TALKING-TALBOT-Chapter-12

“It can’t be done without your consent,” Talbot said firmly enough, though in his heart he was not sure.

The prelate, a tall, portly man of imposing presence, was slowly approaching them as they stood a group apart in the vast salon. He bowed and smiled graciously as he moved along, and Talbot was quick to see that here was a force greater than any he had yet encountered.

“Save me, Sir Chester!” moaned the soft voice of the princess.

“Refuse to marry him,” he said in a whisper. “Do nothing without me by your side.”

He was at his wits’ end, and was nervously feeling of his hidden revolver, though he knew very well it was not force that was needed now.

The archbishop reached them. He greeted the duke cordially, though lifting his brows on seeing that he was the worse for what he had been drinking. The princess he seemed unfeignedly pleased to see.

“Why, highness,” he said benevolently, “I heard you were missing, yet here you are in the flesh and lovelier than ever.”

“I was missing, and I would be dead

now. monseigneur,” she answered, with recovered courage, “if it had not been for this gentleman. Herr Talbot, an American gentleman, monseigneur.”

“What are you saying?” he demanded of her as he put out his large, white hand to Talbot. “You would have been dead? What do you mean?”

“I was in the power of Prince Szchymsl and Countess Elsa, and I was about to be court-martialed and executed when this gentleman saved me.”

“We have heard that story too often already, highness,” interposed the duke coarsely. “The gentleman shall have his reward. Let us get to the business in hand.”

“What business?” she demanded. She kept close enough to Talbot to be able to reach out to him in case of need.

The duke laughed, and lurched toward her. She uttered a little cry and drew aside. He almost lost his balance, but recovered himself with a frown, and muttered something in Hungarian.

“I’ll not be married,” the princess cried, as if in response to what he had said.

“Highness!” remonstrated the noble who had tried to keep Talbot from her. The other high nobles, who had joined the group, murmured among themselves.

“My dear princess!” said the archbishop. “You are not in earnest.”

“I am. I will not marry the duke. Look at him?”

He was standing unsteadily opposite her, leering in a most unpleasant fashion. The archbishop looked, and bit his lip.

“Let us have a private conference,” said the noble who had already spoken.

“An excellent idea,” agreed the archbishop heartily.

“Quite right !” said the duke thickly. “Come, gentlemen!”

“You will come, too, highness?” rather commanded than asked the noble.

The princess put her trembling handout and laid it on Talbot’s arm. ‘”And Herr Talbot, too.”

“Herr Talbot has no concern with this.”

“If I wish it, he has.” she replied, her courage remaining with her. “And I do wish it. . Without him I will not go to your conference.”

”I trust Herr Talbot will see the impropriety ”

“I see no impropriety in doing what her highness wishes,” he interrupted in an icy tone.

“Really, gentlemen,” expostulated the prelate, “I do not see what harm there can be in the presence of this gentleman if her highness wishes to have him there.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Gentlemen.” said Talbot, impressive in his cold, impassive way, “you may as well understand that I am her highness’ devoted servant, and will carry out her wishes.”

He looked so extremely capable as he faced them all that the duke shrugged his shoulders and muttered something in Hungarian. Talbot felt Sonia’s fingers tighten on his arm. She said nothing, however, and he could only guess it was a threat the duke had muttered.

“Come, then, if you will have it so,” the noble said; ‘ we are making a spectacle here.”

“May I have the pleasure, highness?” asked the archbishop, bowing in his magnificent way. He turned, she took her place beside him, and the entire party went to a room across the hall.

There was silence while chairs were brought from different parts of the room and the members of the party seated themselves.

The duke had passed into a moody stage, and was glowering at Talbot. The nobles were exchanging angry and determined glances, and the archbishop was serenely complimenting the princess on her appearance. She and Talbot, a few chairs apart, were exchang-

ing glances — of encouragement on his part, of appeal on hers.

“Will you open the conference, Count Szolnak?” said one of the nobles, seeing that the duke was determinedly silent.

The noble who had already taken the lead in the matter glanced around as if to obtain the assurance that it was the wish of the assemblage that he should do so.

“The situation is most simple,” he said. ”The condition of the empire is such that a separation of Austria and Hungary is only a question of time. There are practically only two parties in Hungary ; the smaller one hoping for a republic, the larger one demanding a constitutional monarchy.

“The monarchical party is divided, in a sense, between those who wish to see his higness, the Duke of Jankovacz, on the throne, and those who wish to see her highness, the Princess Sonia K^torska. there.

“For a time there was conflict between these two parties, but now the leaders of both parties have come together and have decided that the welfare of our beloved country demands the union of the two aspirants to the throne to the end that there may be no sinful waste of blood.

“The marriage of the duke and the princess will bring instant peace to the country, and this marriage has been agreed upon by the leaders. That, I believe, is the present state of affairs, excepting that I neglected to state that advices from all over the country assure us that such a solution will meet with enthusiastic approval.”

“I will not marry him,” the princess said, her face white.

“You were willing once; why do you refuse now?” demanded Count Szolnak, with difficulty restraining his anger.

“Surely, my child.” remonstrated the archbishop in his most paternal manner, “you don’t wish to plunge the country into the horrors of civil war? Is not the present war shocking enough?”

“It will not create a civil war,” she answered quickly. “I renounce any pretension I have to the throne in favor of his highness. 1 will not marry him.”

“At least give us a reason,” pleaded the archbishop.

“Look at him !” she cried.

They all looked involuntarily at the duke. He was still glowering at Talbot, but in a purposeless way and with his body swaying slightly, as if he were trying to balance himself. His face was inflamed, and his lips loosely apart.

The archbishop bit his lip, and the others turned their eyes sullenly away from him.

“Is this a common love affair?” cried out Count Szolnak. “Are high state matters to be made dependent on the whim of a foolish child? Yes, highness, a foolish child ! Would you sacrifice a throne for yourself and plunge your country into a bloody war because his highness had taken a drop too much wine? Enough of this ! It is your duty to marry the duke.”

“I will not,” she reiterated, her face whiter and whiter, and her eyes constantly seeking Talbot’s. As for him, he felt his powerlessness, but sat there ready at any moment to make the best fight he could.

“Monseigneur,” cried Count Szolnak, “you came here to unite these two and thereby serve our beloved Hungary. I beg you to do it.”

“Princess,” said the prelate sternly, “I cannot believe you will hold out against the wishes of the statesmen of the country and refuse to do that which will bring us peace in spite of the war now raging and spare us the more horrible conflict among ourselves.”

“Oh, Sir Chester, help me !” she wailed.

He rose, and went over and stood beside her. “I am a stranger here from another land,” he said, “but her high-

ness has chosen me to protect her from the evils which threaten her.”

“If you are wise you will not meddle with what does not concern you, Herr Talbot,” cried Count Szolnak.

“It concerns me when the princess asks my help. You, who think her so important now, did not raise a hand to save her when Prince Szchymsl carried her off. You feared him, and you feared the Countess Elsa. 1 feared neither of them, nor their power any more than I fear you and your power now. You would sacrifice her to that brute of a man who will not keep sober even when he is looking forward to such a bride. What sort of life are you dooming this delicate creature to? Shame on you !”

The nobles stared aghast at this arraignment of them; the archbishop moistened his lips and looked at the speaker in shocked amazement ; but into the brain of the swaying duke, stupid with alcohol, there must have flashed a consciousness of what Talbot was saying, for without a word or gesture of warning he suddenly leaped to his feet and hurled himself at Talbot.

Talbot saw, and acted. He stepped forward slightly, and shot out his right fist. The duke, caught on the point of the jaw, fell back on the thick rug, senseless.

A cry of rage and horror broke from the others. Some of them sprang to help the duke, some of them looked as if minded to leap on Talbot; one of them glided to the table and pressed an electric button.

The princess had thrown herself into the arms of her champion, and he had held her for a moment close to him, soothing her terror. Then he disengaged his right arm and found his revolver.

What to do he didn’t know. He was thinking of going to the door and trying to escape from the house. It seemed so hopeless that he was hardly disappointed when the door opened and a footman appeared.

“A squad of soldiers quickly !” commanded the noble who had touched the button.

A long-drawn sigh of relief and triumph came from the men in the room. That was the way to deal with this preposterous interloper.

Talbot considered the door again. This was the most desperate case they had yet been in. If they tried to escape through the salon these men would set up such an outcry that their way would inevitably be blocked, and it was useless to think of using his revolver. He might threaten with it, but there would always be the soldiers to reckon with.

There remained the windows of the room. How high were they from the ground outside ? Was there a moat ?

“Come, Sonia !” he said to her, drawing her toward one of the windows. She followed him willingly, frightened but confident that her splendid knight would find a way out of the trouble.

But he felt more and more doubtful. How could he take her out into the cold in that scant dress? How could he usk her to walk the rough ways in those dainty satin slippers?

Then he remembered that there would surely be horses in plenty, and heavy coals of one kind and another. If only he could get out and hold these men at bay! 1

“Watch them, and tell me if they come near, Sonia,” he whispered, and began to work at the fastenings of the window. The curtains he had flung aside.

It was a French window, opening to the floor. The fastenings were of the familiar French kind, and were soon undone. The window opened. Talbot looked back at the men. No one there was making any effort to hold him, and on the faces of some he saw a sardonic smile.

When he leaned out, he understood ;

there was a black void there. He would have ventured for himself, but he could not ask her to take such a risk. If only he had had his rope with him ! But he hadn’t.

He turned back to the room. The duke was still unconscious, but showing signs of life. Two of the nobles had gone to the door and were waiting there.

He looked at Sonia. She stood there, trembling, but trustful as a child. She looked into his eyes and tried to smile.

“Brave little Sonia!” he murmured. “I am going to fail you at last.”

“We cannot escape that way?” she asked.

“It is very high.”

He was scanning the room, looking for a suggestion ; time was flying, and the soldiers might come at any time. Suddenly he remembered how he had used the Countess Elsa, and in half a dozen leaps he was by the side of the duke.

He tossed the nobles aside as if they had been children, and, just as the door opened to admit the soldiers, he picked up the heavy body of the duke and ran with it to a corner of the room.

The princess had followed him at every step, and now was close by his side. He put her behind him, and, holding the body of the duke before him as a shield, cried out to the dumfounded men : “I will kill the duke if you force me to it.”

The soldiers filed into the room, looking in amazement at the man at bay in the corner. The officer waited for orders. Through the now open door of the salon the curious throng of guests could be seen peering into the room.

The nobles, conscious of the absurd position they had been put in by this maneuver of Talbot’s, consulted together for a moment. v

“Wait outside,” said Szolnak to the officer; “and close the door.”

The squad of soldiers filed impassively out again. Szolnak turned to Talbot, and studied his stern face.

“Well,” he said, “what do you expect to gain by this?”

“Freedom or death,” was the calm response. “Freedom under guarantee for the princess and me, or death to the duke and as many more as my revolver will account for. And I am in the habit of making every bullet tell.”

“My dear man.” exclaimed the archbishop in a lone of remonstrance, “you are acting in a very high-handed manner. You come here a perfect stranger and interfere with the operations of a whole government. Why not take your friends and leave us to deal with our problems ourselves? You would be wiser.”

“The only tiling that concerns me is the welfare of the princess,” answered Talbot. “She doesn’t wish to marry the duke, nor does she wish to sit on the throne; so it is you who are unreasonable in trying to force her to do so.”

“And if we agreed to your outrageous term?, what must be done?” asked Szolnak. “What will you do? What do you expect of us?”

“I wish to go free from this place with the princess; I wish a pair of horses to ride, my clothes, and the clothes and wraps of the princess, and your oaths not to molest us.”

Szolnak turned to the others and talked with them in low tones ; then turned to Talbot again. “What will you do with the duke?”

“Let him lie on the floor. I wish him no harm.”‘

“Very well; if the princess will assure us once more that she really refuses to succor her bleeding country, we will agree to your terms. How is it, highness? Do you desert us now? Are you without regard for your country? You have no gratitude to us who have done so much for you?”

The princess, her courage quite restored by this new victory of her cham5

pion over such overwhelming odds, stepped out from behind Talbot and answered firmly:

“This is not my country, as you very well know. I am a Bosnian far more than a Hungarian. You have done nothing for me, but on the contrary have done much to injure me by dragging me from my happy obscurity to compel me to marry a man I loathe, and to fill a position I have no fitness for. I am not deserting you when J go back to my home.”

“So be it !” Szolnak turned to his companions. “We must do without he: then. Get the clothes of these two. and have two horses saddled.” He indicated the ones he would have execute the errands, and the nobles set out at once.

Talbot dtyly interposed : “You might let the archbishop administer the oath to these gentlemen before they leave the room. Xot that I suspect you of contemplating anything dishonorable, but it is just as well to have them included in the oath.”

The nobles stood together before the archbishop, who, after a few moments of reflection, voiced the following words, which were repeated after him by the others :

“We nobles of Hungary, individually and collectively, do hereby take solemn oath before Almighty God that we will take no step to prevent the departure from this castle of the Princess Sonia Kotorska and Herr Talbot, an American gentleman; that we will furnish two properly equipped horses for them and restore their clothing; that we will take no steps to have them intercepted outside of these grounds.”

They all took this oath and crossed themselves. Talbot at once carried the duke nearer the table, and placed him on the rug, then returned to the princess. The two nobles left the room to have the horses made ready and to get the clothing.
“l hope you will let us wear what we have on for the time being,” Talbot said. “We will return everything later.”

“You may keep them, or give them away,” Szolnak said indifferently.

The door of the room had been left open again, and Talbot could see that the soldiers had been sent away. Everything seemed to be done in good faith, but he had an uneasy feeling that all was not well yet.

“How splendid you are, Sir Chester!” the princess murmured. “You are greater than an army. You always succeed.”

“Wait, little Sonia,” he answered; “we are not away yet.”

His suspicions seemed to be rebuked, however, when the clothes were brought in bundles suitable for carrying on horseback, themselves covered by their outer clothing, and the way out through the salon left open to them.

Talbot had slipped his revolver in his coat pocket, and held it there ready for use. The guests, who had welcomed them so heartily early in the evening, now watched them in silent wonder as they passed through the salon, the princess clinging to his ami.

On the driveway in front of the great doors stood two horses, ready saddled. Talbot lifted the princess into her saddle, and then put his foot in his own stirrup. At that instant he was surrounded, dragged back, and, in spite of his furious struggles, securely bound.

The princess was lifted from her horse and carried into the house, too -tupefied to utter a sound after one cry of dismay at the sight of her champion rendered helpless.

Both of them were taken back into the room of the conference, and the door shut. The princess was seated in a chair, but no restraint was put upon her. Talbot was also placed in a chair, but he was left securely bound.