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I'm sure you're beginning to feel the cold. You you're shivering and and I'm afraid you look rather ill." She had insisted on Stefan's taking back some of the things she had borrowed from his wife, and had been standing there in rather inadequate clothing. Ennis pulled off his heavy mackinaw jacket. "You must put this on at once," he told her, gently enough, "and come right over there with me."
"If he had it vould still be his own pusiness," asserted Stefan, biting off a chew from a black plug and stowing away the telegram in a coat pocket. Hugo Ennis was his friend. Anything that Hugo did was all right. Folks who had anything to criticize in his conduct were likely to incur Stefan's displeasure. The big fellow's dog-team was ready.
Had old Adelbert been alive to anything but his mission, he would have seen that this was no mob of revolutionists, but a throng of grieving people, awaiting the great bell of St. Stefan's with its dire news. Then, above their heads, it rang out, slow, ominous, terrible. A sob ran through the crowd. In groups, and at last as a whole, the throng knelt. Men uncovered and women wept.
In the alliance with Karnia he had given the Terrorists a scourge to flay the people to revolt. Now he waited for the King's death. Waited numbly. For, with the tolling of St. Stefan's bell would rise the cry for the new King. And there was no King. In the little room where the Sisters kept their medicines, so useless now, Hedwig knelt at the Prie-dieu and prayed.
All the time Stefan's language brought scared faces to the windows of neighboring shacks. It was a good thing, probably, that few people in Carcajou understood Swedish. Still, from the sound of it they judged that it must be something pretty bad. Finally he was off again, lacking the smartest animal in his team.
Her lips met his they were incredibly soft and warm they seemed to blossom under his kisses. Adolph, returning from the opera at midnight, donned his old jacket and a pair of slippers and, lighting his pipe, settled himself with a paper to await Stefan's coming. Presently first the paper, then the burnt-out pipe, fell from his hands he dozed, started awake, and dozed again.
Smiling, she poured out his third cup of tea, and was just passing it when there was a knock, and McEwan entered the hall. "Hello, Byrd," he called, his broad shoulders blocking the sitting room door as he came in; "down among the Rubes again? Madam Mary, I accept in advance your offer of tea. Well, how goes the counterfeit presentment of our friend Twinkle-Toes?" Stefan's eyebrows went up.
Three times Mary sang the immortal ballads of Shakespeare simply, but with sure art and feeling. As the last notes ceased, "Love's a stuff will not endure," and the applause broke out, absolute peace flooded Stefan's heart. In a dream he waited for her at the saloon door, held her coat, and mounted beside her to the boat deck.
In the pink of condition, therefore, the team bade fair to equal Stefan's best performances. The Frenchman was within sight of the smokestack rising from Carcajou's sawmill when he opened his eyes, widely. A pair of horses was coming along the old road, drawing a big sled. As the old lumber trail was used only by dog-teams, as a rule, this surprised him.
He felt uncomfortable. "Don't you think he would get the right atmosphere better perhaps than anyone?" queried Farraday, who seemed courteously anxious to elicit Stefan's opinion. Mary interposed hastily. "Mr. Farraday, he can't answer you. I'm afraid I've been stupid, but I was so pessimistic about these verses that I wouldn't show them to him.
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