Trusia Part 12

Presently, after having sufficiently watched the rings of smoke flatten themselves against a black, studded rafter, Carter gave a slight rein to his speculations.

"Why," he said, holding up his cigarette to gaze squintingly at the ember at its head, "why is the Count Sobieska antagonistic to Josef?"

Zulka stretched himself further back in his heavy chair. Very much at his ease, he could have dispensed with questions just then.

"Professional jealousy, I suppose," he replied. "When it comes to knowledge of Russian movements," he went on to explain, "that's Sobieska's department, mind you, but somehow Josef is always hours ahead of him through some source of his own. Naturally Sobieska takes the chance to rub a miscue in on the old chap."

"Why should he be interested in Carrick's antecedents, Paul?"

"Cal, you are like the youngster, who after exhausting all other questions, asked his dazed parent, 'Father, why is why?' Tell me all that happened," he said, seeing the slightly nettled expression on his friend's face. "You see the circus was all over before I arrived."

Carter related the affair from the time of their first meeting with Josef, at that very inn, to the time when Zulka's timely appearance put an end to their trial. "The rest you know," he concluded.

Zulka opened his cigarette case, selected one and after knocking the end of it two or three times against the metal lid without putting it in his mouth, looked up at his friend. "Cal, I'm afraid I've given you the idea that Sobieska is incompetent. That is not so. The fact is, he is devilish deep and clever. He never lets up once he has struck a trail.

He's probably hit on something now that he thinks should be investigated. By the way, how's Saunderson of the Racquet?" So the conversation drifted.

Their mutual friends in New York had included many women of gentle birth with whom Paul Zulka had always been more or less of a favorite.

Concerning these, individually and collectively, Carter's replies to his friend's inquiries had been equally frank and responsive.

"So you left no sweetheart behind, Cal?"

"No, Paul. I'd not leave a sweetheart. I'd make her my wife."

"In the face of a conge?"

"You ought to know me better. I never take 'no' for an answer." Carter's pride glowed in his face as he made this reply.

"The d.u.c.h.ess of Schallberg," announced Zulka, "will marry the King of Krovitch to unite the two houses. She has pledged herself." This seemingly irrelevant announcement was made through a swirling cloud of smoke.

"So?" Carter strove to make his reply partake of easy nonchalance, but his throat tightened so that he could feel his face go red and hot. It was as if Paul had intimated that he, Calvert Carter, would seek and be refused by the d.u.c.h.ess of Schallberg. He was thankful the Krovitzer was not looking just then.

Had he been wise, Carter would have said no more. But failing to emphasize his disinterestedness, he added to his monosyllabic exclamation a query in a studied tone of unconcern.

"What's that got to do with us, old chap?"

Zulka leaned forward confidentially as he laid a friendly hand upon the other's knee.

"She's for neither you nor me, Cal," he said regretfully. "She must marry a man she has never seen for the sake of a country that she adores. Without this submission on her part we could count on no united Krovitch. Our country worships her and will follow no king who will not seat her upon his throne. Get that angel face out of your heart. Deafen your ears to her voice before, like me, you try too late. Oh, I know, I saw," he hastened on as Carter would have stopped him, "love makes all eyes keen. You love Trusia."

As the significance of the last remark went home, Carter sat as one stunned. The perspiration gathered slowly in great beads on his forehead. He hung his head gloomily; his face went pale. It seemed, suddenly, that life, ever a pleasant vista to him, had built a wall before his eyes, unscalable, opaque.

Then he understood. A pain gripped his heart as the great truth came home to him.

"I do," he answered jerkily, for he was striving to keep a strong man's grip on his soul. Slowly, however, the agony, defying him, triumphed.

"My G.o.d," he wailed in surrender, "it is true though I never realized it till now." That was all he said, but with blind hands he groped for fellowship and welcomed Zulka's responsive grip of steel.

Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze out upon darkness until his own night pa.s.sed from him sufficiently to enable him to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly.

From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned a high-held, stern, white face upon Zulka.

"Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end. If Krovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses, our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will be Trusia first, then."

"It will always be Trusia," said Zulka.

Carter nodded his understanding.

"Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. We must dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."

XII

CARTER FINDS AN ALLY

The haut n.o.bility of Krovitch were present at the Ducal reception that night. Glittering uniforms, with a plentiful supply of feminine silks and sparkling jewels, made even the gray old halls of the castle take on a warmer, gladder note. But to Carter, with an aching heart hidden behind a smiling countenance, the gaiety seemed forced, the colors glaring; while to his questing eyes all faces appeared blank surfaces, save one.

She was talking to a wisp of a golden-haired girl, whom he afterward learned was Zulka's cousin, the daughter of the plump Holder of the Purse. Apparently Trusia had not yet noticed his entrance, but why should she?

Had he been gifted with omnipresence, however, he would have heard her say to her companion, "That is he. The one in dress suit. No, stupid, not the short man in black and gold, but the strapping big fellow who holds his head like some ancient paladin."

"Oh," her companion had answered impulsively, as she finally singled Carter out from the throng about the entrance, "he is fine, Highness.

I'm going to fall in love with him. I'm sure I am. Do you mind, Tru?"

she teased, with the intuitive s.e.x-given perception that her royal chum felt at least a pa.s.sing interest in the handsome stranger. The d.u.c.h.ess made no immediate reply to her friend, but gazed resolutely in a direction opposite to the one from which she knew Carter was approaching. Even predestined queens are not averse to stately coquetry.

"No, Natalie," she finally condescended to reply, "why should I, dear?"

She smiled affectionately down on the sweet face before her. "I envy you, child, that you may love where you please," she added gently.

"Oh," said Natalie. The little maid of honor changed front with ready sympathy. "I might have known you could not faint in his arms, be brought home by him, rescue him from jail, without feeling some interest in him. He's coming this way, Highness," she added in a confidential undertone as if Trusia had not already divined the fact through the back of her regal little head. Nevertheless, the d.u.c.h.ess achieved a very natural surprise as Calvert Carter presented himself before her.

He was duly presented to the golden-haired girl and apprised of her kinship to his friend Paul, who had already entered into conversation with Her Grace of Schallberg. Carter found a temporary distraction from his unearned wounds in listening to her cheery prattle and answering her light queries about the wilderness she imagined his country to be, just beyond the environs of the munic.i.p.alities. Their group was constantly augmented by fresh arrivals, so the conversation grew general, and Carter had no opportunity except for a chance word now and then with the woman to whom he had silently yielded his heart. Enthusiastic young officers, cadets of ancient lineage, boasted hopefully of the efforts which they would make to restore the fatherland to its place among the great nations of the world. Even Natalie was soon claimed by an admiring young hussar glittering in black and gold, and Carter found himself alone for the nonce. He suddenly remembered a forgotten duty, and the possibility of its performance was now causing him some perplexity.

"You look troubled, Captain Carter," said Trusia, at his elbow. "Is there anything we can do?"

He smiled gratefully. "Yes, Highness," he responded eagerly. "I was just cudgeling my brains for a suitable form in which to present my request."

"It is----"

"Permission to cable my address in the morning to my New York agent."

"It is granted," she said. "A messenger will leave at seven to-morrow morning for Vienna. I will have Josef call with him in the morning. I need scarcely caution you not to refer to the state of affairs here."

"You have my word, Highness," he answered.

"I could ask for no better guaranty," she commented sweetly.

If Carter was distrustful of the emissary she had chosen, he was well aware that his vague misgivings would find no other reception than coldness did he even dare to hint at them. He turned to find Sobieska's look of pseudo-indolence upon him.