The Princess Elopes Part 17

"And answer them?"--growing bolder.

"It is easily seen that you are a diplomat. Yes, I shall answer them.

Heigh-ho! I shall miss my rides." What a brave little woman she was!

Finally we started for the station, and I saw her to the gates. We shook hands, and I was sure I felt a very friendly pressure; and then she disappeared. There was altogether a different feeling in my heart as I watched _her_ train draw out. Eh, well, the world is small and England is smaller, even as she had said. It's a mighty fine world, when you get the proper angle of vision.

IX

There was very little light in the compartment into which Max had so successfully dived. Some one had turned down the wicks of the oil lamps which hung suspended between the luggage-racks above, and the gloom was notable rather than subdued. So far as he was concerned he was perfectly contented; his security was all the greater. He pressed his face against the window and peered out. The lights of the city flashed by, and finally grew few and far between, and then came the blackness of the country. It would take an hour and a half to cross the frontier, and there would be no stop this side, for which he was grateful. He swore, mumbling. To have come all this way to study, and then to leg it in this ignominious fashion! It was downright scandalous! Whoever heard of such laws? Of course he had been rather silly in pulling his gun, for even in the United States--where he devoutly wished himself at that moment--it was a misdemeanor to carry concealed weapons. He felt of his cheek. He would return some day, and if it was the last thing he ever did, he would slash that lieutenant's cheeks. The insolent beggar! To be struck and not to strike back! He choked.

Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he cast about.

"The deuce!" he muttered.

He was not alone. Huddled in the far corner was a woman heavily veiled. Young or old, he could not tell. She sat motionless, and appeared to be looking out of the opposite window. Well, so long as she did not bother him he would not bother her. But he would much rather have been alone.

He took out his pa.s.sport and tried to read it. It was impossible. So he rose, steadied himself, and turned up the wick of one of the lamps.

He did not hear the m.u.f.fled exclamation which came from the other end.

He dropped back upon the cushion and began to read. So he was George Ellis, an American student in good standing; he was aged twenty-nine, had blue eyes, light hair, was six feet tall, and weighed one hundred and fifty-four pounds. Ha! he had, then, lost thirty pounds in as many minutes? At this rate he wouldn't cast a shadow when he struck Dresden. He had studied three years at the college; but what the deuce had he studied? If they were only asleep at the frontier! He returned the doc.u.ment to his pocket, and as he did so his fingers came into contact with the purse he had picked up in the road that morning--Hildegarde von Heideloff. What meant Fate in crossing _her_ path with his? He had been perfectly contented in mind and heart before that first morning ride; and here he was, sighing like a furnace. She had been merely pretty on Monday, on Tuesday she had been handsome, on Wednesday she had been adorable; now she was the most beautiful woman that ever lived. (Ah, the progressive adjective, that litany of love!) Alas! it was quite evident that she had pa.s.sed out of his life as suddenly and mysteriously as she had entered it. He would keep the purse as a souvenir, and some day, when he was an old man, he would open it.

There is something compelling in the human eye, a magnetism upon which Science has yet to put her cold and unromantic finger. Have you never experienced the sensation that some [Transcriber's note: someone?] was looking at you? Doubtless you have. Well, Max presently turned his glance toward his silent fellow traveler. She had lifted her veil and was staring at him with wondering, fearing eyes. These eyes were somewhat red, as if the little bees of grief had stung them.

"You!" he cried, the blood thumping into his throat. He tossed his hat to the floor and started for her end of the compartment.

She held up a hand as if to ward off his approach. "I can hear perfectly," she said; "it is not needful that you should come any nearer."

He sat down confused. He could not remember when his heart had beaten so irregularly.

"May I ask how you came to enter this compartment?" she asked coldly.

"I jumped in,"--simply. What was to account for this strange att.i.tude?

"So I observe. What I meant was, by what right?"

"It happened to be the only door at hand, and I was in a great hurry."

Where was his usual collectedness of thought? He was embarra.s.sed and angry at the knowledge.

"Did you follow me?" Her nostrils were palpitating and the corners of her mouth were drawn aggressively.

"Follow you?" amazed that such an idea should enter into her head.

"Why, you are the last person I ever expected to see again. Indeed, you are only a fairy-story; there is, I find, no such person as Hildegarde von Heideloff." Clearly he was recovering.

"I know it,"--candidly. "It was my mother's name, and I saw fit to use it." She really hoped he _hadn't_ followed her.

"You had no need to use it, or any name, for that matter. When I gave you my name it was given in good faith. The act did not imply that I desired to know yours."

"But you did!"--imperiously.

"Yes. Curiosity is the brain of our mental anatomy." When Max began to utter tall phrases it was a sign of even-balanced mentality.

"And if I hadn't told you my name, you would have asked for it."

"Not the first day."

"Well, you would have on Tuesday."

"Not a bit of a doubt." He certainly wouldn't show her how much he cared. (What was she doing in this carriage? She had said nothing that morning about traveling.)

"Well, you will admit that under the circ.u.mstances I had the right to give any name it pleased me to give."

He came over to her end and sat down. Her protests (half-hearted) he ignored.

"I can not see very well from over there," he explained.

"It is not necessary that you should see; you can hear what I have to say."

"Very well; I'll go back." And he did. He made a fine pretense of looking out of the window. Why should this girl cross his path at this unhappy moment?

There was a pause.

"You are not near so nice as you were this morning," she said presently.

"I can't be nice and sit away over here."

"What made you jump into this compartment, of all others?"

"I wasn't particular what compartment I got into so long as I got into one. As I said, I was in a hurry."

"You said nothing this morning about going away from Barscheit."

"Neither did you."

Another pause. (I take it, from the character of this dialogue, that their morning rides must have been rather interesting.)

"You told me that you were in Barscheit to study nerves,"--wickedly.

"So thought I, up to half-past nine to-night; but it appears that I am not,"--gloomily.

"You are running away, too?"--with suppressed eagerness.

"Running away, too!" he repeated. "Are _you_ running away?"

"As fast as ever the train can carry me. I am on the way to Dresden."