Beverly of Graustark Part 25

CHAPTER XVIII

CONFESSIONS AND CONCESSIONS

Beverly was speechless.

"Of course, your highness," said Baldos, deep apology in his voice, "Ravone is woefully misinformed. He is honest in his belief, and you should not misjudge his motives. How he could have been so blind as to confound you with that frisky American girl--but I beg your pardon. She is to be your guest. A thousand pardons, your highness."

She had been struck dumb by the wording of the note, but his apparently sincere apology for his friend set her every emotion into play once more. While he was speaking, her wits were forming themselves for conflict. She opened the campaign with a bold attack. "You--you believe me to be the princess, sure 'nough, don't you?" But with all her bravery, she was not able to look him in the face.

"How can you doubt it, your highness? Would I be serving you in the present capacity if I believed you to be anyone else?"

"Ravone's warning has not shaken your faith in me?"

"It has strengthened it. Nothing could alter the facts in the case. I have not, since we left Ganlook, been in doubt as to the ident.i.ty of my benefactress."

"It seems to me that you are beating around the bush. I'll come straight to the point. How long have you known that I am not the princess of Graustark?"

"What!" he exclaimed, drawing back in well-a.s.sumed horror. "Do you mean--are you jesting? I beg of you, do not jest. It is very serious with me." His alarm was so genuine that she was completely deceived.

"I am not jesting," she half whispered, turning very cold. "Have you thought all along that I am the princess--that I am Grenfall Lorry's wife?"

"You told me that you were the princess."

"But I've never said that I was--was anyone's wife."

There was a piteous appeal in her voice and he was not slow to notice it and rejoice. Then his heart smote him.

"But what is to become of me if you are not the princess?" he asked after a long pause. "I can no longer serve you. This is my last day in the castle guard."

"You are to go on serving me--I mean you are to retain your place in the service," she hastened to say. "I shall keep my promise to you." How small and humble she was beginning to feel. It did not seem so entertaining, after all, this pretty deception of hers. Down in his heart, underneath the gallant exterior, what was his opinion of her?

Something was stinging her eyes fiercely, and she closed them to keep back the tears of mortification.

"Miss Calhoun," he said, his manner changing swiftly, "I have felt from the first that you are not the princess of Graustark. I _knew_ it an hour after I entered Edelweiss. Franz gave me a note at Ganlook, but I did not read it until I was a member of the guard."

"You have known it so long?" she cried joyously. "And you have trusted me? You have not hated me for deceiving you?"

"I have never ceased to regard you as _my_ sovereign," he said softly.

"But just a moment ago you spoke of me as a frisky American girl," she said resentfully.

"I have used that term but once, while I have said 'your highness' a thousand times. Knowing that you were Miss Calhoun, I could not have meant either."

"I fancy I have no right to criticise you," she humbly admitted. "After all, it does not surprise me that you were not deceived. Only an imbecile could have been fooled all these weeks. Everyone said that you were no fool. It seems ridiculous that it should have gone to this length, doesn't it?"

"Not at all, your highness. I am not--"

"You have the habit, I see," she smiled.

"I have several months yet to serve as a member of the guard. Besides, I am under orders to regard you as the princess. General Marlanx has given me severe instructions in that respect."

"You are willing to play the game to the end?" she demanded, more gratified than she should have been.

"a.s.suredly, yes. It is the only safeguard I have. To alter my belief publicly would expose me to--to--"

"To what, Baldos?"

"To ridicule, for one thing, and to the generous mercies of Count Marlanx. Besides, it would deprive me of the privilege I mentioned a moment ago--the right to kiss your hand, to be your slave and to do homage to the only sovereign I can recognize. Surely, you will not subject me to exile from the only joys that life holds for me. You have sought to deceive me, and I have tried to deceive you. Each has found the other out, so we are quits. May we not now combine forces in the very laudible effort to deceive the world? If the world doesn't know that we know, why, the comedy may be long drawn out and the climax be made the more amusing."

"I'm afraid there was a touch of your old-time sarcasm in that remark,"

she said. "Yes, I am willing to continue the comedy. It seems the safest way to protect you--especially from General Marlanx. No one must ever know, Baldos; it would be absolutely pitiful. I am glad, oh, so glad, that you have known all the time. It relieves my mind and my conscience tremendously."

"Yes," he said gently; "I have known all along that you were not Mr. Lorry's wife." He had divined her thought and she flushed hotly. "You are still a princess, however. A poor goat-hunter can only look upon the rich American girl as a sovereign whom he must wors.h.i.+p from far below."

"Oh, I'm not so rich as all that," she cried." Besides, I think it is time for a general clearing-up of the mysteries. Are you Prince Dantan, Prince Frederic, or that other one--Christobal somebody? Come, be fair with me."

"It seems that all Edelweiss looks upon me as a prince in disguise. You found me in the hills--"

"No; you found me. I have not forgotten, sir."

"I was a vagabond and a fugitive. My friends are hunted as I am. We have no home. Why everyone should suspect me of being a prince I cannot understand. Every roamer in the hills is not a prince. There is a price upon my head, and there is a reward for the capture of every man who was with me in the pa.s.s. My name is Paul Baldos, Miss Calhoun. There is no mystery in that. If you were to mention it in a certain city, you would quickly find that the name of Baldos is not unknown to the people who are searching for him. No, your highness, I regret exceedingly that I must destroy the absurd impression that I am of royal blood. Perhaps I am spoiling a pretty romance, but it cannot be helped. I was Baldos, the goat-hunter; I am now Baldos, the guard. Do you think that I would be serving as a Graustark guard if I were any one of the men you mention?"

Beverly listened in wonder and some disappointment, it must be confessed. Somehow a spark of hope was being forever extinguished by this straightforward denial. He was not to be the prince she had seen in dreams. "You are not like anyone else," she said." That is why we thought of you as--as--as--"

"As one of those unhappy creatures they call princes? Thank fortune, your highness, I am not yet reduced to such straits. My exile will come only when you send me away."

They were silent for a long time. Neither was thinking of the hour, or the fact that her absence in the castle could not be unnoticed. Night had fallen heavily upon the earth. The two faithful chair-bearers, respectful but with wonder in their souls, stood afar off and waited. Baldos and Beverly were alone in their own little world.

"I think I liked you better when you wore the red feather and that horrid patch of black," she said musingly.

"And was a heart-free vagabond," he added, something imploring in his voice.

"An independent courtier, if you please, sir," she said severely.

"Do you want me to go back to the hills? I have the patch and the feather, and my friends are--"

"No! Don't suggest such a thing--yet." She began the protest eagerly and ended it in confusion.

"Alas, you mean that some day banishment is not unlikely?"

"You don't expect to be a guard all your life, do you?"

"Not to serve the princess of Graustark, I confess. My aim is much higher. If G.o.d lets me choose the crown I would serve, I shall enlist for life. The crown I would serve is wrought of love, the throne I would kneel before is a heart, the sceptre I would follow is in the slender hand of a woman. I could live and die in the service of my own choosing. But I am only the humble goat-hunter whose hopes are phantoms, whose ideals are conceived in impotence."

"That was beautiful," murmured Beverly, looking up, fascinated for the moment.

"Oh, that I had the courage to enlist," he cried, bending low once more. She felt the danger in his voice, half tremulous with some thing more than loyalty, and drew her hand away from a place of instant jeopardy. It was fire that she was playing with, she realized with a start of consciousness. Sweet as the spell had grown to be, she saw that it must be shattered.