same care as those in the south, where conflict with Dawsbergen might first be expected. General Marlanx and his staff rested neither day nor night. The army of Graustark was ready. Underneath the castle’s gay exterior there smouldered the fire of battle, the tremor of defiance.
Late one afternoon Beverly Calhoun and Mrs. Anguish drove up in state to the Tower, wherein sat Dangloss and his watchdogs. The scowl left his face as far as nature would permit and he welcomed the ladies warmly.
“I came to ask about my friend, the goat-hunter,” said Beverly, her cheeks a trifle rosier than usual.
“He is far from an amiable person, your highness,” said the officer. When discussing Baldos he never failed to address Beverly as “your highness.” “The fever is gone and he is able to walk without much pain, but he is as restless as a witch. Following instructions, I have not questioned him concerning his plans, but I fancy he is eager to return to the hills.”
“What did he say when you gave him my message?” asked Beverly.
“Which one, your highness?” asked he, with tantalizing density.
“Why, the suggestion that he should come to Edelweiss for better treatment,” retorted Beverly severely.
“He said he was extremely grateful for your kind offices, but he did not deem it advisable to come to this city. He requested me to thank you in his behalf and to tell you that he will never forget what you have done for him.”
“And he refuses to come to Edelweiss?” irritably demanded Beverly.
“Yes, your highness. You see, he still regards himself with disfavor, being a fugitive. It is hardly fair to blame him for respecting the security of the hills.”
“I hoped that I might induce him to give up his old life and engage in something perfectly honest, although, mind you, Baron Dangloss, I do not question his integrity in the least. He should have a chance to prove himself worthy, that’s all. This morning I petitioned Count Marlanx to give him a place in the Castle Guard.”
“My dear Miss Calhoun, the princess has—” began the captain.
“Her highness has sanctioned the request,” interrupted she.
“And the count has promised to discover a vacancy,” said Dagmar, with a smile that the baron understood perfectly well.
“This is the first time on record that old Marlanx has ever done anything to oblige a soul save himself. It is wonderful, Miss Calhoun. What spell do you Americans cast over rock and metal that they become as sand in your fingers?” said the baron, admiration and wonder in his eyes.
“You dear old flatterer,” cried Beverly, so warmly that he caught his breath.
“I believe that you can conquer even that stubborn fellow in Ganlook,” he said, fumbling with his glasses. “He is the most obstinate being I know, and yet in ten minutes you could bring him to terms, I am sure. He could not resist you.”
“He still thinks I am the princess?”
“He does, and swears by you.”
“Then, my mind is made up. I’ll go to Ganlook and bring him back with me, willy-nilly. He is too good a man to be lost in the hills. Good-bye, Baron Dangloss. Thank you ever and ever so much. Oh, yes; will you write an order delivering him over to me? The hospital people may be—er—disobliging, you know.”
“It shall be in your highness’s hands this evening.”
The next morning, with Colonel Quinnox and a small escort, Beverly Calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for Ganlook, accompanied by faithful Aunt Fanny. She carried the order from Baron Dangloss and a letter from Yetive to the Countess Rallowitz, insuring hospitality over night in the northern town. Lorry and the royal household entered merrily into her project, and she went away with the godspeeds of all. The Iron Count himself rode beside her coach to the city gates, an unheard-of condescension.
“Now, you’ll be sure to find a nice place for him in the castle guard, won’t you, Count Marlanx?” she said at the parting, her hopes as fresh as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. The count promised faithfully, even eagerly. Colonel Quinnox, trained as he was in the diplomacy of silence, could scarcely conceal his astonishment at the conquest of the hard old warrior.
Although the afternoon was well spent before Beverly reached Ganlook, she was resolved to visit the obdurate patient at once, relying upon her resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for Edelweiss on the following morning. The coach delivered her at the hospital door in grand style. When the visitor was ushered into the snug little room of the governor’s office, her heart was throbbing and her composure was undergoing a most unusual strain. It annoyed her to discover that the approaching contact with an humble goat-hunter was giving her such unmistakable symptoms of perturbation.
From an upstairs window in the hospital the convalescent but unhappy patient witnessed her approach and arrival. His sore, lonely heart gave a bound of joy, for the days had seemed long since her departure.
He had had time to think during these days, too. Turning over in his mind all of the details in connection with their meeting and their subsequent intercourse, it began to dawn upon him that she might not be what she assumed to be. Doubts assailed him, suspicions grew into amazing forms of certainty. There were times when he laughed sardonically at himself for being taken in by this strange but charming young woman, but through it all his heart and mind were being drawn more and more fervently toward her. More than once he called himself a fool and more than once he dreamed foolish dreams of her—princess or not. Of one thing he was sure: he had come to love the adventure for the sake of what it promised and there was no bitterness beneath his suspicions.
Arrayed in clean linen and presentable clothes, pale from indoor confinement and fever, but once more the straight and strong cavalier of the hills, he hastened into her presence when the summons came for him to descend. He dropped to his knee and kissed her hand, determined to play the game, notwithstanding his doubts. As he arose she glanced for a flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped.
“Your highness!” he said gratefully.
“How well and strong you look,” she said hurriedly. “Some of the tan is gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. Are you quite recovered?”
“They say I am as good as new,” he smilingly answered. “A trifle weak and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you and Graustark? They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know.”
“Turn about is fair play, sir. It is a well-established fact that you will give them no news. Yes, all is well with me and mine. Were you beginning to think that I had deserted you? It has been two weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Ah, your highness, I realize that you have had much more important things to do than to think of poor Baldos, I am exceedingly grateful for this sign of interest in my welfare. Your visit is the brightest experience of my life.”
“Be seated!” she cried suddenly. “You are too ill to stand.”
“Were I dying I should refuse to be seated while your highness stands,” said he simply. His shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching a sword-hilt. Beverly sat down
