Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 86, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 April 1915 — AT THE FRONTIER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AT THE FRONTIER

By Perley Poore Sheehan

(Copyright. The Frank A. Munsey Co.) he can keep on following us,” said Mlsb Draeon. “There’s no law against it, I suppose—not over here.” The tea, the music, even the clothes she wore, were all well calculated to soothe a feminine heart —especially one that could not have been more than twenty years old; but, as she gazed out over the terrace of Armenonville, with an elaborate pretense of recognizing no one in the fashionable throng, there was a dangerous sparkle in Miss Dracon’s eye. * „ . Her mother, a personification of American dollars and well preserved youth, looked at her with an indulgent smile. “His title is perfectly good,” she purged. “I looked it up—in the Almanach de Gotha, where only royal and—” “Look out! He’s coming over.” It had required no very keen vision on the part of Prince Frederick von Hohenstaufen to see the Dracons, mother and daughter. An omniscient head waiter, in the first place, with an eye to a ten-franc tip, had placed them at a table where all might see. And, in the second place, they were not the sort of people who escape observation. Great wealth, sagaciously used, stamps its possessors with an imprint as unmistakable as the sterling mark on solid plate. Prince Frederick was likewise noticeable, but otherwise. As he made his way, with a queer mingling of eagerness and anxiety visible in his face, through the perfumed, well-dressed, gayly chatting swarm of Parisians and foreign notables who were enjoying themselves in the Bois that afternoon, he suffered badly by comparison, in spite of his youth. So Miss Draeon thought. His features were smug and homely, giving his clean-shaven face an expression she associated vaguely with grocers or grooms. His skin was fresh enough, but exposure to the sun had

made it red in spots instead of giving it the even tan possessed by most of the other men she knew. And his clothes! They also reminded Miss Dracon vaguely of grocers and grooms, dressed up“Ah, Mrs. Dracon; again! Permit me to salute you." The prince had taken the tips of Mrs. Dracon’s fingers and lifting them ever so slightly, was performing the acrobatic feat of bending forward from the hips without flexing the knees. He had touched the fingers with his lips. “Ah, Miss Elizabeth!" He repeated the salute. “Sit down here with us, dear prince," said Mrs. Dracon. “Or, are you with friends? When did you leave America?" The heir of Hohenataufen dropped into the chair that a waiter had already poshed into position, gave one meaning look at Elizabeth Dracon, then turned once more to the older woman. “As soon as I learned you had gone, then I left," he said. Elizabeth bit her lip, while her mother smiled e&sily. “A coincidence,” said Mrs. Dracon. "A coincidence," conceded the prince, “but designed by me." He looked from mother to daughter. Mrs. Dracon was listening Intently, no doubt, although she had the air of one who is rather preocupied with something else. The daughter's eyes met his with ,the suspicion of a challenge in them. ; .ii Hadn't they settled this, once and

posed to her over to Philadelphia? “You see,” he said, with an effort at lightness, "I got to thinking over what Miss Elisabeth said to me about international marriages. I don’t see how It applies to ns. I know, that she is not crazy for a title—other than her own high-born name; and me, I’m not after—after money.” The red-coated band, responsive to a frenzied leader, was zinging and banging through a Hungarian rhapsody, giving promise that it would still be safe to talk about private matters for a long time to come. “Elizabeth told me that you had done her the honor*—” Mrs. Dracon began. , “Perhaps I should have spoken first to you,” said the prince, talking rapidly. "But I said, ‘This is America, where there must not be too much formality.’ Besides, I was crazy—crazy with love —as I have been ever since first I looked at her.” "No scene, please,” cautioned Elizabeth steadily. The band zinged louder. Her remark drew blood apparently. “It is true that I have debts,” the prince went on; "b|t they are the debts of my ancestors. I pay interest on them. No one expects more than that. They are like state debts—what you call national debt. A national debt 1b never paid. But why mention such things? It is you I love. You I followed again back to Europe.” "Will you have cream or lemon?” asked Elizabeth, suddenly remembering the tea things. “So why—why—will you not have me?” “Shall I go over it all once more?” asked Elizabeth, smiling but cruel. "I’ve seen enough of tlfese international marriages to make me sick. If I ever marry—which I doubt—l’ll marry an American. I’ll marry a man who can take care of me, just as though I didn't have a cent in the world; one who will work, accomplish something, be someone by his own efforts. Since you owe so much, by your own admission, why don’t you work and—” “Elizabeth!” Mrs. Dracon was scandalized, as she often was by this ultra-modern daughter of hers; but the prince was listening, sober, intent. "I can’t work, the way you mean,” said Prince Frederick' with bated breath. “I’m a Hohenstaufen. I belong to the empire. If it were not for that, there is nothing in the world I wouldn’t do to show you—show you how I love you. Even now, could I do so with honor, I’d blow out my brains—” "I’ve dropped my fan,” said Mrs. Dracon. The prince recovered it for her with a little laugh just as the music, with a succession of rippling, scales suggestive of a flight of butterflies, went up into the air and was silent.

Silent, also, for most of the time were Mrs. Dracon and her daughter as they drove home a little later through the high-arched allees of the Bois. They were stopping at the Bristol, would be moving on soon to one of the German spas, Wiesbaden most likely. And they were both willing to pretend that it was this approaching departure from Paris that kept them a little restrained, a little blue. Finally Mrs. Dracon spoke. "Don’t you think you’re a bit brutal with him, Beth? Young Germans have been known to kill themselves—” "Oh, he’ll show up again,” said Elizabeth. Baris was like a pond overstocked with goldfish—filled with the rich and idle from the four quarters of the world. Came the end of Grand Prix week, and it was as though some mighty hand had opened all the sluices of the pond. The goldfish scattered. The Dracons lingered longer In Paris than they had expected—a matter of new gowns—and then floated on, with other goldfish, to the German resort. But still there was no sign of Prince Frederick von Hohenstaufen. It troubled them both a little secretly. He wasn’t acting in accordance with form. Generally when an impoverished prince once fixes his attention on a dazzling bait like Elizabeth Dracon—handsome, educated, immeasurably rich in her own right—-he becomes as a ravening pike. So they both thought. They were not without experience. But they said nothing about it. Not until one night It was the night that followed a hideous day. From early morning they bad been crowded with strangers whom they feared and distrusted in the tiny, suffocating compartment of a third-class railway carriage. All day the train had crawled and stopped, then crawled again, like a wounded worm, while other trains rushed by with lordly authority. Soldiers, helmeted, brusk, impersonal, had jerked the door of the compartment open at. times, had stared and talked among themselves, but had answered no questions. Even more lugubrious was the deepening night. It had begun to rain. Then, finally, as though the wounded worm was completely exhausted, the train came to a halt and moved no more. There was another hour of stifling misery, then once more the door was jerked open and there came the order in the clipped, military German of Prussia: "All passengers get down!” It was almost panto as the shuddering civilians—men, women and children, Dutch, Belgian, French, English, Americana-clambered out; but information somehow got about that here they were to remain until mobilization was complete, that therq»was a hotel in the neighborhood that was to be theii temporary prison. *Ahd what is the name of the

placer’ Elizabeth asked a mammoth Belgian, who, with his wife and four children, had been their cellmate, throughout the day. Said the Belgian: -. w |S« “This la Hohenstaufen!” A moment later she and her mother! were leaning against each other for: mutual support. Very stiff and straight in a new nnhj form, surrounded by officers who were! showing him obvious respect, then* stood under the yellow shimmer of the station light some one whom they both had instantly recognized—Prince Fred*

erick himself. Almost at the same instant he saw them, started toward! them. “Ah, Mrs. Dracon; again! ' Permit! me to salute you.” He took .the tips of her fingers, bent forward from the hips without flexing his knees. “Ah, Miss Elizabeth!” He repeated the salute. Bat his ridiculously short hair was now concealed by a helmet which hadn’t been displaced. “I regret,” he said, as he straightened up, “that you have been made to suffer. But while you are in Hohenstaufen you will, at least, be my guests.” “We want to get to Belgium:—to London,” said Elizabeth, by now on the verge of tears. "We’ve lost our baggage—everything,” said Mrs. Dracon. They were speaking softly, as civilians and military passed and repassed. The officers who had surrounded the prince had turned their) backs, pretending not to notiee. “I am master here,” said the prince quietly; “but not beyond the limits of the principality." He turned to Elizabeth. “Have you forgotten that I love you?” “What then?” “Marry me.” Elizabeth looked at him with unflinching eyes. “You have us in your power—to. compromise us, disgrace us, if you wish—” A change of expression in that prince’s face made her-pause. “I spoke to you once of shooting myself," he said; “but my life was not my own. I still have it—Gott sel dank—to give for my country. As my wife, or even as my fiancee, you could have—” He made a gesture of despair. “Mrs. Dracon,” he resumed, “farewell. A military motor will be here in a few minutes, in charge oft one of my orderlies, who will see that you and Miss Dracon are conducted In safety to the Belgian frontier. Elizabeth, if I never see you again—” "Kiss me good-by,” she whispered in panic. ▲ gray-painted motor, with two men in uniform on the front seat, Mid off with them into the night. Prince Frederick von Hohenstaufen had not been there to see them go; but every now and then, as they stopped at garrison towns and scattered poets where all was wakefulness and feverish activity, one of the men on the front seat showed a paper hejcarried, whereupon there would be a murmured “Recht!” and a salute. “What is on that paper?” asked Elizabeth after one of these halts. The orderly looked surprised. "That thh high-born young lady,” he said, “is thV promised bride of his highness, Prince Frederick.” They came Into a sleepy Belgian frontier post at dawn- In aa hour a train would be carrying them to Dieppe, with London and New York, it seemed to them, thoroughly exhausted though they were, just beyond. Elizabeth demanded the paper that had brought them thus far in safety, and then, while her mother and the men who were there looked on. she wrote something on it with a borrowed pencil. “Take this back to his highness,” she said, “with our love and gratitude.” The orderly saluted. The gray car snorted and was off again on Its return Into Germany. Not until it waa at a safe distance did the orderly dare look at what the fair American had written. At first he saw nothing, as the paper flattered in his hand. He came to the words, “promised bride," and then ha saw There had been written here the cite word “Recht!”—and this ted been signed with the nam» of Sftsabetfe Dracon. « . . . .. _.. . .... - —^.- —lr— *i-r.-r-r*'jr r-v* '■'-Ml'i—iilßXnrirnnttE

"Look Out! He’s Coming Over.”

Slid Off With Them Into the Night.