The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon
“Let us find some one who can understand us,” advised Lorry, and in a few moments they presented themselves before the guards, accompanied by a young nobleman with whom they had acquaintance. He succeeded in advancing them to the reception hall inside the doors and found for them a servant who would carry a message to the Princess if it were possible to gain her presence. The nobleman doubted very much, however, if the missive hastily written by Lorry could find its way to her, as she had never been so occupied as now.
Lorry, in his brief note, prayed for a short audience for himself and Mr. Anguish, requesting that Count Halfont be present. He informed her that his mission was of the most imperative nature and that it related to a discovery made concerning the Prince who had tried to abduct her. In conclusion, he wrote that Baron Dangloss had required him to lay certain facts before her and that he had come with no intention to annoy her.
While they sat in the waiting room they saw, through the glass doors, dozens of richly attired men and women in the hall beyond. They were conversing animatedly, Graustark men and women with dejected faces, Axphainians with exultation glowing in every glance. Lorry’s heart sank within him. It seemed hours before the servant returned to bid them follow him. Then his blood leaped madly through veins that had been chilled and lifeless. He was to see Her again!
Their guide conducted them to a small anteroom, where he left them. A few moments later the door opened and there swept quickly into the room—the Countess Dagmar, not the Princess. Her face was drawn with the trouble and sorrow she was trying so hard to conceal. Both men were on their feet in an instant, advancing to meet her.
“The Princess? Is she ill?” demanded Lorry.
“Not ill, but mad, I fear,” answered she, giving a hand to each. “Mr. Lorry, she bids me say to you that she cannot see you. She appreciates the importance of your mission and thanks you for the interest you have taken.
“Also, she authorizes me to assure you that nothing can be done at present regarding the business on which you come.”
“She refuses to see us,” said he, slowly, his face whiter than ever.
“Nay; she begs that you will excuses her. Her Highness is sorely worn and distressed today, and I fear cannot endure all that is happening. She is apparently calm and composed, but I, who know her so well, can see the strain beneath.”
“Surely she must see the urgency of quick action in this matter of ours,” cried Anguish half angrily. “We are not dogs to be kicked out of the castle. We have a right to be treated fairly—”
“We cannot censure the Princess, Harry,” said Lorry, calmly. “We have come because we would befriend her, and she sees fit to reject our good offices. There is but one thing left for us to do—depart as we came.”
“But I don’t like it a little bit,” growled the other.
“If you only knew, Mr. Anguish, you would not be so harsh and unjust,” remonstrated the lady, warmly. Turning to Lorry she said: “She asked me to hand you this and to bid you retain it as a token of her undying esteem.”
She handed him a small, exquisite miniature of the Princess, framed in gold inlaid with rubies. He took it dumbly in his fingers, but dared not look at the portrait it contained. With what might have seemed disrespect he dropped the treasure into his coat pocket.
“Tell her I shall always retain it as a token’ of her—esteem,” he said. “And now may I ask whether she handed my note to her uncle, the Count?”
The Countess blushed in a most unaccountable manner.
“Not while I was with her,” she said, recovering the presence of mind she apparently had lost.
“She destroyed it, I presume,” said he, laughing harshly.
“I saw her place it in her bosom, sir, and with the right hand,” cried the Countess, as if betraying a state secret.
“In her—you are telling me the truth?” cried he, his face lighting up.
“Now, see here, Lorry, don’t begin to question the Countess’s word. I won’t stand for that,” interposed Anguish, good-humoredly.
“I should be more than base to say falsely that she had done anything so absurd,” said the Countess, indignantly.
“Where is she now?” asked Lorry.
“In her boudoir. The Prince Lorenz is with her—alone.”
“What!” he cried, jealousy darting into his existence. He had never known jealousy before.
“They are betrothed,” said she, with an effort. There was a dead silence, broken by Lorry’s deep groan as he turned and walked blindly to the opposite side of the room. He stopped in front of a huge painting and stared at it, but did not see a line or a tint.
“You don’t mean to say she has accepted?” half whispered Anguish.
“Nothing less.”
“Thank God, you are only a Countess,” he said, tenderly.
“Why—why—what difference can it make! I mean, why do you say that?” she stammered, crimson to her hair.
“Because you won’t have to sell yourself at a sacrifice,” he said, foolishly. Lorry came back to them at this juncture, outwardly calm and deliberate.
“Tell us about it, pray. We had guessed as much.”
“Out there are his people,—the wretches!” she cried, vindictively, her pretty face in a helpless frown. “Today was the day, you know, on which he was to have his answer. He came and knelt in the audience chamber. All Graustark had implored her to refuse the hated offer, but she bade him rise, and there, before us all; promised to become his bride.
“The greatest sorrow Graustark has ever known grows out of that decision. She is determined to save for us what her father’s folly lost. To do this she becomes the bride of a vile wretch, a man who soils her pure nature when he thinks of her. Oh, we sought to dissuade her,—we begged, we entreated, but without avail. She will not sacrifice one foot of Graustark to save herself. See the triumphant smiles on their faces—the brutes!” She pointed maliciously to the chattering visitors in the hall. “Already they think the castle theirs. The union of Graustark and Axphain! Just what they most desired, but we could not make her see it so.”
“Is the day set?” asked Lorry, bravely, after a moments silent inspection of the dark-browed victors.
“Yes, and there is to be no delay. The marriage contract has already been signed. The date is November 20th, the day on which we are to account to Bolaroz for our war debt.
“The old Prince’s wedding gift to Graustark is to be a document favoring us with a ten years’ extension,” she said, scornfully.
“And where is she to live?”
“Here, of course. She is Graustark’s ruler, and here she insists on abiding. Just contemplate our court! Over-run with those Axphain dogs! Ah, she has wounded Graustark more than she has helped her.”
There was nothing more to be said or done, so, after a few moments, the Americans took their departure. The Countess bade them farewell, saying that she must return to the Princess.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Anguish, with rare assurance and the air of an old and indispensable friend.
“And you, Mr. Lorry?” she said, curiously.
“I am very much occupied,” he mumbled.
“You do wrong in seeking to deceive me,” she whispered, as Anguish passed through the door ahead of them. “I know why you do not come.”
“Has she told you?”
“I have guessed. Would that it could have been you and not the other.”
“One cannot be a man and a prince at the same time, I