We pa.s.sed through the gloomy salon. A damp, musty odor struck my sense of smell. I was positive that the castle was uninhabited, save for this night. Three candles burned on the mantel, giving to the gloom a mysterious, palpitating effect. The room beyond was the dining-room, richly paneled in wine-colored mahogany. This was better; it was cheerful. A log crackled in the fireplace. There were plenty of candles. There was a piano, too. This belonged to the castle; a heavy tarpaulin covering lay heaped at one side. There was a mahogany sideboard that would have sent a collector of antiques into raptures, and a table upon which lay the remains of a fine supper. My mouth watered. I counted over the good things: roast pheasant, pink ham, a sea-food salad, asparagus, white bread and unsalted b.u.t.ter, an alcohol-burner over which hung a tea-pot, and besides all this there was a pint of La Rose which was but half-emptied. Have you ever been in the saddle half a day? If you have, you will readily appreciate the appet.i.te that was warring with my curiosity.
"Eat," bade she who was called Gretchen, shortly.
"And my horse?"
"Where is it?"
"Tied to a tree by the gate."
She struck a Chinese gong. From the kitchen appeared an elderly servitor who looked to me more fitted to handle a saber than a carving-knife; at least, the scar on his cheek impressed me with this idea. (I found out later that he was an old soldier, who lived alone in the castle as caretaker.)
"Take this gentleman"s horse to the stables and feed him," said Gretchen. "You will find the animal by the gate."
With a questioning glance at me the old fellow bowed and made off.
I sat down, and the two women brought the various plates and placed them within reach. Their beautiful hands flashed before my eyes and now and then a sleeve brushed my shoulder.
"Thank you," I murmured. "I will eat first, and then make my apologies."
This remark caught the fancy of Gretchen. She laughed. It was the same laughter I had heard while standing in the great hall.
"Will you drink tea, or would you prefer to finish this Bordeaux?" she asked pleasantly.
"The wine, if you please; otherwise the effect of the meal and the long hours in the wind will produce sleepiness. And it would be frightfully discourteous on my part to fall asleep in my chair. I am very hard to awake."
The English girl poured out the wine and pa.s.sed the goblet to me. I touched my lips to the gla.s.s, and bent my head politely. Then I resolutely proceeded to attack the pheasant and ham. I must prove to these women that at least I was honest in regard to my hunger. I succeeded in causing a formidable portion of the food to disappear.
And then I noticed that neither of the young women seated herself while I ate. I understood. There was no hostility in this action; nothing but formality. They declined to sit in the presence of an unwelcome stranger, thus denying his equality from a social point of view. I readily accepted this decision on their part. They didn"t know who I was. They stood together by the fireplace and carried on a conversation in low tones.
How shall I describe them? The elder of the two, the one who seemed to possess all the authority, could not have been more than twenty. Her figure was rather matured, yet it was delicate. Her hair was tawny, her skin olive in shade and richly tinted at the cheek-bones. Her eyes, half framed by thick, black-arching brows, reminded me of woodland pools in the dusk of evening,--depths unknown, cool, refreshing in repose. The chin was resolute, the mouth was large but shapely and brilliant, the nose possessed the delicate nostrils characteristic of all sensitive beings--that is to say, thoroughbreds; altogether a confusing, bewildering beauty. At one moment I believed her to be Latin, at the next I was positive that she was Teutonic. I could not discover a single weak point, unless impulsiveness shall be called weakness; this sign of impulsiveness was visible in the lips.
The other--well, I couldn"t help it. It was _Kismet_, fate, the turn in the road, what you will. I fell heels over head in love with her at once. She was charming, exquisite, one of those delicate creatures who always appear in enchantments; a Bouguereau child grown into womanhood, made to fit the protecting frame of a man"s arms. Love steals into the heart when we least expect him; and before we are aware, the sly little G.o.d has unpacked his trunk and taken possession!
Eyes she had as blue as the Aegean Sea on windy days, blue as the cloud-winnowed sky of a winter"s twilight, blue as sapphires--Irish eyes! Her hair was as dark and silken as a plume from the wings of night. (Did I not say that I had some poetry in my system?) The shape of her mouth--Never mind; I can recall only the mad desire to kiss it.
A graceful figure, a proud head, a slender hand, a foot so small that I wondered if it really poised, balanced or supported her young body.
Tender she must be, and loving, enc.l.i.tical rather than erect like her authoritative companion. She was adorable.
All this inventory of feminine charms was taken by furtive glances, sometimes caught--or were they taking an inventory of myself?
Presently my appet.i.te became singularly submissive. Hunger often is satisfied by the feeding of the eyes. I dropped my napkin on the table and pushed back my chair. My hostesses ceased conversing.
"Ladies," said I courteously, "I offer you my sincere apologies for this innocent intrusion." I looked at my watch. "I believe that you gave me an hour"s respite. So, then, I have thirty minutes to my account."
The women gazed at each other. One laughed, and the other smiled; it was the English girl who laughed this time. I liked the sound of it better than any I had yet heard.
(Pardon another parenthesis. I hope you haven"t begun to think that _I_ am the hero of this comedy. Let it be furthest from your thoughts.
I am only a pa.s.sive bystander.)
"I sincerely trust that your hunger is appeased," said the one who had smiled.
"It is, thank you." I absently fumbled in my coat pockets, then guiltily dropped my hands. What a terrible thing habit is!
"You may smoke," said the Bouguereau child who was grown into womanhood. Wasn"t that fine of her? And wasn"t it rather observant, too? I learned later that she had a brother who was fond of tobacco.
To her eyes my movement was a familiar one.
"With your kind permission," said I gratefully. I hadn"t had a smoke in four hours.
I owned a single good cigar, the last of my importation. I lighted it and blew forth a snowy billow of heavenly aroma. I know something about human nature, even the feminine side of it. A presentable young man with a roll of aromatic tobacco seldom falls to win the confidence of those about him. With that cloud of smoke the raw edge of formality smoothed down.
"Had you any particular destination?" asked Gretchen.
"None at all. The road took my fancy, and I simply followed it."
"Ah! that is one of the pleasures of riding--to go wherever the inclination bids. I ride."
We were getting on famously.
"Do you take long journeys?" I inquired.
"Often. It is the most exhilarating of sports," said the Enchantment.
"The scenery changes; there are so many things that charm and engage your interest: the mountains, the waterways, the old ruins. Have you ever whistled to the horses afield and watched them come galloping down to the wall? It is fine. In England--" But her mouth closed suddenly. She was talking to a stranger.
I love enthusiasm in a woman. It colors her cheeks and makes her eyes sparkle, I grew a bit bolder.
"I heard a wonderful voice as I approached the castle," said I.
Gretchen shrugged.
"I haven"t heard its equal outside Berlin or Paris," I went on.
"Paris?" said Gretchen, laying a neat little trap for me into which my conceit was soon to tumble me. "Paris is a marvelous city."
"There is no city to equal it. Inasmuch as we three shall never meet again, will you not do me the honor to repeat that jewel song from _Faust_?" My audacity did not impress her in the least.
"You can scarcely expect me to give a supper to a stranger and then sing for him, besides," said Gretchen, a chill again stealing into her tones. "These Americans!" she observed to her companion in French.
I laid aside my cigar, approached the piano, and sat down. I struck a few chords and found the instrument to be in remarkably good order. I played a Chopin _Polonaise_, I tinkled Grieg"s _Papillon_, then I ceased.
"That is to pay for my supper," I explained.
Next I played _Le Courier_, and when I had finished that I turned again, rising.
"That is to pay for my horse"s supper," I said.
Gretchen"s good humor returned.
"Whoever you are, sir," her tone no longer repellent, "you are amusing.
Pray, tell us whom we have the honor to entertain?"