Part 4 (1/2)
”And did you notice that they all faced only one way?”
Carlton laughed, and nodded again. ”Towards Germany,” he said.
By the next day they had left the tall poplars and white roads behind them, and were crossing the land of low s.h.i.+ny black helmets and bra.s.s spikes. They had come into a country of low mountains and black forests, with old fortified castles topping the hills, and with red-roofed villages scattered around the base.
”How very military it all is!” Mrs. Downs said. ”Even the men at the lonely little stations in the forests wear uniforms; and do you notice how each of them rolls up his red flag and holds it like a sword, and salutes the train as it pa.s.ses?”
They spent the hour during which the train s.h.i.+fted from one station in Vienna to the other driving about in an open carriage, and stopped for a few moments in front of a cafe to drink beer and to feel solid earth under them again, returning to the train with a feeling which was almost that of getting back to their own rooms. Then they came to great steppes covered with long thick gra.s.s, and flooded in places with little lakes of broken ice; great horned cattle stood knee-deep in this gra.s.s, and at the villages and way-stations were people wearing sheepskin jackets and waistcoats covered with silver b.u.t.tons. In one place there was a wedding procession waiting for the train to pa.s.s, with the friends of the bride and groom in their best clothes, the women with silver breastplates, and boots to their knees. It seemed hardly possible that only two days before they had seen another wedding party in the Champs Elysees, where the men wore evening dress, and the women were bareheaded and with long trains. In forty-eight hours they had pa.s.sed through republics, princ.i.p.alities, empires, and kingdoms, and from spring to winter. It was like walking rapidly over a painted panorama of Europe.
On the second evening Carlton went off into the smoking-car alone. The Duke of Hohenwald and two of his friends had finished a late supper, and were seated in the apartment adjoining it. The Duke was a young man with a heavy beard and eyegla.s.ses. He was looking over an ill.u.s.trated catalogue of the Salon, and as Carlton dropped on the sofa opposite the Duke raised his head and looked at him curiously, and then turned over several pages of the catalogue and studied one of them, and then back at Carlton, as though he were comparing him with something on the page before him. Carlton was looking out at the night, but he could follow what was going forward, as it was reflected in the gla.s.s of the car window. He saw the Duke hand the catalogue to one of the equerries, who raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in a.s.sent.
Carlton wondered what this might mean, until he remembered that there was a portrait of himself by a French artist in the Salon, and concluded it had been reproduced in the catalogue. He could think of nothing else which would explain the interest the two men showed in him. On the morning following he sent Nolan out to purchase a catalogue at the first station at which they stopped, and found that his guess was a correct one. A portrait of himself had been reproduced in black and white, with his name below it.
”Well, they know who I am now,” he said to Miss Morris, ”even if they don't know me. That honor is still in store for them.”
”I wish they did not lock themselves up so tightly,” said Miss Morris.
”I want to see her very much. Cannot we walk up and down the platform at the next station? She may be at the window.”
”Of course,” said Carlton. ”You could have seen her at Buda-Pesth if you had spoken of it. She was walking up and down then. The next time the train stops we will prowl up and down and feast our eyes upon her.”
But Miss Morris had her wish gratified without that exertion. The Hohenwalds were served in the dining-car after the other pa.s.sengers had finished, and were in consequence only to be seen when they pa.s.sed by the doors of the other compartments. But this same morning, after luncheon, the three Princesses, instead of returning to their own car, seated themselves in the compartment adjoining the dining-car, while the men of their party lit their cigars and sat in a circle around them.
”I was wondering how long they could stand three men smoking in one of the boxes they call cars,” said Mrs. Downs. She was seated between Miss Morris and Carlton, directly opposite the Hohenwalds, and so near them that she had to speak in a whisper. To avoid doing this Miss Morris asked Carlton for a pencil, and scribbled with it in the novel she held on her lap. Then she pa.s.sed them both back to him, and said, aloud: ”Have you read this? It has such a pretty dedication.” The dedication read, ”Which is Aline?” And Carlton, taking the pencil in his turn, made a rapid sketch of her on the fly-leaf, and wrote beneath it: ”This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand miles to see her?”
Miss Morris took the book again, and glanced at the sketch, and then at the three Princesses, and nodded her head. ”It is very beautiful,” she said, gravely, looking out at the pa.s.sing landscape.
”Well, not beautiful exactly,” answered Carlton, surveying the hills critically, ”but certainly very attractive. It is worth travelling a long way to see, and I should think one would grow very fond of it.”
Miss Morris tore the fly-leaf out of the book, and slipped it between the pages. ”May I keep it?” she said. Carlton nodded. ”And will you sign it?” she asked, smiling. Carlton shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. ”If you wish it,” he answered.
The Princess wore a gray cheviot travelling dress, as did her sisters, and a gray Alpine hat. She was leaning back, talking to the English captain who accompanied them, and laughing. Carlton thought he had never seen a woman who appealed so strongly to every taste of which he was possessed. She seemed so sure of herself, so alert, and yet so gracious, so easily entertained, and yet, when she turned her eyes towards the strange, dismal landscape, so seriously intent upon its sad beauty. The English captain dropped his head, and with the pretence of pulling at his mustache, covered his mouth as he spoke to her. When he had finished he gazed consciously at the roof of the car, and she kept her eyes fixed steadily at the object towards which they had turned when he had ceased speaking, and then, after a decent pause, turned her eyes, as Carlton knew she would, towards him.
”He was telling her who I am,” he thought, ”and about the picture in the catalogue.”
In a few moments she turned to her sister and spoke to her, pointing out at something in the scenery, and the same pantomime was repeated, and again with the third sister.
”Did you see those girls talking about you, Mr. Carlton?” Miss Morris asked, after they had left the car.
Carlton said it looked as though they were.
”Of course they were,” said Miss Morris.
”That Englishman told the Princess Aline something about you, and then she told her sister, and she told the eldest one. It would be nice if they inherit their father's interest in painting, wouldn't it?”
”I would rather have it degenerate into an interest in painters myself,” said Carlton.
Miss Morris discovered, after she had returned to her own car, that she had left the novel where she had been sitting, and Carlton sent Nolan back for it. It had slipped to the floor, and the fly-leaf upon which Carlton had sketched the Princess Aline was lying face down beside it.
Nolan picked up the leaf, and saw the picture, and read the inscription below: ”This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand miles to see her?”
He handed the book to Miss Morris, and was backing out of the compartment, when she stopped him.