There was a laughing devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear; And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, Hope withering, fled, and mercy sighed farewell. —Byron: Corsair.
The supreme moment in the lives of both Nicholas and myself had arrived. But Solonika's strange behaviour had unnerved me, and I felt unequal to it. The presence of the landlord in the room, directing his servants as they placed the steaming dinner upon the table, gave me an opportunity for delay.
With Solonika obdurate and my own ignorance of the country, escape was impossible, unless Nicholas would help. He was my only hope. If I could win his sympathy and cause him to place his knowledge, power and influence at my disposal, for the sake of our friendship, there was a chance that we might win our way out of this terrible country in safety.
While we had been riding toward the inn, I had mapped out a plan of escape. There was the General's yacht lying at Bizzett with steam up, ready to take Nicholas and me to Naples in the morning. If we motored as near the gates as possible and bought or stole horses from a neighbouring farmer; if we disguised Solonika in a peasant girl's costume, changing the description of the party, we might ride under Castle Comada to freedom. Attired as he was in his Grand Duke's uniform, Nicholas's orders to the officer in charge would be promptly obeyed. This officer would have instructions to stop an automobile party, but he would not stop us.
Once out to sea on the yacht we were safe. No Bharbazonian would ask a Turk a favour; consequently our passage through the Bosphorus past the fortresses of Scutari and Constantinople would not be interfered with. Nick could go with us, hastening his departure one day, thus escaping any retribution his countrymen might desire to wreak upon him for lending us aid.
If we had been in any other country under the sun, I had no doubt but that Nicholas would stand shoulder to shoulder with me and gladly fight it out to the bitter end. But this was Bharbazonia, and Nicholas was a Bharbazonian. Would he be a friend first and a patriot second? Politically, the dénouement in the Cathedral and the flight of Solonika might be a great aid to the Secret Order of the Cross. The lack of an heir played into their hands. It might serve the purpose of Nicholas and his countrymen to get Solonika out of the country.
Again, the love he professed to bear Solonika should urge him to save her from the infuriated mob which, he would shortly know, was even now riding furiously after us clamouring for her innocent life. How much stress this love would stand I could not guess. He had seen the Prince's affectionate parting with me at the foot of the stairs and, when the full import of that scene burst upon him, as it surely would when I told him of the truth, how would he be able to control his jealousy?
Above all, the sacrilege! A woman had defiled his altar. Nick as I knew and loved him in America, was not deeply religious. But what was he in Bharbazonia? How deeply engrained in his nature, through centuries of ancestry, was his respect for the Greek church, the protected creed of his loved country? I seemed to see again as I looked at his frowning face, turning these things over in my mind, a pair of strong hands clutching an imaginary throat.
As against all these deep-rooted motives, of patriotism, jealousy, religion, the only faintly shining star of hope to which I might look was the weak little star of friendship. Friendship, the most beautiful love in the world, the most disinterested, was to be put to the test.
Nicholas! he alone could save Solonika; he alone could get us through the gates to the yacht. He had never failed me before, would he fail me now? I faced him, determined to make one supreme effort to save the life of the woman I loved.
"Dîner est preparé," announced the landlord.
I was glad of the interruption. In the struggle which was to follow there was little in my favour. Better take advantage of everything chance afforded. A man well fed is a man half convinced.
"I will explain while we are eating, Nick," I said, taking my place at the table and waving him into the opposite chair. The third seat remained vacant. "Landlord, we will wait upon ourselves. You and your servants may retire."
"Très bien," he murmured as he drove his hirelings from the room like a woman shooing chickens, and closed the door.
Nick ate with the appetite of a hungry, healthy boy.
"Hadn't we better call the King?" said he, indicating the vacant chair. "He must be very nearly starved, also."
I knew that the "king" could not eat, and assured Nick that something would be sent to his room. At last I hit upon a way to begin my explanation. For the sake of policy I chose to start it by putting Nick on the defensive.
"Nick," I said, "why did you not tell Gregory and his half-blind Prime Minister that they were mistaken; that you were the principal actor in that little scene in the Palace Garden, and not the Prince?"
He flushed to the eyes with shame, just as he did when caught by a policeman, in the old days, appropriating a Woodland avenue sign for purposes of room decoration.
"It came too suddenly," he replied. "I had no time to think. I admit I acted like a cad, Dale, but I shall do my part like a man to-morrow. How would you like to be placed in such a position before such an audience and have to own up that you had been behaving like a naughty little schoolboy?"
"What do you propose doing? Confessing to the new King?"
"That is my intention now; but I must see the General before I act. This is a matter which concerns Bharbazonia, and there may be good and sufficient reasons why the Secret Order may desire things to take their course."
"And in that event your love for your country would render you passive in the face of such an injustice?"
"Yes; but do not misunderstand me, Dale. I have been trained all my life, as you know, in the diplomatic service of both Russia and Bharbazonia. I have lived long enough to see that the man who "would rather be right than be President" is frequently right, but never President. Of course deep down in our hearts we all desire to be right; it is the only safe, sure foundation; as a matter of policy it is best. But, there is such a thing in this world as power. I have noticed that the idealist who desires to be right all the time, who makes no concession to the wrong, is frequently crushed under the wheels of power. Thus has the army of Right lost the services of many valiant soldiers. A better policy, I have learned, is to temporize; to shut one's eyes sometimes. By so doing one gains in strength until one becomes a power and is in a position to order lines of right action—"
"A dangerous policy, Nick," I interrupted. "By that time you will have connived so often with wrong that you are able no longer to combat it. Your moral fibre will have deteriorated and there will be nothing left of you but that which you have sacrificed all for—power."
"It is the difference between the ideal and the practical; the ideal fails; the practical succeeds. When the world becomes ideal this order will be reversed. But, until that time, I for one will endeavour to be practical. Therefore, if my brothers deem it best for me to marry Princess Teskla, I shall abide by their decision. If not, so be it."
Here was a side of Nick's character with which I had not reckoned. Before such devotion to organization, simple friendship might be thrown overboard to struggle in the depth with the other idealistic stripling Truth.
"How did the new King take it?" asked Nick. "From what I could see he did not lose his presence of mind. What did he do?"
Nothing was to be gained by further evasion. If I had to depend upon the stability of his affection for me, I might as well put it to the test now as at any other time. I plunged in boldly.
"You are mistaken, Nick," I said. "The Prince did lose his nerve and made a terrible mess of the whole affair. Instead of accepting the inevitable—of standing pat as it were—he revealed a secret which he should have kept, and to-day his father and he stand in the shadow of the valley of death."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember the vague suspicions of General Palmora which we talked of coming over on the boat and which you scoffed at as absurd?"
"Something concerning the remarkable likeness existing between Solonika and her twin brother, coupled with the suggestion that the two had never been seen together? But, you, yourself, told me you exploded that theory."
"The more I see of General Palmora the greater grows my respect for him and his opinions. We laughed at him when he told us that King Gregory was planning to make capital out of your flirtation with Princess Teskla. But we now know he was right. We also laughed at him when he told us he suspected there was only one child born to the House of Dhalmatia the night he and your father rode. But again he is right."
"Speak plainly, Dale," said Nick with contracting brows, "you mean—"
"That the midwife who died announced the truth when she tolled the bell seven times!"
Nick's hands gripped the edge of the white cloth; his eyes stared into mine with a look I could not fathom. Slowly he arose, his overturned chair falling with a crash to the floor. I, too, came reluctantly to my feet, not knowing what to expect, but desiring to be ready for any emergency.
"A daughter!" he cried, as if he could not believe it. "A daughter and no son! Then the person who was made King of Bharbazonia to-day is a—woman?"
Amazement deepened upon his face as the full significance of my words came home to him. It was a condition of affairs which he had always refused to countenance, and his brain worked slowly. But it was too absurd.
"Surely, Dale," he cried, "you do not mean this? You are joking?"
"I would to God that it were not true. But it is no joke, Nick. The Prince is a woman."
"Bosh!" he exclaimed. "I refuse to believe it."
I saw that I must convince him. His attitude showed me how safe Solonika's secret had been. Oh, if she had but listened to the advice of her father and kept her own counsel!
"Listen, Nick," I said. "I am not the only one who knows this. General Palmora knows it now. In fact all Bharbazonia knows. They had it from the lips of the Prince in the Cathedral. After you went out he denied that he had kissed the Princess and said that, even if he had, he could not have broken the law because he was not a man, but a woman. Then we fled to you and came here."
"Good God," cried he aghast. "That explains the cries in the Cathedral. The Patriarch's voice! What was he saying?"
Slowly he arrived at the inevitable conclusion. I felt the crisis coming, and nerved myself for the shock. Violently he struck the table a heavy blow with his clenched fist and shouted the one word uttered by the High Priest, in a voice startlingly like the bull-like bellow of the Patriarch:
"Sacrilege!"
I watched him tensely as his glance left my face and travelled swiftly up the stair until it rested on Solonika's door. His soul was in the grip of a hatred so deadly that I feared it would get beyond his control. He wore a more fearful expression than when he told me in the library that, if such an outrage were committed against the church, he would be the first to strangle the offender to death with his own hands. The vengeance of Bharbazonia was at hand. But, quick as was his sudden spring toward her room, I was quicker, and stood ready for him, blocking the way on the bottom step. We faced each other like young tigers over fallen prey.
I must not lose my temper. I needed my coolest judgment and my calmest presence of mind. But, as I stood there with clenched fists, I could feel the powerful magnetic waves of his deep passion surging through me with all the force of an electric current. I seemed to hear the sound of rushing wind through tense wires. I clenched my teeth and felt that the cords of friendship were snapping one by one.
But there was one more brand to be hurled among the burning. Depending upon the way Nicholas would take it, it would either add to the fire or help to put it out.
"Would you harm Solonika?" I said.
Just as the glow of the flame leaves the darkened sky when new wood is added, so died down the burning light of hate in Nick's eye when I mentioned Solonika's name. Here was something upon which he had not counted. Up to now in his mind, the woman who had affronted the trust of the Kingdom, who had put insult upon the church, had been only a woman. I had given her a name and, in so doing, had brought him suddenly face to face with the appalling fact that the guilty one was the woman he loved.
Skeptical as I had been of the depth of his affection in view of his conduct in the Palace garden, I soon found that I was mistaken. Where a woman is concerned men do not wear their hearts upon their sleeves. True, Nick had smilingly told me that we were rivals long ago in the summer-house. He had always been unnaturally diffident in Solonika's presence, and treated her with unusual consideration. Every moment which had not been occupied with business of state had been devoted to her during our stay in Bharbazonia, and he had been with her almost as much as I.
There could be no doubt that my words had a wonderful effect. His former passion left him weak and trembling. Staring at me like one convinced against his will, he backed away from the steps and sank into a chair.
"Solonika," he whispered. "Oh, God, do not tell me it is Solonika."
So firm had been his faith that even now he did not connect the Prince and Solonika in this tragedy. To him they were separate persons. It had not occurred to him that the Prince who had committed this sacrilege could possibly be Solonika.
"It cannot be true. There must be some mistake," he said. The suffering in his voice touched my heart. Could it be possible that he, too, loved this woman as deeply and truly as I did?
"There is no mistake. She who is in yonder room is Solonika," I said.
"How could she do it, Dale? How could she do it?" he repeated.
"She had no alternative, Nick. The Red Fox, her father, was as ambitious as Brutus said Cæsar was."
Thank God, he did love Solonika. He would help her to escape. Surely his love for her would urge him to do what I, without hope of reward, had done in Marbosa's lodge. I risked my life for her and he could do no less. Now was the time to strike.
"Nicholas," I said, speaking quickly, "Solonika is pursued by the peasantry, the nobles, the army and the church. Even as we talk they are coming down that road from Nischon searching for her. You know what they will do if they find her. They will rend her limb from limb, before our eyes. There is only one man in Bharbazonia can help her to-night. The gates of Comada are shut against us. Beyond them is the General's yacht. It is ready to sail with us in the morning. I am powerless to win the way to the vessel. The captain would not sail without orders from you or the General. I am unable to save her. You and you alone can do it!"
"I understand," said Nicholas.
"For God's sake, do not fail me now. If you love her as I do you cannot stand idle and see her die in this horrible manner. Will you do it, Lassie? For the sake of the love you bear me, of the friendship that is ever ours, help me to save her. She is so little; she is so weak; she is so innocent. Her father is the guilty one. He drove her to commit this awful sacrilege against your church. Nick, oh my friend, you have never refused me anything. You will not refuse me this!"
"It's true," he cried, leaping to his feet. "She may yet escape. I can save her. They are still a long way behind."
He ran to the door and called into the night air:
"Okio! Okio! We leave here in two minutes."
The victory of friendship was complete. Nick's love for Solonika had overcome his Bharbazonian respect for the Greek church; he seemed to have forgotten the sacrilege. He was eager to help her in her time of dire distress. Good old Nick, I knew that he would not fail me! Already I saw the dread gates of the trap swing open, and felt the kick of the screw under me as the little yacht rapidly left the shores of this horrible land behind. My face was radiant. I rushed forward to thank him, full of gratitude and affection.
But, even as Nick closed the door after directing Teju Okio, a change came over him. He walked back into the room slowly, thoughtfully. There was coldness in his manner. The gates again swung shut, the yacht no longer held to her swift course. I stopped with my unexpressed thanks upon my lips.
"What is the matter?" I cried, my joy turned to fear. Nick had become a Bharbazonian.
"I must have time to think," he said coldly.
"Think?" I cried. "What is there to think about? Surely you have not changed your mind?"
"No, I have not changed my mind. I have not fully made it up. You took me off my feet a moment ago. I must consider this from all sides. I have a duty to perform to my country and to my church. Solonika has committed a great sacrilege for which she merits death."
"Nevertheless, Nick, you cannot stand still and see her die. You love her, do you not?"
"Yes," he said slowly, "and so do you."
I felt it coming and stood still, awaiting the blow.
"I saw her kiss you as she went up the stair," he said.
Jealousy, impure, merciless jealousy had claimed its own. Nick had guessed the import of Solonika's last act and knew that she loved me. So strange is the human heart that in the midst of the pure and the noble it can still harbour the most sordid of feelings. I had never dreamed this of Nicholas.
Should I lie to him and permit him to learn the truth after we were far out to sea? I must save her, no matter what the cost. But, try as I would to frame my reply at variance with the truth, I could not.
"She kissed me," I admitted. "Furthermore, Nick, she has told me that she loves me. There was no need for her to have thrown away the right to rule in Bharbazonia. Had she kept silent she might now be King. For weeks I pleaded with her to leave it all before she went too far, but she did not love me then. It came to her suddenly as she knelt at the feet of the Patriarch; she condemned her father to exile; she sentenced herself to death; she told the truth—because she loved me."
Nick glowered upon me and the old look which I dreaded returned. He fingered his long sword nervously and glanced repeatedly toward the stairs. I feared his old rage was coming back and that he meditated harm to Solonika.
"Not that, Nick," giving up all hope of his assistance. "If you have not forgotten the old days, if there yet remains some vestige of the affection you used to feel for me, let it have weight with you now. I love you, Nick. I do not want to raise my hand against you. But I will, if you threaten her life."
"Dale," he cried, "you do not mean this!"
"Your course is plain. If you will not help us, you have only to wait. Your countrymen will soon be here seeking vengeance. For God's sake, Nick, let them take it! Not you! Now that you have deserted us, we have no hope. There is no way out. She will die before sunrise. All I ask of you, Nick, and the friendship which seems dead, is that you permit another hand to wield the sword. Do not make it harder for me to bear."
Nick walked up and down the room in great agitation. But he did not again have recourse to his sword hilt. I held my position at the foot of the stairs until he should arrive at some decision.
"I will do as you ask," he said, stopping before me. "I will wait."
The die was cast. The trap had closed around us. A woman had come between Jonathan and David. It was the old story over again. But I was glad even for the little crumb of kindness which the hand of friendship had given me.
"Thank you, Lassie," I said, and we shook hands as near tears as two strong men permit themselves to get. The waiters brought our coffee and we sat at table together sipping the hot beverage and smoking our last cigars. I sent food to Solonika by a maid, but I do not know whether she tasted it.
"What are you going to do?" asked Nick, after an hour of silence.
"I shall die with her," I said dully. This suspense was worse than the tortures of hell. I prayed that they would soon come and end it.
"Nonsense," said Nick, "they will not hurt you; you have not harmed them as she has."
He was using the words of Solonika. She could not understand and neither could Nick. How little both knew me.
We did not again refer to the events of the evening. I do not think Nick spoke. He only watched me curiously. Toward midnight the landlord closed up his hotel and retired with his servants for the night. They little dreamed how soon and with what fright they would be awakened from their peaceful slumbers. The innkeeper placed candles on the table between us before ascending the stairs. With what assurance men go to their slumbers knowing that they will wake up in this world in the morning. I would not be here when he again opened his little hotel.
About one o'clock Nick and I raised our heads at the same moment and listened. We heard the beat of horses' feet on the hard stone highway, coming steadily nearer and nearer. As the sound increased in volume, it became evident that more than a thousand cavalrymen and others, detailed to search the main road, were upon us.
"They are here," said Nicholas.