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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 9, 1922)
The Princess Dehra BY JOHN REED SCOTT. Copyright. 1908. by John Rood Scott The archduke reflected a mom ent. ‘‘1 can give you his exact words: ‘Do you tiiin,’ be said, ‘that I, who iiave been the heir presumptive since the instant of my birth, almost, will calmly step aside and permit you to take my placet Do you fancy for an in atant that the people of Valeria would have a foreigner for king? Ano cvenif old Frederick were to become so infatuated with yen that he would restore you to lingo's place in the line of suc cession, do you imagine that the bouse of nobles would hesitate to annul it the instant he died? ' When lie had finished. Dehra's finger.: were healing a tattoo on Ihc chair’s arm, and her eyes were snapping—as once or twice he had. seen Frederick’s snap. “And. I suppose you never told the king?” idle exclaimed. “Naturally not.” “Of course, of course,” with a toss of the handsome head. “That’s a man’s way—his silly, senseless way—never tell tales about a rival. And as a result, sec what a mess you have made. Had you informed the king, he instantly would have proclaimed you as his heir and then dis graced Lotzeu publicly and sent him into exile. And you would now be his successor, without a shadow of opposition.” Armand subdued a r.-nilc. “You don’t understand, Debra-— —“he begau. Quite rignt, sue cm in; “quite right.; I don’t. Why did n’t you tel! met 1 would have told I Tie King, you may be sure.” “Of course you would, little woman; that’s .just the reason 1 didn’t tell you.” She shrugged her shoulders, and the tattoo began afresh. “I’ve no patience with such nonsense,” she declared; “Lot zen deserved no gentlemanly con sideration ; he would have shown none to you; and besides, it was your duty to your King and your House to uphold the Laws of the Dalbergs and to prevent any at tempt to violate them.” “I am very much afraid that lately, between Lotzen and my self, the laws of the Dalbergs have been sadly slighted.” His bantering jarred upon her. “To me, Armand,” she answered gravely, “our Laws are holy. For almost a thousand years they have been our unchallenged rule of governance. I can under stand why, to you, they have no sacredriess and no sentiment; but Lotzen has been horn and bred tinder them, and should honor them with his life—and more especially as they alone made him the Heir Presumptive. But for the decree of the first l)al hiTg king, four hundred years ago, l would be the Queeiiregnant of Valeria.” “ It’s a pity, a crying pity 1” he exclaimed. She looked down at him with shining eyes. “No, dear, it is n’t; once 1 thought it was; but now 1 ’m quite content to be Queen-consort.” lie took both her hands and held them between his own. “That, dear, is what makes it possible, and worth the struggle; and it Va'.eria'tloes accept me as its King, it will he solely for love of you, and to get you for its Queen.” A smile of satisfaction crossed her face. ‘ I hope the people do love me,” she said. “I would like to feel 1 may have helped you, even a little.” “A little! but for you, my princess, I’d go Iwek to America an.I leave the way clear for Lot yon. »Sfie laughed softly. “No, no, Arrnand, you would do nothing of the sort. A Dal berg never fcn.i from duty —and least of all t li ■* Dal berg whom God has made in the image of the greatest of them all.” 11* glanced in the tall mirror act- »ss the room, lie was wear ing the dress uniform of the lied ll'i/'ars (who bad been inspect ed immediately before the Foot Guards; and lie, as titular Col onel, bad led them in the march 1\V), and there was no denying he made a handsome figure, in the brilliant tunic and black, fur bound doblman, his Orders sparkling, his sword across bis knees. She put her head close beside his and smiled at him in the mir ror. “Henry the Great was not at all bad looking,’’ she said. He smiled back at her. “But with a beastly bad temper, at times. I’m told.’’ 4 “I'm not afraid—I mean his wife wasn’t afraid; tradition is, she managed him very skil fully.” “Doubtless,” he agreed; “any clever woman can manage a man if she takes the trouble to try.” “And shall I try, Armand?” "Try!” he chuckled; “you couldn’t help trying; man tam ing is your natural avocation. By all means, manage me—only, don’t let me know it.” “i’ll not,” she laughed—“the King never—“and she straight ened sharply. “I forget, dear, I forgot!” And sh? got up sud denly, and went over to the window. Nor did he follow her; but waited silently, knowing well it was no time for even him to intrude. After a while she came slowly back to him, a wistfully sad look in her eyes. And as he met her she gave him both her hands. “1 shall never he anything but a thoughtless child, Armand,” she said, with a wan, little smile. “So he kind to me, dear—and don’t forget.” He drew her arms about, his neck. “Let us always be child ren to each other,” lie answered, “forgetting, when together, 4mt the joy of living, the pleasures of to-day, the anticipations of to morrow.” She shook her head. “A woman is alwuys a child in love,” she said; “it’s the man who grows into maturity, and sobers with ngc.” He knew quite well she was right, and for the moment he had no words to answer; arid she un derstood and helped him. “Hut this is no time for either of us to be children,” she went on; “there is work to do and plans to be arranged.” She drew a chair close to the table and, resting boll) arms upon it, looked up at the Archduke expectantly. “What is first?” He hesitated. “Come, dear,” she said; “Frederick was my father and my dearest friend, but there re mains for him now only the last sad offices the living do the dead; we will do them; but we also do what he has decreed. We will seat you in his place, and confound Lotzen and his satellites.” He took her hand and gravely raised it to his lips. “ You are a rare woman, Deh ra,” he said, “a rare woman. No man can reach your level, nor understand the beauty of your faith, the meaning of your love. Yet, at least, avi 11 l try to do you honor and to give you truth.” She drew him down and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You do not know the Dal berg women, dear,” she said— “to them the King is next to God—and the line that separates is very narrow.” “Hut I’m not yet the King,” he protested. “You’ve been king, in fact, since the moment Frederick died. With us, the tenet still obtains in all its ancient strength; the throne is never vacant.” “So it’s Lotzen or 1, and to morrow the book will decide.” “Yes,” she agreed; “to-mor row the Hook will decide lor the Nation; but wo know it will be you.” “Not exactly,” lie smiled; “we think we know; we can’t be sure until we see the decree.” “1 have no doubt,” she av erred, “my father’s words can bear but one construction.” “It would seem so—yet I’ve long learned that, in this life, it’s the certain things that usually are lost.” She sprang up. “Why not settle it at once—let us send for the book;.of course it is at the palace—it was there lust night.” He shook his head decisively. “No dear, no; believe me it is not wise now for either of us to touch the hook. It were best that it be opened only by the prime minister in presence of the royal council. We must give I.otr.cn no reason to cry for gcry.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Small good would it do him, as against Frederick’s writing and my testimony. However, we can wait—the council meets in the morning, I assume?” “Yes; at 10 o’clock, at the palace.” She looked up quickly. “The key?” she asked; “it was al ways on his watch chain—have you got it?”" “No.” said he; “I never thought of It.” She rang the bell and sent for the chamberlain. “Bring me King Frederick's watch, and the orders he was wearing,” she said. When they came she handed the orders to Arrnand. . ,H .“Thgy are yours now, dear,” she said. She took the watch and held up the chain, from the end of which hung the small, an tique key of Uie brass bound box, in which Ihe book of laws had been kept for centuries that now reached back to tradition. She contemplated, for a moment, the swaying bit of gold and bronze, then loosed it from the ring. “This also is yours, sire,” she said, and proffered it to him. But he declined. “Tomor row,” he said. “And in the meantime?” “ff Count Epping is still in the castle, we will let him hold it.” * The princess nodded in approv al. “Doubtless that is wiser,” she said, “though quite unprece dented; none but the king ever holds that key, save when he rides to war.” “We are dealing with a situ ation that has no precedents,” he smiled; “we must make some.” As he went toward the bell, a servant entered with a card. “Admit him,” he said . . “It is Epping,” he explancd. The prime minister of Valera was one of those extraordinary exceptions that occassionally oc cur in public officials; he had on purpose in life but to serve his king. Without regard to his own private ends or personal ambi tion, he had administered his office for a generation, and Frederick trusted him as few monarchs ev*tr trusted a power ful subject. To the nation, he was honesty and justice inear . nate, and only the king and the princess royal excelled him in popularity and respect. Seventy years had passed over the tall and slender figure, leaving a crown of silver above the pale, lean face, with its tight-shut mouth, high check bones and faded blue eyes; but they had brought no stoop to the shoul ders, nor feebleness to the step, nor dullness to the brain. lie saluted Armand with for mal dgnity; then bent over Debra’s hand, silently and long —and when he rose a tear was trembling on his lashes. He dashed it away impatiently and turned to the archduke. “Sire,” he said—and Armand, in sheer surprise, made no ob jection—“I have brought the proclamation announcing his late majesty’s death and your ac cession. It should be published® in the morning. Will it please you to sign it now?” There are moments in life so sharp with emotion that they cut into one's memory like a sculp tor’s tool, and. ever after, stand clear lined and cameoed against the blurred background of com monplace existence. Such was the moment at the palace when Frederick had handed him the patents of an archduke, and such now was this. “Sire!” the word was pounding in his brain. “Sire!” he, who, less than a year ago, was but a major in the American army; “Sire”—he— king of Valera! Then, through the mirage, he saw Dehra’s smiling face, and he awoke suddenly to consciousness and the need for speech, and for immediate decision. Should he sign the proclamation on the chance that the decree was in his favor, and that he was, in truth, the king? He hesitated just an instant—tempted by his own de sires and by the eager eves of the fair woman before him; then he straightened his shoulders and chose Hie way of prudenee. He waved the prime minister to a chair. “Your pardon, rnv lord,” he said; “your form of address was so new and unexpected, it for the moment bound my tongue.” The old man bowed. ”1 think I understand, Sire,” lie said, with a smile that, for an instant, softened amazingly his stern faee. “Yet, believe me, one says it to you very naturally”—and his glance strayed deliberately to the wall opposite, where hung a small copy of the Great Henry’s portrait in the uniform of the l\ed Huzzars. “It is very won derful,” he commented;—“and 1 fancy it won you instant favor and, even now, may be, makes us willing to accept you as our king. Sometimes, your majes ty, sentiment dominates even a nation.” “Then I trust sentiment will be content with the physical re semblance and not examine the idol too closely.” The count smiled again; thia time rather “The first duf}’ to look like one/’ lie sentiment demands nothing else/’ and, with placicf insisf enee, he laid the proclamation on the table beside Armand. The picked it up and read it—and put it down. “My lord,” he said, “I prefer not to exercise any prerogative of kingship until the royal coun cil has exanfined the book of laws and confirmed my title under the decrees.” The faded blue eyes looked at him contemplatively. ” I assumed there was no ques tion as to the succession,” he re marked. “Nor did I mearr to intijnate jthere was,” Armand answered. “Then, with all respect, Sire, 1 see no reason why you should not sign the proclamation.” Armand shook his head. “May be I am foolish,” he said; “but I will not assume the govern ment until after the council to morrow—it will do no harm to delay the proclamation for a few hours. And, in the interim, you will oblige her royal highness and me by keeping this key. which she removed from King Frederick’s watc hchain, but a moment before you came.” 1 he count nodded and took the key. “I recognize it,” he replied. “I know the lock it opens.” “Good,” said Armand;-“the box ;-n at the palace, and doubt less you also know what it con tains. For reasons you may easily appreciate, I desire to avoid any imputation that the hook has been touched since his majesty s demise. You will pro duce this key at the meeting to morrow, explaining how and where you got it; and then, in the presence of the council, I shall open the box and if, by the laws of the Dalbergs, I am hefld of the house, I will eater into my heritage and try to keep it.” The prime minister* got up; gladness in his heart, 1 hough his face was quite impassive, lie had come in doubt and misgiv ing; he was easy now—here was a man who led, a man to be served t he asked no more—he I was content. “I understand,” lie said; “the proclamation can wait;” then he drew himself to his full height. “God save your majesty” he ended. (To Be Continue^ Next Week) RUSSIAN FAMINE PERSIST3. WHAT with domestic politics, the tariff controversy, the Daugherty ruling on ships and liquor, the Legion convention, the turn of events In the Near East, the Lloyd George resignation, and count less other matters to distract us, we are apt to forget that famine condi tions still persist in Russia, and that the coming winter promises to wit ness as much horror and suffering among the poor peasants as did this last. Murray S. Kenworthy, of the Quaker relief committee, an organ ization which has been doing admir able work in the stricken areas, drew a gloomy picture of the out look in a recent address in Boston. Mr. Kenworthy strove to correct the eiToneous impression which seems to be widespread in this country that the worst of the faminc is over. He went so far as to de clare that unless sufficient relief is sent the coming winter will-*e even worse than the last. He explained that the Russian people have been told to sow all the grain they could get and ro roly noon America for food. He asserted that practically all of the resources of the peasantry —food, wool, clothing and cattle— had disappeared. Those persons who fear that the bo'.shevists will seize for their own purpose the relief supplies sent to Russia should be reassured by Mr. Kenworthy's word: “We do not be ! lieve that the present regime in Rus j sia is responsible for the conditio.-. I of the people in that country. There may be those who think that by re lieving the distress of starving thou sands we are supplying the sinews of war, but we do not feel that way.” And he went on to say that the pres ent government has given all kinds of help to the relief work, that offi cials have always been courteous, and that specially equipped trains have been placed at the disposal ot the workers. Americans may be proud of their record in the giving of relief. Con i gress voted $20,000,000 for the pur i chase of grain for the starving Rus | slans, a figure far above that ex ! pended by any other government. Besides, American private charitable agencies have given other millions Yet, as Mr. Kenworthy shows, much remains to be done. After famine conditions are alleviated money will be needed for buying cattle, horses, farm machinery and seed grain. Al though our purses are already sadly drained, it is difficult for one of humane Instincts to remain deaf to ' the appeals ot dying humanity. Try these Bakers’ Raisin Pies —save baking at home THERE are luscious rais in pies just around the corner, at your grocer’s or a bake shop. Baked to a turn—a flaky crust filled with tender, tempting raisins, the rich juice forming a delicious sauce. Once try tnese pies that master bakers bake fresh daily in your city and'you’ll never take the trouble afterwards to make raisin pies at home. Get a pie now and let your men folks taste it. 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