Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

144 incredibly short space of a few days become her devoted slave. “What an awful little cad!” remarked the colonel, as we strode on, and, a mo- ment later, came out upon the tennis grounds, where we discovered the arch- duke and that delightful little old maid, Miss Munt, sitting together under the glow of a scarlet umbrella. “Hello! There they are!” exclaimed the colonel. ‘Excellent chap, the arch- duke. We were together in Simla ye-ars ago. Miss Munt and yourself are the only ones to whom I’ve told his identity, as he insists, as I told you, in traveling incognito under the name of Von Reisen.” “Of course, I understand,” I re- turned. “No one shall be the wiser on my account, I promise you.” “Goot morning!” shouted the arch- duke, as he caught sight of us approach- ing. “Hello! So here you are!” claimed the colonel. The archduke rose from his camp chair, which creaked under his big frame, and came forward heartily, with both hands outstretched in greeting, his round, florid, genial face wreathed in a good-natured smile, his blue eyes danc- ing, eyes that were young in contrast to his short-cropped, gray hair and mus- tache. He was even taller than the colonel, a heavy fellow with big hands and feet, and a charm of manner that captivated you the moment he smiled and spoke. “Do sit down, won’t you?” pleaded the cheery, little old maid. “I’m having quite all | can manage to keep Mr. von Reisen in a good humor. He’s fear- fully cross this morning. Come, con- fess,” she laughed. “Me!” i1oared his excellency. “Oh, Miss Munt! Am I as bod as dot? Dot is onfair! Oh, yes! Exactly, dot is on- fair!” he repeated in his broken Eng- lish, though his French was as fluent as a Parisian’s. “Could I effer be in bad humor, when I haf de bleasure to be in company of so charming a lady?’ he added graciously, with a low bow, plant- ing a heavy hand over his heart. “Come—sit!” he insisted, gripping exX- AINSLEEB’S with his big hands the backs of two va- cant camp stools, and planting them be- fore us. Indeed, he seemed more like a good-natured, overgrown boy than an august personage, with the power and right of way next to an emperor. It is safe to say that few had lived as lively a pace as “Mr. von Reisen.” He had sown several crops of wild oats in his lifé in Paris and Monte Carlo, London and Petersburg, with incidental transplantings in the season at Dinard and Biarritz. For years he had even astonished Monte Carlo by his ex- travagant life and his high play—losing and winning fortunes at baccarat, so the colonel told me, always with that happy- go-lucky geniality and generosity which carried him safely through his gaming, his escapades, and his love affairs. He had become a philosopher at last. The turn of a card for a fortune no longer thrilled him; he had even lost his passion for racing and beautiful women. Society he abhorred. He now smoked little, one enormous cigar after dinner, and drank less, one gigantic whisky and soda with the cigar, and no more. He had had enough of the feverish life; much of which his excellency told me . himself, and the rest the colonel con- fided to me, and it was not at all sur- prising to either of us that the only woman whose companionship he pre- ferred and was seen in was Miss Munt’s. There existed an innocent, clean, and delicate camaraderie between these two. She walked with him, joked with him, teased him in her kindly way, played dominos with him for points—for he re- fused to play with any one for money, far less with poor, little Miss Munt— taught him a new game of solitaire, much of the English language that had escaped him, and gave him withal more than one bit of motherly advice. What a charming, little old maid! Very small, very thin, very bright, naturally not at all good looking; and yet, when you looked into her snappy, gray eyes, and saw all the goodness in them, and how small they were to re- flect her big heart, and all the cheer and unselfishness she had stored around her (C@ AMUC DOOLK (C@