It was a drowsy day, and, besides, Baldos was not in a communicative

frame of mind. Beverly put forth her best efforts during the forenoon,

but after the basket luncheon had been disposed of in the shade at the

roadside, she was content to give up the struggle and surrender to the

soothing importunities of the coach as it bowled along. She dozed

peacefully, conscious to the last that he was a most ungracious creature

and more worthy of resentment than of benefaction. Baldos was not

intentionally disagreeable; he was morose and unhappy because he could

not help it. Was he not leaving his friends to wander alone in the

wilderness while he drifted weakly into the comforts and pleasures of an

enviable service? His heart was not in full sympathy with the present

turn of affairs, and he could not deny that a selfish motive was

responsible for his action. He had the all too human eagerness to serve

beauty; the blood and fire of youth were strong in this wayward nobleman

of the hills.

Lying back in the seat, he pensively studied the face of the sleeping

girl whose dark-brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of

the coach. Her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. The dark

lashes fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry gray

that had overcome his apprehensions. Her breathing was deep and regular

and peaceful. One little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the

other upon her breast near the delicate throat. The heart of Baldos was

troubled. The picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting; he rose

from the lowly state in which she had found him to the position of

admirer in secret to a princess, real or assumed. He found himself again

wondering if she were really Yetive, and with that fear in his heart he

was envying Grenfall Lorry, the lord and master of this exquisite

creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted

at birth.

The note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in Ganlook lay

crumpled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped it

the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message

contained information which had been forgotten by Franz, and was by no

means of a nature to demand immediate attention. Had he read it at once

his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that

he would have refused to enter the city.

Late in the afternoon the walls of Edelweiss were sighted. For the first

time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of

Graustark. Up in the clouds, on the summit of the mountain peak

overlooking the city, stood the famed monastery of Saint

Valentine. Stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens,

accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. Beverly was awake and

impatient to reach the journey's end. He had proved a most disappointing

companion, polite, but with a baffling indifference that irritated her

considerably. There was a set expression of defiance in his strong,

clean-cut face, the look of a soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe.




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