Part 8 (2/2)
”If I were not a goat-hunter I should have starved long ago,” he said. ”Why do you doubt me?”
”Simply because you treat me one moment as if I were a princess, and the next as if I were a child. Humble goat-hunters do not forget their station in life.”
”I have much to learn of the deference due to queens,” he said.
”That's just like 'The Mikado' or 'Pinafore,'” she exclaimed.” I believe you are a comic-opera brigand or a pirate chieftain, after all.”
”I am a lowly outcast,” he smiled.
”Well, I've decided to take you into Edelweiss and--”
”Pardon me, your highness,” he said firmly, ”That cannot be. I shall not go to Edelweiss.”
”But I command you--”
”It's very kind of you, but I cannot enter a hospital--not even at Ganlook. I may as well confess that I am a hunted man and that the instructions are to take me dead or alive.”
”Impossible!” she gasped, involuntarily shrinking from him.
”I have wronged no man, yet I am being hunted down as though I were a beast,” he said, his face turning haggard for the moment. ”The hills of Graustark, the plateaus of Axphain and the valleys of Dawsbergen are alive with men who are bent on ending my unhappy but inconvenient existence. It would be suicide for me to enter any one of your towns or cities. Even you could not protect me, I fear,”
”This sounds like a dream. Oh, dear me, you don't look like a hardened criminal,” she cried.
”I am the humble leader of a faithful band who will die with me when the time comes. We are not criminals, your highness. In return for what service I may have performed for you, I implore you to question me no further. Let me be your slave up to the walls of Ganlook, and then you may forget Baldos, the goat-hunter.”
”I never can forget you,” she cried, touching his injured arm gently. ”Will you forget the one who gave you this wound?”
”It is a very gentle wound, and I love it so that I pray it may never heal.” She looked away suddenly.
”Tell me one thing,” she said, a mist coming over her eyes. ”You say they are hunting you to the death. Then--then your fault must be a grievous one. Have you--have you killed a man?” she added hastily. He was silent for a long time.
”I fear I have killed more than one man,” he said in low tones. Again she shrank into the corner of the coach. ”History says that your father was a brave soldier and fought in many battles,” he went on.
”Yes,” she said, thinking of Major George Calhoun.
”He killed men then, perhaps, as I have killed them,” he said.
”Oh, my father never killed a man!” cried Beverly, in devout horror.
”Yet Graustark reveres his mighty prowess on the field of battle,” said he, half laconically.
”Oh,” she murmured, remembering that she was now the daughter of Yetive's father. ”I see. You are not a--a--a mere murderer, then?”
”No. I have been a soldier--that is all.”
”Thank heaven!” she murmured, and was no longer afraid of him. ”Would--would a pardon be of any especial benefit to you?” she asked, wondering how far her influence might go with the Princess Yetive.
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