“My dear! As if I could have suspected you would search for him! You are in Rhaetia not to pursue, but to give an Emperor, who wishes to have a certain Princess for his consort, a chance to fall in love with herself.”
“If he will—if it can be so. But what do Helen Mowbray and Letitia Manchester know about the love affairs of emperors and princesses? Au revoir, dear friend; I’m going. By and by, if you have courage to lift your eyes, you’ll see me waving a handkerchief flag at the rock-corner up there.”
Virginia took the alpenstock which she had laid down, and began picking her way daintily yet pluckily toward the col which she had named as her goal. There was another route to it, leading on to the highest peak of the Schneehorn, only to be dared by experienced climbers, but the way by which the girl and her companion had set out from Alleheiligen nearly four hours ago, was merely fatiguing, never dangerous, and Virginia knew that Miss Portman was safe, and not half as much frightened as she pretended.
They had started at eight, just as the September sun had begun to draw the night chill out of the keen mountain air; and now it was close upon twelve. The Princess was hungry.
In Nordeck, the frontier town of Rhaetia as you come in from Germany, she had bought rücksacks for herself and Miss Portman, to be used upon just such mountain excursions as this; and to-day the brown canvas bags were being tested for the first time. Each rücksack stored an adequate luncheon for its bearer, while on top, secured by straps passed across the shoulders, lay a folded wrap to be used in case of rain.
Virginia’s burden grew heavy as she mounted, though at first its weight had seemed trifling. When she had waved her handkerchief at the turning, and passed out of Miss Portman’s sight, it occurred to her that it would be clever to lighten the rücksack and satisfy her appetite at the same time.
The one difficulty was that, in her present position, she could not safely unstrap the bag from her shoulders, open it, take out the parcel of luncheon, and strap it on again. The way was too narrow, and the rocks too slippery, to attempt such liberties; at a short distance, however, and only a little out of the path to the col, she could see a small green plateau, the very place for a rest. But could she reach it? The girl stood still, and looked wistfully across.
The place could be gained only by a scramble over a ledge of formidable rocks, and climbing in good earnest here and there, yet—if the thing could be done at all, it could be done in ten minutes, and to come back would be comparatively easy. Virginia was tempted.
“The dear Letitia will be eating her own lunch by this time, and won’t miss me if my half hour is a long one,” she thought. “And anyway, I said half an hour or so. That means almost anything, when it comes to an argument.”
Another moment, and the girl had started. She was brave at first; but when she had gone half way—a way which was longer and far more difficult than she had fancied—she was conscious of a certain sinking of the heart. She even felt some qualms of sympathy with the sentiments and intentions Miss Portman had expressed, and heartily wished herself back by that good lady’s side. But it was against her principles to be conquered, especially when being conquered meant turning coward, or something like it, and she scrambled on obstinately, her cheeks burning, her heart thumping, and her lips pressed together.