Читать книгу The Colonel of the Red Huzzars - John Reed Scott - Страница 7

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It was raining heavily and I fastened my overcoat to the neck as I came down the steps of the Government Building. Pushing through the crowds and clanging electric cars, at the Smithfield Street corner, I turned toward Penn Avenue and the Club, whose home is in a big, old-fashioned, grey-stone building—sole remnant of aristocracy in that section where, once, naught else had been.

For three years I had been the engineer officer in charge of the Pittsburgh Harbor, and "the navigable rivers thereunto belonging"—as my friend, the District Judge, across the hall, would say—and my relief was due next week. Nor was I sorry. I was tired of dams and bridges and jobs, of levels and blue prints and mathematics. I wanted my sword and pistols—a horse between my legs—the smell of gunpowder in the air. I craved action—something more stirring than dirty banks and filthy water and coal-barges bound for Southern markets.

Five years ago my detail would have been the envy of half the Corps. But times were changed. The Spanish War had done more than give straps to a lot of civilians with pulls; it had eradicated the dry-rot from the Army. The officer with the soft berth was no longer deemed lucky; promotion passed him by and seized upon his fellow in the field. I had missed the war in China and the fighting in the Philippines and, as a consequence, had seen juniors lifted over me. Yet, possibly, I had small cause to grumble; for my own gold leaves had dropped upon me in Cuba, to the disadvantage of many who were my elders, and, doubtless, my betters as well. I had applied for active service, but evidently it had not met with approval, for my original orders to report to the Chief of Engineers were still unchanged.

The half dozen "regulars," lounging on the big leather chairs before the fireplace in the Club reception-room, waiting for the dinner hour, gave me the usual familiar yet half indifferent greeting, as I took my place among them and lit a cigar.

"Mighty sorry we're to lose you, Major," said Marmont. "Dinner won't seem quite right with your chair vacant."

"I'll come back occasionally to fill it," I answered. "Meanwhile there are cards awaiting all of you at the Metropolitan or the Army and Navy."

"Then you don't look for an early assignment to the White Elephant across the Pacific?" inquired Courtney.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Hastings, "did you apply for the Philippines?"

"What ails them?" I asked.

"Everything—particularly Chaffee's notion that white uniforms don't suit the climate?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Is that a criticism of your superior officer?" Marmont demanded.

"That is never done in the Army," I answered.

"Which being the case let us take a drink," said Westlake, and led the way to the café.

"Looks rather squally in Europe," Courtney observed, as the dice were deciding the privilege of signing the check.

"It will blow over, I fancy," I answered.

"Have you seen the afternoon papers?"

"No."

"Then you don't know the Titian Ambassador has been recalled."

"Indeed! Well, I still doubt if it means fight."

Courtney stroked his grey imperial. "Getting rather near one, don't you think?" he said.

"No closer than France and Turkey were only a short while ago," I answered. "Moreover, in this case, the Powers would have a word to say."

"Yes, they are rather ready to speak out on such occasions; but, unless I'm much mistaken, if the Titians and the Valerians get their armies moving it will take more than talk from the Powers to stop them."

"And it's all over a woman," I observed carelessly.

Courtney gave me a sharp glance. "I thought that was rather a secret," he replied.

I laughed. "It's one, at least, that the newspapers have not discovered—yet. But, where did you get it?"

"From a friend; same as yourself," he said, with the suggestion of a smile.

"My dear fellow," I said. "I know more about the Kingdom of Valeria than—well, than your friend and all his assistants of the State Department."

"I don't recall mentioning the State Department," Courtney replied.

"You didn't. I was honoring your friend by rating him among the diplomats."

He ignored my thrust. "Ever been to Valeria?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Recently?"

"About six years ago."

"Is that the last time?"

"What are you driving at?" I asked.

He answered with another question: "Seen the last number of the London Illustrated News?"

"No," I answered.

He struck the bell. "Bring me the London News," he said to the boy. Opening it at the frontispiece he pushed it across to me.

"Has she changed much since you saw her?" he asked, and smiled.

It was a woman's face that looked at me from the page; and, though it was six years since I had seen it last, I recognized it instantly. There was, however, a certain coldness in the eyes and a firm set of the lip and jaw that were new to me. But, as I looked, they seemed to soften, and I could have sworn that for an instant the Princess Dehra of Valeria smiled at me most sweetly—even as once she herself had done.

"You seem uncommonly well pleased with the lady," Courtney observed.

I handed back the News.

"You have not answered my question," he insisted.

"Look here, Courtney," I said, "it seems to me you are infernally inquisitive to-night."

"Maybe I am—only, I wanted to know something," and he laughed softly.

"Well?"

"I think I know it now," he said.

"Do you?" I retorted.

"Want to make a bet?" he asked.

"I never bet on a certainty," said I.

Courtney laughed. "Neither do I, so here's the wager:—a dinner for twenty that you and I are in Valeria thirty days from to-night and have dined with the King and danced with the Princess."

"Done!" said I.

"All I stipulate is that you do nothing to avoid King Frederick's invitation."

"And the Princess?" I asked.

"I'm counting on her to win me the bet," he laughed.

I picked up the picture and studied it again. The longer I looked the more willing I was to give Courtney a chance to eat my dinner.

"If the opportunity comes I'll dance with her," I said.

"Of course you will—but will you stop there, I wonder?"

I tapped my grey-besprinkled hair.

"They are no protection," he said. "I don't trust even my own to keep me steady against a handsome woman."

"They are playing us false even now," said I. "I'm not going to Valeria to decide a dinner bet."

"You're not. You're going as the representative of our Army to observe the Valerian-Titian War."

"You're as good as a gypsy or a medium. When do I start?"

"Don't be rude, my dear chap, and forget that, under the wager, I'm to be in the King's invitation—also the dance. We sail one week from to-day."

"A bit late to secure accommodations, isn't it?"

"They are booked—on the Wilhelm der Grosse."

"You are playing a long shot—several long shots," I laughed:—"War—Washington—me."

"Wrong," said Courtney. "I'm playing only War. I have the Secretary and the Princess has you."

"You have the Secretary!"

"Days ago."

"The Devil!" I exclaimed, lifting my glass abstractedly.

"The Princess! you mean," said Courtney quickly, lifting his own and clicking mine.

I looked at the picture again—and again it seemed to smile at me.

"The Princess!" I echoed; and we drank the toast. "We're a pair of old fools," said I, when the glasses were emptied.

Courtney picked up the News and held the picture before me.

"Say that to her," he challenged.

"I can't be rude to her very face," I answered lamely.

Just then one of the "buttons" handed me a telegram. I tore open the yellow envelope and read the sheet, still damp from the copy-press. It ran:—

"Titia declares war. Detail as attaché open. If desired report at headquarters immediately. Hennecker relieves you in morning. Answer."

"(signed) HENDERSON, A. A. G."

I tossed it over to Courtney. "You're that much nearer the dinner," I said.

"And the Princess also," he added.

"Then you're actually going?" I asked.

"My dear Major, did you ever doubt it?"

"Your vagaries are past doubting," I answered.

"And yours?"

"I am going under orders of the War Department."

"Of course," he answered, "of course. And, that being so, you won't mind my confessing that I'm going largely on account of—a woman."

"I won't mind anything that gives me your companionship."

"So, it's settled," he said. "Let us have some dinner, and then cut in for a farewell turn in the game of hearts upstairs."

"It will be another sort of game over the water," I observed.

"Yes—with a different sort of hearts," he said thoughtfully.

"Is it possible, Courtney, you are growing sentimental?" I demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders. "There's no fool like an old fool, you know," he answered.

"Unless it be one that is just old enough to be neither old nor young," said I.

Then we went in to dinner.

Courtney is a good fellow; one of the best friends a man can have; well born, rich, with powerful political connections in both Parties, and having no profession nor necessary occupation to tie him down. His tastes ran to diplomacy, and Secretaries of State—knowing this fact, and being further advised of it at various times by certain prominent Senators—had given him numerous secret missions to both Europe and South America. Legations had been offered to him but these he had always declined; for, as he told me, he preferred the quiet, independent work, that carried no responsible social duties with it.

It happened that General Russell, our representative at the Court of Valeria, was home on vacation. Naturally, he would now return in all haste. Here, I imagined, was an explanation of my sudden orders. He was an intimate of our family; had known me since childhood, and, doubtless, had asked for my detail to his household, and also for Courtney's. And Courtney, naturally, having been early consulted in the matter, knew all the facts and so was able to bluff at me with them. It would be just as well to call him.

"Is General Russell crossing with us?" I asked carelessly.

Courtney shook his head. "He is not going back to Valeria."

"Oh!" said I, realizing suddenly my mistake, "I didn't appreciate I was dining with an Ambassador."

"It's not yet announced. However, I'm glad it does not change me," he laughed.

"I can tell that better after we reach Valeria—and you have danced with the Princess."

He sipped his coffee meditatively. "Yes, there may be changes in Valeria in us both," he said presently.

"Don't do the heavy reproof if I chance to forget the difference in our rank," I answered. "But you must manage one turn for me with Her Royal Highness, if you're to eat my dinner, you know."

"How many times have you been to Valeria?" he asked suddenly.

"Some half dozen," I replied, surprised.

"Ever been in the private apartments of the Palace of Dornlitz?"

"No—I think not."

"I mean, particularly, the corridor where hang the portraits of the Kings?"

"I don't recall them."

He laughed shortly. "Believe me, you would recall them well," he said.

"What the devil are you driving at?" I asked.

"I'll show you the night you dance with the Princess."

"A poor army officer doesn't usually have such honors."

"No—not if he be only a poor army officer. But, if he chance to be——"

"Well," I said, "be what?"

"I'll tell you in the picture gallery," he answered.

And not another word would he say in the matter.