BREAKFAST that morning was, indeed, a serious business. Everybody was ravenously hungry. They knew that it would be some hours before they could partake of the next meal. Even the Princess and HelÈne did justice to the food which their host had provided with true rustic generosity. Papiu and Mihai, whom Morton had paid according to his promise, were talking over their riches with their relatives. They had also been presented with the rifles and equipment used on the journey. They were discussing Morton in awed tones, as if he were some being of a superior world. And Toni, himself, had occasion to agree with them, for both he and his family had likewise been very liberally dealt with.

The party that gathered around the carriage in which the two gently-bred ladies were seated, waiting for the signal to start was, therefore, a happy if a noisily hilarious one. Chatterings as of magpies and greetings in Roumelian and German came from all sides. Rossika especially was everywhere in evidence; for had not the Gospodinas worn her clothes? She ran about smiling and nodding and advising with heightened color and heavy tread, as if the very lives of the ladies depended on her final ministrations. At last Papiu, his face all wreathed in smiles, ascended the driver’s seat, and amid loud exclamations of thanks and adieus he cracked his whip and the carriage rolled away, followed by Morton and Donald in a low dray.

The drive to the railway station was a pleasant one, though a longer route was taken at Morton’s orders, to avoid a possible meeting with soldiers from the border. During the slow drive, it occurred to both the Princess and HelÈne that their old friend the canvas-covered wagon had disappeared. They wondered what had become of it. HelÈne questioned Papiu.

The wagon? Oh, yes—the wagon had been destroyed. Gospodar Morton—what a leader of great wisdom he was!—Gospodar Morton had sent Mihai away in it to deceive the soldiers who had been following them. He was to send the wagon over a ravine after he had set the horses free to roam in the woods.

Had they really been followed by soldiers? Oh, yes! Papiu, by this time, had quite forgotten that he had been ordered to say nothing to the ladies about the matter. Yes, Mihai had seen them—“duke drag” (devil take them). One of the six fellows had escaped their rifles, for he had evidently brought assistance, and the whole crew had been after them. But the wagon’s tracks to the ravine had done the trick. Ha! ha! ha! That Gospodar Morton was some leader!

HelÈne and the Princess said not a word. This then was the explanation for Morton’s strange behavior at the time. Then there had been fighting and killing! What an escape!

When they alighted at the railway station both the girls were very quiet; but Morton was too busily occupied to notice the change. He monopolized the little telegraph office for so long a time that the operator in charge of the place thought the foreigner must be some government official or one of those newspaper correspondents who were everywhere. By the time the train for Hermanstadt drew in Morton had sent off all his messages. Within the hour they were in Hermanstadt, the first real town they had seen since leaving Padina, a city of early Saxon character and enterprise.As the train for Vienna was not due for two hours, Morton drove the girls in a droshky and left them in the rehabilitating hands of the head of the best outfitting establishment the town possessed. He then took the occasion to see to his own person, and make some purchases which he knew would be welcomed by the ladies on the long journey before them. When he met them again at the station they hardly knew each other. What a difference clothes make!

Morton had been careful to secure a private compartment for the ladies so that they might obtain the rest of which they were in real need; and when he had seen them comfortably placed in their seats, he joined Donald in an adjoining compartment of the same car.

The long ride was uneventful, except for the usual bustle at the stopping places and the interest which this aroused. It was at one of these that the Princess procured a newspaper. She was eager to learn of what had happened since she had left Padina, and anxiously scanned the columns for news of her country. Suddenly, she uttered a loud exclamation of distress, and HelÈne, startled, saw her lean back and point to the sheet lying spread in her lap.

“Read this, HelÈne,” she cried, pointing to the headline: “News from Roumelia.” HelÈne took the paper and read:

“From Sophia, under date October —, we received the following communication, which evidently escaped the strict censorship. The Divane met on Saturday, October —, and was attended by a majority of the members. The meeting, presided over by Demeter Sturdza, was one of intense excitement throughout. M. Flava, after making an impassioned address, moved a resolution demanding the expulsion of all the remaining officials of the old rÉgime, unless they took the oath of the new constitution. It asked that the members of the royal family be placed under arrest and tried under the laws as administered by the Triumvirate. The resolution also called for plenary authority for himself and his two colleagues, MM. Balescu and Calorasi. It was carried by virtually the unanimous vote of the assembly, and President Sturdza was compelled to sign the warrants presented. Great excitement still prevails in the capital.

“Reports from Padina, so far unconfirmed, state that the Princess Marie-Louise has disappeared with the Comtesse Rondell, her lady-in-waiting. It is said that the disappearance of the two ladies was connected with the arrival of a party of some forty foreigners, who came to Padina ostensibly on a prospecting visit to oil-lands and for the purchase of horses. These people bought a number of blood animals and disbursed fabulous sums of money in other directions. The strangers had left Padina on the very Sunday on which the absence of the Princess was discovered. The borders are being closely guarded, and no one is permitted to leave the country without a passport from the Committee of Safety.

“A reward has been offered for the capture of the Princess, dead or alive. Colonel A——, commanding at Padina, has been arrested, and the Mayor and Chief of Police of the town have been suspended. They are suspected of being implicated in the plot for the abduction of the ladies.

“The Bulgarian government has ordered the mobilization of the Third and Fifth Divisions of the army. The Roumelian garrison along all the borders has been strengthened. All officers suspected of royalist tendencies have been imprisoned. The country is again under martial law.”

HelÈne turned deathly pale as she came to the last words. She looked at the Princess and found her leaning against the window her head bowed on her arms.

“Oh, my darling,” she cried sobbingly, embracing her friend, “what would have become of you had you remained in Padina? What has become of all our friends?”

“God alone knows,” murmured the Princess. “We should have shared their fates if Mr. Morton had not come to us when he did. I cannot forgive myself.”

They comforted each other and found relief in tears. But they were free—free—free—and their hearts filled with gratitude for the kind fate that had sent Morton to them.

“We owe that to your father, the Count,” said the Princess; “he had the foresight to know and the courage to act. Without him and Mr. Morton we should certainly have perished.”

They were glad they were alone, and when the attendant came to tell them that their sleeping berths were ready, they lay down with thankful prayers in their hearts and on their lips. God had been good to them—the poor, helpless, defenseless girls!

The early forenoon of the succeeding day saw the train glide slowly into the brightly lit and imposing terminal at Vienna. It had scarcely come to a stop when Morton appeared at the door of the compartment with a tall and distinguished gentleman, who was introduced as Mr. Tyler, the American Minister to Germany. He told the ladies that Mr. Tyler would see them to their hotel and look after them. He himself had much to do and with very little time in which to do it. He was leaving for England that very afternoon. He promised to call on them later at the hotel.

With a courtesy that is now, alas, rarer than it once was, Mr. Tyler placed himself at the entire disposal of the Princess and HelÈne. They soon realized that there were gentlemen in America as well as in Europe. He drove with them to the “Bristol,” where they were already expected. Morton had telegraphed for rooms from Hermanstadt. Here maids were assigned to them, and their every requirement attended to, while Mr. Tyler waited for them in the foyer. He had been requested by Morton to take them around the shops and see that they were amply supplied with everything they might need, so that when they came down to him he was ready for them. He acquitted himself admirably, and the girls enjoyed their shopping to the full, as only girls can. On their return to the hotel, they found a telegram from Brindisi, which had been opened and sent on by Morton, instructing them to carry out the original program laid out for them, and to travel by quickest route to Weimar, where they were expected, and where they would be well taken care of. HelÈne breathed a sigh of great relief. The telegram must be from her father. Then he was alive, and, therefore, well. God be thanked!

When Morton called to make his adieux, he was an altogether changed man. The Princess, who saw him first, scarcely recognized in the elegantly dressed and formally polite gentleman before her, the rough leader of the men of Padina. Her first impulse was to return his formality with a like show of dignity; but her heart was too full. Approaching him with outstretched hand, she said in a voice drowned with emotion:

“I cannot thank you, Mr. Morton, for all that you have done. I may never forget it. But you will, I know, understand my feelings. I am deeply, heartfully grateful.”

Morton smiled and bowed: “Your Highness, you over-estimate my poor services. I have been honored in your trust. I shall carry with me to my own country the beautiful memory of a noble lady.”She extended her hand to him, and as he bowed over it and kissed it softly, she said:

“I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you at Weimar, Mr. Morton. I shall be proud to make you known to my people.”

Morton thanked her and bowed himself out. He was glad that parting was over when he was again in the little salon. It was the other parting which he now awaited that filled him with emotion and fear. He walked to and fro with quick, nervous steps, thinking of what he should say when he saw her. He wished it were over so that he might get away—the sooner he went the sooner he could come back. As he had begun, so he would finish. He had engaged himself in a dangerous enterprise for HelÈne’s sake, moved to it by a mere face in a picture; but now that he had seen and come to know her very self, his whole being clamored for her love. Nothing should come between her and him, once he was assured of his father’s health. If only he could wait until he had fulfilled his duties to his dear ones at home! Ah, then, he would come back on wings and claim her, if—if—she would have it so. God grant that he had found favor in her eyes!

He was interrupted in his impassioned thinking by the opening of the door. It was the maid who had come to tell him that the Comtesse Rondell would be pleased to see him. With considerable trepidation and many misgivings he entered the apartment. The scent of flowers were wafted sweetly to his nostrils—he recognized it as the scent of the flowers he had sent her a little while ago, and his heart beat again. He saw them in a tall vase on a table near the window, and the sight of them deepened the turmoil within him. It was as if he had met his self-confessed self.

The soft frou-frou of silken skirts on carpet rustled and HelÈne stood before him in all the glory of her heightened beauty. She was dressed very simply in silver gray, but the rose color in her cheeks gave the contrast and drew his charmed gaze to the shining eyes that looked at him as if they were the windows of her noble spirit.

Morton stood gazing at the vision, spellbound. He drank in the sweetness and the light of it as if these were the one food he craved. With a bewitching smile she moved towards him conveying a pretty greeting with the gesture of her outstretched hand. “Thank you, Mr. Morton, for the lovely flowers. You are too kind. But how changed you are! Yesterday, you were the knight of old in armor, now you look like a gallant of the Ringstrasse.”

The girl was excited and felt an unaccountable shyness before him. She was trying to hide her embarrassment with an attempt at badinage. Morton sensed her feelings and tried to help her by smiling, but he could find no words. Instinctively she saw what was the matter with him, and with womanly quickness she changed the subject.

“Have you heard from papa?”

The important question brought Morton to himself again. He seized it gratefully. “Only the message I transmitted to you advising your early departure for Weimar—nothing more. I have arranged that Mr. Tyler accompany you to Weimar.”

“Ah, yes—I forgot; you are leaving us.” The rose in her cheeks had faded slowly and left the color of the lily behind, imparting a new beauty to the sweetness of the childlike face. Her long dark lashes had drooped and were quivering on the satin of her skin. He dared not look longer or he would forget himself. And time was pressing. He must be gone; but he must say just one word more before he left her.

“Comtesse, I am come to remind you of your promise given me at our last conversation together. You will not forget, will you, to call on me if you need help? I want to remain your friend, if you will permit me. This is my card; it will tell you where you can reach me at any time. Send me word and I will come. And here also is a package from your father. It contains such funds as you will need until Count Rondell joins you at Weimar.”

HelÈne took the card and package and laid them listlessly on the table on which stood the vase of flowers. An unknown fear had suddenly taken possession of her; she experienced a dread of dangers yet to come, and knew not how to account for it. Her father—what of him? Would she ever see him again? And this gentleman—would she ever meet him again? Morton’s voice came to her as if from a long way off.

“Dear lady, I have nothing more to say, except that I must tell you that my meeting you has been a great pleasure to me. I am leaving to return to my own people whom I have not seen in two years, and who are anxiously waiting for me. But I leave with the determination fixed to come back. May I hope—that you will be glad to see me when——”

He hesitated, not daring to say more. HelÈne had kept her eyes lowered, and at the pause she raised them to his face. What she saw there caused her to step back involuntarily and to speak quickly in low but impressive tones:

“Mr. Morton, I shall pray that you find your dear ones at home all well. When next you come to Europe you will find no heartier welcome than we shall extend to you at Weimar—papa, the Princess and myself.” Then looking him bravely full in the face, she added: “And I promise you that if ever I am in need of a friend, I shall turn to you.”

Morton drew nearer to her, breathing in the faint odor of roses which exhaled from her. He took the hand she had unconsciously stretched towards him, and bending over it touched it softly with his cold lips.

“Thank you. Good-bye, dear lady, till we meet again.”

“Au revoir, Mr. Morton.”

She allowed her hand to remain in his, and with the other drew a little rosebud from among its sisters on her breast and offered it to him.

“This,” she said, smiling saucily, “is for our Bayard—le preux chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.”

Morton took the flower reverently—“I shall keep it in memory of the honor you have conferred on me,” he said. “Au revoir, Comtesse—May God bless you and guard you.”

He bowed once more and kissed her hand again. Then letting it gently slip from his hold he turned to the door.

“Auf wiedersehen, Mr. Morton—and my deepest gratitude goes with you.”

He hesitated for a moment, and then quickly walked out of the room.

As he descended the stairs sweet strains of music reached him from the band playing in the dining-room. They came to him as a fitting accompaniment to her parting words, lingering in his memory. When Mr. Tyler met his friend in the foyer he saw a face transfigured in a new light and wearing a smile of ineffable happiness.

Tyler was a man of the world and drew his own conclusions. Ah—the old, old story! Well, he thought, good luck to you, my boy; but aloud he remarked to Morton that they had but very little time in which to catch the Ostend Express.

End of Book One

BOOK II