Marishka

“ She might have obeyed instructions to be the bearer of any note that Marishka might write—indeed her childish prattle as to the wishes of her lord and master verified the voices of Marishka's dream, and suggested that Marishka should be permitted to do as she chose—so that Yeva had offered, without fear of consequences, to deliver Marishka's note at the hotel. She had even consented to leave the lower door open that Marishka might escape and follow her. No woman of the world could have acted a part as Yeva had played it. ”

“ No fatalism is long proof against the call of love and June. Marishka was content that her flight had ended in capture and sat dreamily gazing at the white clouds floating overhead while she listened to the voice at her ear, replying to it in monosyllables, the language of acquiescence and content. The moments passed. Konopisht was no longer a garden. Enchanted their bower and even the red roses forgotten. ”

“ Marishka laughed.
"What is your name, my dear?" she asked.
"I am called Yeva—they say after the first woman who was born."
"Eve—of course. It becomes you well."
"You think so. Was she very beautiful?"
"Yes—the mother of all women."
"The ugly ones?"
"Yes. We cannot all be beautiful."
"It must be dreadful to be old and ugly like Zubeydeh."
As Marishka brought out brush and comb and a towel, Yeva ran quickly and procured a mirror—a small cheap affair with tawdry tinsel ornaments. ”

“ Marishka could look, but not for long, for in a moment would come the terrible down-grade and the white, leaping road before them, which held her eyes with fearful hypnotism. Death! What right had she to pray for her own safety, when her own lips had condemned Sophie Chotek? There was still a chance that she would reach Sarajevo in time. She had no thought of sleep. Weary as she was, the imminence of disaster at first fascinated—then enthralled her. ”

“ And yet Marishka did not fear Captain Goritz. There is a kind of feminine courage which no man can understand, that is not physical nor even mental, born perhaps of that mysterious relation which modern philosophy calls sex antagonism—a spiritual hardihood which deals in the metaphysics of emotion and pays no tribute to any form of materiality. Captain Goritz, whatever his quality, to Marishka was merely a man. ”

“ And so Marishka, with one last despairing glance in the direction of the two officers, permitted herself to be handed into the machine by Captain Goritz who, before the automobile departed, handed a piece of money to the girl who had done Marishka this service. The last glimpse that Marishka had of the police officers showed them standing side by side, their fingers at their caps. Her case was hopeless. She had no friend, it seemed, in all Hungary, and she abandoned herself to the depths of her despair. How could she have expected to cope with such a man as this? ”

“ The Archduke wavered a moment and then fell forward across the knees of the Duchess.
Of the mad moments which followed, Marishka was barely conscious. She was pushed roughly back into the turgid crowd and would have fallen had not an arm sustained her. Men seized the assassin and hurried him away. There were hoarse shouts, glimpses of soldiers, as the machine of death pushed its way through the mass of people, and always the strong arm sustained her, pushing her, leading her away into a street where there were fewer people and less noise.
"Come, Countess, he brave," Goritz was saying. ”

“ There are many roads to Vienna, Countess." And then, with an air of consideration, "I hope that loss of sleep is not wearing on you. Presently we shall get out and have something to eat."
"Thank you," said Marishka with a grateful glance.
She felt Captain Goritz's look upon her for a long moment after she had turned away. Marishka sighed gently. Her companion's gaze left her and he peered straight before him, frowning. All this she knew by her woman's sixth sense without even looking at him. Even a thinking machine must have its moments of aberration. ”

“ His Excellency has been in the street at the back of the house, but when the fighting began came up the rear stairway of the selamlik——"
"Goritz!" stammered Marishka in terror.
"But I have locked the upper door."
"He will come here, Yeva!"
"Excellency must go—if there is yet time."
"The garden!"
"No," said Renwick, looking about for a place of concealment. "I shall stay."
"It is death——" whispered Marishka.
But Yeva was resourceful. "The armor!" she whispered. "I have often hidden in it from Zubeydeh. Quickly, Excellency! It stands upon brackets in the wall." ”

“ He and his wife lived happily. Their greatest joy [Pg 217] was Marishka, a little girl so charming and so pretty that every one loved her on sight.
“Dear neighbor,” all the old women used to say to the child’s mother, “that girl of yours will never grow up. She’s far too wise for her years!”
But Marishka did very well. She grew up into a beautiful young woman and one day a prince saw her, fell in love with her, and married her. So the old godmother’s prophecy that Marishka would make a happy marriage was fulfilled.
THE GOLDEN DUCK THE STORY OF PRINCE RADUZ AND THE FAITHFUL LUDMILA ”

“ Renwick was thinking quickly. Marishka—their position—his duty—a way of escape—one thought crowded another in his mind. He glanced about through the foliage behind them and then rose to his feet.
"I must get back to Vienna, at once," he said hoarsely.
Marishka stood beside him, clinging to his arm.
"And I—I know not what to do. I could not look Her Highness in the face. But I too must go to Vienna. I am not versed in politics, but the secret that we share is terrible. It oppresses me. Austria—my country!" ”

“ The man who entered was tall and slender, with a hooked nose, heavy brows, and a beard streaked with white. He wore the turban and bright green belt which denoted the Moslem, and the fingers with which he touched brow, lips, and heart in salutation were covered with rings.
"Saläm 'alaikum," he muttered, bowing.
Marishka knew no reply to this and made none, waiting in some trepidation for him to proceed. He was a villainous looking creature, but comported himself with an air of some dignity. In a moment he spoke again in excellent German. ”

“ Marishka's cause, as a loyal Austrian's, was just, and she had not faltered in doing what she knew to be her duty, but the thought of seeking the Duchess now that she had betrayed her, required all of her courage. She had balked an ambitious woman, stultified all her efforts to advance the fortunes of her children, and had written her husband before the House of Habsburg a traitor to his Emperor and his country. ”

“ I beg of you——"
But he had held her by the hand and would not release her.
"I adore you—and you flout me—that is all that I know. Your indifference maddens me. Perhaps I am not as other men, and must not be judged by other standards than my own which are sufficient for myself as they should be sufficient for you. You know that I—I worship you—that by staying here I have forgotten my duty to my country at a time when I am most needed. Does that mean nothing to you? Can you be callous to a love like mine which lives only in your happiness and hangs upon your pleasure? I worship you, Marishka. ”

“ Marishka, much to Ena's chagrin, had sent no reply. The very thought of kindness from such a man as Goritz—a kindness which was to pay for Hugh's death and her favor, made a mockery of all the beauties of giving—a mockery, too, of her acceptance of them, whether tacitly or otherwise. A man who could kill without scruple, a woman-baiter, courteous that he might be cruel, tolerant that he might torment! ”

“ It seemed that grief and pain had already done their worst to that frail body. For whatever this Habsburg's failings, fear was not one of them. There was resolution too in the clenching of the freckled fist upon the chair arm and in his footsteps as he started up from his chair and walked the length of the room. Bowed though his shoulders were with the weight of his years, he was still a figure to respect—a personality. Marishka watched furtively, waiting for him to speak again as he strode back and forth, but his brows were deeply tangled in thought and his shoulders were more bent than ever. ”

“ The woman was delighted, and attired in a costume of soft white silk crepe, which she had fashioned in her convalescence from some posthumous finery that Ena had discovered, Marishka walked forth of her room down a stone stairway into the great hall of the castle; and so into the ancient courtyard where the flower garden was. She had expected Captain Goritz to join her, and in this surmise she was not mistaken, for she had culled an armful of blossoms which she sent to her room by Ena when the German appeared. ”

“ Whatever happens—here in the castle, the Austrian troops are all around us. Herr Windt, too. There is no escape for me unless the Russians come through. That is why I hope——"
Marishka put her arms around his shoulders quickly and kissed him on the lips.
"Then I, too, pray that they may come through," she whispered fervently.
"Marishka! I do not ask you to give up your allegiance——"
"No, Hugh. I give without asking. Belovèd, I want you to understand," she said solemnly. "Those that are your enemies are my enemies. You would have died for me—and I, can I do less for you?" ”

“ CHAPTER XXIII SCHLOSS SZOLNOK
The night and day which followed the terrible events in the house of the Beg of Rataj were like an evil dream to Marishka Strahni. She slept, she awoke, always to be hurried on by her relentless captors, too ill to offer resistance or any effort to delay them. Hugh Renwick was dead. All the other direful assurances as to her own fate were as nothing beside that dreadful fact. And Goritz—the man who sat beside her—Hugh's murderer! Fear—loathing—she seemed even too weak and ill for these, lying for the first part of their long journey, inert and helpless. ”

“ The elaborateness of the Ambassador's manner, the graces of Graf von Mendel, and Captain Goritz's now covert glances advised her that she was still armed with her woman's weapons. Marishka was young, but her two years in the life of the gayest court in Europe had sharpened her perceptions amazingly, but she knew that if beauty is a woman's letter of credit worth its face value with a man, it can also be a dangerous liability. ”

“ Meanwhile the machine went thundering on, the man at the wheel driving with a skill which excited admiration. At times the speed of the car seemed frightful, for it swerved dangerously at the frequent turns in the road, but Marishka clung desperately to the arm-rest to save herself from being thrown into the arms of Captain Goritz, aware of her impotence, but conscious, too, of a sense of exhilaration in the wildness of their pace, which seemed at any moment likely to throw both the car and its occupants into the ditch. ”

“ To Marishka he was still the head waiter. This was the twentieth century. No political secret could justify the imprisonment or death of a woman!... She shuddered a little, as she thought of the very death that had been planned by the employers of Herr Windt—Austrians—loyal Austrians he called them, of the same blood and lineage perhaps as herself. She had not yet succeeded in wholly believing it. There was some missing reason for the actions of this secret service agent, some motive which neither she nor Hugh Renwick had yet fathomed, which would explain her detention and his. ”

“ She laughed to hide her fears.
"All men are alike where a woman is concerned—"
"Will you try? I will be your slave—your servant. Within the castle you may come and go as you please. No one shall approach you without your permission. You see, I am not an exacting jailer. All I ask is the hope of your friendship, a glimpse of your returning smile, and such companionship as you care to give me. It is not much. Do I not deserve it? Bitte, think a little."
Marishka gasped and fought the impulse to run from him, for his face was very near her shoulder, his voice very close to her ear. ”

“ Over and over in her mind dinned the hoarse murmur of the crowd, "We are not murderers! No!" Who then——? Not the frail student with the smoking pistol ... the agent of others.... The eyes of Sophie Chotek haunted her—eyes that had looked so often into her own with kindness. She had seen terror in them, and then—the mad turmoil, the dust, the acrid smell of powder fumes, and the silent group of huddled figures in the machine!...
There were sounds of voices and of footsteps approaching, but Marishka could not move. She was prone, inert, helpless. ”

“ Together slowly they retraced their steps to the crypt, where they lighted the candle and listened again, and now, faintly above, they heard the sound of a shot.
"They have not won through yet, Marishka," he said. "My cause is Goritz's now. We must hold the gate."
"I am not afraid," she said. "We can still fight." ”

“ But she read him easily, a vile, blackmailing rogue who held no allegiance higher than what he got from it—a man who, for all his fine flow of talk, could be dangerous as well as unscrupulous. But Marishka met him fairly.
"I have taken a fancy to Yeva, Effendi," she said quietly. "She will tell you perhaps that I have already given her several trifles which she fancied. Perhaps I can do something to solve your problems. In my own country I am considered wealthy and I can be generous with those who treat me with kindness." ”

“ The anxieties of the night had made Marishka's senses keen. "The door!" she whispered. "The secret door by which you came!"
Renwick listened. In a brief lull in the commotion outside, he heard a slight sound, near and startlingly distinct like that of a rat in a partition. Then in the blackness of the room, a gray streak appeared, slowly widening. The door into the secret passage had opened, and the starlight from the loophole beyond now showed a dusky silhouette. ”