Count Marlanx welcomed his visitors with a graciousness that awoke
wonder in the minds of his staff. His marked preference for the American
girl did not escape attention. Some of the bolder young officers
indulged in surreptitious grimaces, and all looked with more or less
compassion upon the happy-faced beauty from over the sea. Marlanx
surveyed Baldos steadily and coldly, deep disapproval in his sinister
eyes. He had not forgotten the encounter of the day before.
"I see the favorite is on guard," he said blandly. "Has he told you of
the lesson in manners he enjoyed last night?" He was leading his guests
toward the quarters, Baldos and Haddan following. The new guard could
not help hearing the sarcastic remark.
"You didn't have him beaten?" cried Beverly, stopping short.
"No, but I imagine it would have been preferable. I talked with
him for half an hour," said the general, laughing significantly.
When the party stopped at the drinking-fountain in the center of the
fort, Baldos halted near by. His face was as impassive as marble, his
eyes set straight before him, his figure erect and soldierly. An
occasional sarcastic remark by the Iron Count, meant for his ears, made
no impression upon the deadly composure of the new guard who had had his
lesson. Miss Calhoun was conscious of a vague feeling that she
had served Baldos an ill-turn when she put him into this position.
The count provided a light luncheon in his quarters after the ladies had
gone over the fortress. Beverly Calhoun, with all of a woman's
indifference to things material, could not but see how poorly equipped
the fort was as compared to the ones she had seen in the United
States. She and the countess visited the armory, the arsenal, and the
repair shops before luncheon, reserving the pleasures of the clubhouse,
the officers' quarters, and the parade-ground until afterwards. Count
Marlanx's home was in the southeast corner of the enclosure, near the
gates. Several of the officers lunched with him and the young
ladies. Marlanx was assiduous in his attention to Beverly Calhoun--so
much so, in fact, that the countess teased her afterwards about her
conquest of the old and well-worn heart. Beverly thought him extremely
silly and sentimental, much preferring him in the character of the
harsh, implacable martinet.
At regular intervals she saw the straight, martial form of Baldos pass
the window near which she sat. He was patrolling the narrow piazza which
fronted the house. Toward the close of the rather trying luncheon she
was almost unable to control the impulse to rush out and compel him to
relax that imposing, machine-like stride. She hungered for a few minutes
of the old-time freedom with him.