CHAPTER XIHERMENGARDE DROPS A HINT
IfDorothea had consulted some of those familiar with the Court, as to which of her various friends she would be least wise to trust in, the answer in almost every case would have been—the Princess Hermengarde. Nevertheless, it was to the Princess she fled from the new complexities which beset her life at the forester’s lodge.
Though far from expecting her invitation to be so promptly accepted, Hermengarde had been careful to leave instructions that Dorothea should be admitted to her at any time when she might present herself. When, therefore, the exhausted and trembling girl arrived at the Castle after her flight through the forest, she found no difficulties in the way of her entrance.
The hour was half-past ten, which was not quite so late in the palace as in the cottage, and Hermengarde, when Dorothea was announced, was sitting alone with her son, whom she was trying to interest in a game of draughts. In this her success had been doubtful, for the boy was staring blankly at the board, where two solitary men, who formed the survivors of his ownarmy, were being pursued to their doom by a whole troop of kings in his mother’s service. He was yawning audibly between the moves, and welcomed the interruption caused by the new arrival by a loud sigh of relief.
“Let the Fräulein come in here,” said Hermengarde to the page in attendance. And Dorothea entered.
As she came in, Ernest turned round in natural curiosity to see what she was like. The result seemed to be satisfactory, for he got up and offered her his hand, to the surprise of his mother.
Dorothea, unused to the ways of Courts, took the young Prince’s hand unaffectedly in her own, and by that simple act confirmed the good impression.
“This is my son, Prince Ernest Leopold,” observed Hermengarde, with the slightest possible emphasis on the “Prince.”
Dorothea shrank back a little and blushed. The Princess good-naturedly reassured her.
“But I hope you will be good friends. Sit down here by me, and tell me why you have come. Ernest you can say good night.”
The boy obeyed, and withdrew with more reluctance than he generally showed at quitting his mother’s presence.
“He is a little shy for his age,” remarked the Princess, as the door closed behind him; “but no doubt he will grow out of it before long. You would hardly take him for sixteen, would you?”
Dorothea made some suitable reply, and began to feel more at ease under the influence of this homely talk.
“And now, my dear child, tell me what is the matter?” said Hermengarde, patting the girl’s hand affectionately.
By way of answer Dorothea poured out the story of the day’s events, the hints of a royal marriage dropped by Johann, the promise which she had given to Maximilian to try and reciprocate his love, and, finally, the coarse attempt of her father to take the control of her conduct. The Princess listened, watching her with steady eyes, and nodding occasionally to herself. At the close Dorothea’s voice began to tremble, and she finished off with a broken appeal to her protectress.
“I have no one to tell me what to do,” she said. “All this has come upon me so suddenly. Two days ago I was like a child, without a care in the world, except when one of the hens laid an egg where I could not find it. And now there is nothing but trouble and difficulty, and I feel as if I should like to run away and hide myself. And you said I might come to you, and, oh, if you will only help me—”
She broke down, sobbing. Hermengarde extended her arm, and drew the girl to her bosom.
“I will help you, my dear,” she said, touched, apparently in spite of herself, by the young girl’s simple confidence in her.
“I think I see something in all this that you do not see yourself yet,” the Princess remarked presently.“But, in the meanwhile, I promise that you shall not marry the King unless you really wish it.”
Dorothea murmured her thanks.
“Still, as you have given your word, I don’t think you must break off with him just at present. Stay here with me for a time, and see how a Court life suits you. My nephew will have plenty of opportunities of meeting you here, and in time everything will arrange itself quietly, without any trouble.”
So the compact was sealed between the two, and Dorothea remained.
She found her new position rather trying at first, but it was made as easy for her as possible by the thoughtfulness of Hermengarde, who kept her close to herself, and only suffered her to make the acquaintance of one or two of the ladies in attendance.
Among these was the Chancellor’s daughter, whom Hermengarde apparently had no desire to keep in the dark. Dorothea, of course, had no knowledge of the former relations between the Lady von Sigismark and Maximilian, but Gertrude was on the defensive from the first, against the girl whom she considered in the light of a rival.
Matters were not improved in this quarter by the rather obvious preference which Prince Ernest showed for the peasant girl; and it taxed all his mother’s resources to keep up the fiction of an intimacy between Gertrude and the Prince. So unlike his mother did the boy show himself in everything, and so different from all that she sought to make him, that there weretimes when, in her despair, she was ready to admit to herself that Von Stahlen’s designation of him as “The Changeling” was not altogether wide of the mark.
Although Dorothea’s installation in her household had been so quietly managed, the Princess did not, of course, expect it to remain a secret for many hours. Palaces are built of glass, and Hermengarde had taken her measures with a view to that publicity which she affected to shun.
She was, therefore, perfectly prepared for the visit of the Chancellor, whom she received with easy cordiality.
“You are not looking quite yourself to-day, Count,” she observed, after he had seated himself at her invitation. “I hope it is not true that you have been harassed in the cabinet by the King’s Socialist friend?”
The Count had not expected this attack. He turned his eyes away as he responded cautiously—
“The King is of a generous disposition, and no doubt it carries him farther than is quite prudent at times. However, I am happy to say that his Majesty and I understand each other. We have just had a conversation, at which the Socialist, as your Royal Highness terms him, wasnotpresent, and I think I may say that there is no immediate cause for anxiety in that direction.”
Hermengarde permitted a smile of scorn to show itself for one moment, before she rejoined—
“Indeed! I congratulate you. I was led to fear, from what I heard, that the King had taken up a ratheralarming attitude. But perhaps you have been able to bring him to see things in a more rational light. Has Herr Mark been sent away?”
“No, Madam; I cannot say he has. But I have heard,” he pursued, catching at the opening she had given him, “of the arrival of a person whose presence I should have thought you would have considered equally embarrassing.”
“You mean the Fräulein Gitten, of course,” remarked the Princess, with composure. “Has the King been informed of it?”
“Not yet, I believe. But of course he must hear of it very soon, if she remains. That is why I have ventured to present myself before you. In the light of your Royal Highness’s own remarks a couple of days ago, it is surely a rather serious matter.”
He spoke deprecatingly. Hermengarde sat up and looked him in the face.
“It is a serious matter,” she said boldly. “It is serious for you, and for me, and for all of us—far more serious than you think. Have the goodness to recollect what you said on the last occasion when we discussed the King’s relations with this girl. Even then I hinted to you that it was no mere passing intrigue; but you were disinclined to share my view.”
“True, Madam, and I should be equally disinclined now; but the step which you have taken in introducing her into the palace, where she must constantly come under the King’s eye, makes the affair more important.”
“I think not. As far as my nephew is concerned, it matters little whether he meets her here in my apartments, or in her father’s cottage. On the whole, perhaps, he will have fewer opportunities of seeing her now than before. The difference is this, that the affair must now become public, and if the King of Franconia is courting a peasant girl, the whole world will know it. And that is exactly what I desire.”
The Chancellor looked at her anxiously. Rendered secure against consequences by her royal blood, it was easy for Hermengarde to run where it would be dangerous for him to creep. He dared not imitate her frankness, and yet it was necessary for him if possible to penetrate her designs.
“You will pardon my dulness,” he said, speaking with some hesitation, “if I do not quite grasp your position. I do not understand that you really desire the King to marry this young person?”
“I think such a marriage would be the act of a madman,” was the quick reply.
The old courtier, in spite of his training, could not repress a start. He hastened to pass on.
“Then I presume that you think the publicity given to the affair will deter his Majesty from going on?”
“It may have that effect, certainly. But I will be perfectly open with you, my dear Count.” The Chancellor instantly became on his guard. “The fact is that I do not choose to be in the dark as to what is taking place. I want to know the worst, and if my nephew really contemplates making this girl the Queen ofFranconia, I think I have a right to know it—and perhaps to prevent it. I suppose I may take it that you, as the King’s principal adviser”—the Count bit his lip—“would feel it your duty to oppose such a match by every means in your power.”
“Every legitimate means, undoubtedly, Madam.”
A slight frown passed across Hermengarde’s face.
“Quite so. And it may become necessary—of course I do not say that it will—to take very strong measures against the King’s infatuation. In that case it is essential that we should have public opinion on our side. The presence of the girl here in the Castle will ensure that. The whole Court will have the opportunity of observing the King’s conduct, and forming their own opinions on it. That very rude man, Von Stahlen, who said such spiteful things about our dear Gertrude,”—the Chancellor looked uneasy—“will make some of his disagreeable epigrams. In short, we shall be able to arouse such a feeling that the King will have to abandon his purpose, or—”
She stopped, and darted a piercing glance at Von Sigismark. He trembled, and fidgeted with his beard. The Princess thought the time had come to play the trump card she held in reserve.
“Do you know why this escaped lunatic, Mark, or whatever he is called, wields such influence over the King?” she demanded abruptly.
The Count gazed at her with new alarm.
“I cannot say, unless it is because the King believes him to be sincere.”
“Then you were not aware that the man is a cousin of your future Queen?”
This time the Chancellor made no attempt to conceal his astonishment and dismay.
“Great heavens! Is that true?” he exclaimed, with uncourtly freedom.
Hermengarde leaned back, enjoying his confusion, and regarded him with a sardonic smile.
“You see I am your friend, Count. Although you are quite right to be careful, you may find it the best policy to join hands with me, after all.”
Then, before the Count could recover sufficiently from his consternation to make any reply, she added—
“Now, let me point out to you another thing. This man, from what I have heard of him, is not of a character to lend himself for an instant to anything that would be contrary to the code of honour or morals which prevails among his class. Do you suppose, then, that he would remain here on terms of intimacy with Maximilian unless he, at all events, believed that the King meant to marry his cousin honourably? Tell me frankly, are you prepared to see this girl Queen of Franconia, and Herr Mark Chancellor?”
The Count shrank before her searching gaze. But he never spoke frankly; it was by pursuing a very different policy that he had reached and maintained his present position.
“What you tell me is very serious, Madam,” he said, as soon as he could collect himself. “It calls for the most anxious consideration. I hardly feel justifiedin expressing my opinion off-hand. I can only say that I am deeply sensible of your goodness in giving me this information, and I will take care to keep you informed beforehand of any steps which I may think it necessary to take.”
The Princess breathed impatiently. Then she made her last move.
“The fact is, my dear Count, that you and I cannot come to an understanding too soon. The present situation is an uncomfortable one for us all. We never know from day to day what the King may take it into his head to do. That scene in the gallery was enough to set people talking, and then there was that affair with your daughter.” The Count looked up. “Fortunately, nothing came of it, but it has put both you and her in a false position in the eyes of the Court. Now she will naturally feel disinclined to look at any beside a royal suitor. Do you know”—and the Princess bent slightly towards him with her most gracious expression—“I fancy I have detected a growing intimacy between her and my son. Ernest is too young to think about marrying at present, it is true, but I have formed no plans for him; and owing to the unhappy reputation which overhangs the house of Astolf—though Ernest is so little of an Astolf that I have no fears for him—it may not be easy to procure him a royal bride. He is a good lad, and will make a good king if he should one day come to the throne. Just sound your daughter, some time, and find out whether she really is inclined to the Prince.”
The gorgeous bait had been skilfully thrown, but the wary old courtier did not rise to it. He looked at the Princess, and became more on his guard than ever.
“It is exceedingly gracious on your part, Madam, to even suggest such a possibility. But, as you have said, the Prince is too young to think of such things for many years, and I should incur much blame if, in my position, I encouraged any such ambitions for my daughter. And I feel sure that Gertrude knows her duty to the royal house too well to entertain any ideas so far above her station.”
He made a movement to go, and the Princess, who could not wholly conceal her chagrin at this rebuff, made no effort to detain him.
As he was approaching the door, however, it was opened quickly from the other side by the page, who went up to his royal mistress.
“If your Royal Highness pleases, Karl Fink is in attendance.”
Hermengarde glanced hastily at the Chancellor to see if he had heard the name. An equally hasty movement on his part betrayed that he had both heard and been roused to attention.
“Tell him to come in,” said the Princess, defiantly. “Wait one minute, Count; this may be a message for you as well as for me.”
Von Sigismark bowed, and retraced his steps till he stood in front of her.
Karl entered, with an air of mingled distress and alarm.
“Well, what is it?”
The man turned his eyes from Hermengarde to the Count von Sigismark, and back again, before answering.
“Madam, his Majesty has left the palace secretly, in company with Herr Mark. He has left a note saying that he may be absent for several days. And no one knows where they have gone.”