English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
"Then I must add that I am commissioned, if necessary, to convey your
Royal Highness to Glottenberg."
"To convey me?"
I bowed.
"You dare to threaten me?"
"I follow my instructions. Will you come, madame, or----"
"Well?"
"Will you be taken?"
I was not surprised at her vexation. Dumergue had, in his haste, called
her "a little devil." She looked it then.
"You mean," she asked slowly, "that you will use force?"
I bowed.
"Then I yield," she said, after a pause.
I called the maid, and told her to order the carriage in five minutes.
The silence was unbroken till it came round. The princess went into her
room, and returned in cloak and hat, carrying a large muff. She was
smiling.
"Ah, Mr. Jason, what can a woman do, against men? I am ready. We will go
alone. The servants can follow."
I handed her into the coach, ordering the coachman to drive fast. He was
the only man with us, and we were alone inside.
I began, perhaps stupidly, to apologize for my peremptory conduct. The
princess smiled amiably.
"I like a man of resolution," she said, edging, I thought, a trifle
nearer me, her hands nestling in her muff.
Apparently she was going to try the effect of amiability. I was prepared
for this. She would not tempt me in that way.
"Your Royal Highness is most forgiving."
"Oh, that is my way," she answered, with the kindest possible glance,
and she came nearer still.
"You are a most generous foe."
She turned to me with a dazzling smile.
"Don't say _foe_," she said, with a pretty lingering on the last word.
And as she said it, I felt a knife driven hard into my ribs, and the
muff dropped to the ground.
"God in heaven!" I cried.
The princess flung herself into the corner of the carriage.
"Ha--ha--ha! Ha--ha--ha!" she laughed, merrily, musically, fiendishly.
I tried to clutch her; I believe I should have killed her, I was half
mad. But the blood was oozing fast from the wound--only the knife itself
held my life in. Things danced before my eyes, and my hands fell on my
lap.
The carriage stopped, the door opened, and the coachman appeared. It was
all like a dream to me.
"Take his feet," said the princess. The man obeyed, and between them
they lifted, or, rather, hauled and pushed, me out of the carriage, and
laid me by the roadside. I was almost in a faint, and the last thing I
was conscious of was a pretty, mocking mouth, which said:
"Won't you escort me, Mr. Jason?"--and then added to the coachman, "To
Glottenberg--quick!"
I did not die. I was picked up by some good folk, and well tended.
Dumergue arrived and looked after me, and in a couple of weeks I was on
my legs.
"Now for Glottenberg!" said I.
Dumergue shook his head.
"You won't be admitted to the town."
"Not admitted!"
"No. They have made it up--for the time. There must be no scandal. Come,
Jason; surely you see that?"
"She tried to murder me."
"Oh, quite, quite!" said he. "But you can't prosecute her."
"And I am to be turned adrift by the prince?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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