Adventure, December 1914 — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

80 exactly like a dozen other envelopes) and called for her maid. “Marie!” Red-eyed, the maid appeared from be- hind a curtain, walking as if in her sleep and frightened by bad dreams. She yawned, and the Princess scowled at her. ‘“‘Have you never finished sleeping?” “Bah! Isn’t sleep like death? One lies in a frame—coffin or bed, no matter which— and thinks nothing—does nothing—useless —stupid. Are you stupid tonight, Marie?”’ ‘“Non, non, madame!”’ The maid seemed terrified. She shrunk away, until she seemed afraid to shrink farther. “Because I can help you to wake up, if necessary!” ‘Non, non, madame! ITamawake! Iam not stupid! What is it that I am to do? I am wide awake!”’ “Sit there!’ The Princess pointed to a chair at one end of her desk, and the maid sat on it, leaning both elbows in front of her. For a moment the Princess stared in a brown study at the white wall opposite, and any one who watched the maid at all closely might have seen that her eyes were never still; they searched the table inch by inch, missing nothing—-even counting the envel- opes that lay by the opened strong-box. “Write!” The maid seized a pen and looked for paper. The Princess lifted the big envel- opes, drew about a quire of paper out from underneath them and tossed it on the pile impatiently. The maid picked up the paper, and with it the top envelope. Of old, she had even been used as secre- tary when matters of great secrecy and im- port were in hand; for she was not supposed to understand them, and as a very general rule she did not. But an atmosphere of se- crecy breeds curiosity, and the Princess would have been surprised to know how many documents the maid had read and memorized; it had become almost a habit with her to secrete papers—study them— and put them back; and now that she loved Andry, habit seemed duty to her. She stole anything, on the merest chance that it might prove to have some bearing on his fate. Unlike her mistress, she could love con- structively, consistently, thoughtfully; like her mistress she dared run any risk for the Adventure sake of the man she loved; unlike her mis- tress she could love and serve without the faintest prospect of return; but she trembled as she thought of what would happen to her should the Princess catch her in the act of stealing papers. She knew that her whole usefulness—to the Princess, to herself, and Andry—depended on the reputation she enjoyed for stupid indifference in all matters except those concerning the Princess’ toilet. With deft fingers, now, she took dicta- tion, writing in longhand but so swiftly that the Princess scarcely had to pause. Princess spoke with her eyes on the wall in front—as if she were focusing the future— and she did not notice that Marie Mouquin had inserted carbon-paper underneath the sheet she wrote on. Sheet after sheet was filled. Sheet after sheet was laid on the blotter; but a carbon copy of each sheet fell on the maid’s lap, and in a moment when the Princess paused to think, shifting in her chair restlessly and glancing to the shuttered window, the sheets were rolled up and slipped into a stocking. Incident by incident, the Princess gave her version of North Persian history from the moment when Dick Anthony had landed on the Caspian shore until that hour. Move by move she planned ahead the marching of an army-corps, and the prep- arations that could be made in Persia in advance of it. The finished document was a masterpiece that a general of any army in the world might have folded up with pride; and as she folded it she laughed at the maid whose eyes were dim and red from lack of sleep. Her own blazed like twin jewels. ““Go!”? she said. “Sluggard! Go and sleep! You are like a snake; you eat, you sleep, you eat, you sleep! I wonder— snakes are treacherous—are you?” ‘“Non, non, madame!” said Marie Mou- quin, hurrying away. At dawn they brought word that the wires had been repaired. By that time Olga Karageorgovich had a message ready, written out in code; and hers was the first message that went through. It stated, after asking that the army corps be started on its crawling way, that a letter giving fuller and important details followed; and the let- ter started, one hour later, in the pocket of a man whose orders were to kill as many horses as he could by galloping. comicloool The . C©