Books: The Puppet Crown
H >>
Harold MacGrath >> The Puppet Crown
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 |
22 |
23 |
24
"Pardon my rudeness," he said.
"What is your name, Monsieur," she asked calmly.
"It is Maurice Carewe. I am living in Vienna. I came to Bleiberg
for pleasure, but the first day has not been propitious," with
an apologetic glance at his dripping clothes.
"Maurice Carewe," slowly repeating the full name as if to
imprint it on her memory. "You are English?"
He said: "No; I am one of those dreadful Yankees you have
possibly read about."
Her teeth gleamed. "Yes, I have heard of them. But you do not
appear so very dreadful; though at present you are truly not at
your best. What is this--this Yankeeland like?"
"It would take me ever so long to tell you about it, it is such
a great country."
"You are a patriot!" clapping her hands. "No other country is so
fine and large and great as your own. But tell me, is it as
large as Austria?"
"Austria? You will not be offended if I tell you?"
"No."
"Well," with fun in his eyes, "it is my opinion that I could
hide Austria in my country so thoroughly that nobody would ever
be able to find it again." He wondered how she would accept this
statement.
She lifted her chin and laughed, and the bulldog wagged his tail,
as he always did when mirth touched her. He jumped up beside
Maurice and looked into his face. Maurice patted his broad head,
and he submitted. The girl looked rather surprised.
"Are you a magician?" she asked.
"Why?"
"Bull never makes friends."
"But I do," said Maurice; "perhaps he understands that, and
comes half-way. But it is rather strange to see a bulldog in
this part of the country."
"He was given to me, years ago, by an Englishman."
"That accounts for it." He was experiencing a deal of cold, but
he dared not mention it. "And may I ask your name?"
"Ah, Monsieur," shyly, "to tell you my name would be to frighten
you away."
"I am sure nothing could do that," he declared earnestly. Had he
been thinking of aught but her eyes he might have caught the
significance of her words. But, then, the cold was numbing.
She surveyed him with critical eyes. She saw a clean-shaven face,
brown, handsome and eager, merry blue eyes, a chin firm and
aggressive, a mischievous mouth, a forehead which showed the man
of thought, a slim athletic form which showed the man of action--
all of which combined to produce that indescribable air which
attaches itself to the gentleman.
"It is Alexia," she said, after some hesitation, watching him
closely to observe the effect.
But he was as far away as ever. "Alexia what?"
"Only Alexia," a faint coquetry stealing into her glance.
"O, then you are probably a maid?"
"Y--es. But you are disappointed?"
"No, indeed. You have put me more at ease. I suppose you serve
the princess?"
"Whenever I can," demurely.
He could not keep his eyes from hers. "They say that she is a
very lonely princess."
"So lonely." And the coquetry faded from her eyes as her glance
wandered waterward and became fixed on some object invisible and
far away. "Poor lonely princess!"
Maurice was growing colder and colder, but he did not mind. He
had wished for some woman to talk to; his wish had been granted.
"I feel sorry for her, if what they say is true," having no
other words.
"And what do they say, Monsieur?"
"That she and her father have been socially ostracized. I should
be proud to be her friend." Once the words were gone from him,
he saw their silliness. "A presumptuous statement," he added; "I
am an obscure foreigner."
"Friendship, Monsieur, is a thing we all should prize, all the
more so when it is disinterested."
He said rapidly, for fear she might hear his teeth chatter:
"They say she is very beautiful. Tell me what she is like."
"I am no judge of what men call beauty. As to her character, I
believe I may recommend that. She is good."
He was sure that merriment twitched the corners of her lips, and
he grew thoughtful. "Alexia. Is that not her Highness's name
also?"
"Yes, Monsieur; we have the same names." Her eyes fell, and she
began to finger the pages of the book.
"I am rested now," he said, with a sudden distrust. "I thank you."
"Come, then, and I will show you the way to the gate."
"I am sorry to have troubled you," he said.
She did not reply, and together they walked up the path. The
plants were dying, and the odor of decay hovered about them.
Splashes of rich vermilion crowned the treetops, leaves of gold,
russet and faded green rustled on the ground. The sun was gone
behind the hills, the lake was tinted with salmon and dun, and
Maurice (who honestly would have liked to run) was turning
purple, not from atmospheric effect, but from the partly
congealed state of his blood. Already he was thinking that his
adventure had turned out rather well. It was but a simple task
for a man of his imagination to construct a pretty romance, with
a kingdom for a background. A maid of honor, perhaps; no matter,
he would find means for future communication. A glamour had
fallen upon him.
As to the girl, who had scarce spoken to a dozen young men in
her life, she was comparing four faces; one of a visionary
character of which she had dreamed for ten years, and three
which had recently entered into the small circle of her affairs.
It was little pleasure to her to talk to those bald diplomats,
who were always saying what they did not mean, and meaning what
they did not say. And the young officers in the palace never
presumed to address her unless spoken to.
What a monotonous life it was! She was like a bird in a cage,
ever longing for freedom, not of the air, but of impulse. To be
permitted to yield to the impulses of the heart! What a
delightful thought that was! But she, she seemed apart from all
which was desirable to youth. Women courtesied to her, men
touched their hats; but homage was not what she wanted. To be
free, that was all; to come and go at will; to laugh and to sing.
But ever the specter of royal dignity walked beside her and
held her captive.
She was to wed a man on whom she looked with indifference, but
wed him she must; it was written. A toy of ambition, she was
neither more nor less. Ah, to be as her maids, not royal, but
free. Of the three new faces one belonged to the man whom she
was to wed; another was a tall, light-haired man whom she had
seen from her carriage; the last walked by her side. And somehow,
the visionary face, the faces of the man whom she was to wed
and the light-haired man suddenly grew indistinct. She glanced
from the corner of her eyes at Maurice, but meeting his glance,
in which lay something that caused her uneasiness, her gaze
dropped to the path.
"I shall be pleased to tell her Highness that a stranger, who
has not met her, who does not even suspect her rebel spirit,
desires to be her friend."
"O, Mademoiselle," he cried in alarm, "that desire was expressed
in confidence."
"I know it. It is for that very reason I wish her to know. Have
no fear, Monsieur;" and she laughed without mirth. "Her Highness
will not send you to prison"
Close at hand Maurice discovered a cuirassier, who, on seeing
them, saluted and stood attention. Maurice was puzzled.
"Lieutenant," said the girl, "Monsieur--Carewe?" turning to
Maurice.
"Yes, that is the name."
"Well, then, Monsieur Carewe has met with an accident; please
escort him to the gate. I trust you will not suffer any
inconvenience from the cold. Good evening, Monsieur Carewe."
She retraced her steps down the path. The bulldog followed. Once
he looked back at Maurice, and stopped as if undecided, then
went on. Maurice stared at the figure of the girl unfil it
vanished behind a clump of rose bushes.
"Well, Monsieur Carewe!" said the Lieutenant, a broad smile
under his mustache.
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. May I ask you who she is?"
"What! You do not know?"
Maurice suddenly saw light. "Her Royal Highness?" blankly.
"Her Royal Highness, God bless her!" cried the Lieutenant
heartily.
"Amen to that," replied Maurice, his agitation visible even to
the officer.
They arrived at the gate in silence. The cuirassier raised the
bar, touched his helmet, and said, with something like an amused
twinkle in his eyes: "Would Monsieur like to borrow my helmet
for a space?"
Maurice put up a hand to his water-soaked hair, and gave an
ejaculation of dismay. He had forgotten all about his hat, which
was by now, in-all probabilities, at the bottom of the lake.
"Curse the luck!" he said, in English.
"Curse the want of it, I should say!" was the merry rejoinder,
also in English.
Maurice threw back his head and laughed, and the cuirassier
caught the infection.
"However, there is some compensation for the hat," said the
cuirassier, straightening his helmet. "You are the first
stranger who has spoken to her Highness this many a day. Did the
dog take to your calves? Well, never mind; he has no teeth. It
was only day before yesterday that the Marshal swore he'd have
the dog shot. Poor dog! He is growing blind, too, or he'd never
have risked his gums on the Marshal, who is all shins. If you
will wait I will fetch you one of the archbishop's skull caps."
"Don't trouble yourself," laughed Maurice. "What I need is not a
hat, but a towel, and I'll get that at the hotel. George! I feel
so like an ass. What is your name, Lieutenant?"
"Von Mitter, Carl von Mitter, at your service. And you are
Monsieur Carewe."
"Of the American legation in Vienna. Thanks for your trouble."
"None at all. You had better hurry along; your nails are growing
black."
Maurice passed into the street. "Her Royal Highness!" he
muttered. "The crown princess, and I never suspected. Her name
is Alexia, and she serves the princess whenever she can! Maurice,
you are an ass!"
Having arrived at this conclusion, and brushing the dank hair
from his eyes, he thrust his hands into his oozing pockets, and
proceeded across the square toward the Continental, wondering if
there was a rear entrance. Happily the adventure absorbed all
his thoughts. He was quite unobservant of the marked attention
bestowed on him. Carriages filled the Strasse, and many persons
moved along the walks. It was the promenade hour. The water,
which still dripped from his clothes and trickled from his shoes,
left a conspicuous trail behind; and this alone, without the
absence of a hat, would have made him the object of amused and
wondering smiles.
A gendarme stared at him, but seeing that he walked straight,
said nothing. Maurice, however, was serenely unaware of what was
passing around him. He did not notice even the tall, broad-
shouldered man who, with a gun under his arm, brushed past him,
followed by a round-faced German over whose back was slung a
game-bag. The man with the gun was also oblivious of his
surroundings. He bumped into several persons, who scowled at him,
but offered no remonstrance after having taken his measure. The
German put his pipe into his pocket and advanced a step.
"The other gun, Herr," he said, "would have meant the boar."
"So it would, perhaps," was the reply.
"We've done pretty good work these two days," went on the German;
but as the other appeared not to have heard he fell to the rear
again, a sardonic smile flitting over his oily face.
When Maurice reached the hotel cafe he left an order for a
cognac to be sent to his room, whither he repaired at once. As
he got into dry clothes he mused.
"I wonder what sort of a man that crown prince is? Now, if I
were he, an army could not keep me away from Bleiberg. Either he
is no judge of beauty, or the peasant girls hereabout are
something extraordinary. Pshaw! a man always makes an ass of
himself on his wedding eve; the crown prince is simply starting
in early. I believe I'll hang on here till the wedding day; a
royal marriage is one of those things which I have yet to see. I
have a fortnight or more to knock around in. I should like to
know what the duchess will eventually do."
He sipped the last drop of the cognac and went down the stairs.
CHAPTER V
BEHIND THE PUPPET BOOTH
While the absent-minded hunter strode down toward the lower town,
and Maurice sipped his cognac, the king lay in his bed in the
palace and aimlessly fingered the counterpane. There was now no
beauty in his face. It was furrowed and pale, and an endless
fever burned in the sunken eyes--eyes like coals, which suddenly
flare before they turn to ash.
The archbishop nor the chancellor could see anything in the dim
corners of the royal bed chamber, but he could. It was the
mocking finger of death, and it was leveled at him. Spring had
come, and summer and autumn and winter, and spring again, but he
had not wandered through the green fields, except in dreams, and
the byways he loved knew him no more. Ah, to sit still like a
spectator and to see the world pass by! To be a part of it, and
yet not of it! To see the glory of strength and vigor just
beyond one's grasp, the staffs to lean on crumble to the touch,
and the stars of hope fade away one by one from the firmament of
one's dreams! Here was weariness for which there was no remedy.
Day by day time pressed him on toward the inevitable. No human
hand could stay him. He could think, but he could not act. He
could move, but he could not stand nor walk. And that philosophy
which had in other days sustained him was shattered and
threadbare. He was dead, yet he lived. Fate has so many delicate
ironies.
He had tried to make his people love him, only to acquire their
hate. He had reduced taxation, only to be scorned. He had made
the city beautiful, only to be cursed. A paralytic, the theme of
ribald verse, the butt of wineroom wits, the object of contumely
to his people, his beneficiaries!
The ingratitude of kings bites not half so deep as the
ingratitude of the people. Tears filled his eyes, and he fumbled
his lips. There were only two bright spots in his futile life.
The first was his daughter, who read to him, who was the first
in the morning to greet him and last at night to leave him. The
second was the evening hour when the archbishop and the
chancellor came in to discuss the affairs of state.
"And Prince Frederick has not yet been heard from?" was his
first inquiry.
"No, Sire," answered the chancellor. "The matter is altogether
mysterious. The police can find no trace of him. He left
Carnavia for Bleiberg; he stopped at Ehrenstein, directed his
suite to proceed; there, all ends. The ambassador from Carnavia
approached me to-day. He scouts the idea of a peasant girl, and
hinted at other things."
"Yes," said the king, "there is something behind all this.
Frederick is not a youth of peccadilloes. Something has happened
to him. But God send him safe and sound to us, so much depends
on him. And Alexia?"
"Says nothing," the archbishop answered, "a way with her when
troubled."
"And my old friend, Lord Fitzgerald?"
The prelate shook his head sadly. "We have just been made
acquainted with his death. God rest his kindly soul."
The king sank deeper into his pillows.
"But we shall hear from his son within a few days," continued
the prelate, taking the king's hand in his own. "My son, cease
to worry. Alexia's future is in good hands. I have confidence
that the public debt will be liquidated on the twentieth."
"Or renewed," said the chancellor. "Your Majesty must not forget
that Prince Frederick sacrifices his own private fortune to
adjust our indebtedness. That is the wedding gift which he
offers to her Highness. One way or the other, we have nothing to
fear."
"O!" cried the king, "I had forgotten that magnanimity. His
disappearance is no longer a mystery. He is dead."
His auditors could not repress the start which this declaration
caused them to make.
"Sire," said the chancellor, quietly, "princes are not
assassinated these days. Our worry is perhaps all needless. The
prince is young, and sometimes youth flings off the bridle and
runs away. But he loves her Highness, and the Carnavians are not
fickle."
The prelate and the statesman had different ideas in regard to
the peasant girl. To the prelate a woman was an unknown quantity,
and he frowned. The statesman, who had once been young, knew a
deal about woman, and he smiled.
"Sometimes, my friends," said the king, "I can see beyond the
human glance. I hear the crumbling of walls. But for that lonely
child I could die in peace. The crown I wear is of lead; God
hasten the day that lifts it from my brow." When the king spoke
again, he said: "And that insolent Von Rumpf is gone at last? I
am easier. He should have been sent about his business ten years
ago. What does Madame the duchess say?"
"So little," answered the chancellor, "that I begin to distrust
her silence. But she is a wise woman, though her years are but
five and twenty, and she will not make any foolish declaration
of war which would only redound to her chagrin."
"What is the fascination in these crowns of straw?" said the
king to the prelate. "Ah, my father, you strive for the crown to
come; and yet your earnest but misguided efforts placed this
earthly one on my head. You were ambitious for me."
"Nay," and the prelate bent his head. "It was self that spoke,
worldly aggrandizement. I wished --God forgive me!--to
administer not to the prince but to the king. I am punished. The
crown has broken your life. It was the passing glory of the
world; and I fell."
"And were not my eyes as dazzled by the crown as yours were by
the robes? Why did we leave the green hills of Osia? What
destiny writes, fate must unfold. And oh, the dreams I had of
being great! I am fifty-eight and you are seventy. And look; I
am a broken twig, and you tower above me like an ancient oak,
and as strong." To the chancellor he said: "And what is the
budget?"
"Sire, it is fairly quiet in the lower town. The native troops
have been paid, and all signs of discontent abated. The duchess
can do nothing but replace von Rumpf. The Marshal is a straw in
the wind; von Wallenstein and Mollendorf, I hold a sword above
their necks. Nearly half the Diet is with us. There has been
some strange meddling in the customs. Englishmen have brought me
complaints, through the British legation, regarding such
inspections as were never before heard of in a country at peace.
I consulted the chief inspector and he affirmed the matter. He
was under orders of the minister of police. It appears to me
that a certain Englishman is to be kept out of the country for
reasons well known to us. I have suspended police power over the
customs. Ah, Sire, if you would but agree with Monseigneur to
dismiss the cabinet."
"It is too late," said the king.
"There is only one flaw," continued the chancellor. "This flaw
is Colonel Beauvais, chief in command of the cuirassiers, who in
authority stands between the Marshal and General Kronau. I fear
him. Why? Instinct. He is too well informed of my projects for
one thing; he laughs when I suggest in military affairs. Who is
he? A Frenchman, if one may trust to a name; an Austrian, if one
may trust from whence he came, recommended by the premier
himself. He entered the cuirassiers as a Captain. You yourself,
Sire, made him what he is--the real military adviser of the
kingdom. But what of his past? No one knows, unless it be von
Wallenstein, his intimate. I, for one, while I may be wrong,
trust only those whose past I know, and even then only at
intervals."
"Colonel Beauvais?" murmured the king. "I am sure that you are
unjustly suspicious. How many times have I leaned on his stout
arm! He taught Alexia a thousand tricks of horse, so that to-day
she rides as no other woman in the kingdom rides. Would that I
stood half so straight and looked at the world half so
fearlessly. He is the first soldier in the kingdom."
"All men are honest in your Majesty's eyes," said the archbishop.
"All save the man within me," replied the king.
At this juncture the king's old valet came in with the evening
meal; and soon after the prelate and the chancellor withdrew
from the chamber.
"How long will he live?" asked the latter.
"A year; perhaps only till to-morrow. Ah, had he but listened to
me several years ago, all this would not have come to pass. He
would see nothing; he persisted in dreams. With the death of
Josef he was convinced that his enemies had ceased to be. Had he
listened, I should have dismissed the cabinet, and found enough
young blood to answer my purposes; I should have surrounded him
with a mercenary army two thousand strong; by now he should have
stood strongly entrenched.
"They have robbed him, but you and I were permitted to do
nothing. Where is the prosperity of which we formerly boasted? I,
too, hear crumbling walls. Yet, the son of this Englishman,
whose strange freak is still unaccountable, will come at the
appointed time; I know the race. He will renew the loan for
another ten years. What a fancy! Lord Fitzgerald was an
eccentric man. Given a purpose, he pursued it to the end,
neither love nor friendship, nor fear swerved him. Do you know
that he made a vow that Duke Josef should never sit on this
throne, nor his descendants? What were five millions to him, if
in giving them he realized the end? The king would never explain
the true cause of this Englishman's folly, but I know that it
was based on revenge, the cause of which also is a mystery. If
only the prince were here!"
"He will come; youth will be youth."
"Perhaps."
"You have never been young."
"Not in that particular sense to which you refer," dryly.
* * * * * *
In the chamber of finance Colonel Beauvais leaned over the desk
and perused the writing on a slip of paper which the minister
had given him. Enough daylight remained to permit the letters to
stand out legibly. When he had done the Colonel tossed back the
missive, and the minister tore it into shreds and dropped them
into the waste basket.
"So much for your pains," said Beauvais. "The spy, who has eaten
up ten thousand crowns, is not worth his salt. He has watched
this man Hamilton for two days, been his guide in the hills, and
yet learns nothing. And the rigor of the customs is a farce."
"This day," replied the minister, "the police lost its
jurisdiction over the customs. Complaints have been entered at
the British legation, which forwarded them to the chancellor."
"O ho!" The Colonel pulled his mustache.
"I warned you against this. The chancellor is a man to be
respected, whatever his beliefs. I warned you and Mollendorf of
the police what the result would be. The chancellor has a hard
hand when it falls. He was always bold; now he is more so since
he practically stands alone. In games of chance one always
should play close. You are in a hurry."
"I have waited six years."
"And I have waited fourteen."
"Well, then, I shall pass into the active. I shall watch this
Englishman myself. He is likely to prove the agent. Count, the
time for waiting is gone. If the debt is liquidated or renewed--
and there is Prince Frederick to keep in mind-- we shall have
played and lost. Disgrace for you; for me--well, perhaps there
is a power behind me too strong. The chancellor? Pouf! I have no
fear of him. But you who laugh at the archbishop--"
"He is too old."
"So you say. But he has dreams unknown to us. He has ceased to
act; why? He is waiting for the curtain to rise. Nothing escapes
him; he is letting us go to what end we will, only, if we do not
act at once, to draw us to a sudden halt. Now to this meddling
Englishman: we have offered him a million--five millions for
four. He laughs. He is a millionaire. With characteristic
bombast he declares that money has no charms. For six months,
since his father's death, we have hounded him, in vain. It is
something I can not understand. What is Leopold to these
Englishmen that they risk a princely fortune to secure him his
throne? Friendship? Bah, there is none."
"Not in France nor in Austria. But this man was an Englishman;
they leave legacies of friendship."
The Colonel walked to the window and looked down into the
gardens. He remained there for a time. Von Wallenstein eyed him
curiously. Presently the soldier returned to his seat.
"We are crossing a chasm; a man stands in our way; as we can not
go around him, we, being the stronger, push him aside. Eh?"
"You would not kill--" began the minister.
"Let us use the French meaning of the word `suppress.' And why
not? Ambition, wherever it goes, leaves a trail of blood. What
is a human life in this game we play? A leaf, a grain of sand."
"But, since the prince promises to liquidate the debt, what
matters it if the Englishman comes? It is all one and the same."
"Within twenty, nay, within fifteen days, what may not happen?"
"You are ambitious," said von Wallenstein, slyly.
"And who is not?"
"Is a Marshal's baton so much, then, above your present
position? You are practically the head of the army."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 |
22 |
23 |
24