Ralph Henry Barbour - "The New Boy at Hilltop"

Gustave Droz - "Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, v1"

Samuel Johnson - "Lives of the Poets: Gay, Thomson, Young etc."

Thucydides - "The History of the Peloponnesian War"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Puppet Crown

H >> Harold MacGrath >> The Puppet Crown



This etext was produced by Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.





THE PUPPET CROWN

by Harold MacGrath




TO THE MEMORY OF THAT GOOD FRIEND
AND
COMRADE OF MY YOUTH
MY FATHER




CONTENTS

I. THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK
II. THE COUP D'ETAT OF COUSIN JOSEF
III. AN EPISODE TEN YEARS AFTER
IV. AN ADVENTURE WITH ROYALTY
V. BEHIND THE PUPPET BOOTH
VI. MADEMOISELLE OF THE VEIL
VII. SOME DIALOGUE, AN SPRAINED ANKLE, AND SOME SOLDIERS
VIII. THE RED CHATEAU
IX. NOTHING MORE SERIOUS THAN A HOUSE PARTY
X. BEING OF LONG RIDES, MAIDS, KISSES AND MESSAGES
XI. THE DENOUEMENT
XII. WHOM THE GODS DESTROY AND A FEW OTHERS
XIII. BEING OF COMPLICATIONS NOT RECKONED ON
XIV. QUI M'AIME, AIME MON CHIEN
XV. IN WHICH FORTUNE BECOMES CARELESS AND PRODIGAL
XVI. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ARCHBISHOP'S PLACE AND AFTER
XVII. SOME PASSAGES AT ARMS
XVIII. A MINOR CHORD AND A CHANGE OF MOVEMENT
XIX. A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT
XX. THE LAST STAND OF A BAD SERVANT
XXI. A COURT FETE AT THE RED CHATEAU
XXII. IN WHICH MAURICE RECURS TO OFFENBACH
XXIII. A GAME OF POKER AND THE STAKES
XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE RED CHATEAU
XXV. THE FORTUNES OF WAR
XXVI. A PAGE FORM TASSO
XXVII. WORMWOOD AND LEES
XXVIII. INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA
XXIX. INTO STILL WATERS AND SILENCE




Ah Love! Could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's desire!

- Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam




CHAPTER I

THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK

The king sat in his private garden in the shade of a potted
orange tree, the leaves of which were splashed with brilliant
yellow. It was high noon of one of those last warm sighs of
passing summer which now and then lovingly steal in between the
chill breaths of September. The velvet hush of the mid-day hour
had fallen.

There was an endless horizon of turquoise blue, a zenith
pellucid as glass. The trees stood motionless; not a shadow
stirred, save that which was cast by the tremulous wings of a
black and purple butterfly, which, near to his Majesty, fell,
rose and sank again. From a drove of wild bees, swimming hither
and thither in quest of the final sweets of the year, came a low
murmurous hum, such as a man sometimes fancies he hears while
standing alone in the vast auditorium of a cathedral.

The king, from where he sat, could see the ivy-clad towers of
the archbishop's palace, where, in and about the narrow windows,
gray and white doves fluttered and plumed themselves. The garden
sloped gently downward till it merged into a beautiful lake
called the Werter See, which, stretching out several miles to
the west, in the heart of the thick-wooded hills, trembled like
a thin sheet of silver.

Toward the south, far away, lay the dim, uneven blue line of the
Thalian Alps, which separated the kingdom that was from the
duchy that is, and the duke from his desires. More than once the
king leveled his gaze in that direction, as if to fathom what
lay behind those lordly rugged hills.

There was in the air the delicate odor of the deciduous leaves
which, every little while, the king inhaled, his eyes half-
closed and his nostrils distended. Save for these brief moments,
however, there rested on his countenance an expression of
disenchantment which came of the knowledge of a part ill-played,
an expression which described a consciousness of his unfitness
and inutility, of lethargy and weariness and distaste.

To be weary is the lot of kings, it is a part of their royal
prerogative; but it is only a great king who can be weary
gracefully. And Leopold was not a great king; indeed, he was
many inches short of the ideal; but he was philosophical, and by
the process of reason he escaped the pitfalls which lurk in the
path of peevishness.

To know the smallness of the human atom, the limit of desire,
the existence of other lives as precious as their own, is not
the philosophy which makes great kings. Philosophy engenders
pity; and one who possesses that can not ride roughshod over men,
and that is the business of kings.

As for Leopold, he would rather have wandered the byways of Kant
than studied royal etiquette. A crown had been thrust on his
head and a scepter into his hand, and, willy-nilly, he must wear
the one and wield the other. The confederation had determined
the matter shortly before the Franco-Prussian war.

The kingdom that was, an admixture of old France and newer
Austria, was a gateway which opened the road to the Orient, and
a gateman must be placed there who would be obedient to the will
of the great travelers, were they minded to pass that way. That
is to say, the confederation wanted a puppet, and in Leopold
they found a dreamer, which served as well. That glittering bait,
a crown, had lured him from his peaceful Osian hills and
valleys, and now he found that his crown was of straw and his
scepter a stick.

He longed to turn back, for his heart lay in a tomb close to his
castle keep, but the way back was closed. He had sold his
birthright. So he permitted his ministers to rule his kingdom
how they would, and gave himself up to dreams. He had been but a
cousin of the late king, whereas the duke of the duchy that is
had been a brother. But cousin Josef was possessed of red hair
and a temper which was redder still, and, moreover, a
superlative will, bending to none, and laughing at those who
tried to bend him.

He would have been a king to the tip of his fiery hair; and it
was for this very reason that his subsequent appeals for justice
and his rights fell on unheeding ears. The confederation feared
Josef; therefore they dispossessed him. Thus Leopold sat on the
throne, while his Highness bit his nails and swore, impotent to
all appearances.

Leopold leaned forward from his seat. In his hand he held a
riding stick with which he drew shapeless pictures in the yellow
gravel of the path. His brows were drawn over contemplative eyes,
and the hint of a sour smile lifted the corners of his lips.
Presently the brows relaxed, and his gaze traveled to the
opposite side of the path, where the British minister sat in the
full glare of the sun.

In the middle of the path, as rigid as a block of white marble,
reposed a young bulldog, his moist black nose quivering under
the repeated attacks of a persistent insect. It occurred to the
king that there was a resemblance between the dog and his master,
the Englishman. The same heavy jaws were there, the same
fearless eyes, the same indomitable courage for the prosecution
of a purpose.

A momentary regret passed through him that he had not been
turned from a like mold. Next his gaze shifted to the end of the
path, where a young Lieutenant stood idly kicking pebbles, his
cuirass flaming in the dazzling sunshine. Soon the drawing in
the gravel was resumed.

The British minister made little of the three-score years which
were closing in on him, after the manner of an army besieging a
citadel. He was full of animal exuberance, and his eyes, a
trifle faded, it must be admitted, were still keenly alive and
observant. He was big of bone, florid of skin, and his hair--
what remained of it--was wiry and bleached. His clothes,
possibly cut from an old measure, hung loosely about the girth--
a sign that time had taken its tithe. For thirty-five years he
had served his country by cunning speeches and bursts of fine
oratory; he had wandered over the globe, lulling suspicions here
and arousing them there, a prince of the art of diplomacy.

He had not been sent here to watch this kingdom. He was touching
a deeper undercurrent, which began at St. Petersburg and moved
toward Central Asia, Turkey and India, sullenly and irresistibly.
And now his task was done, and another was to take his place,
to be a puppet among puppets. He feared no man save his valet,
who knew his one weakness, the love of a son on whom he had shut
his door, which pride forbade him to open. This son had chosen
the army, when a fine diplomatic career had been planned--a
small thing, but it sufficed. Even now a word from an humbled
pride would have reunited father and son, but both refused to
speak this word.

The diplomat in turn watched the king as he engaged in the
aimless drawing. His meditation grew retrospective, and his
thoughts ran back to the days when he first befriended this
lonely prince, who had come to England to learn the language and
manners of the chill islanders. He had been handsome enough in
those days, this Leopold of Osia, gay and eager, possessing an
indefinable charm which endeared him to women and made him
respected of men. To have known him then, the wildest stretch of
fancy would never have placed him on this puppet throne,
surrounded by enemies, menaced by his adopted people, rudderless
and ignorant of statecraft.

"Fate is the cup," the diplomat mused, "and the human life the
ball, and it's toss, toss, toss, till the ball slips and falls
into eternity." Aloud he said, "Your Majesty seems to be well
occupied."

"Yes," replied the king, smiling. "I am making crowns and
scratching them out again-- usurping the gentle pastime of their
most Christian Majesties, the confederation. A pretty bauble is
a crown, indeed--at a distance. It is a fine thing to wear one--
in a dream. But to possess one in the real, and to wear it day
by day with the eternal fear of laying it down and forgetting
where you put it, or that others plot to steal it, or that you
wear it dishonestly--Well, well, there are worse things than a
beggar's crust."

"No one is honest in this world, save the brute," said the
diplomat, touching the dog with his foot. "Honesty is
instinctive with him, for he knows no written laws. The gold we
use is stamped with dishonesty, notwithstanding the beautiful
mottoes; and so long as we barter and sell for it, just so long
we remain dishonest. Yes, you wear your crown dishonestly but
lawfully, which is a nice distinction. But is any crown worn
honestly? If it is not bought with gold, it is bought with lies
and blood. Sire, your great fault, if I may speak, is that you
haven't continued to be dishonest. You should have filled your
private coffers, but you have not done so, which is a strange
precedent to establish. You should have increased taxation, but
you have diminished it; you should have forced your enemy's hand
four years ago, when you ascended the throne, but you did not;
and now, for all you know, his hand may be too strong. Poor,
dishonest king! When you accepted this throne, which belongs to
another, you fell as far as possible from moral ethics. And now
you would be honest and be called dull, and dream, while your
ministers profit and smile behind your back. I beg your
Majesty's pardon, but you have always requested that I should
speak plainly."

The king laughed; he enjoyed this frank friend. There was an
essence of truth and sincerity in all he said that encouraged
confidence.

"Indeed, I shall be sorry to have you go tomorrow," he said, "for
I believe if you stayed here long enough you would truly make a
king of me. Be frank, my friend, be always frank; for it is only
on the base of frankness that true friendship can rear itself."

"You are only forty-eight," said the Englishman; "you are young."

"Ah, my friend," replied the king with a tinge of sadness, "it
is not the years that age us; it is how we live them. In the
last four years I have lived ten. To-day I feel so very old! I
am weary of being a king. I am weary of being weary, and for
such there is no remedy. Truly I was not cut from the pattern of
kings; no, no. I am handier with a book than with a scepter; I'd
liever be a man than a puppet, and a puppet I am--a figurehead
on the prow of the ship, but I do not guide it. Who care for me
save those who have their ends to gain? None, save the archbishop,
who yet dreams of making a king of me. And these are not my people
who surround me; when I die, small care. I shall have left in the
passing scarce a finger mark in the dust of time."

"Ah, Sire, if only you would be cold, unfriendly, avaricious. Be
stone and rule with a rod of iron. Make the people fear you,
since they refuse to love you; be stone."

"You can mold lead, but you can not sculpture it; and I am lead."

"Yes; not only the metal, but the verb intransitive. Ah, could
the fires of ambition light your soul!"

"My soul is a blackened grate of burnt-out fires, of which only
a coal remains."

And the king turned in his seat and looked across the crisp
green lawns to the beds of flowers, where, followed by a maid at
a respectful distance, a slim young girl in white was cutting
the hardy geraniums, dahlias and seed poppies.

"God knows what her legacy will be!"

"It is for you to make it, Sire."

Both men continued to remark the girl. At length she came toward
them, her arms laden with flowers. She was at the age of ten,
with a beautiful, serious face, which some might have called
prophetic. Her hair was dark, shining like coal and purple, and
gossamer in its fineness; her skin had the blue-whiteness of
milk; while from under long black lashes two luminous brown eyes
looked thoughtfully at the world. She smiled at the king, who
eyed her fondly, and gave her unengaged hand to the Englishman,
who kissed it.

"And how is your Royal Highness this fine day? he asked, patting
the hand before letting it go.

"Will you have a dahlia, Monsieur?" With a grave air she
selected a flower and slipped it through his button-hole.

"Does your Highness know the language of the flowers?" the
Englishman asked.

"Dahlias signify dignity and elegance; you are dignified,
Monsieur, and dignity is elegance."

"Well!" cried the Englishman, smiling with pleasure; "that is
turned as adroitly as a woman of thirty."

"And am I not to have one?" asked the king, his eyes full of
paternal love and pride.

"They are for your Majesty's table," she answered.

"Your Majesty!" cried the king in mimic despair. "Was ever a
father treated thus? Your Majesty! Do you not know, my dear,
that to me 'father' is the grandest title in the world?"

Suddenly she crossed over and kissed the king on the cheek, and
he held her to him for a moment.

The bulldog had risen, and was wagging his tail the best he knew
how. If there was any young woman who could claim his unreserved
admiration, it was the Princess Alexia. She never talked
nonsense to him in their rambles together, but treated him as he
should be treated, as an animal of enlightenment.

"And here is Bull," said the princess, tickling the dog's nose
with a scarlet geranium.

"Your Highness thinks a deal of Bull?" said the dog's master.

"Yes, Monsieur, he doesn't bark, and he seems to understand all
I say to him."

The dog looked up at his master as if to say: "There now, what
do you think of that?"

"To-morrow I am going away," said the diplomat, "and as I can
not very well take Bull with me, I give him to you."

The girl's eyes sparkled. "Thank you, Monsieur, shall I take him
now?"

"No, but when I leave your father. You see, he was sent to me by
my son who is in India. I wish to keep him near me as long as
possible. My son, your Highness, was a bad fellow. He ran away
and joined the army against my wishes, and somehow we have never
got together again. Still, I've a sneaking regard for him, and I
believe he hasn't lost all his filial devotion. Bull is, in a
way, a connecting link."

The king turned again to the gravel pictures. These Englishmen
were beyond him in the matter of analysis. Her Royal Highness
smiled vaguely, and wondered what this son was like. Once more
she smiled, then moved away toward the palace. The dog, seeing
that she did not beckon, lay down again. An interval of silence
followed her departure. The thought of the Englishman had
traveled to India, the thought of the king to Osia, where the
girl's mother slept. The former was first to rouse.

"Well, Sire, let us come to the business at hand, the subject of
my last informal audience. It is true, then, that the consols
for the loan of five millions of crowns are issued to-day, or
have been, since the morning is passed?"

"Yes, it is true. I am well pleased. Jacobi and Brother have
agreed to place them at face value. I intend to lay out a park
for the public at the foot of the lake. That will demolish two
millions and a half. The remainder is to be used in city
improvements and the reconstruction of the apartments in the
palace, which are too small. If only you knew what a pleasure
this affords me! I wish to make my good city of Bleiberg a thing
of beauty --parks, fountains, broad and well paved streets."

"The Diet was unanimous in regard to this loan?"

"In fact they suggested it, and I was much in favor."

"You have many friends there, then?"

"Friends?" The king's face grew puzzled, and its animation faded
away. "None that I know. This is positively the first time we
ever agreed about anything."

"And did not that strike you as rather singular?"

"Why, no."

"Of course, the people are enthusiastic, considering the old
rate of taxation will be renewed?" The diplomat reached over and
pulled the dog's ears.

"So far as I can see," answered the king, who could make nothing
of this interrogatory.

"Which, if your Majesty will pardon me, is not very far beyond
your books."

"I have ministers."

"Who can see farther than your Majesty has any idea."

"Come, come, my friend," cried the king good-naturedly; "but a
moment gone you were chiding me because I did nothing. I may not
fill my coffers as you suggested, but I shall please my eye,
which is something. Come; you have something to tell me."

"Will your Majesty listen?"

"I promise."

"And to hear?"

"I promise not only to listen, but to hear," laughing; "not only
to hear, but to think. Is that sufficient?"

"For three years," began the Englishman, "I have been England's
representative here. As a representative I could not meddle with
your affairs, though it was possible to observe them. To-day I
am an unfettered agent of self, and with your permission I shall
talk to you as I have never talked before and never shall again."

The diplomat rose from his seat and walked up and down the path,
his hands clasped behind his back, his chin in his collar. The
bulldog yawned, stretched himself, and followed his master,
soberly and thoughtfully. After a while the Englishman returned
to his chair and sat down. The dog gravely imitated him. He
understood, perhaps better than the king, his master's mood.
This pacing backward and forward was always the forerunner of
something of great importance.

During the past year he had been the repository of many a secret.
Well, he knew how to keep one. Did not he carry a secret which
his master would have given much to know? Some one in far away
India, after putting him into the ship steward's care, had
whispered: "You tell the governor that I think just as much of
him as ever." He had made a desperate effort to tell it the
moment he was liberated from the box, but he had not yet
mastered that particular language which characterized his
master's race.

"To begin with," said the diplomat, "what would your Majesty say
if I should ask permission to purchase the entire loan?"




CHAPTER II


THE COUP D'ETAT OF COUSIN JOSEF

The king, who had been leaning forward, fell back heavily in his
seat, his eyes full wide and his mouth agape. Then, to express
his utter bewilderment, he raised his hands above his head and
limply dropped them.

"Five millions of crowns?" he gasped.

"Yes; what would your Majesty say to such a proposition?"
complacently.

"I should say," answered the king, with a nervous laugh, "that
my friend had lost his senses, completely and totally."

"The fact is," the Englishman declared, "they were never keener
nor more lucid than at this present moment."

"But five millions!"

"Five millions; a bagatelle," smiling.

"Certainly you can not be serious, and if you were, it is out of
the question. Death of my life! The kingdom would be at my ears.
The people would shout that I was selling out to the English,
that I was putting them into the mill to grind for English sacks."

"Your Majesty will recollect that the measure authorizing this
loan was rather a peculiar one. Five millions were to be
borrowed indiscriminately, of any man or body of men willing to
advance the money on the securities offered. First come, first
served, was not written, but it was implied. It was this which
roused my curiosity, or cupidity, if you will."

"I can not recollect that the bill was as you say," said the
king, frowning.

"I believe you. When the bill came to you, you were not expected
to recollect anything but the royal signature. Have you read
half of what you have signed and made law? No. I am serious.
What is it to you or to the people, who secures this public
mortgage, so long as the money is forthcoming? I desire to
purchase at face value the twenty certificates."

"As a representative of England?"

The diplomat smiled. The king's political ignorance was well
known. "As a representative of England, Sire, I could not
purchase the stubs from which these certificates are cut. And
then, as I remarked, I am an unfettered agent of self. The
interest at two per cent. will be a fine income on a lump of
stagnant money. Even in my own country, where millionaires are
so numerous as to be termed common, I am considered a rich man.
My personal property, aside from my estates, is five times the
amount of the loan. A mere bagatelle, if I may use that
pleasantry."

"Impossible, impossible!" cried the king, starting to his feet,
while a line of worry ran across his forehead. He strode about
impatiently slapping his boots with the riding stick. "It is
impossible."

"Why do you say impossible, Sire?"

"I can not permit you to put in jeopardy a quarter of a million
pounds," forgetting for the moment that he was powerless.

"Aha!" the diplomat cried briskly. "There is, then, beneath your
weariness and philosophy, a fear?"

"A fear?" With an effort the king smoothed the line from his
forehead. "Why should there be fear?"

"Why indeed, when our cousin Josef--" He stopped and looked
toward the mountains.

"Well?" abruptly.

"I was thinking what a fine coup de maitre it would be for his
Highness to gather in all these pretty slips of parchment given
under the hand of Leopold."

"Small matter if he should. I should pay him." The king sat down.
"And it is news to me that Josef can get together five millions."

"He has friends, rich and powerful friends."

"No matter, I should pay him."

"Are you quite sure?"

"What do you mean?"

"The face of the world changes in the course of ten years. Will
there be five millions in your treasury ten years hence?"

"The wealth of my kingdom is not to be questioned," proudly,
"nor its resources."

"But in ten years, with the ministers you have?" The Englishman
shrugged doubtfully. "Why have you not formed a new cabinet of
younger men? Why have you retained those of your predecessor,
who are your natural enemies? You have tried and failed."

The expression of weariness returned to the king's face. He knew
that all this was but a preamble to something of deeper
significance. He anticipated what was forming in the other's
mind, but he wished to avoid a verbal declaration. O, he knew
that there was a net of intrigue enmeshing him, but it was so
very fine that he could not pick up the smallest thread whereby
to unravel it. Down in his soul he felt the shame of the
knowledge that he dared not. A dreamer, rushing toward the
precipice, would rather fall dreaming than waken and struggle
futilely.

"My friend," he said, finally, sighing, "proceed. I am all
attention."

"I never doubted your Majesty's perspicacity. You do not know,
but you suspect, what I am about to disclose to you. My hope is
that, when I am done, your Majesty will throw Kant and the rest
of your philosophers out of the window. The people are sullen at
the mention of your name, while they cheer another. There is an
astonishing looseness about your revenues. The reds and the
socialists plot for revolution and a republic, which is a thin
disguise for a certain restoration. Your cousin the duke visits
you publicly twice each year. He has been in the city a week at
a time incognito, yet your minister of police seems to know
nothing." The speaker ceased, and fondled the dahlia in his
button-hole.

The king, noting the action, construed it as the subtle old
diplomat intended he should. "Yes, yes! I am a king only for her
sake. Go on. Tell me all."

"The archbishop and the chancellor are the only friends you
possess. The Marshal, from personal considerations merely,
remains neutral. Your army, excepting the cuirassiers, are
traitors to your house. The wisest thing you have done was to
surround yourself with this mercenary body, whom you call the
royal cuirassiers, only, instead of three hundred, you should
have two thousand. Self-interest will make them true to you. You
might find some means to pay them, for they would be a good
buffer between you and your enemies. The president of the Diet
and the members are passing bills which will eventually
undermine you. How long it will take I can not say. But this
last folly, the loan, which you could have got on without, caps
the climax. The duke was in the city last week unknown to you.
Your minister of finance is his intimate. This loan was a
connivance of them all. Why ten years, when it could easily be
liquidated in five? I shall tell you. The duke expects to force
you into bankruptcy within that time, and when the creditor
demands and you can not pay, you will be driven from here in
disgrace.