The Princess Elopes

There was very little light in the compartment into which Max had so

successfully dived. Some one had turned down the wicks of the oil

lamps which hung suspended between the luggage-racks above, and the

gloom was notable rather than subdued. So far as he was concerned he

was perfectly contented; his security was all the greater. He pressed

his face against the window and peered out. The lights of the city

flashed by, and finally grew few and far between, and then came the

blackness of the country. It would take an hour and a half to cross

the frontier, and there would be no stop this side, for which he was

grateful. He swore, mumbling. To have come all this way to study, and

then to leg it in this ignominious fashion! It was downright

scandalous! Whoever heard of such laws? Of course he had been rather

silly in pulling his gun, for even in the United States--where he

devoutly wished himself at that moment--it was a misdemeanor to carry

concealed weapons. He felt of his cheek. He would return some day,

and if it was the last thing he ever did, he would slash that

lieutenant's cheeks. The insolent beggar! To be struck and not to

strike back! He choked.

Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he cast

about.

"The deuce!" he muttered.

He was not alone. Huddled in the far corner was a woman heavily

veiled. Young or old, he could not tell. She sat motionless, and

appeared to be looking out of the opposite window. Well, so long as

she did not bother him he would not bother her. But he would much

rather have been alone.

He took out his passport and tried to read it. It was impossible. So

he rose, steadied himself, and turned up the wick of one of the lamps.

He did not hear the muffled exclamation which came from the other end.

He dropped back upon the cushion and began to read. So he was George

Ellis, an American student in good standing; he was aged twenty-nine,

had blue eyes, light hair, was six feet tall, and weighed one hundred

and fifty-four pounds. Ha! he had, then, lost thirty pounds in as many

minutes? At this rate he wouldn't cast a shadow when he struck

Dresden. He had studied three years at the college; but what the deuce

had he studied? If they were only asleep at the frontier! He returned

the document to his pocket, and as he did so his fingers came into

contact with the purse he had picked up in the road that

morning--Hildegarde von Heideloff. What meant Fate in crossing _her_

path with his? He had been perfectly contented in mind and heart

before that first morning ride; and here he was, sighing like a

furnace. She had been merely pretty on Monday, on Tuesday she had been

handsome, on Wednesday she had been adorable; now she was the most

beautiful woman that ever lived. (Ah, the progressive adjective, that

litany of love!) Alas! it was quite evident that she had passed out of

his life as suddenly and mysteriously as she had entered it. He would

keep the purse as a souvenir, and some day, when he was an old man, he

would open it.