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 a matter of fact, he had forgotten the day of the week they were now living 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 home by 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, he won"t think of refusing anything we ask. Shall we set it for Sat.u.r.day?"
They set it for Sat.u.r.day without consulting John Tullis, and then fell to discussing him. "He is very much in love with her," she said wistfully.
"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 her and the Duke of Perse as I came out awhile ago. They were going to the Duke"s rooms up there. The Duke will offer no objections. I think he"ll permit his daughter to select his next son-in-law."
"How could he have given her to that terrible, terrible old man?" she cried, with a shudder.
"She won"t be in mourning for him long, I fancy. n.o.body will talk of appearances, either. She could marry Jack to-morrow and no one would criticise her."
"Oh, that would be disgusting, Truxton!"
"But, my dear, he isn"t to have a funeral, so why not? They buried his body 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 he said. If he knew anything about John Tullis, it would not be "ever so long" before Prince Robin"s friend turned Benedict and husband to the most noted beauty in all Graustark.
"I shall be sorry to leave Graustark," she said dreamily, after a long period of silent retrospection. "I"ve had the happiest year of my life here."
"I"ve had the busiest month of my life here. I"ll never again say that the world is a dull place. And I"ll never advise any man to go out of his 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 for her."
"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 Princess Sweetheart, if I hadn"t come to Edelweiss. No; I would not have found you." Feeling her tremble in his arms, he went on with whimsical good humour: "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 than a baroness--more than a princess. You will be a queen. Don"t you catch the point? You will be Mrs. King."
The Grand Duke Paulus was distinctly annoyed. He had travelled many miles, endured quite a number of hardships, and all to no purpose. When dawn came, his emissaries returned from the city with the lamentable information that the government had righted itself, that Marlanx"s sensational revolution was at an end, and that the regents would be highly honoured if his Excellency could overlook the distressingly chaotic conditions at court and condescend to pay the Castle a visit.
The regents, the Prince and the citizens of Graustark desired the opportunity to express their grat.i.tude for the manner in which he had voluntarily (and unexpectedly) come to their a.s.sistance in time of trouble. The fact that he had come too late to render the invaluable aid he so n.o.bly intended did not in the least minimise the volume of gratefulness they felt.
The Grand Duke admitted that he was at sea, diplomatically. He was a fifth wheel, so to speak, now that the revolution was over. Not so much as 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 thousand Cossacks and march disconsolately across the steppes to an Imperial railroad, where he could embark for home. However, he would visit the Castle in a very informal way, extend his congratulations, offer his services--which he knew would be declined with thanks--and profess his unbounded joy in the discovery that Graustark happily was so able to take care of herself. Incidentally, he would mention the bond issue; also, he would find the opportunity to suggest to the ministry that his government still was willing to make large grants and stupendous promises if any sort of an arrangement could be made by which the system might be operated in conjunction with branch lines of the Imperial roads.
And so it was that at noon he rode in pomp and splendour through the city gates, attended by his staff and a rather overpowering body-guard.
His excuse for the early call was delicately worded. He said in his reply to the message from the Count that it would give him great pleasure to remain for some time at the Castle, were it not for the fact that he had left his own province in a serious state of unrest; it was imperative that he should return in advance of the ever-possible and always popular uprising. Therefore he would pay his respects to his serene Highness, renew his protestations of friendship, extend his felicitations, and beg leave to depart for his own land without delay.
As he rode from Regengetz Circus into Castle Avenue, a small knot of American tourists crowded to the curb and bent eager, attentive ears to the words of a stubby little person whom we should recognise by his accent; but, for fear that there may be some who have forgotten him in the rush of events, we will point to his cap and read aloud: "Cook"s Interpreter."
Mr. Hobbs was saying: "The gentleman on the gray horse, ladies and gentlemen, is his _Highness_, the Grand Duke Paulus. He has come to pay his respects to his Serene Highness. Now, if you will kindly step this way, I will show you the spot where the bomb was thrown. "Aving been an eye-witness to the shocking occurrence, I respectfully submit that I,"
etc. With a pride and dignity that surpa.s.sed all moderate sense of appreciation, he delivered newly made history unto his charges, modestly winding up his discourse with the casual remark that the Prince had but recently appointed him twelfth a.s.sistant steward at the Castle, and that he expected to a.s.sume the duties of this honorary position just as soon as 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 first train that entered the city from the outside world.
The audience was at two o"clock. Prince Robin was in a state of tremendous excitement. Never before had he been called upon to receive a grand duke. He quite forgot yesterday"s battle in the face of this most imposing calamity. More than that, he was in no frame of mind to enjoy the excitement attending the rehabilitation of the Castle; oppressed by the approaching shadow of the great man, he lost all interest in what was 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. They were 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 on his throne. It"s shockingly bad form."
"I hope he won"t stay long," prayed Bobby, a grave pucker between his brows. He was a very tired little boy. His eyes were heavy with sleep and his lips were not very firm.
"Count Halfont will look after him, Bobby; so don"t worry. Just sit up there on the throne and look wise. The regents will do the rest. Watch your Uncle Caspar. When he gives the signal, you arise. That ends the audience. You walk out--"
"I know all about that, Uncle Jack. But I bet I do something wrong. This thing of receiving grand dukes is no joke. "Specially when we"re so terribly upset. Really, I ought to be looking after the men who are wounded, 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"m not scared!" He was thoughtful for a moment. "But, I"ll tell you, it"s awful 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. It was not for him to consider the conditions that distressed the Court of Graustark. Not at all. He was a grand duke and he would take his own time in paying his respects. What cared he that every one in the Castle was tired and unstrung and sad and--sleepy? Any one but a grand duke would have waited a day or two before requiring a royal audience. When he finally presented himself at the Castle doors, a sleepy group of attendants actually yawned in his presence.
A somnolent atmosphere, still touched by the smell of gunpowder, greeted him as he strode majestically down the halls. Somehow each person who bowed to him seemed to do it with the melancholy precision of one who has been up for six nights in succession and doesn"t care who knows it.
No one had slept during the night just pa.s.sed. Excitement and the suffering of others had denied slumber to one and all--even to those who had 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 was confronted by a punctiliously polite a.s.semblage, but every eyelid was as heavy as lead and as p.r.o.ne to sink.
The Prince sat far back in the great chair of his ancestors, his st.u.r.dy legs sticking straight out in front of him, utterly lost in the depths of gold and royal velvet. Two-score or more of his courtiers and as many n.o.ble ladies of the realm stood soberly in the places a.s.signed them by the laws of precedence. The Grand Duke advanced between the respectful lines and knelt at the foot of the throne.