* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
"I thought you were never coming," exclaimed Miss M'Pherson; then stopped abruptly at the sight of the young man with bare knees.
"Perhaps I never should, had it not been for the help of this good64friend," responded Sylvia; "for I got myself into unexpected difficulties up there. His name is Max, and he is a monarch of—chamois-hunters. Give him your rücksack and cape, dear Miss Collinson; Max is kind enough to be our guide down the mountain, as you seemed so timid about making the descent with me alone."
Miss M'Pherson, a staunch Royalist and firm believer in the divine right of kings, grew crimson as to nose and ears—a mute protest against this mischievous command. What a thing to have happened! Here was her adored young Princess leading the Imperial Eagle (disguised, indeed, yet Royal withal) a captive in chains. What an achievement even for all-conquering beauty, within the space of one short hour—short for so great a conquest, though it had appeared long enough in waiting. Such triumph was no more than a tribute due to that Rose-of- all-the-World, Princess Sylvia of Eltzburg-Neuwald, and must have been given her by the patron saint of lovers. But that Jane M'Pherson, daughter of a plain country parson of Dumbartonshire, should fling65upon the sacred shoulders of an emperor her brown canvas rücksack, stuffed with eggs and bread and cheese; her golf-cape, with goloshes in the pocket, was too monstrous. Her whole nature revolted against the suggestion of suchlèse-majesté.
"Pray, dearest P—Mary," the unhappy lady stammered, "don't ask me to—really these things of mine are nothing. I can hardly feel their weight."
"All the better for our friend Max, since he is to carry them," came the calm response. "Help her to undo the buckles, please, Max. Now you may have the pleasure of giving her your arm."
66
"ACH Himmel!" exclaimed Frau Johann. And "Ach Himmel!" she exclaimed again, with frantic uplifting of the hands.
The Grand Duchess turned pale, for the landlady had suddenly exhibited these signs of emotion while passing a window of the private sitting- room. It was the hour for afternoon tea in England, for afternoon coffee in Rhaetia, and already the Princess's mother had begun to look nervously for the climbers return. Naturally, at Frau Johann's outburst of excitement, her imagination pictured disaster.
"What—oh, what can you see?" she implored in piercing accents; but for once the courtesy due to a guest was forgotten, and Frau Johann fled without giving an answer.
Half paralyzed with apprehension, her mind conjuring some sight of terror, the Grand Duchess tottered to the window. Was there—yes,67there was a procession. Oh, horror! They were perhaps bringing Sylvia down from the mountain, dead, her beautiful face crushed out of recognition. Yet, no—there was Sylvia herself, the central figure in that procession. A peasant, loaded with cloaks and rücksacks, headed the band, while Sylvia and Miss M'Pherson followed after.
The anxious mother had thrown wide the window, but as she was about to attract the truants attention with an impromptu speech of welcome, the words were arrested on her lips. What was the matter with Frau Johann?
The old woman had popped out of the door like a Jack out of his box, sprung to the much-loaded peasant, and, almost rudely elbowing Miss M'Pherson aside, was distractedly tearing at the bundle of cloaks and rücksacks. Her inarticulate groans ascended to the Grand Duchess at the window, adding to the lady's increased bewilderment.
"What has the man been doing?" the Grand Duchess demanded. But nobody68answered, because nobody heard.
"Pray let him carry our thing indoors," Sylvia was insisting, while the peasant stood among the three women, apparently a prey to conflicting emotions. To the Grand Duchess, as she regarded the strange scene through her lorgnette, it seemed that his dark face expressed a mingling amusement, annoyance, and embarrassment. He looked like a man who had somehow placed himself in a false position, and was torn betwixt a desire to laugh and to fly into a rage. He frowned haughtily at Frau Johann, smiled at the two ladies, dividing his energies between secret gestures (which he evidently intended for the eye of the landlady alone) and endeavours to unburden himself, in his own time and way, of the load he carried.
More and more did the Grand Duchess wonder what was going on. Why did this man not speak out what he had to say? Why did Frau Johann at first seek to seize the things which he had on his back, then suddenly shrink away as if in fear, leaving the brown-faced peasant to his own69devices? How had he contrived, with a look, to intimidate that brave honest woman?
There was mystery here, thought the Grand Duchess; and she remembered dark tales of brigands, dreaded by all the country-folk, yet protected for very fear. She was painfully near-sighted, but by constant application of the lorgnette she arrived at a logical conclusion.
Frau Johann had doubtless been frightened at seeing her guests coming down the mountain in such evil company. She had rushed to their succour, trying to make sure that their belongings had not been tampered with. But those great brown eyes under the rakish hat had glared a secret warning, and Frau Johann had despairingly abandoned her championship of the ladies.
In the adjoining sitting-room, the Grand Duchess had reason to know, were at that moment assembled some or all of the mysterious gentlemen stopping at the inn. They had probably been attracted to their window by the voices below; and the Grand Duchess courageously resolved that, at the slightest sign of impudence on the part of the luggage-carrier,70these noblemen should be promptly summoned by her to the rescue.
Her anxiety was even slightly allayed at this point in her reflections by the thought (she had not quite outgrown an inmate love of romance) that the Emperor himself might rush to the succour of beauty in distress. His friends were in the next room, having come down from the mountains at noon, and there seemed little doubt that he was among them. If he had not already looked out from the window, and been astonished at sight of so much loveliness, the Grand Duchess decided, upon an inspiration, that he must be induced to do so. She would help on Sylvia's cause and win her gratitude when the true story of this day should be told.
In a penetrating voice, which could not fail to reach the ears of those in the room adjoining hers, or the ears of the actors in the scene below, she adjured her daughter in English. This language was safest, she considered, as the desperado with the rücksacks could not understand and resent her criticism, while the flower of Rhaetian71chivalry next door would comprehend both the words and the necessity for action.
"Mary!" she shrieked, loyally remembering in her excitement the part she was playing. "Mary, where did you pick up that alarming-looking ruffian? I believe he intends to keep your rücksacks. Is there no man- servant about the place whom Frau Johann can call to her assistance?"
All four of the actors glanced up, aware for the first time of an audience. Had the Grand Duchess been less near-sighted, less agitated, she might have been surprised at the varying yet vivid expressions of the faces. But she saw only that the tall, dark-faced peasant, who had so glared at poor Frau Johann, was throwing off his burdens with sudden haste and roughness.
"I do hope he hasn't stolen anything," said the Grand Duchess. "Better not let him go until you have looked into your rücksacks. That silver drinking-cup youwouldtake up——"
She paused, not so much in obedience to Sylvia's quick reply, as in amazement at Frau Johann's renewed antics. Was it possible that the72landlady understood more English than her guests supposed, and feared lest the man with the bare knees—perhaps equally well-informed—might seek immediate revenge? Those bare knees alone were evidence against his character in the eyes of the Grand Duchess. They imparted a brazen, desperate air; and a man who cultivated so long a space between stockings and trousers might easily be capable of any crime.
"Oh, mother, you are very much mistaken. This excellent young man is a great friend of mine, and has saved my life," Sylvia was protesting; and her words began at length to penetrate the ears of the Grand Duchess. Overwhelmed by their full import, she suffered a sudden revulsion of feeling, which caused her to catch at the window-curtains for support.
"Saved your life!" she echoed. "Then you have been in danger. Thank heaven, the young man is not likely to know English, or I should not soon forgive myself. Here is my purse. Give it to him, and come indoors at once. You really look ready to faint."
So speaking, she snatched from a table close by her purse, containing73ten or twelve pounds in Rhaetian money; but before she could accomplish her dramatic purpose, flinging the guerdon literally at the misjudged hero's feet, Sylvia prevented her with an imploring gesture.
"He will take no reward for what he has done save our thanks, and those I give him now, for the second time," cried the girl. She then turned to the man, and made him a present of her hand, over which he bowed with the air of a courtier rather than the rough manner of a peasant. The Grand Duchess still hoped that the Emperor might be at the window, as really it was a pretty sight, and presented a pleasing phase of Sylvia's character.
She eagerly awaited her daughter's approach, and having lingered to watch with impatience the rather ceremonious parting, she hastened to the door of the sitting-room to welcome the travellers as they came upstairs.
"My darling, who do you think was listening and looking from the window next ours?" she breathlessly inquired, when she had embraced her recovered treasure for the secret of the adjoining room was too74great to keep. "You can't guess? I'm surprised at that, since you are not ignorant of a certain person's nearness. Why, who but the Emperor himself?"
"Then he must have an astral body—aDoppelgänger," said Sylvia, "since he has been with me all day, and that was he to whom you offered your purse."
The Grand Duchess sat down; not so much because she desired to assume the sitting position as because she experienced a sudden weakening of the knees. For a moment she was unable to speculate: but a poignant thought passed through her brain. "Heavens! what have I done? And it may be that one day he will become my son-in-law."
Meanwhile, Frau Johann—a strangely subdued Frau Johann—had droopingly followed the chamois-hunter into the house.
"My friend, you must learn not to lose your head," said he, when she had timidly joined him in the otherwise deserted hall.
"Oh, but Your Majesty—"
"How many times must I remind you that His Majesty remains in75Salzbrück or some other of his residences when I am at Heiligengelt? If you cannot remember, I must look for chamois elsewhere than on the Weisshorn."
"I will not forget again, Your—I mean, I will do my best. Yet never before have I been so tried. To see your noble and high-born shoulders loaded down as if—as if you had been but a commonGepäckträgerinstead of——"
"A chamois-hunter? Don't distress yourself my friend. I have had a very good day's sport."
"It has given me a weakness of the heart, Your—sir. How can I again order myself civilly to those ladies, who——"
"Who have afforded peasant Max a few amusing hours. Be more civil than ever, for my sake, friend. And, by the way, do you happen to know the names of the ladies? That one of them is Miss Collison, I have heard; but the others——"
"They are mother and daughter, sir. The elder, who spoke, in her ignorance, such treasonable things from the window, is called by the76Miss Collinson 'Lady de Courcy'. The younger—the beautiful one—is also a miss; and I think her name is Mary. They talk together in English, and though I know few words of that language, I have heard 'London' mentioned not once, but many times between them. Besides, it is painted in big black letters on their boxes."
"You did not expect them here?"
"Oh, no, sir. Had any one written at this season, when I am honoured by your presence, I should have answered that we were full, or the house closed—or any excuse which occurred to me. But no strangers have ever remained in Heiligengelt, or arrived, so late; and I was taken unawares when my son Alois drove them up last night. They are here but for a few days, on their way to Salzbrück, and so home, the pretty Miss de Courcy said; and I thought——"
"You did quite right, Frau Johann. Has my messenger come with letters?"
"Yes, Your—yes, sir; just now also a telegram was brought up by another messenger, who came in a great hurry, and has but lately gone." The chamois-hunter shrugged his shoulders and gave vent to77an impatient sigh. "It is too much to expect that I should be left in peace for a single day, even here," he muttered as he moved toward the stairs.
To reach Frau Johann's best sitting-room (selfishly occupied, according to one opinion, by the gentlemen absent all day upon the mountains) he was obliged to pass a door through which issued unusual sounds. Involuntary he paused. Some one was striking the preliminary chords of avolksliedon his favourite instrument, a Rhaetian improvement upon the zither. As he lingered, listening, a voice began to sing—such a voice! Softly seductive as the purling of a brook through a meadow; rich as the deepest notes of a nightingale in its first passion for the moon.
The song was the heartbroken cry of an old Rhaetian peasant, who, lying near death in a strange land, longs for the sunrise light on the mountain-tops at home, more earnestly than for heaven.
The listener did not move until the voice had died into silence. He78knew, though he could not see, who the singer had been. It was impossible for the fat lady at the window, or the thin lady with the Baedeker, to own a voice like that. Only one there was who could so exhale her soul in the perfume of sound. To his fancy, it was like hearing the fragrance of a lily breathed aloud. In reality, it was Sylvia, with childish vanity, showing off her prettiest accomplishment, in order that the impression she had made might be deepened.
The man outside the door had heard many golden voices—golden in all senses of the word—but never before one which so strangely stirred his spirit, stirred it with a pain that was bitter sweet and a vague yearning for something he had never known. If he had been asked what was the thing for which he sighed, he could not, if he would, have told; for a man cannot explain that inner part of himself which he has never even tried to understand.
Before he had thought of moving, the beautiful voice, no longer plaintive, but swelling to triumphant brilliancy, broke into the national anthem of Rhaetia warlike, calling her sons to face death79singing, in her defense. It was as if a rainbow shower of diamonds had been flung into the sunshine, and the heart of the man who stood at the head of his nation thrilled with the response that never failed.
"She is an Englishwoman, yet she sings the Rhaetian music as I have never known a Rhaetian girl sing it," he told himself, slowly passing on to his own door. "She is a new type of woman to me. A pity that she is not a Princess, or else—that Maximilian and Max the chamois-hunter are not two. Still, in such a case, the chamois-hunter would be no match for Miss de Courcy of London, so the weights would balance in the scales as unevenly as now."
He smiled, and sighed, and shrugged his shoulders once again. Then he opened the door of his sitting-room, to forget, among certain documents which urged the importance of immediate return to duty, the difference between Max and Maximilian, the difference between women and women.
"Good-bye to the mountains, to-morrow morning," he said to his chosen comrades. "Hey for work and Salzbrück again!"80
Shewas going to Salzbrück in a few days, according to Frau Johann. But Salzbrück was not Heiligengelt, and Maximilian the Emperor was not, at his palace, in the way of meeting tourists. It was good-bye to Miss de Courcy as well as to the mountains.
"She'll never know to whom she gave her ring," he thought, with the dense innocence of a man who has studied all books save woman's looks. "And I'll never know who gives her a plain gold one for the finger on which she once wore this."
But in the next room, divided from him by a single wall, sat Princess Sylvia of Eltzburg-Neuwald.
"When we meet again at Salzbrück, he must never dream that Iknewall the time," she was saying to herself. "Some day I shall long to confess. But I could only confess to a man who excused, because he loved me. And suppose that day should never come?"
81
LETTERS of introduction for Lady de Courcy and her daughter to those best worth knowing among Rhaetia'shaute noblessewere a part of the "plan" concocted in the Richmond garden—that plan which the Grand Duchess had seen and dreaded in Sylvia's shining eyes.
The widow of the Hereditary Grand Duke of Eltzburg-Neuwald was reported in the papers to be travelling with the Princess Sylvia in Canada and the United States. Fortunately for the plot, the elder lady had spent so many years in retirement in England, and had, even in her youth, met so few Rhaetians, that there was little fear of any embarrassingcontretemps. Her objections to the unconventional attempt to win a lover, instead of resting content with a mere husband, were based on other grounds; Sylvia had overcome them,82nevertheless; and, in the end, the Grand Duchess had proved not only docile but positively fertile in expedient. She it was who suggested, since the adoption of borrowed plumes was a necessity, that de Courcy, her mother's maiden name, should be chosen.
One friend only had been taken into Sylvia's fullest confidence, and that friend was a lady whose husband had been British Ambassador at the Rhaetian Court. She knew "everybody who was anybody" there, and had entered with a fearful joy into the spirit of the escapade. Exactly how it was to end she did not see; but so far as she was concerned, that was a detail; and she had written for Lady de Courcy all the letters needful as an open sesame to the Court.
Sylvia did not wish to hurry away from Heiligengelt to Salzbrück, even though the inn was empty (save for her own small party) two days after their arrival. They had met: the rest lay on the knees of the gods. And since the best sitting-room was now at the ladies disposal, it was but fair to Frau Johann that they should remain for a time, if only to83make use of it. When they left at last, after a stay of a week, it was to go to Salzbrück for the great festivities which were to mark the Emperor's thirty-first birthday, an event enhanced in national importance by the fact that the tenth anniversary of his succession would fall on the same date. On the day of the journey, the Grand Duchess had a headache and was cross.
"I don't see what you've accomplished so far by this mad freak," she said fretfully to her daughter, in the train which carried them away from Pitzbühel. "We've been perched on a mountain-top, like the Ark on Ararat, for a week, our marrow freezing in our bones; and, after all, what have we to show for it—unless an incipient influenza?"
Sylvia had nothing to show for it; at least, nothing that she meant to show; but in a little scented silk bag which nestled against her heart lay a tiny folded piece of blotting-paper. If you looked at its reflection in a mirror, you saw, written twice over, in a firm, opinionated hand, the name, "Mary de Courcy." And Sylvia had found it84in a book after Frau Johann had made the best sitting-room ready for new occupants. Therefore she loved Heiligengelt; therefore she thought with silent satisfaction of her visit there.
To learn her full name he must have made inquiries, for Miss M'Pherson had not uttered it on their progress down the mountain. It had been in his thoughts, or he would not have committed it to paper in a moment of idle dreaming. Through all her life Sylvia had known the want of money, but now she would not have taken a thousand pounds for the contents of the silken bag.
Hohenburg is the family name of Rhaetia's emperors; therefore everything in Salzbrück that can be Hohenburg is Hohenburg; and it was at the Hohenburgerhof, Salzbrück's grandest hotel, that a suite of rooms had been hired for Lady de Courcy's party.
They had broken the journey at Wandeck; and Sylvia had so timed it that they should arrive in Salzbrück an hour before the first of the ceremonies on the birthday eve—the unveiling by the Kaiser of the85great national statue of Rhaetia in the Maximilian Platz, exactly in front of the Hohenburgerhof. At the station they were told by the driver of their selected droschky that he would not be able to take the high, well-born ladies to the main door of the Hohenburgerhof, for the passage of carriages was forbidden in the Maximilian Platz, where the crowd had been assembling since dawn for the ceremony; and that he would be compelled to deposit them and their luggage at a side entrance. As they left the station, from far away came a burst of martial music, a military band playing the national air which the chamois-hunter had heard the English girl singing at Heiligengelt. The shops were closed for the day; from nearly every window hung a flag or banner, while the old narrow streets and the broad new streets were festooned with bunting, wreaths of evergreen, and autumn flowers. Prosperous citizens in their best, peasants in gay holiday attire, streamed toward the Maximilian Platz. It seemed to Sylvia that the air tingled with expectation; she thought that she must have felt the86magnetic thrill in it, even if she had shut her eyes and ears.
"We shall be in time. We shall see the ceremony from our windows," she excitedly said.
But at the hotel she encountered a keen disappointment. With many apologies the landlord explained that he had done his best for the ladies when he received their letter a week before, and that he had allotted them a good suite, with balconies, overlooking the river at the back of the house—the situation considered preferable on ordinary occasions. But, as to rooms in the front, it was impossible; they had all been taken more than six weeks in advance; one American gentleman was paying a thousand gulden for an hour's use of a small balcony leading off the drawing-room.
Sylvia was pale with disappointment. "I will go down into the crowd and take my chance," she said to her mother when they had been shown into the handsome rooms, so satisfactory in everything but situation.
"My dear—impossible," exclaimed the Grand Duchess. "I could not think of allowing it. Only fancy what a crush there will be—people trampling87on each other for places. You could see nothing."
"But I couldn't bear to stay shut up here," pleaded Sylvia, "while that music plays and the crowds shout themselves hoarse for the Emperor. Something inside me seems to say that I must be there. And Miss M'Pherson and I will take care of each other."
Somehow—she hardly knew how—consent was as usual wrung from the Grand Duchess's reluctance, the only stipulation being that Sylvia and her chaperon should keep close to the hotel, returning at once if they found themselves in danger of being borne away by the crowd.
Their rooms were on the first floor, and the girl hurried down the broad flight of marble stairs, without sending for the lift, Miss M'Pherson following upon her heels.
They could not get out by the front door, for people had paid for places there, and would not yield an inch even for a moment; while the two or three steps below and the pavement in front were closely blocked.
Matters began to look hopeless, but Sylvia would not yet be daunted.88They tried the wide entrance, and found it free, the street into which it led being comparatively empty; but beyond, where it joined the great open square of the Maximilian Platz, there was a solid wall of human beings.
"We might as well go back," said Miss M'Pherson, who had not Sylvia's keenness for the undertaking. She was comfortably fatigued after the journey, and would rather have had a cup of tea than see fifty emperors unveil as many statues.
"Look at that man just ahead," whispered the Princess; "hedoesn't mean to go back. Let us keep close behind him, and see what he is going to do. He has the air of one who has made up his mind to get something or do something, which he won't easily give up."
Miss M'Pherson brought a critical gaze to bear upon the person indicated. He was striding rapidly along, a few yards in advance, only his back being visible; but it was a singularly determined back; and it was clad in a gray and crimson uniform. On his head he wore a89cocked hat, adorned with an eagle's feather, fastened by a gaudy jewel. As Miss M'Pherson observed these details, she noted half unconsciously that the man's neck between the collar of his coat and the sleek black hair was yellow-white as old parchment.
"He looks like an official of some sort," she remarked. "Maybe the crowd will open to let him through."
"So I was thinking," hopefully responded Sylvia. "And when the crowd opens for him, if we're clever, it may open for us too. He's a hateful-looking man, and I have taken a dislike to him without a sight of his face; but we must use him as if he were a Cairene cyce."
"He reallyisgoing through!" exclaimed Miss M'Pherson.
They were close upon their unconscious pioneer now; and as—in peremptory tones—he informed the human wall that it must divide to let him pass, because he had come with a special message to the Lord Chancellor from the Burgomaster, the Princess Sylvia of Eltzburg- Neuwald could have laid her hands upon the gray shoulders, epauletted90with red.
The wall obeyed, evidently recognizing the authority of his uniform. "It must be the secretary of Herr Hermann, the Burgomaster," Sylvia heard one man murmur knowingly to another. "Something of importance has, perhaps, been forgotten, or special news has been received and must be reported."
Good-naturedly the crowd gave way for the new comer; and, to Sylvia's joy, she was sucked into the whirlpool in his wake. Near the front, people would have stopped her if they could, knowing that she, at least, had no official right of entrance; but at the critical instant the blue-and-silver uniformed band of Rhaetia's crack regiment, the "Kaiser's Own," struck up an air which told them the Emperor was approaching. Angry ones were content with keeping out the tall, thin English spinster in tweed, hustling and pushing her into the background, when she would shrilly have protested in her native tongue that "really,reallyshemustbe allowed to pass with her friend!"
The man who had announced his mission from the Burgomaster must have91felt that someone pressed after him with particularity, for, as he reached the front rank on the densely packed pavement, he wheeled sharply round. Sylvia, her little chin almost resting on his shoulder, met his gaze, shrinking away from the breath that swept hot across her cheek.
"Just the face I gave his back credit for," she thought ungratefully. "Sly and cruel, brutal, too—and, how curiously pale!"
A pair of black eyes, small, glassy, with a peculiar flatness of the cornea, had aimed at her a glance of suspicion; and she seemed still to feel their penetrating stare, when the face was turned away again. Having obtained his desire—a position in the front rank of the spectators, and incidentally a place for Sylvia too—the man in gray and red proceeded to take from his breast a roll of parchment, tied with narrow ribbon and sealed with a crimson seal.
Sylvia, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, had just time to wonder if the fellow were going to read some proclamation, when a great cheer arose from thousands of throats; men waved their hats;92peasant women held up their children, while ladies threw roses from the decorated balconies. A white figure on a white charger came riding into the square, under the gay-coloured triumphal arch of flags and flowers.
Others followed: men in rich dark uniforms, on coal-black horses; yet Sylvia saw only one, glittering white from head to foot, like hoar- frost in sunlight. Under the shining helmet of steel, the earnest face looked clear-cut as cameo. To the crowd he was the Kaiser—a fine, popular, clever young man, who ruled his country well, and, above all provided many a pleasing spectacle; to the girl he was an ideal St. George, strong and brave to slay modern dragons, right all crying wrongs.
How stately and splendid he looked, controlling the white charger, with its clanking silver trappings; how the jewelled orders on his breast sparkled, as he saluted his enthusiastic subjects!
"What if he should never love me?" Sylvia thought, as she often thought, with a sharp, jealous spasm of the heart.
Now he was vaulting from his horse, while men in uniforms, and men93with ribbons and decorations, came forward, bowing, to receive him. The ceremony of unveiling the statue of Rhaetia, executed by one of the world's most famous sculptors, was about to begin.
To reach the great crimson-draped platform on which he was presently to take his stand, the Emperor must pass within a few yards of Sylvia. His eyes travelled over the brightly coloured throng; what if they should fall upon her? The girl's heart was in her throat; she could feel it beating there, and for a moment the tall white figure was lost in a mist that rose before her eyes.
She had forgotten how she came there—forgotten the stranger in gray and red to whom she owed her great good fortune; when suddenly, while the mist was at its thickest, she grew conscious of the man's presence. So near her he stood, that a quick start, a gathering of his muscles for a spring, flashed like a message by telegraph through her own body. The mist clouding her senses was burnt up in the flame of a94strange enlightenment—a clarity of vision which showed not only the hero of the day, the crowd, and the man beside her, but the guilty soul of that man as well.
"He is going to kill the Emperor!"
It was as if a voice hissed the words into her ears; she knew now why she had struggled to win this place, why she had succeeded, what she had to do—or die in failing to do.
The Emperor was not half a dozen yards away. She alone had felt that murderous thrilling, heard that panting breath; she alone guessed what the roll of parchment hid.
While the crowd shouted for "Unser Max!" a figure, gray and red, leapt toward the white one, with clenched hand upraised, something sharp and bright catching the sun in a streak of steely light as it rose and fell.
Maximilian saw, yet not in time to swerve aside. The blade swooped hawk-like, scenting blood. A second's fraction, and it would have drunk deep—a Royal draught; but an arm struck it up and a girl was95sobbing; while for her the heavens above and the earth below merged together in whirling chaos.
* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
The man in red and gray was like a fox among the hounds; and the crowd, in the madness of sudden rage, would have rent him limb from limb, despite the cordon of police that quickly gathered round him; but the Emperor's ringing voice commanded instant obedience. Only those in the front ranks, or the windows above, had seen the attack and the unknown girl's intervention; yet the shouts of those who had witnessed the furious rush forward, the shrieks of the ladies on the balconies, flashed the news through the Maximilian Platz that there had been an attempt on the Kaiser's life. That little yellow man in the Burgomaster's red and gray—he who had pushed past everybody on the pretense of official business—he it was who had done the deed. Kill him—kill him!—trample him down, tear out the vile heart of him and fling it to the dogs! What of the police? This is not their affair, but the people's—the people who love "Unser Max" and would96die for the Kaiser. Away with the police!—but no—silence, silence for the Kaiser. What is he saying? "My people shall not be murderers; let the law deal with the madman—it is my command. Three cheers for the lady to whom your Kaiser owes his life, and then the ceremonies shall go on!"
Three cheers? Three times three, and split the skies with shouts for the Kaiser. How the women cry, when they ought to be laughing! A chance now for the police to hurry the limp thing in gray and red away out of sight and off to prison, for every one turns to the Emperor, just saved from the assassin's knife. He has sprung up the steps of the great crimson-covered platform, half carrying, half leading, a beautiful pale girl, who stifles her hysterical sobbing and tries to hide the blood that drips from a wound in her arm. Who is she? Has any one seen her before? God grant it is a Rhaetian who has had the good fortune and courage to save the Emperor's life! Yet what does it matter? There he stands, well and unhurt, holding her by his side,97that all the people may see her and give thanks. She is worthy to be a goddess in their eyes; the radiance of her beauty—as for a few seconds she stands gazing up into his face, then hiding hers between trembling hands—seems supernatural. It is only for a moment that they see her, as the shouts of praise to heaven, and the cheers for Maximilian and the stranger who saved him, drown the music for which a signal has been given; for the programme of the day is to be finished and the episode to be set aside.
"God keep our Kaiser!" the band plays; and as if the order of events had been undisturbed, the ceremony of unveiling the statue goes on.
98
IT IS those in the thick of battle who can afterward tell least about it, and to the Princess those five potent moments—the most tremendous, the most vital of her life—were in memory like a dream. She had felt a tigerish quiver run through the body of a man when the crowd pressed close against her; instinct was responsible for the rest. Vaguely she recalled later that she had run forward and thrown up the arm that meant to strike; an impression of the knife, as the light struck it, alone remained vividly in her mind. She had thought of the thud it would make in falling, of the life-blood that would spout from the rent in the white coat, among the jewels and decorations. She had thought of the blankness of existence for her in a world empty of Maximilian, and she had known that, unless she could99save him, it would be far better to die—then, in that moment.
More than this she had not thought or known. What she did was done well-nigh unconsciously, and she seemed to wake with a start at last, to hear herself sobbing, and to feel a sharp pain in her arm.
A hundred hands—not quick enough to save, yet quick enough to follow the lead she had given—had fought to seize the assassin, and prevent a second blow; while as for Sylvia, her work done, she forgot everything and every one but Maximilian.
It was he who kept her from falling, as the knife aimed at his heart struck her arm; he who held her, as she mechanically clung to him, half fainting—brave no longer, but only a frightened, weeping girl.
Sylvia heard him speak to the crowd—a few words that rang out through the furious babel like a cathedral bell. Still he held her; and she went with him up the steps of the red platform, because his arm compelled her, not by her own volition.
She hardly understood that the cheers of the multitude were for her as100well as for him; and words separated themselves with comprehensive distinctness for the first time, when, the necessity for public action over, the Emperor turned to whisper in her ear. "Thank you—thank you," he said. "You are the bravest woman in the world. I had to keep them from killing that coward, but now I can say to you what is in my heart. I pray heaven you are not much hurt?"
"Oh, no, not hurt, but very happy," breathed Sylvia, hardly knowing what she said. She felt like a soul without a body; what could it matter if her arm ached or bled? The Emperor was safe, and she had saved him—she!
He pointed to her sleeve. "The knife struck you. I would that I could go with you myself, when you have done so much for me. Yet duty keeps me here; you understand that. Baron von Lynar and the Baroness will take you home at once. They——"
"But I would rather stay and see the rest," said Sylvia. "I am quite well now, so that I can go down to my friend——"
"If you stay, you must stay here," said Maximilian. "After what you101have done; it is your place."
The ladies of the Court, who had with their husbands been waiting to receive the Emperor, crowded round her, as he turned to them with an expressive look and gesture. A seat was given her; she was a heroine, sharing the honours of the day with its hero.
There was scarcely agrande dameamong the distinguished company on the Emperor's platform to whom "Lady de Courcy" and her daughter had not a letter of introduction, from their friend. But no one knew at this moment of any other title to their acquaintance which the girl possessed, except the right conferred by her deed. All smiled on her with tearful eyes, though there were some who would have given their ten fingers to have had her praise and credit for their own.
Sylvia sat through the ceremonies, unconscious that thousands of eyes were on her face, aware of little that went on; scarcely seeing the statue of Rhaetia, whose glorious marble womanhood awakened the102enthusiasm of the throng, hearing only the short, stirring speech delivered by Maximilian.
When it was all over the people merely waiting to see the Emperor ride away and the great personages disperse, while the music played Maximilian turned once more to Sylvia. Every one was listening; every one was looking on, and, no matter what his inclination, his words could be but few. He thanked her again for her courage, and for remaining, as if that had been a favour to him; asked where she was staying in town, and promised himself the pleasure of sending to inquire for her health during the evening. His desire would be to call at once in person, but, owing to the programme of the day and those immediately following, not only each hour, but each moment, would be officially occupied. These birthday rejoicings were troublesome, but duty must be done. And then Maximilian finished by saying that the Court physician would be commanded to attend upon her at the hotel.
With this and a chivalrous courtesy of parting, he was gone from the103platform, Baron von Lynar, the Grand Master of Ceremonies, and his Baroness, having been told off as the fair heroine's escort home.
At another time, it might have amused the mischief-loving Sylvia to see Baroness von Lynar's surprise at learning her identity with the Miss de Courcy, of whom she had heard from Lady West. All the letters of introduction had reached their destination, it only remaining (according to Rhaetian etiquette in such matters) for Lady de Courcy to announce her arrival in Salzbrück by sending cards. But Sylvia had no thought for mischief now. She had been on the point of forgetting, until reminded by necessity, that she was only a masquerader, acting her borrowed part in a pageant. For the first time since she had voluntarily taken it up, that part became distasteful. She would have given much to throw it off, like a discarded garment, and be herself again. Nothing less than absolute sincerity seemed worthy of this day and its event.
But in the vulgar language of proverb, which no well-brought-up104Princess should ever use, she had made her bed, and she must lie in it. It would never do for her to suddenly announce that she was not Miss de Courcy, but Princess Sylvia of Eltzburg-Neuwald. That would not now be fair to her mother nor to herself; above all, it would not be fair to the Emperor, handicapped by his debt of gratitude. Miss de Courcy she was, and Miss de Courcy she must for the present remain.
Naturally, the Grand Duchess fainted when her daughter was brought back to her, bleeding. But the wound in the round white arm was not deep. The Court physician was both consoling and complimentary, and by the time that messengers from the palace had arrived with inquiries from the Emperor and invitations to the Emperor's ball, the heroine's mother could dispense with her sal volatile.
She had fortunately much to think of. There was the important question of dress (since the ball was for the following night); there was the still more pressing question of the newspapers, which must not be allowed to learn or publish the borrowed name of de Courcy, lest105complications should arise; and there were the questions which had to be asked of Sylvia. Howhadshe felt? How had shedared? How had the Emperorlooked, and what had the Emperorsaid? If it had been natural for the Grand Duchess to faint, it was equally natural that she should not faint twice. She began to see, after all, the hand of Providence in her daughter's prank. And she wondered whether Sylvia's white satin with seed pearls or the gold-spangled blue tulle would be more becoming for the ball.
Next day the papers were full of the dastardly attack upon the Emperor by a French anarchist, who had disguised himself as an employee in the official household of the Burgomaster, trusting to the abstraction of the crowd at the last moment before the ceremonies, for passing undiscovered and accomplishing his murderous design. There were columns devoted to praise of the extraordinary courage and beauty of the young English lady, who, with marvellous presence of mind, had106sprung between the Emperor and his would-be assassin, receiving on her own arm the blow intended for the Imperial breast. But, thanks to a few earnestly imploring words spoken in Baron von Lynar's ear, commands given to the "Besitzer" of the hotel, and the fact that Rhaetian editors are not yet permitted a wholly free hand, the young English lady was not named. She was a stranger; she was, according to the papers, "as yet unknown."
107
NOT a window of the fourteenth-century yellow marble palace, in its famous "garden of the nine fountains," that was not ablaze with light, glittering against a far, dark back ground of snow-capped mountains. From afar, the crowd who might not pass the carved lions or the statuesque sentinels at the gates, stared, and pointed, and exclaimed, without jealousy of their betters. "Unser Max" was giving a ball; it was for them to watch the glittering line of state coaches and neat closed carriages that passed in and out—striving for a peep at the faces, the grand uniforms and the jewelled dresses, commenting, laughing, wondering what there would be for supper and with whom the Emperor would dance.
"There she is—there's the beautiful young lady who saved him! Isn't she like an angel?" cried a girl in the throng. Up went a hearty108cheer, and the police had to keep back the good-natured flock that would have stopped the horses and pressed forward for a long look into a plain dark green brougham. Sylvia shrank out of sight against the cushions, blushing and breathing quickly, as she pressed her mother's hand.
"Dear people—dear, kind people," she thought. "I love them for loving him."
She had chosen to wear the white dress, though up to the last minute her mother had hesitated between the rival merits of seed pearls and gold spangles; and her beautiful face was as white as her gown, as the two ladies passed between bowing lackeys into the palace, through the great marble hall, on through the Rittersaal, to the throne-room, where the Emperor's guests awaited his coming.
It was etiquette for no one to arrive later than ten o'clock; and five minutes after that hour, Baron von Lynar, in his official capacity as Grand Master of Ceremonies, struck the floor thrice with his ivory gold-knobbed wand. This signified the approach of the Court from the Imperial dinner party, and Maximilian entered, with a singularly plain109Russian Royal Highness on his arm.
Until the moment of his arrival the lovely stranger (admitted here by virtue of her service to the Emperor) had held all eyes: and even when he appeared she was not forgotten. Every one wished to see how she would be greeted by a grateful monarch.
The instant that his proud head—towering above most others—was seen in the throne-room, it was observed, even by the unobservant, that never had Maximilian been so handsome. His was a face notable for strength and intellect rather than any conventional beauty of feature; but to-night the stern lines that sometimes marred his forehead were smoothed away. He looked young, almost boyish; there was an eager light in his dark eyes, and he gave the impression of a man who had suddenly found a new interest in life.
He danced the first dance with the Russian Royalty, who was the most important guest of the evening, and, still rigidly adhering to the line of duty (which obtains in Court ballrooms as on battlefields),110the second, third, and fourth dances were for Maximilian penances rather than pleasures. But for the fifth—a waltz—he bowed low before Sylvia.
Not a movement, scarcely a smile or a glance of hers that he had not seen, since his eyes first sought and found her, on the moment of his entrance. He had noted how well Baron von Lynar carried out his instructions regarding Miss de Courcy; he knew the partners who were presented to her for each dance, and to save his life or a national crisis he could not have worn the same expression in asking the Russian for a waltz as that which brightened his face in approaching Sylvia.
"Who is that girl?" inquired Count von Markstein in his usual gruff manner, as the arm of Maximilian circled the slim waist and the eyes of Maximilian rested on a radiant countenance upturned to his.
It was of Baroness von Lynar that the Chancellor asked his question, and she fluttered a diamond-spangled fan to hide smiling lips, as she111answered, "What, Chancellor—are you in jest, or do you really not know?"
Count von Markstein turned his cold eyes from the two figures, so close together, moving rhythmically as poetry—to the face of the middle-aged beauty. Once he had admired her as much as it was in his nature to admire any woman; but that day was long past, and now such power as she had left over him was merely to excite a feeling of irritation.
"I do not often jest," he answered slowly.
"Ah, we all know that truly great men have seldom a sense of humour," purred the Baroness, who was by birth an Austrian, and loved laughter better than anything else in the word—except her vanishing beauty. "I should have remembered, and not tried your patience. 'That girl,' as you somewhat brusquely call her, is the English Miss de Courcy, whose mother has come to Salzbrück armed with such sheaves of introductions to us all. And she it is who yesterday saved the most valued life in the Empire. They are staying at the Hohenburgerhof; I thought you must have known."
"I did not see the young lady's face yesterday," returned the112Chancellor, whose indifference to women and merciless justice to both sexes alike had early earned him the sobriquet of "Iron Heart." "As for what this girl did, if it had not been she who intervened, it would have been another. It was merely by a chance that her arm struck up the weapon first."
"Do you not think, then, that His Majesty does right to single her out for so much honour?" Baroness von Lynar's eyes were on the dancers, yet that mysterious skill which some women have, enabled her to see the slightest change of expression on the Chancellor's square, lined countenance.
"His Majesty could not do otherwise," he replied. "An invitation to a ball; a dance or two; a call to pay his respects; a gentleman could not be less gracious. And His Majesty is a most chivalrous gentleman."
"He has had good training." This with a smile and the dainty ghost of a bow to the man who had been as a second father to Maximilian, when his own father had died. "But—we are old friends, Chancellor" (it had113not been her fault that they were not more, in the days before she was Baroness von Lynar); "do youreallythink it will end with an invitation, a dance, and a call? Look at the girl's face, and tell me that?"
Old "Iron Heart" frowned and glared, and wondered what he had seen twenty years ago to admire in this woman. He would have escaped if he could, but he would not be openly rude to the wife of the Grand Master of Ceremonies; and besides, he was willing perhaps to show the lady that her innuendoes were as the buzzing of a fly about his ears.
"I am half-way between sixty and seventy, and no longer a judge of a woman's attractions," he retorted. "Even were she Helen herself, the invitation, the dance, and the call—with the present of some jewelled souvenir, perhaps—are all that are permissible in the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" was the innocent, questioning reply.
"The young lady is not of Royal blood. And His Majesty—thank God—is not aroué."
"But he has a heart, and he has eyes. He may never have used them114before. Yet there must always be a first time; and the higher and more strongly built the tower, the greater the fall thereof."
"Need we discuss improbabilities, Baroness von Lynar? Neither you nor I is the Emperor's keeper."
"We are his friends—his most intimate friends. And you and I have known each other for twenty years. It amuses me to discuss what you call 'improbabilities'. Come—for once, humour me, Chancellor. Not for the world would I hint that His Majesty is less than an example to all men, in honour: nor would I suggest that Miss de Courcy could be tempted to indiscretion. But yet I'd be ready to wager—the Emperor being human and the girl the most dazzling of beauties—that an acquaintance so romantically begun will not end with a ball and a call!"
"What could there possibly be more, madam—in honour?"
The Chancellor's voice shook with stifled anger, and he looked—so thought his quondam friend—with his square face, his wide nostrils,115and his prominent eyes—delightfully like a baited bull. The Baroness von Lynar was thoroughly enjoying herself. She well knew the old man's desire for the Emperor's marriage, and, though she was not in the secret of his plans, would have felt little surprise at learning that an eligible Empress had already been selected. What fun it was to ruffle the temper of the surly old bear! How much more fun it would be genuinely to alarm him for the success of his schemes!
"What could there be more?" she echoed. "Why, they will see much of each other. There will be many dances, many calls—in a word, a serial romance instead of a short story. Why should His Majesty not know the pleasure of a pure platonic friendship with a beautiful young woman?"
"Because Plato is out of fashion, and, as I have said, the Emperor is a man of honour," growled the Chancellor. "Even if—which I doubt—a woman could deeply influence his life——"
"You doubt that? Then you don't know the Emperor!"116
"If it were so, when he felt the danger he would keep aloof for the woman's sake. You tell me this English miss is at a hotel in Salzbrück. What would be said of her if Maximilian continually visited her there? To meet her incognito would be an insult. For the Emperor of Rhaetia to call upon a young woman day after day at the Hohenburgerhof would bring a storm of scandal about her ears. That would be but poor reward for the woman who saved his life."
Baroness von Lynar flushed faintly, under the delicate apology of her rouge. For the fraction of a second she looked rather blank, for she had insisted upon the argument, and it was going against her. She had not stopped to view the question from every side, in her haste to annoy the Chancellor. So far she had only vexed him, She owed him a great deal more than a petty stab of vexation—a debt which during twenty years, she had been repaying in small instalments. If she could prove her point now—or rather, if Maximilian would prove it for her, and she could wipe the slate clean once and forever from the117obligations of revenge, it would be something to live for. Yet how was that to be done, since Count von Markstein was in the right about his Imperial master?
But the wife of the Grand Master of Ceremonies was a woman of resource. The cloud on her still handsome face gradually lifted, and she beamed more brightly than before. The little pin-point prick she had inflicted need not be an anti-climax after all.
"Dear Chancellor, how well you know His Majesty!" she ejaculated. "If—being but a young man, and a hot-blooded one, despite his high principles and his former indifference to women—he should not stop to count the cost for himself, you would no doubt take advantage of your warm friendship to remind him?"
"I should indeed do so," said the Chancellor grimly, "were there the slightest chance of such necessity arising."
"It is but a piece with your well-known integrity and courage. What a comfort, therefore, that the necessity isunlikelyto arise!"
The old man stared her in the face. "I must have misunderstood you,"118he sneered. "I thought, in your opinion, the opposite conclusion was foregone?"
"But" (and the Baroness smiled her most charming smile) "suppose that Lady de Courcy and her daughter were not remaining at the hotel?"
The Chancellor's cold eyes brightened—for, in reality, she had given him an uneasy moment. "Ah—then they are going away?"
"I hear," returned Baroness von Lynar slowly, pleasantly, and distinctly, "that they have been asked to the country to visit one of His Majesty's oldest and most intimate friends."