The Princess Dehra Part 20

"A million-for your hearts," she answered, and ran quickly down the steps.

Meanwhile the Duke of Lotzen, pa.s.sing along the lower corridor, had caught, in a mirror, the reflection of the scene on the stairs, and had paused to watch it.

"A pretty picture, Mademoiselle; truly, a pretty picture," he said, as they met; "and most charming from the rear-and below-oh! most charming."

Her cheeks and brow went red as flame, as she caught his meaning.

"You vile peeper," she exclaimed; "doubtless, you're an experienced judge," and dropping the parasol in his face, nor caring that the silk struck him, she hurried by.

The Duke looked after her contemplatively. Really, this girl was worth while-he must take a hand in the Irishman's game-that hair, those eyes, that walk, that figure-oh, decidedly, she was quite worth while.

With an evil little laugh, he put her out of his mind, for the moment, and turned toward the terrace and to business. He had learned of the alfresco luncheon near the pergola, and he appreciated that there was the place to make the first move in his new plot.

Yet when, from the sun-dial, as he feigned to study it, he saw the Princess, through the rhododendrons-with the American across the table from her, where he himself ought to have been; and watched her lavish upon Armand the adorable smile that should have been his; and knew, afresh, that, come what may, the glorious woman yonder was lost to him forever-his anger welled so high he dared not risk a meeting, lest in his rage he wreck his cause completely. So he braced his shoulders against the fierce desire that tugged him toward them, and went on, giving no glance aside.

Then the Princess called him; and when the only voice able, hitherto, to touch a soft chord in his heart, struck now a jarring dissonance, the fury pa.s.sed; and again he was the man of cold, calm hate and ruthless purpose. So he turned aside, and to his enemies-her and the foreigner-deliberating how to make his play quickly, yet naturally and with seeming inadvertence. The faintest blunder would be fatal with Courtney watching; Armand he despised.

And at Dehra's sudden question, he had almost laughed aloud-was it always to be so easy! But he bound his face to his part, and made his answer, and went his way; whistling softly, and all unknowingly, a little song, that a slender, sinuous woman, with raven hair and dead-white cheek, had sung to him in the North.

And when, presently, it came to him whose the song was, and where he had heard it, he laughed gaily.

"An omen!" he said aloud, "an omen! On to Lotzenia-and a dead Archduke."

X A QUESTION OF VENEER

The Archduke Armand tossed the end of his fourth cigar into the grate and looked at the big clock in the corner. It was only a bit after eleven, and that was, he knew by experience, the blush of the evening at the American Emba.s.sy, where there were no women-folk to repress the youngsters nor to necessitate the closing of the house at conventional hours. Courtney had only bachelors in his official family; and he housed them all with him in the big residence on Alta Avenue, and gave them free rein to a merry life, fully a.s.sured they would not abuse the liberty; he had known every one of them as boys, and their fathers before them.

The Archduke reached over and pressed a b.u.t.ton.

"Bring me a cap and a light cape," he said to the servant;-"and a stick."

The man went out, and Armand crossed to a window and drew aside the curtain.

"Put them on a chair," he said without looking around, as the door opened again. "You may go."

The door closed. For a little while he watched the gay street, stretching southward for half a mile to the center of the city, where the lights blazed variegatedly and brightest. The theatres had tossed out their crowds, and below him the van of the carriage column was hurrying homeward, to the fashionable district out the Avenue, or to the Hanging Garden above the Lake. Occasionally a face, usually a woman's, would lean close to the door and look at the Epsau curiously-it housed the man who was likely to be King. And the man smiled with half bitter cynicism, and wondered what words followed the look, and who spoke them, and to whom.

Once, he recognized Count Epping's lean visage, and in that carriage, at least, he felt that the words were friendly; a moment later, the snake eyes of Baron Retz went glittering by-but never a glance did he turn aside.

"You little reptile," the Archduke muttered aloud, "you ought to crawl, not ride."

He dropped the curtain and turned away-then stopped, and his lips softened; and presently he laughed. Just inside the door, and standing stiffly at attention, was Colonel Bernheim, holding the cape and cap and stick the servant had been sent for.

"Now what's the trouble?" Armand demanded.

"Your Highness desired these?" said Bernheim.

"Yes-but I didn't send for you." The tone was very kindly.

"But you are going out, sir?"

"Yes."

"And I'm on duty to-night."

"You're excused-go to bed."

The old soldier shook his head. "I'm going with you."

"Nonsense," said Armand, "nonsense! I'm for only a short walk up the Avenue."

"I must go with you, sir," the Aide insisted.

The Archduke looked at him in some surprise.

"Positively, Bernheim," he said, "if you keep this up you will have nervous prostration. Quit it, man, quit it." He flung on the cape, and taking cap and cane went toward the door. "Good night."

The Colonel stood aside, hand at the salute. "Your pardon, sir-but I must go with you-it is the Regent's personal order."

"What!"

"She telephoned me this evening always to see that you had an escort, after dark."

The Archduke sat on the end of the writing-table and laughed until the tears came-and even old Bernheim condescended to emit, at intervals, a grim sort of chuckle.

"What hour are you to put me to bed, nurse?" Armand asked.

"The orders did not run to that point, sir,"-with a louder chuckle-"but I should say not later than midnight."

"Then I've a few minutes' grace, and I'll spend them playing on the sidewalk, while you warm the sheets and get the milk," and with another laugh he went out. "Don't forget the milk," he added over his shoulder.

Bernheim held open the door.

"I'll not, sir," he said, and followed him.

At the street, Armand stopped.

"Where are you going, Colonel?" he asked.

The heels clicked together and the hand went up.

"For the milk, sir."

He recognized the futility of further opposition; with the Regent's command to sustain him, Bernheim would not be denied.

"Come, along, then," he ordered-"and if they have a cow at the American Emba.s.sy I'll set you to milking it, or I'm a sailor."