The Kingmakers

THERE was a moment’s stupefied silence, while the prince looked triumphantly at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering upon Selden an instant longer than upon the others, as though asking what he did there. His eyes were shining strangely, and there was something defiant in his face, something reckless in his air, as of a man who had started forth upon some desperate venture and burned his boats behind him.

“Come!” he said again, as Madame Ghita made no move.

“But I do not understand!” she protested.

“I have had enough of it!” said the prince, and he filled himself a glass of champagne and gulped it down. “I am treated as of no importance, as just a pawn in a game which does not interest me. I am told to do this, not to do that; to marry a woman for whom I care nothing—that would not be so bad; it was what I expected; to that I have agreed. But to leave the woman I love—no, to that I did not agree, and when they tell me I must do it, I say no, it is not possible; it is asking too much! I rebel—yes, I thrust it all aside, and I come to take you away!”

Madame Ghita’s face was ghastly.

“But the dynasty—your grandfather; it will kill him,” she said, in a voice hoarse with emotion.

“I cannot help it. That is no reason why I should be miserable all my life.”

“And your country?”

“Jeneski will rule it better than I. Come! What is it?” he demanded, seeing that she still stared at him as though fascinated, and made no move. “What is it you fear? That I have no money? See here,” and he plunged his hand into his pocket and brought forth a bulky purse. “I have three hundred thousand francs—enough for two years!”

“Where did you get it?” she asked.

“No matter where I got it!” he cried, and a little spasm crossed his face, distorting it for an instant. “I have it—that is enough. Come!”

“No, no!” she protested. “No, no! You cannot do this!”

“Look here,” put in Davis, who had caught the drift of things, “what about my sister?”

“Your sister will be far happier if she does not marry me,” said the prince. “I am not in the least the man for her.”

“Still,” protested Davis, “to be deserted like this....”

“She may make any explanation she pleases—that it was she who broke off the match—and I will confirm it I have no wish to injure your sister, monsieur, and she will not be injured.”

“Just the same,” Davis muttered, “it’s pretty tough that it should happen twice!”

“If monsieur wishes any other satisfaction,” said the prince haughtily, “I am at his service.” Then he swung back to Madame Ghita. “Alors, Rénee!”

The blood was coming back into her face and she was regaining her self-control.

“Sit down, Danilo,” she said, “and do not be so ridiculous. One cannot go away like that. What about my packing?”

“Your maid can do it.”

“And you—you are going away like that, with just the clothes you have on?”

“My man will send my things after me.”

“No,” she said; “you are too silly. You must keep your word to this girl.”

“But you told me to-day that, when I marry her, everything is over between us.”

“Yes; everything is over between us now, Danilo,” she said gently.

His face flushed a fiery red and he strode toward her threateningly.

“Then it is not because of this marriage that you leave me—it is because you no longer love me!”

She made no answer, only looked at him, smiling slightly, a bright spot of colour in either cheek.

“You love some one else!” he shouted. “Who is it?” and his eyes roved for an instant back to Selden’s face.

“Ah, Danilo,” she said sadly, “do not spoil everything at the end in this way. Do not make me regret that I have known you!”

“Then it is true! Who is it?”

“Monsieur,” said Madame Ghita coldly, “I am not to be shouted at, even by you. You are not yourself to-night. If you are going to behave in this manner, I must ask you to withdraw.”

For an instant, Selden, tense and ready to spring, thought the prince was going to strike her.

“Withdraw!” he repeated, staring at her and then about the apartment, as though doubting his own senses. “You tell me to withdraw!”

And then he burst into a roar of laughter, pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Come,” he said, lighting a cigarette with trembling hand, “it is over. I was a fool, hein? What a joke! Give me some wine!”

Davis, much relieved, filled his glass.

“Do you often have these fits?” he asked.

“Not often, monsieur,” said the prince drily, sipping his wine. “Madame there can testify that I am usually of the most equable. But sometimes—yes, sometimes I think I am a little mad,” and he rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Yet we are all of us a little mad, are we not, M. Selden?” and he looked at Selden with a sardonic smile.

“Some more than others,” Selden answered.

“Ah, you mean me!” said the prince. “Yes, it is so—I more than others. Sometimes I am quite, quite mad. To-night, par example, I thought I had discovered a way of escape from all the things that worried me. That was mad, yes? Because one can never escape!”

“You are right,” Selden agreed. “One can never escape—not by running away.”

“I see what you mean,” and the prince nodded. “To overcome one’s troubles, one must not run away; one must face them, yes? Besides, it is cowardly to run away, and a gentleman must not be a coward. You see I can be a philosopher at times—I am at this moment, very philosophique. I remain—I face my troubles. Monsieur Davis, you will yet have me for a beau-frère! Madame, I ask your pardon!”

“It is granted,” she said. “I am happy to see you reasonable again.”

“Yes, I am reasonable,” he agreed. “Another glass!”

Madame, who had been watching him with evident anxiety, shook her head, but Davis did not see the gesture and filled the glass.

“Wait,” said Davis, and refilled all the glasses. “You remember I told you that I had a surprise for you to-night?”

“Ah, yes,” smiled the prince. “What is it?”

“It is that I am going to marry Miss Fayard,” answered Davis, unconsciously falling into his idiom. “This is my betrothal dinner.”

“Is it true?” cried the prince, and sprang to his feet. “Monsieur—madame—let us drink to the happy pair—to their health, to their happiness, to everything that is good!” He drained his glass, then walked around the table and took the girl’s hand. “Mademoiselle,” he said, “I have always admired you, for you are good. I pray you to accept this little gift for good luck,” and he drew a ring from his finger and slipped it upon hers, then kissed her hand and released it.

“It is beautiful!” she cried, holding it to the light. “But it is your good-luck ring—you should not give me your good-luck ring!”

“I shall not need it any more,” he said; “as père de famille, I shall not tempt fortune. I shall just grow fat and lazy.” He drew his coat about him.

“You are going?” asked madame.

“Yes—I must be getting back.”

“But is it true, Danilo, that you have all that money in your purse?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“It is very foolish—and very dangerous.”

“Dangerous? In Monte Carlo, where one meets a gendarme at every ten steps? Besides—do not worry—I shall place it in the bank as soon as possible. Unless—have you need of some?” and he thrust his hand in his pocket.

“Ah, no!” she said quickly, with a gesture of repugnance.

“It is yours if you want it,” he persisted, his hand still in his pocket, a strange smile on his lips.

“I do not want it,” she answered quietly.

“Then good night,” said the prince. “You have been very good to me, madame; I shall never forget it, and shall wish you happiness always. And you, monsieur,” he continued to Selden, “I regret that it has not been my privilege to know you better—I feel that we might have been friends. But I wish you all good fortune.” He hesitated, his eyes on Selden’s, as though debating whether to say something more; then, with a little shake of the head, turned to Miss Fayard. “And to you, mademoiselle, again I say good luck. I am sure you will bring good luck to others. How old are you?” he added, as though struck by a sudden thought.

“I am nineteen, M. le Prince.”

“Nineteen—a good age—a lucky age!” he said, and kissed her hand. “And you, M. Davis—but I do not need to wish you good fortune—you have it there,” and he nodded toward the girl. “Do not worry, my friend—I will do my best to make your sister happy. I can promise, at least, not to annoy her. Good-bye!”

And with a wave of his hat, he was gone.

They all sat for a moment without speaking, staring at the door through which he had vanished. Then Davis reached for his glass.

“Yes, he is mad,” he gulped. “But what does he mean, going away like that? He—he frightens me!”

Again there was a moment’s silence. Perhaps he frightened all of them. Madame Ghita touched her eyes gently with her handkerchief.

“He reminds me of a man about to go over the top,” said Selden, pensively; “in a sort of ecstasy. I have seen them like that many times, as they stood waiting for the word.”

“Yes,” cried Miss Fayard, with a catch in her throat, “the word to go forward to their death!”

“It is not always death,” said Selden gently, his heart very tender for the lovely sad woman beside him. “Sometimes it is victory!”