General Meyer following slowly with note-book in hand, smiled appreciatively, as he jotted down the marks gained from time to time by his brilliant "counters," "brackets," and "rocking turns." The crowd roared their applause, and in the music of their cheers, Von Hügelweiler's depression vanished, and his heart sang an answering pæan of jubilee. Like most nervous, self-centred men, he most excelled before an audience when once the initial fear had worn off. And now he was skating as he had never skated before, with a dash, energy, and precision that drew redoubled cheers from the spectators and audible applause from the royal box. Even Meyer, he reflected, with all his malice, could hardly dare to give another the prize now; to do so would be not merely to violate justice, but to insult the intelligence of every man and woman on the ice.
At the conclusion of his effort, Trafford congratulated the Captain warmly on his performance. Von Hügelweiler's dark eyes shone bright with pleasure. Already he saw himself crowned with the invisible laurels of undying fame, receiving the massive silver trophy from the royal hands.
"Thanks, my American friend," he said, heartily, "go on and prosper."
With a few bold strokes Trafford started on his attempt to do superbly what others had done faultlessly. His style instantly arrested attention. Here was no lithe figure full of lissom vitality and vibrant suppleness; no graceful athlete whose arms and legs seemed ever ready to adopt fresh and more elegant poses. But here was an exponent of the ultra-English school, a rigid, braced figure travelling over the ice like an automaton on skates, an upright, inflexible form, sailing along on a perfect edge at an amazing speed, with a look of easy contempt on his face alike for the difficulties of his art and the opinion of his watchers.
Ever and again there was an almost imperceptible flick of the ankle, a slight shifting of the angle of the shoulders, and some difficult turn had been performed, and he was travelling away in a slightly different direction at a slightly increased rate of speed. The crowd watched intently, but with little applause. They felt that it was wonderful, but they did not particularly admire.
To Von Hügelweiler,—trained as he was in the theory and practice of the "Continental" school,—the performance seemed stiff and ugly.
"Mein Gott," cried Einstein, "at what a speed he travels!"
"He wants a bigger rink than the Rundsee!" exclaimed Schmolder. "A man like that should have the Arctic Ocean swept for him."
Von Hügelweiler was less complimentary.
"I don't think we need fear the American, my friends," he said. "He skates his figures fast and big, but with the grace of a dummy. Such stiffness is an insult to the Rundsee, which is the home of elegant skating. See with what a frowning face General Meyer follows this American about!"