The Princess Virginia Part 7

"And as for my knowledge of Rhaetian, I've always been interested in the study of languages. Languages are fascinating to conquer; and then, the literature of your country is so splendid, one must be able to read it at first hand. Now, you'll have to say 'yes' to the ring, won't you, and keep it for your Emperor's sake, if not for mine?"

"May I not keep it for yours as well?"

"Yes, if you please. And--about the milk?"

The chamois hunter caught up a gaudy jug, and without further words, went out. When he had gone, the Princess rose and, taking the knife he had used to cut the bread and ham, she kissed the handle on the place where his fingers had grasped it. "You're a very silly girl, Virginia, my dear," she said. "But oh, how you do love him. How he is _worth_ loving, and--what a glorious hour you're having!"

For ten minutes she sat alone, perhaps more; then the door was flung open and her host flung himself in, no longer with the gay air which had sat like a cloak upon him, but hot and sulky, the jug in his hand as empty as when he had gone out.

"I have failed," he said gloomily. "I have failed, though I promised you the milk."

"Couldn't you find a cow?" asked Virginia.

"Oh yes, I found one, more than one, and caught them too. I even forced them to stand still, and grasped them by their udders, but not a drop of milk would come down. Abominable brutes! I would gladly have killed them, but that would have given you no milk."

For her life, the Princess could not help laughing, his air was so desperate. If only those cows could have known who he was, and appreciated the honor!

"Pray, pray don't mind," she begged. "You have done more than most men could have done. After all, I'll have a gla.s.s of Rhaetian beer with you, to drink your health and that of your Emperor. I wonder by the by if he, who prides himself on doing all things well, can milk a cow?"

"If not, he should learn," said the chamois hunter, viciously.

"There's no knowing, it seems, when one may need the strangest accomplishments, and be humiliated for lack of them."

"No, not humiliated," Virginia a.s.sured him. "It's always instructive to find out one's limitations. And you have been most good to me. See, while you were gone, I ate the slice of bread and ham you cut, and never did a meal taste better. Now, you must have many things to do, which I've made you leave undone. I've trespa.s.sed on you too long."

"Indeed, lady, it seems scarcely a moment since you came, and I have no work to do," the chamois hunter insisted.

"But I've a friend waiting for me, on the mountain," the Princess confessed. "Luckily, she had her lunch and will have eaten it, and her guide-book must have kept her happy for a while; but by this time I'm afraid she's anxious, and would be coming in search of me, if she dared to stir. I must go. Will you tell me by what name I shall remember my--rescuer, when I recall this day?"

"They named me--for the Emperor."

"They were wise. It suits you. Then I shall think of you as Leopold.

Leopold--what? But no, don't tell me the other name. It _can't_ be good enough to match the first; for do you know, I admire the name of Leopold more than any other I've ever heard? So, Leopold, will you shake hands for good-by?"

The strong hand came out eagerly, and pressed hers. "Thank you, gna'

Fraulein; but it's not good-by yet. You must let me help you back by the way you came, and down the mountain."

"Will you really? I dared not ask as much, for fear, in spite of your kind hospitality, you were--like your n.o.ble namesake--a hater of women."

"That's too hard a word, even for an Emperor, lady. While as for me, if I ever said to myself, 'no woman can be of much good to a man as a real companion,' I'm ready to unsay it."

"I'm glad! Then you shall come with me, and help me; and you shall help my friend, who is so good and so strong-minded that perhaps she may make you think even better of our s.e.x. If you will, you shall be our guide down to Alleheiligen, where we've been staying at the inn since last night. Besides all that, if you wish to be _very_ good, you may carry our cloaks and rucksacks, which seem so heavy to us, but will be nothing for your strong shoulders."

The face of the chamois hunter changed and changed again with such amused appreciation of her demands, that Virginia turned her head away, lest she should laugh, and thus let him guess that she held the key to the inner situation.

His willingness to become a cowherd, and now a beast of burden for the foreign lady he had seen, and her friend whom he had not seen, was indubitably genuine. He was pleased with the adventure--if not as pleased as his initiated companion. For the next few hours the hunter was free, it seemed. He said that he had been out since early dawn, and had had good luck. Later, he had returned to the hut for a meal and a rest, while his friends went down to the village on business which concerned them all. As they had not come back, they were probably amusing themselves, and when he had given the ladies all the a.s.sistance in his power, he would join them.

The way down was easy to Virginia, with his hand to help her when it was needed, and she had never been so happy in her twenty years. But, after all, she asked herself, as they neared the place where she had left Miss Portman, what had she accomplished? What impression was she leaving? Would this radiant morning of adventure do her good or harm with Leopold when Miss Mowbray should meet him later, in some conventional way, through letters of introduction to Court dignitaries at Kronburg?

While she wondered, his voice broke into her questionings.

"I hope, gna' Fraulein," the chamois hunter was saying, almost shyly and as if by an effort, "that you won't go away from our country thinking that we Rhaetians are so cold of heart and blood as you've seemed to fancy. We men of the mountains may be different from others you have seen, but we're not more cold. The torrent of our blood may sleep for a season under ice, but when the spring comes--as it must--and the ice melts, then the torrent gushes forth the more hotly because it has not spent its strength before."

"I shall remember your words," said the Princess, "for--my journal of Rhaetia. And now, here's my poor friend. I shall have to make her a thousand excuses."

For her journal of Rhaetia! For a moment the man looked wistful, as if it were a pain to him that he would have no other place in her thoughts, nor time to win it, since there sat a lady in a tourist's hat, and eye-gla.s.ses, and the episode was practically closed. He looked too, as if there was something he would add to his last words if he could; but Miss Portman saw the two advancing figures, and shrieked a shrill cry of thanksgiving.

"Oh, I have been so _dreadfully_ anxious!" she groaned, "What _has_ kept you? Have you had an accident? Thank heaven you're here. I began to give up hope of ever seeing you again alive."

"Perhaps you never would, if it hadn't been for the help of this good and brave new friend of mine," said Virginia, hurrying into explanations. "I got into dreadful difficulties up there; it was much worse than I thought, but Leopold--" (Miss Portman started, stared with her near-sighted eyes at the tall, brown man with bare knees; colored, gasped, and swallowed hard after a quick glance at her Princess.) "Leopold happened to be near, came to my help and saved me.

Wasn't it providential? Oh, I a.s.sure you, Leopold is a monarch--of chamois hunters. Give him your cloak and rucksack to carry with mine, dear Miss Manchester. He's kind enough to say that he'll guide us all the way down to Alleheiligen, and I'm glad to accept his service."

Miss Portman--a devout Royalist, and firm believer in the right of kings--grew crimson, her nose especially, as it invariably did at moments of strong emotion.

The Emperor of Rhaetia, here, caught and trapped, like Pegasus bound to the plow, and forced to carry luggage as if he were a common porter--worst of all, _her_ insignificant, twice wretched luggage!

She would have protested if she had dared; but she did not dare, and was obliged to see that imperial form--unmistakably imperial, it seemed to her, though masquerading in humble guise--loaded down with her rucksack and her large golf cape, with goloshes in the pocket.

Crushed under the magnitude of her discovery, dazzled by the surprising brilliance of the Princess's capture, stupefied by the fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining her idol's bizarre triumph, poor Miss Portman staggered as Virginia helped her to her feet.

"Why, you're cramped with sitting so long!" cried the Princess. "Be careful! But Leopold will give you his arm. Leopold will take you down, won't you, Leopold?"

And the Imperial Eagle, who had hoped for better things, meekly allowed another link to be added to his chain.

CHAPTER V

LEO VERSUS LEOPOLD

"Ach, Himmel!" exclaimed Frau Yorvan; and "Ach Himmel!" she exclaimed again, her voice rising to a wail, with a frantic uplifting of the hands.

The Grand d.u.c.h.ess grew pale, for the apple-cheeked lady suddenly exhibited these alarming signs of emotion while pa.s.sing a window of the private dining-room. Evidently some scene of horror was being enacted outside; and--Virginia and Miss Portman had been away for many hours.

It was the time for tea in England, for coffee in Rhaetia; Frau Yorvan had just brought in coffee for one, with heart-shaped, sugared cakes, which would have appealed more poignantly to the Grand d.u.c.h.ess's appet.i.te, if the absent ones had been with her to share them.

Naturally, at the good woman's outburst, her imagination instantly pictured disaster to the one she loved.

"What--oh, what is it you see?" she implored, her heart leaping, then falling. But for once, the courtesy due to an honored guest was forgotten, and the distracted Frau Yorvan fled from the room without giving an answer.

Half paralyzed with dread of what she might have to see, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess tottered to the window. Was there--yes, there was a procession, coming down the hilly street that led to town from the mountain. Oh, horror upon horror! They were perhaps bringing Virginia down, injured or dead, her beautiful face crushed out of recognition.

Yet no--there was Virginia herself, the central figure in the procession. Thank Heaven, it could be nothing worse than an accident to poor, dear Miss Portman--But there was Miss Portman too; and a very tall, bronzed peasant man, loaded with cloaks and rucksacks, headed the band, while the girl and her ex-governess followed after.

Unspeakably relieved, yet still puzzled and vaguely alarmed, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess threw up the window overlooking the little village square. But as she strove to attract the truants' attention by waving her hand and crying out a welcome or a question, whichever should come first, the words were arrested on her lips. What could be the matter with Frau Yorvan?

The stout old landlady popped out through the door like a Jack out of his box, on a very stiff spring, flew to the overloaded peasant, and almost rudely elbowing Miss Portman aside, began distractedly bobbing up and down, tearing at the bundle of rucksacks and cloaks. Her inarticulate cries ascended like incense to the Grand d.u.c.h.ess at the open window, adding much to the lady's intense bewilderment.

"What has that man been doing?" demanded the Grand d.u.c.h.ess in a loud, firm voice; but n.o.body answered, for the very good reason that n.o.body heard. The attention of all those below was entirely taken up with their own concerns.