The All-Story, March 1914 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

634 All this talk about her paregt’s noble prisoner was very exciting to her. It was the most unusual, thing in her life so far, and set her. imagination to work. She became a partizan in his behalf against neighborhood gossip and would lie awake nights, staring at the cobwebbed attic rafters overhead, trying to picture how the young noble- man might look—if he were handsome —how his voice might sound. She liked to think of him as more truly his father’s son and would tell herself that he, too, would have led the imperial troops on to glorious vic- tory had he stood, sword in hand, be- side old Marshal Reinhard on the field of Livno that day. When a girl of Hildegarde’s age and disposition begins to romanticize her inquisitiveness usually passes all the bounds of reason. The unrecog- nized yearnings of her maidenhood shaped themselves round the tragic fieure of the titled captive, and the turnkey’s daughter became obsessed with the idea that she must see him or go frantic. Innocent her musings were, but amorous. Her mind traveled no farther than the mere thought of elimpsing Count Tlorenz’s face. She told herself that that would satisfy her. These were indeed dreary days to milord there in the carcer, with no other diversions than lurid reminis- cences or the occasional companionship of the governor. He tried reading; became familiar with Heine, Goethe, Schiller, FE. A. T. Hoffmann, Wedekind, Grillparzer, Maeterlinck, and a score of others. They hardly interested him. Then milord undertook translating the poems of Charles Beaudelaire, but found his knowledge of both French and verse construction to be inade- quate. In a rage, he returned to the read- ing of literature, and for a time amused himself by mercilessly scan- ning the works of every exalted Ger- (To be continaed.) THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. man littcrateur for discrepancies —’ eratnmatical, historical, and phiesagiy ical. He compiled a list of five hundred: and forty-nine glaring incongrutties; from the works of Schiller alone, and. was not through with them. That night he burned in his fires; place the MSS. of six months’ accumus: lation and walked the floor like a caged: beast, cursing God and man in his a rious impotence. In all this time Count Florenz had never once given over his original ins tention to commit suicide. Within the first month of his incar+ ceration he attempted it three times unsuccessfully. The first time old Johann, the turne: key. found him hanging by a rope made of torn strips of bed-sheeting,. and cut him down before strangula- tion had hardly begun. The second time the governor took the carving-knife away ‘from him be fore milord could do more than point it at his breast. The third time Count Florenz had tried to scale the garden walls, in hope that the sentinels might see him esca- ping and shoot. Instead of that, he only broke his finger-nails in an inef- fectual attempt to clunb and was locked in lis room afterward on re stricted diet for several days. | Of course, any and all of these suicidal expedients could have been tried again, perhaps with greater suc cess, were it not that, after each dis« covery, the indignant governor would make milord promise not to attempt that particular trick again on the pain of being under constant surveillance. The alternative was, naturally, un- bearable to Count Florenz, who prot ised in each case and, as a man of honor, kept his word scrupulously, “And yet,” he kept crying to him self, ‘I have nothing to live for. Do they all think I can be made to do s0 when I do not want to? I shall yet find some means to die!” comiclbooks.com