Part 4 (1/2)

The Castle gates were closed, and before them with drawn swords, stern and impa.s.sive, sat two huge Cuira.s.siers of the Guard; they heard the nearing hoof beats, and, over the heads of the crowd that hung about the entrance, they saw and understood.

”Stand back!” they cried; ”stand back-the Princess comes!”

And the gates swung open, and the big sorrel horse, reeking with sweat and flecked with foam and dust, flashed by, and on across the courtyard.

And Colonel Moore, who was about to ride away, sprang down and swung her out of saddle.

”Take me to him,” she said quietly, as he stood aside to let her pa.s.s.

She swayed slightly at the first step, and her legs seemed strangely stiff and heavy, but she slipped her hand through his arm and drove herself along. And so he led her, calm and dry-eyed, down the long corridor and through the ante-room to the King's chamber, and all who met them bowed head and drew back. At the threshold she halted.

”Do you please bid all retire,” she said. ”I would see my father alone.”

And when he had done her will, he came and held open the door for her a little way, then stood at attention and raised his hand in salute; and the Princess went in to her dead.

Meanwhile, the Archduke Armand was searching for the Princess. The moment he had seen the King at rest in the Castle, declining all escort, he had galloped away for the Summer Palace, first ordering that no information should be conveyed there by telephone. It was a message for him to deliver in person, though he shrank from it, as only a man can shrink from such a duty. But he knew nothing of the Cathedral bell and its tolling, and when, as he neared the Park, the first note broke upon him, he listened in surprise; then he grasped its meaning, and with an imprecation, spurred the faster, racing now with a brazen clapper as to which should tell the Princess first. And the sentry at the gate stared in wonder; but the officer on duty at the main entrance ran out to meet him, knowing instantly for whom the bell was tolling and for whom the Archduke came.

”Her Highness is not here,” he cried. ”She rode away alone by the North Avenue a short while ago.”

”Make report to the Castle the instant she returns,” Armand called, and was gone-to follow her, as he thought, on the old forge road.

”Ye G.o.ds!” the officer exclaimed, ”that was the King-the new King!” and mechanically he clicked his heels together and saluted.

Nor did he imagine that all unwittingly he had sent his master far astray; for the Princess had gone but a little way by the North Avenue, and then had circled over to the South gate.

And so Armand searched vainly, until at last, bearing around toward Dornlitz, he struck the main highway and learned that she had pa.s.sed long since, making for the Capital as fast as horse could run. And he knew that the Bell had been the messenger, and that there was now naught for him to do but to return with all speed and give such comfort as he might.

Though what to do or to say he had no idea-for never before had he been called upon to minister to a woman's grief; and he pondered upon it with a misgiving that was at its deepest when, at length, he stood outside her door and heard her bid the servant to admit him.

But if he looked for tears and trembling he was disappointed, for she met him as she had met those in the corridor and the ante-room, dry-eyed and calmly. And in silence he took her in his arms, and held her close, and stroked her s.h.i.+ning hair.

And presently she put his arms aside, and stepping back, she curtsied low and very gravely.

”Life to Your Majesty!” she said; ”long live the King!” and kissed his hand.

He raised her quickly. ”Never bend knee to me, Dehra,” he said. ”And believe me, I had quite forgot everything except that you had lost your father.”

She went back to him. ”And so had I, dear, until you came; but now, since he is gone, you are all I have-is it very selfish, then, for me to think of you so soon?”

He drew her to a chair and stood looking down at her.

”If it is,” he said, ”I am surely not the one to judge you.”

She shook her head sadly. ”There is no one to judge but-him,” she answered; ”and he, I know, would give me full approval.” She was silent for a while, her thoughts in the darkened room across the court, where the tapers burned dimly, and a Captain of the Guard kept watch. And her heart sobbed afresh, though her lips were mute and her eyes undimmed. At last she spoke.

”Is the Book of Laws at the Summer Palace or here?” she asked.

”I do not know,” said Armand, ”I have never seen it except the day that the King read old Henry's decree and offered me Hugo's t.i.tles and estates.”

”Well, at least, he spoke of it to you to-day.”