Yetive's eyes answered his enthusiasm. Both had a warm and grateful
memory of the loyal service which the young American had rendered his
friend when they had first come to Graustark in quest of the princess;
and both had a great regard for his wife, the Countess Dagmar, who, as
Yetive's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those
exciting days with them.
As they drew near the gates of Edelweiss, a large body of horsemen rode
forth to meet them. The afternoon was well on the way to night, and the
air of the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the June
sun.
"Edelweiss at last," murmured Beverly, her face aglow. "The heart of
Graustark. Do you know that I have been brushing up on my grammar? I
have learned the meaning of the word 'Graustark,' and it seems so
appropriate. Grau is gray, hoary, old; stark is
strong. Old and strong--isn't it, dear?"
"And here rides the oldest and strongest man in all Graustark--the Iron
Count of Marlanx," said Yetive, looking down the road. "See--the strange
gray man in front there is our greatest general, our craftiest fighter,
our most heartless warrior. Does he not look like the eagle or the
hawk?"
A moment later the parties met, and the newcomers swung into line with
the escort. Two men rode up to the carriage and saluted. One was Count
Marlanx, the other Colonel Quinnox, of the Royal Guard. The count, lean
and gray as a wolf, revealed rows of huge white teeth in his perfunctory
smile of welcome, while young Quinnox's face fairly beamed with honest
joy. In the post that he held, he was but following in the footsteps of
his forefathers. Since history began in Graustark, a Quinnox had been in
charge of the castle guard.
The "Iron Count," as he sometimes was called, was past his sixtieth
year. For twenty years he had been in command of the army. One had but
to look at his strong, sardonic face to know that he was a fearless
leader, a savage fighter. His eyes were black, piercing and never quiet;
his hair and close-cropped beard were almost snow-white; his voice was
heavy and without a vestige of warmth. Since her babyhood Yetive had
stood in awe of this grim old warrior. It was no uncommon thing for
mothers to subdue disobedient children with the threat to give them over
to the "Iron Count." "Old Marlanx will get you if you're not good," was
a household phrase in Edelweiss. He had been married five times and as
many times had he been left a widower. If he were disconsolate in any
instance, no one had been able to discover the fact. Enormously rich, as
riches go in Graustark, he had found young women for his wives who
thought only of his gold and his lands in the trade they made with
Cupid. It was said that without exception they died happy. Death was a
joy. The fortress overlooking the valley to the south was no more rugged
and unyielding than the man who made his home within its walls. He lived
there from choice and it was with his own money that he fitted up the
commandant's quarters in truly regal style. Power was more to him than
wealth, though he enjoyed both.