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Princess Galva, The

<h3> CHAPTER XVIII </h3> <h4> THE CAPTIVE </h4> In the early part of the seventeenth century a certain noble duchess, taking a journey through the kingdom of San Pietro, paid a visit to her old and valued friend the Countess Ribero, and the guest-chamber in which the august lady spent two nights has since been called the Duchess Room, and it was upon the faded glories of this distinguished apartment that the bewildered eyes of poor Galva Baxendale looked when she came out of her insensibility. The moon shining obliquely in at the long windows flooded parts of the room in a white light, mercilessly picking out the threadbare patches in the ragged tapestries and in the faded embroideries of the chair-backs. A fire burning brightly in the grate somewhat relieved the cold splendour of the moonbeams. Galva was, for a few moments, oblivious to her surroundings. Her head throbbed and ached distractingly, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the carved oaken pillars of the four-post bed on which she was lying, and on the heavy curtains and fringes which hemmed her in. Her first distinct impression was one of suffocation. She had that horror, so common to those who have lived in and love the open air, of all enclosed spaces and smothering draperies. She raised herself slowly, and leaning her head on her hand, took a survey of the surrounding objects. The room was a large one, and was lighted by two windows, reaching nearly to the ground, and composed of many small square panes. On the walls the tarnished frames of pictures, mostly portraits, caught the firelight. Facing her was a large tapestry on which were depicted the figures of three huntsmen, with very thin legs, who, accompanied by prancing dogs, were presumably chasing a stag, which was conveniently silhouetted on the top of a symmetrical mountain. As Galva put her foot to the ground the ludicrous figures seemed to take life and accompany the furniture and the bed in a whirling, fantastic dance, and the girl felt her senses again leaving her. But she must have tottered somehow to the window, for the next she remembered was the cool night breezes of the forest, pine-scented and invigorating, playing upon her forehead. With each inhalation Galva felt her strength coming back to her, and the memory of all that had happened returned to her in every detail. She remembered Mozara and the car, and how, much against her will, he had insisted on running her out to see the Falls on the Ardentella. She had known that it was a very different thing the journey inland, without a chaperone, to the quiet gliding up and down the promenade at Corbo. She knew also that her guardian did not altogether approve of even this latter, and as the powerful car had bounded on past the palace, she had implored the lieutenant to take her back. But the young man would not believe she was serious and had laughed at her fears. They would be back in an hour, he had told her, and so, helpless, she had made the best of it, promising herself a sharp retaliation on her escort when she was safely home again. Galva remembered stopping at a lonely spot where two gate-posts stood sentinel by the side of the road. There was a wood, too, comprised, as far as she could recollect, of pine-trees. Mozara had here alighted to attend to his engine, and after propping open the bonnet had gone back to the tonneau, saying he wanted to get a spanner from the tool-bag he kept there. There was a confused memory after that of a cloth being swathed about her head and the sickly sweet smell of chloroform. Then nothing more—until she had come to herself in this old-world room. She raised her head in the act of listening and tiptoed to the door. She could detect stealthy movements on the landing outside, and through a little crack in the oaken panel came the gleam of a light. Galva was no coward. She had the heart of the Estratos and a line of ancestors whose deeds of bravery were chronicled back to the dim ages. But there was something uncanny in this weird room, with the flickering firelight the cold moon and the unknown silent watchers on the landing. Then she heard the footsteps creep away, and, unable to bear the suspense longer, the girl seized the handle of the door and shook it furiously. She tried to call out, to ask who was there, but her tongue seemed a useless lump in her dry mouth, and sound would not come. The footsteps outside stopped at the first sound of the rattled door, and Galva heard whispered voices. Then a key grated in the lock, and the girl retreated to the farther end of the room. At the first sound she had taken from her pocket a tiny revolver, hardly more than a toy, which Edward, not knowing what was in store for them in San Pietro, had bought for her in Paris. She saw the door slowly opened and an old man enter. Behind him Teresa carried a tray on which were a flask of wine and some covered dishes. "You are ready for supper, se�orita?" Galva gazed wonderingly at them. All fear had left her now, and she fingered her revolver confidently. The firelight glinted on the little plated barrel and threw gigantic shadows of the old couple on the yellow ceiling. She was speaking in a low voice which she would hardly have recognized as her own. "Put the tray down," every word came distinctly, "and then stand over there—where I can see you both. Then tell me what this all means." Pieto looked at his wife hesitatingly, and pointed to the tray. Teresa set it down. "Now," went on the girl, "I want a full explanation—where is Lieutenant Mozara? I don't think I know either of you—do I?" "The lieutenant has left the castle." "It seems that the lieutenant has played a trick on me—a trick that will cost him dear—and," meaningly, "those who are with him in it." The old people stood with bowed heads and the man mumbled something below his breath. "Speak up, man." Pieto raised palsied finger-tips to his mouth. "We are not the servants of Lieutenant Mozara," he said. Galva stamped her little shoe. "Then go to the man who is your master, whoever he is, and tell him to come to me here. If either of you two enter this room again without my full permission I will shoot you down like I would a couple of dangerous dogs—now go." Taking up the lantern which he had set down on the floor on entering the room, the old man made for the door, forcing himself in front of his wife in his anxiety to get clear of the little vixen who could hold a revolver so straight and steady. Teresa gave Galva a long and searching look, then she too followed her craven lord and master. And Galva gave a little laugh as she found herself alone again. She took the cover from one of the dishes and bent her head over the contents. Whatever could be said of the old dame downstairs Galva noticed with satisfaction that she was no amateur in the art of the kitchen, and the dainty meal was soon eaten with the relish of a healthy fourteen-hour hunger. For the captive told herself that everything depended upon her having the strength to seize any advantage in her position that might occur. She went again to the open window and looking out judged that she was some twenty-five feet above the ground level, but that below that again ran a moat-like trench, dug perhaps to allow light to the cellars. She thought of the curtains, estimating their length with her eye; they might perhaps reach the twenty-five feet, but there was no way of crossing the trench. True, the portico of the building was only perhaps fifteen feet below her, but it lay some distance to the left and was quite inaccessible. Galva glanced at the little strap watch on her wrist and saw that it was past ten. From below stairs there came no sound, and she told herself that her jailers had retired for the night, and, again with the view of husbanding her strength, the prisoner prepared to follow their example. While at supper she had heard the stealthy footsteps again outside her door and the grating of bolts hastily shot into their sockets. It was evident that escape was not to be thought of that night. The glass of excellent Chianti that she had taken with her meal had quite restored her courage and spirits, and she began to look upon the adventure as rather interesting. It seemed clear to her that whoever was responsible for the outrage meant her no immediate harm, and she had no fear whatever of the old couple down below. With some little difficulty she piled three of the heavy oak chairs by the door as a precaution against a midnight surprise, and taking off only her outer garments and her shoes, slipped in between the sheets. The fire, which she had replenished from the heap of logs in the grate, shone dully on the rich old furnishings of the room and gave a sense of drowsy comfort and well-being. Candles and matches she found on a little table which she pushed up near the bed. The revolver lay handy underneath her pillow. Miss Galva, in fact, was very comfortable indeed, and had it not been for the thought of her guardian and Anna Paluda and the anxiety they must be feeling, she would have been really happy. It was broad day when she awoke and the birds in the forest were making merry music. The sun shone in at the windows and gave life to the somewhat sombre apartment. Galva's watch told her it was nine o'clock. She was feeling remarkably well, her headache had entirely left her, and she was ravenously hungry again. A sound outside the window caused her to slip on her garments and look out. Beneath her the little patch of poor soil that lay between the house and the trees had been, at parts, coaxed into a cultivation of sorts, and the old woman who the night before had brought her supper was gathering some kind of green stuff, putting it into the basket that she carried slung over her arm. From her window, too, the girl could see over the trees to the country beyond—an arid rock-strewn waste and here and there patches of forest land. Away in the distance the range of the Yeldo hills showed a delicate mauve against the morning sky. Galva watched the old woman for a moment in silence, then— "Good-morning, Teresa." The girl had heard the name the evening before, and on the old woman looking up, she nodded brightly. "Is breakfast ready, Teresa?" she went on. The old woman dipped her head sourly. "Pieto shall bring it up to you," she said. "Thanks, so much—but, by the way, tell him to take great care how he does it. Listen. He is to bring it in on a tray which he will set down on the little table here. Then he will hold up his hands, both of them, over his head and walk out backwards." Teresa was making her way slowly towards the house, giving scant attention to the voice above her. Galva raised her voice. "You understand, don't you, Teresa? Because if your husband doesn't do as he's told, I'll have to shoot him." The woman in the garden stopped at this and looked up. "You would shoot my Pieto?" "Oh, don't be afraid, Teresa; I'd only shoot him in the leg. Then you'd have to nurse him, you know, and that would be a pity, wouldn't it? Think of keeping an eye on a prisoner and an invalid at the same time." Galva never forgot the pantomime of the next few minutes. Covered by the revolver, the old man shuffled unsteadily into the room with the tray, splashing the white cloth with the contents of the coffee pot. Then, after putting it down where Galva bid him, he began his retreat, backwards, hands held high over his head. Near the door he came to grief with a crash over one of the chairs his prisoner had used as a barricade the night before. The old man remembered to keep his hands up, and the species of contortions, reminiscent of Swedish exercises, with, which he tried to regain his feet brought tears of laughter into Galva's eyes. He was successful at last, and the girl heard his limping steps descend the stairs, where, with many curses, he seemed to be, as Galva expressed it to herself, "taking it out of the missus!" Left alone the prisoner poured herself out a cup of fragrant coffee. "There seems to be a humorous side to even this adventure," she said as she contentedly nibbled at a piece of buttered toast. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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