Dr. Eszterhazy looked a bit doubtful as the signor helped place the case in the center of the ’Gondola, but Professor Bronk, with a quick appraising glance, said, very briefly, “Ballast.” And returned in controlled frenzy to fastening wires and aerolines, and to spreading out maps and examining various pieces of scientific equipment. “Laaaa . . .’ sang Mme. Dombrovski, hand on bosom. She waved to what was now a large crowd straining at the fence; the crowd waved back and cheered.
Another figure moved slightly. “Well, Baron Burgenblitz ... do you come along?” asked Eszterhazy.
“Try to prevent me! — try. In regard to the source material of your pretty red balloons, my patronage has supplied much of it.” The Baron settled himself into a pair of the bearskin lap-robes, one of which he slung over his shoulders, applied his pipe to his tobacco-pouch, and growled.
It was at this moment that Sgr. Gian-Giacomo Pagliacci-Espresso, glancing around, said, with a slightly nervous tremor, “Pray inform the sailors be careful with ropes, else this ... this cosa ... might accidentally go,” his eyes rolled, he seemed suddenly to obtain a better grasp of situation, “UP!” He leaped over the side, and from the terra firma reached forMme. Dombrovski; but the abrupt loss of his weight, plus the greatly increased swelling of the red silk balloons, caused the Autogondola-Invention to strain against the lines held by the sailors, who — taking his last exclamation as a signal — stepped back smartly and released them. From inside came cries of annoyance, perhaps alarm, but these ceased abruptly. There was much else to do.
. The splendid scarlet Autogondola-Invention went soaring up into the misty heavens. Gronk, at the scientific instruments, called out courses, Eszterhazy plied the wheel which controlled the tail- and wing-vanes, Pard Powell from time to time stuck his finger in his mouth and held it up to test the breeze, from time to time suggesting slight changes in direction so as to take best advantage of prevailing winds; the engine, as engines will, went choog-choog, chuff-chuff;[1] and Katinka Ivanovna, waving the tri-national flag, holding now on to one rope and now another, semi-incessantly sang out, “Onward, great-glorious-successful Scythia- Pannonia-Transbalkania, hairess to thee future weesdom of the ages!” From time to time she avoided hoarseness by sipping from a fiasco of the produce of Sgr. Pagliacci-Espresso’s winery; and, now and then, with a merry gesture, she shared it with the others; when it or its successors was empty she tossed it negligently aside... on one occasion so much so that it went clear over the side, and, hurtling through the clouds, picked up impetus enough to pierce the surface of a certain farm-field known for its dryness, where at once and in the presence of the farmer and his farm-boy a fountain spurted. A hundred years later people were still dipping hankies into it in the belief that it cured warts.
For long periods they flew through clouds and all was grey, then for long periods the skies cleared and down below they saw the land as though cut out of scraps of velvet by some elven artist, fields of vari-colored crops green and greener and yellow and red; here and there a toy-town and its fairy towers. Now and then they were above the clouds and looked down upon fleecy layers towards which, almost, it seemed they might descend and walk upon.
It was at one such moment that Burgenblitz of Blitzenburg said, “We are nearer to Heaven than we were.”
Washington Parthenopius Pard Powell silently handed over the peace pipe. The Baron silently took it.
The Conjoint Chiefs of Staff of the Combined Ruritanian-Graustarker Manoeuvres Near or In The Authorized Areas (Authorized sounded ever so much nicer — and safer — than Disputed), the Margrave GrauHeim and the Prince Rupert-Michael, were feeling very pleased with each other. There had been no sign of a sign from Scythia-Pannonia- Transbalkania, no sign was really to be expected from Turkey (the Sick Man of Europe was still very sick; Abdul Hamid’s method of preparing himself for the throne was to take courses in mathematics, marksmanship, and magic), and God was in Heaven and the Czar was far away. The Conjoint Chiefs stood at a table looking at a map which a century (and then some) of boundary rectifications has rendered unrecognizable; but as they did not know this, they continued feeling very pleased. The CCs’ uniforms had been ordered from the best military (or perhaps theatrical) tailors in Potsdam; with pickelhaube helmets, long overcoats which belted almost under the armpits and reached almost to the insteps, boots with huge spurs, heads shaven, and long goatees and long moustaches upturned, they looked frightful indeed: and when they considered this, they felt even more pleased. The cookfires had been lit and appeared very welcome, too, what with the evening dews and damps. It was then that the two CCs began to look around; so did the soldiers. “Odd sound,” said the Margrave. “Sounds like what they call a locomotive engine; heard one once,” said the Prince. Both together they said, “None here.” Indeed there was not, and as there were yet none in either Graustark or Ruritania either, hardly any of the soldiers had ever seen or heard one. But the strange noise still persisted, like the transpirations or suspirations of an alien creature; then the mists parted, the troops gave a great shuddering cry, and the great setting sun bathed with its dull rosy rays the . . . the what? There it was! . . . but what was it?
Answer was immediate. A young but zealous and excitable cavalry- corporal cried, “It be the Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun,” possibly a reference to Katinka Ivanovna in her orange outfit of satin and gauze; “Armageddon! The saints be casting down their crowns a-nigh the glassy sea; re-PENT!” And, casting down his brimless cap, he commenced beating his brow ritually and rhythmically with his fist as he chanted an immensely long Recital of Remorse, ranging from Assembling to Commit Fornication with Two Other Stable-boys and a Tavern Wench; down to Zedoary, a Great Quantity of Which I Snitched From an Apothecary to Buy Booze.
Pandemonium in the ranks.
Bearing down at them from an altitude as yet unestimated was A Thing, hideous beyond belief, something like (were it possible) an immense aerial insect, although with more body sections than any insect could possibly have, or had it? was that its giant thorax moving in and out? was it merely the wind? were those things jutting out here and there wings?
Or were — could they be —fins? Was this all some dreadful dream in the declining day? Was that a Scythian-Pannonian-Transbalkanian flag? Oh Hell and Purgation yes it was! — also a perfectly dreadful voice from the heavens barked orders at them and as they milled around in confusion and in terror, The Thing swooped and swerved and darted and hissed at them with its scalding breath —
Military marksmanship had nowhere included shooting at a' steam- propelled Autogondola way up in the middle of the sky, nor had anyone been trained to fire at a 35-foot long bird; and though Margrave Grau- heim was an excellent stag-hunter, he had never had occasion to hunt a giant stag 100 feet above him: who had?