"Monsieur," came from behind the veil, "you may go now.Idismiss you.If I have need of you I promise to send for you."He stood up."I thank you for the entertainment and the promise you extend.I shall be easily found," committing himself to nothing."I suppose you are a person of importance in affairs.""It is not unlikely.I see that you love adventure for its own sake, for you have not asked me if it be the duchy or the kingdom.Adieu, Monsieur," with a careless wave of the gray-gloved hand."Adieu!"
He took his dismissal heroically and shot a final glance at the approaching soldier.His brows came together.
"Where," he murmured, "have I seen that picturesque countenance before? Not in Europe; but where?" He caught the arm of a passing gendarme."Who is that gentleman in fatigue uniform, coming this way?""That, Monsieur," answered the gendarme in tones not unmixed with awe, "is Colonel Beauvais of the royal cuirassiers.""Thanks....Beauvais; I do not remember the name.Truly Ihave had experiences to-day.And for what house is Mademoiselle of the Veil? Ravens? War? `Voici le sabre de mon pyre!'" and with a gay laugh he went his way.
Meanwhile Colonel Beauvais arrived at the table, tipped his hat to the Veil, who rose and laid a hand on his arm.He guided her through the pressing crowds.
"Ah, Madame," he said, "you are very brave to choose such a rendezvous.""Danger is a tonic to the ill-spirited," was the reply.
"If aught should happen to you--"
"It was in accord with her wishes that I am here.She suffers from impatience; and I would risk much to satisfy her whims.""So would I, Madame; even life." There was a tremor of passion in his voice, but she appeared not to notice it."Here is a nook out of the lights; we may talk here with safety.""And what is the news?" she asked.
"This: The man remains still in obscurity.But he shall be found.
Listen," and his voice fell into a whisper.
"Austria?" Mademoiselle of the Veil pressed her hands together in excitement."Is it true?""Did I not promise you? It is so true that the end is in sight.
Conspiracy is talked openly in the streets, in the cafes, everywhere.The Osians will be sand in the face of a tidal wave.
A word from me, and Kronau follows it.It all would be so easy were it not for the archbishop.""The archbishop?" contemptuously.
"Ay, Madame; he is a man so deep, with a mind so abyssmal, that I would give ten years of my life for a flash of his thoughts.
He has some project; apparently he gives his whole time to the king.He loves this weak man Leopold; he has sacrificed the red hat for him, for the hat would have taken him to Italy, as we who procured it intended it should.""The archbishop? Trust me; one month from now he will be recalled.That is the news I have for you.""You have taken a weight from my mind.What do you think in regard to the rumor of the prince and the peasant girl?""It afforded me much amusement.You are a man of fine inventions.""Gaze toward the upper end of the pavilion, the end which we have just left.Yes--there.I am having the owner of those broad shoulders watched.That gendarme leaning against the pillar follows him wherever he goes.""Who is he?"
"That I am trying to ascertain.This much-- he is an Englishman."Mademoiselle of the Veil laughed."Pardon my irrelevancy, but the remembrance of a recent adventure of mine was too strong."Maurice could not regain his interest in the scene.He strolled in and out of the moving groups, but no bright eyes or winning smiles allured him.Impelled by curiosity, he began to draw near the shadowed nook.Curiosity in a journalist is innate, and time nor change can efface it.Curiosity in those things which do not concern us is wrong.Ethics disavows the practice, though philosophy sustains it.Perhaps in this instance Maurice was philosophical, not ethical.Perhaps he wanted to hear the woman's voice again, which was excusable.Perhaps it was neither the one nor the other, but fate, which directed his footsteps.
Certain it is that the subsequent adventures would never have happened had he gone about his business, as he should have done.
"Who is this who stares at us?" asked Beauvais, with a piercing glance and a startled movement of his shoulders.
"A disciple of Pallas and a pupil of Mars," was the answer."Ihave been recruiting, Colonel.There is sharpness sometimes in new blades.Do not draw him with your eyes."The Colonel continued his scrutiny, however, and there was an ugly droop at the corners of his mouth, though it was partly hidden under his mustache.
Maurice, aware that he was not wanted, passed along, having in mind to regain his former seat by the railing.
"Colonel," he mused, "your face grows more familiar every moment.
It was not associated with agreeable things.But, what were they? Hang it! you shall have a place in my thoughts till I have successfully labeled you.Humph! Some one seems to have appropriated my seat."He viewed with indecision the broad back of the interloper, who at that moment turned his head.At the sight of that bronzed profile Maurice gave an exclamation of surprise and delight.He stepped forward and dropped his hand on the stranger's shoulder.
"John Fitzgerald, or henceforth garlic shall be my salad!" he cried in loud, exultant tones.
