V 
 
 GLE.NN XEGLI-Y 
 
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 DtJJ^E 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 FRIENDS OF 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Glenn ...R.. Negl©!.. 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/aristokiaOOpeze 
 
\\ t- licw low and i)as>r(l ovtr many iiiterostiiisj hiiildino'S 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 BY 
 
 A. WASHINGTON PEZET 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 TONY SARG 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1919 
 
Copyright, 1919. by 
 The Centxjby Co. 
 
 Published, May, 1919 
 
r:^ 
 
 TO F. A. PEZET 
 
 GOOD FRIEND AND DEVOTED FATHER 
 
 IN LOVING GRATITUDE 
 
 FOR THE SUGGESTIONS AND INSPIRATION 
 
 WHICH MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 We flew low and passed over many interesting 
 
 buildings Frontispiece 
 
 Facing page 
 On my entrance they rushed at me wildly like a pack 
 
 of hounds 12 
 
 I was sorry for the fracas, as I had no desire to 
 
 wreck the Wigleigh home 72 
 
 "Draw a month's pay in advance in lieu of notice" 120 
 
 I wrote incessantly, for the baron was at his best . 132 
 
 Mr. Michael Fogarty gave him a shove that sent him 
 
 reeling 144 
 
 "Would your lordship care to sec my reference?" . 170 
 
 He seized my arm and poured out his heart-ache . 176 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MANY years ago — to be exact, fifty years 
 after the termination of the great World 
 War of 1914-19 — I, John Smith, American, had 
 the great romance of my life. My name is so 
 common that I must begin by informing my read- 
 ers that I am that John Smith who received the 
 thanks of the world and a life pension for discover- 
 ing the palatable food capsule which solved the 
 problem of the cost of living and the distribution 
 of edible products. However, this story has 
 nothing to do with the Smith capsule, with which 
 you are all familiar from daily use. This is an 
 account of my personal connection with certain 
 historical events. 
 
 In these enlightened times few persons are ig- 
 norant of history, but I shall briefly outline the 
 great events. During the peace conference in 
 Paris in 1920, the world was suddenly shaken to 
 
 3 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 its foundations by the simultaneous outbreak of 
 socialistic revolutions in all the capitalistic coun- 
 tries. Everywhere the institutions that people 
 had thought to be the very bed-rock of their so- 
 called civilization were overthrown. By the year 
 1925 order had been brought out of chaos, and the 
 Universal International Socialistic Democracy was 
 established. In our new calendar 1925 became 
 the year one. 
 
 At first there was great apprehension of counter- 
 revolutions in the interest of the disgruntled aris- 
 tocrats and capitalists of the various states. It 
 soon became apparent, however, that these ad- 
 herents of the old regime were rather more of a 
 nuisance than an actual menace. They could 
 never agree among themselves, so that their re- 
 peated attempts to regain their lost powers always 
 ended in futile ignominy, crushed by the ridicule 
 of the world. 
 
 Most of the people who had been through the 
 horrors of the Great War and greater Revolution 
 were too happy in their enjoyment of what they 
 fatuously assumed was the millennium to trouble 
 
 4 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 much about the outcries of a contemptible minor- 
 ity. As the joyous flood subsided, and the new 
 order became the normal standard of daily life, it 
 became increasingly evident that even the opin- 
 ions of a minority should be given a hearing in an 
 age that claimed to have enthroned the abstract 
 sense of justice, and to have discovered the moral 
 law in the soul of man. Certainly we who look 
 back in calmness and fairness on that period of 
 extraordinary transition can extend some meed of 
 sympathy to the downtrodden few whose only J 
 fault was that they had lived too long. ' 
 
 There were many pathetic cases. Think for a 
 moment of the plight of those estimable ladies of 
 the Middle Western States whose husbands had 
 amassed fortunes, who had spent a lifetime in ac- 
 quiring a taste for luxuries, who had painstakingly 
 learned to speak an English that was never heard 
 on land or sea, who had struggled for years to for- 
 get how to do anything for themselves, who had at 
 last climbed to the top of the mountain, only to 
 find that there was no mountain and that all their 
 hard-earned assets had become liabilities. 
 
 5 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "My God I don't we get our innings?" they 
 cried. 
 
 The stronger struggled; the weaker curled up 
 and died. There is no sadder page in history. 
 It was through the efforts of an Anglo-American, 
 one George Boggs, son of the chewing-gum king, 
 that the unhappy minority at last obtained justice. 
 
 In the fifth year of our era a tract of land in 
 central Europe was set aside by the International 
 Congress for the exclusive use of the submerged 
 classes. The territory was theirs in perpetuity, 
 or, rather, as long as one of them or one of their 
 descendants remained alive to claim it. Within 
 its limits they could live as they pleased, making 
 their own laws and having their own institutions, 
 no matter how reactionary these might be. From 
 this country they could exclude the rest of the 
 world if they chose. But they, in turn, could not 
 venture out of it without express permission from 
 the International Congress. 
 
 Thousands of my readers have visited the fam- 
 ous ruins of Aristokia, but not all of them are old 
 enough to have seen tliat wondrous city-state in 
 
 6 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 the heyday of its glory. I saw it in all its tran- 
 scendent picturesqueness. And it was there that 
 I met romance. Her name was Gwendolyn — was 
 and is, for she is now a very nice old lady, and we 
 are still living together. 
 
 Before I become personal I must tell you a little 
 more about Aristokia. It was organized much 
 more like an exclusive country club of the past 
 age than like a nation. Pedigree was the all-im- 
 portant qualification for membership, or, rather, 
 citizenship. A self-appointed board of Royal 
 Blues passed on all seeking admission to Aristokia. 
 From among themselves, by secret vote, they 
 elected an emperor, who reigned as absolute mon- 
 arch for five years. His advisers were the Royal 
 Blues and such others as he might appoint. In 
 all matters of law, religion, and etiquette they 
 were supreme. 
 
 Of course the Royal Blues were all the ex- 
 kaisers, -kings, -emperors, -czars, and -princes of 
 Europe, and their families; that is, the German 
 royalties, for what royal family of Europe did not 
 have German blood? These were the ne plus 
 
 7 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ultra of the nation. The hoi polloi was made up 
 of non-German royalties, the lesser nobilities, the 
 slightly illegitimate, and the army of expatriated 
 American millionaires. There was no working 
 class in Aristokia. All labor, whether menial or 
 skilled, was contracted for from the outside world, 
 and these workers lived in model villages just 
 beyond the frontier. 
 
 The great problem for the Aristokians was that 
 of income. Their personal fortunes were steadily 
 dwindling as the various capitalistic enterprises 
 in which their fortunes were invested were gradu- 
 ally mutualized or socialized and taken over by the 
 International Government of the Workers of the 
 World. They solved their problem with charac- 
 teristic savoir-faire. 
 
 For three months each year they opened up 
 Aristokia to the tourists of the world. These 
 came in millions, paid admission to the country 
 and to almost everything in the country, and lived 
 in the hundred or so palatial hotels built for the 
 purpose of housing them. They came to see the 
 magnificent palaces and mansions, which most of 
 
 8 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 you have known only as ruins; to visit the won- 
 derful museum where were assembled all the crown 
 jewels and royal relics of history; to gamble at the 
 great casino, the only institution of its kind left 
 in the world; to drink in the numerous cafes and 
 saloons, quaint relics of the past ; and they came, I 
 must admit, — for even a social revolution cannot 
 destroy the snobbishness and love of ermine and 
 purple inherent in human nature, — they came to 
 gape at the great ones, and to see the aristocrat in 
 his native haunt. To many the imperial opera, 
 theater, and art galleries were added attractions, 
 for without question art, perhaps a little formal- 
 ized, but still great art, flourished in Aristokia as 
 nowhere else. 
 
 Obviously there could be no social intercourse 
 between the Aristokians and the "nobodies," as 
 they termed all outsiders. There was no excep- 
 tion to this rule. The penalty for infringement 
 was immediate expulsion for the offender and the 
 ostracism of his relatives during a certain period 
 of time. 
 
 Gwendolyn was an Aristokian, the most beau- 
 
 9 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 tiful girl in Aristokia. How, then, did I meet 
 her? To put it quite brutally and in the ver- 
 nacular of a past age, Gwendolyn picked me up. 
 
 It was in the forty-fifth year of our era — that 
 is, just forty-eight years ago — that I arrived in 
 Aristokia in the company of a motley crew of 
 tourists from all the corners of the earth. It was 
 the first week of the open season, and I had 
 thought that by coming early I could avoid the 
 rush, but already thousands were pouring in. 
 
 I had been fortunate in securing a fine front 
 room at the Hotel Hohenzollern, owned by the 
 family of that name. It was quite the best in 
 Aristokia; but the prices! They were amazing. 
 The place certainly lived up to the ancient reputa- 
 tion of the robber barons of Brandenburg. I was 
 undismayed, however, for I had just been granted 
 my life pension, and was feeling opulent. 
 
 Then, too, what price was not worth paying for 
 this experience'? Remember, I was just thirty I 
 I had been born in our era. I knew nothing of 
 the old regime except what I had read in highly 
 colored literature. Think of being able to step 
 
 lO 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 into the past I I crossed an imaginary line, and 
 half a century vanished before my eyes. And 
 what a half-century it had been, filled with more 
 momentous changes than any that had occurred 
 in a similar period of time in the world's history I 
 
 Try to conceive a world of kings, princes, 
 nobles, wives, and courtezans; a world in which a 
 gambling casino, a stock-market, saloons, and beer- I 
 gardens, generals, admirals, and millionaires were | 
 realities. Try to picture to yourself a state in 
 which the institution of marriage existed in all its 
 archaic potency; a world in which women did not • 
 vote and in which their equality with men was 
 unrecognized; in which man must take the initi- 
 ative in all matters of sex; a deliciously quaint 
 world of marriages, scandals, divorces, and duels I 
 
 I shall never forget my feelings on my arrival 
 at the Hotel Hohenzollern. Everything was 
 strange and new to me. It was not that the build- 
 ing differed in outward appearance from the aver- 
 age New York hotel. The difference was more 
 subtle; it was decorative rather than architectural. / 
 In New York at that time utilitarianism was ram- 
 
 11 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 pant. Either an austere, sanitary simplicity was 
 the fashion or a wild, bizarre Russianism, the heri- 
 tage of the Revolution. But in Aristokia there 
 was a real feeling for, an understanding of, beauty. 
 
 The lobby of the Hotel Hohenzollern was beau- 
 tiful. The first thing that struck me was the total 
 absence of all our well-known mechanical appli- 
 ances and contraptions for handling baggage and 
 securing accommodations. Instead, the most con- 
 spicuous feature was a regiment of youths in fine 
 uniforms. On my entrance these rushed at me 
 wildly like a pack of hounds. For an instant I 
 recoiled ; then, as they took my hand baggage from 
 me, I realized that while they might be bent on 
 robbery, their intention was not assault. 
 
 "This way, sir," said the youth who had hold 
 of my pet bag. To be addressed as "sir" was a 
 new experience for me. I took a fancy to the 
 youth. He led the way toward a spot where a 
 dense mass of people, other tourists, were gathered 
 before a sort of marble altar, behind which certain 
 lofty dignitaries hovered majestically. We stood 
 in the crowd and patiently awaited our turn to 
 
 12 
 

 On my entrance they ruslied at me wildly like a pack of hounds 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 gain the ear of the dispenser of accommodations, 
 who, I later discovered, was called the room clerk. 
 Over the altar was suspended a neat gilt sign that 
 read, "British-American Room Clerk." Farther 
 along were signs in French, Spanish, German, and 
 other languages. The uniformed youth caught 
 my eye and remarked : 
 
 "The sign used to read, 'English Room Clerk,' 
 but the Americans, Australians, and Canadians ob- 
 jected; so it was changed to that." 
 
 I smiled. 
 
 "And we thought nationalism was dead," I re- 
 marked aloud. 
 
 "The Irish still object," said the youth at my 
 side. 
 
 My turn arrived, and I approached the altar. 
 The high priest — room clerk, I should say — looked 
 at me intently. It confused me, and I forgot what 
 I had planned to say. I had never been looked 
 at in this way before. The fellow had an X-ray 
 eye that seemed to penetrate my clothes. It was 
 most embarrassing. When at last I spoke, he 
 turned away from me and entered into a lively 
 
 13 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 conversation with another clerk who had simul- 
 taneously turned away from the stout man at my 
 right. I looked at my uniformed attendant, and 
 he smiled at me sympathetically. The room clerk 
 was talking volubly with his friend and laughing. 
 His accent was American. This gave me an idea. 
 
 "I 'm an American," I shouted. 
 
 The only effect of this outburst was to inspire 
 the stout man on my right to bellow, "I 'm Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 "Decidedly, nationalism is not dead," I thought. 
 
 Suddenly the clerk stopped laughing, and turned 
 to me wearily. He raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "What would you like to pay*? " he asked. 
 
 "Very little," I replied, which I thought rather 
 good. 
 
 He smiled wanly. "I have a front room on 
 the tenth floor for fifteen dollars." 
 
 "A week"?" I asked, delighted and surprised. 
 
 The clerk said something to his friend about the 
 boring nature of professional humorists, and re- 
 marked in a far-away voice, tinged with melan- 
 choly : 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "A day. And that 's without foodj" he added 
 quickly as I was about to speak. 
 
 "Have n't you anything cheaper^" 
 
 "Yes; back room, twelve dollars. You won't 
 like it." 
 
 "All right," I replied meekly. 
 
 The clerk pushed a book toward me, a thing of 
 colossal size, and said, "Register," which opera- 
 tion consisted in writing, "John Smith, New York, 
 U. S. A." 
 
 The clerk looked at it, and smiled at me enig- 
 matically. I did not understand that smile at the 
 time, but the next day I remembered it vividly. 
 
 The clerk handed a key to one of my young men 
 in uniform, and I was led to the elevators and 
 whisked up to my room. 
 
 The two boys placed my bags on benches, un- 
 strapped them, opened one window, closed another, 
 turned on the electric light in the bath-room, 
 showed me the closets, and asked me most solici- 
 tously and in a most kindly and charming manner 
 if I thought I should be comfortable. I assured 
 them that everything was delightful; but as they 
 
 15 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 made no move to go, I thought to be polite and 
 asked them to sit down. They thanked me pro- 
 fusely, but explained that such action would not 
 be consistent with their duties. There followed 
 a pause, broken by a remark that they had made 
 before, "Anything else, sir^" I liked that "sir." 
 Then they held out their hands. I shook hands 
 with each of them in turn. They looked annoyed. 
 I was wondering in what way I had offended them 
 when I noticed that they were pointing in an off- 
 hand manner to a large sign on the back of the 
 door. It read as follows : 
 
 IMPERIAL EDICT NO. 313 
 
 Within the Territories of the Aristokian Em- 
 pire Tipping (The voluntary donation of a gratuity 
 to a servitor) Is Customary and Obligatory. It 
 Will Be Incumbent upon All Persons Accepting 
 AND Enjoying the Hospitality of the Realm to 
 Comply with All the Rules and Regulations Con- 
 cerning Tipping Which Constitute the Spirit and 
 Letter of This Edict. Failure so to Do Will Sub- 
 ject Them to Arrest and Prosecution According to 
 the By-Law Here Appended. 
 
 Otto, Rex Imperator. 
 16 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 By-Law No. 175B: 
 
 Any One Found Guilty in the Imperial Courts 
 OF A Violation of Imperial Edict No. 313 Will Be 
 Fined Not Less than $500 and Not More than $1,- 
 000, or Expelled from the Realm or Both. 
 
 Prince Von Hohenlohe, 
 Imp. Sect. 
 
 rules and regulations a violation of which will 
 constitute an infraction of the edict 
 
 10 per cent, (ten per centum) of the amount of the 
 charge for the service rendered is the MINIMUM TIP 
 allowable. Smaller amounts will be refused, and the 
 mere act of offering such a smaller amount will be inter- 
 preted as a violation of Edict No. 313. 
 
 MINIMUM SCALE OF FIXED TIPS 
 
 MINIMUM 
 
 servitor service rendered tip 
 
 Bell-boys Showing guest to room .... Each $0.50 
 
 (lOc extra for each bag.) 
 Bell-boys Any other no-charge service Each .25 
 
 Valet Packing and unpacking, per trunk 2.50 
 
 Valet Packing and unpacking, per bag. I.OO 
 
 Valet Advice regarding sartorial or 
 
 other matters i.OO 
 
 Coat-check boy Per garment checked 25 
 
 Wash-room boy Handing towel 05 
 
 17 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Wash-room boy Preparing water 05 
 
 Wash-room boy Dusting off with whisk-broom. . . .10 
 Elevator boys (Except first trip to room) per 
 
 floor & trip 01* 
 
 *(From first to tenth floor same 
 
 rate as to tenth floor.) 
 Guests sojourning in the hotel 
 one week or more will pay the fol- 
 lowing weekly: 
 
 Chambermaids 2.00 
 
 Room waiters 1.00 
 
 This is an extra and does not 
 exempt from regular 10 per 
 cent, charge for meals. 
 
 I turned away from the sign, abashed; I was 
 blushing furiously. I fumbled in my pockets. 
 
 "Are you bell-boys^" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir," they replied in unison. 
 
 What sensitive little fellows they were I How 
 tactfully they had called my attention to the edict ! 
 I gave them each double the legal minimum in 
 compensation for my stupidity. I had still much 
 to learn. They said, "Thank you, sir," and bowed 
 themselves out. 
 
 I was about to unpack when a knock at the door 
 arrested me. I opened it. A person entered, 
 
 18 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 bowing obsequiously. He was in civilian dress, 
 but of an odd cut. I remembered that I had seen 
 persons in illustrations in old novels wearing simi- 
 lar clothes. The thing he had on was called a 
 cutaway. 
 
 He informed me that he was the valet and in- 
 sisted on unpacking my bags for me. I let him 
 do it, a bit frightened and apologetic. He took 
 all my suits away with him, — they needed tailor- 
 ing, he explained. I thanked him and over-tipped 
 him. He, too, called me "sir." I thrilled to the 
 base of my democratic spine. 
 
 The valet had imparted to me the valuable in- 
 formation that eight o'clock p. m. (Twenty 
 o'clock, our time. The Aristokians still reckoned 
 time in the old way) was the fashionable hour at 
 which to dine. 
 
 As it was then only half-past seven, I sat down 
 near a window to think. So many impressions 
 had struck my consciousness in pell-mell confusion 
 that I felt the urgent need of a quiet moment 
 alone in which to coordinate, classify, and stow 
 away in the proper pigeonholes of my brain the 
 
 19 
 
 r 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 totally new and, to me, extraordinarily fascinat- 
 ing data of experience. 
 
 I thought of the bell-boys, and the valet. How 
 strange it must be to earn a living by serving 
 others I Yet they seemed perfectly happy. But 
 why should n't they be? They must make a for- 
 tune in tips. 
 
 My mind drifted to the room clerk. What an 
 odd person! How unnecessarily rude he had 
 seemed I And yet was it rudeness? As the 
 weeks passed, and I became a fixture at the hotel, I 
 came to know that clerk well, and his manner to 
 me was subsequently delightfully cordial. At the 
 time of my meditation I had not grasped the fact 
 that persons who deal with humanity in bulk have 
 to adopt some form of protective armor. The 
 clerk's manner reminded me of anecdotes told by 
 my grandmother of the two weeks she had once 
 spent in New York. 
 
 My gaze wandered out of the window and over 
 the great city. Its white palaces were bathed in 
 the warm glow of an evening sun. The green 
 lace-work of foliage intervened everywhere, soft- 
 
 20 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ening the outlines of buildings. In no matter 
 what direction one looked, a picture perfect in com- 
 position unfolded to the eye. There was not one 
 discordant note in all that symphony of line and 
 curve, marble and stone. It seemed to me as if all 
 the beauty in our esthetically starved world had 
 been concentrated here. When I thought of what 
 the proletariat had done I shivered. 
 
 Dinner I found to be a fascinating ceremony, 
 a rite both artistic and religious. It was not what 
 it is fast becoming among us, an act of bodily hy- 
 giene, such as washing one's teeth or gargling. 
 God forgive me for having helped to make it that 
 by discovering the capsule ! 
 
 I sat at a table on which there were flowers, 
 silverware, fine china, and glass. The room was 
 carpeted, softly lighted, and beautiful. And oh, 
 the joy I experienced at being waited on by a real 
 servant, one who was human enough to forget part 
 of my order I My order I Ah, the bliss of it, to 
 eat food, and not be obliged to swallow one of m)^ 
 own capsules in a glass of water, jerked at me by 
 an automatic, hygienic contrivance. 
 
 21 
 
 ) . 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 After a delicious meal, washed down by wine, 
 the first I had ever tasted, I sipped my coffee, look- 
 ing about me and smoking an excellent cigar. It 
 was a source of great satisfaction to be able to 
 smoke without fear of arrest. The constitutional 
 amendment prohibiting the use of tobacco in all 
 forms in the United States had just been ratified 
 and made effective, and during the preceding 
 months I had been very miserable. On one occa- 
 sion, when some friends were smokinii with me in 
 jmy apartment, some one had reported smoke issu- 
 |ing from my windows. Rather than confess the 
 'truth and risk imprisonment, it being my second 
 ' offense, we had let ourselves be deluged by the fire 
 department. 
 
 At that time, too, the agitation for the sup- 
 pression of tea and coffee as drugs had just begun. 
 I wondered as I sat in the dining-room, watching 
 the proletariat doing all the things they were not 
 allowed to do in their democratic paradise, how 
 long these repressions of the individual will would 
 last. The frightful reaction now setting in was 
 plainly forecast then. 
 
 22 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I observed the table manners of my compatriots. 
 No wonder there were faddists who claimed that 
 all public eating was indecent. 
 
 When I paid my bill, I overtipped the waiter 
 grandly, and then I strolled out to the Kaiser Wil- 
 helm II Platz and turned down the Boulevard 
 Romanoff in the direction of the Imperial Opera- 
 House. 
 
 I heard Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde." How 
 beautiful, melodic, and tuneful it seemed to me I 
 What a relief after the noisy disharmonies of the 
 Chinaman, Wu Swang Chang, then so much the 
 rage in other parts of the world. 
 
 I was seated in an orchestra chair toward the 
 left of the auditorium, at the foot of one of the 
 grand-tier boxes. During the first intermission 
 I looked about me curiously. The greater part of 
 the audience was composed of tourists. Aristo- 
 kians did not attend the opera much during the 
 open season ; only a few of the private boxes were 
 occupied. 
 
 Suddenly I became aware of a perceptible stir, a 
 murmur and buzz of voices such as is caused in a 
 
 23 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 crowd by its concentration on a common object. 
 I turned, moved by the general impulse, in the 
 direction of the nearest box to my left. 
 
 There stood a dapper creature in gorgeous uni- 
 form of blue and gold, his bosom resplendent with 
 decorations. He had a black mustache, and eyes 
 that burned with the deep glow of banked fires. 
 His manner was graceful and courtly to an extraor- 
 dinary degree. The crowd seemed tremendously 
 impressed. I wondered if it could be the emperor. 
 
 The other occupants of the box were a middle- 
 aged man with a monocle, a stout woman buried 
 in jewels, which seemed to hang about her like a 
 parasitic growth of vines on a tropical tree, and 
 a young woman who sat with her back to the 
 audience. She had rather lovely arms and shoul- 
 ders. The effulgent military gentleman bowed 
 low, kissed her hand, and departed. 
 
 She turned, and I became acutely aware of 
 brown eyes and reddish-golden hair. She looked 
 at me steadily, unflinchingly, but in a somewhat 
 impersonal manner that was new to me, and which 
 made me willing, even anxious, to return her gaze. 
 
 24 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Ordinarily I would have turned away. I was 
 rather fed up on that sort of thing. In America I 
 had received many offers of mating ; in fact, I had 
 been pursued by females most annoyingly. 
 
 Now that I am an old man and can speak 
 with aloofness of myself as I was in those days, 
 I feel no hesitation in saying that I was cursed, or 
 blessed, as you will, with good looks. I stood six 
 feet unshod. I was the perfect Nordic type por- 
 trayed with such persistence in the popular novels 
 of Robert W. Chambers and other writers for the 
 bourgeoisie of the early twentieth century. One 
 of the principal reasons for my visit to Aristokia 
 had been to find surcease from the importunities 
 to which I had been subjected. 
 
 During the immortal love duet I found myself 
 listening to Wagner with my ears while I scanned 
 her very beautiful face with my eyes. 
 
 When the curtain fell for the second intermis- 
 sion, she rose and left the box. I suddenly real- 
 ized that I must take a stroll in the foyer to see 
 the crowd to advantage. But the crowd did not 
 interest me much. Such a mob of tourists, all 
 
 25 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 gaping at one another in their avid quest for 
 Aristokians I 
 
 Then she passed me, and I wheeled and fol- 
 lowed her. What carriage I What a stride I 
 She was an Anglo-Saxon; I felt sure of it. Some- 
 thing about her easy, swinging gait suggested New 
 York to me. 
 
 At the end of the foyer she turned, and passed 
 me again. As she did, something small and white 
 rustled to the floor, a little piece of paper. I 
 picked it up and read: 
 
 Mr. Smith : Stop flirting with me. Do you ever 
 walk in the Bois Bourbon, along the path that leads to the 
 statue of Marie Antoinette? It is very nice there some- 
 times, at about half-past nine in the morning. 
 
 The note filled me with dread and delight. 
 Perhaps that paradox needs explaining. She had 
 addressed me by name; evidently she knew that I 
 was Smith, the Smith of capsule fame. This was 
 pleasantly disconcerting; I had thought myself 
 safely incognito in Aristokia. But she had not 
 asked me to mate with her or marry her. She had 
 
 26 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 accused me of flirting I What did I know of that 
 subtle art, I who had always run away? 
 
 When I returned to my seat for the third act I 
 sought her eyes eagerly. She looked through me 
 and beyond me without the faintest flicker of in- 
 terest in my existence. At the end of the opera 
 she swept by me haughtily, stepped into her wait- 
 ing airplane, and flew away skyward without so 
 much as a glance in my direction. This was a 
 new experience. 
 
 In my room at the HohenzoUern I reread her 
 note. My dread vanished, and my delight in- 
 creased by leaps and bounds. She was different. 
 She was not like any of the women I had known — 
 women from whom one fled in instinctive dread of 
 losing one's sacred liberty. She had been brought 
 up and educated in the prerevolutionary ambient 
 of Aristokia. 
 
 Her note promised, and j^et it did not promise. 
 Here at last was the flavor of the past. Here at 
 last were romance and adventure come into my 
 life. Here was a woman with whom. I could take 
 the initiative, one who had maidenly reserve and 
 
 27 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 a sense of modesty, one who was not forward or 
 aggressive. A visit to the Bois Bourbon at half- 
 past nine would prove delectable, I felt sure. 
 
 I undressed slowly, thinking of that prerevolu- 
 tionary period before the world had become safe 
 for democracy and unsafe for males. The civil- 
 ized period, they had called it. What a simple 
 age it had been ! Then the sex problem had been 
 almost unknown. 
 
 How different is this complex age! Man's 
 position to-day has become well-nigh intolerable. 
 I feel confident in asserting that half of the un- 
 rest and unhappiness to-day is the direct result of 
 the inequality of the sexual relations. In theory 
 men and women are equal, and either may be the 
 aggressor; but in practice what happens? No 
 man has the slightest chance to be the aggressor. 
 Woman always usurps the initiative. Man is ter- 
 ribly handicapped. Through centuries of cultiva- 
 tion of the art of chivalry by our forefathers it 
 has become an instinct in present-day man. Few 
 men are able to say "No" to a woman. When 
 marriage existed, a man could at least let his wife 
 
 28 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 divorce him and be rid of her in a courteous man- 
 ner. But now that a mating can be legally ter- 
 minated by the mere public expression of the will 
 to do so on the part of either contracting party, no 
 man with decent feelings can ever rid himself of a 
 woman. The result is bondage, life-long bondage. 
 
 The more I saw of Aristokia, the more I realized v 
 that those were the good old days for us males. -^ 
 
 29 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 IT was a glorious morning of early summer. 
 The view from my windows sent the blood 
 throbbing through my veins with the promise of 
 unknown delights. Adventure was in the air, and 
 romance in my heart. I had intended walking, 
 but when told at the information bureau that the 
 Bois Bourbon was in the western extremity of the 
 city, my impatience obliged me to don my auto- 
 peds and roll away more speedily. 
 
 I arrived at the appointed spot and thought my- 
 self in the heaven of the ancients. Beneath the 
 statue of Marie Antoinette was a curved marble 
 bench on which I sat. Before me unfolded an 
 illimitable vista of exquisite landscape gardening, 
 paths, shrubs, trees, fountains, statues, and 
 flowers in beautiful arrangement. Birds twit- 
 tered, and the cool, soft air was heavy with the 
 scent of a million blossoms. 
 
 30 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I was alone. Not a soul was in sight. God 
 forgive me for uttering the heresy, but how one of 
 our crowds would have spoilt it all I The broth- 
 erhood of man, all our precious theories, how silly 
 they seemed to me then ! 
 
 From musing I passed to rehearsing my forth- 
 coming meeting with her, and then back to musing. 
 I must have kept this up for nearly half an hour. 
 Suddenly she appeared before me more radiant 
 than I had dreamed her. 
 
 But I had over-rehearsed the scene. No woman 
 had ever kept me waiting before, and the novelty 
 of the thing upset my well-laid plans. I rose 
 speechless, and stood gaping inanely. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Smith," she said cheerily. 
 
 "Good morning. Miss — er — Lady — Princess," 
 I stammered, mentally registering, "Not Miss, 
 you fool. Of course she has a title." 
 
 "Gwendolyn," she said. "Silly name, is n't it9 
 What's )^ours^" 
 
 "John." 
 
 "I '11 call you Jack. But what 's your sur- 
 name *?" 
 
 31 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "My surname?" 
 
 "Yes, your real name." 
 
 "My real name?" I was stupefied. "You 
 know it," I asserted. 
 
 "Not Smith, not John Smith?" She looked at 
 me incredulously. 
 
 "Yes." Why did she pretend not to know me 
 now, I wondered. 
 
 She was laughing deliciously. 
 
 "That 's really very funny," she said at last. 
 "You know, it 's our nickname for you. In Aris- 
 tokia we call all the Nobodies, the outsiders, John 
 Smith." 
 
 I was utterly crushed. My pride lay at my feet 
 in a million pieces. 
 
 "I had thought you might have heard of me," 
 I said plaintively. "I am the inventor John 
 Smith — Capsule John Smith," I added, trying to 
 piece together the remnants of my shattered 
 vanity. 
 
 "Not the inventor of the detestable food cap- 
 sule!" 
 
 "Digestible, not detestable," I interposed. 
 32 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "It 's all the same. It 's a beastly invention. 
 You have destroyed one of the fine arts, and re- 
 duced an esthetic pleasure to a vulgar necessity. 
 We never use the thing here. We eat food." 
 
 "I like food, myself, Gwendolyn." 
 
 She smiled her approval. 
 
 "Shall we walk? If you know how," she 
 added, with a disdainful glance at my auto-peds. 
 
 "I wore them so that I could come to you 
 quickly, Gwendolyn," I said as I removed the ob- 
 jectionable machines and slung them over my 
 shoulder. 
 
 As we turned into a shady pathway I became 
 awkwardly aware of the presence of a third per- 
 son, an unprepossessing, scrawny little female 
 dressed hideously in black. She walked at our 
 heels like a dog. She made me horribly uncom- 
 fortable and silent. 
 
 "Have n't you anything nice to say to me, 
 Jack'?" 
 
 "A million things," I answered fervently. 
 
 "Then you 'd better begin. You know, I am 
 risking everything to talk to you. It is expulsion 
 
 33 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 from paradise to your capsule world, if we are 
 caught, and poor mama and papa will be ostra- 
 cized for months, and you '11 have to pay an enor- 
 mous fine, Mr. Smith." 
 
 "Then why did you bring her along?" I tried to 
 whisper. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 I tactfully and, I think, nonchalantly indicated 
 the annoying female behind us. 
 
 "That 's Fraulein, my chaperon." 
 
 "Yes, but—" 
 
 I was about to ask if she could be trusted, when 
 Gwendolyn continued : 
 
 "She is blind, dumb, and deaf." I looked at 
 the amazing female in astonishment. "She is 
 non-existent." 
 
 I was awed. Could she possibly be a creation 
 of my subjective mind"? 
 
 "She is the symbol of a sacred convention. She 
 is always with me, ready to serve. You will no- 
 tice that she is dressed in black, like the property- 
 man in the Chinese drama, visible in theory, in- 
 visible in fact." 
 
 34 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "You mean the other way around, don't you, 
 Gwendolyn^" 
 
 "It 's all the same. You '11 soon get used to 
 her." 
 
 "Never," I said, with sincerity. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you will, when you see how beauti- 
 fully it works. It simplifies everything. Her 
 presence satisfies the theory and leaves me free as 
 to the facts. I could n't let you make love to me 
 if anything happened to Fraulein." 
 
 "You mean I '11 have to do it in front of her^" 
 
 "Of course. All our affairs and liaisons are 
 chaperoned in Aristokia." 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" 
 
 "Royal princesses have two chaperons ; the em- 
 press, three." 
 
 "In case one of them dies on the job*?" 
 
 "You put it so prettily!" 
 
 For several seconds we walked on in silence; 
 then I asked: "Aren't you a royal princess, 
 Gwendolyn?" 
 
 "Oh, no! My ancestors were English and 
 American. Papa is Baron Wigleigh, but we have 
 
 n r 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 certain privileges because he is descended from 
 George Boggs, who made all this possible," she 
 said, with a wave of her hand that was meant to 
 include all of Aristokia. 
 
 Boggs ! Chewing gum I They associated them- 
 selves in my mind. Now I understood the 
 coat of arms on the box at the opera and on her 
 airplane, a luxuriant grove of rubber-trees, in the 
 center of which stood a knight in shining armor, 
 in his right hand held high a golden spear with 
 diamond head, his left arm protectingly about a 
 maiden coyly dressed in mint leaves. It had puz- 
 zled me considerably. 
 
 "I may become an empress by marriage, you 
 know." 
 
 My heart sank. 
 
 "Are you thinking of getting married*?" 
 
 "Of course. Every girl does." 
 
 "I mean concretely. Is there some one?" 
 
 "Mama and papa want me to marry the Chin- 
 less One. It 's the ambition of their lives." 
 
 "The Chinless One!" I echoed. 
 
 "That 's my nickname for Prince Wilhelm 
 
 36 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 HohenzoUern. Have n't you seen him^ Oh, 
 he 's wonderful I His face ducks under his lower 
 lip and runs down to meet his Adam's apple. His 
 grandfather lost the Battle of Verdun, escaped to 
 Holland, was interned, and later surrendered to 
 the Allies; but he has the bluest blood in Aristokia. 
 He 's the emperor-elect." 
 
 "And your parents want to sacrifice you^ you, 
 the most beautiful specimen in Aristokia, to that — 
 that product of a blight I" I was burning with 
 indignation. "It 's an outrage." 
 
 "I love your agricultural way of putting things, 
 Jack." 
 
 "It is n't agriculture. It 's eugenics." 
 
 "But that 's just the point; that 's how I may be 
 allowed to marry him. Heretofore Royal Blues 
 have been allowed to marry only Royal Blues. 
 Now there is a tremendous effort being made to 
 change that, so that I may be the mother of kings." 
 
 "Don't I" I groaned. 
 
 Gwendolyn then explained to me at length that 
 the German princesses, by a strange trick of nature, 
 had been having an extraordinary proportion of 
 
 37 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 male children, the just retribution for Wilhelm 
 II's vain boast that the virile German race would 
 quickly recover from the effects of the Great War 
 by its well-known habit of having an excess of 
 male over female offspring. At that time only 
 one princess of the royal blood was left, the Prin- 
 cess Sophia. She was anemic, and even more 
 chinless than Willy. The learned doctors had 
 shaken their heads dubiously at mention of the 
 union, with grave fears for the future of the race. 
 
 As the result of this a political party had arisen 
 which thought that expediency demanded an in- 
 fusion of new blood in the person of Gwendolyn. 
 The fight was at its height at that time. 
 
 "What does Willy say?" I asked. 
 
 "He does n't care. He 's a trifle queer." 
 
 "And you, Gwendolyn?" 
 
 "Oh, I keep an open mind in the daytime and 
 look at the stars by night." 
 
 Just then the intruding female in the rear, whose 
 presence I had actually forgotten, uttered a gut- 
 tural sound of warning in German, and Gwen- 
 dolyn turned to me with outstretched hand. 
 
 38 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Smith. I must leave you now. 
 Some one is coming. So put on your little wheels 
 and roll away." 
 
 "Shall I see you again, Gwendolyn*?" 
 
 "If you have eyes, Jackie." She turned and 
 left me. 
 
 I wanted to inhale the vision of her lithe young 
 body as she strolled away with that marvelous, 
 self-reliant gait of hers, sex-conscious and yet un- 
 conscious. What a woman! How tantalizingly 
 she had mixed up her Jacks and Mr. Smiths ! I 
 was in that state of mind when every Jack meant 
 "you are mine," and every Mr. Smith evoked the 
 image of a cosmic capsule forever separating us. 
 Would she turn at the curve of the path? She 
 did not. And my last glimpse was not of her, 
 but of her protector. I turned on the current and 
 fled. 
 
 39 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 FOR nearly a week I kept my eyes open and 
 looked in every direction, but I did not see 
 Gwendolyn again. 
 
 I went every morning to the Bois Bourbon and 
 sat in the shadow of Marie Antoinette and waited, 
 feeding my wandering hopes with the exquisite 
 memories of that first and only meeting. 
 
 From my windows at the HohenzoUern I 
 scanned the heavens and searched each passing air- 
 plane with my spy-glass. Once I saw the Wig- 
 leigh coat of arms emblazoned on outspread wings 
 high above me. My heart jumped out to meet 
 the whirling motor, but the occupants were Mama 
 and Papa Wigleigh, and my heart sank back with 
 a sickening thud. 
 
 In the afternoons I walked for hours about the 
 endless gardens, parks, and boulevards, until my 
 legs ached and my eyes burned. The extraordi- 
 
 40 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 nary colorfulness of the scene was a narcotic to my 
 mental anguish, which dulled the pain of hopes 
 deferred. 
 
 I threaded my way through the human throng, 
 men and women of every race and color. Among 
 them, here and there, was a sprinkling of Aris- 
 tokians, easily distinguishable by the refinement 
 of their features and their easy, graceful manner 
 of walking, so different to our awkward, shackled 
 strides, the result of a generation of dependence 
 on auto-peds. 
 
 Almost all the male Aristokians wore uniforms. 
 And such uniforms! What a contrast to the 
 drab, unesthetic, utilitarian things worn by our 
 International Police I All the colors of the spec- 
 trum seemed splashed in harmonious confusion 
 upon the green-and-white background of parks and 
 mansions. Nearly every officer's bosom (and they 
 were all officers) was covered with a diversity of 
 medals and decorations, and many wore silver, 
 gold, and platinum spurs, which made a pleasant 
 clinking sound as they strode about. 
 
 The Aristokian ladies were all attractively 
 
 41 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 dressed, but the styles were not unfamiliar to me, 
 for at that time the women of the proletariat aped 
 the fashions of Aristokia, which had taken the 
 place of Paris in all such matters. I could not 
 restrain my smiles at the sight of these fine birds 
 flitting by, trailing their ungainly chaperons in 
 black. 
 
 One afternoon when walking in a comparatively 
 quiet lane in the Bois Bourbon, to which I al- 
 ways returned, drawn by the lodestone of my 
 memories, I saw coming toward me a very beauti- 
 ful young woman, followed by a perfectly enor- 
 mous hulk in black. By no possible flight of men- 
 tal gymnastics could this chaperon have been 
 imagined invisible. She utterly overwhelmed her 
 petite and dainty charge. The incongruity of the 
 spectacle was too much for me. I think I laughed 
 out loud. At any rate, I smiled broadly. Sud- 
 denly I realized that the young lady had paused 
 in front of me and was smiling invitingly. Con- 
 fusion seized me; my grin froze, and I fled. To 
 be arrested for any one but Gwendolyn would be 
 absurd. 
 
 42 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 After that I kept my smiles to myself, but I 
 gradually came to the conclusion that the law re- 
 garding non-intercourse with the Nobodies was 
 one honored more in the breach than in the ob- 
 servance. 
 
 This little episode set me to thinking. What 
 was it that made forbidden fruit so exquisite"? 
 Why did we almost instinctively desire that which 
 prohibitory mandates placed beyond our reach*? 
 The legend of Eve and the apple acquired a new 
 significance in my eyes. It became at that mo- 
 ment the very keynote of human nature. Is not 
 the unobtainable the supreme desire of each one 
 of us, and does not the race progress in direct ratio 
 to our efforts to achieve the impossible? At ado- 
 lescence our dreams are illimitable. The attain- 
 ments of even the greatest of us are only an in- 
 finitesimal part of our youthful ambitions. 
 Therein lies the measure of our slow advance. 
 
 My mind rambled on as I walked about. 
 Then, watching the Aristokians, I began to think 
 more concretely about the problem of personal 
 liberty. In Aristokia, the very name of which is 
 
 43 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 only a derivative of aristocracy, though there were 
 absurd rules, like the chaperons in black they had 
 been reduced by the process of conventionalizing 
 to virtual desuetude. The young ladies went 
 blithely on their way, smiling at me when they 
 chose, thoroughly chaperoned. It was only one 
 item in a long list. Yet in my world the prole- 
 tariat, in the name of universal freedom, was 
 exercising a tyranny unknown in former years. 
 What had become of the great Anglo-Saxon ideal 
 of personal liberty^ German efficiency had at- 
 tacked inchoate England and America and had 
 made them efficient in self-defense. And then? 
 What had the years between 1919 and 1925 done 
 to us? What a vast collective sin must now be 
 expiated I 
 
 On the personal plane I found myself, fresh 
 from the land of prohibitions, like many another 
 tourist seeking relaxation, assuaging the confusion 
 of my mental state by an assiduous sampling of al- 
 coholic beverages. I took copious drafts of claret, 
 burgundy, sauterne, champagne, port, and shtrry. 
 
 44 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 How many there were, each with its distinctive 
 taste, aroma, and effect I I sipped strangely elat- 
 ing things called cordials — sweet, oily, burning 
 liquids named after gentlemen who had conse- 
 crated their lives to celibacy and the Deity. It 
 was a fascinating experience to one whose only pre- 
 vious knowledge of alcohol had been in the form 
 of Kansas City Near-Beer, Bolivia (the quack 
 remedy for all human ills), and Kentucky moon- 
 shine whisky, the unpalatable curses of our world. 
 I found that after partaking of these beverages I 
 became infused with something extraneous to me, 
 a new courage, a new hope, and a conviction that 
 on the morrow I should see Gwendolyn. 
 
 Exactly a week after my meeting with her I sat 
 at a table in the Cafe Louis Quatorze. I had 
 dined not wisely but too well, and was sipping a 
 new cordial in abject loneliness. I felt strangely 
 fraternal, rosily elated. I wanted to talk. I had 
 tried the resources of my wit and wisdom on the 
 waiter, but he persisted in answering "Yes, sir," 
 and "No, sir," to my every comment, making a 
 
 45 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 genuine conversation extremely difficult. He left 
 me, to get my check, and I looked about me, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 A few meters away sat a nice young chap look- 
 ing as lonely as I. Suddenly I realized that I had 
 been playing with a little box of my detestable cap- 
 sules, which I had in an absent-minded moment 
 taken out of my pocket. I took a capsule, poised 
 it on my knife, and snapped back the blade. The 
 capsule described a beautiful curve through the 
 air and splashed contentedly into the young chap's 
 glass of champagne. He cocked an eye over it in 
 a contemplative manner. I laughed. And being 
 delighted with my aim I repeated the performance. 
 The second one hit him on the nose. He turned 
 and looked at me. 
 
 "What 's the idea*?" he said in English. 
 
 "I 'm lonely," I replied. 
 
 Whereat he arose and came over to me. We 
 shook hands, and he sat down. He explained to 
 me that he had been arrested that day and fined 
 for speaking to some one on the boulevard. 
 
 "They fined me a hundred dollars for talking 
 
 46 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 to an Aristokian, and a hundred dollars more for 
 calling him 'Mister' when he happened to be a 
 baron." 
 
 I sympathized, and paid for the drinks. 
 
 My new friend's name was Frank Hyde. He 
 was a member of the Civic Board for the Improve- 
 ment of Public Morals in Benton, Nebraska. 
 
 After we had paid our checks and slightly re- 
 covered from the staggering blow they dealt us, 
 we decided that excitement was in order. Hyde 
 opined that a visit to a wild IJungarian cafe was 
 the thing. I voted for the casino, and won him 
 over. 
 
 My reasons for favoring the casino were two- 
 fold. In the first place, I might see Gwendolyn 
 there, though of this I said nothing to Hyde. In 
 the second place, — and it was this argument I 
 used with effect on him, — the high cost of living in 
 Aristokia was ruining us. The dinner I had just 
 eaten had cost me twenty-five dollars. My room 
 at the Hohenzollern was fifteen dollars a day. 
 The admission to every park and garden, to every 
 place of interest, was a dollar or more. Along the 
 
 47 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 boulevards there were frequent toll-gates through 
 which tourists could pass only by the payment of 
 a dollar. Every one had to be tipped. It was 
 appalling. At the casino, I vowed, we would 
 make a killing, and recoup our expenses. The 
 possibility of losing never occurred to either of us. 
 We were not men in the mood to admit the coex- 
 istence with us of failure in any form. So we 
 sallied forth in high spirits. 
 
 The admission to the casino was twenty-five 
 dollars a head. We matched for it, and I lost. 
 The main salon was a vast place done somewhat in 
 the manner of the great ball-room at Versailles, 
 richly carpeted, so that every footfall was muffled 
 into silence. From the magnificent carved ceiling 
 hung tremendous electroliers, so placed as to shed 
 their radiance on the hundred or more tables. It 
 was a blessed relief to one accustomed, as I was, 
 to vague, diffused, and indirect-lighting systems to 
 see real, glowing, warm lights. The smoke from 
 countless cigarettes hung in gently undulating 
 veils of blue, which accentuated the stupendous 
 
 48 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 size of the room and gave a sense of mysterious 
 remoteness to the scene. The air was filled with 
 a multiplicity of sounds. The incessant clink of 
 coins, the rustle of paper money, the scraping of 
 the croupiers, and their droning voices intoning the 
 eternal "Faites vos jeux, Messieurs/'' mingled in a 
 mighty harmony with the buzz of a thousand 
 voices speaking in a key of suppressed excitement. 
 The salon and all that it expressed made an im- 
 pact on our consciousness never to be forgotten. 
 
 Several tables set apart were marked for Aris- 
 tokians only, but I noticed many citizens of the 
 city-empire playing at the public tables. 
 
 I started playing the red, the color of love, pas- 
 sion, and danger. I lost steadily. Hyde played 
 the black, which struck me as being a rather 
 gloomy idea. He won. When I had only a hun- 
 dred dollars left I shifted to black, and lost. I 
 then and there decided that that particular table 
 and I were not en rapport. I dragged Hyde, who 
 was nearly a thousand to the good, away with me 
 to a table at the far end of the room. 
 
 49 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 And then I blessed my ill luck, for there was 
 Gwendolyn at last I Her eyes sparkled and her 
 face was flushed as she leaned toward the wheel 
 and gaily bet some of Papa Wigleigh's money. 
 Papa was with her. He was not betting. 
 
 As the evening progressed, I came to the con- 
 clusion that papa was the most supremely bored 
 person I had ever seen in my life. Later I dis- 
 covered that he had been born in a casual, offhand 
 manner, and that boredom was to him as the color 
 of their eyes is to most men, an unalterable fea- 
 ture. 
 
 Hyde noticed me staring at Gwendolyn and 
 informed me that she was the reigning beauty of 
 Aristokia. 
 
 "The man at her right," he added, "is Prince 
 Juan do Braganza, the best-dressed man in Aris- 
 tokia, for which he was made Commander-in-Chief 
 of the Army, Navy, and Aerial Forces. He is a 
 gay Lothario, a home-breaker, the victorious par- 
 ticipant in a hundred duels, the idol of the young 
 bloods, and the adored of all the women. He has 
 ninety-nine different uniforms and never wears the 
 
 50 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 same one twice. He keeps thirty-three tailors 
 busy." 
 
 I looked at the man on her right and recognized 
 him immediately as the person who had caused 
 such a commotion by his presence at the opera my 
 first night in Aristokia. "What a peacock I" I 
 thought. He was marvelous to look at. I had 
 never seen a uniform fit so well. It was a part 
 of him. He was the uniform. 
 
 And then as Gwendolyn glanced casually across 
 at me without in any way acknowledging my exist- 
 ence, I suddenly felt shabby and ill at ease. I 
 struggled helplessly with my collar, which I be- 
 came convinced was at least two sizes too large for 
 me. 
 
 I was trying desperately to make Gwendolyn 
 look me in the eyes and give me some little sign 
 when Hyde tugged my arm frantically. 
 
 "Oh, Lord! oh. Lord I Don't stare! The 
 man on her left, her father, he 's the fellow who 
 had me pinched to-day when I asked him the time. 
 Let's go." And he pulled me away from the 
 table. 
 
 51 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 But I had no intention of leaving that table; 
 not until Gwendolyn did, at any rate. So I up- 
 braided Hyde for his cowardice. Was he, a citi- 
 zen of the world, going to let an aristocrat, a 
 mere baron, frighten him away'? Where was his 
 pride? What would Benton, Nebraska, think of 
 him? My words had the desired effect, and we 
 returned to the table, but on the opposite side, near 
 Gwendolyn. 
 
 I was determined to talk at Gwendolyn through 
 Hyde. It was the only plan I could hit on. 
 
 "Do you ever walk in the Bois Bourbon near 
 the statue of Marie Antoinette?" I said to Hyde 
 as I placed a small bet on the red. She was play- 
 ing red. 
 
 Hyde was too busy betting to answer me, so I 
 repeated the question loudly and with emphasis. 
 
 He murmured, "No," as the croupier scooped in 
 our money. 
 
 "I do," I almost shouted, "every morning at 
 half-past nine." 
 
 "What 's the idea?" asked Hyde. 
 
 "Oh, it *s so nice and lonesome there. Nobody 
 52 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 comes," I said, looking at Gwendolyn reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 "Good Lord! Then why do you do it?" quer- 
 ied the rather puzzled Hyde. 
 
 "I go there to look for company." 
 
 "But you just said it was lonesome there," he 
 protested. 
 
 "Yes, it is. That 's the trouble." Hyde gave 
 me a quick, searching glance. 
 
 "What did you say?" he asked. "I don't think 
 I understood." 
 
 He was evidently very much puzzled. I seized 
 the opportunity with avidity and fairly yelled at 
 him: 
 
 "Yes, that 's the trouble. Nobody 's there." 
 I wanted Gwendolyn to get the significance of this 
 remark. 
 
 Baron Wigleigh had been staring at me through 
 his monocle for some time. I must confess it had 
 made me a little nervous, but I was determined not 
 to be put out of countenance by the aristocratic de- 
 scendant of a chewing-gum magnate. After all, 
 one could swallow my capsules. 
 
 53 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 So I looked right at the baron and added play- 
 fully, "Nobody, Nobody, NOBODY r 
 
 The baron half squinted at me and turned to 
 Don Juan. 
 
 "I wonder why Nobodies talk so beastly loud," 
 he remarked. 
 
 Hyde nudged me with his elbow, and his eyes 
 said, "You see the depths of displeasure you are 
 bringing on our heads I" 
 
 After a pause, as Don Juan had not paid the 
 slightest attention to the baron's query, he con- 
 tinued introspectively, with all the manner of a 
 very bored actor reading a soliloquy of which he 
 does not approve : "I suppose they have to keep 
 their silly lungs in training for public speaking. 
 A republic without oratory would be quite impos- 
 sible. Democracy is government by declamation." 
 
 Don Juan ignored this, which I thought a gem 
 of political observation. I was beginning to like 
 the baron, but not the trend of events. In at- 
 tempting to arouse Gwendolyn to indirect repartee 
 I had started a soliloquy by her father: I deter- 
 
 54 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 mined to try again. The baron started to speak, 
 but I drowned him out: 
 
 "I have wandered about this city looking — look- 
 ing everywhere — for a week," I said. 
 
 "Have you lost something'?" Hyde asked. 
 
 "Yes, a jewel, a rare jewel." 
 
 "Too bad I Why don't you report it to the 
 police*?" suggested Hyde. 
 
 "It 's all right. I 've found it now." 
 
 "That 's good." 
 
 "But I 'm afraid I shall lose it again." 
 
 "Why don't you keep it locked up at the ho- 
 tel?" 
 
 "I wish I could," I sighed, looking longingly at 
 Gwendolyn; "but I can't control it." 
 
 "What?" Hyde stared at me. I knew in- 
 stantly that he considered me demented. 
 
 "I wish I knew where to go to-morrow," I said 
 after a short pause during which we waited for 
 the spin of the wheel. 
 
 "What for?" inquired Hyde, looking dubiously 
 at me over his shoulder. 
 
 55 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "To find the jewel that I shall lose again — in 
 half an hour or so." 
 
 That last remark settled matters for poor Hyde. 
 From that moment until he left Aristokia he al- 
 ways treated me as a harmless lunatic, which sim- 
 plified things immeasurably. 
 
 I wanted to see what effect my shots were hav- 
 ing on Gwendolyn, but she was looking at Hyde, 
 whose expression was a unique admixture of ter- 
 ror, bewilderment, and sympathy. It was too 
 much for her sense of humor, and she went into 
 peals of delicious laughter. 
 
 Braganza, feeling reassured at the effect of his 
 wit, told Gwendolyn another anecdote about him- 
 self, which she never heard, I am sure, for he was 
 obliged to repeat the point. Even then she 
 laughed in the wrong place. 
 
 "I 'm not going to talk any more," I said to 
 Hyde, who seemed greatly relieved by my de- 
 cision. I turned quickly and looked at the baron, 
 but though I could swear he was secretly elated, he 
 gave no outward sign. "I 'm going to listen. I 
 might hear something of interest." I wanted 
 
 56 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Gwendolyn to know that it was now up to her 
 to talk at me through Braganza. 
 
 In a few moments she said, as she placed an 
 extra-heavy bet, "Faint heart ne'er won fair 
 lady, Juan." 
 
 Was this meant for me*? I doubled my bet on 
 her number. We won. For some time I had 
 been winning, but I had been too interested in my 
 mad duologue with Hyde to realize how much. 
 Now that I hardly cared what the result of the 
 turn of the wheel might be, I won steadily. 
 
 As I played, I listened for something more 
 tangibly hopeful for me to fall from Gwendolyn's 
 lips, but I listened in vain. 
 
 I watched Braganza. How attentive he was 
 to her I With what subtle gallantry and finesse 
 he wooed her I His conversation was a mosaic of 
 little things which in themselves meant nothing. 
 But, taken as a whole, what did they not mean? 
 
 And then it was that I came to a momentous 
 decision. If ever I was to have the exquisite pleas- 
 ure of talking to Gwendolyn again, I must make 
 the opportunity, I must be the aggressor. She had 
 
 57 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 shown the way once; it was now up to me, I 
 had been a fool. I would seek out her house, I 
 would shadow her. To talk with her again I 
 would risk everything. What was a fine or two? 
 The little wheel was making enough for me to pay 
 a dozen fines. Gwendolyn's nearness intoxicated 
 me and sent a thrill of courage throbbing through 
 my veins. 
 
 "From now on I 'm going to take chances," I 
 said out loud. "I 've been a fool. I 'm going to 
 plunge. I 'm going to be reckless." 
 
 I bet my entire pile and won. I was now sev- 
 eral thousand ahead of the game. As I gathered 
 the coins and bills the croupier pushed toward me, 
 Gwendolyn and Braganza left the table. Papa 
 had turned away just ahead of them. His part- 
 ing shot had been: "I'm going to see Prince 
 Karl" — Prince Karl was a Hapsburg and one of 
 the most influential Royal Blues — "about a law 
 to prohibit oratory in public places, and thus re- 
 duce the volume of sound emitted by tourists." 
 
 I told Hyde I thought we had better quit, and 
 though he had been losing for some time, he 
 
 58 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 agreed. I tried to follow Gwendolyn, but Hyde 
 wanted to go in the opposite direction, and while 
 we discussed the matter, she was swallowed up in 
 the crowd. 
 
 Gwendolyn had disappeared, moving in the di- 
 rection of a lounging space filled with comfortable 
 sofas and chairs and small tables at which drinks 
 were served. It was situated in a semi-oval re- 
 cess between the two wings of the great stairway 
 that went up to the airplane entrance. The stairs 
 were not so crowded but that I could see her, were 
 she to leave that way. Surmising, however, that 
 the baron was probably slaking his thirst after his 
 arduous speechmaking at my expense, I suggested 
 a drink, and with my eyes on the stairs led the 
 way to the lounge. 
 
 There I found Gwendolyn and her escorts seated 
 on a sofa. There was a third man in uniform, 
 who, Hyde informed me, was a Bonaparte. 
 
 I ordered a thing called, for some obscure rea- 
 son, a highball, and while I sipped it I wrote on 
 the back of an envelop : 
 
 Miss Smith : Do you ever walk in the Bois Bol- 
 
 59 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 shevik near the statute of Leon Trotzky? It was very 
 nice there once, at half-after nine ! 
 
 I was very proud of this. She would under- 
 stand, but no one else would. 
 
 Hyde had been watching me, consumed with 
 intense curiosity. He had started nervously every 
 time I had chuckled with self-satisfaction during 
 the composition of my note. I could see that he 
 was eager to ask me what I was doing, but a 
 really charming reticence restrained him. I liked 
 him for it. 
 
 "Just a few observations on the course of hu- 
 man events," I said. 
 
 "Oh." He looked at me dazed. 
 
 We finished our drinks. The men in Gwen- 
 dolyn's party rose and stood for an instant, their 
 backs to the sofa, waving and beckoning to a 
 bearded man descending the stairs. Gwendolyn 
 only half turned, and I caught her eye. I jumped 
 up. As I passed her I dropped the folded envelop, 
 and continued on my way without looking back. 
 
 I was congratulating myself on the neatness 
 with which I had done the thing when I heard a 
 
 60 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 queer and weird exclamation behind me. It was 
 Hyde. I had forgotten him in my plan of cam- 
 paign. 
 
 "Excuse me, old man, but you dropped this," 
 he said and handed me the envelop. 
 
 I took it. It was unfolded. 
 
 "Did you read itr' I asked. 
 
 "Well — you see — " Hyde reddened and be- 
 came inarticulate. "It was — that is — I could n't 
 help — But I don't understand it. Who is 
 Trotzky? I beg your pardon; it's none of my 
 business," he added quickly, repentant. 
 
 "Certainly it is your business. You owe a great 
 debt to Trotzky. So do I. There should be a 
 statue to him. He was the great Bolshevik leader 
 in Russia about fifty years ago. Some one killed 
 him because he was too reactionary; but the pro- 
 letariat owes a great deal to him, nevertheless." 
 
 By this time we were about twenty-five feet 
 away from Gwendolyn. Suddenly I wheeled, 
 swinging the unfortunate Hyde, whom I held by 
 the arm, around with me, and started walking 
 briskly back toward Gwendolyn, talking volubly 
 
 61 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 all the time. I was the conjurer using patter to 
 keep Hyde's interest centered on my words rather 
 than on my deeds. The descendants of Boggs, 
 Napoleon, and Manuel were showing signs of an 
 imminent departure. 
 
 "I thought that Brisdon — " began Hyde, 
 
 I interrupted him quickly. 
 
 "That 's the way they teach history in Benton, 
 Nebraska. You thought that Brisdon, Strawood 
 and that Washington Square chap who used to edit 
 the 'New Democracy' were responsible for our 
 proletariate emancipation. Well, in a way they 
 were; but I tell you they never had an idea that 
 they did n't get from Trotzky." 
 
 My voice had grown louder and louder, and the 
 "Trotzky" was almost a shout. The bearded man 
 to whom Gwendolyn and the others had waved 
 turned quickly with a startled expression. 
 
 " 'Shi" cautioned Hyde. "He 's a Russian, a 
 Romanoff I" 
 
 Gwendolyn looked at me again. As I passed 
 her I dropped the note at her feet. Hyde did not 
 see it. 
 
 62 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Gwendolyn dropped her handkerchief, undoubt- 
 edly with the intention of picking up my note 
 with the filmy piece of lace ; but the excessive po- 
 liteness and alacrity of the descendant of Napo- 
 leon forestalled her. He handed her the handker- 
 chief, bowed, and then read the note. I heard 
 him ejaculate something in French which sounded 
 sacred. 
 
 Hyde gasped: "My God I have you dropped 
 that thing again*? Let's get away from here 
 quick !" 
 
 He tugged miserably at my arm, but I stood 
 my ground and held him. An irresistible desire 
 to see what would happen glued me to the spot. 
 
 The baron was smoking in absolute unconcern, 
 Don Juan was posing for the benefit of any woman 
 who might look his way, Gwendolyn was trying 
 desperately not to laugh, the Russian, having 
 heard the Frenchman's religious observation, was 
 looking concerned. 
 
 "What in heaven's name is the matter and 
 what is that paper^" he asked Bonaparte in 
 French. I don't know French, but I 'm sure that 
 
 63 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 he said something like that, for Napoleon's great- 
 grand-something-or-other struggled to keep the 
 contents of my note from his friend. But the Ro- 
 manoff overpowered him, and took possession of 
 the paper. There was a moment of tense silence. 
 
 Then Nicholas, or whatever his name was, 
 thundered: "Who dares to write concerning a 
 statue to the infamous murderer of my beloved 
 great-uncles and great-aunts I" 
 
 He handed the note to Juan and began to weep. 
 
 Don Juan glanced at it in a cursory manner, 
 passed it to Gwendolyn without comment, and 
 then turned to sympathize elaborately with Ro- 
 manoff. Gwendolyn's eyes danced, and her lips 
 quivered. I had made a decided hit. 
 
 Then father got the note and remarked : "It 's 
 in code I" 
 
 He called one of the casino police. I was to 
 discover later that the baron was always calling 
 policemen. 
 
 The eyes of the group were on Hyde and me. 
 The Frenchman pointed at us excitedly ; the Rus- 
 
 64 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 sian walked up and down debating with himself 
 whether we should be drawn and quartered or 
 boiled in oil. 
 
 Hyde was struggling frantically to escape my 
 vise-like grip when the grotesqueness of the sit- 
 uation sent me into a spasm of uncontrolled laugh- 
 ter, and I shook so violently that I lost my hold on 
 him. I expected to see him cut loose and run 
 for Benton, Nebraska. To my utter amazement, 
 and I shall never forgive myself for having so 
 misjudged him, he dashed straight at the baron 
 and the others now grouped about the policeman. 
 
 The officer was explaining to Prince Romanoff 
 that we could not possibly be arrested for propos- 
 ing a statue to Leon Trotzky; we had broken no 
 law of Aristokia. 
 
 "Then it 's a damn silly country," said the 
 baron. 
 
 It was at this point that Hyde reached the 
 group, talking rapidly. 
 
 "Gentleman, I know I should not address you, 
 that I am only a Nobody, that you are great 
 
 65 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 princes; but my poor friend is insane, though per- 
 fectly harmless. I will remove him immediately, 
 and assure you — " 
 
 He got no further. That much had taken the 
 august gentlemen by surprise. 
 
 By now the baron was smiling contentedly. 
 
 "This vulgar outburst simplifies matters," he 
 said to the policeman. "The charge is talking to 
 Aristokians and addressing us as gentlemen instead 
 of using our titles correctly." 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." The policeman bowed, 
 and took Hyde by the arm. 
 
 "Let me look at the fellow," the baron de- 
 manded, looking at Hyde through his monocle. 
 "Yes, the physiognomy is too similar for mere re- 
 semblance. This — this — does n't wind its watch 
 regularly; lax habits. Second offense. Officer. 
 He stopped me in the boulevard this afternoon." 
 
 Without further ado the policeman led Hyde 
 away. I followed dismally. Well, anyway, 
 Gwendolyn had read my note. 
 
 We entered a well-furnished room of nonde- 
 script character through a small, half -concealed 
 
 66 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 door under the stairs. It was neither an office nor 
 an anteroom. Two or three policemen were 
 lounging about, smoking. 
 
 "I 'm so sorry, old chap," I began my excuses 
 to Hyde. 
 
 "It 's all right." 
 
 The policeman smiled at us genially. 
 
 "Don't worry, don't worry. Baron Wigleigh 
 never appears to press a charge. It bores him too 
 much." 
 
 "Really*?" I asked in surprise. 
 
 A policeman over by the wall stretched, yawned, 
 and remarked: "He had three hundred and fifty 
 tourists arrested last season, and appeared against 
 only three of them." 
 
 Hyde breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 "I can fix this up for you," said our police- 
 man. 
 
 "Can you?" I asked, wondering just what the 
 technic of the thing would be. 
 
 Then I noticed Hyde digging down into his 
 pockets, and I understood. 
 
 "No, no," I interposed; "you are my guest." 
 
 67 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I took out my roll. "How much^" I asked the 
 policeman. 
 
 "Well, your fine for talking to them would have 
 been one hundred dollars, for using their titles 
 wrong would have been a hundred apiece. As 
 there were four of them, that 's four hundred. 
 Second offense doubles. That 's a grand total of 
 one thousand." He paused. "Ten per cent, of 
 that would be one hundred." 
 
 I gave him the hundred, and we turned to go. 
 
 "Wait a bit," he said. "You '11 be wanting 
 your receipt." 
 
 My brain reeled. I took the receipt in a dream. 
 
 When I said good night to Hyde on our re- 
 turn to the HohenzoUern, — he was also stopping 
 there, — he wanted to know my plans for the next 
 day. As they were of a very confidential nature 
 and I did not wish his companionship, I gently 
 reminded him of my insanity by remarking that 
 I was going jewel-hunting. It worked like a 
 charm. With a frightened, sad look he hurried 
 away to his own room. 
 
 68 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 1 AWOKE early the next morning, fired by 
 my new determination. I felt arrogantly 
 masculine. At last I had come into the noble 
 heritage of my sex. I was to be the aggressor. I 
 was about to go forth and conquer. 
 
 I breakfasted heartily, and then went in search 
 of a taxiplane with a good pilot, one who knew 
 the city and could point out to me the various resi- 
 dences as we flew over them. 
 
 I was interviewing several pilots when Frank 
 Hyde came along and informed me that all of 
 them were fools, that he knew the city well, — 
 this was his fifth trip to Aristokia, — and would 
 be pleased to accompany me. I did n't want him, 
 but he looked at me so wistfully that I could not 
 refuse his offer. I saw that he had taken a fancy 
 to me and felt it to be his Christian duty to watch 
 over me and keep my unbalanced mind from do- 
 ing me some harm. 
 
 69 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 We clambered aboard the car of a bright young 
 Frenchman, Auguste, who seemed an excellent 
 flier. 
 
 I was soon delighted to have Hyde along, for 
 his knowledge of the city was profound, and the 
 information I gained I later used to great advan- 
 tage. 
 
 We flew low and passed over many interesting 
 buildings: the emperor's palace; the great edifice 
 wherein the Royal Blues held their secret con- 
 claves; the home of the Hohenzollems; Prince 
 Braganza's artistic and exquisitely proportioned 
 residence, quite the most beautiful private house 
 in Aristokia; and a little farther west the impos- 
 ing structure of Wigleigh Hall. 
 
 It stood on a slight hill, surrounded by terraced 
 gardens and lawns declining gradually to a beau- 
 tiful artificial lake. It was octagonal in shape, 
 with no front or back, the main entrance, in the 
 approved modern manner, being from the top. 
 The highest part of the roof was flat and clear. It 
 was the landing-place for planes. A broad, shal- 
 low stone stairway descended into the grand en- 
 
 70 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 trance, a beautiful marble arch where two flunkies 
 in livery stood on guard. 
 
 At the other side of the building was a large, 
 glass-inclosed space, a sort of sun-room with an 
 unobstructed view of the sky. And there the 
 Wigleighs — papa, mama, and Gwendolyn — sat at 
 breakfast. 
 
 We were flying very low and slowly as we 
 passed. Gwendolyn looked up, and I think she 
 saw me. In an instant my mind was made up. 
 I would show her the kind of lover I was. I 
 would be reckless. I would plunge I 
 
 Reassured by my very rational conversation, 
 Hyde was beginning to think that I had been 
 drunk the evening before and was not really in- 
 sane. So when I asked Auguste to circle over the 
 sun-room again Hyde suspected nothing. 
 
 As we turned about, I drew out my handker- 
 chief and very nonchalantly blew my nose. I let 
 the handkerchief slip from my fingers, and in at- 
 tempting to recover it, I leaned too far and out I 
 tumbled. 
 
 The whole manoeuver I had calculated with a 
 
 71 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 scientific nicety of which I felt justly proud. I 
 fell over an open space where the glass had been 
 removed to admit the fresh morning air. Directly 
 beneath this opening was a large, soft-looking 
 couch where I presumed Mama Wigleigh took her 
 daily sun-bath. I would have made a clean dive 
 through the opening and landed squarely on this 
 couch if Hyde had not tried to rescue me. His 
 frantic clutch at my departing left leg deviated me 
 from my well-chosen course just enough to make 
 me side-swipe and smash a huge pane of glass, 
 which clattered down with me to the floor, where 
 most of me landed, though I did manage to keep 
 my head on the couch. 
 
 I was sorry for the fracas, as I had no desire 
 to wreck the Wigleigh home or antagonize papa 
 while making my morning call. 
 
 As I fell I heard Hyde shouting: "Oh, my 
 God I he 's done for I They '11 fine him a million 
 bucks for that." 
 
 Although somewhat shaken by my rapid flight 
 and cut up by broken glass, I was not really in- 
 jured; but I decided that the thing to do was to 
 
 72 
 
I was sorry for the fracas, as I had no desire to wreck the 
 Wigleigh home 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 appear unconscious. So I rolled to the floor and 
 made myself comfortable in the debris. 
 
 In an instant Gwendolyn, who had arisen with 
 a little cry of sympathetic horror which made my 
 heart beat faster with keen delight, was on her 
 knees and bending over me. Mama Wigleigh 
 was on her feet, calling loudly for menials. But 
 the baron never moved. 
 
 I heard him say, without any interest in his 
 tone. ''Is the beggar dead?" 
 
 Gwendolyn murmured. "Poor Smithy I He 's 
 all cut up." 
 
 I felt her soft, warm hands on my head, and 
 her handkerchief at my temple. I trembled. 
 
 "He's moving I He's alive!" she said with 
 evident relief and thanksgiving. I could feel her 
 breath, and a stray lock of her intoxicating hair 
 tickled my neck. I had an almost irresistible im- 
 pulse to come to and kiss her, but I mastered it and 
 remained supine, with eyes closed. 
 
 Mama was giving orders in stentorian tones to 
 have me and the rest of the "frightful mess" re- 
 moved to the lower regions of the establishment. 
 
 73 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Papa said: "Leave the bounder to the servants, 
 Gwendolyn. Another cup of coffee, Rogers. 
 There 's ground glass in this one." 
 
 Then I was lifted up by two men, who started 
 to carry me out. I opened my eyes and I looked 
 for Gwendolyn, to whom I appealed mutely. She 
 smiled at me encouragingly. 
 
 "Take him to the blue room and send for our 
 doctor." My carriers paused. 
 
 "The blue room? Don't be ridiculous, Gwen- 
 dolyn!" said her horrified mama. "Take him to 
 the servants' quarters." 
 
 "Send him to the public hospital," interposed 
 the baron, "and place him under arrest." 
 
 "O Papa, don't be cruel ! Please let me attend 
 to him!" 
 
 "Gwendolyn !" shrieked mama. 
 
 Papa merely stirred his fresh cup of coffee, ad- 
 justed his monocle, and remarked: 
 
 "Phoebe, your daughter appears to be more and 
 more of a catastrophic reversion to type each 
 day." 
 
 74 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Well, it is n't my fault!" bellowed the baron- 
 ess. 
 
 "Thank goodness, there 's one member of this 
 family with decent human feelings I" said Gwen- 
 dolyn, hotly. 
 
 The baron sipped his coffee. 
 
 "Don't raise your voice, my dear. Your feel- 
 ings are distressingly atavistic." 
 
 At this juncture a flunky entered, and bowed 
 low to the baron. 
 
 "Hexcuse me, your Lordship, a person is hout- 
 side. 'E says as 'ow this person dropped hout of 
 'is hairplane, an' 'e '11 take 'im awye." 
 
 Papa Wigleigh waved a hand wearily, indicat- 
 ing that I be removed forthwith. And thus ended 
 my little visit to Gwendolyn and her family. 
 
 The baron had not recognized me; he had 
 scarcely looked at me. To do so would have been 
 to evince some interest in my existence. From 
 first to last I had been merely an annoyance, an 
 unpleasant disturbance. If Hyde had n't sent for 
 me, Gwendolyn might have won her point, and 
 
 IS 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 then I might have enjoyed the exquisite bliss of 
 several hours of her company. I could have mur- 
 dered Hyde. 
 
 When I was stowed away in the machine, and 
 we were flying back to the HohenzoUern I began 
 to laugh. Hyde thought I was delirious and told 
 Auguste to hurry. 
 
 "Some of the scrambled glass got mixed up 
 with the baron's breakfast," I explained to him. 
 "That was your fault," I added. 
 
 "My fault!" Hyde looked pained. 
 
 "Yes. If you had n't pulled my leg, I 'd have 
 made the couch. I was aiming for it." 
 
 "You did n't jump on purpose*?" he demanded, 
 with growing horror. 
 
 "Certainly. How else could I see the inside of 
 an Aristokian's house*? If you hadn't come for 
 me, they would have taken me to the blue room. 
 And she was going to nurse me. Now I must con- 
 tinue my search for my jewel." 
 
 "You 'd better not talk, old man. We '11 be 
 at the hotel in a moment. Does your head ache 
 very much*?" 
 
 76 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "No. There 's a song of victory in my heart." 
 
 Hyde shook his head sadly, patted me on the 
 hand, and murmured little soothing things to me. 
 
 When we reached the hotel they carried me to 
 my room, put me to bed, and called a doctor, with 
 whom Hyde had a mysterious consultation in whis- 
 pers. The doctor dressed my scratches, for that 's 
 all they were, and said I would be as well ''as 
 ever'' by the next day. 
 
 Hyde did not want to leave me, so I pre- 
 tended to fall asleep, and then he tiptoed out of 
 the room. 
 
 A little later a man came up and put a wire 
 netting in all the windows. As he passed the bed 
 he gave me a funny look. I winked at him, and 
 he fled. 
 
 In the evening I dined in my room. Hyde 
 came in. He seemed very much troubled. He 
 said he had had a wireless calling him back to 
 America. He did n't like to leave me, and wanted 
 to know if I did not think I had had enough of 
 Aristokia. He would be glad to take me back 
 to my people. 
 
 77 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Poor fellow I He was a real pal with a big 
 heart. I was conscience-stricken, and tried to 
 reassure him as to my mental condition. I don't 
 think I succeeded, however, for he said good-by 
 sorrowfully, with many unspoken misgivings. I 
 vowed then and there that on my return to Amer- 
 ica I would in some way try to show my apprecia- 
 tion for his great kindness to me. I thought of 
 the baron. After all, there was something to be 
 said for the brotherhood of man. 
 
 78 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 AT about nine o'clock, shortly after Hyde 
 had left me, there was a knock at my door. 
 I opened it, and there stood Fraulein Chaperon. 
 My heart jumped. 
 
 "Is she with you*?" I cried. 
 
 ''Ack, nein! Lady Gwendolyn, she cannot 
 come to hotels." 
 
 I asked her to come in, and closed the door. She 
 handed me a very lovely bouquet of flowers and 
 a note. 
 
 Smithy dear, it was a mad, wonderful thing to do. 
 You frightened me terribly. I am in disgrace with papa 
 and mama for showing any interest in you. But I con- 
 vinced papa that it would be an awful bore to try to 
 convict you for upsetting his breakfast. Now I kriozv 
 you really want to see me. If you are well enough come 
 to the little iron gate at the east end of our garden to- 
 morrow night at moonrise, Fraulein will let you in. I 
 do hope you are n't badly hurt, Jack. Now do you see 
 how useful the lady in black is? 
 
 Gwendolyn. 
 
 79 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I could have kissed the lady in black for bring- 
 ing me this note. While I wrote an answer to 
 it, Fraulein found a vase, filled it with water, and 
 arranged my bouquet for me. 
 
 I do not know how I lived between then and 
 the rising of the moon the following night. I 
 cannot remember anything I did; and yet at the 
 time the twenty-four hours seemed an eternity in 
 passing. 
 
 But at last the endless waiting was over, the 
 little iron gate had closed, and I was standing with 
 Gwendolyn in the garden. She led me around by 
 a narrow pathway to a bench on the opposite side 
 of the lake. There we sat and watched the moon 
 come up and touch the world with silver and drip 
 molten silver across the lake. 
 
 We spoke in whispers; why, I do not know. 
 The wind rustled softly in the trees, and the gar- 
 den was filled with ghostly fragrance. Occasion- 
 ally the murmuring silence was broken by the 
 whirring purr of a motor as man on his wings 
 rushed across the face of the moon. She was 
 dressed in shimmering white and sat close to me. 
 
 80 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 On the other side of her, on guard, alert, was the 
 faithful chaperon, an angel in black, absorbed by 
 the night. 
 
 Gwendolyn touched the scratch on my forehead. 
 I held her hand and I kissed it. That was all. 
 We did not speak of love, but of a thousand things 
 which we two beings from different worlds found 
 we had in common. 
 
 In the silence I caught myself thinking, was 
 this I, Capsule Smith? Could this be the end of 
 the twentieth century*? How remote the age's 
 turmoil and materialistic achievements seemed to 
 me in this old terraced garden of mysteries! 
 
 Perhaps I could have induced Gwendolyn to 
 fly with me to America. How quickly I would 
 have agreed had she even intimated her willing- 
 ness to adopt such a course I I might have kissed 
 her and made ardent love to her, or she might have 
 taken such steps herself. But if we had, what a 
 lot of romance, adventure, and supreme happiness 
 we should have missed! How much less would 
 be our store of memories now ! 
 
 Our modern speed is a curse; our modern sex- 
 81 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ual relations are a curse. Life for us has lost the 
 unutterable beauty of unfoldment. Our present- 
 day standards have robbed most women of the 
 charm that was Gwendolyn's. She never yielded 
 except what was asked, and then not always. She 
 was coy. It is a word we do not understand any 
 more. 
 
 This night was only the beginning. We had 
 many more such meetings, some by moonlight, 
 some in the blazing sunlight of noon, at twilight 
 in rain and wind, and on black nights under gold 
 besprinkled skies. 
 
 In all this time we did not speak of love ex- 
 cept in the abstract. Instead we talked of life 
 and of men and the ways of men in her world and 
 in mine. We came to know each other with that 
 subtle understanding which makes for real com- 
 panionship. 
 
 At first we had flirted consciously, but that 
 stage passed quickly. One does not flirt except 
 casually, and we could no longer be casual. Each 
 became interested in the other as the symbol of an 
 
 82 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 antipodal idea. She was Aristokia; I was the 
 Universal Proletarian Republic. From discus- 
 sions in the abstract and descriptions and criticisms 
 of our respective worlds, it was only a step, and 
 a very natural one, to set forth and propound our 
 ambitions. 
 
 Gwendolyn wanted to reform Aristokia. She 
 purposed to retain all the beauty, culture, art, 
 and fineness of that strangely esthetic and fastid- 
 ious land, and to rid it of its obsolete customs, its 
 arrant absurdities, anachronisms, and formalisms. 
 She longed to free it from the inertia of accumu- 
 lated tradition. Gwendolyn had not the remot- 
 est idea how she would accomplish all this, but 
 she knew it to be her destiny, though at that time 
 women in Aristokia were no better off in respect to 
 political power than they had been in the world 
 at large before the Great War. 
 
 My ambitions were analogous, but on a much 
 vaster scale. I aimed at nothing less than the ab- 
 solute overthrow of the existing social order, with 
 its iniquitous tyranny of labor. Gwendolyn al- 
 
 «3 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ways maintained that she would achieve some 
 measure of success, but that I was doomed to fail- 
 ure. 
 
 One evening we stood by the lake in her gar- 
 den. The reflected fires of the setting sun smiled 
 up at us. We were tossing small pebbles into the 
 water, watching the picture shatter in a sudden 
 splash of color like a broken stained-glass window, 
 then undulate and re-form. 
 
 "How many years was capital up and labor 
 down*?" asked Gwendolyn. 
 
 I started to answer this with facile levity to 
 the effect that until the Great Revolution labor 
 had always been down ; then I thought an instant. 
 Gwendolyn was thinking of capital and labor in 
 the industrial phase. Men had been slaves and 
 serfs for centuries, but capital and labor in the 
 modern sense was the twin offspring of the union 
 of coal and iron. 
 
 "One hundred years," I said. "From the Na- 
 poleonic wars to the Great War." 
 
 Gwendolyn looked up at me with one of her 
 sudden smiles. 
 
 84 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Then, Jackie, you will be eighty years old be- 
 fore you realize your ambition. You have fifty 
 years to wait." 
 
 Would the tyranny of labor last one hundred 
 years, I wondered. I threw a pebble into the 
 lake and watched the chaos of color gradually 
 through successive rhythms give place to the 
 ordered, symmetrical quiet of a reflection iden- 
 tical to the one we had seen before I threw the 
 stone. 
 
 "After each great war in the world's history 
 that has happened," I said, pointing at the swirl 
 of color. "Everything has gone into the crucible, 
 and it has seemed as if something better must form 
 afterward. But mankind has slipped back just 
 as that reflection is slipping back, slowly, rhyth- 
 mically. Nineteen-nineteen, nineteen-twenty — 
 what an opportunity they had I But man was 
 lymphatic, and the gods played a joke on him. 
 They threw more pebbles I" I dashed a handful 
 of gravel into the lake. 
 
 We were both silent for several minutes. Then 
 Gwendolyn suggested that her world and mine 
 
 85 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 might have to be thrown together and fused again 
 in some mightier cataclysm. 
 
 In such interchange of ideas and opinions we 
 spent our time together. All discussion of our 
 present and future personal relationship was, by 
 an unspoken understanding, taboo. I think we 
 both felt instinctively that once love and passion 
 entered into our relations, they would preclude 
 all other emotions. 
 
 Slowly at the time, and with uncanny rapidity 
 in retrospect, the summer passed. 
 
 Of course all was not smooth sailing. Two 
 people could not meet clandestinely, in a country 
 where such meetings were illegal, without run- 
 ning obvious risks and encountering hairbreadth 
 escapes. We had many such, one of which was 
 especially noteworthy and unforgetable. As a 
 result of it I became at first an involuntary, and 
 then an all-too-willing inmate of Wigleigh Hall. 
 
 We were in the garden one evening at the end 
 of an excessively hot day. An uncanny stillness 
 enveloped us. The air was torpid. Every now 
 and then the leaves on the trees about us shivered 
 
 86 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 in anticipation of the storm which was slowly ap- 
 proaching with long, ponderous reverberations of 
 distant thunder and fitful flashes of lightning. 
 We sat and watched the tempest's almost meas- 
 ured tread toward us. Steadily the thunder 
 grew louder, the lightning more brilliant. It was 
 like the coming of a vast Juggernaut with rolling 
 drums. 
 
 We had caught the spell of the drowsing gar- 
 den, and were unusually silent. Something had 
 been said about the advisability of my taking my 
 departure before the storm broke, but nothing had 
 been done about the matter. 
 
 For nearly two hours we sat in fascinated con- 
 templation of the storm's relentless oncoming, un- 
 til it seemed to us that so it must continue, like 
 some titanic treadmill, approaching always and 
 arriving never. Gwendolyn gave expression to 
 that thought, but the literal-minded chaperon said 
 something to the effect that storms which kept 
 coming eventually came. 
 
 No sooner had she spoken than nature proved 
 her a prophet. A few big drops fell like hot 
 
 87 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 tears from some giant, a sudden gust of wind, a 
 wild splash, and then the deluge. 
 
 We ran frantically up the path and entered 
 Wigleigh Hall. As we stood in a group and 
 talked about our escape from drowning, a puddle 
 formed on the floor. 
 
 From the veI^y first Gwendolyn and I had 
 agreed to observe the reasonable caution of meet- 
 ing always in the garden and never in the house. 
 So this was the first time that I had set foot under 
 the baron's roof since my airplane visit. 
 
 As I was already in the house Gwendolyn de- 
 cided that I might as well stay there until the 
 storm had passed, for mama and papa were at a 
 dinner party at Prince Romanoff's, from which 
 Gwendolyn had excused herself by feigning a 
 headache in order to spend the evening with me. 
 
 When Gwendolyn went to her room to change 
 her dress the chaperon led me through a maze of 
 corriders to one of the servant's rooms. There 
 a frightened young man who was pretending not 
 to mind the storm, was told to lend me some 
 
 88 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 clothes. The young man asked no questions. I 
 volunteered no information. 
 
 When I had changed, the chaperon, who had 
 waited for me somewhere in the neighborhood, re- 
 appeared and conducted me to Gwendolyn's bou- 
 doir. I was thrilled. My heart beat faster than 
 was its wont, and I felt a strange elation, an in- 
 explicable exhilaration, which gave a touch of 
 unreality to all I saw, heard, did, and said. 
 From that moment I understood the phrase 
 "walking en air," which I had encountered often 
 in romantic literature and had thought rather silly, 
 or at least over-fanciful. 
 
 The boudoir was indescribably beautiful. It 
 seemed somehow to be permeated with Gwendo- 
 lyn's personality. Every chair was comfortable, 
 the colors were harmonious, the lights soft, low, 
 restful. Yes, it was Gwendolyn, but a new 
 Gwendolyn, a Gwendolyn in a fascinating neg- 
 ligee, intimate, appealing, entrancingly feminine, 
 and with a soupgon of mystery about her. 
 
 I thought myself speechless, but suddenly I be- 
 
 89 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 came aware of my voice saying, "Your boudoir, 
 how wonderful I" and in some vague way I knew 
 it was not the first time that I had said it. Gwen- 
 dolyn was laughing, but not so much at me as 
 with me. 
 
 "What 's the matter, Jackie?" 
 
 "You 're — you 're so different — here," I stam- 
 mered. 
 
 "That 's rather a questionable compliment." 
 
 "Not at all. I knew the first time that I saw 
 you that you would be wonderful in a thousand 
 different ways, but how could I tell just what 
 the wonders would be? Now I have been 
 vouchsafed acquaintance with yet another 
 wonder." 
 
 "It is n't I." She laughed softly again. "It 's 
 the lighting, Jackie dear. I 'm glad you like my 
 boudoir," she added pensively. "It 's the only 
 comfortable room in the house. As long as 
 you 're here now, I ought to take you for a tour of 
 the establishment. You may never have another 
 opportunity. Mama and papa won't be home 
 for hours. The Romanoffs always have stuffy 
 
 90 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 dinners. Besides, mama and papa can't possibly 
 fly back in this storm." 
 
 I wanted to stay in the boudoir, but I knew that 
 if I did, I should surely make love to Gwendolyn. 
 And then, too, I was curious to see the mansion. 
 
 Gwendolyn read my thoughts, I think, for she 
 said with an enigmatic smile: 
 
 "We can be cozy when we come back. It won't 
 take long." 
 
 And with that she led the way. I followed, 
 and behind us trailed the chaperon. Did n't the 
 poor woman ever get tired of following Gwen- 
 dolyn about, I wondered. 
 
 "First we '11 visit mama's apartment, very gor- 
 geous, Louis Quatorze. After you see it and real- ^ 
 ize that mama lives in it you '11 understand her y' 
 better." 
 
 "It 's a room in a museum," I gasped as we en- 
 tered. "She does n't sleep in that bed, does she?" 
 
 "Yes. Does n't this make mama clear to you, 
 Jackie *?" 
 
 "No. It only makes you more inexplicable 
 than ever," 1 replied. 
 
 91 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "This is mother's boudoir," announced Gwen- 
 dolyn as we entered a slightly smaller room done 
 in the same stupendous manner. "This door leads 
 to papa's sanctum sanctorum." 
 
 Never was contrast more abysmal. Papa's den 
 was utterly English, heavy, dark, mahogany, rich, 
 eternal. There were books; the man actually 
 read I And everywhere were framed engravings 
 of notable coats of arms. 
 
 "Father's hobby is heraldry," said Gwendolyn. 
 
 A door was open into an adjoining room. 
 
 "That 's his bedroom." She pointed through 
 the door. 
 
 I walked in, I had hardly glanced about when 
 the chaperon emitted a noise which was the result 
 of a groan turning into a squeak. I turned. 
 Gwendolyn turned. The chaperon was white and 
 trembling visibly. In the study from which we 
 had just come stood the cause of her agitation, the 
 baron I 
 
 "Mein Gottl Mein Gott!" the chaperon re- 
 peated helplessly. 
 
 Now we were in for it ! 
 92 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Quick I" said Gwendolyn, and running past me 
 she seized one of my hands and dragged me toward 
 the door at the opposite end of the room. 
 
 As we crossed the bedroom I remember thinking 
 that this would be one charge that the baron would 
 press and one arrest that he would see through 
 to the end. I tripped over a rug. 
 
 "That you, Jenkins?" the baron called out. 
 
 We reached the door; Gwendolyn pushed me 
 ahead of her. But it was too late; the baron 
 was in the room. 
 
 "Fraulein, what are you doing in here?" he 
 asked. "Gwendolyn, my dear — who 's that?" 
 "That" meant me. My mouth opened and closed. 
 Not a sound emerged. But it did not matter. 
 The baron went on talking. "How 's your head- 
 ache, my dear? Much better, of course. Ex- 
 traordinary headaches you have lately. They 
 come and go with such precision. Where 's Jen- 
 kins?" 
 
 He paused. The jig was up, I told myself; 
 he suspected Gwendolyn. He had come home on 
 purpose. 
 
 93 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I caught sight of the chaperon. She was pet- 
 rified, like a little stone image of some pagan god. 
 Her face was ashen gray. I looked at Gwen- 
 dolyn. She was quite composed and smiled reas- 
 suringly. 
 
 ''Khat-chool" 
 
 I almost jumped out of my skin. The baron 
 was sneezing violently. 
 
 "Got caught in the beastly storm," he said as 
 soon as he had stopped sneezing. "Soaking wet. 
 Must take a hot bath or I '11 die of cold. Silly 
 way to die, that." Suddenly he looked at me and 
 took a step toward me. "That face, that face!" 
 
 Instinctively my hands went up to hide the 
 offending physiognomy. 
 
 "What 's the matter with it, papa*?" 
 
 "Familiar, damned familiar I Where's Jen- 
 kins?'' 
 
 Gwendolyn ignored his question, 
 
 "Naturally his face is familiar. You 've seen 
 him before." 
 
 "His clothes look like Jenkins's, but his face 
 does n't," said the baron. 
 
 94 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I looked at myself askance, and for the first time 
 realized that I had on a valet's outfit, and was 
 therefore reasonably safe unless the baron remem- 
 bered me. 
 
 "Jenkins has left," Gwendolyn was saying. 
 "This I presume is Smith, the new man you en- 
 gaged. I came in to look for a book, and found 
 him here." 
 
 The baron looked at me sharply. 
 
 "I engaged him'?" 
 
 "Why, yes. Father; yesterday." 
 
 "Yesterday! Yesterday! Beastly bore; can't 
 remember. Face is familiar." Another violent 
 fit of sneezing gave a new direction to his dis- 
 course. "Daughter, Fraulein, get out! Man — 
 whatever your name is — " 
 
 "Smith, sir," I interposed. 
 
 " 'Your Lordship,' " whispered Gwendo- 
 lyn. 
 
 "No, no; not Smith," continued the baron. 
 "Draw tub, lay out pajamas, take off shoes. 
 Good night, Gwendolyn." 
 
 The poor little chaperon fairly fled from the 
 
 95 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 room, squeezing past Gwendolyn, who had turned 
 in the doorway. 
 
 Gwendolyn smiled at me with her eyes and 
 said: ''Good night, dear." 
 
 Papa thought of course that these bounties were 
 meant for him, and repeated vaguely. "Good 
 night, good night." 
 
 He sat down, and I prepared to remove his 
 shoes. The door closed. I was alone with 
 Baron Wigleigh. I heard Gwendolyn laughing as 
 she went down the corridor. I was far from 
 laughing. What I did not know about the art of 
 being a valet would have made an interesting uni- 
 versity course. 
 
 "So somebody called Smith begat you, and now 
 you have to go through life with a name that has 
 become the symbol of a class. Too bad I" said the 
 baron as I removed his right shoe. 
 
 I wondered if menials thanked barons for sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "I sha'n't call you Smith." 
 
 "What would your Lordship like to call me?" 
 
 96 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I asked in my best valet manner as I removed his 
 left shoe. 
 
 "I shall name you something appropriate after 
 I know you better. A man's name should fit 
 him." 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." 
 
 "Are you just agreeing or do you really think 
 so?' 
 
 "I really think so, your Lordship." 
 
 "You think I How extraordinary !" 
 
 After a little rummaging in drawers I found his 
 pajamas. I placed them on the bed. In a closet 
 I discovered some slippers. Thank Heaven that 
 barons did not differ from most mortals when it 
 came to these matters! I put the slippers on his 
 feet, then I went to the bath-room, a vast place 
 in which the "tub" was a small swimming-pool 
 sunk below the level of the room. There was a 
 shower also, and along the walls were various 
 gymnastic instruments. 
 
 "I like my tub at ninety-eight degrees Fahren- 
 heit," said the baron. 
 
 97 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Fastened to the side of the lake he called a tub 
 was a thermometer. Water flowed into this pool 
 and drained out continuously so that to keep the 
 water at a temperature of ninety-eight was simply 
 a matter of regulating the proportion of hot to cold 
 water in the inflow. This I accomplished with 
 little difficulty. 
 
 Presently the baron entered. He removed his 
 bath-robe, which he must have found for himself, 
 since I had completely forgotten the existence of 
 such a thing, and stepped into the pool. He 
 swam about, in some way contriving to keep his 
 monocled eye dry. 
 
 I thought I ought to leave; but he seemed to 
 expect me to stay, so I remained. I caught my- 
 self thinking: "All naked men look alike. 
 What makes a baron ^" Of course there was that 
 glass eye. How the dickens did he manage to 
 keep it in while he swam about? I wanted to ask 
 him, but a fortunate sense of discretion restrained 
 me. 
 
 His head bobbed up. 
 
 "You may fix me a hot toddy," he said. 
 
 98 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Yes, sir — your Lordship." 
 
 What the deuce was a hot toddy? I tried to 
 remember, but this must be one alcoholic beverage 
 which I had missed. 
 
 "Where shall I find it, your Lordship*?" 
 
 "You can't find 2/," he replied and began splash- 
 ing about. 
 
 I thought this over. He looked at me amused. 
 
 '7/ does n't exist until you create it." 
 
 "I meant where should I find the ingredients, 
 your Lordship." 
 
 "You should always say what you mean. You 
 will find everything you require except hot water 
 in the cellaret in my study. And over there," — 
 he pointed to the wash-stand, — "is a tap marked 
 'hot drinking-water.' Just a dash of lemon. I 
 don't like it too sour." 
 
 Well, at any rate, I had discovered that the 
 thing called "toddy" was made with hot water and 
 had a dash of lemon in it. 
 
 I went into the study. It took me a little time 
 to discover that a curious cabinet-like piece of 
 furniture opened up and contained many bottles. 
 
 99 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I looked them over. There were a lot of those 
 things called cordials, port, sherry, whisky, and a 
 bottle the label of which bore many coats of arms 
 and merely said, "Scotch." I had n't the faintest 
 idea what liquid one put into a toddy or in what 
 proportion to the hot water. This was going to 
 be a frightful experiment. I looked at the bottles 
 again. 
 
 I picked up a glass and held it to the light. It 
 was immaculate. I groaned. My career as a 
 valet hung in the balance. Then among the bot- 
 tles I spied a bowl of granulated sugar. Anything 
 with a dash of lemon in it must have a dash of 
 sugar, too. Besides, had not the baron said, "not 
 too sour'"? I hurriedly dumped a spoonful of 
 sugar into the glass. I returned to my perusal 
 of the labels. Words echoed in my mind. 
 "Father's hobby is heraldr}%" Gwendolyn had re- 
 marked. "Heraldry I" My poor brain repeated 
 it. The bottle marked "Scotch" had more coats 
 of arms on it than any other. I seized it quickly 
 before I had time to weaken, and half filled my 
 
 100 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 tumbler with its contents. I stirred the sugar and 
 added the dash of lemon. Then I marched off to 
 get the hot water. 
 
 As I passed through the bedroom the baron, 
 now attired in pink pajamas, was clambering into 
 bed. He looked at the glass in my hand. 
 
 "Is n't that rather a stiff dose*?" he asked. 
 
 I had not the remotest idea what he meant. So 
 I compromised. 
 
 "Does your Lordship think so*?" I asked. 
 
 "Well, perhaps to cure a cold — " He nodded 
 his head. "If I become loquacious in my sleep, it 
 really won't matter." He waved his hand at me. 
 
 I continued into the bath-room, added the hot 
 water, and returned. I handed the tumbler to 
 the baron, and did n't know whether to run for 
 my life or await the results of my concoction. He 
 sipped it, and then looked at me. 
 
 "Extraordinary I" he murmured. 
 
 I waited, certain that death-sentence was about 
 to be passed on the new valet. 
 
 "You made it with Scotch instead of rye I" 
 
 101 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I swallowed hard. 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." I could think of no 
 adequate defense. 
 
 "Ninety-nine persons out of one hundred would 
 have made it with rye. I prefer Scotch. Thank 
 you — Watson." 
 
 "Is that to be my name, your Lordship ■?" I in- 
 quired, treating the matter of the Scotch with out- 
 ward indifference, but inwardly blessing my luck. 
 
 "Yes. Watson is a person who interprets his 
 master's wishes and appreciates his good taste. 
 Good night, Watson. I shall go right to sleep. 
 You may open all the windows and put out the 
 lights. Awaken me at eight o'clock. Remind 
 me that I must prepare a paper for the Royal 
 Blues." 
 
 I did as he directed. As I closed the door be- 
 hind me I heard the baron murmur : 
 
 "A Watson at last ! Thank God !" 
 
 Outside in the corridor I ran into the pathetic 
 little chaperon, who stared at me with startled 
 eyes. I don't think she had expected to see me 
 alive again. 
 
 102 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Ach^ Gott in Himmeir she exclaimed. 
 "Miss Gwendolyn she would know what hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "Tell Miss Gwendolyn that as a valet I am a 
 triumphant success. My name is Watson," I 
 added grandly. 
 
 ''Colossal I Wundervolir' came in tones of 
 admiration from the slowly reviving chaperon. 
 
 We reached the chamber in which I was to 
 spend the night. Fraulein bade me good night 
 and left me. 
 
 While I undressed, I decided that my days as 
 a tourist were over. Watson chance had made 
 me, and Watson I would remain until some faux 
 pas of mine brought down on me the baron's dis- 
 pleasure. I got into bed and turned out the light. 
 
 Somewhere under the same roof Gwendolyn 
 slept, or lay awake thinking of me as I was think- 
 ing of her. There was something about this 
 thought that sent me into Slumberland more 
 serenely and mellifluously than I had ever gone 
 before. 
 
 103 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 I AWOKE to the sound of my own voice say- 
 ing "Gwendolyn." For a moment I was 
 startled by the strange room; then recollection 
 came most pleasantly. I was in Gwendolyn's 
 home, I could be near her always, I could see her 
 unnumbered times a day. My eye rested on a 
 clock. It was 7 145 a. m. I jumped out of bed 
 and dressed hurriedly. In ecstatic contemplation 
 of my good fortune I had almost forgotten that I 
 was now Watson and that Watson had duties to 
 perform. 
 
 At eight o'clock I entered the baron's room. 
 He was snoring. I stood and watched him. 
 How did a valet honored by the name of Watson 
 awaken a baron? Did one call, or would it be 
 necessary to shake him'? 
 
 As I considered this problem I listened fasci- 
 nated to the baronial snoring. There is something 
 soul-absorbing about a real snore. One never 
 
 104 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 knows just what it will do next. Now it is a purr, 
 anon a gurgle, a chirp, a wheeze, suddenly a 
 whistle, and then a sputter. Some one should 
 write a treatise on the great variety and yet ex- 
 traordinary rhythmic recurrence of snores. 
 
 It was two minutes past eight. I must awaken 
 him. I must awaken him. The intensity of my 
 wish brought the desired result. With a terrific 
 cachinnation he awoke. He looked at me with 
 one eye; the one usually adorned with his monocle 
 he kept closed. 
 
 "Another day. Beastly bore; probably just 
 like yesterday," he half yawned. 
 
 "Good morning, your Lordship," I said. 
 
 "Ah, Watson I I was afraid I had dreamed 
 you." 
 
 "Two and a half minutes past eight, your Lord- 
 ship." 
 
 He was pawing about on the table beside his 
 bed with outstretched arm and hand. I jumped 
 to his assistance, and without stopping to think 
 gave him his glass eye. He stuck it in, and turned 
 and beamed on me. 
 
 105 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Watson, indeed I" was his comment. 
 
 The day was starting auspiciously for the new 
 valet. 
 
 The baron slid out of bed. 
 
 "Even you^ Watson, cannot be expected to 
 know every man's routine. I bathe, shave, dress, 
 in that order. You prepare my bath, lay out my 
 clothes. And while I am dressing, you remind 
 me of any little thing I may have forgotten." 
 
 Something he said made me shudder at the 
 thought of possible consequences ; but I resolutely 
 put it out of my mind and turned my attention to 
 his bath. I would cross bridges as I came to 
 them. 
 
 "And at what temperature do we take our morn- 
 ing bath^" I asked glibly. 
 
 Why I had used this obsolete editorial form of 
 expression I could not tell. I must have read it 
 somewhere in a silly novel. The moment the 
 phrase was out of my mouth I regretted it, for the 
 baron was looking at me intently. At last he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, Watson, for the perfect 
 106 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 man is part of his master, and the master is de- 
 pendent on the art of his man. We will take a 
 cold plunge this morning, Watson." 
 
 I had scored another hit. Such good fortune 
 was uncanny. I began to be suspicious. Surely 
 something frightful would befall me soon to even 
 the score of fickle chance. 
 
 All through the bath and the baron's exercising 
 afterward a terrible thought pounded at my con- 
 sciousness: Should I have to shave him? If I 
 did, should I kill him, wound him, or disfigure him 
 for life? What would happen? 
 
 When he finished his exercises, he turned to 
 me. 
 
 "And now for our shave, Watson." 
 
 I quaked. Tlys was the end; I could not do it. 
 He was Gwendolyn's father. I must fly. 
 
 "You will find the telephone over there," he 
 said, pointing. 
 
 With the dawn of hope in my heart I went 
 over to the instrument. It had several buttons, 
 which one pushed to get the desired connection, 
 and one of these buttons was marked "Barber." 
 
 107 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I had escaped an impending catastrophe. My 
 star was in the ascendant. 
 
 The barber was a little rat-like creature, with a 
 quick, nervous manner, close-set eyes, and brick- 
 red hair. It made me jumpy to see him with a 
 razor in his hand, though he wielded it dex- 
 terously. He shaved the baron quickly and 
 silently. He said, "Good morning," on entering 
 and "Good-by," when he left; that was all. 
 
 "He 's an anarchist," remarked the baron after 
 the barber had gone. "I think he became a bar- 
 ber solely in order to kill people neatly. He 's the 
 best one in Aristokia." 
 
 "Isn't your Lordship afraid?" I asked. 
 
 "Certainly not. Why should he kill me? 
 He 's a super-anarchist. He wants to kill off the 
 proletariat, not the aristocracy. No such thing 
 as anarchy, Watson. If chaos were the social 
 order, then chaos would be a tyranny. One can't 
 escape it. Freedom is the great delusion. All 
 \ democrats are crazy." 
 
 I considered these words worth remembering, so 
 I wrote them down in shorthand on my cuff. 
 
 108 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 The baron had been dressing, and was now 
 ready for his suit. Then it was that I made my 
 first mistake. In one closet there hung several 
 suits. On a shelf above them were their labels, 
 "Morning Coats." Farther along were "Sack 
 Suits." I took down a morning coat. 
 
 The baron looked at me in pained surprise. 
 
 "Surely, Watson, we would n't wear a morning 
 coat before noon, would we? One of my gray 
 sack suits." 
 
 Why one should not wear a morning coat in the 
 morning was incomprehensible to me. 
 
 "Your Lordship has a paper to prepare for the 
 Royal Blues," I reminded him, changing the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "Yes, Watson, a paper on the advisability of 
 permitting the Royal Blues to marry outside of 
 their caste. The Hohenzollerns have inbred to a 
 suicidal degree." The baron was dressed. "Be 
 in my study at ten o'clock, Watson. My secre- 
 tary is a bourgeois ass, a mere amanuensis. He 
 does n't stimulate my mind. I want to tell you 
 about my paper." 
 
 109 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." 
 
 I bowed, and the baron passed out. 
 
 While the baron and the baroness breakfasted 
 I was sequestered in Gwendolyn's boudoir, the 
 faithful but now very jumpy chaperon on guard. 
 
 "Good morning, Gwendolyn," I began. 
 
 "I just sent for you to say good-by," she said, 
 "for now 's your chance to skip, Jackie. We can 
 meet in the garden to-morrow night. This eve- 
 ning we are giving a dinner party, and I 'm afraid 
 my headache is overworked." I looked at her. 
 "What 's the matter^" she inquired. 
 
 I was smiling at her indulgently. 
 
 "I 'm not going to leave, Gwendolyn. I 'm go- 
 ing to stay on forever as your father's valet." 
 
 "You madman I You can't I" she protested, 
 incredulous, "Jack, you 're not serious!" 
 
 "I am. I think your father is wonderful; he 
 thinks I 'm wonderful. We suit each other per- 
 fectly." 
 
 "Stop teasing me, Jack," she pleaded. 
 
 I told of my adventures with her father, and 
 
 110 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 by the end of my narrative she began to weaken, 
 finally convinced that I was in earnest. 
 
 "For your dear father's sake let me stay. One 
 can't get a Watson every day, you know." 
 
 "O Jackie," she said, suddenly tender, laying a 
 hand gently on my arm, "you know I 'd love to 
 have you, don't you?" I looked into her eyes by 
 way of answer, and my heart beat faster. "But 
 — it 's impossible. Jack. We '11 get caught. 
 The people dining here to-night will recognize 
 you." 
 
 Before either of us could convince the other, 
 Fraulein sounded a tocsin. The baroness was ap- 
 proaching, 
 
 I had my morning repast in the servitor's hall 
 alone, every one else having breakfasted earlier. 
 The frightened young man of the night before 
 waited on me. 
 
 A footman and a butler, passing the entrance to 
 the hall, scowled at me, 
 
 " 'E 's the chap who fell through the glass, Hi 
 tell yerl Hi bought to know. Hi lugged 'im 
 
 111 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 hout," the footman informed the butler with acer- 
 bity. 
 
 "Hi '11 bet 'e 'as n't got a union-card," said the 
 butler. 
 
 "Well, if 'e 'as n't, hout 'e goes. No scabs in 
 this 'ouse." 
 
 With these disconcerting remarks they passed 
 beyond earshot. I looked up from my food, for 
 which I had suddenly lost all predilection, and 
 caught the eye of the frightened young man, who 
 looked more startled than ever and pretended to 
 busy himself wiping a plate. I swallowed my 
 coifee hurriedly and arose. 
 
 I walked to a window overlooking the garden. 
 The baron was taking his constitutional; Gwen- 
 dolyn was nowhere in sight. 
 
 Damn the unions ! I must see Gwendolyn and 
 explain this new complication. In the enjoyment 
 of adventure in Aristokia I had quite forgotten 
 that the proletariat ruled the world. 
 
 Although they condescended to engage them- 
 selves to the Aristokians, they were known as servi- 
 tors, not servants. They abided by all the cus- 
 
 112 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 toms of nobility and etiquette, and in turn de- 
 manded implicit obedience to their union rules. 
 They received fabulous wages, and it was tacitly 
 understood that they were the real masters of the 
 world. The Aristokians were in a sense political 
 prisoners, albeit voluntary prisoners in their own 
 country. 
 
 It being not yet ten o'clock, I wandered about 
 the corridors of the house, hoping for a chance to 
 see Gwendolyn and have a few words with her. 
 Failing in my quest, I continued on my way to the 
 baron's study, and then, as I passed the open door 
 of the baroness's boudoir, I espied Gwendolyn, but 
 her mother was with her. 
 
 That great dame looked at me in shocked sur- 
 prise and clutched her daughter's arm. 
 
 "Who's that?" she cried. 
 
 "Father's new valet, I believe," replied Gwen- 
 dolyn, with an indifference worthy of her 
 sire. 
 
 But the baroness knew better. She was puffing 
 from too much breakfast and explosive with ex- 
 citement. 
 
 113 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Why, my dear, it 's that fellow who smashed 
 through the roof I" 
 
 "Do you really think so? I don't remember 
 him," lied Gwendolyn. 
 
 "I could n't forget his face. Don't you remem- 
 ber, my dear, I said it was a crime for Nobodies 
 to be so good-looking?" 
 
 "I 'm surprised that you should notice such 
 things," said Gwendolyn in papa's best manner. 
 
 It was a hit, a palpable hit. The baroness 
 spluttered. She gurgled something about looking 
 on male Nobodies as one looked on furniture or 
 sunsets or — Then she got terribly mixed and 
 ruffled, for Gwendolyn was laughing at her. 
 
 I was standing around the corner of the cor- 
 ridor where I could hear without being seen, and 
 I heard footsteps as a third person joined them. 
 
 "George!" exploded the baroness, — that was 
 Baron Wigleigh's Christian name ; all the Boggses 
 had been George for generations, — "George !" 
 
 "Yes, my dear? What stupendous trifle has 
 discommoded you now?" 
 
 "Your new valet — " began mama. 
 114 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Ah-h, Watson I" said the baron. 
 
 "He 's the person who fell through the glass 
 and spoiled your breakfast." She got no further. 
 
 "Impossible I" 
 
 "Well, why is it impossible? I tell you, I re- 
 member him. You never remember anybody." 
 
 "It is very banal to remember people, my dear 
 Phoebe," drawled the baron. 
 
 His wife ignored this remark and repeated 
 vehemently: "Why is it impossible*?" 
 
 "Because his name is Watson," replied the 
 baron, starting in my direction. 
 
 I walked quickly from my hiding place into the 
 study. The baron, in my wake, left behind him a 
 noisily inarticulate wife. The poor woman's life 
 was evidently a great trial to her, between the 
 humors of her daughter and the quaintness of her 
 husband's mind. 
 
 "Ah, Watson," chirped the baron, pleasantly. 
 Then his gaze wandered to a corner of the room, 
 and he nodded perfunctorily to an amazingly old- 
 looking young man who stood beside the stenotype 
 machine. 
 
 115 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Good morning, your Lordship. Did your 
 Lordship sleep well?" the young-old man whined 
 in a plaintively solicitous tone. 
 
 The baron merely grunted a response. It was 
 palpable that this worm of indefinite and indeter- 
 minable age annoyed him. 
 
 "Watson, my secretary, Mr. Ambrose Tibbets. 
 He writes much faster than I can talk." By 
 which the baron meant to convey the impression 
 that this was the only thing with which to com- 
 mend his secretary. 
 
 While the baron prepared himself for his work, 
 I examined the stenotype. It was one of the 
 latest American models. The shorthand hiero- 
 glyphics on the keys were of the standard system, 
 and the only way in which the machine surprised 
 me was in the writing it produced; for instead of 
 being in ordinary roman type, it was in longhand 
 script. The baron was- evidently trying to com- 
 promise with a utilitarian world. It greatly 
 amused me. 
 
 Mr. Tibbits explained to me. 
 
 "His Lordship did n't like his letters typed, so 
 116 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I suggested to him that a machine could be made 
 that would reproduce his handwriting." 
 
 "And Tibbits has been basking in the glory of 
 his achievement ever since," said the baron. The 
 amanuensis smiled gratefully. "Tibbits, Watson 
 is here to inspire me. He is my stimulus, the 
 necessary offset to the mental atrophy which seizes 
 me when I look at you." 
 
 Ambrose smirked as if he had received a great 
 compliment. He ceased to be a person in my eyes 
 and became a symbol of his class. Here was the 
 incarnation of the servility and stupidity of the 
 bourgeoisie, a class which, although a national ma- 
 jority everywhere, had let itself be despoiled by 
 minorities. 
 
 Tibbits's father, grandfather, and great-grand- 
 father had been small-salaried men. Millions of 
 Tibbitses had let themselves be ground to dust be- 
 tween the extortions of capital and the oppressions 
 of labor. They had blindly revered the one, stood 
 in fear of the other, and earned the contempt of 
 both. In the crucible of the Revolution their 
 Christian virtues had availed them naught. The 
 
 117 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 proletariat now owned the world, and the aris- 
 tocracy consoled itself with Aristokia. The bour- 
 geoisie had their virtues. What a cosmic joke, I 
 thought I 
 
 "Aristocracy," the baron began, and the worm 
 turned to his keys and pounded, "is a tradition of 
 culture and superior mentality handed down from 
 generation to generation. Like all living things, 
 it is dependent upon the physical well-being of its 
 protagonists in order to flower and bear fruit. 
 The very existence of an aristocracy and the way 
 of living which it imposes on its members — that 
 is n't a good word," interposed the baron. "I '11 
 get another later — imposes on its adherents — 
 that 's better — tends to deteriorate the physical 
 life of the caste. It can be kept in the highest 
 degree living only by the discreet infusion from 
 time to time of the stalwart blood of other lesser 
 classes. So long as these infusions are absorbed 
 by the aristocratic blood, the tradition which is 
 aristocracy will be preserved. 
 
 "With all due respect to their Majesties and 
 Royal Highnesses, the Aristokian Royal Blues, I 
 
 118 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 must respectfully point out that the inbreeding 
 among the members of the Teutonic royal houses 
 has now brought about a condition which can be 
 ameliorated only by the infusion of — " The 
 baron paused. "What are you doing, Watson?" 
 he asked. 
 
 I had been writing his speech in shorthand on 
 scraps of paper, and I had thought him too en- 
 grossed to notice me. 
 
 "I was making a shorthand record of your Lord- 
 ship's words," I replied wondering to what un- 
 toward fate I was drifting. 
 
 "Why?" he asked. 
 
 "Because everything your Lordship says is 
 worthy of preservation." 
 
 "Really! Do you think so, Watson?" he said 
 in his most offhand manner, but I will bet my 
 pension that he was secretly elated. 
 
 "I consider myself richer by every word your 
 Lordship has uttered." 
 
 The worm regarded me enviously. Now, why 
 had n't he thought of that? 
 
 "You 're not spoofing, Watson?" 
 119 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Spoofing with your Lordship'? Lese-maj- 
 esty!" 
 
 The baron contemplated me with the expression 
 of a child regarding a new toy. 
 
 "BoswelU" he exclaimed. "Not Watson — 
 Boswelll Boswell, you have delivered me from 
 TibbitsI" The worm squirmed uncomfortably. 
 "Tibbits, go and see the majordomo. Draw a 
 month's pay in advance in lieu of notice, a month's 
 extra for bad behavior, and go! From now on 
 Boswell will take down my utterances. Boswell, 
 I shall want you at my side always." 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." 
 
 "We must never be parted. Now, where was 
 I?" 
 
 The baron had completely dismissed from his 
 mind the poor cringing Tibbits, who stood by the 
 door trying to make a farewell speech, and suc- 
 ceeded only in looking pathetic. 
 
 As the door closed, I felt intuitively that the 
 worm was a model son, that he supported a 
 widowed mother and crippled sister, and that I 
 
 120 
 

 "Draw a month's pay in advance in lieu of notice' 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 had been unwittingly guilty of a dastardly act. I 
 was very sad. 
 
 "Where was I?" repeated the baron. 
 
 "Your Lordship was saying that the Teutonic 
 royal houses — " 
 
 "Ah, yes. The silly asses think they can defy 
 the laws of nature." 
 
 With the help of my stimulus the baron pre- 
 pared a paper which was later to throw the grand 
 session of the Royal Blues into a turmoil of dis- 
 sension, but which was eventually to win the day 
 for the baron against the forces of reaction; for 
 in that strange land, in so far as there were politi- 
 cal parties, Baron Wigleigh was a liberal and a 
 radical. 
 
 We worked until luncheon. During that meal 
 I sat close to the baron, notebook in hand, and 
 wrote down his effusions. The baroness admired 
 me covertly, and Gwendolyn shot amused glances 
 in my direction. As far as I was concerned, I had 
 realized heaven on earth. 
 
 In the afternoon, just before she dressed for 
 121 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 the dinner party, Gwendolyn and I were alone to- 
 gether. She urged, then begged and implored me 
 to flee before the social event of the evening 
 brought a catastrophe on our heads. Among the 
 invited guests were Prince Romanoff, Prince Bona- 
 parte, and Prince Juan. She was convinced that 
 they would recognize and expose me. But I was 
 obdurate and, I am afraid, cruel. I was in the 
 clouds, and I intended to stay there until a thun- 
 der-clap brought me to earth. 
 
 122 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE storm of the night before had clarified 
 the air, and the evening was fair, with a 
 gentle, balmy breeze. The lake in the garden 
 was placid, and its quiet waters reflected blue skies 
 and slow-moving, feathery, cirrus clouds. So 
 much for nature and meteorology; but within the 
 walls of Wigleigh Hall man in his psychic en- 
 velopment was gathering a storm analogous in its 
 inevitability and intensity to the one nature had 
 staged the night before. The atmosphere was 
 surcharged with premonitions of impending dis- 
 aster. Gwendolyn and the chaperon washed 
 their hands of me. 
 
 The dinner was to be a great affair. Among 
 those who were to attend were several Royal 
 Blues, such as Princes Romanoff and Bonaparte, 
 sympathetic to the baron's ideas of reform. Don 
 Juan, another stanch adherent of the baron's 
 
 123 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 policy — for Machiavellian reasons of his own — 
 was not a Royal Blue; but by reason of his com- 
 mandership of the army and navy and of his 
 extraordinary personality he was a prince of vast 
 powers. He was indeed the greatest individual 
 force in the country, for the strength of the Royal 
 Blues was collective. These great persons were 
 to gather under cover of a social function to hear 
 the baron read his masterly paper. Bonaparte 
 and Romanoff were to sponsor it, as of course 
 Wigleigh was not a Royal Blue and could not 
 attend their secret deliberations. 
 
 The dining-room was truly baronial. I got an 
 impression of a vast spaciousness, of which the 
 table, arranged for twenty-four covers, occupied 
 only the center. There were stone walls; a mas- 
 sive timbered ceiling far above; strange high- 
 backed, elaborately carved Flemish chairs; a great 
 Gobelin tapestry; and somewhere partly opened 
 mullioned windows, showing a glimpse of gardens 
 in the twilight. The soft light was from silver 
 sconces. But the table itself almost succeeded in 
 
 124 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 eclipsing all else — a snowy field, resplendent with 
 platinum plate, a vision of fine lace, twinkling 
 candles, and sparkling crystal. 
 
 As I stood, just before the arrival of the guests, 
 gazing on all this splendor, my thoughts turned 
 back to the latest capsule automat which had been 
 opened just before my departure from New York 
 and blatantly proclaimed a triumph of science 
 and hygiene. If men had minds with which to 
 think, here was a board at which great talk would 
 flow. But how could one be witty, poetic, or 
 intellectual in an automat^ 
 
 Servitors in powdered wigs and gorgeous livery 
 rushed about, noiselessly efficient. 
 
 The baroness, a little breathless, dripping 
 jewels like some cataract in fairyland, wandered 
 about aimlessly. The majordomo in knee- 
 breeches and dress-coat had seen to all things. 
 
 Gwendolyn came into the room quietly. She 
 was a cool radiance, a delectable witchery, a 
 dazzling simplicity. 
 
 Before I had time to do more than exchange 
 125 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 glances with her the baron entered, looking about 
 vaguely as if for something he had lost. He saw 
 me. 
 
 *'Ah, Boswell, you are what I was looking for I 
 Stand near me to-night. Have you a large note- 
 book?" 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." 
 
 "I shall be in fine fettle this evening." 
 
 I followed him into an anteroom off the main 
 ball-room, a sort of small reception-room where 
 the guests would be greeted. As the first of these 
 arrived, Gwendolyn gave me a little look of 
 mingled compassion for my foolhardiness, hope 
 for our escape, and just friendly good wishes. It 
 was the sort of look one gives to a friend who is 
 about to try for the altitude record of the world 
 in a new type of airplane. 
 
 The first-comers were Lord and Lady Wonalan- 
 sett, descended from Americans; the Duke and 
 Duchess of Biltmore, also Americans; Count 
 Tirado, a Spaniard; and the Chevalier Van Ruys- 
 dal, a Dutchman. 
 
 The baron explained my presence airily : "Bos- 
 126 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 well — what his name connotes. You may treat 
 him as you would a chaperon. If you happen to 
 say anything which he considers worthy of associa- 
 tion with the other remarks recorded, he may give 
 you immortality. The general use of Boswells 
 would tend to restore the lost art of conversa- 
 tion to its proper place in social intercourse. Bos- 
 well is an incentive to say something worth while, 
 or, if unable, to respect the silence." 
 
 I was scribbling rapidly. Several of the guests 
 had started perceptibly at the suggestion that what 
 they would say might be recorded. I think it put 
 them instinctively on their guard, for, as the 
 baron had intimated, my presence raised the gen- 
 eral tone of the conversation. Banalities were 
 fewer; but, on the other hand, a painful straining 
 to be epigrammatic obliged me to sift the spon- 
 taneous from the labored. 
 
 I was enjoying myself hugely, and troubles 
 seemed far down on my horizon when the guests 
 of honor of the night arrived almost simultane- 
 ously. 
 
 "His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas Roman- 
 127 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 off, R.B. His Royal Highness Prince Louis 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, R.B. His Royal Highness 
 Prince Juan do Braganza, Commander-in-Chief 
 of the Imperial Aristokian Military, Naval and 
 Aerial Forces," announced the flunky at the door, 
 and in swept the triumvirate of my doom. 
 
 They paid their respects with courtly homage, 
 first to the baroness, and then to Gwendolyn, with 
 whom each one lingered to make some pretty 
 speech; for all three were suitors for her hand. 
 Romanoff was the first to greet the baron. 
 
 "My dear George," he began, and then caught 
 sight of me and stopped dead. I heard him 
 ejaculate something which sounded to my un- 
 tutored ear like "Rumpy-biub-dubsky." I sup- 
 pose it was Russian for "Great Father I Look 
 who 's here I" I never even blinked. 
 
 "Boswell," explained the baron, "invisible, like 
 a chaperon, recorder of great words — " 
 
 Romanoff interrupted him: "Where did you 
 find him, George?" 
 
 "Dropped on me like manna. A gift from the 
 gods," said my master. 
 
 128 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "I thought so." The Russian looked at me 
 fiercely. "We will talk about him later." He 
 moved away. 
 
 Napoleon was next. He greeted the baron 
 effusively, and did not notice me for some time. 
 When he did, he seized the baron's arm wildly, 
 crying : 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Look — behind you, George I 
 There it is again I" He pointed at me. He 
 shook his finger at me, and I am sure made me look 
 cross-eyed. 
 
 "Bos well — " The baron began his explana- 
 tion. 
 
 "No, no! He is a lu-na-Z^r.'" the Frenchman 
 insisted, with a peculiarly unpleasant emphasis on 
 the "tic." He moved away, gesticulating freely. 
 "Nichola-s-s I Nichola-s-s!" And then some- 
 thing which sounded like "Ah tew view ler foo," 
 which I knew must be something uncomplimentary 
 about me. 
 
 Don Juan stepped up now. His keen eyes had 
 noticed what had gone before, and while he spoke 
 
 129 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 to the baron, he looked at me. I pretended not 
 to see him. 
 
 "My dear Baron, I should like to speak to you 
 alone if that is possible," said Juan. 
 
 The baron nodded his willingness to be talked 
 to and led the way to an adjoining smoking- and 
 lounge-room. Don Juan followed. In the door- 
 way the baron turned and, seeing that I had re- 
 mained standing, called me. I went to him. 
 
 "I said 'alone^' my dear Baron," insisted Juan, 
 politely deliberate. 
 
 "Must have Boswell. You can say anything 
 in front of Boswell. He records only remarks 
 that are above par." 
 
 Don Juan shrugged helplessly. He was used 
 to the baron's eccentricities. 
 
 Romanoff and Bonaparte were already in the 
 smoking-room, talking volubly in French, They 
 both said, "Ah I" in a disagreeable now-we 've-got- 
 you sort of way as I entered. 
 
 All three began talking at once, trying to con- 
 vince the baron that I was not what I seemed. 
 
 The baron became more languorously bored 
 130 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 than I had ever dreamed a human being could be. 
 He inspired me with an awful calm. This was 
 too wonderful an adventure. Why worry about 
 the outcome? I regarded my accusers with un- 
 flinching countenance and impassive gaze. 
 
 The three dashed their impassioned diatribes 
 against the implacable wall of the baron's ennui. 
 I was Boswell, Watson-Boswell or Boswell-Wat- 
 son; therefore I could not be anything else. 
 
 Dinner was announced, putting an end to the 
 skirmish. The three great ones went off in search 
 of their dinner partners, and the baron turned 
 to me. 
 
 "Most men have no imagination," he remarked. 
 "They are slaves to fatuous things they call 
 facts." 
 
 I wondered if he really remembered me, and 
 was just pretending not to because it suited his 
 purpose. 
 
 Dinner was a lengthy affair of many courses. 
 I had to stand on the baron's right, a little behind 
 his chair, so as not to interfere with the service. 
 I wrote incessantly, for the baron was at his best, 
 
 131 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 making extraordinary quips about anything and 
 everything that struck his fancy. Before the meal 
 was over I was ravenously hungry'. Fortunately, 
 I had taken a capsule before the dinner began; 
 otherwise the combined assault of many choice 
 viands on my senses of sight and smell would 
 have been too much for me. 
 
 As the ladies got up to leave the dining-room 
 the men arose, and the baron whispered to me : 
 
 "Go and get something to eat, Boswell. Every 
 one is too gorged to think decently now. With 
 the ladies absent, vulgar stories will be told. / 
 shall remain silent until you return." 
 
 In the pantry I found great difficulty in getting 
 food. The servitors regarded me as an interloper 
 in their domain, and there were frequent murmurs 
 of "Where 's yer card*? What local do yer be- 
 long to*?" 
 
 I explained to the majordomo, who asked to see 
 my union card, that I was a union all to myself; 
 that I was not in any ordinary sense of the word 
 a servitor. I was a Boswell, the only Boswell in 
 the world. I was n't taking any man's job. In 
 
 132 
 

 
 1 wrote incessantly, fur the baron was at his best 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 fact, I should be glad to teach Boswelling to any 
 one who desired instruction in this form of service. 
 This seemed to impress the majordomo, and he de- 
 cided to feed me and tolerate me until he could 
 communicate with, and get advice from, the union 
 secretary in Saal. 
 
 I attribute my temporary success with the ma- 
 jordomo almost entirely to the fact that I had 
 unconsciously absorbed something of the baron's 
 unanswerable manner. 
 
 While I ate my meal I became very much en- 
 grossed in conversation with a large Cossack who 
 explained that he was a chemist — being something 
 of a chemist myself, I felt an added interest — 
 and that it was his duty to examine and in some 
 cases analyze every particle of food eaten by 
 Prince Romanoff, as that worthy suffered from 
 the obsession that he would some day be poisoned. 
 What a retribution for the centuries of Romanoff 
 misgovernment in Russia I 
 
 "Of course," the Cossack concluded, "I don't 
 really inspect his food. He just thinks I do. No 
 one would bother to poison him!'* 
 
 133 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Soon after I returned to the baron's side the 
 three princes accompanied him to his study, os- 
 tensibly and eventually to hear his paper, but 
 first of all to dispose of my case. 
 
 The battle was resumed at the point at which 
 it had been broken off by dinner. Napoleon took 
 the field. 
 
 "But, my dear, dear George," he said, "no one 
 enjoys your t^i-lents more than I. But r- really, 
 par bleu! Jus' becose this felow like your bons 
 mots, it is no reason why he is not insane." 
 
 The baron smiled at him benignly. 
 
 "What is insanity*?" he asked. 
 
 This simple question threw the noble company 
 into an uproar. All repeated it and then became 
 incoherent. 
 
 "It can best be defined," resumed the baron, 
 answering his own question as usual, "as a di- 
 vergence in opinion from the majority opinion of 
 your fellows. And in that sense every one is a 
 little insane. But how can you justly label one 
 person as insane when all are insane in varying 
 
 degree?" 
 
 134 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Granted I granted I" shouted Napoleon; "but 
 there is a poin' where legal insanity he begin, an' 
 dam-i-tall I You know his own f rien' say he is 
 crazee. That is enough for me." 
 
 There was a terrible pause. Napoleon struck 
 an attitude. The baron cogitated. 
 
 "Well, for the sake of argument let us admit 
 that Boswell is insane. But we should n't cast 
 him out for that. You, my dear Juan, are sar- 
 torially unbalanced." 
 
 "If any one else said such a thing, my dear 
 Baron, I would challenge him I" Juan flashed 
 dramatically. 
 
 "I know you would. That only proves my 
 point. Now you, Nicholas, you think your food 
 is poisoned — " 
 
 Nicholas looked at the baron and roared: 
 "It is. One hundred times Dimitrieff has saved 
 my life." 
 
 "All I can say is that I should not be happy 
 while under such a load of obligation to any man. 
 Now you. Napoleon," he continued, smiling, 
 "surely you have some little faihlesseV 
 
 135 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Romanoff, who had been charging about like a 
 bull, halted in front of the baron. 
 
 "This person is an anarchist. He wants a 
 statue erected to TrotzkyI Trolzky/" 
 
 "And why not a statute to Trotzky, my dear 
 Nicholas^ After all, he made all this beauty 
 and comfort possible for us. Here we have no 
 proletariat, no socialists, no anarchists, no trou- 
 bles, no worries. Here there is no one to poison 
 our food, Nicholas." 
 
 The Russian lapsed into his native tongue. 
 
 Don Juan came forward. 
 
 "All this is beside the point. This man acted 
 very strangely at the casino; but he is not insane. 
 He has some ulterior motive, and I for one have 
 suspicions which, should they prove well founded 
 — in fact, I would — " he clenched his fists, and 
 then he lapsed into his native tongue. 
 
 I was rather relieved when Napoleon inter- 
 vened. Juan's flow of Portuguese was murder- 
 ous, and he looked at me in a way that made me 
 fear his suspicions. He was Gwendolyn's most 
 
 136 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ardent suitor, the most dangerous of the three. 
 He made me uncomfortable. 
 
 Napoleon thought to clench the matter: "Sane 
 or insane, this person we saw at the casino. He is 
 a toureest, a Nobodee, a John Smit', not a propair 
 servitor." 
 
 This line of argument was getting perilously 
 near to a union card. Would one of them think 
 to ask me if I had one, I wondered. I must not 
 think of it myself or I might suggest it to them. 
 
 But as usual the baron changed the entire course 
 of the dialogue. 
 
 'T saw many people, many Smiths at the casino. 
 I don't remember any of them. If you chaps 
 were true to your caste, you would n't remember 
 them either. Boswell is Boswell, and there you 
 are." 
 
 "But, George, we do this for your sake. We 
 cannot all be wrong an' you right," argued Bona- 
 parte. 
 
 "That the minority is always right is the funda-1 
 mental fact of your existence." 
 
 137 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "W'a-atI" exclaimed Louis Napoleon Bona- 
 parte, stepping into the trap the baron's nimble wit 
 had set for him. 
 
 "You are an aristocrat. Aristocrats are a mi- 
 nority," said the baron. 
 
 Napoleon threw up his hands wildly, and then 
 he, too, lapsed into his native tongue. 
 
 After a little temporary confusion of a babel- 
 like nature, Don Juan remarshaled his forces. 
 He made a frontal attack. He came to me. 
 
 "Do you deny that you played at a table at 
 the casino on the night of — What night was 
 it?" he asked Romanoff, impatiently. 
 
 The Russian asked the Frenchman. None of 
 them remembered the date. 
 
 "It does not matter," — Juan was determined 
 not to be put off by trifles, — "do you deny playing 
 at a table at which were Lady Gwendolyn, the 
 baron, and I? Do you deny dropping a note at 
 Lady Gwendolyn's feet?" 
 
 I quaked a bit, inwardly. He was on the right 
 track. 
 
 Romanoff joined the inquisition: "Did you 
 
 138 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 not say something in that note about a statue to 
 that infamous Trotzky, murderer of my beloved 
 ancestors?" 
 
 They crowded around me. 
 
 "An' do you deny," chipped in Napoleon, "that 
 I pick' up the note an' read him, an' that your 
 frien' was arrest"?" 
 
 I am by nature truthful; besides, of what use 
 to deny these charges'? They knew that I was 
 the same man they had seen at the casino, and 
 nothing I could say would alter their conviction. 
 
 So I replied : "Your Royal Highnesses, I deny 
 nothing." 
 
 A mighty chorus of "Ahs" greeted this state- 
 ment. All three turned on the baron gloatingly. 
 It was a serious tactical error. 
 
 The baron merely secured his monocle more 
 tightly in his eye and said casually : 
 
 "I knew all the time that he was the same man." 
 
 The holy alliance erupted incoherent expletives 
 again. When it had calmed down sufficiently 
 to become articulate, under the leadership of Juan 
 the princes decided that inasmuch as I was a No- 
 
 139 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 body, a Smith, and the baron had spoken with 
 me, they had him in their power, and that unless 
 he consented to dismiss me he would be exposed. 
 It was their duty. 
 
 "Well," remarked the baron, "we shall have 
 company in exile. You have spoken to him, 
 Juan, and so have you. Napoleon, and you too, 
 Nicholas; and so have my daughter and my wife 
 and several of my other guests. We shall be a 
 merry company indeed." 
 
 Don Juan smiled ingratiatingly. "We capit- 
 ulate, my dear Baron. Send it away, and we will 
 not report the incident." 
 
 The baron smiled, too. "Your capitulation is 
 premature, Juan. It will come in a moment. 
 You let me keep my Boswell, and / won't report 
 you I'''' 
 
 "All right; but I for one shall keep an eye on 
 him," said Juan, with an evil look at me. 
 
 "He will end by poisoning you," said Romanoff. 
 
 "The incident it is close' for the presen'. You 
 'ave wan your poin' temporarily, but — " Napo- 
 
 140 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 leon hit the conjunction with premonitory empha- 
 sis. 
 
 "But, my dear Napoleon, like your illustrious 
 ancestor, you are never satisfied. You will end 
 in St. Helena because you would not stay in Elba." 
 
 With the above historic remark the baron closed 
 the subject and drew forth his paper, which he 
 read to the great men with gusto. It was much 
 applauded, and the three highnesses left in better 
 humor than they had been during most of the 
 evening. Napoleon and Romanoff seemed mol- 
 lified and were willing to admit that I was a use- 
 ful adjunct to a great man, but Juan was mistrust- 
 ful to the end. 
 
 When they had gone, I spoke to the baron: 
 "Your Lordship, your trust in me has been so im- 
 plicit that I feel I should tell your Lordship who 
 I am." 
 
 "You are Boswell, my dear fellow, Boswell. 
 It would be such a bore if you turned out some one 
 else." 
 
 I was looking forward to an endless existence as 
 141 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Boswell, — well fed, well housed, amused, inter- 
 ested, and always near to Gwendolyn, — when 
 there came a rather loud knock at the door that 
 sent all my plans glimmering. 
 
 The door opened to the baron's "Come in," 
 and three men entered, the majordomo, Ambrose 
 Tibbits, and a third person, whose identity did not 
 long remain obscure. He was secretary of the 
 Aristokian Servitors' Union, and his name was 
 Michael Fogarty. He announced these impress- 
 ive facts himself in a loud, unpleasant voice, after 
 the majordomo had made a roundabout start at 
 an introduction. 
 
 The baron said, "Really," in his best manner. 
 Tibbits remained huddled near the door, looking 
 abject and miserable. 
 
 I felt that this was going to be my Marne. 
 Where the triumvirate of aristocracy had failed, 
 the triumvirate of the proletariat would succeed. 
 
 The majordomo told the baron very politely but 
 unequivocally that I had no union card and there- 
 fore could not be his Boswell ; that the explanation 
 which I had made to him was invalid because I had 
 
 142 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 in effect deprived Mr. Tibbits of his position. 
 
 The baron scowled at Tibbits. 
 
 "Tibbits is an ass, a narcotic. Boswell is a 
 genius, a stimulant." 
 
 "If yez abuse Mr. Tibbits," shouted the Irish- 
 man, "I '11 report yez to the International." 
 
 "Then I '11 abuse you instead," retorted the 
 baron. "I don't like your voice, I don't like your 
 accent, I don't like your manners, I don't like your 
 nationality." 
 
 "You say anything ag'in' the Irish — " thun- 
 dered Fogarty. 
 
 "If you resent it," quickly interposed the baron, 
 "I '11 report you to the International. You are 
 a citizen of the world, and as such are not con- 
 cerned with nationality." 
 
 The secretary of the union mumbled something 
 under his breath which sounded to me like "Oh, 
 go to hell !" 
 
 Then Tibbits came forward and whimpered 
 that none of this was of his doing. He had not 
 complained, he could never complain. The baron 
 had been more than kind to him; he had only 
 
 143 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 happened to mention to the majordomo and the 
 other servitors the cause of his dismissal, and then 
 they had taken things into their own hands. 
 
 "I did n't want to come here and bother your 
 Lordship. They made me," he whined piteously. 
 
 Mr. Michael Fogarty gave him a shove that 
 sent him reeling, and bellowed: 
 
 "You make me sick I" He turned to the baron, 
 pointing at me. "This feller 's got to go, that 's 
 all. If Tibbits is rotten, and I think he is, we '11 
 send yez around anither secretary." 
 
 The baron smiled at me. 
 
 "My dear Boswell, there is no bigger fool than 
 the man who cannot admit defeat. I am a baron 
 and an Aristokian because Mr. Michael Fogarty is 
 afraid to let me at large in the world. It seems 
 I cannot have Boswell. Well, so be it." He 
 waved his hand wearily. "Send me another 
 amanuensis." 
 
 "Give me another chance," pleaded Tibbits. 
 
 The baron looked at him. 
 
 "Give him another chance, your Lordship," I 
 said. 
 
 144 
 
Mr. Michael Fogarty gave him a shove that sent him reeH 
 
 ng 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "All right, Boswell; for your sake I will." 
 
 Tibbits became effusive, the baron bored. 
 The majordomo and Mr. Fogarty dragged the 
 driveling Tibbits from the room. 
 
 I looked at the baron. He looked at me. We 
 both smiled. 
 
 "Good-by, your Lordship," I said. 
 
 "Good-by, Boswell." 
 
 He held out his hand and gave mine a short, 
 crisp shake. I turned and left him. 
 
 I was unable to see Gwendolyn that night, but 
 several days later we met in the garden. 
 
 The difficulties that beset our meetings were 
 greatly augmented now that I was known by 
 sight to every one about the house. We were 
 together only a couple of times more, and then 
 came the end. 
 
 It was the last night of the open season, and 
 by midnight all the tourists must be out of Aris- 
 tokia. We met at moonrise, as on the first night. 
 
 What shall I say of that never-to-be-forgotten 
 last hour of hours in the garden"? What words 
 can I find to express its beauty and romanced 
 
 145 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 The old, trite phrases, nearly meaningless from 
 endless repetition, seem inadequate. 
 
 Love primordial divests us of our reason and 
 philosophy and leaves us naked before God. 
 The words we scoff at on other's lips and in our 
 sober moments become for us miraculously differ- 
 ent and dressed in new raiment. Pregnant with 
 hitherto unimagined significance, they tumble 
 from our lips, impelled by that mysterious force 
 that makes all the ages of man's time live anew 
 for every one of us in that all too fleeting moment. 
 
 And so it was that the finality of the coming 
 separation stalked us as we walked, and stood 
 sentinel to our thoughts when we sat down to 
 talk. Its shadow was all about us, and the flood- 
 gates of our emotions burst at last. We were 
 lovers, using the words that lovers have used from 
 the beginning of time and doing the things that 
 all lovers do. 
 
 Gwendolyn wept at parting, and I heard the 
 chaperon sniffle too. Suddenly there were foot- 
 steps down the path. I hid in a bush. It was 
 the baron. 
 
 146 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "What are you doing in this beastly damp gar- 
 den at this time of the night?" he asked in his 
 tired way. 
 
 "Looking at the moon, Papa," replied Gwen- 
 dolyn. 
 
 "The moon'? What's the matter with the 
 bally thing?" he asked, adjusting his monocle to 
 stare at it. 
 
 "It 's going into an eclipse," half sobbed Gwen- 
 dolyn. 
 
 "How silly!" remarked the baron as he took 
 her arm and led her up toward the house. 
 
 I crouched in the foliage. My mind was tor- 
 pid, a murky haunt for feelings without thoughts. 
 The crunching of their departing footsteps up the 
 gravel walk was mere sound without significance. 
 
 A few moments later the chaperon returned and 
 let me out. I grasped her hands in both of mine 
 and wrung them fervently. I could find no words 
 to say to her. I heard her murmur, "Ach GottT' 
 Then the little iron gate closed behind me, and I 
 stepped from a land of dreams to a world of real- 
 ities. 
 
 147 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 I RETURNED to the Hohcnzollern and 
 packed hurriedly, assisted by my valet, to 
 whom I had become accustomed. I paid my mon- 
 umental bill, tipped the army of servitors who ap- 
 peared suddenly from all directions to offer me 
 unnecessary attentions, and departed. 
 
 When I crossed the frontier it was just mid- 
 night. Had I been a second later I should have 
 been liable to arrest. I was the last tourist to 
 leave Aristokia. No one else was taking such 
 chances. 
 
 I was in Saal, the little German town where a 
 goodly proportion of the servitors and workers 
 of Aristokia lived. After leaving the bulk of my 
 luggage at the railway station, and having been 
 recommended a certain inn by the ticket agent, I 
 wandered about the quiet, moonlit streets between 
 rows of pretty little detached houses, each with its 
 well-kept lawns and garden. At the outskirts of 
 
 148 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 the town I came to the quaint old tavern, a ram- 
 shackle, sprawling low building which had been 
 built years before the rise of Prussia and the mad, 
 wild bid of Germany for world dominion. 
 
 I was shown to my room by a buxom, blonde 
 German woman. As she left me she remarked 
 that the tavern had been used as general head- 
 quarters during the Great War, and that Hinden- 
 burg had slept in the very bed in which I was about 
 to spend the night. 
 
 I lay for several sleepless hours in Hindenburg's 
 bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind and heart 
 filled with the cross-currents of many thoughts and 
 emotions. Somewhere within me was a dull ache 
 that would not be appeased. 
 
 Why had I not urged Gwendolyn to come away 
 with me? Perhaps I should have done so if the 
 baron had not appeared so suddenly and put such 
 an abrupt ending to our love-making. And yet, I 
 thought, what had I in my proletarian world to 
 offer her comparable to the glories of Aristokia? 
 
 To what a pass our world had come I How 
 fatuously men had hailed the revolution as the 
 
 149 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 coming of the millennium I Would it not all have 
 to be undone and rebuilded in a better way some 
 day? We had overthrown the tyranny of kings, 
 militarists, and capitalists, and enthroned instead 
 not humanity but a caste, a class of narrow selfish 
 workers who glorified work when truly leisure and 
 not labor should be the ultimate goal of mankind. 
 For without leisure there could be no time to 
 dream, and without dreams there could be no art 
 and no unfolding of the human spirit. 
 
 The great organized groups of workers had 
 seized the machinery of government and driven the 
 elect of past ages to the refuge of Aristokia. But 
 with the drones, the parasites, and the snobs they 
 had driven the dreamers, the thinkers, the great 
 ones whose minds were stagnating in luxury and 
 whose abilities were becoming atrophied in an 
 ambient which gave them no opportunity for 
 natural expression through conflict and struggle. 
 
 Already everywhere, particularly in my own 
 America, where the change had been most mo- 
 mentous, a new unrest was apparent, and a new 
 lower class was becoming restive under the tyr- 
 
 150 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 anny of a utilitarian and dully monotonous 
 regime. The wheels of vast machines were 
 whirling, and a stupendous materialism, with 
 unesthetic commonplaceness, was god. Some- 
 how, through the terrible hatred of classes, that 
 spiritual renaissance everywhere discernible in the 
 writings of those who had lived during the Great 
 War had been overwhelmed and lost to us. 
 
 Dreamy, moody Slavdom had pointed the way, 
 but Russia had been conquered by Germany, and 
 Anglo-Saxon trade-unionism had remolded the 
 world in her own image. The faddists, the fan- 
 atics, the coiners of catch-phrases were having 
 their little day. The world had beaten German 
 militarism only to be conquered by German ma- I 
 terialism and a German brand of socialism. 
 
 Hindenburg's bed creaked as I turned about 
 and stretched restlessly. 
 
 Germans, I thought, strange race that had in 
 successive waves since the fall of the Roman Em- 
 pire poured its prolific blood over the fields of 
 Europe, only at last to be destroyed by the Roman 
 idea. 
 
 151 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 If only the great minds of England and Amer- 
 ica had been heard above the din of battle I If 
 only those who held the power of the world in 
 their hands had been a little less blind! Why 
 had they not seen the inevitable as it thundered 
 toward them with the roar of a cosmic tidal wave? 
 Among the capitalistic governing class in England 
 and America there must have been men of imagin- 
 ation and understanding, men capable of re- 
 organizing the world with their superior intelli- 
 gence so that all would contribute to the toil of 
 mankind and all would have time to dream, to 
 look at the stars and bask in the sunlight. But 
 they had been myopic and egotistical. They had 
 thought only of keeping what was theirs to them- 
 selves. The blatant idealists had blown their tin 
 horns. The tidal wave had engulfed them all, 
 and the class with the machinery of organization 
 had emerged triumphant from the flood and en- 
 throned its ideals or, rather, its lack of them. 
 
 The baron's ancestors, for instance, what had 
 they done? Now he looked at the moon and 
 called it silly ! 
 
 152 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Oh, cool, moonlit garden I Wonderful red- 
 golden hair I Gwendolyn! Capsules I Cap- 
 sules I How quickly they multiplied and grew 
 to prodigious sizes, and tumbled and rolled as 
 I struggled about, trying to reach brown eyes I 
 Then glass crashed and the baron stared at me 
 through a monocle as large as the moon. Hin- 
 denburg's bed creaked, and I slipped into uncon- 
 sciousness. 
 
 At least I thought I did. But presently I 
 seemed to be awake again. Hindenburg was ly- 
 ing in bed beside me, muttering to himself in 
 German. He was damning the Allies tor never 
 knowing when they were beaten. He called me 
 Wilhelm and kept repeating, "Your son is an ass. 
 Sire." I agreed with him. He explained to me 
 that the war would be won in the East, and by 
 way of emphasis threw a heavy booted leg over 
 me. His spurs dug into me. 
 
 What a stupid way to go to bed! I thought. 
 Still, he was a great general, the savior of the 
 fatherland. One must overlook these little eccen- 
 tricities of genius. 
 
 153 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Then there was a frightful commotion, the 
 whirring of an air motor, quiet, then more noise, 
 voices, and a terrible banging. 
 
 "I told you those silly Zeppehn raids would 
 lead to reprisals," said Hindenburg. "They 're 
 bombing us, Sire. Jump I" 
 
 I jumped. 
 
 154 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 1 FOUND myself sitting up, tense and taut, 
 on the edge of the bed. The door had been 
 opened, and the lights were burning. Before me 
 stood the buxom German woman and a man. I 
 gave a sidelong glance at the bed. Hindenburg 
 had disappeared. 
 
 The woman apologized for startling me, and 
 explained that the gentleman, Herr Schmidt, had 
 just arrived in his airplane, that his pilot had 
 been taken ill and was unconscious. Would I 
 assist to carry him into the house *? Certainly; 
 I would put on some clothes. 
 
 I stared at Herr Schmidt, who was dressed in 
 a tight-fitting suit of tweed and a leather coat. 
 That receding face with its protruding nose and 
 scrubby blond mustache, where had I seen it be- 
 fore? The crown-prince? He had been dead 
 years. I had been dreaming. Then I knew. 
 With a sudden rush I became fully awake. It 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 was Willy Hohenzollern. What was he doing 
 out of Aristokia, masquerading as Herr Schmidt, 
 I wondered. 
 
 Willy spoke to me in English. He was very 
 sorry to trouble me, but Frieda's man (Frieda was 
 evidently the German woman) was away in town. 
 Willy could n't lift the pilot alone. He was a 
 wee bit drunk and wabbly, and the pilot was very 
 big and heavy. W^illy had a very polite little 
 jag, and I took an instantaneous fancy to him. 
 
 We carried the big fellow in ; that is, I carried, 
 and Willy assisted. Almost immediately the 
 doctor arrived. 
 
 It was altitude sickness, the doctor explained. 
 The man's heart was affected. 
 
 "Were you flying very high, Herr Schmidt?'* 
 
 Willy sobered up and looked very remorseful 
 when he answered: "Yes, rather." 
 
 The doctor assured him that the man would 
 live and would be all right after a complete rest of 
 several weeks. That relieved Herr Schmidt. 
 
 He and I adjourned to the tap-room, where he 
 insisted on treating me to drinks and supper. 
 
 156 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "You must try Frieda's cooking," he said. 
 "Frieda, Hamburger steak smothered in onions, 
 with noodles — your wonderful noodles, Frieda." 
 
 When Frieda had gone to the kitchen, Willy 
 told me that he had been quite drunk, and had 
 in a quaint moment instructed his pilot to go to 
 the moon. The man had obeyed orders to the 
 best of his ability, and had mounted higher and 
 higher. The intense cold had partly sobered 
 Willy and made him change his mind. They had 
 rushed downward madly, almost plunging head- 
 long to the ground. Willy was astounded that 
 he too had not been overcome by the sudden 
 change in the atmospheric pressure. 
 
 In an unguarded moment I remarked that one 
 so used as he to dwelling in high places would not 
 be affected. He looked at me, startled. But I 
 went on, forgetful of the fact that I was not sup- 
 posed to know who Herr Schmidt really was. 
 
 "How did you know me*?" he asked, quite 
 crestfallen. "I am in citizen's clothes. I am 
 disguised." 
 
 Disguised I With that face I I thought. 
 
 157 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "I have recently been a tourist in Aristokia,** I 
 said out loud. "Your Highness is unforgetable." 
 
 " 'Sh I" he hissed, and seized my arm. "Not 
 'your Highness' here! Call me Schmitty," he 
 said, smiling at me. 
 
 I told him that my name was Smith. He in- 
 sisted that we were brothers, and must always be 
 Schmitty and Smithie to each other. 
 
 I asked him if he was in the habit of slipping 
 out in this way and if he did n't think it was 
 rather risky. I suggested that I might report him 
 to the International. He became plaintively af- 
 fectionate. He took my hand. 
 
 "Not you, Smithie I I can see it in your eyes. 
 You are a good fellow." 
 
 I agreed, and we drank to it. The drinks were 
 from a private stock that Willy kept in the cellar 
 of the inn in order to circumvent the universal 
 prohibition law. Although the American prohi- 
 bitionists had finally succeeded in imposing their 
 ideals on the rest of mankind, the enforcement of 
 the law was very lax in those portions of central 
 Europe adjoining Aristokia. 
 
 158 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Then Frieda came in with the results of her 
 culinary efforts. They were delicious. And how 
 Willy ate, with his whole mind and soul on the 
 job I I decided then and there never to let him 
 know that I was the discoverer of the food cap- 
 sule. 
 
 As the meal progressed, Schmitty became loqua- 
 cious. He liked them plump, he said, looking 
 fatuously at Frieda, who squirmed and giggled. 
 In Aristokia when they were young they were 
 very thin, and when they grew old they got very 
 fat. The difficulty seemed to be to catch them be- 
 twixt and between. The Royal Blues were a 
 stuffy lot. They bored him. But Frieda was 
 human; I was human. The Royal Blues wanted 
 him to marry his Cousin Sophia. 
 
 "Have you seen her^" he groaned. "Some day 
 a dog will bury her in the garden, mistaking her 
 fi^r his bone." 
 
 He told me that a party headed by Baron Wig- 
 leigh wanted him to marry Gwendolyn. My 
 heart turned a somersault at mention of her 
 name. 
 
 159 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "What do you think of her*?" I asked, with 
 suppressed excitement. 
 
 "She 's beautiful, I suppose; but she has ideas 
 and brains. Women with brains annoy me." 
 
 Poor Willy I Gwendolyn evidently frightened 
 him. 
 
 "No, if I have my way, I shall marry Sophia, 
 and I will get Frieda into the palace as a nurse 
 or something, I can't do without Frieda." 
 
 Toward dawn Willy and Frieda became affec- 
 tionate, and I discreetly effaced myself, and went 
 for a stroll on the lawn in the cool morning air. 
 As I passed a window I caught a glimpse of Herr 
 Schmidt. Frieda was sitting on his lap. There 
 sat the descendant of the Hun, of the scourge of 
 Europe. To this had come the race that almost 
 conquered the world. Strange are the ways of 
 nature, I thought. 
 
 I went to bed, and slept until about noon, un- 
 molested by Hindenburg. 
 
 When I returned down-stairs I found Willy, 
 and we lunched together. He was now quite 
 sober, but very affable. It was no good trying 
 
 160 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 to remember that his grandfather had attempted 
 to get past Verdun, that his great-grandfather had 
 plunged the world into war, or that he was de- 
 scended from the dismemberer of Poland. He 
 was just a charming idiot, and I could not help 
 liking him. 
 
 He asked me my plans. Was I returning to 
 America? My plans were very hazy. I did not 
 want to go home. The thought of home and the 
 long wait for the next tourist season made some- 
 thing go numb inside me. Willy wanted to know 
 if I could fly. I told him I had driven my own 
 plane for years. 
 
 "The doctor says my pilot will be laid up for 
 at least four weeks. You know my habits, 
 Smithie, and I like you immensely. How would 
 you like to be my pilot? The pay is very good." 
 Then he added quickly. "Forgive me if the prop- 
 osition offends you." 
 
 It did not offend me. I jumped at it. 
 
 "There are certain formalities," Willy ex- 
 plained, delighted by my acceptance. "There is 
 a nuisance of a pilot's union. You must go to 
 
 161 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 town, pay your dues, and be enrolled. Later I 
 will come down and pick you out." 
 
 I put on my auto-peds and went to the union 
 at full speed. I was in an ecstasy of exultation. 
 Aristokia and Gwendolyn again I Blessed be the 
 Hohenzollerns I 
 
 As I neared the office of the union, however, 
 the thought of possible complications gave me 
 pause. I felt sure that the success of my peti- 
 tion would be seriously handicapped by my pre- 
 vious acquaintance with Mr. Michael Fogarty. I 
 must contrive to avoid that gentleman at all costs. 
 
 Fate smiled on me. The bellicose Irishman 
 was secretary of the Household Servitors' Union. 
 The Pilots' Union was an entirely different matter. 
 The two offices were not even in the same build- 
 ing. 
 
 The formalities were quickly arranged. I 
 found them mere red-tape, — just at that time 
 there was a shortage of pilots, — and in less than 
 an hour I was in possession of a coveted union 
 card and a license. 
 
 That night I flew past the frontier guards and 
 162 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 re-entered the land of romance as the chief pilot 
 of Prince William Hohenzollern, Emperor-Elect 
 of Aristokia. 
 
 Just before we landed, Willy remarked cas- 
 ually: "Don't call me Schmitty in front of 
 people, and be sure you use every one's title cor- 
 rectly. They are sticklers about such things 
 here." 
 
 "By the way, may I grow a mustache and 
 beard?" I asked him. 
 
 He was a little surprised at my strange request. 
 He smiled, then acquiesced, and patting me af- 
 fectionately on the back, he sneaked into his palace 
 by a secret entrance. The liaison door, he called 
 it. I soon discovered that all houses in Aristokia 
 were provided with these emergency exits, and 
 very useful they were, too. 
 
 163 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 AS Willy's chief pilot, I saw the inside of 
 Aristokia as no tourist could have seen it 
 in a hundred visits. I discovered, to my great 
 joy, that the Aristokians treated not only the 
 chaperons and Boswells but all servitors as if they 
 were non-existent. They discussed their most 
 intimate affairs in my presence. 
 
 I had been back in Aristokia a week without 
 having had an opportunity to see Gwendolyn or 
 communicate with her in any way. I had flown 
 over the Wigleigh mansion and grounds, but had 
 never caught a glimpse of her. I was getting 
 desperate. 
 
 Then Willy decided that it was time for a little 
 trip to Frieda. I left him with her, and flew back 
 to Aristokia to get our oilskins, which I had pur- 
 posely forgotten, although a storm had been fore- 
 cast for the following day. Knowing that I 
 
 164 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 should not be needed for at least twenty-four 
 hours, I remained in Aristokia. 
 
 At breakfast time the next morning I flew 
 over the sun-room. I had intended dropping a 
 note through the opening, but it was a rather cold 
 morning and the glass was closed over. I made 
 circles high above the room and watched the fam- 
 ily at breakfast. Gwendolyn left the table be- 
 fore mama or papa. I continued to fly about, 
 however, hoping that she might return after they 
 had left, and that in some way I might be able 
 to attract her attention; but she did not come 
 back. 
 
 I was about to give up in despair when some- 
 thing made me look toward the hangars. There 
 I saw one of the Wigleigh planes emerging and 
 recognized it as the small one that Gwendolyn 
 used. The pilot brought it to the entrance. I 
 waited. Fearing that he might be watching me, 
 I pretended to be working over my engine. 
 
 Presently she came out of the door, accom- 
 panied by her chaperon. She was going out 
 alone. My chance had come at last. I put the 
 
 i6s 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 engine out of commission and volplaned down to 
 rest beside her machine. 
 
 Stepping up to her pilot, I explained my fic- 
 titious trouble and asked for certain tools. When 
 I removed my headgear, Gwendolyn emitted a 
 little cry. The chaperon's quick warning checked 
 her, and regaining her self-possession, she directed 
 the man to go to the hangar for what I needed. 
 
 "Jack, you darling I You have come back to 
 me I" Her eyes were moist and sparkling, and 
 in my heart there was a wild tumult. 
 
 I told her briefly of my strange meeting with 
 Willy. How she laughed I 
 
 Then, as the man reappeared, she said, "Come 
 to the garden to-night." 
 
 She flew away immediately. I fooled a bit 
 with the engine, as a precaution in case any one 
 had observed me, and then, after replacing the 
 tools in the hangar, went my way. 
 
 The stonn arrived that night on schedule time. 
 The wind howled and moaned through the trees, 
 lashing the cold rain, which fell in sheets, into 
 fine spray. 
 
 166 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 The garden was dark and filled with the sound 
 of dripping foliage. The soggy earth was cov- 
 ered with a slippery carpet of fallen leaves. 
 Gwendolyn and I clung to each other in the dark 
 and exchanged cold, wet kisses. Water dripped 
 off her lovely hair and ran down my neck in chilly 
 little rivulets. She shivered. I held her close, 
 and water oozed out of our clothes as from a 
 sponge. But we did not care. We would have 
 stood there hours unmindful of the elements, 
 aware only of our love, hearing only each other's 
 heart-beats. But the chaperon reminded us that 
 papa and mama were at home and that on such 
 a night there could be no excuse for Gwendolyn 
 to be out in the garden. 
 
 We made hurried plans for future meetings. 
 We arranged that in so far as my duties as Willy's 
 pilot would permit, I was to fly over the sun-room 
 at a certain time each day. Gwendolyn would 
 contrive to be there, and we would then exchange 
 signals as to whether we could meet in the garden 
 that night. 
 
 During the ensuing weeks we spent many bliss- 
 167 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ful hours together. Never once in the half-dozen 
 meetings did we speak or even think of the future. 
 We lived in the glamour of an exquisite present, 
 enjoying its sweets with the unquestioning sim- 
 plicity of children. 
 
 Then one day Willy informed me that his pilot 
 was well again, and that he felt in duty bound 
 to take the man back into his service. He hated 
 to part with me, and would miss me, but no doubt 
 I was desirous of returning to America. He 
 handed me a che^k at parting. It was a little 
 present, he said, a bonus for my faithful services. 
 I did n't want to accept it. 
 
 "Please take it," he urged. "You have a right 
 to it, I assure you." 
 
 I glanced at it, and then felt no further com- 
 punction. Photographed on my mind's eye was 
 an imperial edict, first brought to my attention 
 by two over-sensitive bell-boys. The check was 
 a dividend Willy had just received from the Im- 
 perial Aristokian Tipping Monopoly, Inc. 
 
 That evening I told Gwendolyn that I must 
 leave Aristokia and begged her to fly with me. 
 
 168 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 She had other plans. She was dissatisfied with 
 her pilot, — she would engage me in his place. I 
 consented. My beard was by this time a luxuri- 
 ant growth. In my flying-togs, with close-fit- 
 ting headgear and goggles, I was unrecognizable. 
 And I should not often come in contact with any 
 of the household. Besides, I was no longer a 
 tourist but a duly enrolled servitor under the 
 segis of the Pilots' Union. I felt reasonably 
 safe. It would be time enough to take Gwen- 
 dolyn away with me when our affair was discov- 
 ered, which I felt was an inevitable eventuality. 
 Sooner or later we should grow careless and be 
 caught. Then there would be fireworks and a 
 hasty exit. Our surreptitious meetings appealed 
 to my sense of adventure, and though I did not 
 realize it at the time, the atmosphere of Aris- 
 tokia was a narcotic which had dulled the edge 
 of my ambitions and sent my youthful dreams 
 into the limbo of forgotten things. 
 
 Before I could enter Gwendolyn's service, it 
 was necessary that I be formally interviewed by 
 the baron. Although my beard had greatly 
 
 169 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 changed my appearance, and I knew that the 
 baron's attitude to a person of my class would be 
 quaintly indifferent, it was not without many 
 qualms that I knocked at the door of his study 
 one morning at about ten o'clock. He was seated 
 at his desk, toying with some papers. I breathed 
 a sigh of relief when I found that the officious 
 Ambrose Tibbits was not present. 
 
 I stood for several minutes, and he said no 
 word. Becoming very restless, I coughed. He 
 looked up. 
 
 "Have you a cold*?" he remarked casually. 
 
 "No, your Lordship." 
 
 "Then don't cough. It 's so beastly mislead- 
 ing." 
 
 He returned his stare to his papers. I was un- 
 recognized. 
 
 "I 'm the new pilot," I ventured. 
 
 "Oh, yes. Can you fly?" 
 
 "Expertly, your Lordship." 
 
 "Expertly, — m'm. Think of that I It's al- 
 ways struck me as being rather a bore. You have 
 
 170 
 
"Would _\uur lordship care to see 
 
 nu rctiTenci,- 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 to keep your mind en the bally thing, don't you*? 
 I tried it once." 
 
 "Would your Lordship care to see my refer- 
 ence?" I inquired, drawing the letter from Willy 
 out of my pocket and handing it to him. He 
 glanced over it. 
 
 "His Highness is enthusiastic," he remarked, 
 and added, "I sha'n't hold that against you, my 
 man." He gave the letter back to me. "You 
 don't drop your h's, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, no, your Lordship," 
 
 "That 's rather unfortunate. The best serv- 
 itors always do. However, I suppose it is n't a 
 really necessary accomplishment for a pilot — " 
 
 "Is everything satisfactory then, your Lord- 
 ship?" 
 
 "When you say everything^ I presume you re- 
 fer to yourself." 
 
 I nearly smiled. This characteristic utterance 
 carried me back to the day I had been his Bos- 
 well. 
 
 "Yes, your Lordship." 
 171 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 ''Commendable egotism," he drawled. 
 
 I thought the interview was over. I started to 
 bow myself out when the baron arose, came 
 around the desk, adjusted his monocle, and stared 
 at me. 
 
 "Where have I seen you before?" 
 
 "Driving Prince Wilhelm's plane, your Lord- 
 ship," I replied quickly. 
 
 "No; you are vaguely associated in my mind 
 with some unpleasant disturbance." 
 
 Good Lord I Was he going to remember the 
 ground glass in his coffee, of all things? I must 
 have needed a shave the morning of my memorable 
 plunge. He shook his head. 
 
 "You are strangely reminiscent to me; but, 
 then, all you Smiths look alike." He waved his 
 hand with his typical weary gesture to signify 
 that the interview was at an end. Then it was 
 that I made a fatal blunder. I should have re- 
 mained silent. Instead, I spoke. 
 
 "Good-by, your Lordship." 
 
 Once before I had used these words to the baron, 
 and the sound of my voice must have awakened 
 
 172 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 memories; for he started, and adjusted his monocle 
 more securely. 
 
 "That voice!" he murmured, then called me 
 back into the room. He looked at me with a 
 kindly twinkle in his eye. 
 
 "Is n't your name Bos well?" he asked me. 
 
 For an instant I had a mad impulse to say 
 yes, but my native caution overcame my senti- 
 ment and I answered: 
 
 "No, Smith, your Lordship; John Smith." 
 
 "Ah, yes, Smith; not Boswell. Too bad. I 
 like the name Boswell." 
 
 I could n't look him in the eyes again, so I 
 slipped out quietly and closed the door. 
 
 173 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 A FEW days later the baron achieved the pre- 
 liminary step in the realization of his great 
 ambition. 
 
 Under pressure from the learned men of science 
 the Royal Blues surrendered, and agreed to the 
 betrothal of Lady Gwendolyn to the emperor- 
 elect, Prince Wilhelm, for the good of the country 
 and for the enrichment of the glorious Hohen- 
 zollern blood. 
 
 The event was celebrated by a grand function 
 at Wigleigh Hall. The baron and his wife 
 fairly oozed triumph. They patronized every- 
 body. The wedding was to take place imme- 
 diately following Willy's coronation, which was 
 a month distant. 
 
 During the ball Schmitty slipped out on the 
 terrace to smoke a cigarette in solitude. I ran 
 into him, and he seized my arm and poured out 
 
 174 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 his heart-ache. I had had an opportunity to study 
 Gwendolyn, acting as her pilot, he said. What 
 did I think of her^ She was terribly Anglo- 
 Saxon, wasn't she^ She would never consent 
 to his relations with Frieda. He would be hor- 
 ribly henpecked ; he knew it. She was an Amazon. 
 I laughed inwardly at this conception of my little 
 Gwendolyn. I tried to comfort poor Willy. I 
 assured him that all would be well; for I was 
 secretly determined that just before the ceremony 
 the bride-elect should mysteriously disappear. 
 
 There were other forces at work regarding 
 which I was at the time only vaguely cognizant. 
 If I had not been so utterly in love with Gwen- 
 dolyn and had studied Aristokian politics a bit, 
 I should have observed that there was an oppo- 
 sition to the Royal Blues, and that the permanent 
 leader of the opposition was Prince Juan do 
 Braganza. 
 
 Don Juan, as he was generally called, had a 
 tremendous following. Such was his magnetism 
 that even the army of wronged husbands of his 
 own making were numbered among his stanchest 
 
 175 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 adherents. It was said in Aristokia that Juan 
 could take away your wife and make you thank 
 him for it, he did it so graciously. 
 
 There is no doubt that Prince do Braganza 
 would have made an exceedingly popular em- 
 peror. Unfortunately, a Russian ballet-dancer 
 had become entangled in the upper branches of his 
 family tree. This little incident in the senti- 
 mental career of one of his ancestors rendered 
 him ineligible for the imperial office. 
 
 This limitation to his ambitions was a thorn 
 in the side of Juan. For many years he had 
 been waging a fruitless campaign to induce the 
 obdurate Royal Blues to overlook the dash of the 
 terpsichorean in his blood. They realized that 
 to alter the law would be to end the supremacy 
 of the Teutonic princes. 
 
 Juan was not merely an exquisite, though he 
 was that par excellence. He was also a warm- 
 blooded Latin, a fire-eater, quick-witted and 
 brilliant, but inordinately vain, excessively digni- 
 fied, and totally lacking in a sense of humor. 
 He loathed the Germans not merely because they 
 
 176 
 
He seized my arm and poured out his heart-ache 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 blocked his ambitions but because he could not 
 understand them. Poor Willy he called "the 
 Fish." 
 
 When the Royal Blues decided that Willy 
 should marry Gwendolyn, Juan raised a storm of 
 protest. To appease him they created the new 
 title of Marshal of Aristokia, which they con- 
 ferred on him. With the title went privileges 
 and powers second only to those of the emperor. 
 
 It was not customary in Aristokia for an en- 
 gaged girl to be seen in public with any man 
 other than her fiance. Juan had been showing 
 marked attention to Gwendolyn and he con- 
 tinued to do so despite her betrothal to Willy. 
 He claimed this as one of the prerogatives of 
 Marshal of Aristokia. 
 
 It then became my painful duty to take Juan 
 and Gwendolyn for long flights in her airplane. 
 In order to hear what they were saying I would 
 fly to a great height, shut off the engine, and soar 
 about. 
 
 One day Juan calmly informed her that he 
 was tired of breaking up homes and winning 
 
 177 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 duels; that he intended to settle down and get 
 married, and that it was Gwendolyn whom he 
 intended to marry. I waited breathlessly to 
 hear what she would say. 
 
 "Juan, I '11 marry you," — I almost upset the 
 plane, — "the day you become Emperor of 
 Aristokia." 
 
 "Is that a bargain'?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "On my word of honor," replied Gwendolyn. 
 "Smith!" 
 
 "Yes, your Ladyship^" I managed to 
 say. 
 
 "You hear that? You are the witness." 
 
 "Yes, your Ladyship." 
 
 What the devil was the inscrutable Gwen- 
 dolyn up to, I wondered. After we left Juan 
 at his palace, I asked her if she was trying to 
 make me jealous. She looked at me roguishly 
 and laughed. 
 
 "I 'm going to become Empress of Aristokia." 
 
 "By marrying Juan? You can do that by 
 marrj'ing Willy." Of the two, I much preferred 
 Willy. 
 
 178 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "No, I mean empress in my own right, with 
 you as my consort," she added. 
 
 "You 're mad, Gwendolyn. It 's impos- 
 sible." 
 
 "Nothing is impossible," she said with utter 
 conviction. 
 
 She made me promise to help her. li Gwen- 
 dolyn had said, "Get me the moon," I would 
 have tried. 
 
 As the first step in her plans she sent me to 
 see Prince Juan, to put myself at his disposal, 
 and to tell him all I knew about Willy's secret 
 conduct. 
 
 Gwendolyn had previously informed Juan 
 that Boswell and I were one and the same person. 
 She explained my strange actions and my pres- 
 ence in her house with a marvelous lie, which 
 Juan, ordinarily the most skeptical of men, 
 swallowed whole because Gwendolyn had told it 
 to him. In life there is always some one person 
 whom even the most confirmed doubting Thomas 
 trusts, and usually it is this one who betrays him. 
 Gwendolyn's story had it that I was a super-spy 
 
 179 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 engaged by her to gather information detrimental 
 to the prestige of individual Royal Blues. 
 
 So it was in this role that I went to see Prince 
 Juan and told him about Willy and Frieda, feel- 
 ing like a traitor the while. 
 
 On my arrival at the Braganza Palace I was 
 ushered into the prince's study, an exquisite room, 
 just then filled with books, pell-mell all over the 
 place. While I waited for the prince, — he was 
 in his dressing-room making his tenth change of 
 uniform that day, — I looked at the books. "The 
 Life of Napoleon," "Napoleon the Third," 
 "Napoleon the Little," "The History of a 
 Crime," "The Russian Revolution," "The Portu- 
 guese Revolt," "The Coup d'Etat in France" — 
 these were a few of the titles. It was easy to 
 gather their significance. Juan was planning a 
 bloodless revolt, a coup d'etat. 
 
 He came in dressed in a soft gray uniform, his 
 study uniform, he explained to me. Its tones 
 were an aid to thought. He made me sit down 
 and offered me a cigarette. He was cordial and 
 charming. He smilingly recalled our previous 
 
 180 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 meeting when I had been Boswell, and com- 
 mented tolerantly on the baron's eccentricities. 
 He admired and eulogized my disguise, advising 
 that the baron must never know that I was Bos- 
 well. I agreed with him, as the baron was not a 
 party to the conspiracy and, moreover, wanted 
 Gwendolyn to marry Willy. The mere mention 
 of this matter sent Juan into a tirade of fine irony. 
 
 Suddenly he looked at me. 
 
 "Do you know. Smith, I suspected you of being 
 a vulgar tourist in love with Lady Gwendolyn." 
 
 He laughed, and showed even white teeth. I 
 laughed, too. It was a good joke. 
 
 He outlined his plans to me. The technic of 
 the thing was absurdly simple. One merely 
 eliminated all the opposing elements at the 
 psychological moment, and then was acclaimed 
 emperor by the balance of the people, who were 
 favorable and who had been duly rehearsed in 
 their spontaneous demands. 
 
 On the eve of Willy's coronation I was to in- 
 duce him to pay Frieda a farewell visit. She 
 was to give him an overdose of garlic, onions, 
 
 181 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 and sauerkraut and make him miss his appoint- 
 ment with his crown. That much was easy. 
 
 "But what about the Royal Blues?" I asked 
 the prince. 
 
 His plans for them were delightful. He told 
 me that Princes Romanoff and Bonaparte, both 
 Royal Blues, were with us, Romanoff for purely 
 personal reasons. The Hohenzollerns and the 
 Hapsburgs mutually controlled the Royal Blues, 
 and they had consistently elected members of 
 their own families to the throne and kept the 
 Romanoffs out. Nicholas as the head of that 
 family resented this and was determined on re- 
 venge. Bonaparte found a coup d'etat an ir- 
 resistible temptation on its own merits or demerits. 
 Had not his illustrious ancestors all but invented 
 the art? He was willing to concede the lead- 
 ing part in the impending drama to Juan because 
 he knew that Braganza's tremendous popularity 
 insured the success of a scheme which would un- 
 horse the Germans, whom the Frenchmen loathed 
 whole-heartedly. 
 
 182 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Prince Romanoff was to give a party exclu- 
 sively for Royal Blues. It was to be a stag af- 
 fair in the "Babylonian District," as a certain 
 part of the city was called. The queen of the 
 district at that time was a French woman whose 
 pseudonym was "The Lily." The Lily was 
 desperately in love with Juan. She would die 
 for him, "many terrible deaths," she had said. 
 So the Lily was to be enlisted as special hostess 
 for the occasion. It was to be a hal masque^ 
 which all the Royal Blues would attend and re- 
 garding which they would be very circumspect in 
 the matter of publicity. Once they were there, 
 it would be merely a matter of keys and guards 
 to hold them. 
 
 Of the remaining elements the vast majority 
 was overwhelmingly for Juan; for each man in 
 the country realized that if Juan could become 
 emperor, it would establish a precedent and let 
 down barriers, so that he, too, might achieve the 
 great ofRce. 
 
 On the morning of the great day the entire 
 
 183 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 city was to be placarded with notices signed by 
 the marshal, informing the public that by leaving 
 the country Willy had abdicated his rights to the 
 throne, and that the Royal Blues had disgraced 
 themselves and the nation by their orgies, for the 
 good people were to be told, with glowing details, 
 of this escapade. The army was to assemble in 
 the great square of the palace. Juan was to re- 
 view them ; that was a part of the regular corona- 
 tion ceremony. At a given signal from Prince 
 Bonaparte, the ranking royalty and only Royal 
 Blue present, they were to go wild with en- 
 thusiasm and acclaim Juan the emperor. Napo- 
 leon would point out that, according to the im- 
 perial by-laws, on this day and at this hour a 
 ruler must be elected; the clergy and the women 
 would be appealed to on ethical grounds to de- 
 nounce the flagrant immoralities of the absent 
 Royal Blues. Juan would then take the crown 
 from the paralyzed archbishop in truly Na- 
 poleonic manner, the master of ceremonies would 
 kiss him on the cheek, and he would be emperor! 
 Could anything have been simpler? 
 
 184 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 To my amazement the coup d'etat ran like a 
 
 well-oiled machine, without a groan or a creak. 
 
 There was only one hitch, but that hitch is the 
 crux of my story. 
 
 185 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE Lily of the Babylonian District had a 
 key to Juan's liaison door, which was 
 located on the roof of his house and led by a 
 spiral staircase directly into his bedroom. 
 
 I got the key from the Lily. I gave it to 
 Gwendolyn. And thereby hangs the tale. 
 
 Juan had placed me in charge of all the menials 
 of his establishment. When he had retired for 
 the night on the eve of the great day, I marshaled 
 them together and sent them all off on various 
 futile errands. 
 
 Juan himself laid out his coronation uniform 
 with meticulous care, and then disrobed slowly, 
 his mind obsessed with the glories of the morrow. 
 He donned his old-fashioned, cutaway nightgown 
 in which he always slept, and in which he was not 
 a thing of beauty. He was standing thus attired 
 when suddenly Gwendolyn appeared before him. 
 She had entered by the liaison door. 
 
 186 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "Gwendolyn!" he cried, "what arc you doing 
 here?" He clutched a military cape wildly and 
 draped it over himself. "Where 's your chap- 
 eron?" he went on frantically. 
 
 Gwendolyn sat down in an easy-chair with the 
 nonchalance of one making an afternoon call. 
 
 "How funny you look, Juan I" He grabbed 
 the exquisite coat of his wondrous coronation uni- 
 form and, sinking into a chair, flung it over his 
 ciliated limbs. 
 
 "Where is your chaperon?" he repeated. 
 
 "You know that big elm up on the hill?" she 
 asked, watching him with intense amusement. 
 "Well, I was flying very low. Fraulein got 
 caught in the branches. She 's probably climbed 
 down by now. Don't worry about her, Juan. 
 She 's an agile little creature." 
 
 "I don't give a damn about her I It's you 
 I 'm thinking of. Do you realize what you have 
 done?" 
 
 Gwendolyn ignored him and continued 
 sweetly: "Some day after we are married I will 
 have Fraulein climb for you, Juan dear." 
 
 187 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "I don't want to see her climb, and we shall 
 never be married." He was petulant. 
 
 Gwendolyn rose and clutched her bosom with 
 a dramatic gesture. 
 
 "Juan, not marry me I What are you say- 
 ing?" 
 
 He held his head in his hands and rocked it 
 sidewise. 
 
 "Ah, queridisima^ I loved you so I Why have 
 you done this terrible thing? You have spoilt 
 my glorious day for me I Ah, frailty, thy name 
 is woman! Could you not have waited twenty- 
 four little hours? To-morrow we were to have 
 been married. My charms are a curse I I am so 
 irresistible I But I had thought that you^ you at 
 least — oh, queridisimal queridisima!'" 
 
 Gwendolyn threw back her head and 
 laughed. 
 
 "Don't laugh, Madame I" he exclaimed tragic- 
 ally, jumping up in outraged dignity, forgetting 
 his bare legs and his beautiful coat, which lay 
 rumpled at his feet. "Don't laugh I Do you 
 realize what you are?" 
 
 188 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "What am I, Juan*?" she asked with unalloyed 
 wonder and innocence. 
 
 "You have come to my rooms at midnight, un- 
 chaperoned. In the eyes of the world you are a 
 fallen woman." 
 
 "But the world need never know, Juan." 
 
 "Ah, but it will know," he persisted. "It has 
 some subtle way of always finding out these 
 things. How can an emperor marry you now'? 
 Madame, you are ruined!" 
 
 "But, Juan dear, you know I 'm not ruined. 
 You will tell them," she said softly, "and they 
 will believe an emperor^ 
 
 Juan staggered. He nearly fainted. 
 
 "What you ask me is too much, too much I I 
 would willingly die for you, queridisima^ but not 
 that!" 
 
 "But why not, Juan*?" she argued. 
 
 "No, no," he said, with the emphasis of a man 
 putting away a frightful temptation to commit 
 some dishonorable act, "it cannot be. If you are 
 in my rooms and escape unharmed, what is to be- 
 come of my reputation^ /, the Don Juan, the 
 
 189 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 gay Lothario — I should be the laughing-stock of 
 Aristokia. There are some things that a man of 
 honor, and a gentleman, that a great prince, can- 
 not do even for the woman he loves. What you 
 ask is impossible." 
 
 There followed a weighty pause. 
 
 Gwendolyn then gave a perfectly good imita- 
 tion of a woman who has fainted. This new 
 development caused Juan abject discomfiture. 
 He took one of her limp hands in his and patted 
 it helplessly. 
 
 She half opened one eye. 
 
 "Water I" she murmured. 
 
 Juan went to the bath-room to get some. The 
 moment his back was turned, Gwendolyn sprang 
 up, and leaping stealthily, closed the door and 
 locked it. Juan was a prisoner in his own bath- 
 room. 
 
 Then she came to the foot of the spiral stair- 
 case and called me down into the room. 
 
 When Juan found himself locked in he pleaded 
 with Gwendolyn, then he called loudly. He 
 shouted, and pounded the door. He tried to 
 
 190 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 break it down, but it was too well built. He 
 called Gwendolyn every name under the sun, and 
 when he had exhausted all the possibilities of 
 English, he lapsed into the more expressive 
 Portuguese, in which he swore vociferously — 
 beautiful, succulent oaths, richly blooming with 
 luscious vowels, and thunderously reverberant 
 oaths filled with thorny r's. Then he hissed a 
 pell-mell of s's and z's. Like a waterfall they 
 came, toppling over one another. It was a great 
 performance. 
 
 Meanwhile Gwendolyn and I went about 
 silently, carefully and methodically collecting 
 certain things. We bundled our stolen goods to- 
 gether and flew away. 
 
 But long before we left the fury of the storm 
 in the bath-room had subsided, and only an occa- 
 sional, distant, muttering rumble broke the silence 
 of exhaustion. 
 
 Toward dawn, at the risk of his life, Juan 
 climbed out of the bath-room window, and, grop- 
 ing his way along the narrow cornice, entered his 
 bedroom by smashing a pane of glass. 
 
 191 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Rage had given place, through the long vigil 
 of the night, to a quiet determination to beat this 
 counter-conspiracy, whatever it might be. Noth- 
 ing could stop him from being emperor, he told 
 himself. 
 
 He began to dress with all his accustomed care. 
 When he was ready to put on his trousers he 
 could not hnd them. His whole coronation uni- 
 form had disappeared. So that was the plot — to 
 deprive him of the pleasure of wearing his beauti- 
 ful, artistic creation on which a genius had 
 labored for a month I It was a petty revenge, 
 just like a woman. Though he was chagrined, 
 he could rise above such things. Distasteful as 
 it was to him, he could wear one of his other uni- 
 forms. 
 
 He got out the coat of the uniform he had worn 
 to the ball at the Wigleighs. The trousers were 
 missing. He swore softly. He got out the coat 
 of another and another and another, and always 
 the trousers were missing. He pulled out the 
 coats of his ninety-nine uniforms, but we had 
 done our work well. Every pair of trousers was 
 
 192 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 gone. Juan became frantic. He began to rave 
 like a maniac. He pulled things about in cha- 
 otic confusion in his frenzied quest for trou- 
 sers. 
 
 After an hour of vain searching the will to con- 
 quer was still dominant. He would borrow a 
 pair of trousers from one of the servants. 
 Mother of Heaven, that he should come to this! 
 But he would do it. During a noble reign he 
 could perhaps live it down. 
 
 There were no servants. The house was 
 empty, and nowhere could he hnd a pair of 
 trousers. A terrible fear seized him. He tried 
 the wireless to get into communication with his 
 followers, but I had it put out of commission be- 
 fore leaving. 
 
 "God of my fathers, incommunicado and 
 trouserless !" he cried in anguish. His fear and 
 sense of defeat settled on him in a black shroud 
 of dull despair. 
 
 Ten thousand curses on tne family tradition 
 that had made him adhere to the wearing of 
 nightgowns I He could at least have gone in 
 
 193 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 pajamas. But how could he^ the best-dressed 
 man in Aristokia, attend his coronation in under- 
 wear I He had been most foully betrayed. It 
 was the end of his glorious career. A man with- 
 out trousers is a man undone. 
 
 Then self-pity seized him, and he sat, an abject 
 figure in flannel underwear, and sobbed. 
 
 Meanwhile Juan's coup d'etat was running its 
 appointed course with the immutability of the 
 stars in their orbits. 
 
 The army assembled in the great square of the 
 palace, but instead of Juan to review them, there 
 appeared in the full regalia of his coronation uni- 
 form a radiant creature with hair of tarnished 
 gold. 
 
 As she sprang lightly and gracefully to the 
 coronation platform, her every movement pro- 
 claiming the glory of her freedom and emancipa- 
 tion from petticoats, the buzz of fifty thousand 
 voices died away like the murmur of a breeze, 
 and an intense, expectant silence fell upon the 
 great square. 
 
 She spoke in clear, ringing tones. Like crys- 
 194 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 tallized sound her words fell on the cars of the 
 multitude. 
 
 "My Lords and Ladies of Aristokia, Prince 
 Wilhelm has by his absence at this august 
 moment abdicated his right to the imperial throne. 
 The Royal Blues are debauching with scarlet 
 women. Prince Juan do Braganza cannot come 
 to you. Some one with a knowledge of his 
 limitations has robbed him of his trousers. 
 Mere man that he is, he dare not appear before 
 you without them. Mere woman that I am, I 
 have dared to come to you in them. Judge, oh, 
 great people, if I am not more qualified than he 
 to reign over you I" 
 
 A thrilling pause, and then the tumult broke. 
 Prince Louis Napoleon Bonaparte had given the 
 signal. From the throats of ten thousand gen- 
 erals, colonels, captains, and a very few young 
 lieutenants a mighty roar arose. Even the rented 
 privates joined in the shouting. The army of 
 Aristokia acclaimed Gwendolyn empress. Some- 
 where within each man there stirred the primor- 
 dial desire to be ruled by a woman. 
 
 195 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Bonaparte was as surprised as any one at the 
 outcome of his coup d'etat^ but the change in lead- 
 ing characters greatly pleased him. A gallant 
 gentleman, and a Frenchman, he could not refuse 
 a woman anything she asked. And besides, now 
 that Juan's goose was cooked, Napoleon had a 
 vision of himself as Emperor of Aristokia by mar- 
 riage. He was not alone in possession of such 
 illusions. As each man in the great square gazed 
 at Gwendolyn's loveliness, he saw himself at 
 least the favorite of her court. A wondrous 
 dream of love and power unfolded to each one, 
 as he mingled his voice with his fellows' in lusty 
 cheering. 
 
 All about the great plaza, among the civilian 
 population, there were little eddies and whirl- 
 pools of confusion and dismay, as shocked and 
 outraged dowagers fainted and plopped their 
 stout persons into the arms of the nearest males. 
 One of the first to pass out was Mama Wigleigh. 
 The baron dropped his monocle for the first time 
 in many years and muttered, "Good God I" with 
 a semblance of real emotion. 
 
 196 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Events were moving rapidly. Gwendolyn 
 snatched the imperial crown from the archbishop, 
 who had been gazing at her fondly. The man of 
 God trembled, and muttered a hurried prayer for 
 the salvation of his soul. 
 
 The senile and doddering master of ceremonies 
 kissed her lingeringly on each cheek as forty years 
 melted from him. And the thing was done I 
 The coup d'etat had become a fait accompli. 
 Gwendolyn was Empress of Aristokial 
 
 197 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE first act of the new monarch was to 
 abrogate the exclusive powers of the Royal 
 Blues and to constitute a few faithful followers 
 her sole advisers. I was admitted to citizenship 
 in Aristokia, and then in the course of a single 
 hour became successively, Sir John Smith Bart., 
 Baron Smith, Viscount Smith, Earl of Capsula, 
 Marquis of Capsula, Duke of Capsula, and finally 
 Prince John. This tedious procedure was neces- 
 sary, as, according to the imperial by-laws, titles 
 could be conferred only one degree at a time. 
 Fortunately the by-laws had neglected to men- 
 tion anything about a lapse of time between 
 grades, so we did it as quickly as we could. 
 Baron Wigleigh and his wife were made Grand 
 Duke and Grand Duchess of Wigleigh, as be- 
 came the parents of an empress. 
 
 That night at the great coronation ball in the 
 imperial palace Gwendolyn announced that 
 
 198 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Prince John was to be her consort. To my utter 
 amazement, they swallowed me, an ex-Smith, an 
 ex-pilot, an ex-plebeian, an ex-Nobody, without a 
 murmur. It proved what I have always con- 
 tended, that in the first days after a ruler's as- 
 sumption of office he can get away with any- 
 thing. 
 
 Gwendolyn had exchanged the uniform for an 
 alluring gown. She was the incarnation of 
 delectable femininity. The men vied with one 
 another in their expressions of loyalty and admir- 
 ation. The women accepted the inevitable as 
 graciously as possible, for they feared her. Even 
 the once all-powerful Royal Blues came and 
 knelt at her feet and asked forgiveness for their 
 misdeeds, for Prince Romanoff had made their 
 acceptance of the new order the sine qua non of 
 their release. 
 
 Juan did not appear. He was under a physi- 
 cian's care. He had been found wandering about 
 in his underwear, one side of his, face badly 
 scorched. He had tried to commit suicide, for- 
 getting in the excitement of the moment that the 
 
 199 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 International permitted only blank cartridges in 
 Aristokia. 
 
 He sent Gwendolyn this note: 
 
 Madame, I humbly salute the great office Your Majesty 
 holds, but we Braganzas never forget. 
 
 When every one had left, and the royal family 
 was alone, — that is to say, mama, papa, Gwen- 
 dolyn, and I, — we had a quiet celebration to our- 
 selves. 
 
 The baron and his wife had quickly recovered 
 from their first shock, and were now basking in 
 the warmth of their reflected honors. During 
 the ball the baron, or, rather, the grand duke, 
 had barely grunted a greeting to any one below 
 the rank of prince. But now he slapped me on 
 the back and treated me with effusive cordiality. 
 
 Although I had shaved my beard, he seemed 
 not to recognize me. He called me "your High- 
 ness," and told me his pet hobby was heraldry, 
 and suggested that if I would do him the honor, 
 he would be glad to help me choose an ap- 
 propriate coat of arms. 
 
 200 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 "I'm so glad you followed my suggestion and 
 took Capsuia as your family name," he said. 'It 
 will enable us to create a most interesting coat of 
 arms. Every good coat of arms, ancient or 
 modern, is based on the thing which brought the 
 family prominence and elevated it to the peerage. 
 All the devices you see in heraldry are symbols 
 of some service performed by the owner of the 
 device for the sovereign. The more elatf rate 
 coats of arms, if you can translate their insignia, 
 become veritable graphic histories of the families 
 that use them." 
 
 Papa was warming to his pet subject. He 
 fixed his monocle in his characteristic way, ig- 
 nored his wife's intimation that they should leave, 
 and proceeded: 
 
 "If we wish to keep the spirit of the thing, it 
 would be absurd for us of the newer nobility to 
 adopt lions, eagles, battle-axes, griffins, gauntlets, 
 and all such medieval paraphernalia. Our coats 
 of arms should be created in the same fashion as 
 was the older heraldry. I suggest for your 
 Royal Highness a large gold capsule, rampant 
 
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ARISTOKIA 
 
 on a field of azure. Blue is spaciousness — the 
 world. Gold, wealth. The capsule could be 
 divided into little sections, each containing some 
 smaller symbol representing strength, health, 
 and life. Then you should have a motto. It 
 should be in some foreign language which you 
 don't understand." 
 
 "I don't understand any," I said. "You have 
 the field to choose from." 
 
 "I think Spanish is as silly-sounding as any of 
 them," remarked the baron, "and the Marl- 
 boroughs have a Spanish motto. 'De mal gusto, 
 pero comestible,' would look well." 
 
 "What does it mean^" I asked. 
 
 "It is truthful," he said, with an odd twinkle 
 in his eyes. "And the fact that you chose it for 
 your motto will add to your fame wherever cap- 
 sules are used." 
 
 I suspected that the baron was spoofing me 
 with this cryptic reply. I secured a translation, 
 and then I knew it; for this was my motto, "Of 
 bad taste, but edible." 
 
 As I talked with the baron I became convinced 
 202 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 that he did not remember me, and as he said good 
 night to me almost with affection and with a trace 
 of the father-in-law-to-be in his manner, I could 
 not help musing on the extraordinary vagaries of 
 his mind. 
 
 In the doorway he stood aside a moment while 
 a blissfully bewildered grand duchess endangered 
 her equilibrium by a farewell curtsy to her em- 
 press daughter. The baron (I cannot think of 
 him as the grand duke) bowed low, and then, 
 returning to an upright posture, a look almost of 
 boyish amusement on his face, said, "The greatest 
 honor of my life will always be that your Royal 
 Highness was once my Boswelll" 
 
 Two flunkies drew the great tapestried portieres 
 and departed. Gwendolyn and I were alone at 
 last except for the three imperial chaperons, for 
 we were not yet married. 
 
 She was exultant with victory. I tried as 
 tactfully as I could to point out to her that it 
 could not last. Juan would be revenged. Even 
 Bonaparte and Romanoff, friendly as they 
 
 203 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 seemed, might not long remain so. She had 
 shown the way. From then on there would be 
 a succession of revolutions in Aristokia. Gwen- 
 dolyn denied it vehemently. Every one adored 
 her. She insisted that she could handle Juan and 
 the others. 
 
 "I believe you can hold them indefinitely, 
 Gwendolyn, if you remain a virgin queen," I said; 
 "but not if you marry me. You must choose 
 between empire and love. You cannot have 
 both. No one has ever had both." 
 
 "But I can't live without you," she said, draw- 
 ing me close to her. 
 
 "Then you must give this up," I replied, gently 
 withdrawing from her embrace. I wanted to 
 keep my senses if I could. "Come away with me, 
 darling, to America," I pleaded. "There are 
 greater victories awaiting us there, perhaps not so 
 spectacular, but bigger, deeper, more lasting." 
 
 Those last few days of intense activity had re- 
 kindled my slumbering ambitions. I was fired 
 with new hope, courage, and determination. I 
 
 204 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 had learned a great lesson in Aristokia, and I was 
 eager to apply it in the world beyond. 
 
 For more than an hour I pleaded with Gwen- 
 dolyn to go with me and help me to right the 
 wrongs of humanity; to give her great inspiration 
 to my life work, to undo the bungling mistakes of 
 the would-be reformers of the early twentieth 
 century. But her mind and heart were fixed on 
 golden days in Aristokia. 
 
 I said good night and left, pretending to sub- 
 mit to her will. I had decided on action. 
 
 I flew to Saal and found Willy contentedly 
 munching food as usual. I began my confession 
 humbly. He silenced me. 
 
 "Smithy, you have done me a great favor. I 
 can never repay you. I am going to stay here 
 always and help Frieda run the inn, and eat her 
 food," he added. 
 
 "But your throne, Willy — " 
 He laughed. 
 
 "Emperor of Aristokia, by grace of the workers 
 of the world I" he said derisively. "No, Smithy. 
 
 205 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 My great-grandfather said, 'World dominion or 
 downfall' when he started the Great War. He 
 lost, and I have no choice but downfall — with 
 Frieda." 
 
 And so I left him, the last of the Hohen- 
 zollerns, happily eating sauer-kraut. 
 
 I returned to the imperial palace, my mind 
 made up. 
 
 To understand my next move, you must re- 
 member that I was at that time an assiduous 
 student of the dramatic literature of the Broad- 
 way period. I knew my Bayard Veillers, my 
 Max Marcin, George Scarborough, and Samuel 
 Shipman by heart. In this emergency I knew I 
 should resort to "knock-out drops." But I had 
 none. Failing this classic remedy, I used the 
 modern substitute: as Gwendolyn slumbered 
 sweetly, I hypnotized her. 
 
 While she was in this state of hypnosis I made 
 her sign the articles of abdication that I had pre- 
 pared. I myself left the following valedictory for 
 the people of Aristokia. 
 
 206 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 There is only one person temperamentally fitted and 
 mentally equipped to rule over you, His Royal Highness 
 the Grand Duke George of Wigleigh. 
 
 I signed it royally, "John." 
 
 I then strapped Gwendolyn into my plane and 
 flew away with her, leaving Aristokia to awake 
 to a day of chaos. 
 
 207 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WE flew southward over the snowy battle- 
 ments of the Alps; over the quiet, 
 smiling fields of France; the Pyrenees; Spain; 
 Portugal. 
 
 Late in the afternoon I brought the machine to 
 rest on a sandy stretch of beach on the Portuguese 
 coast, I had not awakened Gwendolyn, for I 
 knew the deep hypnotic sleep was a balm to her 
 tired nerves. I myself was exhausted, so I 
 snatched three hours' sleep, which sufficiently re- 
 freshed me to continue the journey. 
 
 During the long night I flew westward over 
 the Atlantic at a terrific speed. I was far south 
 of the regular transatlantic routes and sighted 
 few other planes. I passed over the most 
 westerly of the Azores at about midnight. 
 
 When the dawn came, a vast sea of rolling, 
 billowy cloud lay beneath us. The gray rim of 
 the world was touched here and there with the 
 
 208 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 lavender and pale pink of nascent day. Shafts 
 of flame shot through the clouds, and we seemed 
 to be flying over the crater of an immense vol- 
 cano filled with seething lava. 
 
 As the sun climbed higher, the clouds rose up 
 in wreaths and spirals, white, ghostly figures 
 whirling with outstretched, tapering arms to the 
 sky. Vapor enfolded us. Then far beneath, 
 through the canons of mist, the sea appeared, 
 blue-green, sinuous, restless, and reptilian. I 
 flew lower. The ocean was a shattered mirror 
 in the sunlight. 
 
 The day wore on. As the sun set, the white 
 towers of New York appeared. It had been a 
 record trip even for me, five thousand miles in 
 thirty-six hours. 
 
 We passed over Staten Island, over the Monu- 
 ment of Freedom, that colossal piece of sculp- 
 ture designed by the great American Barnard, 
 and erected to symbolize the freedom of the 
 world. 
 
 I circled around the great figures, a man and 
 woman, both nude, the man, brute strength with 
 
 209 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 a face that dreamed; the woman, joyous, half- 
 bacchante, half-madonna, holding aloft a child. 
 From their sides gigantic chains went crashing 
 downward, and at their feet, sinking into the 
 rock, were crowns, scepters, money-bags, the little 
 figures of tyrants and capitalists; broken swords, 
 rifles, and cannon, the wreckage of a world mili- 
 tarism. 
 
 It was a glorious conception, but what a mock- 
 ery! I thought. This freedom it personified did 
 not exist. Like all great works of art, Barnard's 
 masterpiece was ahead of the facts of life. 
 
 We passed over the old Statue of Liberty. I 
 suppose it, too, had been ahead of the thing it 
 symbolized. 
 
 Then New York I My blood tingled as I flew 
 uptown, high above the top tier of Broadway. 
 Already at that date the third level was devoted 
 entirely to auto-ped traffic, and the middle of the 
 street was filled with tiny black figures rushing 
 northward. The north-bound moving platforms 
 were also crowded, the south-bound, desolate. 
 Same old New York ! 
 
 210 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 Gwendolyn, whom I had awakened early in the 
 morning that she might see the sunrise, was gaz- 
 ing at the city beneath her, awestruck. 
 
 "It 's a great sight when you see it for the first 
 time, is n't it^" I shouted. 
 
 Perhaps she did n't hear me, for she did n't 
 answer. All day she had not opened her lips 
 except to swallow some of my despised capsules. 
 
 T shut off the engine and volplaned gently 
 downward, coming to rest in a great grassy space. 
 
 "Where are we*?" murmured Gwendolyn. 
 
 "Van Cortlandt Park, in the center of New 
 York city," I answered her. 
 
 She turned to me with truly Aristokian disre- 
 gard of the gaping bystanders, threw her arms 
 about my neck, and kissed me ecstatically, croon- 
 ing, "Jacky, you darling! I 'm so happy I I al- 
 ways wanted you to bring me here this way. I 
 love you so! You are wonderful !" 
 
 The crowd of idlers giggled. These four-hour 
 day laws have just filled New York with people 
 with nothing to do, I thought angrily as I lifted 
 Gwendolyn out. 
 
 . 211 
 
ARISTOKIA 
 
 I checked the machine, and we hurried to the 
 nearest registrar's office, at the busy corner of 
 Broadway and 242nd Street. We passed the 
 physical examination with flying colors, secured 
 our license, and were legally mated within an 
 hour. 
 
 In tne years that followed, our great happi- 
 ness was slightly marred by the disappointments 
 I encountered. I was still young, and had not 
 learned that the world cannot be reformed by 
 one man, in a day or in a century. 
 
 I am an old man now as I write this record of 
 my youthful romance and adventure. The flame 
 of impatient enthusiasm that burned in my veins 
 fifty years ago has waned and died out, and in its 
 place are peace and understanding. 
 
 I have seen many changes, much astounding 
 progress; and yet the millennium is as far off to- 
 day as no doubt it seemed one hundred years 
 ago. It will be ever thus, I think. Life's hori- 
 zon is always the limit of our vision advancing 
 before us as we grope onward — perfection, the 
 ever-present mirage. A century is less than a sec- 
 
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ARISTOKIA 
 
 ond of time in life's eternal, colossal unfoldment. 
 We individual units are only minutiae in the Great 
 Being that lives in the spaces of infinity. 
 
 How infinitesimal is the accomplishment even 
 of the greatest of us I 
 
 Once long years ago I called myself an "in- 
 ventor." It is a fatuous word that we have at 
 last discarded, and for which we have substituted 
 the more modest "discoverer." We rearrange the 
 facts at our disposal in some new complexity, that 
 is all. 
 
 Those of you who still think you can mold the 
 world as if it were potter's clay will call me a 
 pessimist, but I protest. I am an unconquerable 
 optimist. I believe in the ultimate purpose of 
 life. We must strive to understand it and add 
 our mite in the right direction. If we fail, life 
 will smash us and pass us by. 
 
 Knowledge and foresight are the great virtues. 
 Look back with me. If only men one hundred 
 years ago had foreseen the Great War; if only my 
 own America had foreseen and prepared for her 
 entrance into the great conflict; if only during the 
 
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ARISTOKIA 
 
 war men everywhere had foreseen and prepared for 
 the coming of the Revolution or the peace; if only 
 the signing of the armistice had not been a sig- 
 nal for the relegation to the realm of splendid 
 memories of all the moral heroisms born of the 
 war's travail; if only men could have realized, 
 as they argued terms of peace and settlement, that 
 the Great War was only the prologue in a world 
 drama which they thought ended when it had 
 just begun, how different things might be to- 
 day I 
 
 214 
 
'/ 
 
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