Pimpernel and Rosemary

Then suddenly everything ceased all at once. The music, the movement, everything. Rosemary would have fallen, giddy, dazed, but for the fact that Jasper, quick as lightening, had caught her in his arms. Her instinct was to laugh.

"What happened?" she asked, rather wildly.

Then only did she look about her. First she saw Jasper's face bending over her, but he was not looking at her: he was gazing straight across the room. Rosemary's eyes followed his gaze. And all at once she gave a gasp, which she smothered instantly by clapping her hand to her mouth. The whole aspect of the room had changed. The gipsies seemed to have shrunk into a dark corner, with their instruments tucked hastily under their arms; they seemed to be trying to make themselves invisible. Two of them had crawled under the piano; only their feet, in shabby, down-at-heel shoes, protruded under the folds of rich brocade that covered the instrument.

And in the centre of the room there was a group of men, some half-dozen, in the uniform of the Roumanian army. One of them had his hand on Philip's shoulder. Philip stood in the midst of them; his dark face was still flushed with the dance, his curly hair clung to his streaming forehead. He was still panting with the movement and excitement of a moment ago, and his eyes, dark and glowing, wandered ceaselessly from one soldier's face to another.

Under the lintel of the great double doors that gave on the hall a couple of men servants stood, scared.

Rosemary's ears were buzzing and she saw everything through a veil; the room had not yet quite ceased whirling about her, but through the din in her ears and the hammering in her head she heard the ominous words: "Resistance will do you no good. You had best come quietly." They were spoken in Roumanian, which Rosemary understood.

Then there came a cry like that of a wounded beast, and Maurus Imrey jumped to his feet. With head down he charged into the soldiers just like an infuriated bull. Of course, he was seized at once, dragged back, forced down into a chair, where, with arms gripped by the soldiers, he launched forth a torrent of invective and abuse, and now and then, when he succeeded in freeing one of his arms, he hit out to right and left with his fist.

One of the soldiers, who appeared to be in command, spoke to him with cold deliberation:

"You are behaving like a fool, M. le Comte," he said. "For let me tell you that if you interfere with my men in the execution of their duty I will take you along, too."

Maurus's answer to this sound piece of advice was a fresh torrent of vituperation. He shook himself free from the hands that held him down, raised a menacing fist, and cried hoarsely:

"If you dare to touch me, you miserable—"

But suddenly stronger arms than those of the soldiers were thrown around him and forced him back into the chair. They were his wife's arms. Elza Imrey throughout all this had thought of nothing but the danger to Philip. The humiliation of this descent upon her house, the insolent attitude of the soldiers, this bringing home the fact of alien occupation and alien government, hardly affected her. Her one thought was Philip. The danger to Philip doubled and trebled by his father's ungoverned temper. And, my God, if he should strike one of the soldiers! So she held Maurus down, held her hand across his mouth; and Rosemary could hear her whispering in a thick, choked voice:

"Maurus, in God's name! Maurus, keep quiet! Maurus, for Philip's sake, hold your tongue!"

He struggled desperately, but she held him as only a mother can hold that which threatens her child. The soldier looked on with a sardonic smile. When Maurus at last was forced into silence, he shrugged his shoulders and said dryly:

"You are very wise, madame, to keep M. le Comte's temper in check for him. My orders are that if any resistance is offered to take all three of you along. I need not tell you that after that you two will be sent packing out of the country, and your son—"

A cry from Elza broke into his complacent speech. At once she became humble, cringing, all the pride of the aristocrat was submerged in the devastating anxiety of the mother. She still held Maurus down, for she dared not loosen her hold on him, but she turned a tear-stained face, pathetic-looking in its expression of appeal, toward the Roumanian.

"You must not take any notice of his lordship, captain," she said, trying in vain to speak lightly and to steady her voice. "You-you have known him for years, haven't you? You remember-he was always a little excitable-you used to amuse yourselves-you and your brother officers-by making him angry with one of the peasants, and seeing the men's terror of him? You remember," she reiterated, with the same pathetic effort at conciliation, "when we were at Tusnàd and you were in garrison at Sinaia, you used to motor over for luncheons and balls and—"