Complete weird tales of.., p.968
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 968
“What’s the idea?” she asked at last.
“I’m going to lay all my cards down for you, Princess, — faces up. I am an American serving in the Italian army.”
“The-hell-you-say!” There was a silence that lasted a full minute. Then, suddenly, the Princess began to laugh. Soft, fat chuckles agitated her tremendous bosom; a seismic disturbance seemed to shake her ample bulk beneath the bed-clothes.
“Tabs!” she exclaimed. “You’re keepin’ tabs on these here down-and-outers! That’s what you’re a doin’ of! Am I right?”
“And what are you doing here in Switzerland, Princess?” he inquired smilingly.
“Say! I’m their goat! Now, do you get me?”
“Not exactly — —”
“Well listen. Puppsky’s my brother. He was in the suit and cloak business in Noo York before the Rooshian revolution. Then he beat it for Petrograd — workin’ for his own pocket same’s you and me, Doc; and seein’ pickin’s — Trotzky bein’ a friend of ours, and Lenine a relation. I was in Stockholm fixin’ to go to Noo York, when that poor fish, Wildkatz, comes in and talks me into this game. And look at me now, Doc! Here I am financin’ this here bunch o’ homeless kings, sittin’ into a con game, holdin’ all the dirty cards they deal me — busted flushes, nigger straights, and all like that! And what,” she demanded passionately, “is there in it for me? Tino, he says I’ll be a Greek duchess an’ rule a island called Naxos! — And, Gawd help me, I fell fur it. And wherethehell is Naxos? And is it as big as Coney Island? Wasn’t I the big dill-pickle to stake ’em to a Greek revolution? And me a princess! Sure, I know a Rooshian princess ain’t much of a swell, and the Duchy of Naxos looked good to me.
“But the more I mix in with these here kings the wiser I get. Four-flushers is four-flushers wherever you find ’em. And these guys is all alike — old Admiral bushy-whiskers, Bummelzug, General Droly and that sore-eyed little Gizzler! — all want to sell me gold bricks for real money!”
She waved her short, fat arms in furious recollection of her wrongs.
“Say, even the Greek Queen ain’t too particular about chousing the long-green outer me! She wants to hand me the order of the Red Chicken! — costs ten thousand plunks! What do you know about that, Doc?”
I don’t know whether Smith was as amazed as was I by these revelations in argot. He smiled his kindly, undisturbed smile and patted her hand encouragingly; while from depths long plugged burst the excited recital of the woes of the Pudelstoffs.
“I’m through,” she said. “I got enough. And I told ’em so at the meeting after dinner to-night. They talked rough to me, they did. Puppsky, he got riled and tells me I’m no sister of his. And the Greek Queen she was crazy and called me a kike in German. Which upset my dinner.
“Say, Doc, the Gophers and Gas-house gangs ain’t one-two-three with this bunch. I’m scared stiff they’ll get me — that Ferdie has croaked more guys ‘n people know. I’m scared Sophy sticks me. They say she stuck a hat-pin into Tino. You bet she knows how to make that big stiff behave! And she’s got a way of lookin’ at you! — Me, I quit ’em cold to-night. ‘Nothing like that,’ says I; ‘no revolution in Greece at $250,000 a revolute! No Naxos! No Red Chicken! Me, I’m on my way via Berne, Berlin, Christiania, and Noo York!’”
“You’ve quarreled with them, Princess?” asked Smith.
“I sure did. Say, I don’t have to stand for no rough stuff from Wildkatz neither. We ain’t in Petrograd. But, mind you, I don’t put it past him to try his dirty tricks on me with bombs!”
“But why — —”
“They’re like all gun-men! Once in you can’t get out, or they’ll try to get you. If you’ve got enough and try to quit peaceable they think you’ve been bought out. You’re a squealer to them.”
“You believe they might offer you violence?” I asked, incredulously.
“How do I know? What was they doin’ with that bomb? They’re sore on me. They know they’re gettin’ no more dough outen me. They know I’ve quit and I’m goin’ back to God’s country.”
“But Leo Puppsky is your own brother!” I exclaimed, horrified.
The Princess shrugged her fat shoulders.
“He’s a Red, too. Bolsheviks is Bolsheviks. You don’t know ’em. You don’t know what they done in Rooshia. No boche is bloodier. Call ’em what you like — call ’em all sons of boches — and you won’t be wrong.”
Her flabby features had grown somber; suddenly a shudder possessed her, and she opened her mouth to scream; but Smith instantly filled the gaping orifice with medicine, and only a coughing fit followed.
To me he said: “Please leave me alone with her now. It will be all right, Michael.”
And he turned tenderly to the convulsed Princess and patted her vast back.
XIX. CONFIDENCES
AS I WALKED through the corridor considerably concerned over the statements made to us by this east-side Princess and seriously disturbed by finding myself in the very vortex of this whirlpool of intrigue which every moment seemed to spew up from its dizzying depths new plots and counter-plots, I almost ran into the ex-Queen of Greece.
She was in curl-papers and negligee, standing just outside her door, an electric torch in one hand, a pistol in the other.
“Madame!” I exclaimed, “what in the world is the matter?”
“I don’t like this inn,” she said. “I consider it a suspicious place.”
“Madame!”
“What do I know about your inn?” she demanded insolently, “or about you, either?”
“Madame!”
“You say you are a Chilean. You don’t look it. Neither does your friend resemble a Norwegian. If you desire to know my opinion you both look like Yankees!”
“Madame, this is intolerable — —”
“Possibly,” she interrupted, staring at me out of chilly eyes that fairly glittered. “Possibly, too, I am mistaken. Perhaps your servants, also, unduly arouse suspicion — your pretty housekeeper may really be your housekeeper. The waitress, too, may be a real waitress. This is all quite possible, Monsieur. But I prefer to be prepared for any eventuality in this tavern!”
And she went into her room and shut the door.
The ex-queen’s insolence upset me. I was possessed by a furious desire to turn them all out of doors. The prospect of living in the same house with these people for days — perhaps for weeks, seemed unbearable. Surely there must be some way out of the valley!
Down stairs I saw Raoul coming from the front courtyard leading two strange horses attached to a sort of carryall.
“Where on earth did you discover that rig?” I called out to him in the starlight.
“Two guests have just arrived,” he replied, laughing.
I hurried out to where he stood.
“Guests!” I repeated. “Where did they come from? Isn’t the pass closed?”
“Sealed tight, Monsieur O’Ryan. But when the avalanche fell this vehicle and its passengers were just far enough inside the pass to be caught.
“I understand they’ve been digging themselves out of the snow all this time. They’ve just arrived and are in the long hall asking for accommodations.”
“Who are they?” I demanded in utter disgust; “more huns?”
“One is a Turkish gentleman,” he said. “The other is the driver. I will take care of him. The Turkish traveler’s name is Eddin Bey, and he says he’s a friend of Admiral Lauterlaus.”
I went into the house and discovered Eddin Bey entering his signature on the ledger while Clelia with keys and candle waited beside him to show him to his quarters.
“Ah!” he exclaimed cordially when I named myself, offering his dark, nervous hand, “I am inexpressibly happy to have the privilege, Monsieur O’Ryan! A narrow escape for us, I assure you! — that mountain of snow roaring down on us and our horses whipped to a gallop! Not gay — eh? No, sir! And I thought we’d never dig out the horses and our wagon and luggage!”
I replied politely and suitably, and Clelia presently piloted this dark, lean, vivacious young man to his quarters across the corridor from General von Dungheim.
When she returned her flushed, set features arrested my attention. “Did that Turk annoy you, Clelia?” I asked sharply.
She shrugged: “Tavern gallantry,” she replied briefly: “men of that sort are prone to it.”
I said: “If any of these people annoy you and Thusis come to me at once.”
She laughed: “Dear Monsieur O’Ryan,” she said, “Thusis and I know how to take care of ourselves.” She came nearer, looking up at me out of her lovely, friendly eyes:
“Thusis is in her room. It isn’t very proper, of course, but she is waiting for you. Will you go?”
“Yes.”
Clelia laid one hand lightly on my arm, and her smile became wistful and troubled:
“You do care for my sister, don’t you?”
“I am deeply in love with her.”
“I was afraid so.”
“Afraid?”
“Oh, I don’t know how Thusis is going to behave, — how she is going to take it!” said Clelia in frank anxiety. “Never before has she cared for any man; and I don’t know what she’s going to do about you — indeed I don’t, Mr. O’Ryan!”
“Could you tell me,” said I bluntly, “what obstacles stand in the way of my marrying your sister?”
“Thusis should tell you.”
“She isn’t already married?”
“Good Heavens, no!”
“Is it a matter of religion?”
“Thusis must tell you. I could not speak for her, — interfere with her. My sister will act for herself — assume all responsibility for whatever she chooses to do.... As I do.”
I took Clelia’s soft hands in mine and looked earnestly into her face:
“You, also, care for a man; don’t you?”
She bent her head in wordless assent.
“What are you going to do about it, Clelia?”
“Whatever he wishes.”
“Marry him?”
“If he wishes.”
“You are an astounding girl!”
“I am an astounded girl. I never supposed I should take such a view of life, of its obligations, of my own position in the world.... Lately, in the probable imminence of sudden death, I became a little reckless — perhaps excited — willing to learn in these brief hours the more innocent elements of love — curious to experience even the least real of its mysteries — to play coquette in the pretty comedy — even with you — —”
She gave me a vague smile and slowly shook her head.
“All the while,” she said, “I was in love with him. I didn’t know it because I didn’t know him. When I felt frivolous and wished to laugh he was serious. His solemnity stirred me to audacity; and when I said a lot of silly things I didn’t mean he preached at me; and I bullied him and was impudent and showed my contempt for a man who would endure such tyranny.... That is how it began.... And all the while, not knowing it, I was falling more completely in love. Isn’t it odd?”
She smiled, pressed my hands, shook her head as though at a loss to account for her behavior.
“The first hint of it I had,” she said, “was when he coolly warned me that he would thwart me. And I looked into his eyes and knew him for the first time — knew him to be the stronger, the wiser, the more capable, — and the more powerful.
“And I realized, all in a moment, that he had endured my contempt and tyranny merely because he chose to; that he was a real man, in cool possession of his own destiny; that, if he chose, he could clear his mind of me, and presently his heart; that I was not essential to him, not necessary; that, indeed, unless I instantly took myself in hand and made an effort to measure up to him, he’d turn from me, — quite courteously — and go his own way with a kindly indifference which suddenly seemed terrifying to me.... And I loved him.... And let him know.... And that is how it happened with me.”
After a long pause: “What would happen,” I inquired, “if I tried that sort of thing on Thusis?”
Clelia shook her head: “Thusis and I are different. I don’t wish to be a martyr.”
“Does Thusis?”
“I’m rather afraid she is inclined that way. Of course we both were quite willing to suffer physical martyrdom if we failed to carry off these wretched kings. That is a different kind of martyrdom — a shot in the brain, a knife thrust — perhaps a brutish supplice from the boche — —” She shrugged her shoulders. “We were not afraid,” she added. “But when another sort of death suddenly confronted me — the death of love in him I loved — I had no courage — none at all. You see I am not the stuff of which martyrs are fashioned, Mr. O’Ryan.”
“Is Thusis?”
“Alas!”
“She prefers to suffer?”
“I am afraid she will become a martyr to a pride which interprets for her the old, outworn doggerel of ages dead.... I can’t repeat it to you.”
“Noblesse oblige?”
“That phrase occurs in it.”
“Oh.... So Thusis, caring for me, will send me away,” I said.
“I cannot answer you.”
“Can you advise me, Clelia?”
She looked up at me; tears sprang to her eyes; she pressed my hands, but shook her head.
XX. A LOCAL STORM
I KNOCKED VERY gently at Thusis’s door and she opened it, signed for me to enter, then closed it cautiously.
“Do you know,” said I, “that it is after midnight?”
“I know it is. But as long as others don’t know you are here, what does it matter, Michael?”
“Of course,” I muttered, “you and I know there’s no cause for scandal.”
Her delightful laughter welled up from the whitest throat I have ever seen, but she instantly suppressed it.
“We’re very indiscreet,” she said mockingly; “we’ve exchanged hearts and we’re here in my bedroom at midnight. Can you imagine what that queen downstairs would say?”
“Had you meant to kidnap her, also?” I inquired.
“No,” she said scornfully. “The Allies can take care of the Hohenzollern litter after they take the sty.”
“Berlin,” I nodded.
“Berlin. Hercules had no such task in his Augean stable. It was Hercules, wasn’t it, Michael? I always get him and his labors mixed up with Theseus. But the Prince of Argolis used address, not bull force.... His mother’s name was Æthra.... My mother’s name was Æthra, too.”
“That is Greek.”
“Very. And the name of the ancient pal — I mean the name of our old house on the island of Naxos was Thalassa! — You remember the Ten Thousand?”
“Yes. Your house overlooked the sea?”
“The Ægean! You enter from the landward lawn, advance toward the portico — and suddenly, through the marble corridor, a sheet of azure! Thalassa!”
I said slowly: “Little white goddess of Naxos with hair like the sun and eyes of Ægean blue, why have you sent for me to come to your chamber at midnight?”
Thusis looked at me and her happy smile faded.
“To ask one question,” she said very gravely, “and to answer one — if you ask it.”
“Ask yours, first.”
“What did that dreadful Princess say to you and to Mr. Smith after I left the room?”
I told her what had passed.
“What!” she cried fiercely, clenching her hands. “Tino had the impudence to offer her Naxos as a bribe!”
“The Duchy of Naxos,” I repeated.
I have never seen an angrier or more excited girl. She sprang to her feet and began to pace the bedroom, her hands doubled in fury, her face tense and white.
“Naxos!” she kept repeating in a voice strangled by emotion. “That treacherous Tino offers Naxos to a miserable, fat Russian Princess! Oh! Was ever such an insult offered to any girl! Naxos! My Naxos! Could the civilized world believe it! Can the outrage on Belgium equal such an infamy! Even with the spectacle of martyred France, of Roumania in Teuton chains, of Russia floundering in blood — could the world believe its senses if Naxos is betrayed!”
Her emotion was tragic, yet it seemed to me that the lovely Thusis took Naxos a trifle too seriously. Because I was not at all certain that this same civilized and horrified world was unanimously aware of the existence of Naxos. But I didn’t say this to Thusis.
As she paced the room she wrung her hands once or twice naïvely deploring the avalanche.
“Because,” she said, halting in front of me, “Smith or no Smith, I should certainly attempt to seize this treacherous, beastly Constantine, and smuggle him over the frontier. The traitor! The double traitor! For Naxos is not his! No! It is a Venetian Duchy. What if Turkey did steal it! What if Greece stole it in turn? It is Venetian. It is Italian. It is my home and I love it! It is my birthplace and I worship it! It is my native land and I adore it!”
“The King of Italy,” I reminded her, “does not seem to desire that Naxos be included in his domain.”
“But I do!” she said passionately. “I am a Venetian of Naxos. Have I not the right to decide where my island belongs? For six hundred years my family has owed allegiance to Venice — and naturally, therefore, to Italy. Have I not every right to raise the banner of revolt in Naxos and defy this ruffianly ex-king who comes sneaking stealthily into Switzerland to plot for his own restoration? — who comes here secretly to offer Naxos to a vulgar Russian as a bribe for financial aid? — offers to sell my home for a few millions cash and buy cannon and men and send them into Greece to fight for him and his rotten throne?”
“Thusis — —”
“No!” she said violently, “there is no argument possible. And God never sent His avalanche to ruin my hopes and destroy all chance of freedom for Naxos! It was the bestial Gott of the boche who loosed the snow up yonder — the filthy fetish of the hun who did that!” She flung out her white arms and looked upward. And “oh!” she cried, “for one hour of the old Greek gods to call on! Oh for the thunderbolts of Zeus! — the spear of Athene! — the tender grace and mercy of Aphrodite, and her swift and flaming vengeance when her temples were profaned! — when her children were betrayed and disinherited! — Naxos — my Naxos — —”
