The next month was the busiest of my life—not excepting those at the Point. I was learning to be Royal, and I was starting a generation and a half behind time. My hardest task was in meeting the Nobility. I had been bred a soldier and had despised the politician—secretly, however, as is necessary for the Army officer in America; but no rural candidate at a Fall election ever worked harder to ingratiate himself with the people and to secure their votes, than did I to win favor with the Lords and high officers of State. And, with it all, I could feel no assurance of success—for they were courtiers, and I had not yet learned to read behind their masks; though, here, Bernheim was invaluable. Indeed, he was a wonder. I have yet to find him miss his guess.
There were constant Cabinet meetings to attend, at which my views were expected; and this entailed a study of conditions and policies absolutely new to me. Then, I was delegated frequently by the King to represent him on occasions of ceremony; and, for them, I needed careful coaching. In fact, there were a thousand matters which occupied me to exhaustion. And, through it all, I was trying to get familiar with the organization and administration and methods of the Valerian Army, so as to be fitted to discharge the duties of my high rank. I confess this was my most congenial labor. If I might have been simply a soldier Archduke, I think I would have been entirely satisfied.
After a few weeks I had taken up my residence in the Epsau Palace—one of my recent inheritances—and there maintained my own Archducal Court. It was a bit hard for me to take myself seriously and to accept calmly the obsequious deference accorded me by everyone. I fear I smiled many times when I should have looked royally indifferent; and was royally indifferent when I should have smiled. I know there were scores of instances when I felt like kicking some of the infernally omnipresent flunkeys down the stairs. But I did not; for I knew that the poor devils were doing only their particular duty in the manner particularly proper.
Yet, there were compensations, so many and so satisfying, I never, for a moment, considered a return to my former estate. I was—I admit it—enamored of my rank and power; and, it may be, even of that very obsequiousness and flattery which I thought I despised. I know there was a supreme satisfaction when I passed through the saluting crowds in the Alta Avenue. It became almost elation when I rode upon the parade ground to take the Review and the March By.
During this month, I had seen the Duke of Lotzen very frequently. I had sat beside him at the Council table; I had dined with him formally as the new Archduke, and informally as his cousin. And, on my part, I had repaid his courtesies in kind. He had been thoughtful and considerate to me to an exceptional degree, but, at the same time, without undue effusiveness. In a word, he had treated me with every possible attention our rank and consanguinity demanded.
Even Courtney could find nothing to criticise in Lotzen's behavior; nor had his secret agents been able to detect anythingsub rosa.
"However, all this proves nothing one way or the other," he remarked one day, as we sat in my inner library. "If he intend the worst sort of harm to you he would begin just as he has."
I nodded.
"I suppose His Majesty knows of Lotzen's courtesies to you?"
"And is immensely gratified. Bernheim tells me the Duke never was in higher favor than at this moment," I answered.
"Exactly—and, therefore, the less likely a change in the Law of Succession. He uses you to play against you."
"And I am helpless to prevent it," said I.
"I may not refuse his civilities nor appear to question their intent."
"Heaven forfend!" Courtney exclaimed, with lifted hands. "Your counter attack is at the King, too. Keep him interested in you."
"I have, I think. I am the new Military Governor of Dornlitz."
"Wonderful, Major!—Your Royal Highness, I mean."
"Drop the R. H., please," I said; "stick to Armand or Major."
"Thank you, I shall, in private; it's handier. And when were you appointed?"
"It will be in the Gazette this evening. His Majesty offered it to me this morning."
"Does Lotzen know it?"
"I think not; it was due to a sudden shifting of Corps Commanders made yesterday."
"I would like a view of the Duke's private countenance when he hears it first," Courtney laughed. "It's the most desirable post in the Army; even preferable to Chief of Staff. It makes you master in the Capital and its Military District, a temporary Field Marshal, and answerable to none but the King himself."
"It's just that which makes me question the expediency of my accepting the detail," said I. "It's a post to reward long service and soldierly merit. I have not the former and have had no chance to prove the latter. I fear it will be bad for discipline and worse for my popularity."
Courtney laughed. "That might be true of the American Army—it's nonsense in a Monarchy. You forget you are of the Blood Royal—an Archduke—of mature years—with some experience in actual war—and, for all the Army and Court know, in line for the Crown. You are, therefore, born to command. There can be no jealousies against you. On the contrary, it will bring you followers. None but Lotzen and his circle will resent it, and they, already, are your enemies. The Governorship will make them no more so. Instead, it will keep them careful; for it will give you immense power to detect and foil their plots."
"Plots!" I exclaimed. "Do you fancy Lotzen would resort to murder?"
"Not at present—not until everything else has failed."
"You seem very sure," I remarked.
"Precisely that. You don't seem to realize that you have likely both lost him his desired wife and jeopardized his succession to the Throne. He might submit to losing the Princess, but the Crown, never. He will eliminate you, by soft methods if he can, by violent ones, if need be. Believe me, Major, I know the ways of Courts a little better than you."
I took a turn up and down the room. "I don't know that Lotzen isn't justified in using every means to defeat me. I am a robber—a highwayman, if you please. I am, this instant, holding him up and trying to deprive him of his dearest inheritance. And I'm doing it with calm deliberation, while, ostensibly, I'm his friend. If I attempt to steal his watch he would be justified in shooting me on the spot—why shouldn't he do the same when I try to filch from him the Valerian Crown?"
"No reason in the world, my dear Major, except that to steal a watch is a vulgar crime—but to plot for a throne is the privilege of Princes. And Princes do not shoot their rivals."
"With their own hands," I added.
Courtney bowed low. "Your Highness has it exactly," he said.
I shrugged my shoulders. "You flatter me."
"I speak only in general terms; they do not apply to you, my dear Major. You are not plotting to dethrone a King; you are simply trying, frankly and openly, to recover what is yours by birthright. Lotzen's real claim to the Crown is, in justice, subordinate to yours—and he knows it—and so does the King, or he would not have put you on probation, so to speak, with the implied promise to give you back your own again, if you prove worthy."
"That's one way to look at it," said I, "and I reckon I shall have to accept it. In fact, I'm remitted to it or to chucking the whole thing overboard."
Courtney smiled approvingly. "That's the reasonable point of view. Now, stick to it, and give Lotzen no quarter—you may be sure he will give you none."
"I shall countenance no violence," I insisted.
"One is permitted to repel force by force."
"I shall not hesitate to do that, you may be sure."
"Good!" said he. "Now we understand the situation and each other; and I can assist you more effectively."
"I shall advise you the moment anything new develops," said I.
"And remember, Major, to either you or Lotzen the Princess means the Crown. Frederick will be only too glad to pass it so to his own descendants."
"That's the truth," said I. "But I reckon the Princess doesn't need the Crown to get Lotzen or me."
"Do you realize how lucky it is, under the circumstances, that you are unmarried?" Courtney inquired.
"Rather—only, if I had chanced to be married, I would still be your Military Attaché. Frederick would never have given me the chance to be an Archduke."
"At least, it's sure he would never have given you a chance to be a King."
"And the American newspapers would have missed a great news item," I added.
"I never quite appreciated what a wonder you were until they told me," he laughed. "You seem to possess a marvellous assortment of talents—and, as for bravery, they have had you leading every charge in the Spanish War."
"It's all very tiresome," I said.
"It's one of the penalties of Royalty—to be always in the limelight and never in the shadow," he returned. "How does it feel?"
"Come around to-night to the Royal Box at the Opera and get into the glare, a bit," I said. "I am to take the King's place and escort the Princess."
"Is that a command?" he asked.
"Hang it all, Courtney——" I exclaimed.
"Because, if it isn't," he went on, "I shall have to decline. I'm dining with the Radnors and going on to the Opera with them."
I looked at him expectantly for a moment, giving him an opening to mention Lady Helen; but he only smiled and lit another cigarette. I understood he declined the opening. Indeed, he had never referred to Lady Helen since that first surprising time. But, if the gossip of the Diplomatic set, which, of course, reached the Court promptly, were at all reliable, another International marriage was not improbable. I admit I was a bit curious as to the matter—and here I saw my opportunity.
"If you will permit," said I, "I'll send an Aide to invite the Radnors and you to the Royal Box during the last act, and then, later, to be my guests at supper on the Hanging Garden."
"You're very kind, old man," said he; "and as for old Radnor you will endanger his life—he will just about explode with importance."
"I trust not," said I; "I like Lord Radnor—and then explosions are disconcerting at the Opera or a supper."
I had good reason, later, to remember this banter—for there was an explosion at the supper that night that was more than disconcerting; but Lord Radnor was in no way responsible.
When the Princess and I entered the Royal Box that night the applause was instant and enthusiastic. I kept a bit in the rear; the greeting was for her. And she smiled that conquering smile of hers that went straight to every individual in the audience as a personal acknowledgment. I had seen it frequently in the past month; yet, every time, to marvel only the more. Small wonder, indeed, that she was the toast of the Nation and the pride of the King. A million pities the Salic Law barred her from the succession. What a Queen Regnant she would make! Aye, what a Queen Consort she would be! What a wife!
Then the last high note of the National Air blared out and the Princess, turning quickly, caught my look and straightway read my thoughts. A sudden flush swept over her face and neck and she dropped her eyes. Silently I placed a chair for her; as she took it, her bare arm rested against my hand. The effect on me, in the stress of my feelings at that moment, is indescribable. I know I gasped—and my throat got hot and my heart pounded in sharp pain.
But I did not withdraw my hand—nor did the Princess remove her arm. Its soft, warm flesh pressed against my fingers—the perfume of her hair enveloped my face—the beat of her bosom was just below me.
A fierce impulse seized me to take her in my arms—there, before them all, the Court and the Capital. Reason told me to step back. Yet I could not. Instead, I gripped the chair fiercely, and, by that very act, pushed my fingers only more closely against her.
Was I dreaming—or did I feel an answering pressure, not once but twice repeated. I was sure of it. I bent forward. Quickly she looked up at me with eyes half closed.
"How cold your hand is, Armand," she said.
"Does it chill you, dear?" I whispered.
She smiled. "It never could do that," she answered. "But won't you sit beside me, now?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I said reluctantly. "Only, I'm nearer you as I am."
Then I took my chair, drawing it a trifle in the rear, so, being obliged to lean forward, I would be closer to her and could speak softly in her ear.
"You're very bold, Armand; you are always doing things so publicly," she said.
"It was an accident—at first."
"And afterward, sir?"
"Afterward, I was powerless."
"My arm would not believe you."
"Powerless to remove my hand, I mean."
"Powerlessness, with you, has queer manifestations," she said.
"Yes—sometimes it's passive and sometimes active."
"It was active, I suppose, that day in the King's cabinet, when you gave me that cousinly kiss."
"If we were not so public I would——"
She looked at me with the most daring invitation. "It is because we are so public that you are permitted to sit so near."
"Then, why blame me if I take the only opportunities you give me?" I asked.
She half closed her eyes and looked at me, side-long, through her lashes.
"Have I ever blamed you?" she asked.
"Dehra," said I, "if you look at me like that I shall kiss you now."
She closed her eyes a trifle more. "Where, Armand?" she said. "You have been kissing my hair every time I let it touch your lips."
"Let it touch them again, then," I whispered.
She turned her head sharply from me and, then, slowly back again; and her perfumed tresses, dressed low on her neck, brushed full and hard across my face, from cheek to cheek.
"There, cousin," said she; "am I not good?"
"Not entirely, when you call me 'cousin,'" I said, looking her in the eyes.
"Your Highness, then," she smiled.
"Worse still."
"Marshal."
"No better."
"Marshal would please most men," she said.
"There is only one name from you will please me, now," I answered.
She quite closed her eyes. "You are an autocrat to-night, Armand," she murmured.
"I'm your lover, sweetheart; your lover to-night and always," I said impetuously.
She opened her eyes wide and looked into mine with that calm, deep search which only a good woman has power to use. I knew, and trembling waited. What she saw in my eyes then she would see there always—in storm, in sunshine—in youth and in old age.
Then, suddenly, her glance dropped and a blush stole slowly across her cheek.
"To me, dearest," she said softly, "you have been a lover since that day in the forest when you were only Captain Smith."
I bowed my head. "You Princess of women," I said. "How near I was to losing you."
She turned and deliberately let her hair rest on my face a moment.
"There, dear," said she, "is my first kiss to you. I shall have to wait a bit for yours to me."
"And you really want my kiss, Dehra?" I asked doubtingly. Small wonder, indeed, I was slow to realize my fortune.
"You great stupid," she laughed. "Can't you understand I have wanted it for six long years?"
"I think," said I, "I'm dreaming."
"For a dreamer, you're wonderfully brave," she said. "Do you appreciate that you had the audacity to propose to the Princess Royal of Valeria while she sat in the Royal Box before all the fashion of Dornlitz?"
"My dear," said I, "I would propose to her a dozen times under like conditions if I thought, at the end, she would do as she has done to-night."
"If she had known that, she might have put you to the test."
"It would have made her wait only the longer for that kiss she wants," I said.
"Oh, I fancy, sir, she could have had your kiss without accepting you. She needed only to give you half a chance."
"I think," said I, "even less than half a chance from you, dear, would have been successful."
She studied her fan a moment. "From me,only?" she asked.
"From you, only," I said. "It would require a trifle more than half a chance from anyone else."
"Even from the Lady Helen Radnor?" she asked.
I watched her face a moment. There was, I felt, only one way to play this out.
"Well," I answered, "it might be that an even half chance would suffice from her."
"It took rather less than that at the Birthday Ball, didn't it?"
I had the grace to keep silent—or, maybe, I was too surprised to know an answer. I did not have the courage to meet her eyes. I stared into the audience, seeing no one, thinking much—hoping she would speak; but she did not.
Presently I turned, looking like a whipped child, I know, and met Dehra's smiling face.
"Tie my slipper, dear," she said, "the ribbon has come undone."
"You sweetheart!" I said. "You sweetheart!"
She drew her gown back from the footstool, and I slowly tightened the silken bands over the high-arched instep—very slowly, I confess.
"You're very naughty, Armand," she said, shaking her head in mock reproof.
"Doesn't the other shoe need fastening?" I asked.
"No, sir—and, if it did, I would have the Countess tie it."
"Bother the Countess," I said. (The Countess Giska was the Princess's chief Lady in Waiting—and she and my aide-de-camp, Moore, were in the rear of the Box, which, fortunately, was sufficiently deep to put them out of ear-shot.)
"Or, I might ask Major Moore. I think he would be glad to do it," she said.
"He would be a most extraordinary Irishman if he were not more than glad," I said. "But, when I'm around, Dehra, the pleasure is mine alone."
"Goodness, Armand, you would not be jealous?" she mocked.
"I don't know what it's called," said I, "but that's it."
"Haven't you ever been jealous, dear?" she asked.
"I never cared enough for a girl to be jealous," I said.
"I fancy you've cared for so many you had no time to entertain the Green-eyed Monster," she said.
I evaded the thrust. "Has he ever visited you?" I asked.
She ignored the question.
"Isn't Lady Helen beautiful to-night?" she said—and smiled a greeting toward the British Ambassador's Box.
Instantly, Lord Radnor and Courtney arose and bowed low. I returned the salute in kind.
"Tell me," I said. "Were you ever jealous?"
She kept her eyes on the stage. Carmen was the opera, but, thus far, I had not heard a single note.
"I am waiting for you to answer my question," she said, presently.
"I fear I missed it," I replied.
"Queer, surely—it was about Lady Helen. I asked if she were not beautiful to-night."
"She is always very handsome," I said. "And she looks particularly well in blue."
Dehra smiled slyly. "It's the same gown she wore at the Birthday Ball."
I bit my lip—then, suddenly, I got very brave.
"Tell me," I said. "How did you know I kissed her, that night?"
"I saw it."
"The Dev—! Oh!" I exclaimed. I was brave no longer. I got interested in the opera. Presently, I ventured to glance at Dehra—she was laughing behind her fan. Then I ventured again.
"I hope," said I, "I did it nicely."
"Most artistically, my dear Armand. Escamillo, yonder, could not do it more cleverly."
I winced. It is not especially flattering to an Archduke to be classed with a toreador—and Carmen's toreador, least of all. Yet, I recognized the justice of the punishment. Bravery had failed twice; it was time to be humble.
"I am sorry, Dehra," I said.
"Of course you are, sir, very sorry—that I saw you.—And so was I," she added.
"Was?" I echoed.
"It gave meun mauvais quart d'heure."
"No longer than that?" tasked.
"No; it lasted only until I had you to myself on the terrace, a little later."
"And then?" I queried.
"Then? Then I was no longer jealous of the Lady Helen. Your eyes told me there was no need."
"There never has been anyone but you, my darling," I whispered.
"And never will be, Armand?" she asked.
"Please God, never," I said; and, forgetting where we were, I made as though to take her hand.
"Not now," she smiled. "Wait until after the Opera."
"It will be a longer wait than that," I said regretfully. "I have told Courtney I would invite the Radnors and him to take supper with me on the Hanging Garden, to-night."
"Why don't you say 'take supper withus'?"
"You mean it, Dehra?" I asked in surprise. "You have always refused, hitherto; and I have asked so often."
She smiled. "Hitherto was different from now," she said.
"Thank God for the now," I added.
"We might bid them here for the last act," she suggested.
"I have presumed to hint as much to Courtney," I said; and told her how it had all come about in my talk with him that morning.
"Delightful!" she exclaimed. "And we will have a jolly party on the Garden—and let us be just like ordinary folk and have a public table—only, a little apart, of course."
"It shall be as you want," I said, and dispatched Major Moore to the Radnor Box with the invitation.
When he returned, I stepped into the corridor and gave him explicit instructions as to the supper. I had encouraged both him and Bernheim to intimate when I was about to make an Archducalfaux pas, and I saw he did not approve of the public table. But I gave no heed. I knew perfectly well it was violating official etiquette for the Princess to appear there at such an hour; but it was her first request since—well, since what had occurred a few minutes before—and I was determined to gratify her. And Moore, being a good courtier, and knowing I had observed his warning, made no further protest, but saluted and departed on his mission.
When I rejoined Dehra she had moved forward and was looking over the audience.
"I have found an ex-compatriot of yours," she remarked.
"Yes?" I said, rather indifferently.
"She has just come into the third box on the right. She is wonderfully beautiful—or, at least, she looks it from here."
"I've got someone wonderfully beautiful beside me," I answered.
"But have you no interest in the American?" she asked.
"None—except that she interests you. In the third box, did you say?" I asked, turning slowly toward it.
"Why, Armand, you know her!" said Dehra, suddenly.
Trust a woman to read a man's face.
"Yes," said I, "I have seen her before to-night."
She gave me a sharp look. "And have known her, too—n'est ce pas?"
"Yes—after a fashion," I answered.
She studied the woman for a space.
"Is that her husband behind her?" she asked, presently.
I smiled. "Very possibly," I said.
"Had she a husband when you knew her?" she persisted.
"Part of the time." I was a bit uncomfortable.
"And the man, yonder, is not he?"
"No," said I.
She gave me a sidelong glance. "And her name?" she asked.
"It used to be Madeline Spencer."
"You showed excellent taste, Armand—both in her looks and name." There was something of sarcasm in the tone.
"Don't be unjust, sweetheart," I said. "She never was anything to me."
"Are you quite sure?".
"On my honor."
She gave a little sigh of relief. "I am glad, dear; I would not want her for a rival. She is much too beautiful to be forgotten easily."
"The beauty is only external. She is ugly in heart," I said. "I wonder what brings her to Dornlitz?"
"The man beside her, doubtless," said Dehra.
"Then he's spending money on her like water—or she has some game afoot," I exclaimed.
"You paint her very dark, dear."
"Listen," I said. "She was the wife of Colonel Spencer of the American Army. He married her, one summer, in Paris, where he had gone to meet her upon her graduation from a convent school. She was his ward—the child of the officer who had been his room-mate at the Point. Within two years Colonel Spencer was dead—broken-hearted; a wealthy Lieutenant of his regiment had been cashiered and had shot himself after she had plucked him clean. Since then, she has lived in the odor of eminent respectability; yet, as I know, always waiting for a victim—and always having one. Money is her God."
"And, yet, there seems to be nothing in her appearance to suggest such viciousness," said Dehra.
"Nothing," I said; "and, hence, her danger and her power."
"You knew her when she was Colonel Spencer's wife?"
"I met her at the Post where he commanded—and, later, I saw her in Washington and New York. She had been in Pittsburgh for several months before I left—angling for some of thenouveaux riches, I fancy. There was plenty of gossip of her in the Clubs; though I, alone, I think, know her true history."
"And you did not warn anyone of her?"
"So long as she let my friends alone I cared not what pigeon she plucked. And the very fact that she knew I was in Pittsburgh, was enough to make her shy of anyone I would likely care for."
Dehra laughed lightly. "Maybe you were a little bit afraid of her, yourself," she said.
"Maybe I was," I admitted; "for she has a fascination almost irresistible—when she choose to exert it."
Dehra looked at me steadily.
I understood.
"Yes," said I, "she has made a try at me; once in New York; again, and only recently, in Pittsburgh. I escaped both times, thank God."
"She may make another try at you here."
I laughed. "She failed twice in America; she can scarcely win in Dornlitz when you are beside me."
"But I'm not always beside you," she objected.
"Not physically," I said.
"What chance would a mentality have against that woman's actual presence?" she asked.
"It would depend entirely on the man, and I am immune—thanks to Spencer's dead face and your sweet one."
Dehra smiled brightly. "Spencer's dead face is a mentality infinitely more potent than my living one; but I think the two should hold you. Yet, I hate that woman yonder. I believe she has dared to follow you here."
I shook my head. "Never in my life have I used words to woman such as I used to her in Pittsburgh. Oh, no, she has not followed me."
"Then, why is she here—so soon after your coming?" Dehra persisted.
"Why do thousands visit Dornlitz every month?" I asked.
"She is no casual visitor."
"Very likely," I agreed. "Madeline Spencer is not the sort to do casual travelling. She has an object—but it is not I."
"I wish I could feel secure of it."
"Do you mean it's I you doubt, dear?" I asked.
She gave me her sweetest smile. "I shall doubt you, Armand, only when you yourself order me to—and, even then, I may disregard the order."
Before such love a man falls abject in his absolute unworthiness.
"I don't deserve such trust, sweetheart," I answered humbly—and I think my voice broke in the saying.
"I'll risk it," she replied. "If I were as sure that woman's presence meant no harm to you I would be altogether easy."
"What harm could she possibly do to an Archduke of Valeria?" I laughed.
"None that I can imagine, I admit—unless she seek to discredit you with the King."
"But from what possible motive?"
"Revenge for your double scorning of her."
I laughed. "Madame Spencer has no time for such foolishness as revenge."
"I hope you may be right, dear; but a woman's intuition bids you to beware."
"Would you like to have the authorities look into her business here?" I asked.
"Yes, I surely would."
Just then Major Moore entered. I motioned him forward.
"Everything is arranged for on the Garden as Your Highness ordered," he reported.
I thanked him. "One thing more, Major," I said. "My compliments to the senior officer of the Secret Police on duty here to-night, and ask him to send me, in the morning, a full report on the parties occupying the third box on the right in this row. And do you take a good look at them yourself; it may be well for you to know their faces."
"What a satisfactory Aide," said Dehra. "His eyes didn't even waver toward that other box."
"Not only that," I answered; "but, when Moore does do his looking, those in that box won't know it, you may be sure."
Then the bells rang for the last act—and the Radnors and Courtney were announced.
To those who have never been to Dornlitz I may say that the Hanging Garden is the name for the great balcony of the Hotel Metzen. It suggests—very faintly—the Terrace at Westminster; though, of course, it is far more beautiful, with the dancing waters of Lake Lorg instead of the dirty, sluggish Thames. It is the peculiarly fashionable restaurant, and is always thronged in the evening with the aristocracy of the Kingdom. To-night, the extreme end of the balcony had been reserved for me, and a very slight bank of plants was arranged to separate us from the general crowd.
Just before the final curtain, His Highness of Lotzen had strolled into the Royal Box. To my surprise he congratulated me very heartily upon my appointment as Governor of Dornlitz; and, perforce, I invited him to join us at supper.
He hesitated a moment, and I urged him to come. In fact, I felt a bit sorry for him. He had just lost the Princess and, with her, likely, his chance at the Throne, as well. And I had won the one and, very possibly, the other, also. I could afford to be generous. After to-night, however,—when he had learned of these facts—it would be for him to indicate as to our future attitude. For my part, I was quite willing to be friendly.
The entrance of my party made something of a sensation. To reach our table, we were obliged to pass down the Garden almost half its length and the people arose instantly and bowed.
To Lotzen, this deference was such an ordinary incident of his daily life he, doubtless, scarcely noticed it. But I was still fresh in my Royalty and it did attract me—though, I think I appreciated what he did not; that their courtesy was, in truth, to the Princess only, and not to us. Indeed, it would have been just the same if the King himself had been with us. When Dehra was in presence the people had eyes for her alone.
The supper was deliciously cooked; the wine was excellent; the service beyond criticism. I had given the two Ambassadors to Dehra and had put Lady Helen between Lotzen and myself, with Lord Radnor on the Duke's left.
We were a merry party. Dehra was positively bewitching and Radnor was simply fascinated. He could scarcely take his eyes from her, even when addressed by Lotzen; which was very little, for the Duke devoted himself very assiduously to Lady Helen. So I was remitted to Lady Radnor, who was about the most tiresomely uninteresting mortal it had been my misfortune to know—a funeral service was an extravaganza in comparison to her talk. In Washington, my rank had never entitled me to a seat at her side at dinner; and many was the time I had chaffed Courtney, or some other unfortunate, who had been so stranded beside Her Ponderousness. To-night, however, my turn was come, and Courtney was getting his revenge.
My only solace were the occasional smiles that Dehra gave me—smiles that Courtney noted instantly and, I fancied, understood; and that Lotzen intercepted; but what he thought I did not know and did not care. Who ever cares what his defeated rival thinks!
We had been there for, possibly, half an hour when, happening to glance outward, I saw Madeline Spencer and an elderly woman, and the man who had been in the box with her, coming slowly down the Garden. It chanced that a table near us had just been vacated and they were shown to it by the head-waiter, whose excessive obsequiousness proved the size of his tip.
Mrs. Spencer gave our party a single quick glance, as she drew off her gloves, and then fell to conversing with her companions.
All this I had noted out of the corner of my eye, as it were. I had not the least doubt she had recognized me at the Opera, and I did not intend to give her a chance to speak to me—which I knew she would try to do, the Pittsburgh experience notwithstanding, if she thought it might further her present plans or pleasures.
Lotzen, however, had been drinking rather freely and was not so chary with his glances. Indeed, he stared so frankly that Lady Helen did not hesitate to prod him about it.
"I would take her to be an American," I heard him say.
"Without a doubt," Lady Helen answered.
Inwardly, I consigned the Spencer woman to perdition. They would be interrogating me about her, next; and I did not know just how to answer. I would have to admit knowing her; that would only whet their curiosity and bring further questions. To tell the whole story was absurd—and, yet, only a little of it would leave a rather unpleasant inference against me. At any rate, on Dehra's account, I did not want the matter discussed.
I could feel Lotzen's glance, and I knew he was waiting only for a break in Lady Radnor's discourse. I gave him as much of my back as possible, and encouraged her to proceed. She was on the Tenement House problem; but I had no idea what she was advocating, in particular. I did not care. All I wanted was talk—talk—talk. And, whenever she showed signs of slowing up, I flung in a word and spurred her on again.
And she responded nobly; and I marvelled at her staying powers—at Lord Radnor's fortitude through so many years—at Lady Helen being the child of such a mother. But, all the time, I was conscious of Lotzen waiting—waiting—waiting. I could hear his voice and Lady Helen's merry laugh, yet I knew nothing but the ending of the supper and the breaking of the party, with Lady Radnor still riding her hobby, would save me from the question. I threw in another remark to keep her going. It was fatal.
Lord Radnor heard it; and, catching his wife's reply, I saw him frown.
"Lord bless us!" he exclaimed to the Princess and Courtney, "we must rescue His Highness—Lady Radnor is on the Tenement problem."
I tried to signal Courtney to keep Radnor occupied; but he did not understand, and only smiled and whispered something to the Princess. Then Lord Radnor caught his wife's eye and the old lady's discourse ended abruptly.
"I fear I weary Your Royal Highness," she said.
"On the contrary, I am deeply interested," I assured her. "Pray continue."
Her glance wandered eagerly across the table, but she got no encouragement from the Ambassador.
"Your Highness is very gracious," she said, "and, sometime, if you are so minded, I shall gladly show you the late reports from the London Society."
I dared not urge her further; Lord Radnor would have suspected me of making sport of his wife. So I cudgelled my brain for some other subject to talk up with her. Of course, I failed to find it instantly, and, in the momentary silence, Lotzen's opportunity came.
"Armand," he said, leaning a bit forward, "Lady Helen and I have been discussing the woman in black, yonder—the pretty one. We take her to be an American—what is your opinion?"
The whole table heard the question, and every one looked at the lady—either immediately or when they could do it with proper discretion.
"You mean the woman with the elderly couple, just near us?" I asked, glancing thither, and so on around to the Princess, who met me with a smile.
"The same," said Lotzen.
"You're quite right," said I; "she is an American."
"You know her?" he asked.
"I used to know her."
He hesitated a moment—and, of course, everyone waited. "Couldn't you still know her enough to present me?" he asked.
I shook my head. "You would be most unfortunate in your sponsor," I answered.
He smiled indulgently. "I'll risk it," he said.
"But, maybe, I won't," I answered.
His smile broadened. "Come, come, cousin mine," he said; "don't be selfish with the lady."
I smiled blandly back at him, though my hand itched to strike him in the face.
"My dear Duke," I said, "you forget I may not yet have had time to acquire certain of the—dilettante accomplishments of Royalty."
His expression changed instantly. "I beg your pardon, Armand," he said, "I was only joking."
I saw Courtney glance at Lady Helen and slowly shut one eye. He knew, as did I, that Lotzen lied.
"There is naught to pardon, cousin," I said. "We both were joking."
Then Lady Helen came to my relief.
"But there is considerable for Her Royal Highness and me to pardon," she said.
"Yes," said I, "there is."
"I take all the blame," Lotzen interrupted. "I alone am guilty; proceed with the judgment."
"What shall it be?" said Lady Helen to the Princess.
Dehra shrugged her pretty shoulders and raised her hands expressively.
"The only punishment that fits the crime is to deprive the Duke of Lotzen of all wine for the rest of the evening."
It seemed to me the Duke winced.
"Your Highness is severe," he said.
She looked him straight in the eyes. "On the contrary, cousin, I am kind to put it so—and you know it."
But Lotzen's equanimity was not to be disturbed. He smiled with engaging frankness.
"The Queen can do no wrong," he said, and bowed over the table.
Just then, Madeline Spencer arose and I breathed a sigh of relief—she was going. The next instant I almost gasped. Instead of going, she came swiftly toward us—passed the low bank of plants—and straight to me.
I arose—all the men arose—and bowed stiffly. She hesitated and seemed a bit embarrassed—then, suddenly, held out her hand to me.
"I am afraid, Armand," she said, "you are not glad to see me."
Armand! Armand! Lord, what nerve! A rush of sharp anger almost choked me, yet I tried to look at her only in calm interrogation.
"I think, Mrs. Spencer," I said, just touching her hand, "almost every man is glad to see a pretty woman."
She gave me a look of surprise; then, threw up her head, disdainfully.
"You called me 'Mrs. Spencer'?" she asked.
I looked at her in surprise. "I was not aware you had changed your name," I answered.
She took a step backward. "You were not aware of what?" she exclaimed.
"That you were no longer Mrs. Spencer," I said—a trifle curtly, maybe. I thought she was playing for a presentation to the Princess and I had no intention of gratifying her, even if I had to be rude to her deliberately.
She passed her hand across her brow and stared at me incredulously. I turned half aside and glanced around the table. Every face but three showed blank amazement. Of those three, the Princess's wore a tolerant smile; Lotzen's a frown; but Courtney's was set in almost a sneer. And, at it, I marvelled. Later, I understood; he had, by some queer intuition, guessed what was to follow.
When I came back to Mrs. Spencer her expression had changed. The incredulous look was gone; bright anger flamed, instead.
"Do you still persist, sir, that you do not know my rightful name?" she demanded.
From my previous acquaintance with the lady I knew she was working herself into a passion; though, why, I could not imagine.
"My dear Madame," I said, "why such pother over such a trifle? If your name be, no longer, Madeline Spencer, tell me what it is. I shall be profoundly glad to call you by it—or any name than Spencer," I added.
She felt the thrust and her eyes answered it. Then, suddenly, she turned and faced those at the table.
"Your pardon," she said, speaking straight at Lord Radnor, "will you tell me if this man here"—waving her hand toward me—"is Major Armand Dalberg?"
Lord Radnor bowed. "That gentleman is His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Armand of Valeria," he said.
"Erstwhile, Major of Engineers in the American Army?" she asked.
"I believe so, Madame," said his Lordship, stiffly.
"Thank you," she said. "And now——"
But I broke in. "Madame," I said sharply, "you have presumed beyond forbearance. Major Moore, will you escort the lady to her companions."
Moore stepped forward and, bowing very low, offered his arm. Like a flash, her face changed and she met him with a smile.
"Just a moment, if you please," she said, with softest accents. Then, with studied deliberation, she turned her back on me and swept the Princess an elaborate courtesy.
"Your Royal Highness may pardon my intrusion," she said, "when I tell you that I am Armand Dalberg's wife—— Now, Major Moore, I am ready," and she put her hand upon his arm.
But Moore never moved. Instead, he looked at me for orders.
Language is utterly inadequate to describe my feelings at that moment; so I shall not try. Imagination is better than words. I know I had an almost uncontrollable impulse for violence—and I fancy Courtney feared it, for he stepped quickly over and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Thank you, old man," I said. Then I looked at the Princess.
She was leaning carelessly back in her chair, watching the Spencer woman through half-closed eyes—-a bright flush on each cheek and: a faint smile, half sneer, half amusement, on her lips. Suddenly she looked at me, and the smile flashed out into such an one as she had given me in the Royal Box.
My heart gave a great bound—I knew she trusted me, still. I turned to the woman in black.
"Is it possible, Madame, that you claim to be my wife?" I asked.
She dropped Moore's arm and took a step toward me—and, as I live, there were tears in her eyes.
"What has changed you, Armand?" she asked. "Why do you flout me so?"
I stared at her. "God help me, woman, you must be crazy!" I said.
She put out her hand appealingly. "You don't mean that, dear, surely?" And, now, the tears were in her voice, too.
"What I mean, Madame, is that you are either crazy or playing some game," I answered curtly.
She brushed aside the tears and gave me a look of almost heart-broken appeal.
"Why do you deny me, Armand?" she cried. "Have I grown ugly in the last few months? Has the beauty you used to praise turned so soon to ashes?"
Unfortunately, for me, her beauty had not turned to ashes. She was, at that very moment, the handsomest woman I had ever seen—save only the Princess. The slender figure—the magnificent neck and shoulders—the roll upon roll of jet-black hair—the almost classic face—and all in distress and trouble.
She was a picture, surely; and one that was making its impression; judging from the faces of Lord and Lady Radnor. I changed my manner.
"My dear Mrs. Spencer," I said kindly, "no one may deny your beauty—and I, least of all. But I do deny that I am your husband. You are, evidently, ill, and laboring under some queer hallucination."
She shook her head. "You know perfectly well, Armand, I am not ill nor under a delusion," she said, and looked me straight in the eyes.
"Then, Madame, you are a wonderful—actress," I answered.
Again the tears welled up, and one trickled slowly down her cheek. She turned quickly and made as though to go. But Courtney stayed her.
"My dear Madame," he said, with that gracious courtesy of his, which I have never seen equalled by courtier of any Court, "may I ask you a question?"
She inclined her head in answer and waited.
"You have claimed a Royal Duke of Valeria as your husband, and he has denied the claim. It is a most serious matter. It was done in the presence of many witnesses, and your words, or some of them, were, doubtless, overheard by those at nearby tables. The Capital will be full of the affair; and the results may be most unfortunate for you, and for His Highness. I am the American Ambassador; here is the Ambassador of His Majesty of England; and, yonder, is His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Lotzen, Heir Presumptive to the Valerian Throne——"
"Your speech is long, sir," she said; "please come to the question."
Courtney bowed. "I was but trying to explain why I ventured to meddle in Madame's business," he said.
She smiled wearily. "Your pardon, Monsieur; pray proceed."
"The question I want to ask is this," said Courtney: "Will you not tell us when and where you became the wife of Armand Dalberg?"
"Yes, Monsieur, and gladly—and I thank you for the thought. I was married to Armand Dalberg—then a Major in the American Army—on the twenty-first day of last December in the City of New York."
(That was only two months before I had sailed for Valeria; and I had been in New York that very day.)
"And by whom, pray?" I exclaimed.
"By the official you provided," was the curt reply. Then, to Courtney, she added: "I don't recall his name but my certificate shows it, I suppose."
"And you have the certificate with you?" he asked.
"It is somewhere among my luggage. If you care to see it I shall try to find it to-morrow."
"Thank you, Madame," Courtney answered.
Then Lotzen took a hand.
"Will Madame permit me, also, to ask her a question?" he said.
"Certainly, Your Highness," she answered, and would have curtsied had he not waved her up.
"Was the marriage secret?" he asked.
The answer was instant: "It was private but not secret."
"Then, why is it that Major Dalberg's record in the War office in Washington makes no mention of this marriage? I happen to know it does not."
"I do not know," she answered, rather tartly. "It was not, I assume, my duty to report it."
"And, further, Madame," Lotzen continued. "If Major Dalberg were lucky enough to marry you, why, in Heaven's name, should he deny you within a few short months?"
"I might guess one of the reasons," she answered languidly—and let her eyes rest upon the Princess.
And Dehra laughed in her face.
Lotzen shrugged his shoulders and was silent.
"Are there any more questions, Messieurs?" she asked.
No one answered.
"Then, with your permission, I will obey my husband's orders and withdraw," she said mockingly. "Major Moore, your arm."
When she was gone, Lotzen turned to me and held out his hand.
"I'm with you, Armand," he said heartily. "She's no wife of yours, certificate to the contrary notwithstanding."
I thanked him gratefully—the more so since it was so totally unexpected. Then, without giving the others an opportunity to express their opinion (they would, of course, have been constrained to agree with the Heir Presumptive; all except the Princess, and, of her, I had no doubt) and addressing, particularly, the Radnors, I said:
"The supper is spoiled beyond repair, I fear, but I shall ask you to go on with it, for I wish to acquaint you with some facts in the life of the woman who claims me as her husband."
"We are quite ready to accept Your Highness's simple denial," said Lord Radnor.
"I prefer you hear my story first," I answered.
Then I told them, in detail, what I had only outlined to the Princess, concerning Madeline Spencer. When I had finished, Lord Radnor shook his grey head gravely.
"His Highness of Lotzen is quite right," he said. "You never married that woman. Either she is a blackmailer or she is doing this in pure revenge. What's your notion, Courtney?"
"The marriage story is, of course, a pure lie," said Courtney, "but, there, I quit. I never try to guess a woman's purpose—and a pretty woman's least of all."
"God bless me, man!" Radnor exclaimed; "for a bachelor you are wondrous wise."
"Maybe that's why he is a bachelor," said Lady Helen.
"But even the wise get foolish at times," I said—and smiled at her. And she made a face at me behind her fan.
Then the Princess arose and, taking Lord Radnor's arm, she led the way down the garden. I came last with Lady Radnor. When we reached the exit Dehra insisted upon waiting until the Radnors and Courtney had gone. She was, she said, helping me do the honors. Then, when her own carriage was at the door, she turned to the Countess Giska.
"His Highness will drive with me," she said. "Major Moore, will you escort the Countess?"
"But, Dehra——" I protested.
She was in the brougham, now.
"You will not permit me to drive alone to the Palace," she said.
"But, Dehra——" I began again.
She reached over and took my hand.
Still I hesitated.
"Come, sweetheart," she said softly.
I could resist no longer. I sprang in; the door slammed, and we were alone together.
No, not alone, either. The Spencer woman was there with us—before us—all around us. "I am Armand Dalberg's wife" was pounding in my brain.
Then I felt a soft little hand slip into mine; a perfumed hair tress touched my cheek; and the sweetest voice, to me, on earth whispered in my ear.
"Don't I get my kiss now?"
I flung my arm about her and caught her close—then loosed her sharply and drew back.
"God help me, Dehra, I may not," I said.
She laughed softly, and again she found my hand—and I felt her hair brush my face—and her body rest against my shoulder.
"Why, Armand?" she asked. "Why may you not kiss your betrothed?"
"Because," said I, "because———"
"Yes, dear, go on," she whispered.
I drew my hand away from hers. "Did you not hear that woman claim me as her husband?" I said.
But she only pressed the closer. I was in the very corner of the carriage now; I could retreat no farther. And, maybe, I was glad. I think I was.
"But that's no reason," she insisted. "You are not her husband."
"You believe that, dear?" I cried.
She put her arms about my neck and kissed me, almost fiercely, on the lips—then, suddenly, drew back and, with both hands pressed against my breast, she viewed me at arm's length.
"Believe it?" she said; "believe it? I never believed anything else."
I took her hands and reverently touched them to my forehead—then, held them tight.
"After all these years, God would not send you to me just to mock my prayers," she added.
"But the certificate!" I objected.
"A lie or a forgery," she said scornfully.
I drew her head upon my shoulder. "Sweetheart," I whispered; "may I kiss you, now?"
She lifted her dear face and looked up into mine with glistening eyes, her lips half parted. My own eyes, too, were wet, I think.
"Yes, Armand—now and always," she answered.
And, so I held her, for a moment; then, bent and kissed her. And that kiss is on my lips this instant, and will be until they numb in death.