Humorous stories, American; Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“By George!” he said, fervently, “Aleck, you _are _great--the greatest
woman in the whole earth! I can't ever learn the whole size of you.
I can't ever learn the immeasurable deeps of you. Here I've been
considering myself qualified to criticize your game. _I!_ Why, if I had
stopped to think, I'd have known you had a lone hand up your sleeve.
Now, dear heart, I'm all red-hot impatience--tell me about it!”
The flattered and happy woman put her lips to his ear and whispered
a princely name. It made him catch his breath, it lit his face with
exultation.
“Land!” he said, “it's a stunning catch! He's got a gambling-hall, and
a graveyard, and a bishop, and a cathedral--all his very own. And all
gilt-edged five-hundred-per-cent. stock, every detail of it; the tidiest
little property in Europe; and that graveyard--it's the selectest in
the world: none but suicides admitted; _yes_, sir, and the free-list
suspended, too, _all _the time. There isn't much land in the
principality, but there's enough: eight hundred acres in the graveyard
and forty-two outside. It's a _sovereignty_--that's the main thing;
_land's_ nothing. There's plenty land, Sahara's drugged with it.”
Aleck glowed; she was profoundly happy. She said:
“Think of it, Sally--it is a family that has never married outside the
Royal and Imperial Houses of Europe: our grandchildren will sit upon
thrones!”
“True as you live, Aleck--and bear scepters, too; and handle them as
naturally and nonchantly as I handle a yardstick. It's a grand catch,
Aleck. He's corralled, is he? Can't get away? You didn't take him on a
margin?”
“No. Trust me for that. He's not a liability, he's an asset. So is the
other one.”
“Who is it, Aleck?”
“His Royal Highness
Sigismund-Siegfried-Lauenfeld-Dinkelspiel-Schwartzenberg Blutwurst,
Hereditary Grand Duke of Katzenyammer.”
“No! You can't mean it!”
“It's as true as I'm sitting here, I give you my word,” she answered.
His cup was full, and he hugged her to his heart with rapture, saying:
“How wonderful it all seems, and how beautiful! It's one of the
oldest and noblest of the three hundred and sixty-four ancient German
principalities, and one of the few that was allowed to retain its royal
estate when Bismarck got done trimming them. I know that farm, I've been
there. It's got a rope-walk and a candle-factory and an army. Standing
army. Infantry and cavalry. Three soldier and a horse. Aleck, it's been
a long wait, and full of heartbreak and hope deferred, but God knows I
am happy now. Happy, and grateful to you, my own, who have done it all.
When is it to be?”
“Next Sunday.”
“Good. And we'll want to do these weddings up in the very regalest style
that's going. It's properly due to the royal quality of the parties
of the first part. Now as I understand it, there is only one kind of
marriage that is sacred to royalty, exclusive to royalty: it's the
morganatic.”
“What do they call it that for, Sally?”
“I don't know; but anyway it's royal, and royal only.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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