CHAPTER XVII

STETTON MAKES A PROPOSAL

When the Prince of Marisi returned to the palace he went at once to his study, as he called it—that room at the end of the corridor on the second floor about which all Marisi was curious, because no one was ever allowed to enter it. Arrived there, he threw himself into a chair and buried himself in meditation.

In that, however, he could find no relief. He rose to his feet and began to pace up and down the room, with his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. It had been many years since the prince had been moved so profoundly as he was at that moment.

He stopped before the fireplace and stood looking up at a portrait that hung over it—the portrait of a woman about thirty years of age, with dark hair and large, serious eyes.

“Sasone,” the prince murmured aloud, “Sasone, it is not you who can help me, but you can forgive.”

For a long time he stood looking at the portrait in silence; then, with a sudden gesture of decision, he turned and rang a bell on the table. When a servant appeared an instant later, the prince asked if General Nirzann was in the palace.

“Yes, your highness; the general is in his room.”

“And De Mide?”

“He went out, your highness, saying that he would be here before your highness returned. He did not expect you—”

“Very well; that is all.”

As soon as the servant had disappeared the prince also left, to make his way to the room of General Nirzann on the floor above.

It was evident that General Nirzann, like De Mide, had not expected his prince to return at so early an hour. He was seated in an armchair, dressed in a pink dressing gown, reading a book. As the prince entered he jumped up with an exclamation of surprise, threw down his book, and bowed halfway to the floor.

“Remain seated,” said the prince with a wave of his hand, crossing to a chair.

The general, with a merry twinkle in his eye, wanted to know if his cousin Aline had lost her charm or was merely indisposed.

“It is of her I came to speak,” said the prince, with so serious an expression on his face that the general instantly altered his own to agree with it.

“What the deuce has she done now?” thought he with an inward frown.

As usual, the prince plunged immediately into the heart of the matter. He began abruptly.

“General, there are some things about Mlle. Solini that I wish to know, and to know positively. If you can tell me, so much the better. If not, I shall send De Mide to Warsaw to find out.”

The effect of these words on General Nirzann may be easily understood. Send De Mide to Warsaw! That would mean the discovery of the general’s deception; it would mean his ruin, his banishment from Marisi; the end of everything. The general, trembling inwardly, took a firm grip on himself.

He said, in as calm a tone as possible, “I cannot understand why you say that, your highness. If you doubt me—”

The prince interrupted.

“No, Nirzann, I do not. I have never entertained a very glowing opinion of your abilities, but your fidelity is beyond question. That is why I come to you. I do not need to explain why, but this has become a serious matter. In the first place, Mlle. Aline Solini is your cousin?”

“She is, your highness.”

The general’s tone was calm and firm; it would appear that he was capable of both courage and resolution in a crisis.

“She has estates near Warsaw?”

“She has had, your highness. They are no longer even in her name.”

“Has she an equity in them?”

“No. She has nothing.”

The prince looked at him sharply.

“She is spending a great deal of money in Marisi. Where does she get it?”

The general was prepared for this question; he and Aline had long before decided what answer should be given to it.

He replied, “She has told me, your highness, that she has a balance of cash left from the disposal of her estates.”

“I see.” There was a short pause, then the prince continued: “Now be frank with me, Nirzann. What do you know of your cousin?”

“Very little, your highness. I have often told you so. Most of her life was spent in a convent. At one time she even considered taking the veil, and I believe she has not yet entirely abandoned the idea.”

“Has she any relatives besides yourself?”

“None.”

“Absolutely none?”

“Absolutely. I have often told your highness that my family has its last male representative in me. We are doomed, it seems, to extinction.”

The general actually achieved a tone of mournfulness.

“That is right; you have often told me that.” The prince paused; he appeared to be thinking. Then he said abruptly, “I have sometimes wondered, general, why you do not marry your cousin.”

General Nirzann smiled.

“Surely that is not a matter of wonder, your highness. In the first place, she has but little money, and I have none. Secondly, she won’t have me.”

“Ah!” The prince’s eyebrows were lifted. “You have asked her, then?”

“Many times, your highness. Would it be possible to see such a prize without making an effort to possess it?”

The prince smiled; he was pleased to hear this sentiment, which had been his own echoed by other lips, even those of General Nirzann.

“You are right,” he declared. “You are positively right, Nirzann. She is indeed a prize.”

“A prize for princes,” said the general, beginning to feel more sure of himself.

“Yes, a prize for princes.” The ruler of Marisi frowned. “But one for which even a prince must pay the full price. That is why I came to talk with you, Nirzann. I know I can depend on what you tell me. I shall not send De Mide to Warsaw—it would be useless; I know everything that can be known. I shall see you tonight at dinner. Au revoir!”

And he departed as abruptly and unceremoniously as he had entered.

As soon as he had left, General Nirzann sprang to his feet in swift and uncontrollable agitation. At that last speech of the prince’s, he had had all he could do to contain himself. Great Heavens! What had he done?

“One for which even a prince must pay the full price.” That could mean but one thing. But it was unthinkable! A prince of Marisi to marry an adventuress, a peasant courtesan? General Nirzann sank back in his chair, groaning in dismay and despair.

To this had he been brought by that demon in the form of a woman! He felt bewildered and crushed by the sudden rush of misfortune. What could he do?

To allow the prince to accomplish his design was impossible. Rather anything than that; for the prince had judged correctly of General Nirzann; if he was nothing else, he was loyal. He had meant to toss Mlle. Solini to him as a plaything—and now this!

The little general swore that he would cut her throat—and his own into the bargain—before he would allow her to become Princess of Marisi; and he meant it.

Something had to be done, and at once. His first thought, of course, was to go to Mlle. Solini; but a moment’s reflection showed him the uselessness of it. He knew very well what would happen.

He would threaten her with exposure; she, knowing that in betraying her he would also betray himself, would defy him to do his worst. Next he thought of going to the prince and telling him the truth. But that held the extreme of danger.

If the prince really contemplated marrying Mlle. Solini in spite of her comparatively humble birth, he must indeed be infatuated with her, and he would not deal lightly with the man who, by his own confession, had so deceived him.

For an hour the general remained irresolute, while a thousand schemes raced in and out of his brain. Now he would throw himself into a chair in despair; again he would spring to his feet and pace rapidly up and down the room.

Was there no way out of it? That devil of a woman! He would like to wring her neck! What was to be done? The general tore his hair and called to the heavens.

Suddenly, struck with an idea, he stopped short. Ah, Perhaps—perhaps—

He considered for a moment; then, suddenly making up his mind, snatched up his coat and hat and ran through the hall and down the stairs to the porte-cochere of the palace.

A limousine was standing at the foot of the steps. The general sprang in, calling to the driver, “The Hotel Walderin—and hurry.”

Ten minutes later he was asking at the desk of the Walderin for Richard Stetton.

“M. Stetton?” said the polite clerk. “I will see if he is in, general.”

A wait of five minutes, which to the general seemed an hour, and a message came from M. Stetton to show the visitor up immediately.

To say that Stetton was surprised to receive a call from General Nirzann would be to put it mildly. But he was usually content to take things as they came, and he merely allowed himself to wonder, “What can that fellow want with me?” However, his surprise showed on his face as the general entered the room.

The two men bowed politely and looked at each other with an expression which, though not exactly hostile, was certainly not over-cordial. As for the general, he was in no mood to humor petty antagonisms. This was a matter of life and death to him, and he came straight to the point.

“M. Stetton,” he began abruptly, “no doubt you are surprised to see me.”

The young man admitted that the call was somewhat unexpected in its nature.

“I have come to you,” continued the general, “concerning a matter which is equally important to both of us, and—”

Stetton interrupted him to ask him to be seated. The general, moving in quick little jerks, placed his hat on one chair and himself on another.

“My errand has to do with Mlle. Solini. I believe that you are interested in her.”

Stetton, wondering what on earth would come next, admitted that this surmise was not incorrect.

“What I have to say will surprise you,” continued the general, “perhaps as much as it surprised me. As you know, I have been—er—more or less intimate with Mlle. Solini, and I am perfectly aware of the relations that exist between you and her. Well, she is playing you double. She is betraying you. Monsieur—” The general halted for a moment; then continued impressively: “Unless you or I do something to interfere, Mlle. Solini will marry the Prince of Marisi within a month.”

Stetton did not appear so surprised after all. Instead, he smiled as one who possesses superior knowledge.

“You are mistaken, general,” he said.

Then, when the general began to insist that he knew only too well what he was talking about, Stetton continued, interrupting him.

“Pardon me—just a moment. It is no wonder that you have been deceived, with all the rest of Marisi. Indeed, for a time I was deceived myself, when I saw that the prince was spending every afternoon at Aline’s house. I demanded an explanation, as my right, and she explained everything in two words. It is Mlle. Janvour the prince goes to see—if he marries anyone, it will be she.”

“Rot!” cried the general. “I tell you, it is Mlle. Solini herself!”

“Mlle. Solini says otherwise.” Stetton smiled, unmoved.

“Then she is deceiving you.”

“It is hardly likely. She would not dare.”

“But it is! Monsieur, I see I shall be forced to tell you the source of my information.” The general paused a moment, then continued: “It is the Prince of Marisi himself.”

This made its impression. A look of doubt and astonishment appeared on Stetton’s face.

“The prince!” he exclaimed.

“Yes. Perhaps now you will believe. Mlle. Solini has been lying to you, which is not surprising. She intends to marry the prince; it has been her game all along. What is worse, the prince intends to marry her.”

Stetton leaped to his feet with an oath, advancing toward the general.

“This is the truth?” he demanded.

“It is the truth, monsieur.” The idea of resenting the implication did not enter the general’s head.

“The Prince of Marisi told you that he is going to marry Mlle. Solini?”

“Not in so many words. No. But his meaning was unmistakable.”

There was a silence. Stetton resumed his chair. The general regarded him anxiously. What was he going to do? The question was soon answered, when the American again rose to his feet, walked rapidly to the wardrobe, and took down his coat and hat. Then he turned.

“General, I thank you. It is true we are not friends, but you were perfectly right to come to me, and I thank you. We stand together in this matter. There is no time to be lost.”

The general also rose. “Where are you going?”

“To see Aline. Will you come with me?”

But the general had already decided that he would allow Stetton to fight this battle alone. He had a dozen excuses ready, and he recited them glibly as the two men left the room together and descended in the elevator.

Stetton did not insist; he was glad, indeed, of the other’s refusal. They parted in front of the Walderin; General Nirzann to return to the palace in the limousine, and Stetton to take a cab to 341 the Drive.

The truth was that Stetton by no means held implicit belief in the general’s story. With him Aline had done her work well, playing on his vanity with the expertness of a master musician fingering the keys of a pianoforte.

She had allowed him just enough encouragement to lead him to believe that she longed for their wedding as much as he. She had explained all her activities with perfect logic. Still, the tale of the general was enough to cause even him to doubt, and he was consumed with impatience as he sat waiting for Mlle. Solini in her—or his—library.

Entering, she crossed to his side and offered him her lips to kiss. Stetton accepted the offer with alacrity, but with a lack of warmth that did not escape her attention. Her thought was: “A few days more, M. Stetton, and I shall say goodbye to you forever.”

She said, “My dear boy, you have something on your mind. See how easily I can read you! That is a proof of love. But come, out with it.”

Stetton had long before given up all attempts at finesse with Mlle. Solini. He replied simply, “It is not pleasant.”

“Good Heavens! It never is.”

“It will require a great deal of explanation.”

“It always does.”

“It amounts to this, Aline, that you have been lying to me.”

’”Monsieur!”

“Now, don’t fly into a rage. You have found out by this time that I am plainspoken. I say what I believe. I repeat, you have been lying to me.”

“What do you mean?”

Stetton eyed her for a moment in silence, with a look that was meant to be searching and disconcerting.

“I’ll tell you what I mean,” he said finally. “Sit down!”

When Aline had obeyed this command, he told her word for word what he had just heard from the lips of General Nirzann.

Aline heard him through in silence. When he had finished, she observed calmly, “Well, what of it?”

“It is true, then!” cried Stetton, suddenly enraged, for he had expected an immediate and vociferous denial. “You admit it!”

“I admit nothing. I simply say, if it is true, what then?”

“Answer me! Is it true?”

There was a silence, while he stood looking down at her with blazing eyes. He repeated his question a dozen times, in varying tones of insistence and anger; she sat motionless and silent, with lowered eyes. Suddenly she spoke, and there was something in her tone that compelled attention.

“M. Stetton, I will answer your question, but in my own way. Will you listen to me?”

“You can answer yes or no,” he insisted, “and talk afterward. Is it true?”

But she persisted, and he was forced to give way. He took a chair across the table.

“Go on,” he said with a frown. “But to begin with, you know what I know, and what I will do.”

“I know,” said Aline. “I know only too well. That is why I want to talk to you. I am going to appeal to your generosity, and that is something I have never done before with any man.”

“I have not too great a stock of it left,” said Stetton dryly.

Aline replied, “No, and that is why I do not count on success. But I feel that I owe myself the chance, if there is one. Monsieur, it amounts to this, that it rests with you to save me.”

“That is exactly what I am trying to do.”

“I do not mean that. I mean to save me from yourself. I am at your mercy; I admit it. I am asking you to be generous.”

Stetton grew impatient.

“But what do you mean? What do you want? What are you talking about? It occurs to me that I have been fairly generous already.”

And indeed, so he had; was there not at that moment over two hundred thousand francs in cash locked away in Mlle. Solini’s desk upstairs?

“You have been generous,” agreed Aline, “more so than I had any right to expect. But that is not what I mean. I do not want money, monsieur, I want my freedom.”

“Your freedom?” This suspiciously.

“Yes. Do you not see? Monsieur, three months ago—it seems as many years—I promised to marry you. I understood at the time very well what I was doing. I made that bargain willingly; indeed, what else was there to do? I was in great danger—I was alone—I had to think of Vivi as well as myself. But since then I have grown to detest and hate myself for it. You are a gentleman, monsieur. I ask you to release me.”

“What! What! You—”

“Wait—let me finish. Despising myself as I did, I yet had every intention of living up to my word, desiring only first to dispose Vivi safely in marriage. I had that intention till yesterday. But yesterday”—here Mlle. Solini’s voice faltered—she appeared to be overcome with emotion—”yesterday, monsieur, an honorable man—a gentleman—asked for my hand in marriage.”

“The prince!” cried Stetton furiously.

“I do not say who it was, monsieur. It would not be fair to him. But now you know what I want. His offer is honorable. I ask you to permit me to accept it.”

She stopped, looking at Stetton through lowered lids. He appeared to be really touched, as he gazed at her in silence.

He said finally, “But it is impossible! I love you!”

“Monsieur, you cannot refuse me. I beg of you—I plead for your mercy—”

He replied more firmly, in a tone of finality, “It is impossible. I cannot give you up.”

Aline’s manner suddenly changed. She raised her head with an air of defiance and looked straight into his eyes.

“You will not give me my freedom—you will not release me from my bargain?”

“I will not.”

“What if I do as I please?”

“You dare not.”

“You would betray me?”

“If you force me, yes.”

There was a silence. Again Aline’s eyes were lowered.

Then she looked up again and said in a tone of hopelessness, “Very well, monsieur. But of one thing rest assured—I will not allow you to cover me with shame. My bargain with you is ended.”

Stetton gazed at her in astonishment. “But what are you going to do?”

Aline replied in the same tone of hopelessness and despair.

“What can I do? There is but one thing left to me—a life of resignation and piety. You found me in a convent, monsieur. I shall leave you to go to one.”

Instantly Stetton was jumping up and down in frantic protest. She should not go! He would not permit it! He loved her—he could not give her up! He would follow her to the door of the convent—he would prohibit her entrance!

Stetton stormed, threatened, and pleaded by turns. She had made the bargain—she should live up to it! Did she not love him? He would not give her up—he could not! He would do anything—he would go anywhere—he would give her anything in the world she wanted.

But she would not move from her decision.

Her eyes were wet with tears, and, seeing them so for the first time, he thought them ravishingly beautiful. He felt an irresistible desire to kiss the tears away. But she would not let him touch her.

“Never,” she cried, “never, never.”

“But you must—you must!” he exclaimed in despair. “I can’t live without you! To lose you now? It would drive me mad! Aline—my darling—listen, Aline—you must marry me!”

“Ah, monsieur, it is too late! No—no—do not tempt me—I have decided—”

Instantly he was on his knees, begging and pleading with her to marry him. Suddenly she murmured something—he protested violently—it appeared that she doubted his sincerity. He swore by everything sacred that he had never been more in earnest in his life.

She looked up and asked abruptly, “Would you marry me now—tonight?”

“Why—what—I don’t see—” he stammered, completely taken aback.

“But I do see, monsieur. Forgive me, but I have reason to doubt you.”

“What can I do?” cried Stetton. “To marry you tonight is impossible. There are arrangements to make—it would appear strange—Anything I can do I will do.”

“You are willing, then, to bind yourself?”

“Utterly! You mean a contract? Gladly!”

“No, I do not mean that. I would not ask that. But why—I wish to feel assured—will you write to me tonight?”

“Write to you?” He appeared not to understand.

“Yes,” she answered. “Write what you have said.”

This was a close game she was playing now. She risked a smile—a little tantalizing smile that softened her words.

It was unnecessary. Stetton could see no reason why he should not write a proposal of marriage to the woman he seriously intended to marry. He said as much, and expressed a willingness to execute the document at once on the table in the library.

Aline thought quickly. There was no paper in the house except her own and Vivi’s, tinted and scented, and that, she decided, would be dangerous for her purpose. She replied that it was unnecessary to do as he suggested; it would be sufficient for him to send his formal proposal from the hotel.

Stetton replied in the tone of one who intends to make good his words, “You will receive it tomorrow morning,” and went his way.