Arms and the Woman

"How long have you been here?" asked Pembroke.

"Two weeks, Your Highness." Doubtless he thought us to be high

personages to be inquiring for the Princess.

"Is Stahlberg here?" I asked.

"He is visiting relatives in Coberg," was the answer.

"Do you know where Her Highness is?"

"No." It occurred to me that his voice had taken to sullen tones.

"When will the innkeeper be back?"

The fellow shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot say, Your Highness. The

inn is not open for guests till March."

"Jack," said Pembroke in English, "it is evident that this fellow has

been instructed to be close-lipped. Let us return to the village. The

castle is left." He threw some coins to the servant and they rattled

along the porch. "Come." And we wheeled and trotted away.

I cannot tell how great was my disappointment, nor what I did or said.

The ride back to the village was a dreary affair so far as conversation

went. At the castle we found not a soul.

"It is as I expected," said Pembroke. "Remember that Her Highness is

accustomed to luxury, and that it is not likely for her to spend her

winter in such a deserted place. You're a newspaper man; you ought to

be full of resources. Why don't you telegraph to all the news agencies

and make inquiries? She is a personage, and it will not be difficult

to find her if you go at it the right way."

I followed his advice, and the first return brought me news. Gretchen

was at present in Vienna. So we journeyed to Vienna, futilely. Then

commenced a dogged, persistent search. I dragged my cousin hither and

thither about the kingdom; from village to train, from train to city,

till his life became a burden to him and his patience threadbare. At

Hohenphalia, the capital, we were treated coldly; we were not known;

they were preparing the palace for the coronation of Her Serene

Highness the Princess Elizabeth; the Princess Hildegarde might be in

Brussels. At Brussels Her Highness was in Munich, at Munich she was in

Heidelberg, and so on and so on. It was truly discouraging. The

vaguest rumor brought me to the railway, Pembroke, laughing and

grumbling, always at my heels. At last I wrote to Phyllis; it was the

one hope left. Her reply was to the effect that she, too, did not know

where her sister was, that she was becoming a puzzle to her, and

concluded with the advice to wait till the coronation, when Gretchen

would put in appearance, her presence being imperative. So weeks

multiplied and became months, winter passed, the snows fell from the

mountains, the floods rose and subsided, summer was at hand with her

white boughs and green grasses. May was blooming into June. Still

Gretchen remained in obscurity. Sometimes in my despair I regretted

having loved her, and half resolved to return to Phyllis, where (and I

flushed at the thought!) I could find comfort and consolation. And

yet--and yet!