take you away.
Then you must not stop until you are in your own land. We may meet again."
"Yes, by my soul, we shall meet again! I"ll do as you bid and all that, but I"ll come back when I can stay away no longer. Go to your castle and look forward to the day that will find me at your feet again. It is bound to come. But how are you to return to the castle tonight and enter without creating suspicion? Have you thought of that?"
"Am I a child? Inside of three hours I shall be safely in my bed and but one person in the castle will be the wiser for my absence. Here are the portals." They pa.s.sed inside the ma.s.sive doors and halted. "You must remain here until I have seen the prior," she said, laughing nervously and glancing down at the boots which showed beneath the long coat. Then she hastily followed the monk, disappearing down the corridor. In ten minutes--ten hours to Lorry--she returned with her guide.
"He will take you to your room," she said breathlessly, displaying unmistakable signs of embarra.s.sment. "The prior was shocked. Good-by, and G.o.d be with you always. Remember, I love you!"
The monk"s back was turned, so the new recluse s.n.a.t.c.hed the slight figure to his heart.
"Some day?" he whispered.
She would not speak, but he held leer until she nodded her head.