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Prince or Chauffeur? A Story of Newport

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<h3> CHAPTER XVIII </h3> <h3> ANNE WELLINGTON HAS HER FIRST TEST </h3> Sara was waiting for Anne in the hall. She had taken off her hat and stood idly swinging it. A single globe was lighted in the chandelier overhead and the extremities of the great apartment were lost in gloom. "Well, dear," Sara yawned broadly, "I fancy we shall sleep to-night." Anne had thrown her arm over Sara's shoulders and they were walking toward the stairs when Koltsoff appeared from the shadow, confronting them. "Oh! Prince Koltsoff! How you frightened me," said Anne in a low voice, drawing back. "A thousand pardons. It would have grieved me had I thought of doing that." Sara observed him with irritation. There was, however, so much of the exotic about the man, as to render him attractive, even to her. Tall, well—if slimly—built; in manner graceful—"silken" was the designation that occurred to her—there could be no question as to the potency of his personality: a potency, by the way, from whose spell, she had learned in various ways throughout the evening, Anne was not entirely aloof. It was perfectly clear to Sara, that with Armitage, strong and clever in a wholesome masculine way, Anne was the light-hearted, mischievous, pure-minded girl—his ideal of American young womanhood. But now she caught the other note of her character—an untrue note, but none the less positive—and the other look in her eyes. Her voice was deeper, more womanly, more surcharged with underlying things, as she spoke to the Russian, and Sara could see she was breathing more rapidly. "I have been waiting to see you, Miss Wellington," he was saying. "I have waited so long." There was a note of pathos in his voice. "Is it important—now?" asked Anne, and her friend tugged at her sleeve. "I am very tired and sleepy." "For a few moments, that is all," persisted the Prince gently. "Is it too much?" Sara, inwardly raging, detected the subtle appeal which this man, so versed apparently in the emotions of womanhood, was making to the inherent maternal, protective, sympathetic instincts of the girl, who, now they were aroused, was smiling patiently. "Very well, Prince Koltsoff. Don't bother to wait, Sara. Good-night." "Such a day of weariness, Miss Wellington,", said the Prince, as he followed Anne to a bench running along the foot of the staircase. "One of my men,—calf-head,—was arrested in Boston." "Arrested! Really! What had he been doing?" "Nothing, I assure you, save trying to leave this bestial country. He had been of service to me in Newport and elsewhere. I was worried. I am worried. He was allowed to go. But they took valuable papers concerning Austria from him. How can I get them? Am I undone?" Koltsoff raised his eyes. "How can I say? Steinberg at Boston is in Maine. And so—" Koltsoff tossed his hand in the air—"I have spent," he at last continued, "more than twenty thousand roubles on the matter. I have spent five thousand roubles on the dumbhead, Yeasky, who has not the brains or courage of a mouse. I am discouraged." He caught her hand, pressed it to his forehead, and released it. "But I oppress you with my diplomatic cares," he murmured. "It has been the first time I ever burdened a woman with them. You—you are different, because you are of the few gifted to bear, to solve them." Anne made no reply. "You hold safely that which I placed in your keeping?" he asked after a pause. His hand felt its way to hers, lying inert on the cushion, his fingers closing softly upon it. She did not withdraw it, but lowered her head. "Was it in connection with that your man was arrested in Boston?" Koltsoff laughed. "They thought to connect him with it. But—" he pressed Anne's fingers, "the connecting link happened to be in your—jewelry safe." Anne, thrilled at the part she was playing in the mysterious diplomatic episode, laughed softly. Somehow it all appeared bigger even than dodging under battleships' bows,—certainly more subtle. Koltsoff gazed at her admiringly. "My dear Miss Wellington," he said, "do you realize more and more, that of which I spoke to-day—your fitness for the international sphere? Your beauty—your coolness—the temper of your spirit—your ability to sway strong men, as you have swayed me—do you appreciate all? Are you proud that you have swayed me?" "Prince Koltsoff!" Anne's voice rang with doubt and anguish and yet—pride. She was tired and spent with the day and as his arm stole, almost snake-like, about her waist, she raised a nerveless hand, plucked feebly to remove the fingers pressing into her side, and then let her hand fall to the cushion. His head was bending over her, his face was very close. Some vivid instinct told her that he must not kiss her. She tried to struggle but she could not. The next instant she was living that epoch which innocence may only know ere it perishes—a man's lips making free with eyes and mouth and cheeks. She lay now, half in his arms, looking at him with wide, startled eyes, her lips parched. "Anne," he bent forward to kiss her again, but she turned her head away and then, again, her unchanging eyes sought his face. "What I have done—what I have meant, I shall make clear to your parents to-morrow. To you I can say nothing now. You—ah, of course know the European custom." "Please let me go." There was a tired sob in Anne's voice. "But I have not yet told you that which I wish to say." Anne tore from his arm and started up. "You haven't! Oh, very well. I am listening." "You were out with the torpedo boats tonight. You were upon the boat with Lieutenant Armitage." "I—" Anne paused. Armitage, without attempting to obtain promises of secrecy as to the mission of the flotilla, had pointed out that all information of the sort was absolutely confidential and that above all the ability of a torpedo boat destroyer to get within two hundred yards of a battleship was not news that the Government would care to have disseminated, even though it were the exception rather than the rule. This thought shot through Anne's mind. "You quite surprise me," she said finally. "Oh, I really do not," smiled Koltsoff. "As I have informed you, we diplomats are omnipresent. Therefore I do not surprise you when I say that you and your friend were on the D'Estang; that the Jefferson had an accident and sent two scalded men to the hospital. All that—pouf!" Koltsoff snapped his fingers. "That is immaterial—who cares about such manoeuvres as the Navy of the United States indulge in! But," and Koltsoff bent toward her with unwinking eyes, "this is important: the D'Estang became separated from the rest of the fleet and there are reports that she discharged a new sort of torpedo at the battleship. That is interesting—important to me. I feared I could not ascertain until I learned that my skilled coadjutor, my fellow diplomat," he nodded at her, "was present on the D'Estang." "Why do you ask me? Why don't you apply to Mr. Armitage?" "Ah, he would tell me, of course!" laughed Koltsoff sarcastically. "In any event, I have yet to know him. He was at Washington when I arrived in Newport, and since his return has been at the Torpedo Station but one night. My men have not been able to find him." Anne had forgotten her weariness now. "There seems to be something, at least, in the American Navy that you find worthy of close interest," she said. An expression of indifference settled upon the Prince's face. "Ah, if you know of the Navy, you know the nations are always interested in the new devices and plans of other nations. I once paid fifteen thousand roubles for the plans of an English fort." "And so diplomacy is stealing or buying information, then?" "Diplomacy is anything, Anne." "You interest me, Prince Koltsoff." "But the D'Estang—I imagine she was not successful with her torpedoing." Inwardly he was cursing Yeasky, as he had been all the evening; Yeasky had never missed a trip of the D'Estang. Anne, beginning to see, had worked into her cool, malicious mood. "You must not be so imaginative," she gaped [Transcriber's note: gasped?]. "And now if you 'll excuse me—it's two o'clock." "But Anne—Miss Wellington!" The Prince was at her side. "You do not really intend to deny me!" He shook his head, as though dazed. "It cannot be possible that our understanding is so incomplete. I had dared to hope, to believe that our interests were so swiftly merging. And what is it that I ask! Merely a slight question about the D'Estang. Anne—is it upon so little a thing that you fail me? Would that you might try me with a bigger, greater test. You should see!" "Do you mean that, really?" "As God is my judge!" cried the Prince fervently. "Then," said Anne seriously, "say good-night to me. Pardon me, but I am tired." "But the D'Estang," cried Koltsoff insistently. "My plans—my life—" "What!" interrupted Anne, as a thought was born of his words. "I understood that this was merely a matter of routine naval intelligence." Koltsoff mopped his forehead. "That is true," he hastened to say, "but matters of routine are the greater part of the lives of such as we. Our success depends upon it, alone. Pardon me, but I must insist that you tell me what I have asked." He had almost backed her against the wainscoting. "And I won't tell you, Prince Koltsoff." "Why not, pray?" "I will tell you why," her voice quivered with emotion. "This morning you convinced me pretty thoroughly that I had no right to call myself an American. I still feel that way, don't you know. But to-night I 've seen brave and devoted men risking their lives and perfecting themselves in their calling not only through professional interest but through love of their country and their flag, and dare-devil enthusiasm in serving under a flag that means so much to them. The father of the junior officer on the D'Estang is a farmer and the captain of the Barclay is the son of an insurance clerk. But they're all of one cut and out of one mould—American fighting men who would shoot or knock down any one who dared utter in their presence such words as I have listened to from you—more shame to me—without a single emotion, save amusement." She ran on breathlessly, "Whatever happened on the D'Estang to-night, important or unimportant, is the concern of the Navy of my country alone. Hereafter, in anything you say or do, Prince Koltsoff, remember I am learning to be an American—" she stopped and smiled at her own ardor, "so please don't say anything to discourage me." Koltsoff, who had been listening in silence, without making a movement, suddenly bowed his head. "I am sorry, Miss Wellington!" His voice was broken and sincerely so. "I misunderstood!" He sank to one knee and seized the bottom of her skirt. "Don't, Prince Koltsoff, please!" Anne was swiftly relenting. She drew her skirt away and the Prince arising took her hand. "Ah, please!" she said. "Not until I hear you are not angry." "I am not angry." He had drawn her close to him and they were looking into each other's eyes. "What is it?" she asked weakly. Her very personality seemed ebbing from her. "You love me?" His voice was almost a whisper. She smiled wanly. "Is this love?" "Is it! What is love? Love is giving—yielding. Love knows neither country nor patriotism nor religion!" His glittering eyes were still holding hers. "And so," his voice was low but masterful, "I ask you—not that I care vitally for the answer of itself; you must know, must understand my motives—I ask you, did the D'Estang discharge a torpedo to-night?" Long they looked at each other and then slowly the girl shook her head. "You mean no? She did not?" Koltsoff's voice was eager, his arms tightened about her. "I do not mean anything." Then suddenly she twisted out of his arms and stood with white face and parted lips, pointing to the stairway. "Now," she cried, "go! Go, I tell you," she stamped her foot as Koltsoff hesitated. "Go, or I shall hate you!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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