Truxton King

Truxton King witnessed the review of the garrison. That in itself was rather a tame exhibition for a man who had seen the finest troops in all the world. A thousand earnest looking soldiers, proud of the opportunity to march before the little Prince--and that was all, so far as the review was concerned.

But, alluringly provident to the welfare of this narrative, the red and black uniformed soldiers were not the only persons on review that balmy day in July. Truxton King had his first glimpse of the nobility of Graustark. He changed his mind about going to Vienna on the Saturday express. A goodly number of men before him had altered their humble plans for the same reason, I am reliably informed.

Mr. King saw the court in all its glory, scattered along the shady Castle Avenue--in carriages, in traps, in motors and in the saddle. His brain whirled and his heart leaped under the pressure of a new-found interest in life. The unexpected oasis loomed up before his eyes just as he was abandoning all hope in the unprofitable desert of Romance. He saw green trees and sparkling rivulets, and he sighed with a new, strange content. No, on second thoughts, he would not go to Vienna. He would stay in Edelweiss. He was a disciple of Micawber; and he was so much younger and fresher than that distinguished gentleman, that perhaps he was justified in believing that, in his case, something was bound to "turn up."

If Truxton King had given up in disgust and fled to Vienna, this tale would never have come to light. Instead of being the lively narrative of a young gentleman's adventures in far-away Graustark, it might have become a tale of the smart set in New York--for, as you know, we are bound by tradition to follow the trail laid down by our hero, no matter which way he elects to fare. Somewhat dismayed by his narrow escape, he confided to his friend from Cook's that he could never have forgiven himself if he had adhered to his resolution to leave on the following day.

"I didn't know you'd changed your mind, sir," remarked Mr. Hobbs in surprise.

"Of course you didn't know it," said Truxton. "How could you? I've just changed it, this instant. I didn't know it myself two minutes ago. No, sir, Hobbs--or is it Dobbs? Thanks--no, sir, I'm going to stop here for a--well, a week or two. Where the dickens do these people keep themselves? I haven't seen 'em before."

"Oh, they are the nobility--the swells. They don't hang around the streets like tourists and rubbernecks, sir," in plain disgust.