Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1916 — THE PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK [ARTICLE]

THE PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK

By GEORGE BARR M’CUTCHEON

Author of “Graustark,” ••Beverly of Graustark,” Etc. Copyright, 1914, by Dodd, Mead and Company

CHAPTER XX. Pingari’s. PINGARI’S is the jumping off place. It stands at the sharp corner of an elbow in the mountain, with an almost sheer drop of a thousand feet into the quarries below. A low roofed, rambling building, once used as a troop house for nomadic fighting men who came from all parts of the principality on draft by feudal barons in the days before real law obtained. Hobbs drove bravely into the courtyard, shouted orders to a couple of hostlers and descended from the box. Robin followed an attendant through a door, down a narrow hallway, up a flight of stairs and out another door upon a small portico, sheltered by a heavy canvas awning. Two men were standing at the railing, looking down upon the impressionistic lights of the sunken city. The prince drew back, his face hardening. At the sound of his steps the two men turned, stared at him intently for an instant and then deliberately strode past him, entered the door and disappeared. The person in brass buttons followed them. A soft, gurgling laugh fell upon his ears—a laugh of pure delight. He whirled about and faced—one who was no longer alone. She was seated at the solitary little table in the corner. He sprang toward her with a glad cry, expecting her to rise. She remained seated, her hand extended. “My dear, dear Bedelia,” he murmured. “I had almost given you up.

Three long days have I waited for you. You”— “I have never broken a promise, Rex,” she said coolly. “It is you who are to be commended, not I, for you see I was coming to Graustark anyway. I should not have been surprised if you had failed me, sir. It is a long way from Vienna to this out of the way”— “The most distant spot in the world would not have been too far away to cause an instant’s hesitation on my part,” said he, dropping into the chair opposite her. “But your personal affairs youi business,” she' protested. “Can you neglect it so”— “My business is to find happiness,” said he. “I should be neglecting it indeed if I failed to pursue the only means of attaining it. You are happiness, Bedelia.” “What would you sacrifice for happiness?” she asked softly. “All else in the world,” he replied steadily. “If I were a king my realm should go if it stood between me and —you, Bedelia.” “Wait—wait just for a moment,” she said, with difficulty steadying her voice. “This night may see the end of our adventure, Rex. Let us think well before we say that it is Over. I know, if you do not, that a great deal depends upon what we are to say to each other tonight. You will ask me to be your wife. Are you sure that you appreciate all that it means to you and to your future if I should say yes to that dear question?” He looked at her intently. “What do you know, Bedelia?” “I know that you are the Prince of Graustark and that it is ordained that you shall wed one whose station is the equal of your own. You must think well, dear Rex, before you ask Bedelia Guile to be your wife.” “You know that I am”—he began dully, and then stood up, leaning fai over the table, a penetrating look in his eyes. “How long have you known, Bedelia?” “Since the second day out on the Jupiter,” she replied serenely. He slowly resumed his seat, overwhelmed. She tad played with him. She had defied him! “I know what you are thinking, Rex,” she said, almost pleadingly. “You are thinking ill of me, and you are unjust. It was as fair for me as it was for you. We played a cautious game. You set about to win my love as you saw fit, my friend, and am 1 to be condemned if I exercised the same privilege?” He gave a great sigh of relief. ‘tYou are right,” he said. “It is my turn to confess. I have known for many days that you are not Bedelia Guile. We are quits.” She laughed softly. -it doesn't matter,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t care what happens to me, Bedelia, I —l shall never give you up. You are worth all the kingdoms in the world. You are the loveliest, most adorable”— “Hush! Mrs. Gaston is inside,” she informed him quickly. “I do not come alone. An hour ago the inn became quite impossible as a trysting place. A small party from the Regengetz arrived for dinner. Can you guess who is giving the dinner? The great and only William W. Blithers, sir, who comes to put an obstinate daughter upon the throne of Graustark, whether she will or no.” “Did he see you?” cried Robih. “No,” she answered, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Hide and seek is a bully game,” said he. “It can’t last much longer, Bedelia. I think it is only right that we should go to your father and tell him that—everything is all right. There is nothing to be gained by further secrecy.” She was watching him closely. “Are you, after all is said and done, sure that you want to marry the daughter of William Blithers, in the face of all the bitter consequences that may follow such an act?” ’ “Are you through?” he asSked, transfixing her with a determined look. Well, then, I’ll answer you. I do want to marry you, and, more than that, I mean to marry you. I love”—

“You may tell me, Robin, as we are driving back to the inn together—not here, not now,” she said softly, the lovelight in her eyes. Happiness blurred his vision. Long afterward, as they were preparing to leave Pingari’s, she said to him: “My father is at the inn, Robin. I ran away from him tonight because I wanted to be sure that our adventure was closed before I revealed myself to him. Take me to him now, Robin, and make the miracle complete.” His fingers caressed her warm cheek as he adjusted the collar of the long coat about het throat and chin. Her eyes were starry bright, her red lips were parted “My princess!” he whispered tenderly. “My princess!” “My prince!” she said, so softly that the words barely reached his ears. “We have proved that Love is the king. He rules us all. He laughs at locksmiths—and. fathers—but he does not laugh at sweethearts. Come, “Mme. Gaston returns long ago. He handed her into the cab a moment later and drew the long, deep breath of one who goes down into deep water. Then he followed after her. The attendant closed the door. Hobbs was a dependable fellow. He drove far out of the way, passing the Inn of the Stars twice at a lively clip, and might have gone on forever in his shuttlecock enterprise had not the excited voice of a woman hailed him from the sidewalk. “Stop! Attendez! You! Man!” He pulled up with a jerk. The dripping figure of Marie ran up from behind. “My mistress? Where is she?” panted the girl. “In heaven,” said Hobbs promptly, whereupon Marie pounded on the glass window of the cab. Robin quickly opened the door. “Wha—what is it?” “Yes, Marie,” came in muffled tones from the depths of the cab. . “Mme. Gaston returns long ago. She is beside herself. She is like a maniac. She has lost you; she cannot explain to—to mademoiselle’s father. Mon dieu, ■when he met her unexpectedly in the hall he shouts, ‘Where is my daughter?’ And poor madame she has but to shiver and stammer and—run away! Oui She dash out into the rain! It is terrible. She”— Bedelia broke in upon this jumbled recitation. “Where have we been, Robin? Where are we now?” “Where are we, Hobbs?” “We are just getting back to the Inn of the Stars, sir—descending, you might say, sir,” said Hobbs. “Drive on, confound you.” The door slammed, and the final block was covered in so short a time that Robin’s final kiss was still warm on Bedelia’s lips when the gallant cab rolled up to the portals of the Inn of the Stars. Mr. Blithers had had a trying day of it. Besides other annoyances, his wife raked him over the coals for what she was pleased to call his senseless persistence in the face of what she regarded as unalterable opposition on the part of the cabinet and house of nobles. And so it was that Mr. Blithers, feeling in need of cheer, arranged a little dinner for that evening at the Inn of the Stars. He invited his principal London lawyer and his wife, also his secondary London lawyer, his French lawyer and two attractive young women who it appears were related to the latter, although at quite a distance, and then concluded that it was best to speak to his own wife about the little affair. She said she couldn’t even think of going. Maud might arrive that very night, and she certainly was not going out of the hotel with such an event as that in prospect. “But Simpson’s wife is coming,” protested Mr. Blithers, “and Pericault’s cousins. Certainly you must come. Jolly little affair to liven us up a bit. Now, Lou”— “I am quite positive that Lady Simpson ■will change her mind when she hears that Pericault’s cousins are going,” said Mrs. Blithers acidly. He thought for a moment. “If that’s the case, Lou, you’ll have to come, if only to save my reputation,” he said. “I didn’t think it of Pericault.” Mrs. Blithers relented. She went to the dinner, and so did Lady Simpson, despite Pericault’s cousins, and the only ones in the party who appeared to be uneasy were the cousins themselves. The millionaire’s table was placed in the very center of the dining room and plates were laid for eight. At the last minute Mr. Blithers ordered the number increased to nine. “My daughter may put in an appearance,” he explained to Lady Simpson. “I have left word at the hotel for her to come up if by any chance she happens to arrive on the evening train.” “Haven’t you heard from her, Mr. Blithers?” inquired the austere lady, regarding the top of his head with an illy directed lorgnon. “We have,” said he, “but not definitely.” Two hours later Mr. Blithers looked at his watch again. The party was quite gay; at least 50 per cent disorderly. “That train has been in for an hour,” said the host. “I guess Maud didn’t come. I left word for the hotel to call me up if she arrived.” “I also told ’em to send up any telegram that might come,” he informed his wife, who merely lifted her eyebrows. They had been lowered perceptibly in consequence of the ebullience of Pericault’s cousins. The vivacious young women were attracting a great deal of attention to their table. Smart diners in the immediate neighborhood appeared to be a trifle shocked. Three dignified

looking gentlemen seated near the door got up and left the room. “We really must be going,” said Mrs. Blithers nervously. “All right,” said Mr. Blithers. “Call the cars up, waiter.” Out in the wide, brilliantly lighted foyer a few late stayers were Waiting for their conveyances to be announced. As the four departing members of the Blithers party grouped themselves near the big doors, impatient to be off, a brass buttoned boy came up and delivered a telegram to the host. He was bn the point of tearing open the envelope when his eyes fell upon two people who had just entered the hall from without, a man and woman clad in raincoats. At the same instant the former saw Mr. Blithers. Clutching his companion’s arm, he directed her attention to the millionaire. “Now for it, Bedella,” he whispered excitedly. Bedella gazed calmly at Mr. Blithers, and Mr. Blithers gazed blankly at the Prince of Graustark. Then the great financier bowed very deeply; and called out: “Good evening, prince!” He received no response to his polite greeting, for the prince was staring at Bedelia as if stupefied. The millionaire’s face was very red with mortification as he turned it away. “He—he doesn’t recognize you,” gasped Robin in amazement. “Who?” she asked, her eyes searching the room with an eager, inquiring look. “Your father,” he said. She gave him a ravishing, delighted smile. “Oh, it is so wonderful, Robin. I have fooled you completely. That man isn’t my father.” “That’s Mr. Blithers, or I am as blind as a bat,” he exclaimed. “Is it, indeed? The one reading the telegram, with his eyes sticking out of his head?” Robin’s head was swimming. “Good heavens, Bedelia, what are you”— “Ah!” she cried, with a little shriek of Joy. “Seel There he is!” One of the three distinguished men who had been remarked by Mrs. Blithers now separated himself from his companions and approached the couple. He was a tall, handsome man of fifty. Although his approach was swift and eager, there were in his face the signs of wrath that still struggled against joy. She turned quickly, laid her hand upon the prince’s rigid arm and said softly: “My father is the Prince of Dawsbergen, dear.”

A crumpled telegram dropped from Mr. Blithers’ palsied hand to the floor as he turned a white, despairing face upon his wife. The brass buttoned boy picked it up and handed it to Mrs. Blithers. It was from Maud: We were married in Vienna today. After all X think I shall not care to see Graustark. Channie is a dear. I have promised him that you will take him into the business as a partner. We are at the Bristol. MAUD. [the end.]