I fell to wondering, as we rode home, whether we should find all safe; for we had left Marie Wort and my lady's woman to keep house with two only of the men. From that, again, I strayed into thoughts of the chain, and of Marie herself, so that the very head of what happened when we reached the house escaped me. The first I knew of it, Fraulein Anna's horse backed suddenly into mine, and brought us all up short with a deal of jostling and plunging. When I looked forward to learn what was amiss, I saw a man lying on his face under my lady's horse, and so near it that the beast's feet were touching his head. The man was crying out something in a pitiful tone, and two or three of the general's officers who were riding abreast of me were swearing roundly, and there was great confusion.
General Tzerclas said something, but my lady overbore him. 'What is it?' I heard her cry. 'Get up, man, and speak. Don't lie there. What is it?'
The man rose to his knees, and cried out, 'Justice, justice, lady!' in a wild sort of way, adding something--which I could not understand, for he spoke in a vilepatois--about a house. He was in a miserable plight, and looked scarcely human. His face was sallow, his eyes shone with famine, his shrunken limbs peered through mud-stained rags that only half covered him.
'Which is your house?' my lady asked gently. And when one of the officers who had ridden up abreast of her would have intervened, she raised her hand with a gesture there was no mistaking. 'Which is your house?' she repeated.
The man pointed to the one in which we had our quarters.
'What! That one?' my lady cried incredulously. 'Then what has brought you to this?' For the creature looked the veriest scarecrow that ever hung about a church-porch. His head and feet had no covering, his hair was foully matted. He was filthy, hideous, famine-stricken.
And desperate. For, half-cringing, half-defiant, he pointed his accusing finger at the general. 'He has! He and his army!; he cried. 'That house was mine. Those fields were mine. I had cattle, they have eaten them. I had wood, they have burned it. I had meat, they have taken it. I was rich, and I amthis!I had, and I have not--only a wife and babes, and they are dying in a ditch. May the curse of God----'
'Hush!' my lady cried, in an unsteady voice. And, without adding a word, she turned to General Tzerclas and looked at him; as if this were Heritzburg, and she the judge, he the criminal.
Doubtless the position was an awkward one. But he showed himself equal to it. 'There has been foul play here,' he said firmly. 'I think I remember the man's face.' Then he turned and raised his hand. 'Let all stand back,' he said in a stern, curt tone.
We fell back out of hearing, leaving him and my lady with the man. For some time the general seemed to be putting questions to the fellow, speaking to my mistress between whiles. Presently he called sharply for Ludwig. The captain went forward to them, and then it was very plain what was going on, for the general raised his voice, and made the rating he administered to his subaltern audible even by us. Back Ludwig came by-and-by, with a dark sneer on his face, and we saw the general hand money to the man.
'Teufel!' one of the fellows who rode beside me muttered, surprise in his voice. 'When the general gives, look to your necks. It will cost some one dear, this! I would not be in that clod's shoes for his booty ten times told!'
Possibly. But I was not so much interested on the clown's account as on my lady's; and one needed only half an eye to see what the general's liberality had effected with her. She was all smiles again, speaking to him with the utmost animation, leaning towards him as she rode. She forgot the Waldgrave, who had fallen back with the rest of us; she forgot all but the general. He went with her to the door of the house, gave his hand to help her to dismount, lingered talking to her on the threshold. And my heart sank. I could have gnashed my teeth with anger as I stood aside uncovered, waiting for him to go.
For how could we combat the man? Such an episode as this, which should have opened my lady's eyes to his true character, served only to restore him to favour and blind her more effectually. It had undone all the good of the afternoon; it had effaced alike the Waldgrave's success and the general's remissness; it had given Tzerclas, who all day had been losing slowly, the upper hand once more. I felt the disappointment keenly.
I suppose it was that which made me think of consulting Fraulein Anna, and begging her to use her influence with my lady to get out of the camp. At any rate, the idea occurred to me. I could not catch her then; but later in the evening, when some acrobats, whom the general had sent for the Countess's diversion, were performing outside, and my lady had gone out to the fallen tree to see them the better, I found the Fraulein alone in the outer room. She looked up at my entrance.
'Who is it?' she said sharply, peering at me with her white, short-sighted face. 'Oh, it is you, Mr. Thickhead, is it? I know whom you have sneaked in to see!' she added spitefully.
'That is well,' I answered civilly. 'For I came in to see you, Fraulein.'
'Oh!' she retorted, nodding her head in a very unpleasant manner. 'Then you want something. I can guess what it is. But go on.'
'If I want something,' I answered, 'and I do, it is in your own behalf, Fraulein. You heard what I said to my lady last night? I did not persuade her. Can you persuade her--to leave the camp and its commander?'
Fraulein Max shook her head. 'Why should I?' she said, smoothing out her skirt with her hands, and looking at me with a cunning smile. 'What have I to gain by persuading her, Master Schwartz?'
'Safety,' I said.
'Oh!' she cried ironically. 'Then let me remind you of something. When we were all safe and comfortable at Heritzburg--safe, mind you--who was it disturbed us? Who was it stirred up my lady to make trouble--more improbi anseris--and though I warned him what would come of it, persisted in it until we had all to flee at night like so many vagrants? Ay, and have never had a quiet night since! Who was that, Master Martin?'
'Fraulein,' I answered patiently, forbearing to remind her how much she had been herself in fault, 'I may have been wrong then. It does not alter the situation now.'
'Does it not?' she replied. 'But I think it does. You had your way at Heritzburg, and what came of it? Trouble and misery. You want your way now, but I shall not help you to it. I have had enough of your way, and I do not like it.'
She laughed triumphantly, seeing me silenced; and I stood looking at her, wondering what argument I could use. Doubtless she had had a comfortless time on the journey from Heritzburg, jogging through fords and over ruts, and along steep places, wet, tired, and scared, deprived of her books and all her home pleasures. She had had time and to spare to lay up many a grudge against me. Now it was her turn, and I read in her face her determination to make the most of it.
I might frighten her; and that seemed my only chance. 'Well, Fraulein,' I said after a pause, 'you may have been right then, and you may be right now. But I hope you have counted the cost. If my lady shows herself determined to leave, to-morrow and perhaps the next day the power of going will remain in her hands. Later it will have passed from her. Familiarity breeds contempt, and even the Countess of Heritzburg cannot stay long in such a camp as this, where nothing is respected, without losing that respect which for the moment protects her. In a day or two, in a few days, the hedge will fall. And then, Fraulein, we may all look to ourselves.'
But Fraulein Anna laughed shrilly. 'O tu anser!' she cried contemptuously. 'Open your eyes! Cannot you see that the general is knee-deep in love with her? In a week he will be head over ears, and her slave!'
I stared at her. Doubtless she knew; she was a woman. I drew a deep breath. 'Well,' I said, 'and what of that?'
She looked at me spitefully. 'Ask my lady!' she said. 'How should I know?'
I returned her gaze, and thought awhile. Then I said coldly, 'I think it is you who are the fool, Fraulein. Take it for granted that what you tell me is true. Have you considered what will happen should my lady repulse him? What will happen to her and to us?'
'She will not,' Fraulein Max answered.
But I saw that the shaft had gone home. She fidgeted on her seat. And I persisted. 'Still, if she does?' I said. 'What then?'
'She will not!' she answered. 'She must not!'
'By Heaven!' I cried, 'you are on his side!'
She blinked at me with her short-sighted eyes. 'And why not?' she said slowly. 'On whose side should I be? My Lord Waldgrave's? He never gives me a word, and seldom recognises my existence. On yours? If you want help, go to the black-eyed puling girl you have brought in, who is always creeping and crawling round us, and would oust me if she and you could manage it and she had the breeding. Chut! don't talk to me,' she continued maliciously, the colour rising to her pale cheeks. 'I wonder that you dare to come to me with such proposals! Is my lady to be ruled by her servants? Has she no judgment of her own? Why, you fool, I have but to tell her, and you are disgraced!'
'As you please, Fraulein,' I said sullenly, stung to anger by one part of her harangue. 'But as to Marie Wort----'
'Marie Wort?' she cried, catching me up and mocking my tone. 'Who said anything about her, I should like to know? Though for my part, had I my way, the popish chit should be whipped!'
'Fraulein!' I cried.
She laughed bitterly. 'Oh, you are fools, you men!' she said. 'But I have made you angry, and that is enough. Go! Yes, go. I have supped on folly. Go, before your mistress comes in; or I must out with all, and lose a power over you.'
I went sullenly. While we had been talking the room had been growing dark. Then it had grown light again with a smoky, dancing glare that played fantastically on the walls and seemed to rise and sink with the murmur of applause outside. They had brought torches made of pine-knots that my lady might see the longer, and in the yellow circle of light which these shed, the mountebanks, monstrously dressed and casting weird shadows, were wrestling and leaping and writhing. The light reached, but fitfully and by flashes, the log on which my lady sat enthroned, with General Tzerclas and the Waldgrave at her side. Still farther away the crowd surged and laughed and gibed in the darkness.
I looked at my lady and found one look enough. I read the utter hopelessness of the attempt I had just made. She was enjoying herself. Fear was not natural to her, and she saw nothing to fear either in the man beside her or the crowd beyond. Suspicion was no part of her character, and she saw nothing to suspect. Had I won Fraulein Max over to my side, as I felt sure that the general had bought her to his, I should equally have had my trouble for my pains, and no more.
My only hope lay in the Waldgrave. He alone, could he once warm into flower the love that hung trembling in the bud, might move her as I would have her moved. But, then, the time? Every hour we remained where we were, every day that rose and found us in the camp, rendered retreat more difficult, the general's plans more definite. He might not yet have made up his mind; he might not yet have hardened his heart to the point of employing force;hispassion might be still in the bud, his ambition unshaped. But how long dared I give him?
Assured that here lay the stress, I watched the young lord's progress with an anxiety scarcely less than his own. And the longer I watched the higher rose my hopes. It seemed to me that he went steadily forward in favour, while the general stood still. More than once during the next two days the latter showed himself irritable or capricious. The iron hand began to push through the silken glove. And though, on every one of these occasions, Tzerclas covered his mistake with the dexterity of a man of the world, and my lady's eyes could scarcely be said to be opened, a little coolness resulted, of which the Waldgrave had the benefit.
He, on his part, seemed imperturbable. Love had to all appearance changed his nature. A dozen times in the two days the impulse to fly at his rival's throat must have been strong upon him, yet through all he remained calm, pleasant, and courteous, and carried an old head on young shoulders.
I wondered at last why he did not speak, for I marked the cloud on the general's brow growing darker and darker, and I found the forced inaction and suspense intolerable. Then I gathered, I cannot say why, that the Waldgrave would not speak until after the great banquet to which the general had bidden my lady. It had been deferred a day or two, but on the third day after the shooting-match it took place.
I suppose it was not love only that enabled the Waldgrave to carry himself so prudently at this time; but with it a sense of the peril in which we all stood. He was so far from betraying this, however, that no one could have worn an air more gallant or seemed in every way more free from care. General Tzerclas had supplied us with a couple of tailors, and there were rich stuffs to be bought in the camp; and the young lord did not neglect these opportunities. When he came on the morning of the great day to attend my lady to the banquet, he wore a suit of dark-blue velvet with a falling collar of white lace, and sash and points of lighter blue--the latter setting off his fair complexion to advantage. His hair, which had grown somewhat, flowed from under a broad-leafed hat decked with an ostrich feather, and he wore golden spurs, and high boots with the tops turned down. As he caracoled up and down before the house, with the sun shining on his fair head, he looked to my eyes as beautiful as Apollo. What the women thought of him, I do not know, but I saw my lady gazing at him from a window when his back was turned, and then, again, when he looked towards the house, she was gone. And I thought I knew what that meant.
She wore, herself, a grey riding-coat with a little silver braid about it, and a silver belt; and we all made what show we could; so that when we started to the general's quarters we were something to look at. The camp itself nothing could cleanse, but the village had been swept and the street watered. Pennons and cornets waved here and there in the sunshine, and green boughs garnished the fronts of the houses. Two tall poles, painted after the Venetian fashion and hung with streamers, stood before the general's quarters, the windows of which were almost hidden by a large trophy formed of glittering pikes and flags of many colours. The road here was strewn with green rushes, and opposite the house were ranked twelve trumpeters, who proclaimed my lady's arrival with a blare which shook the village.
On either side of the door a guard of honour was drawn up. I was not disposed to admire anything much, but it must be confessed that the sun shining on pike and corselet and steel cap, and on all the gay and gaudy colours and green leaves, produced a lively and striking effect. The moment my lady's horse stopped, four officers stepped from the doorway and stood at attention; after whom the general himself appeared bare-headed, and held my lady's stirrup while she dismounted. The Waldgrave performed a like service for Fraulein Anna, and I and Jacob for Marie Wort and the women.
Our host first conducted my lady into a withdrawing-room, where were only Count Waska and three colonels. This room, which was small, was fitted with a rich carpet and chairs covered with Spanish leather, as good as any my lady had in the castle at Heritzburg; and the walls were hidden behind Cordovan hangings. Here among other things were a large cage of larks and a strange, misshapen dwarf that stood hardly as high as my waist-belt, but was rumoured to be forty years old. He said several witty things to my lady, and one or two that I fancy the general had taught him, for they brought the blood to her cheeks. On a table stood another very rare and curious thing--a gold or silver-gilt fountain that threw up distilled waters, and continually cooled and sweetened the air. There were besides, gold cups and plates and jewelled arms and Venice glass, which fairly dazzled me; so that as I stood at the door with Jacob and the two maids I wondered at the richness and splendour of everything, and yet could not get out of my head the squalor of the hot, seething camp outside, and the poverty of the country round, which the army had eaten as bare as my hand.
After a short interval spent in listening to the dwarfs quips and cranks, General Tzerclas conducted my lady with much ceremony to the next room, where the banquet was laid. The floor of this larger room was strewn with scented rushes, the walls being adorned with trophies of arms and heads of deer and wolves, peering from ambushes of green leaves. At the upper end, where was the private door of entrance, was a dais table laid for eight persons; below were tables for forty or more. On the dais the general sat in the middle, having my lady on the right, and next to her Count Waska; on his left he had the Waldgrave, and beyond him Fraulein Anna. The two women stood behind my lady, holding her fan and vinaigrette. At the lower end of the room the general's band, placed in a kind of cage, played soft airs, while between the courses a gipsy girl danced very prettily, and a juggler diverted the company with his tricks.
As for the diversity of meats and fishes, and especially of birds, which was set on, it surprised me beyond measure; nor can I understand whence, in the wasted condition of the country, it was procured. For wines, Burgundy, Frontignac, and Tokay were served at the high table, and Rhine wines below. The courses continued to succeed one another for nearly three hours, but such was the skill of the musicians that the time seemed short. One man in particular won my lady's approbation. He played on a new instrument, shaped somewhat like a viol, but smaller and more roundly framed. Though it had three strings only and was a trifle shrill, it had a wonderful power of touching the heart, arousing the memory and producing a sweet melancholy. The general would have had my lady accept it, and said that he could easily procure another from the Milanese; but she declined gracefully, on the ground that without the player it would be a dumb boon.
There was so much gaiety in all this--and decent observance too, for the general's presence kept good order--that I did not wonder that my lady's eyes sparkled and betrayed the gratification she felt. All was for her, all in her honour. Even I, who looked at the scene through green glasses and could not hear a word the general said without striving to place some ill construction on it--even I felt myself somewhat carried away, when the first toast, that of the Emperor, was given in the midst of cheering, partly serious, partly ironical. It was followed by that of the Elector of Saxony. The King of Sweden came next, and was received in an equally equivocal manner. Not so, however, the fourth, which was given by General Tzerclas standing, with his plumed hat in his hand.
'All in Tokay!' he cried in his deep voice. 'The most noble and high-born, the Countess Rotha of Heritzburg, who honours us with her presence! Hoch! Hoch! Hoch!'
And draining his goblet, which was of green Nuremberg glass, and of no mean value, he dashed it to the floor, an example which was immediately followed by all present, so that the crash of glass and clang of sword-hilts filled the room with high-pitched sounds that seemed to intoxicate the ear.
My lady rose and bowed thrice, with her cheek crimson and her eyes soft. Then she turned to retire, while all remained standing. The general accompanied her as far as the door of the withdrawing-room, the Waldgrave following with Fraulein Anna; while the dwarf marched side by side with me, keeping step with an absurd gravity which filled the room with laughter. On the threshold the general and his companions left us with low bows; but in a trice Tzerclas came back to say a word in my ear.
'See to the other door,' he muttered, flashing a grim look at me. 'There may be deep drinking. If any offer so much as a word of rudeness here, he shall hang, drunk or sober. Have a care, therefore, that no one has the chance.'
Then my heart sank, for I knew, hearing his tone and seeing his face, as he said that, that Fraulein Anna was right. He loved my mistress. He loved her! I went away to my place by the door, feeling as if he had struck me in the face. For if she loved him in return that were bad enough; and if she did not, what then, seeing that we were in his power?
Certainly he had omitted nothing on this occasion that might charm her. I thought the feast over; but in the withdrawing-room a fresh collation of dainty sweets and syrups awaited my lady, with a great gold bowl of rosewater. The man, too, who had played on the Italian viol brought it in, that she might see and examine it more closely. From my post at the door, I saw Fraulein Anna flitting about, bringing her short-sighted eyes down to everything, thrusting her face into the rose-water, and peering at the weapons and stuffs as if she would eat them. All the while, too, I could hear her prattling ceaseless praise of everything--the general's taste, the general's wealth, his generosity, his skill in Latin, his love for Cæsar--the fat book I had seen him studying by the fire--above all, his appreciation of Voetius, of whom I shrewdly believe he had never heard before.
My lady sat almost silent under the steady shower of words, listening and thinking, and now and then touching the strings of the viol which lay forgotten on her lap. Perhaps she was dreaming of her two admirers, perhaps only giving ear to the growing tumult in the room we had left, where the revellers were still at their wine. By-and-by we heard them break into song, and then in thunder the chorus came rolling out--
'Hoch! Who rides with old Pappenheim knee to kneeThe sword is his title, the world is his fee!He knows nor Monarch, nor Sire, nor climeWho follows the banner of bold Pappenheim!'
'Hoch! Who rides with old Pappenheim knee to kneeThe sword is his title, the world is his fee!He knows nor Monarch, nor Sire, nor climeWho follows the banner of bold Pappenheim!'
My lady's lip curled. 'Is there no one on our side they can sing?' she muttered, tapping the viol impatiently with her fingers. 'Have we no heroes? Has Count Bernard never headed a charge or won a fight? Pappenheim? I am tired of the man.'
The note jarred on her, as it had on me when I first heard these men, paid by the north, singing the praises of the great southern raider. But a moment later she turned her head to hear better, and her face grew thoughtful. A great shout of 'Waska! Waska!' rang above the jingling of glasses and snatches of song; and then, 'The Waldgrave! The Waldgrave!' This time the cry was less boisterous, the voices were fewer.
My lady turned to me. 'What is it?' she said, a note of anxiety in her voice.
I was unable to tell her and I listened. By-and-by a roar of laughter made itself heard, and was followed by a cry of 'Waska!' as before. And then, 'The Thuringian Code! The Thuringian Code! It is his turn!'
'They are drinking, your excellency,' I said reluctantly. 'It is a drinking match, I think!'
She rose with a grand gesture, and set the little viol back on the table. 'I am going,' she said, almost fiercely. 'Let the horses be called.'
Fraulein Max looked scared, but my lady's face forbade argument or reply; and for my part I was not a whit unwilling. I turned and gave the order to Jacob. While he was away the Countess remained standing, tapping the floor with her foot.
'On this day--on this day they might have abstained!' she muttered wrathfully, as the chorus of riot and laughter grew each moment louder and wilder.
I thought so too, and was glad besides of anything which might work a breach between her and the general. But I little knew what was going to happen. It came upon us while we waited, with no more warning than I have described. The door by which we had left the banqueting chamber flew suddenly open, and three men, borne in on a wave of cheering and uproar, staggered in upon us, the leader reeling under the blows which his applauding followers rained upon his shoulders.
'There! Said I not so?' he cried thickly, lurching to one side to escape them, and almost falling. 'Where ish your Waska. Your Waska now I'd like to know! Waska is great, but I am--greater--greater, you see. I can shoot, drink, fight, and make love better than any man here! Eh! Who shays I can't? Eh? Itsh the Countesh! My cousin the Countesh! Ah!'
Alas, it was the Waldgrave! And yet not the Waldgrave. This man's face was pale and swollen and covered with perspiration. His eyes were heavy and sodden, and his hair strayed over them. His collar and his coat were open at the neck, and his sash and the front of his dress were stained and reeking with wine. His hands trembled, his legs reeled, his tongue was too large for his mouth. He smiled fatuously at us. Yet itwasthe Waldgrave--drunk!
My lady's face froze as she looked at him. She raised her hand, and the men behind him fell back abashed and left him standing there, propping himself uncertainly against the wall.
'Well, your excellenshy,' he stuttered with a hiccough--the sudden silence surprised him--'you don't congratulatsh me! Waska is under table. Under table, I shay!'
My lady looked at him, her eyes blazing with scorn. But she said nothing; only her fingers opened and closed convulsively. I turned to see if Jacob had come back. He entered at that moment and General Tzerclas with him.
'Your excellency's horses are coming,' the general said in his usual tone. Then he saw the Waldgrave and the open door, and he started with surprise. 'What is this?' he said. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright. But he was sober.
The drunken man tried to straighten himself. 'Ashk Waska!' he said. Alas! his good looks were gone. I regarded him with horror, I knew what he had done.
'The horses?' the general muttered.
My lady drew a deep breath, as a person recovering consciousness does, and turned slowly towards him. 'Yes,' she said, shuddering from head to foot, 'if you please. I wish to go.'
The young lord heard the horses come to the door, and staggered forward. 'Yesh, letsh go. I'll go too,' he stuttered with a foolish laugh. 'Letsh all go. Except Waska! He is under the table. Letsh all go, I say! Eh? Whatsh thish?'
I pushed him back and held him against the wall while the general led my lady out. But, oh the pity of it, the wrath, the disappointment that filled my breast as I did so! This was the end of my duel! This was the stay to which I had trusted! The Waldgrave's influence with my lady? It was gone--gone as if it had never been. A spider's web, a rope of sand, a straw were after this a stronger thing to depend upon, a more sure safeguard, a stouter holdfast for a man in peril!
* * * * *
He came to my lady next morning about two hours after sunrise, when the dew was still on the grass and the birds--such as had lost their first broods or were mating late--were in full song. The camp was sleeping off its debauch, and the village street was bright and empty, with a dog here and there gnawing a bone, or sneaking round the corner of a building. My lady had gone out early to the fallen tree with her psalm book; and was sitting there in the freshness of the morning, with her back to the house and the street, when his shadow fell across the page and she looked up and saw him.
She said 'good morning' very coldly, and he for a moment said nothing, but stood, sullenly making a hole in the dust with his toe and looking down at it. His face was pale, where it was not red with shame, and his eyes were heavy and dull; but otherwise the wine he had taken had left no mark on his vigorous youth.
My lady after speaking looked down at her book again, and he continued to stand before her like a whipped schoolboy, stealing every now and then a furtive look at her. At length she looked up again.
'Do you want anything?' she said.
This time he returned her gaze, with his face on fire, trying to melt her. And I think that there were not many more unhappy men at that moment than he. His fancy, liking, love were centred in the woman before him; in a mad freak he had outraged, insulted, estranged her. He did not know what to do, how to begin, what plan to put forward. He could for the moment only look, with shame and misery in his face.
It was a plea that would have melted many, but my lady only grew harder. 'Did you hear me?' she said proudly. 'Do you want anything?'
'You know!' he cried impetuously, and his voice broke out fiercely and seemed to beat against her impassiveness as a bird against the bars of its cage. 'I was a beast last night. But, oh, Rotha, forgive me.'
'I think that we had better not talk about it,' my lady answered him stonily. 'It is past, and we need not quarrel over it. I shall be wiser next time,' she added. 'That is all.'
'Wiser?' he muttered.
'Yes; wiser than to trust myself to your protection,' she replied ruthlessly.
He shrank back as if she had struck him, and for a moment pain and rage brought the blood surging to his cheeks. He even took a step as if to leave her; but when love and pride struggle in a young man, love commonly has it, and he turned again and stood hesitating, the picture of misery.
'Is that all you will say to me?' he muttered, his voice unsteady.
My lady moved her feet uneasily. Then she shut her book, and looked round as if she would have willingly escaped. But she was not stone; and when at length she turned to him, her face was changed.
'What do you want me to say?' she asked gently.
'That some day you will forgive me.'
'I forgive you now,' she rejoined firmly. 'But I cannot forget. I do not think I ever can,' she went on. 'Last night I was in your charge among strangers. If danger had arisen, whose arm was to shield me, if not yours? If any had insulted me, to whom was I to look, if not to you? Yes, you may well hide your face,' my lady continued, waxing bitter, despite herself. 'I am not at Heritzburg now, and you should have remembered that. I am here with scanty protection, with few means to exact respect, a refugee, if you like, a mark for scandal, and your kinswoman. And you? for shame, Rupert!'
He fell on his knees and seized her hand. 'You are killing me!' he cried in a choking voice, his face pale, his breath coming quickly. 'For I love you, Rotha, I love you! And every word of reproach you utter is death to me.'
'Hush, Rupert!' she said quickly. And she tried to withdraw her hand. He had taken her by surprise.
But he was not to be silenced; he kept her hand, though he rose to his feet. 'It is true,' he answered. 'I have waited long enough. I must speak now, or it may be too late. I tell you, I love you!'
The Countess's face was crimson, her brow dark with vexation. 'Hush!' she said again, and more imperatively. 'I have heard enough. It is useless.'
'You have not heard me!' he answered. 'Don't say so until you have heard me.' And he sat down suddenly on the tree beside her, and looked into her face with pleading eyes. 'You are letting last night weigh against me,' he went on. 'If that be all, I will never drink more than three cups of wine at a time as long as I live. I swear it.'
She shook her head rather sadly. 'That is not all, Rupert,' she said.
'Then what will you have?' he answered eagerly. He saw the change in her, and his eyes began to burn with hope as he looked. Her milder tone, her downcast head, her altered aspect, all encouraged him. 'I love you, Rotha!' he cried, raising her hand to his lips. 'What more will you have? Tell me. All I have, and all I ever shall have--and I am young and may do great things--are yours. I have been riding behind you day by day, until I know every turn of your head, and every note of your voice. I know your step when you walk, and the rustle of your skirt among a hundred! And there is no other woman in the world for me! What if I am the youngest cadet of my house?' he continued, leaning towards her; 'this war will last many a year yet, and I will carve you a second county with my sword. Wallenstein did. Who was he? A simple gentleman. Now he is Duke of Friedland. And that Englishman who married a king's sister? They succeeded, why should not I? Only give me your love, Rotha! Trust me; trust me once more and always, and I will not fail you.'
He tried to draw her nearer to him, but the Countess shook her head, and looked at him with tears in her eyes. 'Poor boy,' she said slowly. 'Poor boy! I am sorry, but it cannot be. It can never be.'
'Why?' he cried, starting as if she had stung him.
'Because I do not love you,' she said.
He dropped her hand and sat glaring at her. 'You are thinking of last night!' he muttered.
She shook her head. 'I am not,' she said simply. 'I suppose that if I loved you, that and worse would go for nothing. But I do not.'
Her calmness, her even tone went to his heart and chilled it. He winced, and uttering a low cry turned from her and hid his face in his hands.
'Why not?' he said thickly, after an interval. 'Why can you not love me?'
'Why does the swallow nest here and not there?' the Countess answered gently. 'I do not know. Why did my father love a foreigner and not one of his own people? I do not know. Neither do I know why I do not love you. Unless,' she added, with rising colour, 'it is that you are young, younger than I am; and a woman turns naturally to one older than herself.'
Her words seemed to point so surely to General Tzerclas that the young man ground his teeth together. But he had not spirit to turn and reproach her then; and after remaining silent for some minutes, he rose.
'Good-bye,' he said in a broken voice. And he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
The Countess started. The words, the action impressed her disagreeably. 'You are not going--away I mean?' she said.
'No,' he answered slowly. 'But things are--changed. When we meet again it will be as----'
'Friends!' she cried, her voice tender almost to yearning. 'Say it shall be so. Let it be so always. You will not leave me alone here?'
'No,' he said simply, and with dignity. 'I shall not.'
Then he went away, quite quietly; and if the beginning of the interview had shown him to small advantage, the same could not be said of the end. He went down the street and through the camp with his head on his breast and a mist before his eyes. The light was gone out of the sunshine, the greenness from the trees. The day was grey and dreary and miserable. The blight was on all he saw. So it is with men. When they cannot have that which seems to them the best and fairest and most desirable thing in the world, nothing is good or pleasant or to be desired any longer.
It was my ill luck, on that day which began so inauspiciously, to see two shadows: one on a man's face, the Waldgrave's, and of that I need say no more; the other, the shadow of a man's body, an odd, sinister outline, crooked and strange and tremulous, that I came upon in a remote corner of the camp, to which I had wandered in my perplexity; a place where a few stunted trees ran down a steep bank to the river. I had never been to this place before, and, after a glance which showed me that it was the common sink and rubbish-bed of the camp, I was turning moodily away, when first this shadow and then the body which cast it caught my eye. The latter hung from the branch of an old gnarled thorn, the feet a few inches from the ground. A shuddering kind of curiosity led me to go up and look at the dead man's face, which was doubled up on his breast; and then the desire to test the nerves, which is common to most men, induced me to stand staring at him.
The time was two hours after noon, and there were few persons moving. The camp was half asleep. Heat, and flies, and dust were everywhere--and this gruesome thing. The body was stripped, and the features were swollen and disfigured; but, after a moment's thought, I recognized them, and saw that I had before me the poor wretch who had appealed to my lady's compassion after the shooting-match, and to whom the general had opened his hand so freely. The grim remarks I had then heard recurred now, and set me shuddering. If any doubt still remained in my mind, it was dissipated a moment later by a placard which had once hung round the dead man's neck, but now lay in the dust at his feet. I turned it over. Chalked on it in large letters were the words 'Beggars, beware!'
I felt at first, on making the discovery, only horror and indignation, and a violent loathing of the camp. But these feelings soon passed, and left me free to consider how the deed touched us. Could I prove it? Could I bring it home to the general to my lady's satisfaction, beyond denial or escape, and so open her eyes? And if I could, would it be wise, by doing so, to rouse his anger while she remained in the camp and in General Tzerclas' power? I might only hasten the catastrophe.
I found this a hard nut to crack, and was still puzzling over it, with my eyes on the senseless form which was already so far out of my thoughts, when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder and a harsh voice grated on my ear.
'Well, Master Steward, a penny for your thoughts! They should be worth having, to judge by the way you rub your chin.'
I started and looked round. The speaker was Captain Ludwig, who, with two of his fellows, had come up behind me while I mused. Something in his tone rather than his words--a note of menace--warned me to be careful; while the glum looks of his companions, as they glanced from me to the dead man, added point to the hint, and filled my mind with a sudden sense of danger. I had learned more than I had been intended to learn; I had found out something I had not been intended to find out. The very quietness and sunshine and the solitude of the place added horror to the moment. It was all I could do to hide my discomfiture and face them without flinching.
'My thoughts?' I said, forcing a grin. 'They were not very difficult to guess. A sharp shrift, and a short rope? What else should a man think here?'
'Ay?' Ludwig said, watching me closely with his eyes half closed and his lips parted.
He would say no more, and I was forced to go on. 'It is not the first time I have seen a man dancing on nothing!' I said recklessly; 'but it gave me a turn.'
He kicked the placard. 'You are a scholar,' he said. 'What is this?'
My face grew hot. I dared not deny my learning, for I did not know how much he knew; but, for the nonce, I wished heartily that I had never been taught to read.
'That?' I said, affecting a jovial tone to cover my momentary hesitation. 'A seasonable warning. They are as thick here as nuts in autumn. We could spare a few more, for the matter of that.'
'Ay, but this one?' he retorted, coolly tapping the dead man with a little stick he carried, and then turning to look me in the face. 'You have seen him before.'
I made a great show of staring at the body, but I suppose I played my part ill, for before I could speak Ludwig broke in with a brutal laugh.
'Chut, man!' he said, with a sneer of contempt; 'you know him; I see you do. And knew him all along. Well, if fools will poke their noses into things that do not concern them, it is not my affair. I must trouble you for your company awhile.'
'Whither?' I said, setting my teeth together and frowning at him.
'To my master,' he replied, with a curt nod. 'Don't say you won't,' he continued with meaning, 'for he is not one to be denied.'
I looked from one to another of the three men, and for a moment the desperate clinging to liberty, which makes even the craven bold, set my hands tingling and sent the blood surging to my head. But reason spoke in time. I saw that the contest was too unequal, the advantage of a few minutes' freedom too trivial, since the general must sooner or later lay his hand on me; and I crushed down the impulse to resist.
'What scares you, comrades?' I said, laughing savagely. They had recoiled a foot. 'Do you see a ghost or a Swede, that you look so pale? Your general wants me? Then let him have me. Lead on! I won't run away, I warrant you.'
Ludwig nodded as he placed himself by my side. 'That is the right way to take it,' he said. 'I thought that you might be going to be a fool, comrade.'
'Like our friend there,' I said dryly, pointing to the senseless form we were leaving. 'He made a fuss, I suppose?'
Ludwig shrugged his shoulders. 'No,' he answered, 'not he so much; but his wife. Donner! I think I hear her screams now. And she cursed us! Ah!'
I shuddered, and after that was silent. But more than once before we reached the general's quarters the frantic desire to escape seized me, and had to be repressed. I felt that this was the beginning of the end, the first proof of the strong grasp which held us all helpless. I thought of my lady, I thought of Marie Wort, and I could have shrieked like a woman; for I was powerless like a woman--gripped in a hand I could not resist.
The camp grilling and festering in the sunshine--how I hated it! It seemed an age I had lived in its dusty brightness, an age of vague fears and anxieties. I passed through it now in a feverish dream, until an exclamation, uttered by my companion as we turned into the street, aroused me. The street was full of loiterers, all standing in groups, and all staring at a little band of horsemen who sat motionless in their saddles in front of the general's quarters. For a moment I took these to be the general's staff. Then I saw that they were dressed all alike, that their broad, ruddy faces were alike, that they held themselves with the same unbending precision, and seemed, in a word, to be ten copies of one stalwart man. Near them, a servant on foot was leading two horses up and down, and they and he had the air of being on show.
Captain Ludwig, holding me fast by the arm, stopped at the first group of starers we came to. 'Who are these?' he asked gruffly.
The man he addressed turned round, eager to impart his knowledge. 'Finns!' he said; 'from head-quarters--Stalhanske's Finns. No less, captain.'
My companion whistled. 'What are they doing here?' he asked.
The other shook his head. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Their leader is with the general. What do you think of them, Master Ludwig?'
But Ludwig only grunted, looking with disparaging eyes at the motionless riders, whose air betrayed a certain consciousness of their fame and the notice which they were exciting. From steel cap to spurred boot, they showed all metal and leather. Nothing gay, nothing gaudy; not a chain or a sash differenced one from another. Grim, stern, and silent, they stared before them. Had no one named the King of Sweden's great regiment, I had known that I was looking no longer on brigands, but on soldiers--on part of the iron line that at Breitenfeld broke the long repute of years, and swept Pappenheim from the hillside like chaff before the storm.
After hesitating a moment, Ludwig went forward a few paces, as if to enter the house, taking me with him. Then he paused. At the same instant the man who was leading the two horses turned. His eye lit on me, and I saw an extraordinary change come over the fellow's face. He stopped short and, pulling up his horses, stared at me. It seemed to me, too, that I had seen him before, and I returned his look; but while I was trying to remember where, the door of the general's quarters opened. Two or three men who were loitering before it, stepped quickly aside, and a tall, stalwart man came out, followed by General Tzerclas himself.
I looked at the foremost, and in a twinkling recognized him. It was Von Werder. But an extraordinary change had come over the traveller. He was still plainly dressed, in a buff coat, with untanned boots, a leather sword-belt, and a grey hat with a red feather; and in all of these there was nothing to catch the eye. But his air and manner as he spoke to his companion were no longer those of an inferior, while his stern eye, as it travelled over the crowd in the street, expressed cold and steady contempt.
As the servant brought up his horse, he spoke to his companion. 'You are sure that you can do it--with these?' he said, flicking his riding-whip towards the silent throng.
'You may consider it done,' the general answered rather grimly.
'Good! I am glad. Well, man, what is it?'
He spoke the last words to his servant. The man pointed to me and said something. Von Werder looked at me. In a moment every one looked at me. Then Von Werder swung himself into his saddle, and turned to General Tzerclas.
'That is the man, I am told,' he said, pointing suddenly to me with his whip.
'He is at your service,' the general answered with a shrug of indifference.'
In an instant Von Werder's horse was at my side. 'A word with you, my man,' he said sharply. 'Come with me.'
Ludwig had hold of my arm still. He had not loosed me, and at this he interposed. 'My lord,' he cried to the general, 'this man--I have something to----'
'Silence, fool!' Tzerclas growled. 'And stand aside, if you value your skin!'
Ludwig let me go; immediately, as if an angel had descended to speak for me, the crowd parted, and I was free--free and walking away down the street by the side of the stranger, who continued to look at me from time to time, but still kept silence. When we had gone in this fashion a couple of hundred paces or more, and were clear of the crowd, he seemed no longer able to control himself, though he looked like a man apt at self-command. He waved his escort back and reined in his horse.
'You are the man to whom I talked the other night,' he said, fixing me with his eyes--'the Countess of Heritzburg's steward?'
I replied that I was. His face as he looked down at me, with his back to his following, betrayed so much agitation that I wondered more and more. Was he going to save us? Could he save us? Who was he? What did it all mean? Then his next question scattered all these thoughts and doubled my surprise.
'You had a chain stolen from you,' he said harshly, 'the night I lay in your camp?'
I stared at him with my mouth open. 'A chain?' I stammered.
'Ay, fool, a chain!' he replied, his eyes glaring, his cheeks swelling with impatience. 'A gold chain--with links like walnuts.'
'It is true,' I said stupidly. 'I had. But----'
'Where did you get it?'
I looked away. To answer was easy; to refrain from answering, with his eye upon me, hard. But I thought of Marie Wort. I did not know how the chain had come into her hands, and I asked him a question in return.
'Have you the chain?' I said.
'I have!' he snarled. And then in a sudden outburst of wrath he cried, 'Listen, fool! And then perhaps you will answer me more quickly. I am Hugo of Leuchtenstein, Governor of Cassel and Marburg, and President of the Landgrave's Council. The chain was mine and came back to me. The rogue who stole it from you, and joined himself to my company, blabbed of it, and where he got it. He let my men see it. He would not give it up, and they killed him. Will that satisfy you?' he continued, his face on fire with impatience. 'Then tell me all--all, man, or it will be the worse for you! My time is precious, and I cannot stay!'
I uncovered myself. 'Your excellency,' I stammered, 'the chain was entrusted to me by a--a woman.'
'A woman?' he exclaimed, his eyes lightening. 'Man, you are wringing my heart. A woman with a child?'
I nodded.
'A child three years old?'
'About that, your excellency.' On which, to my astonishment, he covered his face with both his hands, and I saw the strong man's frame heave with ill-suppressed emotion. 'My God, I thank thee!' I heard him whisper; and if ever words came from the heart, those did. It was a minute or more before he dared to uncover his face, and then his eyes were moist and his features worked with emotion.
'You shall be rewarded!' he said unsteadily. 'Do not fear. And now take me to him--to her.'
I was in a maze of astonishment, but I had sense enough to understand the order. We had halted scarcely more than a hundred yards from my lady's quarters, and I led the way thither, comprehending little more than that something advantageous had happened to us. At the door he sprang from his horse, and taking me by the arm, as if he were afraid to suffer me out of his reach, he entered, pushing me before him.
The principal room was empty, and I judged my lady was out. I cried 'Marie! Marie!' softly; and then he and I stood listening. The sunshine poured in through the windows; the house was still with the stillness of afternoon. A bird in a cage in the corner pecked at the bars. Outside the bits jingled, and a horse pawed the road impatiently.
'Marie!' I cried. 'Marie!'
She came in at last through a door which led to the back of the house, and I stepped forward to speak to her. But the moment I saw her clearly, the words died on my lips. The pallor of her face, the disorder of her hair struck me dumb. I forgot our business, my companion, all. 'What is it?' was all I could say. 'What is the matter?'
'The child!' she cried, her dark eyes wild with anxiety. 'The child! It is lost! It is lost and gone. I cannot find it!'
'The child? Gone?' I answered, my voice rising almost to a shout, in my surprise. 'It is missing? Now?'
'I cannot find it,' she answered monotonously. 'I left it for a moment at the back there. It was playing on the grass. Now it is gone.'
I looked at. Count Leuchtenstein. He was staring at the girl, listening and watching, his brow contracted, his face pale. But I suppose that this sudden alarm, this momentary disappearance did not affect him, from whom the child had been so long absent, as it affected us; for his first words referred to the past.
'This child, woman?' he said in his deep voice, which shook despite all his efforts. 'When you found it, it had a chain round its neck?'
But Marie was so wrapped up in her sudden loss that she answered him without thought, listening the while. 'Yes,' she said mechanically, 'it had.'
'Where did you find it, then--the child?' he asked eagerly.
'In the forest by Vach,' she replied, in the same indifferent tone.
'Was it alone?'
'It was with a dead woman,' she answered. She was listening still, with a strained face--listening for the pattering of the little feet, the shrill music of the piping voice. Only half of her mind was with us. Her hands opened and closed continually with anxiety; she held her head on one side, her ear to the door. When the Count went to put another question, she turned upon him so fiercely, I hardly knew her. 'Hush!' she said, 'will you? They are here, but they have not found him. They have not found him!' And she was right; though I, whose ears were not sharpened by love, did not discern this until two men, who had been left at home with her, and who had been out to search, came in empty-handed and with scared looks. They had hunted on all sides and found no trace of the child, and, certain that it could not have strayed far itself, pronounced positively that it had been kidnapped.
Marie at that burst into weeping so pitiful, that I was glad to send the men out, bidding them make a larger circuit and inquire in the camp. When they were gone, I turned to Count Leuchtenstein to see how he took it. I found him leaning against the wall, his face grave, dark, and thoughtful.
'There seems a fatality in it!' he muttered, meeting my eyes, but speaking to himself. 'That it should be lost again--at this moment! Yet, God's will be done. He who sent the chain to my hands can still take care of the child.'
He paused a moment in deep thought, and then, advancing to Marie Wort, who had thrown herself into a chair and was sobbing passionately with her face on the table, he touched her on the shoulder.
'Good girl!' he said kindly. 'Good girl! But doubtless the child is safe. Before night it will be found.'
She sprang up and faced him, her cheeks flaming with anger. I suppose the questions he had put to her had made no distinct impression on her mind.
'Oh,' she cried, in the voice of a shrew, 'how you prate! By night it will be found, will it? How do you know? But the child is nothing to you--nothing!'
'Girl,' he said solemnly, yet gently, 'the child is my child--my only child, and the hope of my house.'
She looked at him wildly. 'Who are you, then?' she said, her voice sinking almost to a whisper.
'I am his father,' he answered; when I looked to hear him state his name and titles. 'And as his father, I thank and bless you for all that you have done for him.'
'His mother?' she whispered, open-eyed with awe.
'His mother is dead. She died three years ago,' he answered gravely. 'And now tell me your name, for I must go.'
'You must go!' she exclaimed. 'You will go--you can go--and your child lost and wandering?'
'Yes,' he replied, with a dignity which silenced her, 'I can, for I have other and greater interests to guard than those of my house, and I dare not be negligent. He may be found to-morrow, but what I have to do to-day cannot be done to-morrow. See, take that,' he continued more gently, laying a heavy purse on the table before her. 'It is for you, for your own use--for your dowry, if you have a lover. And remember always that, in the house of Hugo of Leuchtenstein, at Cassel, or Marburg, or at the Schloss by Leuchtenstein, you will find a home and shelter, and stout friends whenever you need them. Now give me your name.'
She stared at him dumfounded and was silent. I told him Marie Wort of Munich, at present in attendance on the Countess of Heritzburg; and he set it down in his tablets.
'Good,' he said. And then in his stern, grave fashion he turned to me. 'Master Steward,' he said, in a measured tone which nevertheless stirred my blood, 'are you an ambitious man? If so, search for my child, and bring him to Cassel or Marburg, or my house, and I will fulfil your ambition. Would you have a command, I will see to it; or a farm, it shall be yours. You can do for me, my friend' he continued strenuously, laying his hand on my arm, 'what in this stress of war and statecraft I cannot do for myself. I have a hundred at my call, but they are not here; and by to-night I must be ten leagues hence, by to-morrow night beyond the Main. Yet God, I believe,' he went on, uncovering himself and speaking with reverent earnestness, 'who brought me to this place, and permitted me to hear again of my son, will not let His purpose fail because He calls me elsewhere.'
And he maintained this grave composure to the last. A man more worthy of his high repute, not in Hesse only, but in the Swedish camp, at Dresden, and Vienna, I thought that I had never seen. Yet still under the mask I discerned the workings of a human heart. His eye, as he turned to go, wandered round the room; I knew that it was seeking some trace of his boy's presence. On the threshold he halted suddenly; I knew that he was listening. But no sound rewarded him. He nodded sternly to me and went out.
I followed to hold his stirrup. The Finland riders, sitting upright in their saddles, looked as if they had not moved an eyelash in our absence. As I had left them so I found them. He gave a short, sharp word of command; a sudden jingling of bridles followed; the troop walked forward, broke into a trot, and in a twinkling disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust.
Then, and not till then, I remembered that I had not said a word to him about my lady's position. His personality and the loss of the child had driven it from my mind. Now it recurred to me; but it was too late, and after stamping up and down in vexation for a while, I turned and went into the house.
Marie Wort had fallen back into the old position at the table, and was sitting with her face on her arms, sobbing bitterly. I went up to her and saw the purse lying by her side.
'Come,' I said, trying awkwardly to cheer her, 'the child will be found, never fear. When my lady returns she will send to the general, and he will have it cried through the camp. It is sure to be found. And you have made a powerful friend.'
But she took no heed of me. She continued to weep; and her sobs hurt me. She seemed so small and lonely and helpless that I had not the heart to leave her by herself in the house and go out into the sunshine to search. And so--I scarcely know how it came about--in a moment she was sobbing out her grief on my shoulder and I was whispering in her ear.
Of love? of our love? No, for to have spoken of that while she wept for the child, would have seemed to me no better than sacrilege. And, besides, I think that we took it for granted. For when her sobs presently ceased, and she lay quiet, listening, and I found her soft dark hair on my shoulder, I kissed it a hundred times; and still she lay silent, her cheek against my rough coat. Our eyes had spoken morning and evening, at dawn when we met, and at night when we parted; and now that this matter of the chain was settled, it seemed fitting that she should come to me for comfort--without words.
At length she drew herself away from me, her cheek dark and her eyes downcast. 'Not now,' she said, gently stopping me--for then I think I should have spoken. 'Will you please to go out and search? No, I will not grieve.'
'But your purse!' I reminded her. She was leaving it on the table, and it was not safe there. 'You should put it in a place of safety, Marie.'
She took it up and very simply placed it in my hands. 'He said it was for my--dowry,' she whispered, blushing. And then she fled away shamefaced to her room.