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Updated: June 11, 2025
Heatherbloom's term of service came to an end, had expressed a desire to revisit her old home and friends in the West. One of a party made up mostly of other Californians now residents of New York city the girl had failed to appear on the private car at the appointed time, and the train had pulled out, leaving her behind.
"What do you want?" he said. "Several things." Mr. Heatherbloom's own eyes were keen as darts. "First, you will give orders that the Nevski is to change her course to head for the nearest American port." "Impossible!" the prince exclaimed violently. "On the contrary, it is quite possible. We have the fuel, as I can testify."
The prince's muscles had lost some of their hardness from high living and he was, moreover, unversed in the great Anglo-American pastime. He strove to seize his aggressor, to strangle him, but his fingers failed to grip what they sought. At the same time Mr. Heatherbloom's arms shot up, down and around, with marvelous precision, seeking and finding the vulnerable spots.
The flame of the dying sun flared in Mr. Heatherbloom's face, but he continued motionless. Gone! It was the only word he, could think of. Every thought, every emotion centered around it. He could not reason or argue. No plan occurred to him now. He continued to sit still, seeing but one picture a boat vanishing. Night had begun to fall as they returned to the city.
Mr. Heatherbloom's features had hardened; he did not answer directly. "She likes to talk about Russia?" he said, half to himself. Marie shrugged. "Is it not to be her country some day?" "No, it isn't!" The words seemed forced from his lips; he spoke almost fiercely. "She may live there with him, but it will never be her country. This is her country.
Possibly the prince had been driven out of the last port by the publicity attendant upon Mr. Heatherbloom's presence there, before certain needed repairs had been completed. These, Mr. Heatherbloom now surmised, it was his excellency's intention to have attended to in some island harbor before proceeding with a longer voyage. Only five hours!
"Good-by!" now burst from the nobleman so violently that Mr. Heatherbloom's momentary exultation changed to a feeling of apprehension. But M. le Capitaine had evidently become accustomed to occasional explosive moments from his august patron. He concerned himself only with the command, not the manner in which it was given. "Eh? Mon Dieu! Do I hear your excellency aright?"
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