A Princess of the Balkans/Chapter 1

HE men look poisonous, but the girl is rather pretty," said Stephen Dallas.

"'Poisonous' is scarcely the word," answered Sir James—"unless you apply it to the big Jew in the same sense that it might refer to the hind leg of a mule. The girl is Austrian, I fancy, with perhaps a dash of Italian. She would be rather a beauty—when you got used to her."

"She does not look to me as if you would ever get used to her."

"So much the better. That is worth far more than beauty."

The Englishman let his big frame sink back upon one elbow, stretched his long legs on the hot sand, and looked off to sea. Dallas lit a cigarette and glanced curiously toward the trio sitting on the beach at a few yards' distance.

"The stones on that big Jew's hands give me a vertigo," said he, "and his accent suggests a toucan with a cold. What beastly language are they talking?"

"I don't know. It seems to be all spits and sputters, with now and then a bark."

Sir James stopped spinning his monocle around his finger, to screw it into his eye and survey the trio. Under the fixity of his British stare, all three turned with the same impulse and looked at the two young men. Then with equal unity of action all three scowled; the girl with a sudden intensity that brought a swarthy flush to her clear skin, the Jew with a diabolical raising of the outer ends of his black, bushy eyebrows; the third member of the party, a thickset, sulky-looking young man, whose personality suggested an overfed black cat, muttered something which could not have been amiable.

"Better not stare at her, James," said Dallas. "If she were to run over here and bite you, you'd certainly go mad."

"I shall risk it," said Sir James, "to find out if she's pretty." He stared placidly for a moment, then blinked out the monocle and turned to his friend. "You are quite right, old chap; she is."

"I am beginning to change my mind," said Dallas. "I don't think that I like yellow eyes and blue hair. The color scheme should be reversed. Now she's angry and going off to sulk. She gets up like a cat or a puma—all part of the same swing. Gad, she's got a figure! Now, don't stare her off the beach until I've looked! My word, but you English have beastly manners!"

The girl had risen, and was standing, beautifully poised, looking at the sea over the heads of her companions. She said a few words, then moved off toward the bathhouses.

"She's going to bathe," said Sir James. "Believe I'll have a dip myself. Coming in?"

"No, thanks. Too late in the season. I haven't thawed out yet from yesterday's swim, and I've got to run the car this afternoon."

The Englishman rose to his feet and strode off toward the bathhouses. It was late in September, and the little resort was almost deserted. Dallas and his friend had dropped in en tour on the motor car belonging to the former.

In a few moments Sir James came stalking down the beach, an attractive masculine combination of fresh, athletic skin, long, clean muscles, and yellow hair, his very blue eyes like lapis lazuli against his brick-red complexion. The two friends were of markedly different type, as Dallas was of medium height, slender, wiry, of a high, nervous tension, and with the face of a very handsome and thoroughbred woman. His eyes were a clear gray, with lashes very long and black. No one had ever seen him thrown out of poise.

Sir James stretched his naked limbs luxuriously upon the hot sand and looked with cheerful expectation toward the bathhouses.

"Why don't you loll out your tongue and prick up your ears and wag your tail, James?" snapped Dallas irritably. "Can't you decently cloak your emotions? And I must say you have plenty of cheek to calmly go in swimming with that girl."

"The Channel is free to all, and why is a woman made pretty if not to attract the eyes of men? Ah!"

Dallas looked around and saw the girl coming down the beach. She was enveloped in a white peignoir and followed by an exceedingly pretty and smart-looking maid. Her blue-black hair was tied up in a yellow handkerchief, and her feet were bare and beautifully shaped. As she passed her two companions, the younger man followed her with his eyes. The Jew was writing or making some calculations in a notebook and did not look up. The girl threw a quick glance toward Sir James, which was observed by her friend, who scowled.

"Jealous brute, the cubby-faced beggar," drawled Sir James. "Did you see that look? How he'd like to slide a knife into me for presuming to tub in the same ocean with the beauty! Oh, I say, old chap, look at her! Isn't she stunning?"

"She makes the sea look quite dingy," Dallas admitted.

The maid had taken her peignoir, and the girl was standing at the water's edge, her superb figure cut sharp and pure against the vivid background of the sea, ruffled by the strong land breeze to a deep-toned ultramarine which was flecked with wisps of snowy spray. Her arms and legs were bare, and the rich sunlight lent to the flesh tints something of its saffron tone. As if against her will, she glanced back over her shoulder at Sir James, then gave a little involuntary toss of her chin, which caused the two young men to look at each other with a smile.

"Then tuck yourself into the water if you hate so to be admired," muttered Dallas, and perhaps his thought reached the girl, for she waded rapidly down the steep beach, and, plunging in, began to swim seaward. Sir James watched her, and tugged thoughtfully at his wiry mustache.

"I wonder if she knows about the offshore current," he said.

"Don't worry. She's bound across for Ramsgate."

There were some women and children bathing, and a few people sitting here and there about the beach. Near by, a big fishing boat was hauled up, and a man was calking her seams. Dallas observed that he had stopped work and was watching the girl, who was swimming steadily seaward. Higher up on the beach were some other and larger boats, but the place was an open roadstead, with no inlet for miles, and there were no boats in the water.

"She is getting too far out," observed Sir James. "Believe I'll swim out and warn her. But you'd better tell her friends to call her back."

He rose lightly to his feet and waded down the beach. Dallas hailed the two men who had been with the girl.

"Beg pardon," said he, "but I think you had better warn madame not to swim so far out. There is a strong off-shore current at this tide."

The big Jew swung sharply about and stared first at Dallas, then seaward toward the girl.

"Sapristi! I believe you," said he, and hove himself awkwardly to his feet, raised both huge hands to his mouth, and shouted to the girl. She was swimming on her side, and as the hoarse hail reached her she looked back over her shoulder, then held steadily on.

"Tiens!" cried the Jew. "But she will not come."

Again he shouted, and this time the girl threw up one hand with a mocking gesture, but held on seaward with her strong, rhythmic stroke. Sir James had entered the water and was swimming after her.

Dallas looked about him in extreme vexation. There was probably not a man in France who was in the habit of taking as frequent and hazardous risks as he when on the road with his big car; and he was also a fearless hunter of big game and an almost reckless cross-country rider. But he was one of those individuals of nervous temperament, who, while willing to take chances themselves, are nevertheless extremely disturbed at the sight of others exposed to danger. Moreover, he was himself an inlander, a poor swimmer, and one to whom deep water represented treachery and danger. He had never found himself on or in the water without a certain instinctive dread.

"Call her again," he said almost sharply. "My friend swam out there yesterday and had hard work getting back."

The younger man glanced at him with an almost insolent expression, but the Jew nodded his big, shaggy head, then looked doubtfully at Dallas, who observed that his eyes were very large, of a muddy brown, and shot with small, hazel-colored spots.

"Unfortunately, mademoiselle is of a very obstinate disposition," said he. "She does not like to be told what to do. But she is a very strong swimmer."

Dallas frowned, then glanced over to where the fisherman was working at his boat. As he did so, the man laid down his calking iron and walked toward the group.

"Madame has swum out farther than is safe," said he, touching his cap. "At this tide the current is very strong. I do not believe that madame will be able to get back."

"Then we must shove your boat into the water," said Dallas.

The man shrugged. "I do not believe that the boat would float, m'sieu," he answered. "The calking is all pulled out of her seams, and the water would run in very fast. Besides this, the oars and sail are in my cabin, up on the top of the cliffs."

The big Jew scowled, then looked anxiously seaward. By this time the girl was over three hundred yards from the beach and swimming straight out, quite unconscious of the strong current on which she was borne—for the splash of the water about her had prevented her hearing what had been shouted. One hundred yards in her wake, Sir James was plowing along in an effort to overtake her.

The Jew puffed out his cheeks, and stared at Dallas in doubt and perplexity.

"This is very bad," said he. "These silly women! Is your friend a strong swimmer?"

"Yes," answered Dallas; "but for all that, he had his work cut out for him yesterday, and to-day there is an offshore breeze which will blow the water in their faces when they turn."

"Then," said the Jew suddenly, "leak or no leak, we must get that tub in the water. Let us go and look at her."

Followed by the American, he strode over to the clumsy fishing boat, which was shored up on her beam ends. As the fisherman had said, the oakum had been ripped from her gaping seams.

"Is there no other boat fit to take the water?" asked the Jew in his harsh, raucous voice.

"None except these others, m'sieu," answered the fisherman; "but they are very large and heavy, and it would require at least eight men to launch one."

"Then," said the Jew, "go as quickly as you can and get more men. For we must have one of the boats. Sapristi! Why will these women insist on being so contrary?"

The fisherman set off, and Dallas and the Jew stood watching the swimmers with deep anxiety. The handkerchief about the head of the girl had become a mere speck of yellow. Sir James had nearly reached her, and as they looked they saw that both swimmers had turned, and were facing the shore. Then presently the two heads approached more nearly together.

For five minutes they watched in silence, then the Jew looked at Dallas and shook his head.

"They are losing ground," said he. "Every minute they are being carried farther out."

As he spoke, both saw the yellow handkerchief flutter violently, waving back and forth.

"Tiens!" cried the Jew. "They are in trouble! That water is like ice! Perhaps one of them has been seized by a cramp. Come, my friend, we cannot wait for the men. We must get this tub in the water."

"But she will not float!" cried Dallas.

"Sapristi! But she will have to float. I will paddle, and you and the prince can bail."

"The prince?"

"Yes. My friend is the Prince Emilio of Rascia. The lady is his cousin. I"—he threw out his big chest—"am the Baron Isidor Rosenthal. Come, we have no time to lose. Let us right this tub and run her down the beach."

He gripped the gunwale in his powerful hands, then kicked out the shores, and with a strong thrust rolled the boat onto her keel. As the beach was very steep and composed of a shingle of round, smooth cobbles, the launching of the boat, heavy as she was, did not present much difficulty.

Rosenthal picked up a plank and flung it upon the thwart, then called to his companion:

"Your highness must help. There is no time to lose."

There was an imperative note in the harsh voice which permitted of no question. The prince got up, walked over sulkily, and laid hold of the gunwale opposite Dallas.

"Now, all together!" cried the Jew, and put out his herculean strength, which was far greater than that of the other two men combined. Once started, they ran the heavy boat down the steep beach to the water's edge. Here they paused for breath, and Dallas, looking seaward, was startled to find that the heads of the swimmers had almost disappeared.

"We must wade out with her," panted the Jew. "Come!"

Staggering forward, splashing thigh deep in the water, they soon had the boat afloat, and Dallas, looking inside her, saw the water spouting in through the open seams.

"Ach!" cried the Jew. "But this thing is like a grating. We must be quick, or she will sink before we reach them." He looked at Dallas and grinned. His bushy black eyebrows were pushed up at their outer corners, and his heavy mustache was lifted, baring his big yellow fangs.

"Peste! We shall all be in the water directly—and I cannot swim. Ugh! I have never liked water"—he made a grimace—"except in wine. But it does not matter; there is lumber enough in the tub to float the lot of us until we are picked up." He leaped aboard, and Dallas, rather pale, and with lips compressed, followed him, and, picking up a bucket, began rapidly to bail.

"Come, lend a hand!" he snapped to the prince. "There is a pan in the stern."

But the prince took several backward steps up the beach. "Thank you," said he in a guttural voice, "but I am not such a fool as to go to sea in a boat like that."

"But you must!" cried the Jew. "There is the Lady Thalia."

The prince shrugged. "It is her own fault," said he; then, turning on his heel, walked away.

"Cowardly little beast!" growled Dallas. "Never mind. Shove off!"

Rosenthal picked up the heavy plank, thrust the boat ahead until the water had deepened; then, seating himself in the stern, began to paddle with long and powerful strokes. Dallas, looking up as he bailed, saw that the Jew was chuckling to himself.

"Ridiculous, my friend, is it not?" growled Rosenthal, without desisting from his tremendous effort. "Ha, ha, ha!" He barked like a hoarse alligator. "Can you swim?"

"Not in my clothes," answered Dallas, who was bailing furiously in an effort to reduce the volume of water before the next open seam should be submerged. "Your Prince Emilio is a filthy little coward, but you are the right sort."

"I!" cried the Jew. "But I am a fool, an imbecile! Listen, my friend: if the lady were to drown, I should be the gainer by forty thousand pounds!" He chuckled.

"What?"

"Yes!" cried Rosenthal, paddling with even greater vigor. "Sapristi, but this tub is hard to move! Yes, I have sunk forty thousand pounds in silver mines in their accursed country, and now I cannot work them because the Lady Thalia is in the way. It is a long story. If she would marry the prince, it would be all right, or if she would drown, it would be all right." He increased his efforts until the veins stood out in double cords upon his swarthy forehead.

"If that is true," answered Dallas, bailing rapidly, "I am rather proud to be in the same sinking tub with you."

"Sapristi! You flatter me. But I am that kind of a fool. I want to get my money, of course, but one cannot let people drown for the sake of a filthy forty thousand pounds."

They toiled away in silence. Driven by the strong offshore wind and Rosenthal's tireless paddling, the boat moved steadily through the water. Glancing ahead, Dallas saw that the swimmers were nearer. Despite his efforts, the water in the boat was gaining on him, and he wondered how much longer they could keep afloat. He looked shoreward; there was a knot of people gathered on the beach, but he saw no sign of the fisherman returning. Then he glanced at his huge shipmate; the Jew's yellow teeth were bared as they clenched his nether lip; his big nostrils were dilated, and his face congested. Merely to wield the heavy plank which he gripped in his thick, bejeweled fingers would have been a feat of strength for the ordinary man, but Rosenthal was getting a powerful shove on the water with every stroke. Moreover, he was constantly shifting his paddle from one side to the other, giving Dallas a shower bath each time that he swung it over his head. The young man ob- served how the huge deltoids bulged the shoulders of the Jew's serge coat, and presently the seams ripped under the strain. But the paddling went on with the unabating rhythm of a machine, nor was there any symptom of fatigue.

As they drew near to the swimmers, Dallas discovered, first to his relief, then to his irritation, that they were paddling along easily and comfortably, and that Sir James was making an effort at conversation. He looked at Rosenthal, who grinned.

"So!" said the Jew. "They seem to be quite comfortable."

As the boat reached them, the two swimmers laid hold of the gunwale. With a muscular effort of his strong arms, Sir James hove himself aboard; then, turning, took the girl by both wrists and lifted her out of the water and onto one of the thwarts, where she sat like a lovely mermaid, her bare arms flashing and her legs hanging over the side.

"I say," exclaimed the Englishman, "have you no oars?"

"No," snapped Dallas; "and you had better get hold of that basin and throw the water out, or we'll have no boat, either."

The girl glanced sharply at his face, then dropped her head and stared into the sea. Rosenthal had laid down his paddle and was opening and shutting his cramped fingers. Then, taking a penknife from his pocket, he slashed off a piece of rope from the painter, quickly unlaid it, and began to force the rope yarn into an open seam.

"If you will help with the bailing, mademoiselle," said he, "and you"—he glanced at Dallas—"will help me to calk, we may be able to keep our ship afloat."

For several minutes the four worked rapidly and in silence, Dallas and Rosenthal plugging the open seams, while the girl and Sir James bailed. The Jew's suggestion proved an excellent one, as the seams of the lower strakes had already been calked and the water was coming in through the higher ones, which were within reach. It soon became apparent that they were gaining rapidly upon the leak. But the boat had by this time drifted over a mile from the shore, the wind was freshening, and there was no sign of any one coming to their rescue. When the level of the water became only ankle-deep, Dallas took the basin from the girl's hand, then slipped off his coat.

"Put this on, mademoiselle," said he. "The breeze is chilly."

She made a little gesture of dissent.

"Put it on, put it on!" said Dallas, with a touch of impatience. "One might as well drown as catch pneumonia."

Again the girl's eyes turned on him with their searching, curious look. Dallas noticed that they were of a deep amber color and marvelously clear. He also observed that they held in themselves as much expression as one finds in the sum of all the features of most people.

Almost with brusqueness he held out the coat for the girl to put on.

"Come!" said he, giving the garment an impatient twitch. Again her eyes flashed up at his, this time with an expression of resentment. But some quality in the cool gray ones of the man caused them to drop instantly. With a muttered word of acknowledgment, the girl slipped her round white arms into the sleeves. Dallas, his manner that of a kind but rather impatient nurse, buttoned the garment snugly to her soft throat, then gave a little twitch, drawing the skirt over the bare knees.

"Now you had better bail a little," he said, "not hard, but enough to keep you from getting chilled."

Sir James had stopped his bailing, and was working at the open seam. The wind was freshening and carried a certain sharpness which was soon felt by the Englishman, after his long swim in the cold water of the Channel.

"I s-s-say," he began, "you m-m-might have b-b-brought our clothes."

Rosenthal pulled off his coat, and handed it to him.

"Put this on," said he. "When we came after you, we were thinking less of your comfort than of your safety. Besides, it looked as if we should all be in the water before many minutes, and no doubt we should have been but for the quick work of Mr." He looked inquiringly at Dallas.

"I am Stephen Dallas," said the young man. "My friend is Sir James Fenwick."

The big Jew lifted his hat with a flourish.

"Permit me to thank you both," said he, "for the service which you have rendered to the Lady Thalia—of Novibazar," he added as if in afterthought. "I"—he rose awkwardly to his feet, placing four fingers on his bulging chest—"am the Baron Isidor Rosenthal, of Hayti and Buda-Pesth,"

"Ch-ch-chawmed," chattered Sir James. Dallas compromised with a brief nod.

"Is Prince Emilio also of Novibazar?" he asked. There was an intonation in his voice which caused the girl again to glance at him sharply. Her clear eyes slightly contracted.

"Yes—unfortunately," she answered in a low, throaty voice.

"I quite agree with you," snapped Dallas. Sir James glanced at his friend in surprise.

"Oh, c-c-come, Stephen," said he, "You are not very p-p-polite."

"I don't mean to be. The prince declined to come to the assistance of Lady Thalia. We needed him to help bail."

"N-n-no! Really?" Sir James stared.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Please pardon my ignorance," said Dallas, "but just where is Novibazar?"

"Ig-ig-ignoramus!" shivered Sir James. The girl slightly raised her pretty chin.

"Well, then," snapped Dallas, "where is it, if you know so much about it?"

"It is n-n-near"—Sir James glanced critically at the girl, in a violent effort to guess at her parent stock—"n-n-near Austria."

"Humph!" grunted Dallas. "So are Italy and Switzerland and Germany and Russia and the Balkan Peninsula."

"Sapristi! But I can tell you where it is," growled Rosenthal. "It is a handful of hills between Servia and Bosnia, that is owned by Turkey and governed by Austria, and it is full of holes where I have buried forty thousand pounds."

"And where we Albanians," cried the girl fiercely, "have buried forty thousand warriors—and more!"

"Ah!" said Sir James. "Then you are Alba-ba-banian?"

"Yes." The girl spoke a soft but strongly accented English. "I am Albanian." She drew herself up with as much dignity as was possible for a lady sitting with her bare legs cuddled under her, and buttoned up in a man's serge coat. "I am Albanian, or Shkipetari, as we say. Our blood is the purest in Europe. We are the direct descendants of the ancient Illyrians. We should be to-day an independent state if it were not for cowards like Emilio and"—she tossed her head—"Jew adventurers."

"Permit me to remind you of the fact," said Dallas severely, "that you, personally, would be paddling around the English Channel if it were not for Baron Rosenthal, who, although he cannot swim, embarked to your rescue in a leaky, open boat, with neither oars nor sail."

For an instant the girl stared; then she leaped to her feet and stood with the water swirling about her pretty ankles. A sudden flush had risen under the pallor of her fair skin, and her eyes were sparkling with anger.

"I will not be spoken to in that way!" she cried. "Nor will I be under obligation either to Baron Rosenthal or yourself. I did not ask you to rescue me." She slipped off Dallas' coat, and stood for an instant with her superb figure straight and poised as if to plunge over the side and into the sea.

"Sit down, mademoiselle!" said Dallas sharply. "There is no use in making things any more complicated."

"B-b-brute!" shivered Sir James. "D-d-don't notice him, Lady Th-Th-Thalia. Or, if you l-l-like, jump in again, and I will g-g-go with you."

The girl turned and glanced at him. More color rushed into her face, and her lips began to twitch. Then she turned toward Rosenthal and smiled.

"Mr. Dallas is right," she said. "I am sorry, Rosenthal."

"It is nothing," said the baron. "We Jews are accustomed to such remarks. Come, children, let us stop squabbling."

The girl reseated herself, on the thwart, and Dallas, a little ashamed of himself, picked up the coat and turned to the girl.

"I am sorry I was rude," said he. "Won't you please put this on again?"

She gave him a forgiving smile, and slipped into his coat.

"You must not judge the Lady Thalia from her Cousin Emilio," said Rosenthal. "The prince is of quite different stock. He is a Serb, and connected with mademoiselle only by marriage. His title is merely one of courtesy, because he is descended from a line of feudal chiefs."

"We have no titles which correspond to yours in England," said the girl, "but many of them are just as old."

"Myself," said Rosenthal, "I am a papal baron."

"A p-p-papal baron!" cried Sir James.

"Yes," replied the Jew, "and with good right. Sapristi! But with very good right! My title was conferred upon me by the pope himself because I prevented the massacre of a whole Christian community by a swarm of Moslem fanatics. It cost me a thousand Turkish pounds—and a bullet in the ribs."

"G-g-good for you!" cried Sir James as heartily as his congealed condition would permit.

"Here comes a boat!" cried the Lady Thalia.

All four looked back toward the distant shore, where they saw a brown sail fluttering in the breeze. Directly it bellied out, and a few minutes later a heavy fishing boat came foaming up and rounded to alongside.

The castaways quickly transshipped, when their own leaky vessel was boarded by two of the fishermen, who stepped the mast, and both vessels started to beat back toward the beach.