Azel Ames - "The Mayflower and Her Log, v1"

Charles Darwin - "The Power Of Movement In Plants"

Flavius Josephus - "The Life of Flavius Josephus"

Fergus Hume - "Madame Midas"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Puppet Crown

H >> Harold MacGrath >> The Puppet Crown




They followed the river. The roar of it deadened all other
sounds. For a mile they plodded on, silent, watchful and
meditative. The prince thought of his love; Maurice tried to
forget his. For him the romance had come to an end, its logical
end; and it was now only a question of getting back to the world
to which he belonged and remaining there. He recalled a line he
had read somewhere: a deep love, gashes into the soul as a scar
is hewn upon the body and remains there during the whole life. . .

"Look!" cried the prince. He pointed toward the west.

Maurice came out of his dream and looked. Some distance west of
the pass, perhaps half a mile from where they stood, Maurice saw
the twinkle of a hundred campfires. It was Madame's army in
bivouac.

"What does this mean?" asked the prince.

"It means that the duchess is on the eve of striking a blow for
her crown," answered Maurice. "And how are we to make the pass,
which is probably filled with soldiers? If only we could find a
boat! Ah! what would your Highness call this?" He pointed to a
thread-like line of bare earth which wended riverward.

"A sheep or cattle path," said the prince, after a close
inspection.

"Then the river is perhaps fordable here!" exclaimed Maurice
jubilantly. "At any rate, we'll try it; if it gets too deep,
we'll come back."

He walked to the water's edge, studied the black whirling mass,
shrugged and stepped in. The prince came after him,
unhesitatingly. Both shivered. The water was intensely cold. But
the bed was shallow, and the river never mounted above the waist.
However, in midstream it rushed strongly and wildly along, and
all but carried them off their feet. They arrived in safety at
the opposite shore, weak and cold in body, but warm in spirit.
They lay on the grass for several moments, breathing heavily.
They might now gain the pass by clambering up the mountain and
picking their way down from the other side. It was not possible
that Madame's troopers had entered into the kingdom.

"I am giving out," the prince confessed reluctantly. "Let us
make as much headway as we can while I last."

They stood up. Now the moon fell upon them both; and they viewed
each other with no little curiosity. What the prince saw pleased
him, for he possessed a good eye. What Maurice saw was a frank,
manly countenance, youthful, almost boyish. The prince did not
look to be more than three and twenty, if that; but there was a
man's determination in his jaw. This jaw pleased Maurice, for it
confided to him that Madame had now something that would cause
her worry.

"I put myself in your care," said the prince, offering his hand.
"I am not equal to much. A man can not see his wedding day come
and go without him, helpless to prevent it, and not have the
desire to sit down and weep and curse. You will see nothing but
the unfavorable side of me for the next dozen hours."

"I'm not altogether amiable myself," replied Maurice with a
short laugh. "Let us get out of the moonlight," he added; "we
are somewhat conspicuous, and besides, we should keep moving;
this cold is paralyzing. Is your Highness equal to the climbing?"

"Equal or not, lead the way. If I fall I'll call you."

And the weary march began again; over boulders, through tangles
of tough shrubbery, up steep inclines, around precipices,
sometimes enveloped in mists, yet still they kept on. Often the
prince fell over ragged stones, but he picked himself up without
assistance; though he swore some, Maurice thought none the less
of him for that bit of human weakness. The cold was numbing, and
neither felt the cuts and bruises.

After two hours of this fatiguing labor they arrived upon a
small plateau, about two thousand feet above the valley. The
scene was solemn and imposing. The world seemed lying at their
feet. The chateau, half hidden in the mist, sparkled like an
opal. Maurice scowled at it. To the prince the vision was as
reviving as a glass of wine. He threatened it with his fist, and
plunged on with renewed vigor. There are few sensations so
stimulating as the thought of a complete revenge. The angle of
vision presently changed, and the historic pile vanished.
Maurice never saw the Red Chateau again.

Little more in the way of mishap befell them; and when the moon
had wheeled half way down from the zenith, the kingdom lay below
them. A descent of an hour's duration brought them into the pass.
Maurice calculated that nearly five hours had passed since he
left the chateau; for the blue was fading in the east. The
phantom vitality of the prince now forsook him; his legs refused
their offices, and he sank upon a boulder, his head in his hands.
Maurice was not much better; but the prince had given him the
burden of responsibility, and he was determined to hold up under
it.

"If your Highness will remain here," he said, "I will fetch
assistance, for the barrack can not be far off."

The prince nodded and Maurice tramped away. But the miniature
barrack and the quaint stone customs house both were wrapt in
gloom and darkness. Maurice investigated. Both buildings were
deserted; there was no sign of life about. He broke a window,
and entered the customs office. Remembering that Colonel
Mollendorf smoked, he searched the inner pocket of his coat. He
drew forth a box of wax matches, struck one and looked about. A
struggle had taken place. Evidences were strewn on the floor.
The telegraph operator's table had been smashed into bits, the
instrument twisted out of shape, the jars broken and the wires
cut. Like indications of a disturbance were also found in the
barrack.

Maurice began to comprehend. Madame's troopers had crossed the
frontier, but they had returned again, taking with them the
handful of troopers belonging to the king. It was plain that the
object of this skirmish had been to destroy communications
between Bleiberg and the frontier. Madame desired to effect a
complete surprise, to swoop down on the capital before it could
bring a large force into the field.

There is an unwritten law that when one country intends to wage
war against its neighbor a formal declaration shall be made. But
again Madame had forsaken the beaten paths. More than three
weeks had passed since the duchy's representative in Bleiberg
had been discredited and given his passports. At once the
duchess had retaliated by discrediting the king's representative
in Brunnstadt. Ordinarily this would have been understood as a
mutual declaration of war. Instead, both governments ignored
each other, one suspiciously, the other intentionally. All of
which is to say, the gage of war had been flung, but neither had
stooped to pick it up.

Perhaps Madame expected by this sudden aggressiveness to win her
fight with as little loss of blood as possible, which in justice
to her was to her credit. Again, a declaration of war openly
made might have moved the confederation to veto it by coercion.
To win without loss of life would leave the confederation
powerless to act. Therefore it will be seen that Madame was not
only a daring woman, but a general of no mean ability.

This post was an isolated one; between it and Bleiberg there was
not even a village. The main pass from the kingdom into the
duchy was about thirty miles east. Here was a small but lively
city named Coberg, a railway center, garrisoned by one thousand
troops. At this pass Madame's contemplated stroke of war would
have been impossible. The railway ran directly from Coberg to
Brunnstadt, fifty miles south of the frontier. A branch of the
railway ran from Brunnstadt to a small town seven miles south of
the Red Chateau, which accounts for the ease with which Madame's
troops had reached the isolated pass. It was now likely that
Madame would arrive before Bleiberg ere her enemies dreamed of
the stroke. Maurice could see how well the traitorous
administration had played into Madame's hands. Here was the one
weak spot, and they had allowed it to remain thus weak.

"The kingdom is lost," thought Maurice. "His Highness and I may
as well return to the chateau, for all the good our escape will
do us. Hang them all!"

He began to forage, and discovered a bottle full of peach brandy.
He drank half the contents, reserving the remainder for the
prince. As he lowered the bottle there came a sound which caused
him almost to lose hold of the vigorous tonic. The sound he
heard was the shrill whinney of a horse. He pocketed the bottle
and dashed out to the stables. To his joy several horses stamped
restlessly in the stalls. The attacking party had without doubt
come on foot. He led out two, saddled and bridled them and
returned to the prince, who had fallen asleep. Maurice roused
him.

"To Bleiberg, your Highness," he cried, at the same time
offering the bottle, which the prince did not hesitate to empty.

"Ha !" staggering to his feet. "Where are the men?"

Maurice explained the cause of their absence. The prince swore,
and climbed with difficulty into the saddle.

"Thank God," he said, as they galloped away, "we shall be there
first."

"Adieu, Madame!" Maurice cried, airily. He was free.

"To our next meeting, duchess!" The prince, too, was free, but
he thirsted for a full revenge.

They had been on the way but a short time when Maurice lifted
his arm.

"Look!"

The prince raised his head. It was dawn, yellow and cold and
pure.

They fell into silence; sometimes Maurice caught himself
counting the beat of the hoofs and the variation of sounds, as
when they struck sand or slate, or crossed small wooden bridges.
Here and there he saw peasants going into the fields to begin
the long, long day of toil. The saddle on which he sat had been
the property of a short man, for the stirrups were too high, and
the prince's were too low. But neither desired to waste time to
adjust them. And so they rode with dangling legs and bodies
sunken in the saddles; mute, as if by agreement.

They had gone perhaps ten miles when they perceived a horse
flying toward them, half a mile away. The rider was not yet
visible. They felt no alarm, but instinctively they drew
together. Nearer and nearer came the lonely horseman, and as the
distance lessened into some hundred yards they discerned the
flutter of a gown.

"A woman!" exclaimed Maurice. "And alone this time of morning!"

"Eh?" cried the prince; "and heading for the duchy? Let us wait."

They drew up to the side of the highway. The woman came
fearlessly on, her animal's head down and his tail flaring out
behind. On, on; abreast of them; as she flew past there was a
vision of a pale, determined face, a blond head bared to the
chill wind. She heeded not their challenge; it was a question
whether or not she heard it. They stood watching her until she
and her horse dwindled into a mere moving speck, finally to
become lost altogether in a crook of the road.

"I should like to know what that means," said Maurice.

"It is very strange," the prince said, musingly. "I have seen
that woman before. She is one of the dancers at the opera."

"Mayhap she has a lover on the other side."

"Mayhap. Let us be on. There's the sun, and we are a good
thirteen miles away!" and the prince slapped the neck of his
horse, which bounded forward.

This tiring pace they maintained until they mounted the hill
from which they could see the glittering spires of the city, and
the Werter See as it flashed back the sunlight.

"Bleiberg!" Maurice waved his hand.

"Thanks to you, that I look on it."

It was ten o'clock when they passed under the city gates.

"Monsieur, will you go with me to the palace?" asked the prince.

"If your Highness will excuse me," said Maurice; "no, I should
be in the way; and besides I am dead for want of sleep."

"I shall never sleep," grumbled the prince, "till I have humbled
that woman. And you? Have you no rankle in your heart? Have you
no desire to witness that woman's humiliation?"

"Your Highness, I belong to a foreign country."

"No matter; be my aide. Come; I offer you a complete revenge for
the treatment you have received at Madame's hands. Your
government shall never know."

Maurice studied the mane of his horse. Suddenly he made a
gesture. This gesture consigned to the four winds his diplomatic
career. "I accept," he said. "You will find me at the
Continental. I confess that I have no love for this woman. She
has robbed me of no little conceit."

"To the palace, then; to the palace! And this hour to-morrow we,
you and I, will drink to her Royal Highness at the Red Chateau.
To the palace!"

Up the Strasse they raced, through the lower town to the upper,
and down the broad asphalt to the palace gates. The prince
rushed his horse to the very bars and shook them in his wild
impatience.

"Ho! open, open!" he called.

Several cuirassiers lounged about. At the sight of these two
hatless, bedraggled men storming the gates, they ran forward
with drawn swords and angry cries. Lieutenant Scharfenstein was
among them. At second glance he recognized Maurice, who hailed
him.

"Open, Lieutenant," he cried; "it is his Highness, Prince
Frederick!"

The bars came down, the gates swung in.

"Go and sleep," said the prince to Maurice; "I will send an
orderly for you when the time comes." And with this he dashed up
the driveway to the main entrance of the palace, leaped from his
horse and disappeared.

Maurice wheeled and drove leisurely to the Continental, leaving
the amazed cuirassiers gaping after him. He experienced that
exuberance of spirits which always comes with a delightful day
dream. He forgot his weariness, his bruises. To mingle directly
in the affairs of kings and princes, to be a factor among
factors who surround and uphold thrones, seemed so at variance
with his republican learning that he was not sure that all this
was not one long dream--Fitzgerald and his consols, the meeting
with the princess, the adventures at Madame's chateau, the duel
with Beauvais, the last night's flight with the prince across
the mountains! Yes; he had fallen asleep somewhere and had been
whisked away into a kind of fairyland. Every one was in trouble
just now, as they always are in certain chapters of fairy tales,
but all would end happily, and then--he would wake.

Meanwhile the prince entered the palace and was proceeding up
the grand corridor, when a bared sword stayed his progress.

"Monsieur," said von Mitter, "you have lost your way. You can
not enter here."

"I?" a haughty, threatening expression on his pale face. "Are
you sure?"

Von Mitter fell back against the wall and all but lost hold of
his saber. "Your Highness?" he gasped, overcome.

"Even so!" said the prince. "The archbishop! the Marshal! Lead
me to them at once!"

Von Mitter was too much the soldier not to master his surprise
at once. He saluted, clicked his heels and limped toward the
throne room. He stopped at the threshold, saluted again, and, in
a voice full of quavers, announced:

"His Highness Prince Frederick of Carnavia."

He stepped aside, and the prince pushed past him into the throne
room. At this dramatic entrance there rose from the archbishop,
the Marshal, the princess, the Carnavian ambassador, from all
the court dignitaries, a cry of wonder and astonishment.

"His Highness!"

"Aye!" cried the prince, brokenly, for his joy at seeing the
princess nigh overcame him. "I have been a prisoner of Madame's,
who at this moment is marching on Bleiberg with an army four
thousand strong!" And stumblingly he related his misadventures.

The Marshal did not wait until he had done, nor did the new
Colonel of the cuirassiers; both rushed from the room. The
archbishop frowned; while the princess and the court stared at
the prince with varying emotions. Before the final word had
passed his lips, he approached her Highness, fell on his knee
and raised her hand to his lips. He noticed not how cold it was.

"Thank God, Mademoiselle," he said, "that once more I look into
your eyes. And if one wedding day is gone--well, there is yet
time for another!" He, rose, and proudly before them all he drew
her toward him and kissed her cheek. It was his right; she was,
the light of all his dreams, at once his bride-to-be and lady-
love. But in his joy and eagerness he did not see how pale she
grew at the touch of his lips, nor how the lids of her eyes
trembled and fell.

Next the prince recounted Maurice's adventures, how he became
connected with those at the chateau, even Fitzgerald's fall from
grace. The indignation and surprise which was accorded this
recital was unbounded.

The brown eyes of the princess filled. In a moment she had
traversed the space of ten years to a rare September noon, when
a gray-haired old man had kissed her hand and praised her speech.
A young dog stood beside her, ready for a romp in the park.
Across the path sat her father, who was smiling, and who would
never smile again. How many times had her girlish fancy pictured
the son of that old man! How many times had she dreamed of him--
aye, prayed for him! The room grew dark, and she pressed her
hand over her heart. To her the future was empty indeed. There
was nothing left but the vague perfume of the past, the faint
incense of futile, childish dreams. To stand on the very
threshold of life, and yet to see no joy beyond! She struggled
against the sob which rose, and conquered it.

"To arms, Messieurs, to arms!" cried the prince, feverishly. "To
arms!"

The archbishop stepped forward and took the prince's hand in his
own.

"God wills all things," he said, sadly, "and perhaps he has
willed that your Highness should come too late!" And that
strange, habitual smile was gone--forever. No one could fathom
the true significance of this peculiar speech.

"But "aux armes" was taken up, and spread throughout the city.




CHAPTER XXV


THE FORTUNES OF WAR

War! The whole city was in tumult. The guests were leaving the
hotels, the timid were preparing to fly, and shopkeepers were
putting up their blinds and hiding their valuables; the parks
and cafes were deserted. The railway booking office was crowded,
and a babel of tongues quarreled for precedence. The siege of
Paris was but yesterday's news, and tourists did not propose to
be walled in from the outer world. Some looked upon the scene as
a comic opera; others saw the tragedy of men snarling at one
another's throats.

Two hundred gendarmes patrolled the streets; for in war time the
dregs of a city float to the surface. Above the foreign
legations flags rose, offering protection to all those who
possessed the right to claim it. Less than four thousand troops
had marched from the city that day, but these were the flower of
the army, consisting of two thousand foot, six cannon and twelve
hundred horse. Europe has always depended largely on the cavalry,
which in the past has been a most formidable engine in warfare.

With gay plumes and banners, glittering helmets and flashing
cuirasses, they had gone forth to meet Madame and drive her back
across the range. They had made a brave picture, especially the
royal cuirassiers, who numbered three hundred strong, and who
were to fight not only for glory, but for bread. Fifty of them
had been left behind to guard the palaces.

In the royal bedchamber the king lay, all unconscious of the
fate impending. The brain had ceased to live; only a feeble
pulse stirred irregularly. The state physician shook his head,
and, from time to time, laid his fingers on the unfeeling wrist.
To him it was a matter of a few hours.

But to the girl, whose face lay hidden in the counterpane, close
to one of those senseless hands, to her it was a matter of a
breaking heart, of eyes which could be no longer urged to tears,
the wells having dried up. Dear God, she thought, how cruel it
was! Her tried and trusted friend, the one playmate of her
childhood, was silently slipping out of her life forever. Ah,
what to her were crowns and kingdoms, aye, and even war? Her
father dead, what mattered it who reigned? How she prayed that
he might live! They would go away together, and live in peace
and quiet, undisturbed by the storms of intrigue. . . . It was
not to be; he was dying. She would be the wife of no man; her
father, hovering in spirit above her, would read her heart and
understand. Dead, he would ask no sacrifice of her. Henceforth
only God would be her king, and she would worship him in some
sacred convent.

The old valet, who had served his master from boyhood, stood in
the anteroom and fumbled his lips, his faded eyes red with
weeping. He was losing the only friend he had. Elsewhere the
servants wandered about restlessly, waiting for news from the
front, to learn if they, too, were to join in the mad flight
from the city. Few servants love masters in adversity. Self-
interest is the keynote to their existences.

In the east wing three men were holding a whispered consultation.
The faces of two were pale and deep-lined; the face of the
third expressed a mixture of condolence and triumph. These three
gentlemen were the archbishop, the chancellor and the Austrian
ambassador. History has not taken into account what passed
between these three men, but subsequent events proved that it
signified disaster to one who dreamed of conquest and of power.

Said the ambassador, rising: "After what has been said, his
Imperial Majesty will, I can speak authoritatively, further
discredit Walmoden; for I have this day received information
from a reliable source which precludes any rehabilitation of
that prince. My deepest sympathies are with her Highness; his
Majesty highly honored her unfortunate father. Permit me to bid
you good day, for you know that the matter under my hand needs
my immediate attention."

When he had gone the prelate said: "My friend, our services to
the kingdom are nearly over."

"We are lost!" replied the chancellor. "The king is happy,
indeed."

"I find," said the prelate, "that we have been lost for ten
years. Had this Englishman proved true, it would not have
mattered; had Prince Frederick arrived in time, still it would
not have mattered. But above all, I was determined that Madame
the duchess should not triumph. The end was written ten years
ago. How invincible is fate! How incontestible its decrees!"

In the lower town the students were preparing a riot, which was
to take place that night. Old Stuler's was thronged. Stuler
himself looked on indifferently, even listlessly. He had heard
of Kopf's death.

It was half after five of the afternoon. Six miles beyond the
Althofen bridge, in all thirteen miles from Bleiberg, a long,
low cloud of dust hung over the king's highway. This cloud of
dust was caused by the hurried, rhythmic pad-pad of human feet,
the striking of hoofs and the wheels of cannon. It marked the
progress of an army. To the great surprise of the Marshal, the
prince and the staff, they had pushed thus far during the
afternoon without seeing a sign of the enemy. Was Madame asleep?
Was she so confident her projects were unknown that she had
chosen night as the time of her attack? Night, indeed, when the
strength of her forces would be a matter of conjecture to the
assaulted, who at the suddenness of her approach would succumb
to panic! The prince was jubilant and hopeful. He had no doubt
that they would arrive at the pass just as Madame was issuing
forth. This meant an easy victory, for once the guns covered the
narrow pass, though Madame's army were ten times as strong, its
defeat was certain. A small force might hold it in check for
hours.

A squadron of cuirassiers had been sent forward to reconnoiter,
and as yet none had returned with alarms. The road had many
windings, and was billowed frequently with hills, and ran
through small forests. Only the vast blue bulk of the mountains
remained ever in view.

"We shall drink at the Red Chateau to-night," said the prince,
gaily, to Maurice.

"That we shall," replied Maurice; "and the best in the cellars."

Only the Marshal said nothing; he knew what war was. In his
youth he had served in Transylvania, and he was not minded to
laugh and jest. Then, too, there was injustice on both sides.
Poor devil! as his thoughts recurred to the king. Touched for
the moment by the wings of ambition, which is at best a white
vulture, he had usurped another's throne, and to this end! But
he was less answerable than the archbishop, who had urged him.

Occasionally he glanced back at the native troops, the foot, the
horse, the artillery, and scowled. From these his glance
wandered to the cold, impassive face of General Kronau, who rode
at his side, and he rubbed his nose. Kronau had been a favorite
of Albrecht's . . . How would he act? In truth, the Marshal's
thoughts were not altogether pleasant. Some of these men
surrounding him, exchanging persiflage, might never witness
another sunset. For, while the world would look upon this
encounter as one looks upon a comedy, for some it would serve as
tragedy. Often he lent his ear to the gay banter of the young
American, and watched the careless smile on his face. What was
he doing here? Why was he risking his life for no cause whatever,
an alien, in natural sympathy neither with the kingdom nor with
the duchy? A sad, grim smile parted his lips.