The Indiscretion Of Elsbeth
: Selected StoriesThe American paused. He had evidently lost his way. For the last half
hour he had been wandering in a medieval town, in a profound medieval
dream. Only a few days had elapsed since he had left the steamship that
carried him hither; and the accents of his own tongue, the idioms of
his own people, and the sympathetic community of New World tastes and
expressions still filled his mind until he woke up, or rather, as it
se
which had once held his ancestors. Although a republican, he had liked
to think of them in quaint distinctive garb, representing state and
importance--perhaps even aristocratic pre-eminence--content to let the
responsibility of such "bad eminence" rest with them entirely, but a
habit of conscientiousness and love for historic truth eventually led
him also to regard an honest BAUER standing beside his cattle in the
quaint market place, or a kindly-faced black-eyed DIENSTMADCHEN in a
doorway, with a timid, respectful interest, as a possible type of his
progenitors. For, unlike some of his traveling countrymen in Europe, he
was not a snob, and it struck him--as an American--that it was,
perhaps, better to think of his race as having improved than as having
degenerated. In these ingenuous meditations he had passed the long rows
of quaint, high houses, whose sagging roofs and unpatched dilapidations
were yet far removed from squalor, until he had reached the road
bordered by poplars, all so unlike his own country's waysides--and knew
that he had wandered far from his hotel.
He did not care, however, to retrace his steps and return by the way
he had come. There was, he reasoned, some other street or turning that
would eventually bring him to the market place and his hotel, and yet
extend his experience of the town. He turned at right angles into a
narrow grass lane, which was, however, as neatly kept and apparently as
public as the highway. A few moments' walking convinced him that it was
not a thoroughfare and that it led to the open gates of a park. This had
something of a public look, which suggested that his intrusion might be
at least a pardonable trespass, and he relied, like most strangers, on
the exonerating quality of a stranger's ignorance. The park lay in the
direction he wished to go, and yet it struck him as singular that a park
of such extent should be still allowed to occupy such valuable urban
space. Indeed, its length seemed to be illimitable as he wandered on,
until he became conscious that he must have again lost his way, and he
diverged toward the only boundary, a high, thickset hedge to the right,
whose line he had been following.
As he neared it he heard the sound of voices on the other side, speaking
in German, with which he was unfamiliar. Having, as yet, met no one, and
being now impressed with the fact that for a public place the park was
singularly deserted, he was conscious that his position was getting
serious, and he determined to take this only chance of inquiring his
way. The hedge was thinner in some places than in others, and at times
he could see not only the light through it but even the moving figures
of the speakers, and the occasional white flash of a summer gown. At
last he determined to penetrate it, and with little difficulty emerged
on the other side. But here he paused motionless. He found himself
behind a somewhat formal and symmetrical group of figures with their
backs toward him, but all stiffened into attitudes as motionless as his
own, and all gazing with a monotonous intensity in the direction of a
handsome building, which had been invisible above the hedge but which
now seemed to arise suddenly before him. Some of the figures were in
uniform. Immediately before him, but so slightly separated from
the others that he was enabled to see the house between her and her
companions, he was confronted by the pretty back, shoulders, and blond
braids of a young girl of twenty. Convinced that he had unwittingly
intruded upon some august ceremonial, he instantly slipped back into
the hedge, but so silently that his momentary presence was evidently
undetected. When he regained the park side he glanced back through
the interstices; there was no movement of the figures nor break in the
silence to indicate that his intrusion had been observed. With a long
breath of relief he hurried from the park.
It was late when he finally got back to his hotel. But his little modern
adventure had, I fear, quite outrun his previous medieval reflections,
and almost his first inquiry of the silver-chained porter in the
courtyard was in regard to the park. There was no public park in
Alstadt! The Herr possibly alluded to the Hof Gardens--the Schloss,
which was in the direction he indicated. The Schloss was the residency
of the hereditary Grand Duke. JA WOHL! He was stopping there with
several Hoheiten. There was naturally a party there--a family reunion.
But it was a private enclosure. At times, when the Grand Duke was "not in
residence," it was open to the public. In point of fact, at such times
tickets of admission were to be had at the hotel for fifty pfennige
each. There was not, of truth, much to see except a model farm and
dairy--the pretty toy of a previous Grand Duchess.
But he seemed destined to come into closer collision with the modern
life of Alstadt. On entering the hotel, wearied by his long walk, he
passed the landlord and a man in half-military uniform on the landing
near his room. As he entered his apartment he had a vague impression,
without exactly knowing why, that the landlord and the military
stranger had just left it. This feeling was deepened by the evident
disarrangement of certain articles in his unlocked portmanteau and the
disorganization of his writing case. A wave of indignation passed over
him. It was followed by a knock at the door, and the landlord blandly
appeared with the stranger.
"A thousand pardons," said the former, smilingly, "but Herr Sanderman,
the Ober-Inspector of Police, wishes to speak with you. I hope we are
not intruding?"
"Not NOW," said the American, dryly.
The two exchanged a vacant and deprecating smile.
"I have to ask only a few formal questions," said the Ober-Inspector in
excellent but somewhat precise English, "to supplement the report which,
as a stranger, you may not know is required by the police from the
landlord in regard to the names and quality of his guests who are
foreign to the town. You have a passport?"
"I have," said the American still more dryly. "But I do not keep it in
an unlocked portmanteau or an open writing case."
"An admirable precaution," said Sanderman, with unmoved politeness.
"May I see it? Thanks," he added, glancing over the document which the
American produced from his pocket. "I see that you are a born American
citizen--and an earlier knowledge of that fact would have prevented
this little contretemps. You are aware, Mr. Hoffman, that your name is
German?"
"It was borne by my ancestors, who came from this country two centuries
ago," said Hoffman, curtly.
"We are indeed honored by your return to it," returned Sanderman
suavely, "but it was the circumstance of your name being a local one,
and the possibility of your still being a German citizen liable to
unperformed military duty, which has caused the trouble." His manner was
clearly civil and courteous, but Hoffman felt that all the time his own
face and features were undergoing a profound scrutiny from the speaker.
"And you are making sure that you will know me again?" said Hoffman,
with a smile.
"I trust, indeed, both," returned Sanderman, with a bow, "although
you will permit me to say that your description here," pointing to the
passport, "scarcely does you justice. ACH GOTT! it is the same in all
countries; the official eye is not that of the young DAMEN."
Hoffman, though not conceited, had not lived twenty years without
knowing that he was very good-looking, yet there was something in the
remark that caused him to color with a new uneasiness.
The Ober-Inspector rose with another bow, and moved toward the door. "I
hope you will let me make amends for this intrusion by doing anything I
can to render your visit here a pleasant one. Perhaps," he added, "it is
not for long."
But Hoffman evaded the evident question, as he resented what he imagined
was a possible sneer.
"I have not yet determined my movements," he said.
The Ober-Inspector brought his heels together in a somewhat stiffer
military salute and departed.
Nothing, however, could have exceeded the later almost servile urbanity
of the landlord, who seemed to have been proud of the official visit to
his guest. He was profuse in his attentions, and even introduced him to
a singularly artistic-looking man of middle age, wearing an order in his
buttonhole, whom he met casually in the hall.
"Our Court photographer," explained the landlord with some fervor,
"at whose studio, only a few houses distant, most of the Hoheiten and
Prinzessinen of Germany have sat for their likenesses."
"I should feel honored if the distinguished American Herr would give
me a visit," said the stranger gravely, as he gazed at Hoffman with an
intensity which recalled the previous scrutiny of the Police Inspector,
"and I would be charmed if he would avail himself of my poor skill to
transmit his picturesque features to my unique collection."
Hoffman returned a polite evasion to this invitation, although he was
conscious of being struck with this second examination of his face, and
the allusion to his personality.
The next morning the porter met him with a mysterious air. The Herr
would still like to see the Schloss? Hoffman, who had quite forgotten
his adventure in the park, looked vacant. JA WOHL--the Hof authorities
had no doubt heard of his visit and had intimated to the hotel
proprietor that he might have permission to visit the model farm and
dairy. As the American still looked indifferent the porter pointed out
with some importance that it was a Ducal courtesy not to be lightly
treated; that few, indeed, of the burghers themselves had ever been
admitted to this eccentric whim of the late Grand Duchess. He would, of
course, be silent about it; the Court would not like it known that they
had made an exception to their rules in favor of a foreigner; he would
enter quickly and boldly alone. There would be a housekeeper or a
dairymaid to show him over the place.
More amused at this important mystery over what he, as an American, was
inclined to classify as a "free pass" to a somewhat heavy "side show,"
he gravely accepted the permission, and the next morning after breakfast
set out to visit the model farm and dairy. Dismissing his driver, as
he had been instructed, Hoffman entered the gateway with a mingling of
expectancy and a certain amusement over the "boldness" which the
porter had suggested should characterize his entrance. Before him was
a beautifully kept lane bordered by arbored and trellised roses, which
seemed to sink into the distance. He was instinctively following it when
he became aware that he was mysteriously accompanied by a man in the
livery of a chasseur, who was walking among the trees almost abreast
of him, keeping pace with his step, and after the first introductory
military salute preserving a ceremonious silence. There was something
so ludicrous in this solemn procession toward a peaceful, rural industry
that by the time they had reached the bottom of the lane the American
had quite recovered his good humor. But here a new astonishment awaited
him. Nestling before him in a green amphitheater lay a little wooden
farm-yard and outbuildings, which irresistibly suggested that it had
been recently unpacked and set up from a box of Nuremberg toys. The
symmetrical trees, the galleried houses with preternaturally glazed
windows, even the spotty, disproportionately sized cows in the
white-fenced barnyards were all unreal, wooden and toylike.
Crossing a miniature bridge over a little stream, from which he was
quite prepared to hook metallic fish with a magnet their own size,
he looked about him for some real being to dispel the illusion. The
mysterious chasseur had disappeared. But under the arch of an arbor,
which seemed to be composed of silk ribbons, green glass, and pink
tissue paper, stood a quaint but delightful figure.
At first it seemed as if he had only dispelled one illusion for another.
For the figure before him might have been made of Dresden china--so
daintily delicate and unique it was in color and arrangement. It was
that of a young girl dressed in some forgotten medieval peasant garb
of velvet braids, silver-staylaced corsage, lace sleeves, and helmeted
metallic comb. But, after the Dresden method, the pale yellow of her
hair was repeated in her bodice, the pink of her cheeks was in the
roses of her chintz overskirt. The blue of her eyes was the blue of her
petticoat; the dazzling whiteness of her neck shone again in the
sleeves and stockings. Nevertheless she was real and human, for the
pink deepened in her cheeks as Hoffman's hat flew from his head, and she
recognized the civility with a grave little curtsy.
"You have come to see the dairy," she said in quaintly accurate English;
"I will show you the way."
"If you please," said Hoffman, gaily, "but--"
"But what?" she said, facing him suddenly with absolutely astonished
eyes.
Hoffman looked into them so long that their frank wonder presently
contracted into an ominous mingling of restraint and resentment. Nothing
daunted, however, he went on:
"Couldn't we shake all that?"
The look of wonder returned. "Shake all that?" she repeated. "I do not
understand."
"Well! I'm not positively aching to see cows, and you must be sick of
showing them. I think, too, I've about sized the whole show. Wouldn't
it be better if we sat down in that arbor--supposing it won't fall
down--and you told me all about the lot? It would save you a heap of
trouble and keep your pretty frock cleaner than trapesing round. Of
course," he said, with a quick transition to the gentlest courtesy, "if
you're conscientious about this thing we'll go on and not spare a cow.
Consider me in it with you for the whole morning."
She looked at him again, and then suddenly broke into a charming laugh.
It revealed a set of strong white teeth, as well as a certain barbaric
trace in its cadence which civilized restraint had not entirely
overlaid.
"I suppose she really is a peasant, in spite of that pretty frock," he
said to himself as he laughed too.
But her face presently took a shade of reserve, and with a gentle but
singular significance she said:
"I think you must see the dairy."
Hoffman's hat was in his hand with a vivacity that tumbled the brown
curls on his forehead. "By all means," he said instantly, and began
walking by her side in modest but easy silence. Now that he thought her
a conscientious peasant he was quiet and respectful.
Presently she lifted her eyes, which, despite her gravity, had not
entirely lost their previous mirthfulness, and said:
"But you Americans--in your rich and prosperous country, with your large
lands and your great harvests--you must know all about farming."
"Never was in a dairy in my life," said Hoffman gravely. "I'm from
the city of New York, where the cows give swill milk, and are kept in
cellars."
Her eyebrows contracted prettily in an effort to understand. Then she
apparently gave it up, and said with a slanting glint of mischief in her
eyes:
"Then you come here like the other Americans in hope to see the Grand
Duke and Duchess and the Princesses?"
"No. The fact is I almost tumbled into a lot of 'em--standing like wax
figures--the other side of the park lodge, the other day--and got away
as soon as I could. I think I prefer the cows."
Her head was slightly turned away. He had to content himself with
looking down upon the strong feet in their serviceable but smartly
buckled shoes that uplifted her upright figure as she moved beside him.
"Of course," he added with boyish but unmistakable courtesy, "if it's
part of your show to trot out the family, why I'm in that, too. I dare
say you could make them interesting."
"But why," she said with her head still slightly turned away toward
a figure--a sturdy-looking woman, which, for the first time, Hoffman
perceived was walking in a line with them as the chasseur had done--"why
did you come here at all?"
"The first time was a fool accident," he returned frankly. "I was making
a short cut through what I thought was a public park. The second time
was because I had been rude to a Police Inspector whom I found going
through my things, but who apologized--as I suppose--by getting me an
invitation from the Grand Duke to come here, and I thought it only the
square thing to both of 'em to accept it. But I'm mighty glad I came;
I wouldn't have missed YOU for a thousand dollars. You see I haven't
struck anyone I cared to talk to since." Here he suddenly remarked that
she hadn't looked at him, and that the delicate whiteness of her neck
was quite suffused with pink, and stopped instantly. Presently he said
quite easily:
"Who's the chorus?"
"The lady?"
"Yes. She's watching us as if she didn't quite approve, you know--just
as if she didn't catch on."
"She's the head housekeeper of the farm. Perhaps you would prefer to
have her show you the dairy; shall I call her?"
The figure in question was very short and stout, with voluminous
petticoats.
"Please don't; I'll stay without your setting that paperweight on me.
But here's the dairy. Don't let her come inside among those pans of
fresh milk with that smile, or there'll be trouble."
The young girl paused too, made a slight gesture with her hand, and the
figure passed on as they entered the dairy. It was beautifully clean and
fresh. With a persistence that he quickly recognized as mischievous and
ironical, and with his characteristic adaptability accepted with even
greater gravity and assumption of interest, she showed him all the
details. From thence they passed to the farmyard, where he hung with
breathless attention over the names of the cows and made her repeat
them. Although she was evidently familiar with the subject, he could see
that her zeal was fitful and impatient.
"Suppose we sit down," he said, pointing to an ostentatious rustic seat
in the center of the green.
"Sir down?" she repeated wonderingly. "What for?"
"To talk. We'll knock off and call it half a day."
"But if you are not looking at the farm you are, of course, going," she
said quickly.
"Am I? I don't think these particulars were in my invitation."
She again broke into a fit of laughter, and at the same time cast a
bright eye around the field.
"Come," he said gently, "there are no other sightseers waiting, and your
conscience is clear," and he moved toward the rustic seat.
"Certainly not--there," she added in a low voice.
They moved on slowly together to a copse of willows which overhung the
miniature stream.
"You are not staying long in Alstadt?" she said.
"No; I only came to see the old town that my ancestors came from."
They were walking so close together that her skirt brushed his trousers,
but she suddenly drew away from him, and looking him fixedly in the eye
said:
"Ah, you have relations here?"
"Yes, but they are dead two hundred years."
She laughed again with a slight expression of relief. They had entered
the copse and were walking in dense shadow when she suddenly stopped and
sat down upon a rustic bench. To his surprise he found that they were
quite alone.
"Tell me about these relatives," she said, slightly drawing aside her
skirt to make room for him on the seat.
He did not require a second invitation. He not only told her all about
his ancestral progenitors, but, I fear, even about those more recent and
more nearly related to him; about his own life, his vocation--he was a
clever newspaper correspondent with a roving commission--his ambitions,
his beliefs and his romance.
"And then, perhaps, of this visit--you will also make 'copy'?"
He smiled at her quick adaptation of his professional slang, but shook
his head.
"No," he said gravely. "No--this is YOU. The CHICAGO INTERVIEWER is big
pay and is rich, but it hasn't capital enough to buy you from me."
He gently slid his hand toward hers and slipped his fingers softly
around it. She made a slight movement of withdrawal, but even then--as
if in forgetfulness or indifference--permitted her hand to rest
unresponsively in his. It was scarcely an encouragement to gallantry,
neither was it a rejection of an unconscious familiarity.
"But you haven't told me about yourself," he said.
"Oh, I," she returned, with her first approach to coquetry in a laugh
and a sidelong glance, "of what importance is that to you? It is the
Grand Duchess and Her Highness the Princess that you Americans seek to
know. I am--what I am--as you see."
"You bet," said Hoffman with charming decision.
"I WHAT?"
"You ARE, you know, and that's good enough for me, but I don't even know
your name."
She laughed again, and after a pause, said: "Elsbeth."
"But I couldn't call you by your first name on our first meeting, you
know."
"Then you Americans are really so very formal--eh?" she said slyly,
looking at her imprisoned hand.
"Well, yes," returned Hoffman, disengaging it. "I suppose we are
respectful, or mean to be. But whom am I to inquire for? To write to?"
"You are neither to write nor inquire."
"What?" She had moved in her seat so as to half-face him with eyes in
which curiosity, mischief, and a certain seriousness alternated, but for
the first time seemed conscious of his hand, and accented her words with
a slight pressure.
"You are to return to your hotel presently, and say to your landlord:
'Pack up my luggage. I have finished with this old town and my
ancestors, and the Grand Duke, whom I do not care to see, and I shall
leave Alstadt tomorrow!'"
"Thank you! I don't catch on."
"Of what necessity should you? I have said it. That should be enough for
a chivalrous American like you." She again significantly looked down at
her hand.
"If you mean that you know the extent of the favor you ask of me, I can
say no more," he said seriously; "but give me some reason for it."
"Ah so!" she said, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Then I must
tell you. You say you do not know the Grand Duke and Duchess. Well! THEY
KNOW YOU. The day before yesterday you were wandering in the park, as
you admit. You say, also, you got through the hedge and interrupted
some ceremony. That ceremony was not a Court function, Mr. Hoffman, but
something equally sacred--the photographing of the Ducal family
before the Schloss. You say that you instantly withdrew. But after the
photograph was taken the plate revealed a stranger standing actually
by the side of the Princess Alexandrine, and even taking the PAS of the
Grand Duke himself. That stranger was you!"
"And the picture was spoiled," said the American, with a quiet laugh.
"I should not say that," returned the lady, with a demure glance at her
companion's handsome face, "and I do not believe that the Princess--who
first saw the photograph--thought so either. But she is very young
and willful, and has the reputation of being very indiscreet, and
unfortunately she begged the photographer not to destroy the plate, but
to give it to her, and to say nothing about it, except that the plate
was defective, and to take another. Still it would have ended there if
her curiosity had not led her to confide a description of the stranger
to the Police Inspector, with the result you know."
"Then I am expected to leave town because I accidentally stumbled into a
family group that was being photographed?"
"Because a certain Princess was indiscreet enough to show her curiosity
about you," corrected the fair stranger.
"But look here! I'll apologize to the Princess, and offer to pay for the
plate."
"Then you do want to see the Princess?" said the young girl smiling;
"you are like the others."
"Bother the Princess! I want to see YOU. And I don't see how they can
prevent it if I choose to remain."
"Very easily. You will find that there is something wrong with your
passport, and you will be sent on to Pumpernickel for examination. You
will unwittingly transgress some of the laws of the town and be ordered
to leave it. You will be shadowed by the police until you quarrel with
them--like a free American--and you are conducted to the frontier.
Perhaps you will strike an officer who has insulted you, and then you
are finished on the spot."
The American's crest rose palpably until it cocked his straw hat over
his curls.
"Suppose I am content to risk it--having first laid the whole matter and
its trivial cause before the American Minister, so that he could make it
hot for this whole caboodle of a country if they happened to 'down me.'
By Jove! I shouldn't mind being the martyr of an international episode
if they'd spare me long enough to let me get the first 'copy' over to
the other side." His eyes sparkled.
"You could expose them, but they would then deny the whole story, and
you have no evidence. They would demand to know your informant, and I
should be disgraced, and the Princess, who is already talked about,
made a subject of scandal. But no matter! It is right that an American's
independence shall not be interfered with."
She raised the hem of her handkerchief to her blue eyes and slightly
turned her head aside. Hoffman gently drew the handkerchief away, and in
so doing possessed himself of her other hand.
"Look here, Miss--Miss--Elsbeth. You know I wouldn't give you away,
whatever happened. But couldn't I get hold of that photographer--I saw
him, he wanted me to sit to him--and make him tell me?"
"He wanted you to sit to him," she said hurriedly, "and did you?"
"No," he replied. "He was a little too fresh and previous, though I
thought he fancied some resemblance in me to somebody else."
"Ah!" She said something to herself in German which he did not
understand, and then added aloud:
"You did well; he is a bad man, this photographer. Promise me you shall
not sit for him."
"How can I if I'm fired out of the place like this?" He added ruefully,
"But I'd like to make him give himself away to me somehow."
"He will not, and if he did he would deny it afterward. Do not go near
him nor see him. Be careful that he does not photograph you with his
instantaneous instrument when you are passing. Now you must go. I must
see the Princess."
"Let me go, too. I will explain it to her," said Hoffman.
She stopped, looked at him keenly, and attempted to withdraw her
hands. "Ah, then it IS so. It is the Princess you wish to see. You are
curious--you, too; you wish to see this lady who is interested in you. I
ought to have known it. You are all alike."
He met her gaze with laughing frankness, accepting her outburst as a
charming feminine weakness, half jealousy, half coquetry--but retained
her hands.
"Nonsense," he said. "I wish to see her that I may have the right to see
you--that you shall not lose your place here through me; that I may come
again."
"You must never come here again."
"Then you must come where I am. We will meet somewhere when you have
an afternoon off. You shall show me the town--the houses of my
ancestors--their tombs; possibly--if the Grand Duke rampages--the
probable site of my own."
She looked into his laughing eyes with her clear, stedfast, gravely
questioning blue ones. "Do not you Americans know that it is not the
fashion here, in Germany, for the young men and the young women to walk
together--unless they are VERLOBT?"
"VER--which?"
"Engaged." She nodded her head thrice: viciously, decidedly,
mischievously.
"So much the better."
"ACH GOTT!" She made a gesture of hopelessness at his incorrigibility,
and again attempted to withdraw her hands.
"I must go now."
"Well then, good-by."
It was easy to draw her closer by simply lowering her still captive
hands. Then he suddenly kissed her coldly startled lips, and instantly
released her. She as instantly vanished.
"Elsbeth," he called quickly. "Elsbeth!"
Her now really frightened face reappeared with a heightened color from
the dense foliage--quite to his astonishment.
"Hush," she said, with her finger on her lips. "Are you mad?"
"I only wanted to remind you to square me with the Princess," he laughed
as her head disappeared.
He strolled back toward the gate. Scarcely had he quitted the shrubbery
before the same chasseur made his appearance with precisely the same
salute; and, keeping exactly the same distance, accompanied him to the
gate. At the corner of the street he hailed a droshky and was driven to
his hotel.
The landlord came up smiling. He trusted that the Herr had greatly
enjoyed himself at the Schloss. It was a distinguished honor--in fact,
quite unprecedented. Hoffman, while he determined not to commit himself,
nor his late fair companion, was nevertheless anxious to learn something
more of her relations to the Schloss. So pretty, so characteristic, and
marked a figure must be well known to sightseers. Indeed, once or twice
the idea had crossed his mind with a slightly jealous twinge that left
him more conscious of the impression she had made on him than he had
deemed possible. He asked if the model farm and dairy were always shown
by the same attendants.
"ACH GOTT! no doubt, yes; His Royal Highness had quite a retinue when he
was in residence."
"And were these attendants in costume?"
"There was undoubtedly a livery for the servants."
Hoffman felt a slight republican irritation at the epithet--he knew not
why. But this costume was rather a historical one; surely it was not
entrusted to everyday menials--and he briefly described it.
His host's blank curiosity suddenly changed to a look of mysterious and
arch intelligence.
"ACH GOTT! yes!" He remembered now (with his finger on his nose) that
when there was a fest at the Schloss the farm and dairy were filled with
shepherdesses, in quaint costume worn by the ladies of the Grand Duke's
own theatrical company, who assumed the characters with great vivacity.
Surely it was the same, and the Grand Duke had treated the Herr to this
special courtesy. Yes--there was one pretty, blonde young lady--the
Fraulein Wimpfenbuttel, a most popular soubrette, who would play it to
the life! And the description fitted her to a hair! Ah, there was no
doubt of it; many persons, indeed, had been so deceived.
But happily, now that he had given him the wink, the Herr could
corroborate it himself by going to the theater tonight. Ah, it would be
a great joke--quite colossal! if he took a front seat where she could
see him. And the good man rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation.
Hoffman had listened to him with a slow repugnance that was only equal
to his gradual conviction that the explanation was a true one, and
that he himself had been ridiculously deceived. The mystery of his fair
companion's costume, which he had accepted as part of the "show"; the
inconsistency of her manner and her evident occupation; her undeniable
wish to terminate the whole episode with that single interview;
her mingling of worldly aplomb and rustic innocence; her perfect
self-control and experienced acceptance of his gallantry under the
simulated attitude of simplicity--all now struck him as perfectly
comprehensible. He recalled the actress's inimitable touch in certain
picturesque realistic details in the dairy--which she had not spared
him; he recognized it now even in their bowered confidences (how like a
pretty ballet scene their whole interview on the rustic bench was!),
and it breathed through their entire conversation--to their theatrical
parting at the close! And the whole story of the photograph was, no
doubt, as pure a dramatic invention as the rest! The Princess's romantic
interest in him--that Princess who had never appeared (why had he not
detected the old, well-worn, sentimental situation here?)--was all a
part of it. The dark, mysterious hint of his persecution by the police
was a necessary culmination to the little farce. Thank Heaven! he had
not "risen" at the Princess, even if he had given himself away to the
clever actress in her own humble role. Then the humor of the whole
situation predominated and he laughed until the tears came to his eyes,
and his forgotten ancestors might have turned over in their graves
without his heeding them. And with this humanizing influence upon him he
went to the theater.
It was capacious even for the town, and although the performance was a
special one he had no difficulty in getting a whole box to himself. He
tried to avoid this public isolation by sitting close to the next box,
where there was a solitary occupant--an officer--apparently as lonely as
himself. He had made up his mind that when his fair deceiver appeared
he would let her see by his significant applause that he recognized her,
but bore no malice for the trick she had played on him. After all, he
had kissed her--he had no right to complain. If she should recognize
him, and this recognition led to a withdrawal of her prohibition, and
their better acquaintance, he would be a fool to cavil at her pleasant
artifice. Her vocation was certainly a more independent and original
one than that he had supposed; for its social quality and inequality he
cared nothing. He found himself longing for the glance of her calm blue
eyes, for the pleasant smile that broke the seriousness of her sweetly
restrained lips. There was no doubt that he should know her even as the
heroine of DER CZAR UND DER ZIMMERMANN on the bill before him. He was
becoming impatient. And the performance evidently was waiting. A stir
in the outer gallery, the clatter of sabers, the filing of uniforms
into the royal box, and a triumphant burst from the orchestra showed the
cause. As a few ladies and gentlemen in full evening dress emerged from
the background of uniforms and took their places in the front of the
box, Hoffman looked with some interest for the romantic Princess.
Suddenly he saw a face and shoulders in a glitter of diamonds that
startled him, and then a glance that transfixed him.
He leaned over to his neighbor. "Who is the young lady in the box?"
"The Princess Alexandrine."
"I mean the young lady in blue with blond hair and blue eyes."
"It is the Princess Alexandrine Elsbeth Marie Stephanie, the daughter of
the Grand Duke--there is none other there."
"Thank you."
He sat silently looking at the rising curtain and the stage. Then he
rose quietly, gathered his hat and coat, and left the box. When he
reached the gallery he turned instinctively and looked back at the royal
box. Her eyes had followed him, and as he remained a moment motionless
in the doorway her lips parted in a grateful smile, and she waved her
fan with a faint but unmistakable gesture of farewell.
The next morning he left Alstadt. There was some little delay at the
Zoll on the frontier, and when Hoffman received back his trunk it was
accompanied by a little sealed packet which was handed to him by the
Customhouse Inspector. Hoffman did not open it until he was alone.
There hangs upon the wall of his modest apartment in New York a narrow,
irregular photograph ingeniously framed, of himself standing side
by side with a young German girl, who, in the estimation of his
compatriots, is by no means stylish and only passably good-looking.
When he is joked by his friends about the post of honor given to this
production, and questioned as to the lady, he remains silent. The
Princess Alexandrine Elsbeth Marie Stephanie von Westphalen-Alstadt,
among her other royal qualities, knew whom to trust.
More
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The Forest Ranger
From her makeshift bed in the middle of the floor Lee Virginia was awakened next morning by the passing of some one down the hall calling at each door, "Six o'clock!" She had not slept at all till after one. She was lame, heart-weary, and dismayed... The Forest's Greatest Foe
Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answering shouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking through brush, followed by the thudding of feet. Then men could be plainly heard running up the trail. Jim leaned against the... The Forlorn Hope
It was August. "Old Turtle-back" was showing up at the diggin's and the river would reach low water-mark with less than half a foot. Pole in hand, big John Johnson of the crew stood on the rocking raft anchored below The Big Mallard and opposite... The Freebooter
When next Virginia Balfour saw Waring Ridgway she was driving her trap down one of the hit-or-miss streets of Mesa, where derricks, shaft-houses, and gray slag-dumps shoulder ornate mansions conglomerate of many unharmonious details of architecture.... The Friends Of L C Serve Notice
Two men sat in a log cabin on opposite sides of a cheap table. One of them was immersed in a newspaper. His body was relaxed, his mind apparently at ease. The other watched him malevolently. His fingers caressed the handle of a revolver that protr... The Game And The Nation Act First
There can be no doubt of this: All America is divided into two classes,--the quality and the equality. The latter will always recognize the former when mistaken for it. Both will be with us until our women bear nothing but hangs. It was throu... The Game And The Nation Act Second
"That is the only step I have had to take this whole trip," said the Virginian. He holstered his pistol with a jerk. "I have been fearing he would force it on me." And he looked at empty, receding Dakota with disgust. "So nyeh back home!" he mutte... The Game And The Nation Last Act
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Jennings and Woods were now sworn enemies and the stringing of the wires became a matter of intense interest, as this was the test which would prove the truth or fallacy of Jennings' cantankerous harping that the cross-arms were too light. In i... The Gentle Castaways
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T. Victor Sprudell's dinner guests were soon to arrive, and Mr. Sprudell's pearl gray spats were twinkling up and down the corridor of Bartlesville's best hotel, and back and forth between the private dining-room and the Room of Mystery adjoining,... The Ghost In The Crosstrees
I Cyrus Ryder, the President of the South Pacific Exploitation Company, had at last got hold of a "proposition"--all Ryder's schemes were, in his vernacular, "propositions"--that was not only profitable beyond precedent or belief, but that also... The Ghost Of The San Miguel
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Young Norcross soon became vitally engaged with the problems which confronted McFarlane, and his possible enrolment as a guard filled him with a sense of proprietorship in the forest, which made him quite content with Bear Tooth. He set to work at... The Gossips Awake
It was dark when they reached the village, but Wayland declared his ability to go on, although his wounded head was throbbing with fever and he was clinging to the pommel of his saddle; so Berrie rode on. Mrs. McFarlane, hearing the horses on th... The Governor's Answer
Judging that it was almost time for his interview with the governor, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard in the public establo, or stable, and rode at once to the governor's palace. Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea for aid... The Grizzly And The Indians
For a moment Dorothy sat still in bed, afraid to move or cry out while the great animal at the window remained equally motionless. Then she was able to shriek: "Alf! Helena! Somebody--help--help! HELP!" Alfy leapt from her little bed with an ... The Guzman Incident
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With the Kid riding gleefully upon Weary's shoulder they trooped up the path their own feet had helped wear deep to the bunk-house. They looked in at the open door and snorted at the cheerlessness of the place. "Why don't you come back here and st... The Happy Family Herd Sheep
The boys of the Flying U had many faults in common, aside from certain individual frailties; one of their chief weaknesses was over-confidence in their own ability to cope with any situation which might arise, unexpectedly or otherwise, and a belief... The Happy Family Learn Something
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"Say, Andy, where's them dry-farmers?" Big Medicine inquired at the top of his voice when the Happy Family had reached the biscuit-and-syrup stage of supper that evening. "Oh, they're trying to make up their minds whether to bring the old fannin'... The Happy Girl
The stage line which ran from Williams to Bear Tooth (one of the most authentic then to be found in all the West) possessed at least one genuine Concord coach, so faded, so saddened, so cracked, and so splintered that its passengers entered it und... The Hatred Of Big Buffalo
The last of the sap had been reduced to sugar and made into a fine solid cake weighing nearly two pounds, the night that the foregoing conversation took place. With this as a present to the chief of the Delawares, Ree and John set out early the fo... The Heart Of A Desert Wife
"The squaws who come at times to crouch upon my back have the slow listening patience of the rabbits." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. Pen paused, eyes angry, mouth disgusted: "You are the last pers... The Hen Of Wun Sing
But whatever wild schemes were hatching in the heads of the three lads nothing seemed to come of them. Days followed one another in such peaceful routine that Dorothy felt ashamed of her fears, as well as ashamed of her composure regarding Jim ... The Heritage Of The Desert
"MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop will take care of her. She'll be ... The Hermit's Warning
As it was now after midday, we concluded to eat our lunch before going any further, so, sitting down on the rocks, we produced the bread and cold bacon we had brought with us and prepared to refresh ourselves. Observing this, Socrates, who had flo... The Honk-honk Breed
It was Sunday at the ranch. For a wonder the weather had been favourable; the windmills were all working, the bogs had dried up, the beef had lasted over, the remuda had not strayed--in short, there was nothing to do. Sang had given us a baked bre... The Honorable Thomas B Pelton
It was next morning that Steve came into Ridgway's offices with a copy of the Rocky Mountain Herald in his hands. As soon as the president of the Mesa Ore-producing Company was through talking with Dalton, the superintendent of the Taurus, about the... The Hoodoo Outfit
Pop Daggett hesitated and glanced uneasily toward the door. "I warned yuh, didn't I, the Shoe-Bar was a hoodoo outfit?" he evaded. Stratton shook some tobacco into a cigarette-paper and jerked the draw-string with his teeth. "Sure you did, ... The Hospitality Of Travennes
Mr. Buck Peters rode into Alkaline one bright September morning and sought refreshment at the Emporium. Mr. Peters had just finished some business for his employer and felt the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge of work well done. He exp... The Idyl Of Red Gulch
Sandy was very drunk. He was lying under an azalea bush, in pretty much the same attitude in which he had fallen some hours before. How long he had been lying there he could not tell, and didn't care; how long he should lie there was a matter equa... The Indiscretion Of Elsbeth
The American paused. He had evidently lost his way. For the last half hour he had been wandering in a medieval town, in a profound medieval dream. Only a few days had elapsed since he had left the steamship that carried him hither; and the accents... The Intruder
After closing the door through which she had entered, Barbara Morgan slipped the fastenings into place and stood, an ear pressed against the door, listening for sounds that would tell her Harlan had followed her. But beyond the door all was silenc... The Invisible Hand
Jane received a letter from Bishop Dyer, not in his own handwriting, which stated that the abrupt termination of their interview had left him in some doubt as to her future conduct. A slight injury had incapacitated him from seeking anothe... The Jack-pot
As Uncle Bill Griswold came breathless from the raging whiteness outside with an armful of bark and wood, the two long icicles hanging from the ends of his mustache made him look like an industrious walrus. He drew the fuel beside the tiny, sheet-... The Jimmyjohn Boss
I One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial man stood by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand, and with his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He had come with the boy on the branch tr... The Judge Ignores Particulars
"Do you often have these visitations?" Ogden inquired of Judge Henry. Our host was giving us whiskey in his office, and Dr. MacBride, while we smoked apart from the ladies, had repaired to his quarters in the foreman's house previous to the servic... The Judgment Of God
The man who had entered with such violence upon so violent a scene, stood waiting till the smoke of Pierre's discharge had cleared away, then, still holding his gun in readiness, he stepped across the room and bent over the fallen man. "I've ki... The Jump
He brought Satan back to a hand canter, and so he pulled around the next curve of the gulch and saw the trap squarely in front. He came to a full halt. For he saw a tall, strong barbed-wire fence stretching across the stream-bed, and beyond the fenc... The Kid Has Ideas Of His Own
The Old Man sat out in his big chair on the porch, smoking and staring dully at the trail which led up the bluff by way of the Hog's Back to the benchland beyond. Facing him in an old, cane rocking chair, the Honorable Blake smoked with that air of ... The Kid Is Used For A Pawn In The Game
Did you ever stop to think of the tremendous moral lesson in the Bible tale of David and Goliath? And how great, human issues are often decided one way or the other by little things? Not all crises are passed in the clashing of swords and the boom o... The Kid Learns Some Things About Horses
The Kid--Chip's Kid and the Little Doctor's--was six years old and big for his age. Also he was a member in good standing of the Happy Family and he insisted upon being called Buck outside the house; within it the Little Doctor insisted even more st... The Killer
Lidgerwood had found little difficulty in getting on the companionable side of Dawson, so far as the heavy-muscled, silent young draftsman had a companionable side; and an invitation to the family dinner-table at the Dawson cottage on the low mesa... The King Of The Big Horn Country
Two months before this time Helen Messiter had been serenely teaching a second grade at Kalamazoo, Michigan, notwithstanding the earnest efforts of several youths of that city to induce her to retire to domesticity "What's the use of being a schoolm... The Kingdom Of Joy
A prince of the Kingdom of Joy rode the Piceance trail on a morning glad with the song of birds and the rippling of brooks. Knee to knee with him rode his princess, slim and straight, the pink in her soft smooth cheeks, a shy and eager light in th... The Knife
In every community, be it never so small, there are undesirable citizens; and, while the little party was still at breakfast on the following morning, three such members of society came around the cabin and let fall their packs, greeting the occup... The Lady From The Past
Stratton's first feeling was that the girl must have made a mistake. In a dazed fashion he stepped forward and helped her out of the buckboard, but this was a more or less mechanical action and because she so evidently expected it. As he took her ... The Land Of The Musk-ox
A far cry it was from bright June at Port Chippewayan to dim October on Great Slave Lake. Two long, laborious months Rea and Jones threaded the crooked shores of the great inland sea, to halt at the extreme northern end, where a plunging rivulet ... The Last Frontier
Many men were in debt to the trader at Flambeau, and many counted him as a friend. The latter never reasoned why, except that he had done them favors, and in the North that counts for much. Perhaps they built likewise upon the fact that he was eve... The Last Herd
Over gray No-Man's-Land stole down the shadows of night. The undulating prairie shaded dark to the western horizon, rimmed with a fading streak of light. Tall figures, silhouetted sharply against the last golden glow of sunset, marked the rounded cr... The Leopardess
Pierre stood before the cheap bureau of his ugly hotel bedroom turning a red slip of cardboard about in his fingers. The gas-jet sputtering above his head threw heavy shadows down on his face. It was the face of hopeless, heartsick youth, the musc... The Letter In The Chaps
Though hours may drag themselves into the past so sluggishly that one is fairly maddened by the snail's pace of them, into the past they must go eventually. Jean had sat and listened to the wheels of the Golden State Limited clank over the cryptic ... The Light Of Western Stars
Blinded, like a wild creature, Madeline Hammond ran to her room. She felt as if a stroke of lightning had shattered the shadowy substance of the dream she had made of real life. The wonder of Danny Mains's story, the strange regret with which she ha... The Little Missouri
A week later we crossed the Belle Fourche, sometimes called the North Fork of the Big Cheyenne. Like its twin sister on the south, it was a mountain river, having numerous affluents putting in from the Black Hills, which it encircled on the north an... The Living Dead
"Oh, I want to go back to the Rio Grande! The Rio! That's where I long to be!" The words, sung in a soft and musical tenor, died away and changed to a plaintive whistle, leaving the scene more lonely than ever. For a few moments n... The Long Arm Of Power
Presently Corrigan lit a cigar, biting the end off carefully, to keep it from coming in contact with his bruised lips. When the cigar was going well, he looked at Braman. "What is Trevison?" Pale, still dizzy from the effects of the blow on t... The Long Arm Of The Law
From the first the wound healed rapidly, for Vic's blood was perfectly pure, the mountain air a tonic which strengthened him, and his food and care of the best. The high-powered rifle bullet whipped cleanly through his shoulder, breaking no bone and... The Long Trail
The round-up crew started early the next morning, just about sun-up. Senor Johnson rode first, merely to keep out of the dust. Then followed Torn Rich, jogging along easily in the cow-puncher's "Spanish trot" whistling soothingly to quiet the horse... The Long Way Round
Miss Allen turned to yell encouragingly to the Kid, and she saw that he was going on slowly, his head turned to watch her. She told him to wait where he was, and she would come around the mountain and get him and take him home. "Do you hear me, baby... The Lost Landslide Mine
"They cut the ropes! See, here is where it was done, on this jagged rock!" As Dave spoke he pointed to a sharp edge of stone. Beneath it were bits of rope, showing how the fetters had been sawed in twain. "One of 'em must have got loose and t... The Lost Mine Of The Padres
In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and the wild solitude. Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller. He was an atrocious liar, ... The Love Of Poleon Doret
To the girl crouching at the stern of Runnion's boat it seemed as if this day and night would never end. It seemed as if the procession of natural events must have ceased, that there was no longer any time, for she had been suffering steadily for ... The Luck Of Roaring Camp
There was commotion in Roaring Camp. It could not have been a fight, for in 1850 that was not novel enough to have called together the entire settlement. The ditches and claims were not only deserted, but "Tuttle's grocery" had contributed its gam... The Lumbermen
For a full moment I just lay still, hugging the ground, and I did not seem to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, I guardedly looked from behind the tree. One of the lumbermen threw brush on the fire, making it blaze brig... The Magic Of Ben Stark
Before the party came in sight, the sound of their voices reached the cabin, and Burrell rose nervously and sauntered to the door. Uncertain how this affair might terminate, he chose to get first look at his enemies, if they should prove to be suc... The Makon Road
"Always the strongest coyote makes the new trail. The pack is content to continue in the old." MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. The building of the road from the valley to the crevice edge was not a ... The Malice Of A Squaw
Good Indian looked in the hammock, but Evadna was not there. He went to the little stone bench at the head of the pond, and when he still did not see her he followed the bank around to the milk-house, where was a mumble of voices. And, standing in t...