Manasseh | Page 7

Tell me, now, how can the
princess make sure of outwitting her foes, and so escape the horrible
fate of being buried alive?"
"She can turn Protestant, and then the Church of Rome will have no
claim whatever on her."
"Very good, but how about the million florins left her as a good
Catholic by the bishop?"
Manasseh Adorjan crumbled his cigar in his fingers. "If the princess
has a woman's heart in her bosom," he declared, "she will throw her
million away in return for the love of a true man."
CHAPTER III.
AN INTRUDER EXPELLED.
Meanwhile the train had reached another station, a junction where a
halt was made for refreshments, pending the arrival of a connecting

train. The advocate was hungry, and accordingly made his way to the
dining-room, being first warned by his companion to use despatch, as
otherwise, on returning to the ladies, he might find his compartment
filled.
"And what will you do meantime?" asked Gabriel.
"I have my sketch-book with me," replied Manasseh, "and I am going
to draw the view from my perch up here."
"Ah, I did not know you were an artist."
"Yes, I am an artist, and nothing more."
Upon the arrival of the connecting train and the ensuing scramble for
seats, the ladies of our little party felt some anxiety lest their privacy
should be rudely broken in upon by unwelcome strangers. Princess
Cagliari bent forward and looked down the platform, but immediately
drew back again. Too late, however; she had been seen; and a moment
afterward a young man, of sleek and comely appearance, immaculately
dressed, and carrying in one hand a small cane whose peculiar head
betrayed the fact that it concealed a rapier, sprang lightly on the
foot-board and entered the compartment.
"Ah, what an unexpected pleasure, Princess!" he exclaimed by way of
greeting, lifting his hat and appropriating the corner seat opposite her.
"Pardon me," said Blanka, "but that seat is engaged. The gentleman
who is with us--"
"Why, then, didn't he leave something--coat, or umbrella, or
hand-bag--in proof of his claim to the seat?" interrupted the intruder.
"The seat is now mine by railway usage, and I cannot deny myself the
pleasure of sitting opposite you, my dear princess."
Blanka controlled her indignation as best she could, but her companion
felt called upon to come to her aid with an energetic remonstrance.

"Mr. Vajdar," said she, severely, "you should know what is expected of
a gentleman in his conduct toward a lady. You are well aware that the
princess cannot endure your presence, nor are you ignorant of the
reason."
The handsome young man drew a gilt pasteboard box from his side
pocket, removed the cover, and offered the contents to the last speaker.
"Madam Dormandy, you are fond of sweets. Permit me to solicit your
acceptance of these caramels. They are freshly made, and are really
excellent."
But Madam Dormandy turned her back disdainfully on the
peace-offering and looked anxiously out of the window. "Where can
Mr. Zimandy be all this time?" she murmured, impatiently.
"How long will you continue to dog my steps?" asked the princess,
addressing the intruder in a voice that trembled with passion.
"Only to the grave," was the smiling reply; "there we shall
separate--you to enter the gates of paradise, where I despair of gaining
admission."
"But what reason have you for wishing my ruin?"
"Because you yourself will have it so. Have I ever made any secret of
my designs or of my motives?"
"Are you determined to make me leave this compartment?"
"You would gain nothing by so doing," was Vajdar's cool retort. "I
could not possibly forego the pleasure of your company, in whatever
way you might choose to continue your journey."
"What is your purpose in all this?" demanded Blanka.
"To make you either as happy as a man can make a woman, or as
wretched as only the devil himself can render a human being."
"I defy you to do either."

"Futile defiance! The game is in my hands, and I can make you as one
buried alive."
"God will never allow such an iniquity!" cried the princess.
"Ah, my dear madam, you forget that we are on our way to Rome,
where there are churches by the score, but no God."
Blanka shuddered in spite of herself, and drew her shawl more closely
about her, while her foe crossed one leg over the other and smiled
self-complacently.
The warning cry "partenza!" sounded along the platform, and the
ladies' escort came running in alarm from the dining-room and sought
his compartment.
"Have I your seat, sir?" coolly inquired Benjamin Vajdar of the man
who had so lately promised to wring his neck.
"Oh, no, certainly not," mumbled the doughty advocate, in considerable
surprise and confusion,