My Friend the Chauffeur
ourselves apparently no nearer the mountain-tops than when we started.
Though we gazed down so far that all things on the sea level had shrunk
into nothingness, and the big warship we had seen in coming was no
larger than a beetle, we gazed still farther up to the line where sky
and mountain met. And always, there were the grey-white, zigzag lines
scored on the face of the sheer rock.
I longed for some one to talk with, some one sympathetic to exclaim to;
in fact, I wished I were driving up this magnificent, this appalling
road, beside the Chauffeulier instead of in Prince Dalmar-Kalm's
tonneau. I wondered that Aunt Kathryn--usually so impulsive--could
restrain herself here, and expected at any moment to have her turn to
me, our differences forgotten. But no, she neither moved nor spoke, and
I realized how angry she must be with me, to visit her vexation upon
herself, and the Prince also.
I had thought the Col di Tenda wonderful, and the way down to Bellagio
over the mountains still more thrilling; but here, they were dwarfed
into utter insignificance. I could have imagined nothing like this feat
of engineering, nothing so wild, so majestic as the ever-changing views
from these incredible heights.
My respect for Schloss Hrvoya and its environment increased with every
ascending mile; but the distance was proving itself so great that I did
not see how it would be possible for the Prince to keep his promise, and
get us back to Cattaro before eight. And we had left summer warmth as
far behind as the level which it enriched with tropical flowers. The
Prince suggested to Aunt Kathryn that she should wrap round her a
shawl-like rug, and though I hated to follow his advice or take any
favours from him, I decided that it would be foolish to make myself a
martyr. So I, too, swaddled myself in woolly folds, and was thankful.
Now the windings of the Bocche di Cattaro revealed themselves
completely. The bay was no longer a silk sleeve; but a vast star,
seemingly cut out of a _lapis lazuli_, was set mosaic-like in the midst
of green and blue-grey mountains that soared up from it--up, up, in
shapes strange as a goblin's dream. Then, the azure star vanished, and
rocky heights shut away the view of the distant sea. Vegetation grew
sparse. At last we had reached the desolate and stony top of the
mountain-range which a little while ago had touched the sky. Clouds like
huge white swans swam in the blue air below us, where we could look down
from some sheer precipice. But where was Schloss Hrvoya? And would Aunt
Kathryn never speak to me?
Almost as if he read my thoughts, Prince Dalmar-Kalm turned his head,
checking the speed of the motor. "Don't be discouraged," he said,
cheerfully. "We shall be going down now, for a time, instead of up; and
shortly we shall be at our journey's end."
"But soon it will be twilight," I answered. "Do you know, it is after
six, and you said we would be back in Cattaro before eight. That's
impossible now; and I'm afraid that there won't be much daylight for
Aunt Kathryn to have a first look at her castle."
"It will be more imposing by twilight," replied the Prince; and though
my words had been a bid for notice from Aunt Kathryn, she made no sign
of having heard.
Once more Prince Dalmar-Kalm turned his attention to driving, and, as he
had prophesied, we began to plunge down heights almost as tremendous as
those we had climbed. The road, though splendidly engineered, was
covered with loose, sharp stones; and the surging mountain-tops on every
side were like the tossing waves of a desolate sea, turned to stone in
some fierce spasm of nature. Then, in the midst of this petrified ocean,
we flashed through a tiny village, and my hopes of reaching Schloss
Hrvoya before nightfall brightened.
From the little group of low, stone buildings, men who must have sprung
from a race of giants, rushed out in answer to the voice of our motor. I
had never seen such wonderful men, unless, perhaps, Mr. Barrymore might
be like them, if dressed as they were. Not one of the splendid band was
under six feet in height, and many were much taller. On their handsome,
close-cropped heads they wore gold-braided turbans over one ear. Their
long coats, falling to the knee, were of green, or red, or white, open
to show waistcoats crusted with gold embroidery. Round their slim waists
were wound voluminous sashes stuck full of sheathed knives and huge
pistols. Some had richly ornamented leather boots reaching half way up
their long, straight legs, while others wore white leggings, with
knitted stockings pulled up over them.
In a moment these gorgeous giants and their mean village were gone for
us; but our road took us past persons walking towards the town; men,
young and old, tall, beautiful boys, and white-clad women driving sheep,
who knitted their husbands' stockings as they walked.
Here and there in a deep pit among the tumbled grey rocks would be a
little vivid green dell, with a fairy ring of cultivated vegetation.
This would be guarded, perhaps, by a hut of stone, almost savage in the
crudeness of its construction. It was as if the proud people of this
remote, mountain world, wishing to owe their all to their own country,
nothing to outsiders, had preferred to make their houses with their own
hands out of their own rocks, hewing the walls and roofing them with
thatch from grass grown in their own pastures.
Impressed, almost terrified by the loneliness of this desolate land of
giants, lit fiercely now by the lurid glow of sunset, I searched the
distance for some towering hill crowned by a castle which might be
Hrvoya. But there were no castles, even ruined castles, in this region
of high rocks and lonely huts, and the red horizon was hemmed coldly in
by a range of ghostly, snow-clad mountains.
"What mountains are those, far away?" I could not resist asking.
"They are the mountains of Albania," the Prince answered.
"Why, but that sounds as if we were at the end of the world!" I cried,
startled.
He laughed over his shoulder. "And I am the last man in it! What did I
say to you yesterday?"
This reminder brought back the anger I was forgetting in my need of
human fellowship, and I did not speak again, but hugged little Airole
the closer, nestled under the warm rug.
At the end of a long, straight road that stretched before us I could see
a single, pale yellow light suddenly flash up in the twilight like a
lonely primrose, and farther on a little knot of other lights blossomed
in the dusk.
"We shall be there now in a few minutes," I was saying to myself, when
suddenly I was startled by a loud report like a pistol-shot. Aunt
Kathryn gave a shriek which was quite hoarse and unlike her natural
voice, but I was silent, holding Airole trembling and barking under my
arm.
The car swerved sharply, and my side of the tonneau seemed to settle
down. I was sure that an invisible person must have shot at us, and
wished sincerely that the Prince would drive on instead of slacking
pace. But he stopped the engine, exclaiming in an angry voice, "A tyre
burst! Thousand furies, why couldn't it have waited twenty minutes
more?"
"Is it serious?" I asked; for we had never had this experience before,
on any of the rough roads we had travelled.
"No," he answered shortly, "not serious, but annoying. We can crawl on
for a little way. I was a fool to stop the motor; did it without
thinking. Now I shall have the trouble of starting again."
Grumbling thus, he got out; but the motor wouldn't start. The engine was
as sullenly silent as Aunt Kathryn. For ten minutes, perhaps, the Prince
tried this device and that--no doubt missing Joseph; but at last he gave
up in despair. "It is no use," he groaned. "I am spending myself for
nothing. If you will sit quietly here for a few moments, I will go ahead
to that house where the light is, to see if I can get you ladies taken
in, and the car hauled into a place where I can work at it."
"What language do they speak here?" I asked, a chill of desolation upon
me.
"Slavic," he answered. "But I can talk it a little. I shall get on, and
you will see me again almost at once."
So saying, he was off, and I was alone with the statue of Aunt Kathryn.
At first I thought that, whatever happened, I wouldn't be the one to
begin a conversation, but the silence and deepening darkness were too
much for my nerves. "Oh, Aunt Kathryn, don't let's be cross to each
other any longer," I pleaded. "I'm tired of it, aren't you? And oh, what
wouldn't I give to be back in sweet Ragusa with Beechy and--and the
others!"
Still not a word. It seemed incredible that she could bear malice so;
but there was no cure for it. If she would not be softened by that plea
of mine, nothing I could say would melt her. I should have liked to cry,
for it was so lonely here, and so dreadful to be estranged from one's
only friend. But that would have been too childish, and I took what
comfort I could from Airole's tiny presence.
A quarter of an hour passed, perhaps, and then the Prince came back
accompanied by a man so huge that the tall Austrian seemed a boy beside
him. They looked at the car, communicating by gestures, and then the
Prince said, if we would walk to the house the woman there would receive
us, while he and his companion pushed the automobile into a shed which
the man had.
I made no further attempt to extract a relenting word from Aunt Kathryn,
as we tramped side by side along the road. Reaching a two-storied stone
box of a house, she dropped behind at the doorway, leaving me to
confront a hard-faced woman in a white jacket, with a graceful
head-dress half-hiding her black hair. In one hand she had a partly
finished stocking with knitting-needles in it; in the other she held a
candle in a quaintly made iron candlestick. Something she said to us in
a strange, but rather soft-sounding language, of which I couldn't
understand one syllable; but seeing my hopelessly blank expression she
smiled, nodded, and motioned us to cross the threshold.
The room was bare, with a floor of pounded earth. There was a wooden
table in it, a few shelves, and a long bench; but beyond was a more
attractive interior, for in an inner apartment she had lighted a fire of
sticks on a rude hearth.
I stood aside to let Aunt Kathryn pass in before me, which she did
without a word. We both stood before the fire, holding out gloved hands
to the meagre blaze, while little Airole ran about, whimpering and
examining everything with unconcealed disapproval.
I had just time to notice how oddly shabby Aunt Kathryn's gloves were,
and to wonder if she didn't intend to take off the "mushroom" (the talc
window of which the firelight transformed into a pane of red glass),
when Prince Dalmar-Kalm appeared. Without asking permission he walked
in, and looking at Aunt Kathryn, said in French, "You may go,
Victorine."
I stared, as bewildered as if the unfamiliar scene were turning to a
dream; but as the cloaked and mushroomed figure reached the door, the
spell broke.
I took a step after it, exclaiming, "Aunt Kathryn--Kittie!"
The door shut almost in my face. "That is not your Aunt Kathryn," said
the Prince, in a voice which, though low, vibrated with excitement. "It
is one of the Contessa Corramini's servants, chosen to play this part
because her figure is enough like your aunt's to resemble it closely in
a motor-coat. All that is of your aunt is that coat, the hat, the mask
of silk. You must hear the truth now, for it is time, and know what you
have to face."
"I don't understand you," I stammered weakly. It was more than ever as
if I were in a dream. I actually told myself that I would wake up in bed
at the Hotel Imperial in Ragusa. And oh, how I wished that I would wake
soon!