Under the Big Dipper

by Desiderius George Dery

Once more he was alone—but not lonely. He had seen her and spoken to her—face to face. He felt as if he had been on that high mountain and had come down again, his face shining. “God is good to me,” he breathed to himself. He was grateful for the silence of the room, grateful also that no one came in to disturb his thoughts. Mechanically he sat down and lit a cigarette. Everything was going well—everything would go well, if the Princess agreed. How easy it would be if the Comtesse alone were concerned! And as he thought of Helène his whole being dissolved into pity. How worn she looked and yet how beautiful! The blue of her eyes was the color of heaven itself. Would they ever shine on him with love?

The sound of voices in the hall woke him from his dreams. A moment later the door was pushed open and the alert face of Rachel with its dark and flashing eyes showed itself in the doorway. She was followed into the room by her father.

The Rosen who appeared now was an entirely different Rosen from the servile trader of the previous evening. He was neatly dressed in sober black and faultless linen, and gave the impression of being a scholar rather than a tradesman. As Morton shook hands with him, he could not help noting the well-cared-for fingers which met his in a hearty pressure. A smile lighted up his features. John was drawn to the man.

In obedience to a nod from her father, Rachel withdrew and left the men to themselves.

John was full of his plans and eager to have Rosen’s opinion. The latter listened attentively to all the details, nodding occasionally in approval. Morton had taken from his pocket a map of the country, laid it on the table and pointed out the routes he had arranged on. Rosen agreed that the plan was a good one, but as John alone was to get the girls out of the castle it would be necessary for him to have a diagram of the town. Rosen supplied this by drawing one very carefully on a sheet of paper. He advised John that bribes were dangerous in the present juncture of affairs—there was too much risk in them. There would, however, be nothing to fear from Marco. Once the girls were out of the town the sparsely settled country would offer few obstacles to his getting across the border. If John could cut the telegraph wires on the way as he planned to do, it would help by delaying the police.

But he would meet his greatest difficulty in the actual crossing of the border, thought Rosen. There was no road over the mountains for hundreds of miles, except by means of the passes, and these were well guarded by the military and the Lingari gendarmes. If he attempted to cross without a passport, Herr Morton might have to fight for it. That was the weak part of the plan. Did Herr Morton realize it?

John coolly said he did realize it; but he would take the risk. He was of the firm opinion that he would manage to get through somehow.

Rosen suggested that Morton and his men should pass as smugglers. Tobacco smuggling was quite common over the border, and the guards were amenable to the persuasive power of gold. “It’s the yellow metal, Herr Morton,” remarked Rosen with a smile, “and not paper, that will get you across.”

Morton said that he would see to it that he had a sufficient supply of this with him.

These matters having been settled to both their satisfactions, John begged Rosen to instruct his daughter to purchase a proper outfit for the young ladies—an outfit proper for the journey and at the same time befit their station in life. Rosen promised to see to that, and the two men parted for the day.