Trusia Part 20

"Your Majesty mistakes," was the quick retort, "my homage is to Krovitch. We are equals--you and I."

"I could ask no greater distinction than equality with you." Stovik's answer was a pattern of humility, which Trusia in her loyalty was quick to see. Her face softened.

"If Your Majesty will deign to come, I have something over there I think will interest you," and she indicated the far end of the room where stood a velvet draped table guarded by two gentlemen in hussar uniform.

With her hand upon his arm Stovik sedately approached the place. Here he saw nothing but the bulk of objects covered by a silken cloth. This Trusia removed.

The act disclosed a crown, a sceptre and a jeweled sword. Before them on the cus.h.i.+on also lay the grand badge of the Order of the Lion with a fine chain of gold.

"As the hereditary head of the Order, sire," Trusia remarked as she raised the glittering insignia, "you are ent.i.tled to a.s.sume the mark at once." Without further words she drew the chain over his head letting the Lion depend upon the breast of his artist's blouse.

Lifting up the crown he turned to her mischievously. "Why not this?" He made a gesture to put it on his head.

"It will be a burden, sire. That's why they are all made so pleasing to look upon; gemmed and jeweled, just as sugar coats a bitter pill. A crown means weariness and strife. Are you so anxious to take up its cares? They will come soon enough." She spoke in a sweetly serious voice that was not without its effect upon him. "Besides," she said, "the Bishop of Schallberg has waited many years to perform that office. Would you rob him of it?"

Although Stovik replaced the glittering loop upon the velvet pall, he smiled to think how little the Church had entered into his former scheme of life. Trusia seemed to divine his thoughts, for, as his ascending eyes met hers, she continued speaking of the aged prelate.

"He is a dear old man, sire, kindly and gentle. The beggars and little children call him their patron saint. Well past the allotted span of years, he has prayed to be spared until the day when he can anoint the head of the King of Krovitch. Then, he says, he will die joyously."

The King murmured his hopes for a longer life for the Bishop, and Trusia turned to present her chaperon, the Countess Muhlen-Sarkey, with the remaining gentlemen of the Court.

After the formalities had been attended to, and he had received the sincere good wishes of his n.o.bles, the King turned to the beautiful girl at his side.

"Do you leave with us to-morrow?" he asked. "Of our future plans I have had necessarily only a sketch. So little time has elapsed since Colonel Sutphen visited Eugene Delmotte that King Stovik can readily be forgiven for some slight ignorance."

"If it meets with Your Majesty's approval, we will start to-morrow for Vienna," Trusia said. "There we will await Colonel Sutphen's summons from your capital, Schallberg. Major Carter, Josef, myself and the Countess Muhlen-Sarkey will accompany Your Majesty. The other gentlemen will attend the Colonel. They precede us to ascertain if all is in readiness."

"Will the gentlemen travel in uniform?" The King's glance about the room had not been free from an apprehension that such a course might awaken inquisitive questions from officials.

"Oh, certainly not, Your Majesty," the girl rea.s.sured him. "Your Majesty will procure a pa.s.sport made out to Eugene Delmotte, artist. You will be traveling to Krovitch for studies for the painting I hear you are making. The uniforms will be a part of your paraphernalia."

"Will there be no risk?"

"Is Your Majesty unwilling to take the least? Your subjects must indeed seem reckless to you." Trusia's tone indicated the depth of her reproof.

"I suppose that did sound rather selfish," he hastened to confess, "but the truth is that I do not yet realize that I am actually a king. That I, a few hours ago a penniless artist, should be plunging into a national movement as its leader, its king, seems nothing short of a dream. But tell me, d.u.c.h.ess, from whom we should fear detection?"

"This is a national movement of ours, sire. Some chance may have aroused Russian suspicion, but believe me, I'd stake my life on your people's loyalty. St. Petersburg may be apprehensive, but they know nothing of the real truth nor the imminence of our uprising. Here is Colonel Sutphen, doubtless wis.h.i.+ng to talk more fully of our plans to you," she concluded as the grizzled veteran stood courteously awaiting their leisure to speak with the King.

Feeling free to do so now, she turned to her American aide. "Major Carter," she said, "I think His Majesty can spare me now. Won't you tell me of your adventures to-night?" Taking the arm he offered they strolled together into the hall. Being there out of the royal presence they were at liberty to seat themselves. An alcove held a tempting divan. Here they found a place.

"Your Grace," he said in a tone he strove valiantly to hold within the pitch of social usage, "let me rather tell you how beautiful I fancied you to-night."

As the handsome fellow bent his head toward her, she was possessed of a strange yearning. The plans, the plots, the wearying details of years had almost deprived her of the solace of s.e.x; in the role of patriot she had well-nigh forgotten that she was a woman. A hunger for her due, so long deferred, spoke in her voice.

"Yes," she said honestly, "please do. Anything to make me forget for the few minutes I can call my own. Tell me a fairy-story," she commanded with almost childish eagerness. "Or have you Americans foresworn fairies for Edisons?"

"I know one who has not," he answered, falling soothingly into her mood.

"He has seen the Queen, t.i.tania."

"Well, tell me about her. Oh, I do hope that she was beautiful," and she dimpled bewitchingly.

"She was--fairy queens are always beautiful, and sometimes kind. Once upon a time--all fairy-stories have happened once upon a time--there was a man."

"Yes," she interrupted, bending expectantly toward him.

"He was poor," he continued quietly.

"Oh," she exclaimed in disappointment.

Carter shook his head understandingly. "He was an artist. He hoped one day to be called a genius. The fairy queen knew this was not to be so she made him a king and gave him--part of her kingdom." He paused to find her looking down, a shade of sadness on her face. Noticing his pause she looked up.

"Well?" she asked.

"There was another man," he continued. "This other man was not poor. He was not an artist, but to-night he saw the fairy queen in all her regal splendor. It made him think that all the flowers in all the worlds condensed into one small but perfect bloom were not so sweet as she. So the other man more than ever wished to rule in her fairyland--with her."

"No, no," she cried, detecting the prohibited note, "you must not speak so." Her hands crumpled the morsel of cobweb and lace she had for handkerchief. Carried away with her proximity, however, he would not now be denied.

"This is but a fairy-story, d.u.c.h.ess. Oh, Fairy Queen, could you not find a kingdom for the other man in fairyland--a kingdom with you as Queen?"

His naked soul was laying pleading hands upon her quivering heart. She turned away, unable to withstand the suppliance of his eyes.

"You do not know what you ask," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely. Then vehemently spurring her resolve into a gallop, she added, "When the King is crowned in Schallberg, I become his wife."

"Suppose he isn't," he urged doggedly.

"Oh, no," she cried brokenly, "don't make me a traitor to my country's hopes. Don't make me wish for failure."

Unwittingly her words confessed her love for Carter. Grimly forcing her weakness back into her secret heart, she turned a calm front to him once again.

"Enough of fairy-stories, Major Carter," she said. "We live in a workaday world where the 'little people' have no place. All of us have our duties to perform. If some be less pleasant than others it is no excuse for not fulfilling them to the uttermost. We have a hard day before us. With His Majesty's permission, therefore, I will retire for the night." She arose as she said this, so Carter had no other alternative than to follow her into the royal presence.

From a balcony at the far end of the room, crept a faint note of music.

The players were carefully concealed behind banked palms and gigantic ferns. To the surprised ears of those unaware of their presence it came first as a single note, then a chord, a stave, a vibrant meaning. It was like a distant bugle call across a midnight plain. It swelled into a challenge.

Then, echoing the hoof beats of horses, it swept into a glorious charge.

All the invisible instruments crashed valorously into their fullest sounds. The arteries of the listeners throbbed a response to its inspiration. Trusia, her eyes gleaming like twin stars, laid her hand softly on the royal arm.

"Oh, sire," she cried, "it is our nation's battle song."

Carter sighed. He saw that her loyalty would hold her to an alliance against her heart.

Possessed by the ardor of the song, the n.o.bles, drawing their swords, cried in ecstatic chorus, "For Krovitch! For Krovitch!" In their pandemonium of joy, Carter's distress was unnoted.

He could not longer endure the sight of the prophetic a.s.sociation; it seemed as if they were receiving nuptial felicitations as they stood there side by side, so with a heavy heart he crept up to his own apartment, where, at least, without stint, he could indulge his thoughts. After the brilliance of the salon, the single light in his room seemed puling and weak, so he crossed over and extinguished it. In doing so, he found himself near the window, which, opening to the floor, door wise, looked along the roof of the stone porch. A cooling sweep of moonlight fell on Carter's face and urged him to peace of soul. He never noticed the soft indulgence of Diana, for, as he glanced streetward, he recalled the incident of Josef and the stranger. Drawing an easy-chair into the zone of moonlight he lit a cigar and strove desperately to find a clue.

"Two fingers--that means two something, at first glance. Has it any further significance?" he pondered. "Of course it was prearranged, when and how--and does Sobieska know? If he doesn't, Josef has correspondents unknown to Krovitch--that alone looks dangerous. I'll look up Sobieska.

It's now twenty minutes of two," he said as he consulted his watch. A swift inspiration caused him suddenly to raise his head. "I've got it.

The house is all still now. Two--two--two o'clock, that's the solution.

They're to meet at two o'clock. Where? I can't wait for Sobieska, there's no time."