Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

A CROWN His face went white. His blue eyes were like a thunderstorm. ‘““T am aware, milady, that I am already under financial obligations to you—such as I can never repay, if you repent of your bargain.” : “It is hardly for you to suggest that!” I flashed. I was half out of my mind. He jumped to his feet and walked storm- ily to the window and out on to the bal- cony. When he came back his face was set in lines of the most cynical politeness. “You will not tell me in what way I have displeased you?” he asked. His manner infuriated me. My temper was absolutely out of hand. I was shaking like a leaf. “I do not like to be made a fool of,” I said. The words rushed out in spite of my will. “I agree that ours is a business contract. But I will not suffer you to pa- rade other women under my nose.” The polished French language made it sound so bitter, so acrimonious. And, spok- en by a woman to a man, it was impossibly vulgar. At least, that was what the king’s face conveyed to me. “So that is it!” he said, and his smile made me more furious than ever. There was a touch of tolerance in it, as if he must perforce take account ef my curious preju- dices. about me?” “Tt is not necessary for anybody to tell me,” I retorted. “I have eyes.” “You also have a very bad temper,” he put in. “ If you were calm, I do not think you would say such things.” His quietness, his slightly amused smile robbed me of every shred of self-control. “ You mean you thought I hadn’t enough spirit,” I raged. ‘‘ You looked upon me as a dull, boring, wooden girl who hap- pened to have enough money to set you on your feet again. I was to be a queen and that was supposed to:be enough for me. A good bargain! To you I am just a handi- cap—a heavy one, an uninteresting lump, who can’t even dance!” I was suddenly overcome by my feelings. Breaking into bitter tears, I dashed out onto the balcony. “Who has been telling you things © FOR SALE. 711 In the room behind me there was silence. I fought savagely with my emotion, and went back. The room was empty. The king had gone. I dined in my own rooms that night, all alone. At least, I had dinner served. I could hardly touch a mouthful. half through the night. In the morning I was a wreck, and it was not until noon that I dared show myself to Bunch. I found the Princess de Chanterelle with her. I was sure she looked at me very curi- ously. Had King Peter told her what had passed between us? The very thought froze me. I did not mention the king. Neither did she until just before she was going, when she said lightly: ‘His indefatigable majesty is going to the big public ball at the Jetée Promenade at Nice to-night. So my brother tells me. The king hasn’t confided his intention to me,” “Are you going?” IT asked. “Oh, dear, no! It isn’t the kind of dance for us, my dear Elizabeth. Perhaps you haven’t heard of them. They are very free and easy. The whole town turns out. I don’t think the king would care for our company at all. It’s the kind of thing he adores—Bohemian and rather rowdy. I suppose it’s only natural. And nobody has the least idea who he is.” She gave me a knowing look, as if imply- ing that, of course, I should have to get used to these little idiosyncrasies of my royal spouse. All the rest of the day I was restless. I had no special engagement and saw nobody. Bunch was still keeping her rooms. I heard nothing from King Peter. Toward evening all my restlessness and misery crystallized into one longing so in- tense that it was not to be subdued. To go to the ball at the Jetée Promenade at Nice. To be Betty Fane once more. To dance with King Peter. To hear the voice that never spoke to Elizabeth Cleve- land. To meet him on equal terms again— young man and girl, loving life and laughter and music—and each other. Oh, wonderful oO CconmmiclbooOokS.e© I cried