The Prisoner of Zenda. Anthony HopeЧитать онлайн книгу.
you notice Michael?”
“Yes,” said I, adding, “he wasn’t enjoying himself.”
“Do be careful!” she went on. “You don’t—indeed you don’t—keep enough watch on him. You know—”
“I know,” said I, “that he wants what I’ve got.”
“Yes. Hush!”
Then—and I can’t justify it, for I committed the King far beyond what I had a right to do—I suppose she carried me off my feet—I went on:
“And perhaps also something which I haven’t got yet, but hope to win some day.”
This was my answer. Had I been the King, I should have thought it encouraging:
“Haven’t you enough responsibilities on you for one day, cousin?”
Bang, bang! Blare, blare! We were at the Palace. Guns were firing and trumpets blowing. Rows of lackeys stood waiting, and, handing the princess up the broad marble staircase, I took formal possession, as a crowned King, of the House of my ancestors, and sat down at my own table, with my cousin on my right hand, on her other side Black Michael, and on my left his Eminence the Cardinal. Behind my chair stood Sapt; and at the end of the table, I saw Fritz von Tarlenheim drain to the bottom his glass of champagne rather sooner than he decently should.
I wondered what the King of Ruritania was doing.
We were in the King’s dressing-room—Fritz von Tarlenheim, Sapt, and I. I flung myself exhausted into an armchair. Sapt lit his pipe. He uttered no congratulations on the marvellous success of our wild risk, but his whole bearing was eloquent of satisfaction. The triumph, aided perhaps by good wine, had made a new man of Fritz.
“What a day for you to remember!” he cried. “Gad, I’d like to be King for twelve hours myself! But, Rassendyll, you mustn’t throw your heart too much into the part. I don’t wonder Black Michael looked blacker than ever—you and the princess had so much to say to one another.”
“How beautiful she is!” I exclaimed.
“Never mind the woman,” growled Sapt. “Are you ready to start?”
“Yes,” said I, with a sigh.
It was five o’clock, and at twelve I should be no more than Rudolf Rassendyll. I remarked on it in a joking tone.
“You’ll be lucky,” observed Sapt grimly, “if you’re not the late Rudolf Rassendyll. By Heaven! I feel my head wobbling on my shoulders every minute you’re in the city. Do you know, friend, that Michael has had news from Zenda? He went into a room alone to read it—and he came out looking like a man dazed.”
“I’m ready,” said I, this news making me none the more eager to linger.
Sapt sat down.
“I must write us an order to leave the city. Michael’s Governor, you know, and we must be prepared for hindrances. You must sign the order.”
“My dear colonel, I’ve not been bred a forger!”
Out of his pocket Sapt produced a piece of paper.
“There’s the King’s signature,” he said, “and here,” he went on, after another search in his pocket, “is some tracing paper. If you can’t manage a ‘Rudolf’ in ten minutes, why—I can.”
“Your education has been more comprehensive than mine,” said I. “You write it.”
And a very tolerable forgery did this versatile hero produce.
“Now, Fritz,” said he, “the King goes to bed. He is upset. No one is to see him till nine o’clock tomorrow. You understand—no one?”
“I understand,” answered Fritz.
“Michael may come, and claim immediate audience. You’ll answer that only princes of the blood are entitled to it.”
“That’ll annoy Michael,” laughed Fritz.
“You quite understand?” asked Sapt again. “If the door of this room is opened while we’re away, you’re not to be alive to tell us about it.”
“I need no schooling, colonel,” said Fritz, a trifle haughtily.
“Here, wrap yourself in this big cloak,” Sapt continued to me, “and put on this flat cap. My orderly rides with me to the hunting-lodge tonight.”
“There’s an obstacle,” I observed. “The horse doesn’t live that can carry me forty miles.”
“Oh, yes, he does—two of him: one here—one at the lodge. Now, are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” said I.
Fritz held out his hand.
“In case,” said he; and we shook hands heartily.
“Damn your sentiment!” growled Sapt. “Come along.”
He went, not to the door, but to a panel in the wall.
“In the old King’s time,” said he, “I knew this way well.”
I followed him, and we walked, as I should estimate, near two hundred yards along a narrow passage. Then we came to a stout oak door. Sapt unlocked it. We passed through, and found ourselves in a quiet street that ran along the back of the Palace gardens. A man was waiting for us with two horses. One was a magnificent bay, up to any weight; the other a sturdy brown. Sapt signed to me to mount the bay. Without a word to the man, we mounted and rode away. The town was full of noise and merriment, but we took secluded ways. My cloak was wrapped over half my face; the capacious flat cap hid every lock of my tell-tale hair. By Sapt’s directions, I crouched on my saddle, and rode with such a round back as I hope never to exhibit on a horse again. Down a long narrow lane we went, meeting some wanderers and some roisterers; and, as we rode, we heard the Cathedral bells still clanging out their welcome to the King. It was half-past six, and still light. At last we came to the city wall and to a gate.
“Have your weapon ready,” whispered Sapt. “We must stop his mouth, if he talks.”
I put my hand on my revolver. Sapt hailed the doorkeeper. The stars fought for us! A little girl of fourteen tripped out.
“Please, sir, father’s gone to see the King.”
“He’d better have stayed here,” said Sapt to me, grinning.
“But he said I wasn’t to open the gate, sir.”
“Did he, my dear?” said Sapt, dismounting. “Then give me the key.”
The key was in the child’s hand. Sapt gave her a crown.
“Here’s an order from the King. Show it to your father. Orderly, open the gate!”
I leapt down. Between us we rolled back the great gate, led our horses out, and closed it again.
“I shall be sorry for the doorkeeper if Michael finds out that he wasn’t there. Now then, lad, for a canter. We mustn’t go too fast while we’re near the town.”
Once, however, outside the city, we ran little danger, for everybody else was inside, merry-making; and as the evening fell we quickened our pace, my splendid horse bounding along under me as though I had been a feather. It was a fine night, and presently the moon appeared. We talked little on the way, and chiefly about the progress we were making.
“I wonder what the duke’s despatches told him,” said I, once.
“Ay,