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Updated: May 2, 2025
Why the dickens didn't you tell me that it was the Princess Genevra of Rapp-Thorberg who was coming?" "Never thought of it. I didn't know you were interested in princesses, Chase." Hollingsworth Chase now felt that he was on neutral ground with the Princess Genevra. He could hardly credit his senses.
There was nothing more to say, except farewell. She may have bled in her soul for him and for the happiness that was dying as the minutes crept on to the hour of parting, but she carefully, deliberately concealed the wounds from all those who stood by and questioned with their eyes. She was a princess of Rapp-Thorberg! The last day dawned. The sun smiled down upon them.
Chase wondered where all the pretty, vivacious women could have sprung from and were these the officers of the Royal Guard that he had so often laughed at in disdain? Could that gay old gentleman in red and gold be the morbid, carelessly clad Duke of Rapp-Thorberg, whom he had grown to despise because he seemed so ridiculously unlike a real potentate?
She lightly announced that the present state of affairs was no worse than that which she was accustomed to at home. The court of Rapp-Thorberg was ever in a state of unrest, despite its outward suggestion of security. Outbreaks were common among the masses; somehow, they were suppressed before they grew large enough to be noticed by the wide world.
She saw Chase even in the shadows she knew him to be the American she saw Chase lightly leap aside, avoiding the thrust for his heart. Then, as if he were playing with a child, he wrested the weapon from the conductor's hand, snapped the blade in two pieces and threw them off into the bushes. "Skip!" was his only word. It was a command that no one in Rapp-Thorberg ever had heard before.
The soldier from Rapp-Thorberg, a smoking pistol in his hand, the other raised to his helmet, stepped to the side of Hollingsworth Chase. "By order of Her Serene Highness, sir," he said quietly. "Good God!" gasped Chase, passing his hand across his brow. For a full minute there was no sound to be heard on the pier except the lapping of the waves.
He knew, and she was beginning to suspect, that danger lurked in the peaceful, sweet-smelling shades. "I begin to fear, Mr. Chase," she said, with a faint smile, "that Lady Deppingham deceived me in suggesting Japat as a rest cure. It may interest you to know that the court at Rapp-Thorberg has been very gay this winter. Much has happened in the past few months."
Could anything be more miraculous than that she should come to the unheard-of island of Japat unless, possibly, that he should be there when she came? She was there for him to look upon and love and lose, just as he had dreamed all these months. It mattered little that she was now the wife of Prince Karl of Brabetz; to him she was still the Princess Genevra of Rapp-Thorberg.
A hundred eager hands were extended, a hundred voices cried out for mercy, a hundred Mohammedans beat their heads in abject submission. Hollingsworth Chase, Lord Deppingham and a familiar figure in an ill-fitting red jacket and forage cap strode firmly, defiantly between the rows of humble Japatites. Close behind them came a tall, resolute grenadier of the Rapp-Thorberg army.
The excitement attending the Skaggs-Wyckholme revelations had not yet spread to the Grand Duchy of Rapp-Thorberg, apparently lost as it was in the cluster of small units which went to make up a certain empire: one of the world powers. The Grand Duke Michael disdained the world at large; he had but little in common with anything that moved beyond the confines of his narrow domain.
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