Part 12 (1/2)

When Miss Vance came into the corridor after she had reported this interview to Lucy, Jean swept her into her room and dragged the whole story from her. In fact the poor anxious lady was glad to submit it to the girl's shrewd hard sense.

”You told him that she was the uncontrolled mistress of her money!”

”It is the truth. I had to tell him the truth, my dear.”

”Yes, I suppose so, for he would have found it out anyhow.”

”I do feel,” panted Clara, ”as if I had put a dove into the claws of a vulture.”

”Not at all,” said Jean promptly. ”The little man has a heart, but an empty pocket. Was Lucy interested most in his love or his bargaining?”

”In neither, I think. She just went on painting, and said nothing.”

”Oh, she will decide the matter in time! She will bring her little intellect to bear on it as if it were a picnic for her Sunday-school cla.s.s!” Jean stood silent a while. ”Miss Vance,” she said suddenly, ”let me engineer this affair for a few days. I can help you.”

”What do you propose to do, Jean?”

”To leave Bozen to-morrow. For Munich.”

”But the Wolfburghs have a palace or--something in Munich. Is it quite delicate for us----”

”It is quite rational. Let us see what the something is. So far in our dealings with princ.i.p.alities and powers, we have had a stout little man--with no background.” The prince was startled when he was told of this sudden journey, but declared that he would follow them to-morrow.

Lucy, as usual, asked no questions, but calmly packed her satchel.

As the little train, the next day, lumbered through the valley of the Eisach, she sat in her corner, reading a newspaper. Miss Vance dozed, or woke with a start to lecture on points of historic interest.

”Why don't you look, Lucy? That monastery was a Roman fortress in the third century. And you are missing the color effects of the vineyards.”

”I can look now. I have finished my paper.” Lucy folded it neatly and replaced it in her bag. ”I have read the Delaware State Sun,” she said triumphantly, ”regularly, every week since we left home. When I go back I shall be only seven days behind with the Wilmington news.”

Jean glanced at her contemptuously. ”Look at that great castle on yonder mountain,” she said. ”You could lodge a village inside of the ramparts. Do you think Wolfburgh Schloss is like that? The prince told us last night,” turning to Miss Vance, ”the old legends about his castle. The first Wolfburgh was a t.i.tan about the time of Noah, and married a human wife, and with his hands tore open the mountain for rocks to lay the foundation of his house. According to his story there were no end of giants and trolls and kings concerned in the building of it,” she went on, furtively watching the deepening pink in Lucy's cheek. ”The Wolfburgh of Charlemagne's day was besieged by him, and another entertained St. Louis and all his crusaders within the walls.”

Jean's voice rose shrilly and her eyes glowed. She leaned forward, looking eagerly across the fields. ”The prince told us that the Schloss of his race had for centuries been one of the great fortresses of Christendom. And here it is! Now we shall see--we shall see!”

The car stopped. The guard opened the door and Miss Vance and Lucy suddenly found themselves swept by Jean on to the platform, while the little train rumbled on down the valley. Miss Vance cried out in dismay.

”Never mind. There will be another train in a half hour,” said Jean.

”Here is the Schloss,” pointing to a pepper-box tower neatly whitewashed, which rose out of a huge ma.s.s of broken stone. ”And here, I suppose, is the capital of the kingdom over which the Wolfburghs now reign feudal lords?”

Clara found herself against her will looking curiously at the forge, the dirty shop, the tiny bier-halle, and a half a dozen huts, out of which swarmed a few old women and children.

”Where are the men of this village?” Jean demanded of the station master, a stout old man with a pipe in his mouth.

”Gone to America, for the most part,” he said, with a shrug.

Lucy came up hastily, an angry glitter in her soft eyes. ”You have no right to make me play the spy in this way!” she said haughtily, and going into the little station sat down with her back to the door.

”You? It is I--I----” muttered Jean breathlessly. ”And who lives in the tower, my good man? It is not big enough for a dozen hens.” She slipped a florin into his hand.