The German bracelet

Chapter I

The Broadnax family was not a large one, as were many of the Southern families, Irene being the only daughter and Stanley the only son.

Old Mr. Broadnax had, in his younger days, spent much of his time abroad, fond of the social life of the European capitals, mildly interested in art, and wealthy enough to indulge a fancy for collecting curios.

Returning to his native land, he retained always a distinct impression that a bit of travel on the Continent was quite essential to an American man’s education, even though it has been said, “In Europe a man is numbered and ticketed the day he is born, and assigned to his place on a shelf in a row of shelves, while in America he is free to choose for himself.

Thus, naturally, when Stanley, who was proclaimed by the young men of his own age and county “a rattling good fellow,” and by the fair sex, “just too charming,” had finished his course at Lexington he was sent to Heidelberg for a broader course of study, to be followed by an indefinite period of travel.

Not a few rumors had been wafted across the county during Stanley’s days at Lexington, of affairs at the Institute and on the race course not altogether to a young man’s credit; but then, who would not forget such disagreeables when a fellow scattered money like grain, and whose family was quite the best in the county? Of his life abroad his family read letters filled with accounts of various gayeties, with an occasional reference to study. Frequently he mentioned names which were familiar to his father, and when these chanced to be families of distinction the old man’s pride was gratified.

One name the Broadnax family came to know well; it was Cragfels, always associated with Stanley’s in accounts of his wildest and gayest escapades. We should now find him with this companion if we were to enter his sumptuously furnished apartments. The two men were lounging in deep easy-chairs, and the room was heavy with the smoke that circled upwards in great clouds from the German’s pipe, and in delicate wreaths from the American’s cigar; failing to reach the high ceiling, it settled upon the heavy curtains which shut out the raw evening air, and enveloped with a thin veil the pictures, arms, and other ornaments decorating the walls.

“Well, do you go to-morrow night?” Cragfels was asking while he watched his companion’s face through the smoke.

“Go where?”

“To the Countess Geyelin’s,” returned Cragfels. “Madamoiselle Eunice is to be there.”

Broadnax smiled slightly, and extending a lazy, white hand toward a small glass upon the table and raising it, he sipped its contents with indolent appreciation, asking with an assumption of indifference: “Why don’t you marry Mademoiselle?”

A heavy cloud rose from the German’s meerschaum before he replied:

“It is impossible; it would ruin me. My chance in this life hangs upon a slender thread, and to marry Mademoiselle, — an actress, — Himmel !”

He frowned savagely, gripping the big pipe.

Broadnax’s dark eyes showed a gleam of interest; his friend appeared to be in an unusual humor; he would draw him out a bit farther.

‘‘Why should the lady upset your chances?” he queried.

“Ach! it is what you call a complication,” Cragfels muttered. “I do not fully know it myself, though I here possess the key to it.”

He put his hand up and drew from around his neck a slender chain on which was clasped a bracelet of antique and exquisite workmanship.

Stanley’s interest now thoroughly aroused, he leaned over to examine more fully the trinket so curiously worn.

It was a broad yet delicate band of quaint design, on which was woven a filigree tracery of roses, the clasp being a square of plain gold, surmounted by a wonderful rose pink pearl.

As Broadnax exclaimed at its singular beauty the German continued :

“The rose is the German emblem of secrecy, you know. It is said to have become so from the legend of Cupid giving to the God of Silence a rose to bribe him not to betray the amours of Venus; so I suppose it was used appropriately here, as there is a mystery connected with this: though I do now know all, I yet know that it Is the controlling influence of my destiny, and, as such, I wear it always; it has decreed I shall not marry Mademoiselle Eunice.”

He rose, and replaced the bracelet, conveying the impression that he had said all he expected to say on the subject.

Stanley felt curious to know more of its history, but decided to wait another opportunity, and instead watched his companion as he paced back and forth the length of the room, pipe in mouth and hands thrust deep in his pockets. The march continued, coming to an abrupt halt before Stanley’s low chair.

“Mademoiselle Eunice,” he began — “you care nothing for her yourself, then why are you with her so much?”

He looked down at his companion as he asked the question, the heavy brows bent in a scowl of evident irritation.

The superficial friendship which had united the two men after Stanley’s arrival in the town had become decidedly strained of late; the latter had used to his own advantage the German’s intimacy with several families of position, and having now obtained entree within the desired social circle he found his former associate a bit too much of a bore, to put it mildly. Poker he had taught the German, winning his money quietly and steadily during the process; now he was tired of the man’s stolidity, and it was with this feeling that he answered in light mockery :

“The lady is charming, fascinating and — I enjoy your expression when you see us together.”

He laughed softly. “You can hardly blame my attitude when you prefer a mere bracelet — a beauty. I’ll admit — ^to the supreme bliss of matrimony with the entrancing Eunice.”

The low malicious laugh again reached the ears of Cragfels.

“It is for my vexation you do this then; that you fill her ears with your soft American words of empty flattery, and then laugh over your success and my chagrin! It is so, is it?” he continued, his anger rising steadily as he pictured his own defeat compared to Stanley’s victory.

“Well, you smooth-tongued deceiver, I tell you to have a care, and not to annoy me too far. I am a stupid German, it is so? And you a clever American, so? But it is not for your eternal pleasure to get this stupid German aroused. Do not be too clever, my American friend. You should not forget a few little rumors that have circled about with your attractive self as their center. Not too far, Herr Broadnax !”

The last words were uttered as Cragfels, grasping his soft felt hat from the couch where he had dropped it, stalked toward the door, banging it emphatically after him.

As the sound of the footsteps of the departing guest ceased, Stanley rose slowly and with evident reluctance from his lounging position, a smile of self-satisfaction upon his lips. He dismissed the affair with a careless shrug of his broad shoulders, and deciding against going out, finished his evening with a French novel of dubious title.

Cragfels, on the contrary, feeling himself in need of gentle consolation, after improving his appearance by a change of attire, proceeded to the apartment of Mademoiselle Eunice, who was at once the delight and the torment of his existence.

Being ushered into the tiny salon by the most discreet of black-frocked, low-voiced maids, he wandered about the daintily furnished room with undisguised restlessness. Leaning his elbow on the marble mantle he found himself face to face with a large photograph of his recent companion. Cursing the original with native thoroughness in good mouth-filling German syllables, he restrained himself with difficulty from smashing the aggravating likeness with equal thoroughness.

“Bon soir, Monsieur Cragfels!”

The silvery tones reached him while yet clutching the offending picture, and turning hastily he gazed down at the fairy-like creature with mingled emotions. What was she — this little Frenchwoman? Was she merely playing with him, and really in love with the American?

Having returned her greeting, Cragfels started to replace the photograph as the lady asked :

“Why are you studying that picture? I don’t believe you even turned your eyes once to my own portrait; see! Is it not parfait? That adorable little Russian painted it, and presented it to me in such a charming way that it quite touched my heart; now was it not most delightful of him?”

Her piquant countenance, all aglow with childish pleasure, was turned appealingly to the German. Without giving him time, however, to express his apparent jealousy by more than a slight growl, she chattered on in French, having definitely refused to speak any but that language with Cragfels ; declaring that German was the language of necessity, but French the language of pleasure.

“Come, you shall sit here beside me, where you will be comfortable.”

She piled pillows invitingly at the other end of the chaise-longue, on which she had perched herself like a butterfly settling for a moment amidst fragrant, soft-tinted foliage.

“And you shall tell me why there is such a terrible thundercloud just above your brow. Confess to me your misdemeanors and I shall point out the path of virtue, and set you on your way, and there shall be great rejoicing among the angels over one sinner that repen teth !”

She ended with a merry laugh, leaning toward the German with an indescribable air of camaraderie difficult indeed to resist.

As the roguish eyes of Mademoiselle Eunice were raised to his, Cragfels, hesitating uneasily on the precipitous cliff of suspicion, with sudden rashness cast himself down deep into that sea of indiscretion the waves of which have closed over many a shrewder head.

“It is Broadnax,” he commenced in the French, which he invariably embellished with his own guttural expressions.

“What! not your American friend? I thought a man’s friendship was not like a woman’s, subject to change.”

The brightness of Mademoiselle’s smile had somewhat dimmed.

For one instant the head of Cragfels appeared above the waves as he noted a different quality in the voice, but immediately, with the lightest possible touch on his rough locks, the tiny white hand of Mademoiselle Eunice sent him remorselessly down, never again to rise to the surface.

“Why do you receive him here? Why do you allow him to take you everywhere? When I ask if you care for him or me, you tell me it is for me; then when you are with him you care not whether you speak to me or not; I will not stand it. Ach! Do you love me, Eunice, at all, that you can so torture me?”

He grasped the little hand beside him with a fervor that caused Eunice to exclaim something that sounded like “imbecile!” She pulled her hand away in real or feigned anger, the color tinting her fair cheeks becomingly as she answered with spirit :

“No! Monsieur Cragfels, of a certainty I do not love you the least little bit when you are in such a shocking bad humor; and for why,” she continued more excitedly, “should I not enjoy the society of Monsieur Broadnax, who is of a sweet temper and says amusing things, while you simply say you adore me, but cannot marry me? Mon Dieu! that is truly a pretty reason!”

The beaded tip of Mademoiselle’s slipper tapped the floor in quick time as she sat up very straight and delivered her volley of indignation straight at the fourth button of the German’s coat.

“But!” she interrupted herself, “you have not told you why two etre en disaccord!”

There was, in place of anger, a truly feminine ring of curiosity in her voice as she regarded her companion in rather more friendly manner.

“You are the real cause, I think, my charming one,” Cragfels answered, exasperated and yet fascinated by the whimsical little creature beside him.

“He comes here, an American, pretends to a friendship with me, gladly accepts of the hospitality of my friends, makes love to you in his irresponsible way, uses all of us, and then ridicules us behind our backs,” he continued savagely. “It is unbearable. He considered it amusing that circumstances prevent my marrying you ; laughed at me !”

“You told Monsieur Broadnax the reason, perhaps?”

“I — ” Cragfels hesitated.

He had mentioned once to Eunice that whatever life held in store for him as his future was bound up in some curious way with a piece of jewelry, but that was all, and he had no particular wish to explain further.

Seeing his evident hesitation. Mademoiselle decided immediately that there must be a much more substantial foundation for the slight explanation she had heard, which, to tell the truth, she had imagined to be only one of those light and airy structures erected by the imagination of man when hard pressed by a woman’s inquisitiveness.

“Yes?” she murmured in gentle encouragement; “you,” — then sadly: “Alas, you do not trust me! Is it thus you offer love, withholding your confidence? Parbleu, what a nature!”

Her hands clasped, and body shrinking slightly from him, expressed a delicate horror, while the childish eyes looked up reproachfully.

He was a brute! Cragfels realized it with a conviction that no orator nor logician could have confuted.

“Ach, Liebschen! but you must not hate me; I may tell but little, yet see, you shall believe me; my life is ruled by this. I cannot tell you more, save only that I may not marry you yet, perhaps never.”

Eunice had permitted the German’s clumsily tender arm to gather her and numerous cushions to a closer proximity; with the other hand he drew the beautiful old chain from his neck, holding it with the bracelet before her inquisitive gaze. Mademoiselle fairly shrieked her little exclamations of ecstacy, while her eyes devoured every detail of its exquisite workmanship with an intensity of appreciation that in a less lovely being we might be tempted to call covetousness.

Nothing would suffice but she must place the bracelet upon her own fair arm.

“See!” she chirped, “I am like a prisoned bird, and,” — tugging playfully, — “you are my cruel captor, who keeps me chained. When I grow weary of struggling perhaps I shall fly back to you and rest.”

As the words fell from her lips in low, caressing tones she leaned her head against the region where she calculated the palpitating heart of the now thoroughly tamed brute should be.

It were indeed charity to impute to blindness the lack of justice which prompted Mademoiselle Eunice to weigh her one grain of pleasure against her companion’s bushel of pain.

As the manacled arm was raised for his admiration and approval Cragfels drew it to his lips, imprinting kisses thereon with a fervor that caused the lips of Mademoiselle to curve in a contemptuous smile as the German’s head was bowed.

“It has its proper place,” he murmured. “I can find it in my heart to envy this bit of inanimate gold.”

“Ah! what it is to possess such a perfect jewel 1” Mademoiselle sighed. “Do you know, all my life have I longed for a pearl of this marvelous rose-pink. Mon Dieu 1 it is hard to be always in the grasp of that monstre, pauvrete!”

Mademoiselle shuddered; yet looking at the walls and furniture of the apartment, and finally at the lady herself, gowned in accordance with her Parisian birth and training, one would feel disinclined to credit her words with their natural interpretation.

“I shall never have the happiness of owning such a bracelet, but I may wear this just a little while? Yes? Ah, but you are so good!” she chattered on, not waiting for a reply.

“I will be so very careful; and you do not have a conception how happy it makes me just to wear it one little minute — and I shall remember ever how my Cragfels had kept it always upon his heart!”

Seeing the happiness imparted by the mere toying with the ornament, Cragfels found it utterly impossible to refuse the gratification of a whim which made Mademoiselle Eunice so tender and affectionate. When the blue eyes begged mutely for the golden circlet the possession of which entailed great responsibility, he unclasped the chain and left the bracelet upon the arm it adorned so well.

“I cannot give to to you, little butterfly, and I may not let you keep it long; but for a little while it shall rest upon that beautiful arm, and then, when I again wear it upon its chain, I shall fancy it holds with it your love for me, to console my heart always.”

Her countenance assuming an expression of gentle appreciation. Mademoiselle Eunice concealed the intensity of her satisfaction, and as her ardent admirer rose to go she continued her strain of flattery, filling in industriously, with the padding of sweet words, every crevice of his brain through which might chance to blow the searching wind of common sense.

She followed him to the door and bade him a gay au revoir.

Chapter II

Several days had elapsed since the conversation between Cragfels and the American recorded in the last chapter, and as Broadnax wended his way through the lighted streets of the old city one would hardly fancy him to be deserving of the German’s vehement denunciation.

A living testimonial to the arts of tailoring and valeting, his undeniably handsome countenance, and a certain careless independence in his swinging stride, saved him from being herded with the vast throng of nonentities.

It was not a longing to commune with nature that had drawn him from the warmth and comfort of his apartments; no thought of the unique history of the city, the scene of medieval struggle and romantic legend, passed through the mind of this young scion of a new race and civilization; if his keen eyes peered before him intently, it was not toward the distant Castle hill, where, against the moon-illumined sky, were traced faint outlines of the ruins of the most beautiful of all German castles.

Improved in turn by Rupert and succeeding electors, it had continued for centuries to gaze with the mild benevolence of advanced age from its commanding position, far across the gliding Neckar at its feet, over the intervening valleys, toward the glistening waters of the Rhine.

Alas! it must be admitted any admiration Stanley felt for the marvelously beautiful tapestry of nature was excited only as the variously woven threads completed a whole serviceable as a background for his own adventures.

Returning with a cordiality tempered with indifference the greetings of acquaintances whom he met, he continued on his way, his brows contracted now and then, seeming to indicate a train of thought not wholly agreeable ; such was indeed the case.

His very liberal allowance had of late not sufficed for what he termed his needs, and the lack had frequently been supplied by his winnings at poker, which he, together with other Americans, had introduced among their German associates, greatly to Stanley’s pecuniary advantage, as has been hinted. But, notwithstanding the assistance thus rendered, the young man now found himself in an embarrassing position.

His father quite realized his own liberality in the matter of allowance, and would scarcely be inclined to further generosity. On the other hand, there were debts that refused to be again deferred. Clearly, then, his only resource was to win, with no possibility of failure, a good round sum from the Goddess Chance, appearing to-night in the guise of several companions who were to meet at the house toward which his steps were now directed.

It was the same one of which Cragfels had spoken, the home of the Countess Geyelin, a middle-aged widow whose husband had left her well provided with the gifts of Mammon, and whose genial heart, having no family in which to interest itself, found a certain satisfaction in assembling at her receptions all kinds of youthful strugglers, as well as artists of assured position, for the purpose of enjoying themselves in whatever way they found most agreeable. The hospitality and kindly disposition of the Countess made her evenings all that hostess or guest could desire.

Stanley mounted the broad steps of gray stone, in keeping with the solid structure of ivycovered stucco built to withstand the wear and tear of time and usage.

The heavy doors were thrown open by a venerable footman wearing the Geyelin livery, a relic of medieval gorgeousness.

Above the low conversational hum the strains of a rich contralto voice singing one of Rakoczy’s stirringly beautiful melodies reached him; he paused a moment to listen as the singer’s voice rose to fuller and intenser feeling, telling the story of strong romantic patriotism that has ever been the theme of Magyar poets and musicians.

The notes of voice and piano mingled in a grand finale of exultant triumph — a glory never more to be dimmed; but with prophetic pathos the strains of the violin lingered on: for the future there might be freedom and joy, but there was still suffering to be borne ere the goal be reached.

The wide hall was lighted by great lamps resting on high bronze pedestals, or on iron wrought in fantastic shapes ; delicate tinted shades softening their light.

Partially concealed where he stood by the tapestry portiere, Broadnax had not been observed by a group of men on the other side of the hall. They were evidently discussing some one and Stanley caught the words spoken in a rather higher key :

“Oh, it will be done to-night, never fear; Cragfels has brought old Erkstein on purpose.”

The tones were again lowered and he heard no more.

Entering the room at the door of which he had paused, Stanley made his way from group to group of gayly attired guests in animated conversation. A young American student had followed the artist’s Hungarian melody with a minstrel song, and was now explaining the mystery of a darky breakdown.

Stanley noted the utter lack of restraint, the genuine pleasure everywhere evident as he strolled toward the divan on which he had caught a glimpse of the Countess, laughing as gayly as the most youthful of her friends.

After remaining with the guests gathered about her long enough to ascertain the information that Madamoiselle Eunice was unable to come, Broadnax passed on, through an adjoining room where a game of billiards was in progress, to a smaller apartment. Jt was here that those desiring the amusement afforded by cards were wont to assemble.

As he entered, an exceedingly military-looking young man came sauntering toward him.

“Eh, Broadnax, you will play to-night?”

Something in the way the question was asked annoyed the latter, and he answered with an irritating smile:

“With pleasure, if you will promise, in the name of the Army, not to bankrupt a poor civilian, my General!”

The jest did not appeal to the young ensign, as he had lost repeatedly to the American, and he stalked off, his complacency a bit ruffled.

Several tables were forming; some for bacarrat, others for pinochle, and one table for the American game of poker.

It was toward this last table that Stanley made his way, laughing and joking with his friends in his usual debonair manner.

It was a gay crowd that gathered about this particular table, and the betting ran high.

The first hand in the game was about to be dealt, when Broadnax, looking up from where he sat facing the door, beheld, with a feeling akin to uneasiness, the entrance of two men.

One was Cragfels, the other a distinguishedlooking man of perhaps fifty, whom he did not recognize.

Advancing toward the poker table, Cragfels and his companion, who seemed to be known to most of the men, exchanged greetings with more than ordinary cordiality.

Stanley had at first avoided Cragfel’s eye, but as room was made at the opposite side of the table to accommodate the last arrivals, he glanced up at his former comrade with an air of casual indifference he was far from feeling. This exuberance of spirits was unnatural in the German, and Stanley found it disquieting. If he had wondered how Cragfels would behave he was not kept long in suspense.

Seating himself deliberately, Cragfels met the glance of his vis-a-vis squarely.

“Ah, good evening, Broadnax,” he said, his large smile expressing anything but pleasure, while the long saber scar upon his left cheek seemed to stand out with exceptional distinctness, giving a rather sinister expression to his usually stolid countenance.

“I think you have not met my friend Herr Erkstein,” laying his hand on the shoulder of the man sitting next him. “Herr Broadnax,” he continued to the older man, “is an American who has found us slow Germans pleasant opponents in this game of poker. He is a very successful player.”

As Stanley and Erkstein acknowledged the existence of each other, Cragfels had spoken the last words with a distinctness that seemed to insinuate rather more than their apparent meaning; however, Stanley decided it was to his advantage to let it pass; but he would be cautious.

His resolution held good during the early stages of the game, and he lost frequently with a good grace.

Feeling that his enemy, as Cragfels’s manner had proved to him to be beyond a doubt, had by this time been thrown completely off his guard, Broadnax commenced earnestly his real play; winning slowly, with an occasional loss, he felt he was working gradually toward the desired goal. At times he thought he detected a slight strain of expectancy in the smokecharged atmosphere that hung over the card tables, but he banished the fancy impatiently, assuring himself it was merely imagination.

Persuaded that his discretion had placed him beyond any chance of suspicion, he won rather more heavily. Waiting a good opportunity, he drew on the one man remaining “in,” feeling that the end of his present financial difficulty was near. Being “called,” he laid down his cards with the calmness of assured success.

As his unfortunate opponent placed his hand upon the table, inferior by one card to Stanley’s, the latter reached out with a nonchalant air to take in the notes so invitingly piled before him, only to hear the guttural accents of his erstwhile friend saying, as with his hand he covered the enticing pile:

“Himmel, no!” And rising in his excitement, he cried, pointing down at Broadnax: “Cheat! Scoundrel! Touch not that money! You shall answer to me for this, and many other things.”

“You lie! stupid blockhead that you are!” burst out Broadnax, furious at the imminent disgrace. “Take back your words, damn you, or I’ll teach you a new trick in eating!”

“Not so fast, my young fire-eater,” interposed Herr Erkstein, so far a silent spectator of the scene. “Before you scatter your words so rashly, just permit me to take from your sleeve that other ace. Ah! so,” as he coolly slipped from Stanley’s sleeve the card neatly lodged there.

“It would seem you have not taught my friends the typically American way of playing this game,” he added in accents of biting sarcasm as he held high the missing card.

Hardly allowing Erkstein to finish, Cragfels bent toward his foe, saying in a voice thick with suppressed anger:-

“To-night my seconds will call upon you, Herr Broadnax, and to-morrow at sunrise I will teach you what a stupid German thinks of a card-cheater, and” — hissing the last words at him — “a flattering dissembler!”

Even as the words were spoken, Broadnax had reached his decision. At first the shock of exposure had stunned him, and then his brain had worked rapidly. Not a ghost of a chance for him in a duel with his enemy, a skilled swordsman, and pistols were usually tabooed as too likely to bring on the Schutzmann.

No, his only course was to rush events.

He had been standing, and as the last words fell from Cragfels’s lips he replied with a taunting smile:

“In my country we have a saying, ‘never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day,’ ” altering by emphasis the meaning of the proverb to meet the present emergency, and following his tantalizing speech with a telling blow on the German’s jaw.

Most of the men had crowded to Broadnax’s side of the table when Erkstein had taken the card from him.

As Cragfels staggered back a pace from the blow, his eyes fell upon a rapier on the wall behind him, a weapon of excellent metal and of great value as a curio. His mind in a whirl of rage, he forgot the fact of his being in the house of a lady, and all other considerations which at another time would have weighed. To snatch the gleaming sword from its fastening was the work of a moment, yet it gave Stanley his chance.

Clearing the table at a bound, he rushed on his adversary, throwing the full weight of his body against him, and at the same time striving to fling one arm about his neck; but the German turned too quickly, and with the full swing of his raised arm brought down the jeweled hilt of the rapier with terrific force on Broadnax’s shoulder, grazing the side of his head as he did so, bearing him down, down, till his knees bent beneath him, and he fell, to be caught by one of the surrounding crowd, now wildly endeavoring to separate the two men.