Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

A DASH FOR A THRONE. 73 when the smash came. Happily, before that misfortune, my father and mother were both dead. We were not puritans in those days, and there were some wild times. The last of these in which I took a part finished up on the imperial yacht; and a wild enough time it was. I had drunk much more freely than the rest—there were only some half dozen of us altogether—and then being a quarrelsome, hot headed fool, I took fire at some words that fell from the prince, and gave him the lie direct. Exactly what happened I don’t clearly remember; but I know that he flung his wine right at my face, and I, forgetting entirely that he was at once my future emperor and my commanding officer, clenched my fist and struck him a violent blow in the face, which knocked him down. He hit his head in falling and lay still as death. We thought at first he was dead. What followed can be imagined. I cannot describe it. It sobered the lot of us; and our relief when we found he was not dead, but only stunned, cannot be put tn words. He was lifted up and laid on the table, his face all ghastly gray white, save for the mark of my blow on the cheek, a sight I shall never forget. When the doctor came we told him the prince had had an ugly fall, and as soon as he showed signs of coming round, I left and went off to my ship, in a condition of pitiable consternation and remorse. I nearly shot myself that night. I took out the revolver twice, and laid it between my teeth, and was only stopped by the conssderation that if I did it my suicide would be connected with the affair, and some garbled account of the brawl and of what was behind it, would leak out. The next day old Count von Augener, who had been telegraphed for, came to my cabin. He hated me, as he had hated my father, and I knew it. The interview was brief enough, and he sounded the keynote in the sen- tence with which he opened it. “You are still alive, lieutenant?” he said, bending on me a piercing look from under his shaggy, beetling brows. ‘Say what you have to say, and be good enough to keep from taunts,” I answered; and then told him the thought that alone had stopped me from shooting myself. He listened in silence, and at the close nodded. * You. have enough wit when the wine’s out—and you understand what you have done. Were you other than you are, you would be tried by court martial and shot. But your act is worse than that of a mutineerf—you are a coward ’’—I started to my feet —‘“ because you have struck a man you know cannot demand satisfaction.” I sank again into my chair and covered my face in shame, for the taunt was true. But to have it thus flung at me ruthlessly was worse than a red hot brand plunged into my flesh. The old man stopped and looked at me, pleased that he had tortured me. “There is but one course open to you. You know that?” “ T know it,” I answered sullenly. GOGO CO