Chapter VIII: Part 8

"Dale, oh, my faithful friend. There is something you can do. Go to the door of the Cathedral--the only door--and place the key upon the outside--and wait."

Although it was not clear what she intended doing, this was no time to argue. Without a word I flew to obey her orders. Because of her use of English not a word of her intention filtered through to the court. Only her father who was nearest understood her words, and gathered some inkling of the meaning. As I hurried down the aisle, unimpeded, I heard him cry in an agony of suspense:

"My daughter--my son--my only child--what would you do? Speak, speak to me I implore you. Tell me what is your purpose."

"It is the end," she replied without spirit. "The end! _The end_! We are trapped and undone. We cannot go on. We are lost--lost--lost! As God is my Judge, I will not live this horrible lie another moment. I did not foresee this mockery. Oh, God, my heart is breaking!"

"Aye," he replied, "but the sacrilege! Think of the sacrilege! You cannot go back. The only safe way is to go on! There must be a way out of this difficulty. There must be; trust me, your father; I will find it for you."

"Let them kill me if they wish. I know, now, what the life means which you have doomed me to. If there is a God and He is Love He will take care of me."

"But, think, child. They will kill you. They will torture me, your father, who has always loved you. Surely you do not purpose to tell! Oh, my God, do not do that! Do not do that!"

Both the King and the Patriarch, impatient of the delay, put an end to the pleadings of the Duke of Dhalmatia.

"Make answer to this charge. Confess that you are guilty," they exclaimed, and the nobles took up the cry.

Solonika bent over and lifted her sword from the stone floor. Drawing herself up to her full height, she made a sign that she would speak. Silence fell upon the assemblage and every eye was fixed upon her face as they waited for the words to come.

But Solonika did not utter a sound. With her upraised hand she stood listening. Listening for what?

From my position beside the door I had an unobstructed view of her. The Red Fox's retainers were all about me. They were absorbed in watching the proceedings, and did not notice me when I placed the huge brass key on the outside. Neither did they seem to hear the sharp report of the explosions as Teju Okio, acting under his master's orders, turned the sixty horsepower engines over with a loud whir. The sound rang through the Cathedral in strange contrast with the mediaeval scene. It was the voice of the twentieth century making itself heard where for unnumbered ages only the chants of the hooded priests had echoed. It sounded like sweet music to my ears. It seemed to be what Solonika had been waiting for.

"Gentlemen of Bharbazonia," she began, in the court language, "with such an array of formidable witnesses against me it were useless to deny that I am the man who affronted this woman. It would avail me nothing to say that she does not tell the truth; but that which I now tell you will avail, although it bring with it surer retribution."

"No, no!" cried the Red Fox, distraught with fear, "she--he, my child is not himself. His excitement has overtopped his mind. You must not heed his raving. He will marry the Princess. I swear it to you, nobles of Bharbazonia. All will yet be well. But do not let him speak that which is not true. Go on with the ceremony. I would yet see him king before I die--I, his poor father, who have suffered so much against the glories of this day."

"Cease your wild words and permit us to hear this boy's reply," thundered the Patriarch from his high altar. The Church spoke and all men trembled at the sound.

"I will be brief, O, Most High Patriarch," continued Solonika, without a glance in her father's direction. "Your ancient law declares that a _man_ must wed the maid he salutes with a kiss before witnesses. I have not broken that law. For I am _not a man, but a woman!_"

"It is not true!" cried Dhalmatia. "I, her father, ought to know!"

"It is true!" cried Solonika.

"Thou art a woman?" thundered the Patriarch above.

"A woman?" exclaimed King Gregory.

"I swear it," replied Solonika, but, even as she spoke, she turned and sped swiftly down the wide aisle toward the door, where I waited. Before the company had fully grasped the meaning of her words, the great voice of the Patriarch thundered and rose above the wild babel of sounds with the one clear word of dread significance:

"SACRILEGE!"

I saw the King with a scream of agony fall forward on his face, while the Red Fox, beaten and undone, dropped to his knees upon the railing in an attitude of prayer. Fortunately for Solonika the armed men, who might have stopped her, were behind the women. No one appeared in the aisle. The court ladies were overcome with terror. On, on, she came running swiftly and lightly toward the door which I prepared to shut behind her as she passed.

One of the white clergy stood beside me with a brass incense burner in his hand. He dropped the burner to the floor as the Patriarch's cry came to him, and prepared to stop the fleeing Prince. Just as Solonika was within his grasp I struck him a heavy blow and felled him in the aisle. She dashed by and I sprang through the great doorway with her. Both put our shoulders to the heavy oaken portal and swung it shut with a loud bang. I grasped the ponderous key in both hands and the rusty bolt found its iron socket. Even through the door I could hear the bellow of the high priest.

"Sacrilege! A woman hath defiled the altar."

We ran down the steps hand in hand and found Nick, all unconscious of the tragedy which had been enacted within, standing beside the tonneau door, waiting. The black cloth of the Church which hung from Solonika's shoulders served to disguise her in the growing dusk from the soldiers who were still drawn up in front of the Cathedral, ready to conduct the new-made King to the Palace. The engine was playing havoc with their equilibrium.

"Is the ceremony over?" asked Nick, entirely ignorant of the true situation.

"It is over now, thank God," Solonika replied, but her real meaning escaped him.

The noise in the Cathedral became pronounced. Added to the bull-like tones of the Patriarch were women's voices high and shrill, calling upon the empty air to "Stop her."

"What's the trouble in there?" asked Nick. The cavalrymen nearest the steps looked anxiously toward the building.

"The audience is preparing to come out, Nick," I said as quietly as I could. "Please get under way as rapidly as possible."

I helped the trembling girl into the machine and leaped in beside her. Nick took his place beside Teju Okio.

"Let her go," he commanded.

"Very dam fine," returned the boy, and we started like the wind.

We passed through the wide pathway held open by the wall of mounted men and were well up the hill before we heard a sound from the Cathedral. From our elevated position we had a dim view of the plaza in front of the church, and saw that the excitement had been communicated to the street. All became confusion among the soldiers and the waiting crowd. They ran about and looked to me like little black ants that have been disturbed in their hill by the careless foot of man. As long as we remained in sight no one emerged from the Cathedral to take command and order a pursuit. Evidently the door was holding well. But I did not take much comfort at our easy escape for I knew that before morning the entire army and every man, woman and child in Bharbazonia would be seeking Solonika.

"Where would you go, Sire?" said Nick. "Dhalmatia?"

"No! no!" she cried, and I felt her shudder. "Any place but there."

"His Majesty," said I, thinking it best to keep Nick in ignorance for a while at least, "is much over-wrought after the strain of the ceremony. It would be well to ride for a time. The night air will do him good."

"Let's make it the Turk's Head Inn, then," suggested Nick. "We may get something to eat there. I have not had anything since breakfast."

"Neither have I. Make it the Turk's Head," I replied.

Nick turned his attention to directing Teju Okio toward the King's Highway which led to the inn, and Solonika settled against my shoulder with a satisfied sigh. I stole one arm under her head to make her more comfortable. We rode silently on into the growing darkness. In an hour it would be as dark as that terrible morning when we rode through the forest of Zin.

"What are your plans, Solonika?" I whispered.

"Do not speak. Do not move," she said. "I am so happy."

Happy? This was no time to give way to happiness. I realized the supreme danger she was in and felt that we lost time by aimlessness of action. I, too, feeling her soft cheek against my arm, was strangely happy. But fear would not let me enjoy the pleasure her proximity gave me. Of course, being possessed of the only automobile in Bharbazonia, we were safe from pursuit for the moment. But there was Nicholas to be reckoned with. He must be told the truth. When he knew that the Prince was Solonika, how would he act? I remembered his curving fingers around an imaginary throat when he told me of the sacrilege. Would he still be of the same opinion when he knew Solonika had committed that great crime against his church? And then my heart stopped beating, and I sat up with a gasp.

The gates! there at the end of the highway stood Castle Comada with its battlements and its closed, barred doors! What good was our flight at all if we were to be stopped by the guard at the end of our run? The government had wires to all its outposts and by this time, perhaps, the two castles. Novgorod on the north and Comada on the south, would be on the look-out for the automobile.

"Solonika, you must tell me what you propose doing. You must realize the castles will know of our coming and will not let us through. How are we to get out of this cursed country?"

"It is so plebeian to be happy," she murmured, like one in a dream. "I never knew, I never dreamed it would be like this. It is so good."

I began to fear for her reason. This obliviousness to fear, when she knew that death inevitable was hanging over her head, like the sword of Damocles, was not entirely natural. But I did not disturb her again until we drew up in front of the tavern about nine o'clock. We had met no one on the road who disputed our progress.

Nick ordered the meal and I followed Solonika to a comfortable chair by the fire. She clung to my hand with all the appearance of a frightened child and would not let me go. I stayed to comfort her while Nick and Teju Okio examined the car which had brought us safely thus far on our journey.

The French landlord was overjoyed. Business he said was very bad. Everybody was at the coronation. There was not a single soul about the inn but his wife and the servants. I arranged for a room at the head of the stairs for Solonika, and urged her to lie down a while before supper. She consented, and I led her to the foot of the stairs. We were alone for the moment. On the first step she stopped and held out her arms to me.

"Oh, Dale Wharton," she whispered, "it is so beautiful. I wonder that I never knew it before. It came so suddenly, when you looked at me in the Cathedral. There seemed to be a stone wall ahead. I could not go forward and I could not go back. Then, somehow, you came to me and I realized what a lonely life I should lead thereafter. Without you I did not want to live. You made me tell. And now I am free to die."

"Hush, sweetheart, you must not talk of dying. I will save you if I can. There must be a way."

"No hope. No hope. Though I turn to the east, west, north, south, there is no hope. The Greek church--my church--is hedging me about. I have given up. I will fight no more. For my sacrilege I must die. In the sight of God I am accursed. I must die. I must."

"No, my own, you must not die."

"But, before they come, Dale, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to kiss me once upon the lips, and I shall be content."

I tried to rouse her; to make her see that we could escape if she would only help me, and that, when we were free, there was a life for us together in America where, undisturbed by kings or creeds, we might be happy. She listened patiently, but without interest. Much against my will I was forced to realize that she felt the enormity of her offence and that she had condemned herself to death.

"Will you not kiss me, Dale?" she pleaded.

"Listen, dearest," I said, hoping to force her to help me through the love she bore me, "you must not give up in despair. For, if you die, I must die also. You will not condemn me to death, will you?"

"Oh, no," she replied, "they will not hurt you. You have not harmed them, as I have."

She put her arms around my neck and kissed me long and passionately. Our lips met in their first kiss and possibly their last. Then she walked weakly up the steps, entered her room and closed the door.

I stood at the foot of the stairs and watched her until she was gone from sight. Then I turned and came face to face with Nicholas. From his expression I knew that he had seen the Prince's caress. So bitterly did he look at me that I scarcely recognized my old friend in him. And I needed his friendship now so much. Plainly he suspected the truth.

"Well, Dale," he said coldly, "perhaps you will be good enough to explain."

*CHAPTER XX*

*THE FAILURE OF FRIENDSHIP*

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 denouement 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.

"_Diner est prepare_," 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."

"_Tres 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 Caesar 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.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*THE FIGHT ON THE STAIRS*

Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend;
The world's an Inn and death the journey's end.
--_Dryden: Palamon and Arcite_.

The agony I suffered during the long hours of waiting left me without feeling. If I experienced any sensation as I heard the approaching sounds of pursuit, it was not of excitement, but rather of elation. The terrible hours of waiting were at an end; here at last was the opportunity for action. To sit and think on approaching death is more difficult than to fight it.

Nick's decision to wait for the priests and soldiers; his refusal to help, when the automobile was ready at our call and the road deserted, had rendered me callous to the future. I remained seated at the table until the frantic yells of the approaching mob told me they had sighted the inn and expected to get news of the hated woman.

"Good-bye, Nicholas," I said, extending my hand.

He took it hesitatingly, but did not speak. Wonder and doubt as to what I intended to do were written on his face. He could not bring himself to believe that I really meant to defend Solonika against such overwhelming odds.

"Do not be foolish," he said when I turned at the foot of the stairs and put my hand in my pocket to feel the revolver there. There was no reply on my lips. Nick continued to watch me with the same curious expression. Men may have looked with pity upon the French nobles as they mounted the guillotine to surrender their heads upon the block without a murmur.

The soldiers drew rein before the inn. The car standing at the door told them they had run their quarry to earth. They shouted aloud as if they knew the victory was theirs. I heard the officers give their orders; the tavern was speedily surrounded. Then came an awful knock upon the door and a loud voice in bull-like tones demanding entrance. With a last look at me, Nick arose from his chair and opened the door, permitting the soldiers to pour into the room.

As I expected, the first man to enter was the outraged Patriarch. He was still uttering at intervals his Bharbazonian cry of "Sacrilege." His black robe was torn by hard riding and covered with dust. He was like a madman--his eyes glaring, his fingers clutching--as he sprang into the light. Pressing close behind were most of the black clergy who officiated within the chancel. They were loud in their cries and horrible in their expression of mediaeval hatred. Within their souls was one thought and that was kill--kill--kill! How much like those who erected the cross on Calvary, nineteen hundred years ago, were these deluded men. How little had they learned of the spirit of their Master, the Prince of Peace.

It was small wonder, under the influence of such teaching, that the soldiers, who pressed into the inn, were wrought up into a similar religious frenzy. There was no pity even in the face of the colonel in charge. The innkeeper and his serving men and women, aroused by the fearful din, appeared upon the landing above in night robes. They lent their excited voices to the uproar. As soon as the Patriarch saw the landlord he called to him in French:

"Where is she--this woman?"

"What woman, your Reverence?" cried the bewildered Marchaud.

"She who fled hither in that devil car?"

"No woman came with that party. They were only three men."

"Who were they?"

"Oh, Your Holiness have mercy upon me! What is it you intend to do? You will ruin the fair reputation of my house. No one is here but these two gentlemen you see before you and the King, the new King."

"Bah!" cried the Patriarch and his priests. "Where is she hiding?"

"_Mon dieu_! _She_? The King is in yonder room."

He pointed to the door at the head of the stairs and they made a rush toward me, but halted when I drew my revolver and held it in their faces.

"Do not do that!" cried Nick, when my intention of holding the steps even against such odds became clear. After opening the door to the pursuers he had not taken part in the search of the ground floor and had refused to answer all questions. By my act he knew that I was dooming myself to Solonika's fate.

The Patriarch and his followers drew back at the first show of resistance. They were afraid to mount the steps while I faced them. I might have held them at bay much longer, had not Solonika appeared beside her doorway. The first intimation I had that she was there came from the crowd. The Patriarch and his priests went mad with rage and pressed me hard. They seemed to have lost their fear of me and every one shouted at once, pointing behind me. Before their frenzied rush I was compelled to fall back a little to avoid being struck by swords from the side toward the bannisters. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her. She had discarded the black robe of the Patriarch and was pale and white in her coronation costume.

"Go back! go back!" I called, but instead she came down the steps until she touched my shoulder. "Give over, my friend. They will only kill you. You cannot save me," she said.

"Go back, Solonika. You are making them mad. I cannot hold them."

"Please let them come and end it, then."

One priest, braver than the rest, crept up the stair with his eyes gloating over Solonika, his religious fanaticism having overpowered his judgment. Something of the spirit of the Mohammedan urged him to the attack with no weapon but his empty hands. He sprang toward the woman he hated; he almost clutched her. But I was watching. I brought the butt of my revolver down upon his tonsured head and, as he crumpled up under the heavy blow, I kicked him with all my force so that he fell back into the arms of his brethren, unconscious.

In the sight of all Bharbazonia I had raised my hand against the Church. There was no mistaking my intention now. I had announced my position and chosen my fate. Solonika realized it.

"They will kill you, Dale," she said.

"They will have to before they reach you," I replied.

The old fire came back to her. She lost her listlessness.

"We shall die together," she said, and I think the thought made her happier. "It is better so. Perhaps God will forgive me and permit us to meet in the other world."

She drew her sword, which I knew she could use with all the vigour of a well-trained swordsman, and faced her enemies, ready for the impending battle. If, by my action, I had convinced Solonika of my intention to die with her, I also made it clear to Nicholas. Perhaps it was the sight of two against such unequal odds that moved him--the heart of man demands fair play--perhaps it was his love for a fight; give him what motives you will, my reader, I know that it was his friendship for me and his desire to save me that was his moving passion. The fact remains that he acted almost before the priest's body fell.

Belabouring the Patriarch's followers at the foot of the stairs with the flat of his broadsword, he forced a passage for himself and stood in the clearing in front of me. I appreciated the generous spirit his foolish act showed. He had kept the faith and preserved my idols unbroken. Here was a friendship which even the love of woman could not kill. But, oh, but how useless was his sacrifice! One hour ago, had he listened to my plea, his service had not been in vain. One hour ago he might have led us through the gates. But, now, we were surrounded. The automobile was in the enemy's hands. The pleading voice of friendship had made itself heard--too late!

Nick's scarlet uniform of a Grand Duke had its effect upon the soldiers. They fell silent when he lifted his hand. But the priests, working themselves momentarily into a greater frenzy, continued their cries of "Kill! kill, the woman!" What was the power of a Grand Duke to them who were more powerful than the nobles?

Nicholas raised his voice above their howling; he spoke in the mother tongue and seemed to be exhorting the soldiers not to kill me or the woman, but to take us alive. The Patriarch frequently interrupted, urging the fighting men to finish the work he had brought them to do. Between the two the ignorant cavalrymen stood irresolute until the frantic High Priest threw himself upon Nicholas and, assisted by his men, bore him down the steps and surrounded him. The hesitating soldiers, seeing the Grand Duke attacked by the priests, obeyed the Patriarch and sprang up the stairs swords in hand. The crisis was upon us.

As they crowded up the incline I took careful aim and pressed the trigger of my automatic gun. Like the sputter of an alarm clock eleven reports followed in rapid succession. The steel-jacketed projectiles went forward upon their deadly mission. Every bullet found its mark and, boring through the first rank, wounded many in the rear.

In these days of smokeless powder there was nothing to obscure my view and I saw the front rank fall down upon its face and the less severely wounded struggle backward to escape another volley. The havoc I had wrought was terrible. The soldiers broke in a panic, leaving their dead and dying where they had fallen.

For a moment the attack was over, but I had shot my bolt. I had no more ammunition. My revolver was empty! There was not even a bullet left for Solonika and myself!

*CHAPTER XXII*

*THE KING IS DEAD--LONG LIVE THE KING!*

This, and in this, my soul I give,
Lodged where I know 'twill ever live.
For never could myself or mine,
Fall into kinder hands than thine.
--_Bohn: Mss_.

Solonika stood with her hand upon my shoulder, looking down at the retreating men with fascinated eyes. I threw the useless weapon to the floor and turned to her.

"I have done the best I could," I said, "but I am powerless now."

"Empty?" she said.

Quickly she sped down the steps to where the body of the nearest man lay. She took the long sword from his nerveless grasp and came back.

"Can you use it?" she cried as she thrust it into my hands.

"A little," I said. Broadsword work was one of Nick's favourite pastimes at college, and I had become interested in it on his account.

"Look!" cried Solonika, pointing toward the foot of the stairs. Were they about to renew the attack so soon? I looked in the direction indicated and saw Nicholas backing slowly toward us step by step. At my first fire the frightened priests had run to cover, leaving Nicholas free. His sword was in his hand and he was watchful. My heart beat with renewed hope. With three defenders we might hold the stairs for an indefinite period.

But Nick was not to arrive at our side without a struggle. To the soldiers, now recovered from their first shock, his method of joining us looked like a retreat. They recognized that he was going over to the other side, and sought to attack him while he was yet alone. Before he had gone two steps upward, feeling for a foothold among the bodies under his feet, they were upon him. Nick's flashing sword flew from stair-rail to wall with blinding rapidity, holding them at bay. He continued backing. Although their weapons clashed against his, I thought their strokes lacking the force which, had their attack not been directed against a Grand Duke's uniform, they might have had.

I stood ready to help him if I thought he needed it. My chief concern was that they might attack him from the side over the railing. But the men gathered there seemed to be too much interested in the battle to take any part. He won to my side unhurt. But with him came the enemy, and I could not tell him how much I appreciated his foolishly generous act.

The stair was about twelve feet wide; consequently there was room for the three of us to stand abreast and wield our swords without interference. Nick fought on the outside against the railing; Solonika was in the middle and I near the wall. The soldiers crowded up the stairs five at a time. They hampered each other and were interfered with by their eager comrades pushing up behind. Nick and I readily took care of two of these, leaving the middle one to Solonika. But she did not require any assistance from me, easily handling her own man and one of mine.

I could see that she was taking care of me and exposing herself to great risk in the hope of saving my life as long as possible. Although she fought with spirit I knew it was without hope. After I had made the last great sacrifice she would hold to her original intention of delivering herself into the Patriarch's hands.

The first rush of battle over, our work became almost routine. As often as we drove the front rank back upon its fellows, a new set of swords took its place. It soon became apparent to the colonel in command that he could not take us without resort to strategy. In spite of the entreaties of the priests he gave the order to cease the attack. When our enemies withdrew all three of us showed the effects of the desperate battle. Solonika had been wounded in several places. There were blood stains upon her trousers and stockings. From a cut on her right shoulder the blood had run down her arm and dyed the grip of her sword hilt. She was pale and weak from her long fast and loss of blood, and sank upon the steps with her weapon watchfully ready. Thanks to her excellent care I was not much hurt. But I was tired from my exertion, and glad of the opportunity to rest. I sank down beside her.

If Nick had been struck, it did not show on his scarlet coat. Panting heavily, he leaned upon his father's sword and watched the soldiers clear the stairs of the wounded, preparing the way, perhaps, for another attack.