Long Live the King!

  CHAPTER XXXI. LET METTLICH GUARD HIS TREASURE

  Troubled times now, with the Carnival only a day or two off, and theshop windows gay with banners; with the press under the house of theconcierge running day and night, and turning out vast quantities offlaming bulletins printed in red; with the Committee of Ten in almostconstant session, and Olga Loschek summoned before it, to be told of thepassage, and the thing she was to do; with the old King very closeto the open door, and Hedwig being fitted for her bridal robe and forsomber black at one fitting.

  Troubled times, indeed. The city was smouldering, and from some strangesource had come a new rumor. Nothing less than that the Royalists,headed by the Chancellor, despairing of crowning the boy Prince, would,on the King's death, make away with him, thus putting Hedwig on thethrone Hedwig, Queen of Karnia perhaps already by secret marriage.

  The city, which adored the boy, was seething. The rumor had originatedwith Olga Loschek, who had given it to the Committee as a useful weapon.Thus would she have her revenge on those of the Palace, and at the sametime secure her own safety. Revenge, indeed, for she knew the way ofsuch rumors, how they fly from house to house, street to street. How theinnocent, proclaiming their innocence, look even the more guilty.

  When she had placed the scheme before the Committee of Ten, had seen theeagerness with which they grasped it--"In this way," she had said, inher scornful, incisive tones, "the onus of the boy is not on you, buton them. Even those who have no sympathy with your movement will burnat such a rumor. The better the citizen, the more a lover of home andorder, the more outraged he will be. Every man in the city with a childof his own will rise against the Palace."

  "Madame," the leader had said, "you should be of the Committee."

  But she had ignored the speech contemptuously, and gone on to otherthings.

  Now everything was arranged. Black Humbert had put his niece to work ona Carnival dress for a small boy, and had stayed her curiosity by a hintthat it was for the American lad.

  "They are comfortable tenants," he had said. "Not lavish, perhaps, asrich Americans should be, but orderly, and pleasant. The boy has goodmanners. It would be well to please him."

  So the niece, sewing in the back room, watched Bobby in and out, withpleasant mysteries in her eyes, and sewing sang the song the cathedralchimed:

  "Draw me also, Mary mild, To adore Thee and thy Child! Mary mild, Star in desert drear and wild."

  So she sang, and sewed, and measured Bobby's height as he passed by thewainscoting in the passage, and cunningly cut a pattern.

  "So high," she reflected, humming, "is his shoulder. And so, to thispanel, should go the little trousers. 'Star in desert drear and wild.'"

  Now and then, in the evenings, when the Americans were away, and Bobbywas snug in bed, with Tucker on the tiny feather comfort at his feet,the Fraulein would come downstairs and sit in Black Humbert's room. Atsuch times the niece would be sent on an errand, and the two would talk.The niece, who, although she had no lover, was on the lookout for love,suspected a romance of the middle-aged, and smiled in the half-darknessof the street; smiled with a touch of malice, as one who has pierced thearmor of the fortress, and knows its weakness.

  But it was not of love that Humbert and the Fraulein talked.

  Herman Spier was busy in those days and making plans. Thus, day by day,he dined in the restaurant where the little Marie, now weary of herhusband, sat in idle intervals behind the cashier's desk, and watchedthe grass in the Place emerge from its winter hiding place. When sheturned her eyes to the room, frequently she encountered those of HermanSpier, pale yet burning, fixed on her. And at last, one day when herhusband lay lame with sciatica, she left the desk and paused by Herman'stable.

  "You come frequently now," she observed. "It is that you like us here,or that you have risen in the shop?"

  "I have left the shop," said Herman, staring at her. Flesh, in amoderate amount, suited her well. He liked plump women. They were, ifyou please, an armful. "And I come to see you."

  "Left the shop!" Marie exclaimed. "And Peter Niburg--he has left also? Inever see him."

  "No," said Herman non-committally.

  "He is ill, perhaps?"

  "He is dead," said Herman, devouring her with his eyes.

  "Dead!" She put a hand to her plump side.

  "Aye. Shot as a spy." He took another piece of the excellent pigeon pie.Marie, meantime, lost all her looks, grew pasty white.

  "Of the--the Terrorists?" she demanded, in a whisper.

  "Terrorists! No. Of Karnia. He was no patriot."

  So the little Marie went back to her desk, and to her staring out overthe Place in intervals of business. And what she thought of no one canknow. But that night, and thereafter, she was very tender to her spouse,and put cloths soaked in hot turpentine water on his aching thigh.

  On the surface things went on as usual at the Palace. Karl's visit hadbeen but for a day or two. He had met the Council in session, and hadhad, because of their growing alarm, rather his own way with them.

  But although he had pointed to the King's condition and theirs--as anargument for immediate marriage--he failed. The thing would be done,but properly and in good time. They had a signed agreement to fall backupon, and were in no hurry to pay his price. Karl left them in a badtemper, well concealed, and had the pleasure of being hissed through thestreets.

  But he comforted himself with the thought of Hedwig. He had taken her inhis arms before he left, and she had made no resistance. She had even,in view of all that was at stake, made a desperate effort to return hiskiss, and found herself trembling afterward.

  In two weeks he was to return to her, and he whispered that to her.

  On the day after the dinner-party Otto went to a hospital with MissBraithwaite. It was the custom of the Palace to send the flowersfrom its spectacular functions to the hospitals, and the Crown Princedelighted in these errands.

  So they went, escorted by the functionaries of the hospital, past themilitary wards, where soldiers in shabby uniforms sat on benches inthe spring sunshine, to the general wards beyond. The Crown Prince wasalmost hidden behind the armful he carried. Miss Braithwaite had all shecould hold. A convalescent patient, in slippers many sizes too large forhim, wheeled the remainder in a barrow, and almost upset the barrow inhis excitement.

  Through long corridors into wards fresh-scrubbed against his arrival,with white counterpanes exactly square, and patients forbidden to moveand disturb the geometrical exactness of the beds, went Prince FerdinandWilliam Otto. At each bed he stopped, selected a flower, and held itout. Some there were who reached out, and took it with a smile. Otherslay still, and saw neither boy nor blossom.

  "They sleep, Highness," the nurse would say.

  "But their eyes are open."

  "They are very weary, and resting."

  In such cases he placed the flower on the pillow, and went on.

  One such; however, lying with vacant eyes fixed on the ceiling,turned and glanced at the boy, and into his empty gaze crept a faintintelligence. It was not much. He seemed to question with his eyes. Thatwas all. As the little procession moved on, however, he raised himselfon his elbow.

  "Lie down!" said the man in the next bed sharply.

  "Who was that?"

  The ward, which might have been interested, was busy keeping its coversstraight and in following the progress of the party. For the man had notspoken before.

  "The Crown Prince."

  The sick man lay back and dosed his eyes. Soon he slept. His comrade inthe next bed beckoned to a Sister.

  "He has spoken," he said. "Either he recovers, or--he dies."

  But again Haeckel did not die. He lived to do his part in the comingcrisis, to prove that even the great hands of Black Humbert on histhroat were not so strong as his own young spirit; lived, indeed, toconfront the Terrorist as one risen from the dead. But that day he layand slept, by curious irony the flower from Karl's banquet in
a cup ofwater beside him.

  On the day before the Carnival, Hedwig had a visitor, none other thanthe Countess Loschek. Hedwig, all her color gone now, her high spiritcrushed, her heart torn into fragments and neatly distributed betweenNikky, who had most of it, the Crown Prince, and the old King. Hedwig,having given her permission to come, greeted her politely but withoutenthusiasm.

  "Highness!" said the Countess, surveying her. And then, "You poorchild!" using Karl's words, but without the same inflection, using,indeed, the words a good many were using to Hedwig in those days.

  "I am very tired," Hedwig explained. "All this fitting,and--everything."

  "I know, perhaps better than you think, Highness." Also something likeKarl's words. Hedwig reflected with bitterness that everybody knew, butnobody helped her. And, as if in answer to the thought, Olga Loschekcame out plainly.

  "Highness," she said, "may I speak to you frankly?"

  "Please do," Hedwig replied. "Everybody does, anyhow. Especially when itis something disagreeable."

  Olga Loschek watched her warily. She knew the family as only theoutsider could know it; knew that Hedwig, who would have disclaimed thefact, was like her mother in some things, notably in a disposition tobe mild until a certain moment, submissive, even acquiescent, and thensuddenly to become, as it were, a royalty and grow cold, haughty. Butif Hedwig was driven in those days, so was the Countess, desperate anddriven to desperate methods.

  "I am presuming, Highness, on your mother's kindness to me, and yourown, to speak frankly."

  "Well, go on," said Hedwig resignedly. But the next words brought her upin her chair.

  "Are you going to allow your life to be ruined?" was what the Countesssaid.

  Careful! Hedwig had thrown up her head and looked at her with hostileeyes. But the next moment she had forgotten she was a princess, and thegranddaughter to the King, and remembered only that she was a woman,and terror-stricken. She flung out her arms, and then buried her face inthem.

  "How can I help it?" she said.

  "How can you do it?" Olga Loschek countered. "After all, it is you whomust do this thing. No one else. It is you they are offering on thealtar of their ambition."

  "Ambition?"

  "Ambition. What else is it? Surely you do not believe these tales theytell--old wives' tales of plot and counterplot!"

  "But the Chancellor--"

  "Certainly the Chancellor!" mocked Olga Loschek. "Highness, for yearshe has had a dream. A great dream. It is not for you and me to say it isnot noble. But, to fulfill his dream to bring prosperity and greatnessto the country, and naturally, to him who plans it, there is a price topay. He would have you pay it."

  Hedwig raised her face and searched the other woman's eyes.

  "That is all, then?" she said. "All this other, this fright, this talkof treason and danger, that is not true?"

  "Not so true as he would have you believe," replied Olga Loscheksteadily. "There are malcontents everywhere, in every land. A few madmenwho dream dreams, like Mettlich himself, only not the same dream. It isall ambition, one dream or another."

  "But my grandfather--"

  "An old man, in the hands of his Ministers!"

  Hedwig rose and paced the floor, her fingers twisting nervously. "Butit is too late," she cried at last. "Everything is arranged. I cannotrefuse now. They would--I don't know what they would do to me!"

  "Do! To the granddaughter of the King. What can they do?"

  That aspect of things; to do her credit, had never occurred to Hedwig.She had seen herself, hopeless and alone, surrounded by the powerful,herself friendless. But, if there was no danger to save her family from?If her very birth, which had counted so far for so little, would bringher immunity and even safety?

  She paused in front of the Countess. "What can I do?" she askedpitifully.

  "That I dare not presume to say. I came because I felt--I can only saywhat, in your place, I should do."

  "I am afraid. You would not be afraid." Hedwig shivered. "What would youdo?"

  "If I knew, Highness, that some one, for whom I cared, himself careddeeply enough to make any sacrifice, I should demand happiness. I ratherthink I should lose the world, and gain something like happiness."

  "Demand!" Hedwig said hopelessly. "Yes, you would demand it. I cannotdemand things. I am always too frightened."

  The Countess rose. "I am afraid I have done an unwise thing," she said,"If your mother knew--" She shrugged her shoulders.

  "You have only been kind. I have so few who really care."

  The Countess curtsied, and made for the door. "I must go," she said,"before I go further, Highness. My apology is that I saw you unhappy,and that I resented it, because--"

  "Yes?"

  "Because I considered it unnecessary."

  She was a very wise woman. She left then, and let the next step comefrom Hedwig. It followed, as a matter of record, within the hour,at least four hours sooner than she had anticipated. She was in herboudoir, not reading, not even thinking, but sitting staring ahead, asMinna had seen her do repeatedly in the past weeks. She dared not think,for that matter.

  Although she was still in waiting, the Archduchess was making fewdemands on her. A very fever of preparation was on Annunciata. She spenthours over laces and lingerie, was having jewels reset for Hedwig, afterornate designs of her own contribution, was the center of a cycloneof boxes, tissue paper, material, furs, and fashion books, while maidsscurried about and dealers and dressmakers awaited her pleasure. Shewas, perhaps, happier than she had been for years, visited her father,absently and with pins stuck in her bosom, and looked dowdier and busierthan the lowliest of the seamstresses who, by her thrifty order, weremaking countless undergarments in a room on an upper floor.

  Hedwig's notification that she would visit her, therefore, found theCountess at leisure and alone. She followed the announcement almostimmediately, and if she had shown cowardice before, she showed none now.She disregarded the chair Olga Loschek offered, and came to the pointwith a directness that was like the King's.

  "I have come," she said simply, "to find out what to do."

  The Countess was as direct.

  "I cannot tell you what to do, Highness. I can only tell you what Iwould do."

  "Very well." Hedwig showed a touch of impatience. This was quibbling,and it annoyed her.

  "I should go away, now, with the person I cared about."

  "Where would you go?"

  "The world is wide, Highness."

  "Not wide enough to hide in, I am afraid."

  "For myself," said the Countess, "the problem would not be difficult.I should go to my place in the mountains. An old priest, who knows mewell, would perform the marriage. After that they might find me if theyliked. It would be too late."

  Emergency had given Hedwig insight. She saw that the woman beforeher, voicing dangerous doctrine, would protect herself by letting theinitiative come from her.

  "This priest--he might be difficult."

  "Not to a young couple, come to him, perhaps, in peasant costume. Theyare glad to marry, these fathers. There is much irregularity. I fancy,"she added, still with her carefully detached manner, "that a marriagecould be easily arranged."

  But, before long, she had dropped her pretense of aloofness, and wastaking the lead. Hedwig, weary with the struggle, and now tremblingwith nervousness, put herself in her hands, listening while she planned,agreed eagerly to everything. Something of grim amusement came intoOlga Loschek's face after a time. By doing this thing she would loseeverything. It would be impossible to conceal her connivance. No one,knowing Hedwig, would for a moment imagine the plan hers. Or Nikky's,either, for that matter.

  She, then, would lose everything, even Karl, who was already lost toher. But--and her face grew set and her eyes hard--she would let thoseplotters in their grisly catacombs do their own filthy work. Her handswould be clean of that. Hence her amusement that at this late day she,Olga Loschek, should be saving her own soul.

  So it was arra
nged, to the last detail. For it must be done at once.Hedwig, a trifle terrified, would have postponed it a day or so, but theCountess was insistent. Only she knew how the very hours counted, hadthem numbered, indeed, and watched them flying by with a sinking heart.

  She made a few plans herself, in those moments when Hedwig relapsedinto rapturous if somewhat frightened dreams. She had some money andher jewels. She would go to England, and there live quietly until thingssettled down. Then, perhaps, she would go some day to Karl, and withthis madness for Hedwig dead, of her marriage, perhaps--! She planned nofurther.

  If she gave a fleeting thought to the Palace, to the Crown Prince andhis impending fate, she dismissed it quickly. She had no affection forAnnunciata, and as to the boy, let them look out for him. Let Mettlichguard his treasure, or lose it to his peril. The passage under the gatewas not of her discovery or informing.