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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Beverly of Graustark"

"It's nothing to laugh at, Paul," she
said.
"I beg your pardon a thousand times. I was thinking of the
disappointment I must give you now. I cannot live in the United
States--never. My home is here. I am not born for the strife of your
land. They have soldiers enough and better than I. It is in the
turbulent east that we shall live--you and I." Tears came into her
eyes.
"Am I not to--to go back to Washin'ton?" She tried to smile.
"When Prince Dantan says we may, perhaps."
"Oh, he is my friend," she cried in great relief. "I can get any favor I
ask of him. Oh, Paul, Paul, I know that my folks will think I'm an awful
fool, but I can't help it. I shall let you know that I intend to be a
blissful one, at least."
He kissed her time and again, out there in the dark, soft light of the
fairy grotto.
"Before we can be married, dearest, I have a journey of some importance
to take," he announced, as they arose to leave the bower behind.
"A journey? Where?"
"To Vienna. I have an account to settle with a man who has just taken up
his residence there." His hand went to his sword-hilt and his dark eyes
gleamed with the fire she loved. "Count Marlanx and I have postponed
business to attend to, dearest. Have no fear for me. My sword is honest
and I shall bring it back to you myself."
She shuddered and knew that it would be as he said.


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