"My dear Carewe: I have a service to ask of you.The British minister is worried over the disappearance of a fellow-countryman, Lord Fitzgerald.He set out for Bleiberg, leaving instructions to look him up if nothing was heard of him within a week.Two weeks have gone.Knowing you to be in Bleiberg, Ibelieved you might take the trouble to look into the affair.The British ambassador hints at strange things, as if he feared foul play.I shall have urgent need of you by the first of October;our charge d'affaires is to return home on account of ill-health, and your appointment to that office is a matter of a few days."Maurice whistled."That is good news; not Haine's illness, but that I have an excuse to meddle here.I'll telegraph at once.
And I'll take the ride besides." He went to his room and buckled on his spurs, and thoughtfully slipped his revolver into a pocket."I am not going to take any chances, even in the dark."Once again in the office, he stepped up to the desk and ordered his horse to be brought around to the cafe entrance.
"Certainly," said the clerk.Then in low tones "There has been a curious exchange in saddles, Monsieur.""Saddles?"
"Yes.The saddle in your stall is, curiously enough, stamped with the arms of the house of Auersperg.How that military saddle came into the stables is more than the grooms can solve.""O," said Maurice, with an assumption of carelessness; "that is all right.It's the saddle I arrived on.The horse and saddle belong to Madame the duchess.I have been visiting at the Red Chateau.I shall return in the morning.""Ah," said the clerk, with a furtive smile which Maurice lost;"that accounts for the mystery."
"Here are two letters that must get in to-night's mails,"Maurice said; "and also this telegram should be sent at once.""As Monsieur desires.Ah, I came near forgetting.There is a note for Monsieur, which came this afternoon while Monsieur was asleep."The envelope was unstamped, and the scrawl was unfamiliar to Maurice.On opening it he was surprised to find a hurriedly written note from Fitzgerald.In all probability it had been brought by the midnight courier on his return from the duchy.
"In God's name, Maurice, why do you linger?
To-morrow morning those consols must be here or they will be useless.Hasten; you know what it means to me.
Fitzgerald."
Maurice perused it twice, and pulled at his lips."Madame becomes impatient.Poor devil.Somebody is likely to become suddenly rich and somebody correspondingly poor.What will they say when I return empty-handed? Like as not Madame will accuse me--and Fitzgerald will believe her!...The archbishop! That accounts for this bold move.And how the deuce did he get hold of them? I give up." And his shoulders settled in resignation.
He passed down into the cafe, from there to his horse, which a groom was holding at the curb.He swung into the saddle and tossed a coin to the man, who touched his cap.
The early moon lifted its silvery bulk above the ragged east, and the patches of clouds which swarmed over the face of that white world of silence resembled so many rooks.Far away, at the farthermost shore of the lake, whenever the moon went free from the clouds, Maurice could see the slim gray line of the road which stretched toward Italy.
"It's a fine night," he mused, glancing heavenward.The horse answered the touch of the spurs, and cantered away, glad enough to exchange the close air of the stables for this fresh gift of the night.Maurice guided him around the palaces into the avenue, which derived its name from the founder of the opera, in which most of the diplomatic families lived.Past the residence of Beauvais he went, and, gazing up at the lightless windows, a cold of short duration seized his spine.It bad been a hair's breadth betwixt him and death."Your room, Colonel, is better than you company; and hereafter I shall endeavor to avoid both.
I shall feel that cursed blade of yours for weeks to come."Carriages rolled past him.A gay throng in evening dress was crowding into the opera.The huge placard announced, "Norma--Mlle.Lenormand--Royal Opera Troupe." How he would have liked to hear it, with Lenormand in the title role.He laughed as he recalled the episodes in Vienna which were associated with this queen of song.He waved his hand as the opera house sank in the distance."Au revoir, Celeste, ma charmante; adieu." By and by he reached the deserted part of the city, and in less than a quarter of an hour branched off into the broad road bordering the lake.The horse quickened his gait as he felt the stone of the streets no longer beneath his feet, which now fell with muffled rhythm on the sound earth.Maurice shared with him the delight of the open country, and began to talk to the animal.
"A fine night, eh, old boy? I've ridden many backs, but none easier than yours.This air is what gives the blood its color.
Too bad; you ought not to belong to Madame.She will never think as much of you as I should."The city was falling away behind, and a yellow vapor rose over it.The lake tumbled in moonshine.Maurice took to dreaming again--hope and a thousand stars, love and a thousand dreams.
"God knows I love her; but what's the use? We can not all have what we want; let us make the best of what we have.Philosophy is a comfort only to old age.Why should youth bother to reason why? And I--I have not yet outgrown youth.I believed I had, but I have not.I did not dream she existed, and now she is more to me than anything else in the world.Why; I wonder why? I look into a pair of brown eyes, and am seized with madness.I hope.
