Sophy of Kravonia Part 21

Suddenly a childish voice rang out clear through the hall--a fearless, eager little voice.

"What's that you've got on your cheek?" asked young Alexis, with engaging candor; his finger pointed at Sophy's face.

So quaint an interruption to the stately formality of the scene struck people's sense of humor. Everybody laughed--even Countess Ellenburg.

Sophy's own laugh rose rich and merry. Her ignorance or carelessness of etiquette betrayed itself; she darted at the pretty boy, caught him in her arms, and kissed him, answering: "That's my luck--my Red Star."

The boy touched the mark with his finger; a look of childish awe came into his blue eyes.

"Your luck!" he said, softly, and continued to look at the mysterious sign after Sophy had set him down again. The little scene was told all over Slavna before night--and men and women talked, according to their temper, of the nature and the meaning of the Red Star. If only the foolish think about such things, even the wise talk.

The King left his chair and mingled with his guests. His movement was the signal for a general relaxation of ceremony. The Prince came across the room and joined Sophy, who had returned to Marie Zerkovitch's side.

He offered the Baroness his congratulations, but in somewhat constrained tones. His mind seemed to be on something else; once or twice he looked inquiringly at Marie, who in her turn showed signs of restlessness or distress. A silence followed on Sophy's expression of her acknowledgments. The Prince glanced again at Marie and made up his mind to speak.

"You've done me the kindness I asked?" he inquired of Marie.

Marie picked at the feathers of her fan in unhappy embarra.s.sment. "No, sir, I haven't. I--I couldn't."

"But why not?" he asked in surprise.

"I--I couldn't," repeated Marie, flus.h.i.+ng.

He looked at her gravely for a moment, then smiled. "Then I must plead my own cause," he said, and turned to Sophy. "Next week I'm leaving Slavna and going to my Castle of Praslok. It's near Volseni, you know, and I want to raise and train my gunners at Volseni. We must be ready for our guns when they come, mustn't we?"

His eyes met hers--eager glance exchanged for glance as eager. "Our guns!" whispered Sophy under her breath.

"Marie here and Zerkovitch have promised to come with me. He'll write what ought to be written, and she'll cook the dinners." He laughed. "Oh, well, we do live very simply at Praslok. We shall be there three months at least. I asked Marie to persuade you to come with her and to stay as long as you could. But she's disappointed me. I must plead for myself."

The changing expressions of Sophy's eyes had marked every sentence of his speech, and Marie marked every expression of the eyes. They had grown forlorn and apprehensive when he spoke of leaving Slavna; a sudden joy leaped into them at his invitation to Praslok.

"You'll come for a little? The scenery is very fine, and the people interesting."

Sophy gave a low laugh. "Since the scenery is fine and the people interesting--yes, Monseigneur."

Their eyes met again, and he echoed back her laugh. Marie Zerkovitch drew in her breath sharply. With swift insight she saw--and foresaw. She remembered the presentiment, under whose influence she had begged Sophy not to come to Kravonia. But fate had weighted the scales heavily against her. The Baroness Dobrava was here.

The Prince turned to Marie with a puzzled look. Sophy was lost in glad antic.i.p.ations. Marie met the Prince's look with a deprecating imploring glance. He frowned a little--not in anger, but in puzzle; what she foresaw he himself had not yet divined; he was feeling the joy without understanding it.

"At any rate you're not responsible now if we do freeze her to death with our mountain snows," he said in a jest which veiled friendly reproach.

"No, at least I'm not responsible," Marie answered.

There was a note in her voice now which commanded even Sophy's pre-engaged attention. She looked sharply at her friend--and perhaps she understood. But she did not yield to the suggestion. She drew herself up proudly. "I'm not afraid of what may happen to me at Praslok, Monseigneur," she said.

A simultaneous exclamation of many voices broke across their talk. At the other end of the room, men and women pressed into a circle round some point of interest which could not be seen by Sophy and her companions. A loud voice rang out in authoritative tones: "Stand back!

Stand back--and open all the windows!"

"That's Natcheff's voice," said the Prince. Natcheff was the leading physician of Slavna. "Somebody's fainted, I suppose. Well, the place is stuffy enough!"

Markart emerged from the circle, which had widened out in obedience to the physician's orders. As he hurried past the Prince, he said: "The King has fainted, sir. I'm going to fetch Lepage." Two or three other men ran and opened the windows.

"The King fainted! I never knew him do that before."

He hastened to where his father lay, the subject of Natcheff's ministrations. Sophy and Marie followed in his wake through the opening which the onlookers made for him. The King showed signs of recovering, but Natcheff's face was grave beyond even the requirements of his profession or of his patient's rank. The next moment Lepage came up.

This man, the King's body-servant, was a small, plump person, who had generally a weary, impa.s.sive, uninterested manner. He looked rather uninterested even now, but his walk was very quick, and he was soon aiding Natcheff with deft and nimble fingers.

"This is strange, Lepage," said Natcheff.

Lepage did not look up from his task.

"Has it ever happened before?"

Then Lepage did look up. He appeared to consider and to hesitate. He glanced once at the King before he answered.

"It's the third attack in two months," he said, at last.

"You never told me!" The words shot sharp from Natcheff's lips.

"That was by His Majesty's peremptory orders. He'll be angry that I've told you now."

"Clear the room!" ordered Natcheff, shortly.

Slavna had plenty to talk about that night. Besides the Baroness Dobrava's Red Star, there was the fainting fit of King Alexis! The evening bulletin was entirely favorable; the King had quite recovered.

But many had heard Lepage's confession and seen the look that it brought to Natcheff's face.

Stenovics and Stafnitz rode back from the Palace to the city side by side. The General was silent, immersed in deep thought. Stafnitz smoked his cigarette with a light, rather mocking smile. At last, when they were almost opposite the terrace of the Hotel de Paris, Stenovics spoke.

"It looks like the handwriting on the wall," he said.

"Quite so, General," Stafnitz agreed, cheerfully. "But at present there's no evidence to show to whom, besides the King himself, the message is addressed."

"Or what it says?"

"I think that's plain enough, General. I think it says that the time is short."

He watched his companion's face closely now. But Stenovics's mask was stolid and unmoved; he said nothing; he contented himself with a sullen grunt.

"Short for the King!" pursued Stafnitz, with a shake of his head. "Short for the Prince, perhaps! And certainly, General, uncomfortably short for us!"

Stenovics grunted again, and then rode on some while in silence. At last, just as he was about to part from his companion, he made one observation:

"Fortunately Natcheff is a friend of mine; we shall get the best possible information."

"That might become of importance, no doubt, General," said Stafnitz, smiling still.

VIII