Sophy of Kravonia: A Novel

  XI

  M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE

  Often there are clever brains about us of whose workings we carenothing, save so far as they serve to the defter moving of our dishes orthe more scientific brushing and folding of our clothes. Humorists andphilosophers have described or conjectured or caricatured the world ofthose who wait on us, inviting us to consider how we may appear to theinward gaze of the eyes which are so obediently cast down before ours orso dutifully alert to anticipate our orders. As a rule, we decline theinvitation; the task seems at once difficult and unnecessary. Enough toremember that the owners of the eyes have ears and mouths also! A smallleak, left unstanched, will empty the largest cask at last; it is wellto keep that in mind both in private concerns and in affairs of publicmagnitude.

  The King's body-servant, Emile Lepage, had been set a-thinking. This wasthe result of the various and profuse scoldings which he had undergonefor calling young Count Alexis "Prince." The King's brief, sharp wordsat the conference had been elaborated into a reproof both longer andsterner than his Majesty was wont to trouble himself to administer; hehad been very strong on the utter folly of putting such ideas into theboy's head. Lepage was pretty clear that the idea had come from theboy's head into his, but he said nothing more of that. The boy himselfscolded Lepage--first for having been overheard, secondly (and, asLepage guessed, after being scolded himself very roundly) for using theoffending title at all. Meekly Lepage bore this cross also--indeed, withsome amusement, and a certain touch of pity for young Alexis, who wasnot a prince and obviously could not make out why: in the books a king'ssons were always princes, even though there were (as in those gloriousdays there often were) fifty or threescore of them.

  Then Countess Ellenburg scolded him: the King's "It's absurd!" wasrankling sorely in her mind. Her scolding was in her heaviestmanner--very religious: she called Heaven to witness that never, by wordor deed, had she done anything to give her boy such a notion. The daysare gone by when Heaven makes overt present answer; nothing happened!She roundly charged Lepage with fostering the idea for his own purposes;he wanted to set the Prince of Slavna against his little brother, shesupposed, and to curry favor with the rising sun at the poor child'scost.

  She was very effective, but she angered Lepage almost beyond endurance.By disposition he was thoroughly good-natured, if sardonic andimpassive; he could not suffer the accusation of injuring the pretty boyfor his own ends; it was both odious and absurd. He snapped back smartlyat her: "I hope nobody will do more to put wrong ideas in his head thanI have done, Madame la Comtesse." In a fury she drove him from the room.But she had started ever so slightly. Lepage's alert brain jumped at thesignal.

  Finally, Stenovics himself had a lecture for poor, much-lectured Lepage.It was one of the miscalculations to which an over-cautious cunning isprone. Stenovics was gentle and considerate, but he was veryurgent--urgent, above all, that nothing should be said about theepisode, neither about it, nor about the other reprimands. Silence,silence, silence was his burden. Lepage thought more and more. It isbetter to put up with gossip than to give the idea that the least gossipwould be a serious offence. People gossip without thinking, it's easycome and gone, easy speaking and easy forgetting; but stringentinjunctions not to talk are apt to make men think. References to therising sun, also, may breed reflection in the satellites of a settingorb. Neither Countess Ellenburg nor General Stenovics had been as welladvised as usual in this essentially trumpery matter.

  In short, nervousness had been betrayed. Whence came it? What did itmean? If it meant anything, could Lepage turn that thing to account? TheKing's favorite attendant was no favorite with Countess Ellenburg. ForLepage, too, the time might be very short! He would not injure the boy,as the angry mother had believed, or at least suggested; but, withoutquestion of that, there was no harm in a man's looking out for himself;or if there were, Lepage was clear in thinking that the Countess and theGeneral were not fit preachers of such a highly exacting gospel.

  Lepage concluded that he had something to sell. His wares were asuspicion and a fact. Selling the suspicion wronged nobody--he wouldgive no warranty with it--_Caveat emptor_. Selling the fact wasdisobedience to the King his master. "Disobedience, yes; injury, no,"said Lepage with a bit of casuistry. Besides, the King, too, had scoldedhim.

  Moreover, the Prince of Slavna had always treated Monsieur Emile Lepagewith distinguished consideration. The Bourbon blood, no doubt, stretchedout hands to _la belle France_ in Monsieur Lepage's person.

  Something to sell! Who was his buyer? Whose interest could be won by hissuspicion, whose friendship bought with his fact? The ultimate buyer wasplain enough. But Lepage could not go to Praslok, and he did not approveof correspondence, especially with Colonel Stafnitz in practical controlof the Household. He sought a go-between--and a personal interview. Atleast he could take a walk; the servants were not prisoners. Evenconspirators must stop somewhere--on pain of doing their own cooking andthe rest! At a quarter past eight in the evening, having given the Kinghis dinner and made him comfortable for the next two hours, Lepagesallied forth and took the road to Slavna. He was very carefullydressed, wore a flower in his buttonhole, and had dropped a discreethint about a lady, in conversation with his peers. If ladies oftendemand excuses, they may furnish them too; present seriousness invokedaid from bygone frivolity.

  At ten o'clock he returned, still most spruce and orderly, and with awell satisfied air about him. He had found a purchaser for his suspicionand his fact. His pocket was the better lined, and he had receivedflattering expressions of gratitude and assurances of favor. He feltthat he had raised a buttress against future assaults of Fortune. Heentered the King's dressing-room in his usual noiseless and unobtrusivemanner. He was not aware that General Stenovics had quitted it just aquarter of an hour before, bearing in his hand a document which he hadsubmitted for his Majesty's signature. The King had signed it andendorsed the cover "_Urgent_."

  "Ah, Lepage, where have you been?" asked the King.

  "Just to get a little air and drink a glass at the Golden Lion."

  "You look gayer than that!" smiled the King. Evidently his anger hadpassed; perhaps he wished to show as much to an old servant whom heliked and valued.

  Conscience-stricken--or so appearing--Lepage tore the flower from hiscoat. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon. I ought to have removed it beforeentering your Majesty's presence. But I was told you wished to retire atonce, sir, so I hurried here immediately."

  The King gave a weary yawn. "Yes, I'll go to bed at once, Lepage; andlet me sleep as long as I can. This fag-end of life isn't very amusing."He passed his hand wearily across his brow. "My head aches. Isn't theroom very close, Lepage? Open the window."

  "It has begun to rain, sir."

  "Never mind, let's have the rain, too. At least, it's fresh."

  Lepage opened a window which looked over the Krath. The King rose:Lepage hastened to offer his arm, which his Majesty accepted. They wenttogether to the window. A sudden storm had gathered; rain was peltingdown in big drops.

  "It looks like being a rough night," remarked the King.

  "I'm afraid it does, sir," Lepage agreed.

  "We're lucky to be going to our beds."

  "Very, sir," answered Lepage, wondering whose opposite fate his Majestywas pitying.

  "I shouldn't care, even if I were a young man and a sound one, to rideto Praslok to-night."

  "To Praslok, sir?" There was surprise in Lepage's voice. He could nothelp it. Luckily it sounded quite natural to the King. It was certainlynot a night to ride five and twenty miles, and into the hills, unlessyour business was very urgent.

  "Yes, to Praslok. I've had my breath of air--you can shut the window,Lepage."

  The King returned to the fireplace and stood warming himself. Lepageclosed the window, drew the curtains, and came to the middle of theroom, where he stood in respectful readiness--and, underneath that, avery lively curiosity.

  "Yes," said the King slowly, "Captain Markart goes to Praslo
kto-night--with a despatch for his Royal Highness, you know. Business,Lepage, urgent business! Everything must yield to that." The Kingenunciated this virtuous maxim as though it had been the rule of hislife. "No time to lose, Lepage, so the Captain goes to-night. But I'mafraid he'll have a rough ride--very rough."

  "I'm afraid so, sir," said Lepage, and added, strictly in his thoughts:"And so will Monsieur Zerkovitch!"

  Captain Markart was entirely of his Majesty's opinion as he set out onhis journey to Praslok. His ride would be rough, dark, and solitary--thelast by Stenovics's order. Markart was not afraid, he was well armed;but he expected to be very bored, and knew that he would be very wet, bythe time he reached the Castle. He breathed a fervent curse on thenecessities of State, of which the Minister had informed him, as hebuttoned up his heavy cavalry overcoat, and rode across the bridge on tothe main road on the right bank, an hour before midnight.

  Going was very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and hishorse made a blurred, laboring shape on the murky face of night. But hisorders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a sharp trot and soon coveredhis first stage, the five miles to the old wooden bridge, where the roadleaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikesnortheast, towards the hills.

  At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was notto be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across thebridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse'shoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted amoment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped--but the echowent on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way!He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard thetimbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again andwent forward briskly. He had no reason to associate hisfellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that whenGeneral Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learnthat his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road.

  But the stranger, too, was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could notshake him off. On the contrary, he drew nearer. The road was still broadand good. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a canter. "Atany rate, it makes for good time," thought Markart, smiling uneasily. Infact, the two found themselves drawn into a sort of race. On they went,covering the miles at a quick, sustained trot, exhilarating to the men,but rather a strain on their horses. Both were well mounted. Markartwondered who the stranger with such a good horse was. He turned hishead, but could see only the same sort of blur as he himself made; partof the blur, however, seemed of a lighter color than his dark overcoatand bay horse produced.

  Markart's horse pecked; his rider awoke to the fact that he was poundinghis mount without doing much good to himself. He would see whether theunknown meant to pass him or was content to keep on equal terms. Hispace fell to a gentle trot--so did the stranger's. Markart walked hishorse for half a mile--so did the stranger. Thenceforward they wenteasily, each keeping his position, till Markart came to where the roadforked--on the right to Dobrava, on the left to Praslok and Volseni.Markart drew rein and waited; he might just as well see where thestranger was going.

  The stranger came up--and Markart started violently. The lighter tingeof the blur was explained. The stranger rode a white horse. It flashedon Markart that the Prince rode a white charger, and that the animal hadbeen in Slavna the day before--he had seen it being exercised. He peeredinto the darkness, trying to see the man's face; the effort was of noavail. The stranger came to a stand beside him, and for a few momentsneither moved. Then the stranger turned his horse's head to the left: hewas for Praslok or Volseni, then! Markart followed his example. He knewwhy he did not speak to the stranger, but he was wondering why on earththe stranger did not speak to him. He went on wondering till it occurredto him that, perhaps, the stranger was in exactly the same state ofmind.

  There was no question of cantering, or even of trotting, now. The roadrose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stoneslay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses labored. Atthe same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the strangerdismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there beforethem, in deeper black, rose the gate-tower of the Castle of Praslok. Thestranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They werealmost opposite the Castle.

  A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Twomore took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubledhis responsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with alantern; a light flashed in the doorway of the Castle. Both Markart andthe stranger came to a stand-still. The man with the lantern raised ithigh in the air, to see the faces of the travellers.

  They saw each other's faces, too. The first result was to send them intoa fit of laughter--a relief from tension, a recognition of the absurdityinto which their diplomatic caution had led them.

  "By the powers, Captain Markart!"

  "Monsieur Zerkovitch, by Heaven!"

  They laughed again.

  "Ah, and we might have had a pleasant ride together!"

  "I should have rejoiced in the solace of your conversation!"

  But neither asked the other why he had behaved in such a ridiculousmanner.

  "And our destination is the same?" asked Zerkovitch. "You stop here atthe Castle?"

  "Yes, yes, Monsieur Zerkovitch. And you?"

  "Yes, Captain, yes; my journey ends at the Castle."

  The men led away their horses, which sorely needed tending, and theymounted the wooden causeway side by side, both feeling foolish, yet surethey had done right. In the doorway stood Peter Vassip with his lantern.

  "Your business, gentlemen?" he said. It was between two and three in themorning.

  They looked at each other; Zerkovitch was quicker, and with a courteousgesture invited his companion to take precedence.

  "Private and urgent--with his Royal Highness."

  "So is mine, Peter," said Zerkovitch.

  Markart's humor was touched again; he began to laugh. Zerkovitchlaughed, too, but there was a touch of excitement and nervousness in hismirth.

  "His Royal Highness went to bed an hour ago," said Peter Vassip.

  "I'm afraid you must rouse him. My business is immediate," said Markart."And I suppose yours is too, Monsieur Zerkovitch?" he added jokingly.

  "That it is," said Zerkovitch.

  "I'll rouse the Prince. Will you follow me, gentlemen?"

  Peter closed and barred the gate, and they followed him through thecourt-yard. A couple of sentries were pacing it; for the rest, all wasstill. Peter led them into a small room, where a fire was burning, andleft them together. Side by side they stood close to the fire; eachflung away his coat and tried to dry his boots and breeches at thecomforting blaze.

  "We must keep this story a secret, or we shall be laughed at by allSlavna, Monsieur Zerkovitch."

  Zerkovitch gave him a sharp glance. "I should think you would reportyour discreet conduct to your superiors, Captain. Orders are orders,secrecy is secrecy, even though it turns out that there was no need forit."

  Markart was about to reply with a joke when the Prince entered. Hegreeted both cordially, showing, of course, in Markart's presence, nosurprise at Zerkovitch's arrival.

  "There will be rooms and food and wine ready for you, gentlemen, in afew minutes. Captain Markart, you must rest here for to-night, for yourhorse's sake as well as your own. I suppose your business will wait tillthe morning?"

  "My orders were to lose not a moment in communicating it to you, sir."

  "Very well. You're from his Majesty?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "The King comes first--and I dare say your affair will wait,Zerkovitch?"

  Zerkovitch protested with an eagerness by no means discreet in thepresence of a third party--an aide-de-camp to Stenovics!--"No, sir,no--it can't wait an--"

  The Prince interrupted. "Nonsense, man, nonsense! Now go to your room.I'll come in and b
id you 'Good-night.'" He pushed his over-zealousfriend from the room, calling to Peter Vassip to guide him to theapartment he was to occupy. Then he came back to Markart. "Now,Captain!"

  Markart took out his letter and presented it with a salute. "Sit downwhile I read it," said the Prince, seating himself at the table.

  The Prince read his letter, and sat playing with it in his fingers forhalf a minute or so. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Heavens, Inever told Peter to light fires! I hope he has. You're wet--andZerkovitch is terribly liable to take cold." He jumped up. "Excuse me;we have no bells in this old place, you know." He ran out of the room,closing the door behind him.

  Markart sprang to the door. He did not dare to open it, but he listenedto the Prince's footsteps. They sounded to the left--one, two, three,four, five, six paces. They stopped--a door opened and shut. Markartmade a mental note and went back to the fire, smiling. He thought thatidea of his really would please General Stenovics.

  In three minutes the Prince returned. "I did Peterinjustice--Zerkovitch's fire is all right," he said. "And there's a goodone in your room, too, he tells me. And now, Captain Markart, to ourbusiness. You know the contents of the letter you carried?"

  "Yes, sir. They were communicated to me, in view of their urgency, andin case of accident to the letter."

  "As a matter of form, repeat the gist to me."

  "General Stenovics has to inform your Royal Highness on the King'sbehalf that his Majesty sees no need of a personal interview, as hismind is irrevocably fixed, and he orders your Royal Highness to set outfor Germany within three days from the receipt of this letter. Nopretext is to delay your Royal Highness's departure."

  "Perfectly correct, Captain. To-morrow I shall give you an answeraddressed directly to the King. But I wish now to give you a message toGeneral Stenovics. I shall ask the King for an audience. Unless heappoints a time within two days, I shall conclude that he has not hadthe letter, or--pray mark this--has not enjoyed an opportunity ofconsidering it independently. General Stenovics must consider what aresponsibility he undertakes if he advises the King to refuse to see hisson. I shall await his Majesty's answer here. That is the message. Youunderstand?"

  "Perfectly, sir."

  "Just repeat it. The terms are important."

  Markart obeyed. The Prince nodded his head. "You shall have the letterfor the King early in the morning. Now for bed! I'll show you to yourroom."

  They went out and turned to the left. Markart counted their paces. Atsix paces they came to a door--and passed it. Four farther on, thePrince ushered him into the room where he was to sleep. It was evidentthat the Prince had made personal inspection of the state of MonsieurZerkovitch's fire!

  "Good-night, Captain. By-the-way, the King continues well?"

  "Dr. Natcheff says, sir, that he doesn't think his Majesty was everbetter in his life."

  The Prince looked at him for just a moment with a reflective smile. "Ah,and a trustworthy man, Natcheff! Good-night!"

  Markart did not see much reason to think that the question, the look,the smile, and the comment had any significance. But there would be noharm in submitting the point to General Stenovics. Pondering over this,he forgot to count the Prince's paces this time. If he had counted, thesum would have been just four. Monsieur Zerkovitch's fire needed anotherroyal inspection--it needed it almost till the break of day.

  "The King's life hangs by a hair, and your Crown by a thread." That wasthe warning which Lepage had given and Zerkovitch had carried throughthe night.