United States or Comoros ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"A short life and a merry one, a stout blade and a noble one," they heard Muhlen-Sarkey shout as he lunged forward with a laugh into the thickest of the fray. At the first onslaught they saw Delmotte fall apparently dead. Carter drew the girl away from the sight of further carnage.
Then she continued slowly, deliberately, letting the acid truth of each word eat out the joy in her heart, "You mean that M. Delmotte must no longer know Marie, the model." The Colonel, who had approached, had overheard this last thing spoken. "It is possible," the latter hinted, "that he might desire to spare you the pain of leave taking, as he goes with us from Paris from your world."
With true Parisian humor she laughed heartily at the paralysis, and speech was thawed. Colonel Sutphen stood forward and bowed courteously. "Your pardon, mademoiselle. We were informed that a young man, Eugene Delmotte, resided here. Pardon our mistake, accept our most humble apology and permit us to depart." He moved toward the door as a signal for a general exodus.
After the formalities had been attended to, and he had received the sincere good wishes of his nobles, the King turned to the beautiful girl at his side. "Do you leave with us to-morrow?" he asked. "Of our future plans I have had necessarily only a sketch. So little time has elapsed since Colonel Sutphen visited Eugene Delmotte that King Stovik can readily be forgiven for some slight ignorance."
His disordered locks, beret upon the floor, red tie askew, if not his tragic, rolling eyes and clenched fists, would have apprised Mlle. Marie that all was not as it should be with M. Delmotte. With full appreciation of the effectiveness of the gesture, the artist threw himself into a large chair before an unfinished canvas of heroic dimensions. He buried his face in his hands. He groaned.
Involuntary curiosity called all eyes toward the painting. The effect was magical. Astonishment showed in every Krovitch face. They, one and all, uncovered their heads as they recognized in the subject the unconscious expression of their sovereign's patriotism. "Is that the work of M. Delmotte?" inquired the Colonel with voice softened by what he had just seen.
The King's glance about the room had not been free from an apprehension that such a course might awaken inquisitive questions from officials. "Oh, certainly not, Your Majesty," the girl reassured him. "Your Majesty will procure a passport made out to Eugene Delmotte, artist. You will be traveling to Krovitch for studies for the painting I hear you are making.
Then the door opened. "It is he," whispered Josef. All heads uncovered and each man bowed low. Delmotte stood petrified with astonishment. "Messieurs," he said at last, recovering his speech, "messieurs, I am honored." Then as his eyes lighted on Josef, they sparkled with unexpected recognition. "You are Petros," he said, puzzled by the brilliant throng surrounding him.
"Here's what he says: "MY DEAR MAJOR CARTER: "When Her Grace, under your escort, left us on the road to the charcoal burner's we had a desperate fight. Muhlen-Sarkey, after giving a good account of himself, fell like the noble gentleman he was and jested with death. Zulka was killed in a three-to-one fight. Delmotte fell badly wounded but not seriously. Casimir and the rest were killed.
We will raise the battle cry of Krovitch and at Schallberg crown you and your Queen." "My Queen," almost shouted the astonished Delmotte, "have I a Queen, too? Are you all crazy, or am I? Pray heaven the Queen is none other than Marie, else I'll have no supper to-night. Who is my queen?" He asked as he saw the expression of disapproval which appeared on more than one face present.
Word Of The Day