CHAPTER VIII
COUNT KARL
Colonel Katona's impatience mounted fast; and when he again insisted inan even more violent tone that I should tell him all I knew, I had tofall back upon a woman's second line of defence. I became hysterical.
I gurgled and sobbed, choked and gasped, laughed and wept in regulationstyle; and then, to his infinite confusion and undoing, I fainted. Atleast I fell back in my chair seemingly unconscious, and should havefallen on the floor, I believe in thoroughness, had he not caught me inhis rough, powerful arms and laid me on a sofa.
I can recall to this day the fusty, mouldy smell of that couch as I laythere, while he made such clumsy, crude efforts as suggested themselvesto him as the proper remedies to apply. He chafed and slapped myhands, without thinking to take off my gloves; he called for cold waterwhich the soldier servant brought in, and bathed my face; lastly hetold the man to bring some brandy, and in trying to force it between myteeth, which I clenched firmly, he spilt it and swore at his ownclumsiness.
Then, fearing he would try again and send me out reeking like a saloonbar, I opened my eyes, rolled them about wildly, began to sob again,sat up, rambled incoherently and asked in the most approved fashionwhere I was.
I took a sufficiently long time to come round, and was almost ashamedof my deceit when I saw how really anxious and self-reproachful he was.But I had forged an effective weapon; and had only to show theslightest disposition to "go off" again, to make him abjectlyapologetic.
I always maintain that a woman has many more weapons than a man. Hecan at best cheat or bribe; while a woman can do all three, and inaddition can wheedle and weep and, at need, even faint.
It was a long time before I consented to talk coherently; and duringthe incoherent interval I managed to introduce my father's name.
"I am getting better. Oh, how silly you must think me," I murmured.
"It was my fault. I was too violent," he said. "I am not used toyoung ladies."
"Oh dear, oh dear, I am so ashamed. But she told me you were a veryviolent man. I wish I hadn't come."
"Who told you? Gareth?"
"No, no. In America. Miss von Dreschler. Oh, what have I said?" Icried, as he started in amazement. "Oh, don't look so cross. I didn'tknow you'd be so angry;" and I began to gasp, spasmodically.
"I am not angry," he said, quickly. "What name did you say?"
"That horrible girl with the red hair. I don't suppose you've everseen her, in America. She said you were a villain and had been herfather's friend; Colonel von Dreschler, he was. She said you'd killme. But I'm sure you're kind and good, or dear Gareth would never beyour daughter. She said horrible things of you. That you'd ruined herfather and imprisoned him; and much more. But of course she would sayanything. She was jealous of my friendship with Gareth, and redhaired. And I don't know what I'm saying, but she was really a wickedgirl. And, oh dear, if it's true, I wish I hadn't come. Give me somewater please, or I know I shall go off again."
I gabbled all this out in a jerky, breathless way, pausing only topunctuate it with inane giggles and glances of alarm; and at the endmade as if I were going to faint.
Had I been in reality the giggling idiot I pretended, I might well havefainted at the expression which crossed his stern, sombre face. At themention of my father and his imprisonment, he caught his breath andstarted back so violently that he stumbled against a chair behind himand upset it; and only with the greatest effort could he restrainhimself from interrupting me.
He was trembling with anger as he handed me the water I asked for; andwhen he had put down the glass, he placed a chair and sat close to me.
"Do you mean that Colonel von Dreschler's daughter knows Gareth?"
"Oh, yes, of course."
"Mother of Heaven, I see it now," he murmured into his tangled beard."It is he who has taken her away. What do you know of this?"
"Oh, Colonel Katona, what on earth could he want to do that for?Besides, how could he?" I cried, with an empty simper.
"You don't understand, Miss Gilmore. Can you tell me where to findthis girl--Miss von Dreschler."
"Oh yes. In Jefferson City, Missouri. I come from there. It's a longway off, of course; but it's just the loveliest town and well worth avisit;" and I was babbling on when he put up his hand and stopped me.
"Peace, please. And do you know Colonel von Dreschler?"
"Lor', how could I? He's been dead ever so long. Two years and more,that horrid little red-haired thing said. But of course she may havebeen fibbing."
He stared down at me as if to read the thoughts in my brain; his lookfull charged with renewed suspicion. But I was giggling and trying toput my hat straight; and with a sigh he tossed up his hand and rose.
"I can't understand you," he said. "Can you tell me anything aboutGareth, when you saw her last?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. I have such a silly memory. It must be quitesix months ago--yes, because, I had this hat new; and I've had it quitesix months."
"Where was it?" he asked, growing keener again.
"Karlsbad; no, Marienbad; no, Tyrnau; no, Vienna; I can't rememberwhere it was, but I have it down in my diary. I could let you know."
"Did she--she speak of me?"
"Oh yes. She said she was happy and would have been quite happy ifonly she could have let you know where she was."
"Why couldn't she?"
"I suppose he wouldn't let her; but I'm sure----"
"What he? For heaven's sake, try to speak plainly, Miss Gilmore. Doyou mean she was with any one?"
"I don't know. I only know what we thought. Oh, don't look like thator I can't say any more."
His eyes flashed fire again. "Tell me, please," he murmuredrestraining himself.
"We thought she had run away with him." I said that seriously enough.
He paused, nerving himself for the next question. It came in a low,tense, husky voice. "Do you mean she was--married?"
I hung my head and was silent.
"'Fore God, if any one, man or woman dares to hint shame of mychild----" he burst out, and stopped abruptly.
It was time to be serious again, I felt, as I answered, "I love Garethdearly, and would say no shame of her. If I can help you to find herand learn the truth, will you have my help?"
"Help me, and all I have in the world shall be yours. And if any onehas wronged her, may I burn in hell if I do not make his life thepenalty." The vehement, concentrated earnestness of the oath filled mewith genuine awe.
A tense pause followed, and then, recovering myself, I began to displayanew my symptoms of hysterics. This time I was not going to get wellenough to be able to speak of the matter farther; and I declared I mustgo away.
I was going to play a dangerous card; and when he asked me when heshould see me again, I told him that if he would come that afternoon tome--I gave him Madame d'Artelle's address--I would tell him all I could.
I went away well satisfied with the result of my visit; and thenplanned my next step. It was to be a bold one; but the crisis calledfor daring; and if I was to win, I must force the moves from my side.
I walked back, glad of the exercise and the fresh air, and as I waspassing through the Stadtwalchen, busily occupied with my thoughts, Imet Count Karl. He was riding with an attendant and his look chancedto be in my direction. He stared as if trying to recollect me, then hebowed. I responded, but he passed on; and I concluded he had notplaced my features in his muddled memory. But a minute later I heard ahorse cantering after me; and he pulled up, dismounted, and held outhis hand.
"You are Madame d'Artelle's friend, Miss Gilmore?"
"Yes," I said, scarce knowing whether to be glad or sorry he had comeafter me.
"May I walk a few steps with you?"
"Certainly, if you wish."
"Take the horses home," he said as he gave the reins to the servant."I have been wishing to speak to you alone, Miss Gilmore. Shall wewalk here?" and we turned into a
side path at the end of which somenursemaids and children were gathered about the fountains.
He did not speak again for some moments, but kept staring at me with adirectness which, considering all things, I found embarrassing.
"Would you mind sitting down here?" he asked, as we reached a seatnearly hidden by the shrubbery.
"Not in the least," I agreed; and down we sat.
"You will think this very singular of me," he declared after a pause.
"One person could not very well be plural," I said inanely; and hefrowned at the irrelevant flippancy. "I am a student you know, andtherefore appreciate grammatical accuracy."
"I wish to ask you some questions, if I may."
"They appear to be very difficult to frame. You may ask what youplease."
"I wish you would smile," he said, so unexpectedly that I did smile."It is perfectly marvellous," he exclaimed with a start.
I knew what that meant. In the old days he had talked a lot ofnonsense about my smile.
"If I smile it is not at the waste of your life and its opportunities,Count Karl," I ventured.
"Opportunities!" he repeated with a laugh. "I have seized this one atany rate. I have been thinking about you ever since I saw you two daysago at Madame d'Artelle's."
"Why?" I asked pointedly.
"That is a challenge. I'll take it up. Because your name isChristabel. Is it really Christabel?"
"My name seems to cause considerable umbrage," I said, with a touch ofoffence. "Two days ago your brother not only doubted the Christabel,but wished to give me a fresh surname as well, von Decker or Discher,or Dreschler, or something."
He frowned again. "Gustav is a good fellow, but he should hold histongue. You're so like her, you see, and yet so unlike, that----" hefinished the sentence with a cut of his riding whip on his gaiters.
"I am quite content to be myself, thank you," I declared with a touchof coldness.
"Your voice, too. It's perfectly marvellous."
"May I ask what all this means?" I put the question very stiffly.
"Chiefly that I'm an idiot, I think. But I don't care. I'm long pastcaring. Life's only rot, is it?"
"Not for those who use it properly. It might be a glorious thing for aman in your position and with your future."
"Ah, you're young, you see, Miss Gilmore," he exclaimed, with theself-satisfaction of a cynic. "I suppose I thought so once, butthere's nothing in it."
"There's opium," I rapped out so sharply that he gave a start andglanced at me. Then he smiled, heavily.
"Oh, you've found that out, eh; or somebody has told you? Yes, I can'tlive without it now, and I don't want to try. What does it matter?"and he jerked his shoulders with a don't-care gesture.
"I should be ashamed to say that."
"I suppose you would. I suppose you would. I should have been, at onetime, when I first began; but not now. Besides, it suits everybody allright. You see, you don't understand."
"I have no intention of trying it."
"No, don't. It's only hell a bit before one's time. But I didn't stopyou to talk about this. I don't quite know why I did stop you now;"and he ran his hand across his forehead as if striving to remember.
A painful gesture, almost pathetic and intensely suggestive.
"I suppose it was just a wish to speak to you, that's all," he said atlength, wearily. "Oh, I know. You reminded me so much of--of anotherChristabel of the name you mentioned, Christabel von Dreschler, that Iwondered if you could be any relation. You _are_ an American, are younot?"
"Yes. But that is not an American name."
"But she was American. I knew her in New York years ago. Lord, whatlong years ago. You are not a relation of hers?"
"I have no relative of that name, Count Karl."
"I wish you had been one."
"Why?"
"That's just what I've been asking myself these two days. It wouldn'thave been any good, would it? And yet--" he sighed--"yet I think Ishould have been drawn to speak pretty freely to you."
"About what?"
He turned at the pointed question and looked quizzically at me. "Iwonder. You're so like her, you see."
"Were you in love with her, then?"
He started resentfully at the thrust. Coming from me it must havesounded very much like impertinence.
"Miss Gilmore, I----" then he smiled in his feeble, nothing-mattersmanner. "Of course that's a question I can't answer, and you oughtn'tto ask. But life's much too stupid for one to take offence when itisn't meant. And I don't suppose you meant any, did you?"
"No, on the contrary. I should very much like to be your friend," Isaid, very earnestly.
"Would you? I daresay you would. Lots of people would like to be thefriend of the Duke Ladislas' eldest son. If they only knew! Whathumbug it all is."
"I am not a humbug," I protested.
"I daresay you have a motive in that clever little brain of yours. Noclever people do anything without one, and they both agree you'reclever and sharp. I wonder what it is. Tell me."
"'They both?'" I repeated, catching at his words.
His face clouded with passing doubt and then cleared as he understood."I'm getting stupid again; but you don't get stupid. You know whatHenriette and Gustav are in my life. You've spotted it, of course. Itsaves a heap of trouble to have some one to think for you. You mayn'tbelieve it--you like to think for yourself; but it does, a regular heapof bother. And after all, the chief thing in life is to dodge trouble,isn't it?"
"No." I said it with so much energy that he laughed.
"That's only your point of view. You're American, you see. But I'mright. I hate taking trouble. Of course I know things. They think Idon't, but I do. And I don't care."
"What things do you know?"
He stopped hitting his boots with his whip and looked round at me,paused, and then shook his head slowly. "You don't understand, and itwouldn't do you any good if you did."
But I did understand and drove the spur in. "I don't understand onething--why the elder son should think his chief object in life is tomake way for the younger brother."
He leant back on the seat and laughed. "They're right. You have acute little head and no mistake. That's just it. I'm not surprisedGustav warned me against you. But he needn't. I shouldn't let youworry me into things. I'm glad I spoke to you, though. You've got oldfox Erlanger round that little finger of yours, too, haven't you?"
"I was governess to General von Erlanger's daughter."
"And played chess with the old boy. I know;" and he laughed again."And he sent you to look after Henriette, eh?"
"No. I knew Madame d'Artelle in Paris, years ago; and I went to herthinking her influence would help me."
"Did you? I'm not asking. But if you did, you can't be so clever asthey think. She hasn't any influence with any one but me--and I don'tcount. I never shall either."
"Whose fault is that but your own?"
"I don't want to. I don't care. If I did care, of course----" Themomentary gleam of energy died out in another weary look and wave ofthe hand. He waited and then asked. "But won't you tell me thatmotive of yours, for wanting to be my friend, you know?"
"I did not say I had one."
"I hoped you might want me to do something for you."
"Why?"
"Because you might do something for me in return."
"I'll promise to do that in any case."
"Ah, they all say that. The world's full of unselfish people willingto do things for a Duke's son," he said, lazily.
"What is it you wish me to do?"
"You have friends in America, of course?"
"Yes."
"Do you think they could find that other girl--the one you're like,Christabel von Dreschler?"
"Yes, I've no doubt they could."
"Well, I'd like to hear of her again."
"Would you like her to know what your life is and what you have become
?"
That made him wince.
"By God, that hurts!" he muttered, and he leant back, put his hand tohis eyes, and sat hunched up in silence. Presently he sighed. "You'reright. I'm only a fool, am I?"
"If she cared for you, it might have hurt _her_ to know," I said.
"Don't, please. You make me think; and I don't want to think."
"If she loved you then, she would scarcely love you now."
"Don't, I say, don't," he cried, with sudden vehemence. "You are solike her that to hear this from you is almost as if----I beg yourpardon. But for a moment I believe I was almost fool enough to feelsomething. No, no; don't write or do any other silly thing of thesort. It doesn't matter;" and he tossed up his hands helplessly.
We sat for a few moments without speaking, and presently he began tofumble in his pocket. He glanced at me rather shamefacedly, and thenwith an air of bravado took out a phial of morphia pills.
"Since you know, it doesn't matter," he said, half-apologetically.
"It does matter very much," I declared, earnestly.
He held the little bottle making ready to open it, and met my eyes."Why?"
"Would you take it if she were here?"
"I don't know;" and he heaved a deep sigh.
"Think that she is here, and then you daren't take it."
He laughed. "Daren't I?" and he partly unscrewed the cap.
I put my hand on his arm. "For her sake," I said.
"It means hours of hell to me if I don't."
"It means a life of hell if you do."
"I must."
"For her sake," I pleaded again, and held out my hand for the phial.
"You would torture me?"
"Yes, for your good."
The struggle in him was acute and searching. "It's no good; I can't,"he murmured, his gaze on the phial.
I summoned all the will power at my command and forced him to meet myeyes. "For her sake; as if she were here; give it me," I said.
"I shall hate you if you make me."
"For her sake," I repeated. We looked each into the other's eyes,until I had conquered.
"I suppose I must," he murmured with a sigh; and let the little bottlefall into my hand. I threw it down and ground it and the pellets topowder with my heel. He watched me with a curious smile. "How savageyou are. As if you thought that could finish it."
"No. It is only the beginning--but a good beginning."
He got up. "We'd better go now, before I begin to hate you."
"You will think of this and of her when the next temptation comes."
"Oh, it will come right enough; and I shan't resist it. I can't.Good-bye. I like you yet. I--I wish I'd known you before."
And with that and a sigh and a smile, he lifted his hat and left me.