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  III. MISS GUGGENSLOCKER

  He laughed, looking down into her serious upturned face. A brief smileof understanding flitted across her lips as she broke away from himand threw herself into the arms of tall, excited Uncle Caspar. Theconductor, several trainmen and a few eager passengers came up, theformer crusty and snappish.

  "Well, get aboard!" he growled. "We can't wait all night."

  The young lady looked up quickly, her sensitive face cringing beneaththe rough command. Lorry stepped instantly to the conductor's side,shook his finger vigorously under his nose, and exclaimed in nouncertain tones:

  "Now, that's enough from you! If I hear another word out of you, I'llmake you sweat blood before tomorrow morning. Understand, my friend."

  "Aw, who are you?" demanded the conductor, belligerently.

  "You'll learn that soon enough. After this you'll have sense enough tofind out whom you are talking to before you open that mouth of yours.Not another word!" Mr. Grenfall Lorry was not president of the road,nor was he in any way connected with it, but his well assumed air ofauthority caused the trainman's ire to dissolve at once.

  "Excuse me, sir. I've been worried to death on this run. I meant nooffence. That old gentleman has threatened to kill me. Just now hetook out his watch and said if I did not run back for his niece in twominutes he'd call me out and run me through. I've been nearly crazyhere. For the life of me, I don't see how you happened to be--"

  "Oh, that's all right. Let's be off," cried Lorry, who had fallen somedistance behind his late companion and her uncle. Hurrying after them,he reached her side in time to assist her in mounting the car steps.

  "Thank you," smiling down upon him bewitchingly. At the top of the stepsshe was met by her aunt, behind whom stood the anxious man-servant andthe maid. Into the coach she was drawn by the relieved old lady, whowas critically inspecting her personal appearance when Lorry and theforeigner entered.

  "Ach, it was so wild and exhilarating, Aunt Yvonne," the girl wassaying, her eyes sparkling. She stood straight and firm, her chin in theair, her hands in those of her aunt. The little traveling cap was onthe side of her head, her hair was loose and very much awry, strandsstraying here, curls blowing there in utter confusion. Lorry fairlygasped with admiration for the loveliness that would not be vanquished.

  "We came like the wind! I shall never, never forget it," she said.

  "But how could you have remained there, child? Tell me how it happened.We have been frantic," said her aunt, half in English, half in German.

  "Not now, dear Aunt Yvonne. See my hair! What a fright I must be!Fortunate man, your hair cannot be so unruly as mine. Oh!" Theexclamation was one of alarm. In an instant she was at his side, peeringwith terrified eyes at the bloodstains on his neck and face. "It isblood! You are hurt! Uncle Caspar, Hedrick--quick! Attend him! Come tomy room at once. You are suffering. Minna, find bandages!"

  She dragged him to the door of her section before he could interpose aremonstrance.

  "It is nothing--a mere scratch. Bumped my head against the side of thecoach. Please don't worry about it; I can care for myself. Really, itdoesn't--"

  "But it does! It has bled terribly. Sit there! Now, Hedrick, somewater."

  Hedrick rushed off and was back in a moment with a basin of water, asponge and a towel, and before Grenfall fully knew what was happening,the man-servant was bathing his head, the others looking on anxiously,the young lady apprehensively, her hands clasped before her as she bentover to inspect the wound above his ear.

  "It is quite an ugly cut," said Uncle Caspar, critically. "Does it painyou, sir?"

  "Oh, not a great deal," answered Lorry, closing his eyes comfortably. Itwas all very pleasant, he thought.

  "Should it not have stitches, Uncle Caspar?" asked the sweet, eagervoice.

  "I think not. The flow is staunched. If the gentleman will allow Hedrickto trim the hair away for a plaster and then bandage it I think thewound will give him no trouble." The old man spoke slowly and in verygood English.

  "Really, Uncle, is it not serious?"

  "No, no," interposed Grenfall Lorry. "I knew it was a trifle. You cannotbreak an American's head. Let me go to my own section and I'll be readyto present myself, as good as new, in ten minutes."

  "You must let Hedrick bandage your head," she insisted. "Go with him,Hedrick."

  Grenfall arose and started toward his section, followed by Hedrick.

  "I trust you were not hurt during that reckless ride," he said, more asa question, stopping in the aisle to look back at her.

  "I should have been a mass of bruises, gashes and lumps had it not beenfor one thing," she said, a faint flush coming to her cheek, althoughher eyes looked unfalteringly into his. "Will you join us in the diningcar? I will have a place prepared for you at our table."

  "Thank you. You are very good. I shall join you as soon as I ampresentable."

  "We are to be honored, sir," said the old gentleman, but in such away that Grenfall had a distinct feeling that it was he who was to behonored. Aunt Yvonne smiled graciously, and he took his departure.While Hedrick was dressing the jagged little cut, Grenfall complacentlysurveyed the patient in the mirror opposite, and said to himself ahundred times: "You lucky dog! It was worth forty gashes like this. ByJove, she's divine!"

  In a fever of eager haste he bathed and attired himself for dinner, theimperturbable Hedrick assisting. One query filled the American's mind:"I wonder if I am to sit beside her." And then: "I have sat beside her!There can never again be such delight!"

  It was seven o'clock before his rather unusual toilet was completed."See if they have gone to the diner, Hedrick," he said to theman-servant, who departed ceremoniously.

  "I don't know why he should be so damned polite," observed Lorry,gazing wonderingly after him. "I'm not a king. That reminds me. I mustintroduce myself. She doesn't know me from Adam."

  Hedrick returned and announced that they had just gone to the dining carand were awaiting him there. He hurried to the diner and made his wayto their table. Uncle Caspar and his niece were facing him as he cameup between the tables, and he saw, with no little regret, that he was tosit beside the aunt--directly opposite the girl, however. She smiled upat him as he stood before them, bowing. He saw the expression of inquiryin those deep, liquid eyes of violet as their gaze wandered over hishair.

  "Your head? I see no bandage," she said, reproachfully.

  "There is a small plaster and that is all. Only heroes may havedangerous wounds," he said, laughingly.

  "Is heroism in America measured by the number of stitches or the size ofthe plaster?" she asked, pointedly. "In my country it is a joy, and nota calamity. Wounds are the misfortune of valor. Pray, be seated, Mr.Lorry is it not?" she said, pronouncing it quaintly.

  He sat down rather suddenly on hearing her utter his name. How had shelearned it? Not a soul on the train knew it, he was sure.

  "I am Caspar Guggenslocker. Permit me, Mr. Lorry, to present my wife andmy niece, Miss Guggenslocker," said the uncle, more gracefully than hehad ever heard such a thing uttered before.

  In a daze, stunned by the name,--Guggenslocker, mystified over theiracquaintance with his own when he had been foiled at every fair attemptto learn theirs, Lorry could only mumble his acknowledgments. In allhis life he had never lost command of himself as at this moment.Guggenslocker! He could feel the dank sweat of disappointment startingon his brow. A butcher,--a beer maker,--a cobbler,--a gardener,--allsynonyms of Guggenslocker. A sausage manufacturer's niece--MissGuggenslocker! He tried to glance unconcernedly at her as he took uphis napkin, but his eyes wavered helplessly. She was looking serenely athim, yet he fancied he saw a shadow of mockery in her blue eyes.

  "If you were a novel writer, Mr. Lorry, what manner of heroine wouldyou choose?" she asked, with a smile so tantalizing that he understoodinstinctively why she was reviving a topic once abandoned. Hisconfusion was increased. Her uncle and aunt were regarding himcalmly,--expectantly, he imagined.

  "I--I have n
o ambition to be a novel writer," he said, "so I have notmade a study of heroines."

  "But you would have an ideal," she persisted.

  "I'm sure I--I don't--that is, she would not necessarily be a heroine.Unless, of course, it would require heroism to pose as an ideal for sucha prosaic fellow as I."

  "To begin with, you would call her Clarabel Montrose or somethingequally as impossible. You know the name of a heroine in a novel mustbe euphonious. That is an exacting rule." It was an open taunt, andhe could see that she was enjoying his discomfiture. It aroused hisindignation and his wits.

  "I would first give my hero a distinguished name. No matter what theheroine's name might be--pretty or otherwise--I could easily change itto his in the last chapter." She flushed beneath his now bright, keeneyes and the ready, though unexpected retort. Uncle Caspar placed hisnapkin to his lips and coughed. Aunt Yvonne studiously inspected herbill of fare. "No matter what you call a rose, it is always sweet," headded, meaningly.

  At this she laughed good-naturedly. He marveled at her white teethand red lips. A rose, after all. Guggenslocker, rose; rose, notGuggenslocker. No, no! A rose only! He fancied he caught a sly look oftriumph in her uncle's swift glance toward her. But Uncle Caspar was nota rose--he was Guggenslocker. Guggenslocker--butcher! Still, he did notlook the part--no, indeed. That extraordinary man a butcher, a gardener,a--and Aunt Yvonne? Yet they were Guggenslockers.

  "Here is the waiter," the girl observed, to his relief. "I am famishedafter my pleasant drive. It was so bracing, was it not Mr. GrenfallLorry?"

  "Give me a mountain ride always as an appetizer," he said, obligingly,and so ended the jest about a name.

  The orders for the dinner were given and the quartette sat back in theirchairs to await the coming of the soup. Grenfall was still wondering howshe had learned his name, and was on the point of asking several timesduring the conventional discussion of the weather, the train and themountains. He considerately refrained, however, unwilling to embarrassher.

  "Aunt Yvonne tells me she never expected to see me alive after thestation agent telegraphed that we were coming overland in that awful oldcarriage. The agent at P---- says it is a dangerous road, at the veryedge of the mountain. He also increased the composure of my uncle andaunt by telling them that a wagon rolled off yesterday, killing a man,two women and two horses. Dear Aunt Yvonne, how troubled you must havebeen."

  "I'll confess there were times when I thought we were rolling down themountain," said Lorry, with a relieved shake of the head.

  "Sometimes I thought we were soaring through space, whether upward ordownwards I could not tell. We never failed to come to earth, though,did we?" she laughingly asked.

  "Emphatically! Earth and a little grief," he said, putting his hand tohis head.

  "Does it pain you?" she asked, quickly.

  "Not in the least. I was merely feeling to see if the cut were stillthere. Mr--Mr. Guggenslocker, did the conductor object to holding thetrain?" he asked, remembering what the conductor had told him of the oldgentleman's actions.

  "At first, but I soon convinced him that it should be held," said theother, quietly.

  "My husband spoke very harshly to the poor man," added Aunt Yvonne."But, I am afraid, Caspar, he did not understand a word you said. Youwere very much excited." The sweet old lady's attempts at English weremuch more laborious than her husband's.

  "If he did not understand my English, he was very good at guessing,"said her husband, grimly.

  "He told me you had threatened to call him out," ventured the young man.

  "Call him out? Ach, a railroad conductor!" exclaimed Uncle Caspar, infine scorn.

  "Caspar, I heard you say that you would call him out," interposed hiswife, with reproving eyes.

  "Ach, God! God! I have made a mistake! I see it all! It was theother word I meant--down not out! I intended to call him down, as youAmericans say. I hope he will not think I challenged him." He was verymuch perturbed.

  "I think he was afraid you would," said Lorry.

  "He should have no fear. I could not meet a railroad conductor. Will youplease tell him I could not so condescend? Besides, dueling is murder inyour country, I am told."

  "It usually is, sir. Much more so than in Europe." The others lookedat him inquiringly. "I mean that in America when two men pulltheir revolvers and go to shooting at each other, some one iskilled--frequently both. In Europe, as I understand it, a scratch with asword ends the combat."

  "You have been misinformed," exclaimed Uncle Caspar, his eyebrowselevated.

  "Why, Uncle Caspar has fought more duels than he can count," cried thegirl, proudly.

  "And has he slain his man every time?" asked Grenfall, smilingly,glancing from one to the other. Aunt Yvonne shot a reproving look at thegirl, whose face paled instantly, her eyes going quickly in affright tothe face of her uncle.

  "God!" Lorry heard the old gentleman mutter. He was looking at his billof fare, but his eyes were fixed and staring. The card was crumplingbetween the long, bony fingers. The American realized that a forbiddentopic had been touched upon.

  "He has fought and he has slain," he thought as quick as a flash, "He isno butcher, no gardener, no cobbler. That's certain!"

  "Tell us, Uncle Caspar, what you said to the conductor," cried the younglady, nervously.

  "Tell them, Caspar, how alarmed we were," added soft-voiced Aunt Yvonne.Grenfall was a silent, interested spectator. He somehow felt as if ascene from some tragedy had been reproduced in that briefest of moments.Calmly and composedly, a half smile now in his face, the soldierlyCaspar narrated the story of the train's run from one station to theother.

  "We did not miss you until we had almost reached the other station. Thenyour Aunt Yvonne asked me where you had gone. I told her I had not seenyou, but went into the coach ahead to search. You were not there. Then Iwent on to the dining car. Ach, you were not there. In alarm I returnedto our car. Your aunt and I looked everywhere. You were not anywhere.I shall never forget your aunt's face when she sank into a chair, norshall I feel again so near like dying as when she suggested that youmight have fallen from the train. I sent Hedrick ahead to summon theconductor, but he had hardly left us when the engine whistled sharplyand the train began to slow up in a jerky fashion. We were very paleas we looked at each other, for something told us that the stop wasunusual. I rushed to the platform meeting Hedrick, who was as muchalarmed as I. He said the train had been flagged, and that there mustbe something wrong. Your aunt came out and told me that she had made astrange discovery."

  Grenfall observed that he was addressing himself exclusively to theyoung lady.

  "She had found that the gentleman in the next section was also missing.While we were standing there in doubt and perplexity, the train came toa standstill, and soon there was shouting on the outside. I climbed downfrom the car and saw that we were at a little station. The conductorcame running toward me excitedly.

  "'Is the young lady in the car?' he asked.

  "'No. For Heaven's sake, what have you heard?'I cried.

  "'Then she has been left at O----,' he exclaimed, and used some veryextraordinary American words.

  "I then informed him that he should run back for you, first learningthat you were alive and well. He said he would be damned if hewould--pardon the word, ladies. He was very angry, and said he wouldgive orders to go ahead, but I told him I would demand restitution ofhis government. He laughed in my face, and then I became shamelesslyangry. I said to him:

  "'Sir, I shall call you down--not out, as you have said--and I shall runyou through the mill.'

  "That was good American talk, sir, was it not, Mr. Lorry? I wantedhim to understand me, so I tried to use your very best language. Somegentlemen who are traveling on this train and some very excellent ladiesalso joined in the demand that the train be held. His despatch fromO---- said that you, Mr. Lorry, insisted on having it held for twentyminutes. The conductor insulted you, sir, by saying that you hadmore--ah, what is it?--gall than any idiot h
e had ever seen. When hesaid that, although I did not fully understand that it was a reflectionon you, so ignorant am I of your language, I took occasion to tell himthat you were a gentleman and a friend of mine. He asked me your name,but, as I did not know it, I could only tell him that he would learn itsoon enough. Then he said something which has puzzled me ever since. Hetold me to close my face. What did he mean by that, Mr. Lorry?"

  "Well, Mr. Guggenslocker, that means, in refined American, 'stoptalking,'" said Lorry, controlling a desire to shout.

  "Ach, that accounts for his surprise when I talked louder and fasterthan ever. I did not know what he meant. He said positively he would notwait, but just then a second message came from the other station. I didnot know what it was then, but a gentleman told me that it instructedhim to hold the train if he wanted to hold his job. Job is situation,is it not? Well, when he read that message he said he would wait justtwenty minutes. I asked him to tell me how you were coming to us, but herefused to answer. Your aunt and I went at once to the telegraph manand implored him to tell us the truth, and he said you were coming in acarriage over a very dangerous road. Imagine our feelings when he saidsome people had been killed yesterday on that very road.

  "He said you would have to drive like the--the very devil if you gothere in twenty minutes."

  "We did, Uncle Caspar," interrupted Miss Guggenslocker, naively. "Ourdriver followed Mr. Lorry's instructions."

  Mr. Grenfall Lorry blushed and laughed awkwardly. He had been admiringher eager face and expressive eyes during Uncle Caspar's recital. Howsweet her voice when it pronounced his name, how charming the foreignflavor to the words.

  "He would not have understood if I had said other things," he explained,hastily.

  "When your aunt and I returned to the train we saw the conductor holdinghis watch. He said to me: 'In just three minutes we pull out. If theyare not here by that time they can get on the best they know how. I'vedone all I can: I did not say a word, but went to my section and hadHedrick get out my pistols. If the train left before you arrived itwould be without its conductor. In the meantime, your Aunt Yvonne waspleading with the wretch. I hastened back to his side with my pistols inmy pocket. It was then that I told him to start his train if he dared.That man will never know how close he was to death. One minute passed,and he coolly announced that but one minute was left. I had made up mymind to give him one of my pistols when the time was up, and to tellhim to defend himself. It was not to be a duel, for there was nothingregular about it. It was only a question as to whether the train shouldmove. Then came the sound of carriage wheels and galloping horses.Almost before we knew it you were with us. I am so happy that you werenot a minute later."

  There was something so cool and grim in the quiet voice, something sodetermined in those brilliant eyes, that Grenfall felt like looking upthe conductor to congratulate him. The dinner was served, and whileit was being discussed his fair companion of the drive graphicallydescribed the experience of twenty strange minutes in a shackle-downmountain coach. He was surprised to find that she omitted no part, noteven the hand clasp or the manner in which she clung to him. His earsburned as he listened to this frank confession, for he expected tohear words of disapproval from the uncle and aunt. His astonishment wasincreased by their utter disregard of these rather peculiar details.It was then that he realized how trusting she had been, how serenelyunconscious of his tender and sudden passion. And had she told herrelatives that she had kissed him, he firmly believed they would havesmiled approvingly. Somehow the real flavor of romance was stricken fromthe ride by her candid admissions. What he had considered a romantictreasure was being calmly robbed of its glitter, leaving for his memorythe blurr of an adventure in which he had played the part of a gallantgentleman and she a grateful lady. He was beginning to feel ashamed ofthe conceit that had misled him. Down in his heart he was saying: "Imight have known it. I did know it. She is not like other women." Theperfect confidence that dwelt in the rapt faces of the others forcedinto his wondering mind the impression that this girl could do no wrong.

  "And, Aunt Yvonne," she said, in conclusion, "the luck which you say ismine as birthright asserted itself. I escaped unhurt, while Mr. Lorryalone possesses the pain and unpleasantness of our ride."

  "I possess neither," he objected. "The pain that you refer to is apleasure."

  "The pain that a man endures for a woman should always be a pleasure,"said Uncle Caspar smilingly.

  "But it could not be a pleasure to him unless the woman considered it apain," reasoned Miss Guggenslocker. "He could not feel happy if she didnot respect the pain."

  "And encourage it," supplemented Lorry, drily. "If you do not remind meoccasionally that I am hurt, Miss Guggenslocker, I am liable to forgetit." To himself he added: "I'll never learn how to say it in onebreath."

  "If I were not so soon to part from you I should be your physician,and, like all physicians, prolong your ailment interminably," she said,prettily.

  "To my deepest satisfaction," he said, warmly, not lightly. There wasnothing further from his mind than servile flattery, as his rejoindermight imply. "Alas!" he went on, "we no sooner meet than we part. May Iask when you are to sail?"

  "On Thursday," replied Mr. Guggenslocker.

  "On the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse," added his niece, a faraway lookcoming into her eyes.

  "We are to stop off one day, to-morrow, in Washington," said AuntYvonne, and the jump that Lorry's heart gave was so mighty that he wasafraid they could see it in his face.

  "My uncle has some business to transact in your city, Mr. Lorry. We areto spend tomorrow there and Wednesday in New York. Then we sail. Ach,how I long for Thursday!" His heart sank like lead to the depths fromwhich it had sprung. It required no effort on his part to see thathe was alone in his infatuation. Thursday was more to her than hisexistence; she could forget him and think of Thursday, and when shethought of Thursday, the future, he was but a thing of the past, noteven of the present.

  "Have you always lived in Washington, Mr. Lorry?" asked Mrs.Guggenslocker.

  "All my life," he replied wishing at that moment that he was homelessand free to choose for himself.

  "You Americans live in one city and then in another," she said. "Now, inour country generation after generation lives and dies in one town. Weare not migratory."

  "Mr. Lorry has offended us by not knowing where Graustark is located onthe map," cried the young lady, and he could see the flash of resentmentin her eyes.

  "Why, my dear sir, Graustark is in--" began Uncle Caspar, but she checkedhim instantly.

  "Uncle Caspar, you are not to tell him. I have recommended that hestudy geography and discover us for himself. He should be ashamed of hisignorance."

  He was not ashamed, but he mentally vowed that before he was a day olderhe would find Graustark on the map and would stock his negligent brainwith all that history and the encyclopedia had to say of the unknownland. Her uncle laughed, and, to Lorry's disappointment, obeyed theyoung lady's command.

  "Shall I study the map of Europe, Asia or Africa?" asked he, and theylaughed.

  "Study the map of the world," said Miss Guggenslocker, proudly.

  "Edelweiss is the capital?"

  "Yes, our home city,--the queen of the crags," cried she. "You shouldsee Edelweiss, Mr. Lorry. It is of the mountain, the plain and the sky.There are homes in the valley, homes on the mountain side and homes inthe clouds."

  "And yours? From what you say it must be above the clouds--in heaven."

  "We are farthest from the clouds, for we live in the green valley,shaded by the white topped mountains. We may, in Edelweiss, have whatclimate we will. Doctors do not send us on long journeys for our health.They tell us to move up or down the mountain. We have balmy spring,glorious summer, refreshing autumn and chilly winter, just as we like."

  "Ideal! I think you must be pretty well toward the south. You could nothave July and January if you were far north."

  "True; yet we have January in July. Study your map
. We are discernibleto the naked eye," she said, half ironically.

  "I care not if there are but three inhabitants Graustark, all told, itis certainly worthy of a position on any map," said Lorry, gallantly;and his listeners applauded with patriotic appreciation. "By the way,Mr. Gug--Guggenslocker, you say the conductor asked you for my nameand you did not know it. May I ask how you learned it later on?" Hiscuriosity got the better of him, and his courage was increased by thechampagne the old gentleman had ordered.

  "I did not know your name until my niece told it to me after yourarrival in the carriage," said Uncle Caspar.

  "I don't remember giving it to Miss Guggenslocker at any time," saidLorry.

  "You were not my informant," she said, demurely.

  "Surely you did not guess it."

  "Oh, no, indeed. I am no mind reader."

  "My own name was the last thing you could have read in my mind, in thatevent, for I have not thought of it in three days."

  She was sitting with her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, adreamy look in her blue eyes.

  "You say you obtained that coin from the porter on the Denver train?"

  "Within two hours after I got aboard."

  "Well, that coin purchased your name for me," she said, calmly,candidly. He gasped.

  "You--you don't mean that you--" he stammered.

  "You see, Mr. Lorry, I wanted to know the name of a man who came nearestmy ideal of what an American should be. As soon as I saw you I knewthat you were the American as I had grown to know him through thebooks,--big, strong, bold and comely. That is why I bought your nameof the porter. I shall always say that I know the name of an idealAmerican,--Grenfall Lorry."

  The ideal American was not unmoved. He was in a fever of fear andhappiness,--fear because he thought she was jesting, happiness becausehe hoped she was not. He laughed awkwardly, absolutely unable to expresshimself in words. Her frank statement staggered him almost beyond thepower of recovery.

  There was joy in the knowledge that she had been attracted to him atfirst sight, but there was bitterness in the thought that he had come toher notice as a sort of specimen, the name of which she had sought as abotanist would look for the name of an unknown flower.

  "I--I am honored," he at last managed to say, his eyes gleaming withembarrassment. "I trust you have not found your first judgment a faultyone." He felt very foolish after this flat remark.

  "I have remembered your name," she said, graciously. His heart swelled.

  "There are a great many better Americans than I," he said. "You forgetour president and our statesmen."

  "I thought they were mere politicians."

  Grenfall Lorry, idealized, retired to his berth that night, his headwhirling with the emotions inspired by this strange, beautiful woman.How lovely, how charming, how naive, how queenly, how indifferent, howwarm, how cold--how everything that puzzled him was she. His last wakingthought was:

  "Guggenslocker! An angel with a name like that!"