Evidently his friends were of the same opinion, for after a long harangue in which he was obdurate to the last, they left the carriage and he sank back with a groan of dejection.
“What is it?” she anxiously demanded.
“They also insist that I shall go to a surgeon,” he said hopelessly. His eyes were moist and he could not meet her gaze. She was full of exultation.
“They have advised me to put myself under your protection, shameless as that may seem to a man. You and you alone have the power to protect me if I pass beyond the walls of Ganlook.”
“I?” she cried, all a-flutter.
“I could not thrust my head into the jaws of death unless the princess of Graustark were there to stay their fury. Your royal hand alone can turn aside the inevitable. Alas, I am helpless and know not what to do.”
Beverly Calhoun sat very straight and silent beside the misguided Baldos. After all, it was not within her power to protect him. She was not the princess and she had absolutely no influence in Ganlook. The authorities there could not be deceived as had been these ignorant men of the hills. If she led him into the city it was decidedly probable that she might be taking him to his death. She only could petition, not command. Once at Yetive’s side she was confident she could save the man who had done so much for her, but Ganlook was many miles from Edelweiss, and there was no assurance that intervention could be obtained in time. On the other hand, if he went back to the hills he was likely to die of the poisonous fever. Beverly was in a most unhappy state of mind. If she confessed to him that she was not the princess, he would refuse to enter the gates of Ganlook, and be perfectly justified in doing so.
“But if I should fail?” she asked, at last, a shiver rushing over her and leaving her cold with dread.
“You are the only hope, your highness. You had better say farewell to Baldos and let him again seek the friendly valley,” said he wearily. “We can go no farther. The soldiers must be near, your highness. It means capture if we go on. I cannot expose my friends to the dangers. Let me be put down here, and do you drive on to safety. I shall fare much better than you think, for I am young and strong and—”
“No! I’ll risk it,” she cried. “You must go into the city. Tell them so and say that I will protect you with my own life and honor.”
Fever made him submissive; her eyes gave him confidence; her voice soothed his fears, if he possessed them. Leaning from the window, he called his men together. Beverly looked on in wonder as these strange men bade farewell to their leader. Many of them were weeping, and most of them kissed his hand. There were broken sentences, tear-choked promises, anxious inquiries, and the parting was over.
“Where are they going?” Beverly whispered, as they moved away in the dusk.
“Back into the mountains to starve, poor fellows. God be kind to them, God be good to them,” he half sobbed, his chin dropping to his breast. He was trembling like a leaf.
“Starve?” she whispered. “Have they no money?”
“We are penniless,” came in muffled tones from the stricken leader.
Beverly leaned from the window and called to the departing ones. Ravone and one other reluctantly approached. Without a word she opened a small traveling bag and drew forth a heavy purse. This she pressed into the hand of the student. It was filled with Graustark gavvos, for which she had exchanged American gold in Russia.
“God be with you,” she fervently cried. He kissed her hand, and the two stood aside to let the coach roll on into the dusky shadows that separated them from the gates of Ganlook, old Franz still driving—the only one of the company left to serve his leader to the very end.
“Well, we have left them,” muttered Baldos, as though to himself. “I may never see them again—never see them again. God, how true they have been!”
“I shall send for them the moment I get to Ganlook and I’ll promise pardons for them all,” she cried rashly, in her compassion.
“No!” he exclaimed fiercely. “You are not to disturb them. Better that they should starve.”
Beverly was sufficiently subdued. As they drew nearer the city gates her heart began to fail her. This man’s life was in her weak, incapable hands and the time was nearing when she must stand between him and disaster.
“Where are these vaunted soldiers of yours?” he suddenly asked, infinite irony in his voice.
“My soldiers?” she said faintly.
“Isn’t it rather unusual that, in time of trouble and uncertainty, we should be able to approach within a mile of one of your most important cities without even so much as seeing a soldier of Graustark?”
She felt that he was scoffing, but it mattered little to her.
“It is a bit odd, isn’t it?” she agreed.
“Worse than that, your highness.”
“I shall speak to Dangloss about it,” she said serenely, and he looked up in new surprise. Truly, she was an extraordinary princess.
Fully three-quarters of an hour passed before the coach was checked. Beverly, looking from the windows, had seem the lighted windows of cottages growing closer and closer together. The barking of roadside dogs was the only sound that could be heard above the rattle of the wheels. It was too dark inside the coach to see the face of the man beside her, but something told her that he was staring intently into the night, alert and anxious. The responsibility of her position swooped down upon her like an avalanche as she thought of what the next few minutes were to bring forth. It was the sudden stopping of the coach and the sharp commands from the outside that told her probation was at an end. She could no longer speculate; it was high time to act.
“The outpost,” came from Baldos, in strained tones.
“Perhaps they won’t know us—you, I mean,” she whispered.
“Baron Dangloss knows everybody,” he replied bitterly.
“What a horrid old busy-body he—” she started to say, but thought better of it.
A couple of lanterns flashed at the window, almost blinding her. Aunt Fanny groaned audibly, but the figure of Baldos seemed to stiffen with defiance. Uniformed men peered into the interior with more rudeness and curiosity than seemed respectful to a princess, to say the least. They saw a pretty, pleading face, with wide gray eyes and parted lips, but they did not bow in humble submission as Baldos had expected. One of the men, evidently in command, addressed Beverly in rough but polite tones. It was a question that he asked, she knew, but she could not answer him, for she could not understand him.
“What do you want?” she put in English, with a creditable display of dignity.
“He does not speak English, your highness,” volunteered Baldos, in a voice so well disguised that it startled her. The officer was staring blankly at her.
“Every officer in my army should and must learn to speak English,” she said, at her wits’ end, “I decline to be questioned by the fellow. Will you talk to him in my stead?”
“I, your highness?” he cried in dismay.
“Yes. Tell him who we are and ask where the hospital is,” she murmured, sinking back with the air of a queen, but with the inward feeling that all was lost.
“But I don’t speak your language well,” he protested.
“You speak it beautifully,” she said. Baldos leaned forward painfully and spoke to the officer in the Graustark tongue.
“Don’t you know your princess?” he demanded, a trifle harshly. The man’s eyes flew wide open in an instant and his jaw dropped.
“Th—the princess?” he gasped.
“Don’t stare like that, sir. Direct us to the main gate at once, or you will have