Chapter XXII: Black Knave and White

There were three women and a man in the approaching party, and it chanced I knew them all. Courtney had a red rose fastened conspicuously on his breast, and Lady Helen wore a great bunch of them in her hair--another was gowned like her and, so, must be the Marquise de Vierle herself--the fourth was Mademoiselle d'Essoldé.

"If you wish," said I, barring the path and sweeping the ground with my feather, "I'll hunt another rose. I've been searching for you so long that the one I began with has gone to pieces."

"Of course, Your Highness would never think of looking in the Ball Room," said Lady Helen.

Mademoiselle d'Essoldé started and, then, drew a bit back.

"Never, indeed, until I had searched the Garden," I retorted. Then I bowed to Mademoiselle d'Essoldé as the Marquise presented her. I could see she was very much embarrassed, so I tried to reassure her by being extremely cordial.

The Marquise wanted to show Courtney the bridge and the lake, and, when we passed the place where Moore and I had met the Queens--as I had styled them--Mademoiselle d'Essoldé found her opportunity and whispered:

"Will Your Royal Highness ever forgive me?"

"On one condition," I said.

"It's granted--name it."

"That you be nice to him who sits beside you at supper, to-night."

She looked at me a moment--masks are very annoying when one wants to see the face.

"That will be an easy penance," she said--and I understood she had been told who that man was to be.

I bent toward her. "Let him know it, then," I said earnestly.

"Your Highness likes him?" she asked.

"I do more than like him," I said.

She threw a quick glance up at me.

"Maybe I do, too," she laughed.

"Good," said I; then began to speak of something else. There is just as proper a point to quit a subject as to start it.

The grass on the bank of the lake was quite dry and Lady Helen suggested that we sit down.

"This reminds me of a garden in Florence," she said. "Someone might tell us a story from Boccaccio."

The Marquise held up her hands in affected horror.

"Helen! Helen! You're positively shocking," she said.

"Lady Helen evidently believes in living up to our costumes," I ventured.

"Why not?" she laughed, "since the masks hide our faces?"

"Very good, my dear," said Lady Vierle, "you tell the first story; we will take our cue from you."

Lady Helen removed her mask. "Then, that is your first cue," she said.

"I breathe easier," Mademoiselle d'Essoldé remarked.

"We all do," said I--then, suddenly, replaced mine and arose.

"Indulge me for a moment," I said, and sauntered over to the path a little distance away; nor answered the chaffing that was flung after me. I had seen a woman in gypsy dress and a cavalier in white coming slowly down the walk. I did not doubt it was Mrs. Spencer and Lotzen, and I intended to let them know they were recognized.

As we neared each other, I halted and stared at them with the most obvious deliberation. The gypsy made some remark to her companion, to which he nodded. I had little notion they would address me; and, certainly, none that they would stop. But, there (though whether it was pure bravado or because my attitude was particularly irritating, I know not), Lotzen gave me another surprise.

He paused in front of me and looked me over from head to foot.

"Monsieur seems interested," he said, making no effort to disguise his tones.

I made no answer.

"And I hope monsieur will pardon me if I tell him his manners are atrocious," he went on.

Again, no answer.

"Though, of course, no one could ever expect monsieur to understand why," he continued.

Of a sudden, it dawned on my slow brain that Lotzen did not know whether it was Moore or I that confronted him, and he wanted to hear my voice. I saw no utility in obliging him; so, I stood impassive, staring calmly at them.

Lotzen turned to his companion.

"Speak to him, mademoiselle," he said; "perchance the dulcet tones of Beauty may move the Beast to speech."

I smiled at him addressing her as "mademoiselle."

She shook her head. "Methinks it's Balaam not Beauty you need."

He laughed. "Even that does not stir him--the fellow must be deaf."

"Try signs on him." she suggested.

"Good! I'll sign to him we want to see his face."

"How, pray?"

"By pulling off his mask," he answered--and put out his hand, as though to do it. With his fingers almost on it, he paused.

I stood quite still. I felt perfectly sure he would not touch me; but, if he did, I intended to knock him down. And I was not mistaken. After a moment, he dropped his arm.

The woman laughed. "Your nerve failed--his didn't," she said dryly.

"Not at all, mademoiselle. I thought of a better way.--Observe."

He slowly drew the long narrow-bladed sword, that went with his costume, and, taking the point in his left hand, bowed over it in mock courtesy.

"Will monsieur have the extreme kindness to remove his mask," he said.

I admit I was a bit astonished. Surely, this was rushing things with a vengeance--to deliberately raise a situation that meant either a fight or a complete back-down by one of us. And, as he would scarcely imagine I would do the latter, he must have intended to force a duel.

There might have been another reason, assuming that he was interested only in my identity:--this procedure would have told him; for Moore would not have dared draw sword on the Heir Presumptive. But I have never thought such was his idea; for he must have been very well satisfied, by this time, that none but an equal in rank would have acted so toward him.

And, being convinced that it was I that fronted him, he had suddenly seen an opportunity to accomplish in open fight what his hired assassin had bungled. It is notorious that American officers know practically nothing of the art of fence; what easier than to drive me into drawing on him and, then, after a bit of play, to run me neatly through the heart. What mattered it if he were the aggressor? It would be easy to aver he had not known me--that I had chosen to insult him, and, having refused to unmask and apologize, had suffered the consequences of my own rashness and bad manners.

And, even suppose no one believed his story that he did not know me. What mattered it? One does not execute the Heir Presumptive of Valeria for murder. True, the King might rage--and a term of banishment to his mountain estates might follow; yet, what trifling penalties for the end attained. They would be only for the moment, as it were. But the American would be dead--the Crown sure--the Princess still unmarried.

Truly, it was a chance which would never come again; and not to seize it was to mock Fortune to her very face.

It takes far longer to write this than to think it. It all went through my mind in the brief space Lotzen gave me for reply.

"I am waiting, monsieur," he said.

The Gypsy laughed softly.

"You tell him so much he already knows," said she.

Lotzen looked at her--in surprise, I doubt not.

"Mademoiselle is impatient," he remarked.

She shrugged her pretty shoulders.

Then he bowed again to me.

"You see, monsieur," he said, "you tire the Lady; I must ask you to make haste."

If anyone think it easy to stand, stolidly, in one position for a considerable period, and have impertinent things said to him the while, let him try it. He will be very apt to change his notion. But, I stuck to it; and my soldier training helped me--and the mask relieved my face.

"You are stubborn, monsieur, as well as bad mannered. I shall have to spur you, I see," he went on. "I ask you, once again, monsieur, to remove your mask. If you do not, I shall give you a bit of steel in the left leg."

"And, if that be ineffective?" the lady asked.

"Then, I shall touch him in the other leg--and, if he still refuses, then, in the right arm--and, then, if necessary, in the left arm; each time a trifle deeper."

"And, then----?" she inflected, very sweetly.

"Then?" he repeated. "I think there will be no need for a 'then,' mademoiselle," he laughed sneeringly.

She nodded toward me.

"Isn't it about time to begin?" she asked.

"Your wish, my dear, is my law," he said. "You hear, monsieur; your time is up--prepare."

He stepped forward and thrust, very slowly, at my thigh. Even then, I could not think that he would actually dare to touch me with his sword; and I made no motion. I proposed to call his bluff--if it were one.

Closer and closer, inch by inch, drew the point. It reached the velvet--hesitated--passed through--and just pierced my flesh--then, was withdrawn.

And, with that cut, came the blood-lust, like unto the rage of the berserker of old. Yet, somehow, I had the sense to stand quiet and let the red passion burn itself out. I would need all my coolness to meet Lotzen's skill.

"Now, will monsieur remove his mask?" he asked.

"You scarcely touched him," scoffed the Gypsy.

Lotzen held up the sword.

"See the red upon the point?" he asked.

"Blood! You actually cut him!" she exclaimed--then pointed her finger at me, derisively. "And you wear a sword!" she sneered.

It was pretty hard to take. But I had a notion, foolish, possibly, to play the game a little longer.

"Come along, my friend," she went on. "This is poor sport. I hate a coward."

For an instant, I feared he would heed her and go--and that would have obliged me to become the aggressor; which I much preferred not to be.

"A coward!" he laughed--and looked at me. "You hear that, monsieur: a coward." Then he put his hand on her arm. "You are quite right, my dear, it is poor sport," he said. "Yet, stay a moment longer. I shall forego the other cuts and tear off his mask, instead."

"And permit him to wear a sword?" she mocked. "Surely, not! Why don't you break it?"

"A charming suggestion--thank you.--You hear my Lady's wish, Monsieur le Coquin," he said to me, and presenting his blade at my breast. "Will you yield your sword or shall I be obliged to take it from you?"

At last, Lotzen had driven me to action, in pointing his sword at my breast. If he touched it my steel vest would be disclosed, at once; and that was not to my mind. It would explain the failure of his bravo's dagger. More than that I did not care for. Doubtless, he was wearing one himself at that very moment. One usually ascribes to his enemy methods similar to one's own--and, as Lotzen dealt in assassination, he would expect me to do the same.

I waited a moment. Then, stepping quickly out of reach, I drew my own sword.

"Here it is, my Lord," I said. "Which end will you take?"

"The only end that you can give me, monsieur--the hilt," was the answer.

"Come and get it, then," I drawled.

He turned to the Gypsy.

"Will mademoiselle pardon me," he said.

"Will you be long?" she asked.

"Only a moment. I'll make it very short."

"I'll wait," she said carelessly.

He bowed to her--and then faced me.

"Has Monsieur le Coquin any particular spot in which he prefers to receive my point?" he asked.

"None, my Lord," I answered; "I shall leave that to your own good taste."

"_Merci_, monsieur, _merci_!" he said, and saluted. "Yet, I may not be outdone in generosity. Therefore, in exchange for your hilt, monsieur, you shall have the whole length of my blade in your heart."

"That, my Lord, is on the Knees of the Gods," I said.

Then our swords fell to talking and our tongues were still.

The turf was free of brush or trees; and, as I have already said, the illumination was so arranged that, practically, there were no shadows. The Garden seemed almost as bright as day; indeed, save that the light was white, we might, just as well, have been duelling at noon-tide as at midnight.

It had not been hard to gather, from Lotzen's last remarks to his companion, what sort of a fight he proposed making; and, after the usual preliminary testing of strength, I contented myself with the simplest sort of defence and awaited the main attack.

It seems hardly possible that two men could engage in a combat with rapiers, at such an occasion, and not draw a crowd. There is something peculiarly penetrating about the ring of steel on steel at night. Yet, such was the extent of the grounds and, so retired was our locality, that no strangers were attracted. Almost at the first stroke, however, I heard exclamations from the direction of my companions. In a moment, Courtney came running up, his drawn sword in hand--and the others after him.

I had plenty of use for my eyes with the immediate business in hand; but, as I chanced to be facing them, I had a vision of Courtney--his mask off--leaning forward intently watching the fight. Then, he calmly returned sword and drew back.

I heard the Marquise exclaim: "_Mon Dieu_! Someone is trying to kill His Highness--we must save him!"

But Courtney clapped his hand over her mouth and silenced her. Even in the press of the duel, I think, I smiled.

"Your pardon, my dear Marquise," he said, loudly--so I would hear it, I knew--"His Highness needs no saving."

Then I heard no more--for the Duke assumed the offensive fiercely and his sword began to move like lightning. And well, indeed, was it, for me, that I had learned something of this gentle game of fence, else had that night been my last on Earth.

Then, of a sudden, from out a sharp rally, came the first strokes of Moore's _coup_. I had been expecting it. I steadied myself to meet it, giving back just a trifle to lead Lotzen to think it was new to me. He pressed me hotly and, at length, the final position came--the way was open.

"Take it!" he said, savagely--and sent the thrust that should have made good his promise to bury the whole blade in my heart.

But his point never reached me--for, as his sword glided along mine, seemingly unopposed, I caught it exactly as Moore had shown me and wrenched with all the strength of my wrist and arm.

There was a sharp grinding of steel; and then, like a thing alive, the Duke's sword left his hand, sped through the air and settled, thirty feet away, point downward in the turf, where it stuck, quivering and swaying like a reed in the wind.

With a cry of sharp surprise, Lotzen sprang back and watched his sword as it circled and fell. I moved a step toward him. Then, he turned to me.

"It seems, Monsieur le Coquin," he said softly, "that I was in error; and that it is the point of your sword and not the hilt I am to take. So be it."

He draw himself up to attention, and raised his hand in salute.

"I am waiting," he said calmly.

Ferdinand of Lotzen was, doubtless, a bad lot. Once that night he had given me to assassination; and, just now, he himself had deliberately tried to kill me. He deserved no consideration; and, by every law of justification, could I, then and there, have driven my sword into his throat. Maybe I wanted to do it, too. We all are something of the savage at times. And I think he fully expected to die. He had told me frankly he purposed killing me, and he would not look for mercy, himself. The dice had fallen against him. He had lost. And, like a true gambler, he was ready to pay stakes. To give the fellow his due, he was brave; with the sort of bravery that meets death--when it must--with a smiling face and a steady eye.

And, so, for a space, we stood. He, erect and ready. I, with hand on hip and point advanced.

I heard the gasps of women--a sob or two--and then, the rustle of skirts, followed instantly by Courtney's soft command.

"Stay, madame--the matter is for His Highness only to decide."

Lotzen laughed lightly.

"Strike, man," he said, "or the petticoats will steal me from you."

I stepped back and shot my sword into its sheath.

"Go," I ordered. "I do not want your life. Only, depart this house straightway, and take your bravoes with you. They will have no other opportunity to-night. And, mark you, sir, no further meeting with the Gypsy--now, nor hereafter."

He bowed low. "Monsieur is pleased to be generous," he sneered.

But I gave him my back and, removing my mask, went over to my friends.

The Marquise met me with a perfect gale of apologies. But I laughed them aside, telling her it was I who stood in need of pardon for becoming involved in such a breach of hospitality.

"Your Highness might have been killed," she insisted, woman-like.

"But I wasn't," said I, "so, pray, think no more about it."

Just then, Colonel Moore came up and, seeing us without our masks, he dropped his, also. I watched Mademoiselle d'Essoldé's greeting to him. It was all even he could have wished.

"I think it is about the supper hour," said Lady Vierle. "Let us go in."

I offered her my arm and, masking again, we led the way.

"Will Your Highness tell me something?" she asked immediately. "Did you know your antagonist?"

"I didn't see his face," I evaded.

She looked at me quickly. "Would it be better for me not to know?"

"Yes," said I, "I think it would."

There was, really, no reason why I should shield Lotzen; yet, neither was there any reason to rattle a family skeleton in public, and raise a scandal, which would run the Kingdom over and be the gossip of every Court in Europe.

Then I lifted my mask so she could see my face.

"And, my dear Lady Vierle," I said earnestly, "if you would do me a great favor, you will promise to forget all about this unfortunate incident."

She, too, raised her mask and looked me frankly in the eyes.

"I promise," she said.

And I am sure she will keep her word.

I knew I could leave it to Courtney and Moore to insure the silence of Lady Helen and Mademoiselle d'Essoldé.

We lingered at the table until far into the morning. And, if Moore had any fault to find with his neighbor in blue, he was, indeed, a graceless grumbler.

Lady Helen was on one side of me, and we recalled the ride we had together the morning shortly after the Birthday Ball, when we met the Princess at the Old Forge.

"We never took that other ride we planned," I said--"the one to the Inn of the Twisted Pines."

"You have never asked me," she said dryly.

"Suppose we make it to-morrow at three," I suggested.

"I ride with Mr. Courtney, then."

"We will make a party of it," said I. "The Princess returns this morning and we will add Mademoiselle d'Essoldé and Colonel Moore."

"But, the chaperon!"

"Hang the chaperon--the grooms can suffice for that. Besides, we shall be back before dark."

"It will be jolly," she said. Then she gave me a shrewd smile. "But, how different from the ride as we planned it."

I looked at Courtney.

"He wasn't in it; was he?" I smiled.

She leaned a bit nearer. "Nor would you have assumed, then, to make engagements for the Princess Royal of Valeria without consulting her," she replied.

I laughed. And I did not deny her inference.

When Moore saluted and turned to leave me that night, I stopped him.

"Colonel," said I, "I trust you enjoyed the supper."

"It was the most delightful I have ever--_heard_," he said.