The Prisoner of Zenda | Page 6

as a fox or as--"
And she laughed mischievously as she cast a glance at me, and tossed
her head at her sister's reproving face.

"Many a man has cursed their red hair before now," muttered the old
lady--and I remembered James, fifth Earl of Burlesdon.
"But never a woman!" cried the girl.
"Ay, and women, when it was too late," was the stern answer, reducing
the girl to silence and blushes.
"How comes the King here?" I asked, to break an embarrassed silence.
"It is the duke's land here, you say."
"The duke invited him, sir, to rest here till Wednesday. The duke is at
Strelsau, preparing the King's reception."
"Then they're friends?"
"None better," said the old lady.
But my rosy damsel tossed her head again; she was not to be repressed
for long, and she broke out again:
"Ay, they love one another as men do who want the same place and the
same wife!"
The old woman glowered; but the last words pricked my curiosity, and
I interposed before she could begin scolding:
"What, the same wife, too! How's that, young lady?"
"All the world knows that Black Michael--well then, mother, the
duke--would give his soul to marry his cousin, the Princess Flavia, and
that she is to be the queen."
"Upon my word," said I, "I begin to be sorry for your duke. But if a
man will be a younger son, why he must take what the elder leaves, and
be as thankful to God as he can;" and, thinking of myself, I shrugged
my shoulders and laughed. And then I thought also of Antoinette de
Mauban and her journey to Strelsau.

"It's little dealing Black Michael has with--" began the girl, braving her
mother's anger; but as she spoke a heavy step sounded on the floor, and
a gruff voice asked in a threatening tone:
"Who talks of 'Black Michael' in his Highness's own burgh?"
The girl gave a little shriek, half of fright--half, I think, of amusement.
"You'll not tell of me, Johann?" she said.
"See where your chatter leads," said the old lady.
The man who had spoken came forward.
"We have company, Johann," said my hostess, and the fellow plucked
off his cap. A moment later he saw me, and, to my amazement, he
started back a step, as though he had seen something wonderful.
"What ails you, Johann?" asked the elder girl. "This is a gentleman on
his travels, come to see the coronation."
The man had recovered himself, but he was staring at me with an
intense, searching, almost fierce glance.
"Good evening to you," said I.
"Good evening, sir," he muttered, still scrutinizing me, and the merry
girl began to laugh as she called--
"See, Johann, it is the colour you love! He started to see your hair, sir.
It's not the colour we see most of here in Zenda."
"I crave your pardon, sir," stammered the fellow, with puzzled eyes. "I
expected to see no one."
"Give him a glass to drink my health in; and I'll bid you good night,
and thanks to you, ladies, for your courtesy and pleasant conversation."
So speaking, I rose to my feet, and with a slight bow turned to the door.

The young girl ran to light me on the way, and the man fell back to let
me pass, his eyes still fixed on me. The moment I was by, he started a
step forward, asking:
"Pray, sir, do you know our King?"
"I never saw him," said I. "I hope to do so on Wednesday."
He said no more, but I felt his eyes following me till the door closed
behind me. My saucy conductor, looking over her shoulder at me as she
preceded me upstairs, said:
"There's no pleasing Master Johann for one of your colour, sir."
"He prefers yours, maybe?" I suggested.
"I meant, sir, in a man," she answered, with a coquettish glance.
"What," asked I, taking hold of the other side of the candlestick, "does
colour matter in a man?"
"Nay, but I love yours--it's the Elphberg red."
"Colour in a man," said I, "is a matter of no more moment than
that!'--and I gave her something of no value.
"God send the kitchen door be shut!" said she.
"Amen!" said I, and left her.
In fact, however, as I now know, colour is sometimes of considerable
moment to a man.
CHAPTER 3
A Merry Evening with a Distant Relative
I was not so unreasonable as to be prejudiced against the duke's keeper
because he disliked my complexion; and if I had been, his most civil

and obliging conduct (as it seemed to me to be) next morning would
have disarmed me. Hearing that I was bound for Strelsau, he came to
see me while I was