The Guns of Europe | Page 7

the mood did not endure long. He strolled presently upon the terraces and then back to ward the king's palace, drawn there by a great shout ing.
As he approached the building he became conscious that an event of interest was occurring. A huge crowd had gathered, and the youth of it was demon strating with energy, cheering and breaking soon into national songs.
John pressed into the edge of the crowd, eager to know what it was all about, but not yet able to see over the heads of the close ranks in front of him. "What is it? What is it? he asked of several, but they merely shrugged their shoulders, unable to understand English.
John was angry at himself once more for knowing nothing of German. The whole life of a nation flowed past him, and all of it was mysterious, merely because he did not have that little trick of tongue. He caught sight at last of a man in an automobile that moved very slowly in the heart of the crowd, the people fairly pressed against the body of the machine. It was obvi ous that the stranger furnished the occasion for the cheering and the songs, and John repeated his questions, hoping that he would ultimately encounter some one in this benighted multitude who understood English.
His hope was not in vain. A man told him that it was the King of Saxony returning to his capital and palace. John then drew away in some distaste. He did not see why the whole population of a city, even though they were monarchists, should go wild over the coming home of a sovereign. Doubtless the King of Saxony, who was not so young, had come home thousands of times before, and there must be something servile in a people who made such an old story an occasion for a sort of worship.
He pushed his way out of the crowd and returned to the terrace. But the noise of the shouting and the singing reached him there. Now it was mostly singing, and it showed uncommon fervor. John shrugged his shoulders. He liked such an unreasonable display less than ever, and walked far along the river, until no sound from the crowd reached him.
When he returned toward the hotel everybody had gone, save a few policemen, and John hoped that the king was not only in his palace, but was sound alseep. It must be a great tax upon Saxon energy to demon strate so heavily every time he came back to the palace, perhaps from nothing more than a drive.
He found that Mr. Anson, having exhausted the newspapers, had gone to his room, and pleasantly weary in both body and mind, he sought his own bed.
CHAPTER II
THE THUNDERBOLT
JOHN and Mr. Anson ate breakfast not long after daylight, as they expected to take an early train for Prague. They sat by a window in a small dining-room, overlooking pleasant gardens, and the Elbe, flowing just beyond the stretch of grass and flowers. The weather of the fickle valley had decided once again to be good. The young sunshine gilded the surface of the river and touched the gray buildings with gold. John was reluctant to leave it, but he had the anticipation, too, of fresh conquests, of new cities to be seen and explored.
"We'll be in Prague tonight," he said, "and it will . be something very different, a place much more me- -' dieval than any we have yet visited."
"That's so," said Mr. Anson, and he trailed off into a long historical account of Prague, which would serve the double purpose of instructing John, and of exhibiting his own learning. The waiter, who could speak English, and with whom John, being young, did not hesitate to talk at times, was bent over, pouring coffee at his elbow.
"Pardon me, sir, but where did you say you were going?" he asked almost in a whisper.
"To Prague?"
"I shouldn't go there, sir, if I were you."
"Why not?"
"You'll run into a war,"
"What do you mean, Albrecht?"
But Albrecht was already on the way to the kitchen, and he was so long in returning that John dismissed his words as merely the idle talk of a waiter who wished to entertain Herr Simmering's American guests. But when they went to an agency, according to their custom, to buy the railway tickets to Prague they were informed that it would be better for them not to go to the Czech capital. Both were astonished.
"Why shouldn't we go to Prague?" asked Mr. Anson with some indignation. "I've never heard that the Czechs object to the presence of Americans."
"They don't," replied the agent blandly. "You can go to Prague without any trouble, but I don't think you could leave it for a long time."
"And why not. Who would wish