Beverly of Graustark | Page 2

a sturdy, courageous race. From the faraway century
when they fought themselves clear of the Tartar yoke, to this very hour,

they have been warriors of might and valor. The boundaries of their
tiny domain were kept inviolate for hundreds of years, and but one
victorious foe had come down to lay siege to Edelweiss, the capital.
Axphain, a powerful principality in the north, had conquered Graustark
in the latter part of the nineteenth century, but only after a bitter war in
which starvation and famine proved far more destructive than the arms
of the victors. The treaty of peace and the indemnity that fell to the lot
of vanquished Graustark have been discoursed upon at length in at least
one history.
Those who have followed that history must know, of course, that the
reigning princess, Yetive, was married to a young American at the very
tag-end of the nineteenth century. This admirable couple met in quite
romantic fashion while the young sovereign was traveling incognito
through the United States of America. The American, a splendid fellow
named Lorry, was so persistent in the subsequent attack upon her heart,
that all ancestral prejudices were swept away and she became his bride
with the full consent of her entranced subjects. The manner in which he
wooed and won this young and adorable ruler forms a very attractive
chapter in romance, although unmentioned in history. This being the
tale of another day, it is not timely to dwell upon the interesting events
which led up to the marriage of the Princess Yetive to Grenfall Lorry.
Suffice it to say that Lorry won his bride against all wishes and odds
and at the same time won an endless love and esteem from the people
of the little kingdom among the eastern hills Two years have passed
since that notable wedding in Edelweiss.
Lorry and his wife, the princess, made their home in Washington, but
spent a few months of each year in Edelweiss. During the periods spent
in Washington and in travel, her affairs in Graustark were in the hands
of a capable, austere old diplomat--her uncle, Count Caspar Halfont.
Princess Volga reigned as regent over the principality of Axphain. To
the south lay the principality of Dawsbergen, ruled by young Prince
Dantan, whose half brother, the deposed Prince Gabriel, had been for
two years a prisoner in Graustark, the convicted assassin of Prince
Lorenz, of Axphain, one time suitor for the hand of Yetive.

It was after the second visit of the Lorrys to Edelweiss that a serious
turn of affairs presented itself. Gabriel had succeeded in escaping from
his dungeon. His friends in Dawsbergen stirred up a revolution and
Dantan was driven from the throne at Serros. On the arrival of Gabriel
at the capital, the army of Dawsbergen espoused the cause of the Prince
it had spurned and, three days after his escape, he was on his throne,
defying Yetive and offering a price for the head of the unfortunate
Dantan, now a fugitive in the hills along the Graustark frontier.

CHAPTER II
BEVERLY CALHOUN
Major George Calhoun was a member of Congress from one of the
southern states. His forefathers had represented the same
commonwealth, and so, it was likely, would his descendants, if there is
virtue in the fitness of things and the heredity of love. While intrepid
frontiersmen were opening the trails through the fertile wilds west of
the Alleghanies, a strong branch of the Calhoun family followed close
in their footsteps. The major's great-grandfather saw the glories and the
possibilities of the new territory. He struck boldly westward from the
old revolutionary grounds, abandoning the luxuries and traditions of the
Carolinas for a fresh, wild life of promise. His sons and daughters
became solid stones in the foundation of a commonwealth, and his
grandchildren are still at work on the structure. State and national
legislatures had known the Calhouns from the beginning. Battlefields
had tested their valor, and drawing-rooms had proved their gentility.
Major Calhoun had fought with Stonewall Jackson and won his
spurs--and at the same time the heart and hand of Betty Haswell, the
staunchest Confederate who ever made flags, bandages and prayers for
the boys in gray. When the reconstruction came he went to Congress
and later on became prominent in the United States consular service,
for years holding an important European post. Congress claimed him
once more in the early '90s, and there he is at this very time.

Everybody in Washington's social and diplomatic circles admired the
beautiful Beverly Calhoun. According to his own loving term of
identification, she was the major's "youngest." The fair southerner had
seen two seasons in the nation's capital. Cupid, standing directly in
front of her, had shot his darts ruthlessly and resistlessly into the
passing hosts, and