CHAPTER XIX. FOR OUR LOVE AND HER HONOR
RUPERT of Hentzau was dead! That was the thought which, among all ourperplexities, came back to me, carrying with it a wonderful relief.To those who have not learnt in fighting against him the height of hisaudacity and the reach of his designs, it may well seem incredible thathis death should breed comfort at a moment when the future was stillso dark and uncertain. Yet to me it was so great a thing that I couldhardly bring myself to the conviction that we had done with him. True,he was dead; but could he not strike a blow at us even from beyond thegulf?
Such were the half-superstitious thoughts that forced their way into mymind as I stood looking out on the crowd which obstinately encircled thefront of the palace. I was alone; Rudolf was with the queen, my wife wasresting, Bernenstein had sat down to a meal for which I could findno appetite. By an effort I freed myself from my fancies and tried toconcentrate my brain on the facts of our position. We were ringed roundwith difficulties. To solve them was beyond my power; but I knew wheremy wish and longing lay. I had no desire to find means by which RudolfRassendyll should escape unknown from Strelsau; the king, althoughdead, be again in death the king, and the queen be left desolate on hermournful and solitary throne. It might be that a brain more astute thanmine could bring all this to pass. My imagination would have none ofit, but dwelt lovingly on the reign of him who was now king in Strelsau,declaring that to give the kingdom such a ruler would be a splendidfraud, and prove a stroke so bold as to defy detection. Against itstood only the suspicions of Mother Holf--fear or money would close herlips--and the knowledge of Bauer; Bauer's mouth also could be shut, ay,and should be before we were many days older. My reverie led me far;I saw the future years unroll before me in the fair record of a greatking's sovereignty. It seemed to me that by the violence and bloodshedwe had passed through, fate, for once penitent, was but righting themistake made when Rudolf was not born a king.
For a long while I stood thus, musing and dreaming; I was roused by thesound of the door opening and closing; turning, I saw the queen. She wasalone, and came towards me with timid steps. She looked out for a momenton the square and the people, but drew back suddenly in apparent fearlest they should see her. Then she sat down and turned her face towardsmine. I read in her eyes something of the conflict of emotions whichpossessed her; she seemed at once to deprecate my disapproval and toask my sympathy; she prayed me to be gentle to her fault and kind to herhappiness; self-reproach shadowed her joy, but the golden gleam of itstrayed through. I looked eagerly at her; this would not have been herbearing had she come from a last farewell; for the radiance was there,however much dimmed by sorrow and by fearfulness.
"Fritz," she began softly, "I am wicked--so wicked. Won't God punish mefor my gladness?"
I fear I paid little heed to her trouble, though I can understand itwell enough now.
"Gladness?" I cried in a low voice. "Then you've persuaded him?"
She smiled at me for an instant.
"I mean, you've agreed?" I stammered.
Her eyes again sought mine, and she said in a whisper: "Some day, notnow. Oh, not now. Now would be too much. But some day, Fritz, if Godwill not deal too hardly with me, I--I shall be his, Fritz."
I was intent on my vision, not on hers. I wanted him king; she did notcare what he was, so that he was hers, so that he should not leave her.
"He'll take the throne," I cried triumphantly.
"No, no, no. Not the throne. He's going away."
"Going away!" I could not keep the dismay out of my voice.
"Yes, now. But not--not for ever. It will be long--oh, so long--but Ican bear it, if I know that at last!" She stopped, still looking up atme with eyes that implored pardon and sympathy.
"I don't understand," said I, bluntly, and, I fear, gruffly, also.
"You were right," she said: "I did persuade him. He wanted to go awayagain as he went before. Ought I to have let him? Yes, yes! But Icouldn't. Fritz, hadn't I done enough? You don't know what I've endured.And I must endure more still. For he will go now, and the time will bevery long. But, at last, we shall be together. There is pity in God; weshall be together at last."
"If he goes now, how can he come back?"
"He will not come back; I shall go to him. I shall give up the throneand go to him, some day, when I can be spared from here, when I've donemy--my work."
I was aghast at this shattering of my vision, yet I could not be hard toher. I said nothing, but took her hand and pressed it.
"You wanted him to be king?" she whispered.
"With all my heart, madam," said I.
"He wouldn't, Fritz. No, and I shouldn't dare to do that, either."
I fell back on the practical difficulties. "But how can he go?" I asked.
"I don't know. But he knows; he has a plan."
We fell again into silence; her eyes grew more calm, and seemed to lookforward in patient hope to the time when her happiness should come toher. I felt like a man suddenly robbed of the exaltation of wine andsunk to dull apathy. "I don't see how he can go," I said sullenly.
She did not answer me. A moment later the door again opened. Rudolf camein, followed by Bernenstein. Both wore riding boots and cloaks. I saw onBernenstein's face just such a look of disappointment as I knew must beon mine. Rudolf seemed calm and even happy. He walked straight up to thequeen.
"The horses will be ready in a few minutes," he said gently. Then,turning to me, he asked, "You know what we're going to do, Fritz?"
"Not I, sire," I answered, sulkily.
"Not I, sire!" he repeated, in a half-merry, half-sad mockery. Then hecame between Bernenstein and me and passed his arms through ours. "Youtwo villains!" he said. "You two unscrupulous villains! Here you are,as rough as bears, because I won't be a thief! Why have I killed youngRupert and left you rogues alive?"
I felt the friendly pressure of his hand on my arm. I could not answerhim. With every word from his lips and every moment of his presence mysorrow grew keener that he would not stay. Bernenstein looked across atme and shrugged his shoulders despairingly. Rudolf gave a little laugh.
"You won't forgive me for not being as great a rogue, won't you?" heasked.
Well, I found nothing to say, but I took my arm out of his and claspedhis hand. He gripped mine hard.
"That's old Fritz!" he said; and he caught hold of Bernenstein's hand,which the lieutenant yielded with some reluctance. "Now for theplan," said he. "Bernenstein and I set out at once for the lodge--yes,publicly, as publicly as we can. I shall ride right through the peoplethere, showing myself to as many as will look at me, and letting itbe known to everybody where I'm going. We shall get there quite earlyto-morrow, before it's light. There we shall find what you know. Weshall find Sapt, too, and he'll put the finishing touches to our planfor us. Hullo, what's that?"
There was a sudden fresh shouting from the large crowd that stilllingered outside the palace. I ran to the window, and saw a commotion inthe midst of them. I flung the sash up. Then I heard a well-known, loud,strident voice: "Make way, you rascals, make way."
I turned round again, full of excitement.
"It's Sapt himself!" I said. "He's riding like mad through the crowd,and your servant's just behind him."
"My God, what's happened? Why have they left the lodge?" criedBernenstein.
The queen looked up in startled alarm, and, rising to her feet, cameand passed her arm through Rudolf's. Thus we all stood, listening tothe people good-naturedly cheering Sapt, whom they had recognized, andbantering James, whom they took for a servant of the constable's.
The minutes seemed very long as we waited in utter perplexity, almost inconsternation. The same thought was in the mind of all of us, silentlyimparted by one to another in the glances we exchanged. What could havebrought them from their guard of the great secret, save its discovery?They would never have left their post while the fulfilment of theirtrust was possible. By some mishap, some unforeseen chance, the king'sbody must have been discovered. T
hen the king's death was known, and thenews of it might any moment astonish and bewilder the city.
At last the door was flung open, and a servant announced the Constableof Zenda. Sapt was covered with dust and mud, and James, who enteredclose on his heels, was in no better plight. Evidently they had riddenhard and furiously; indeed they were still panting. Sapt, with a mostperfunctory bow to the queen, came straight to where Rudolf stood.
"Is he dead?" he asked, without preface.
"Yes, Rupert is dead," answered Mr. Rassendyll: "I killed him."
"And the letter?"
"I burnt it."
"And Rischenheim?"
The queen struck in.
"The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim will say and do nothing against me," shesaid.
Sapt lifted his brows a little. "Well, and Bauer?" he asked.
"Bauer's at large," I answered.
"Hum! Well, it's only Bauer," said the constable, seeming tolerably wellpleased. Then his eyes fell on Rudolf and Bernenstein. He stretched outhis hand and pointed to their riding-boots. "Whither away so late atnight?" he asked.
"First together to the lodge, to find you, then I alone to thefrontier," said Mr. Rassendyll.
"One thing at a time. The frontier will wait. What does your Majestywant with me at the lodge?"
"I want so to contrive that I shall be no longer your Majesty," saidRudolf.
Sapt flung himself into a chair and took off his gloves.
"Come, tell me what has happened to-day in Strelsau," he said.
We gave a short and hurried account. He listened with few signs ofapproval or disapproval, but I thought I saw a gleam in his eyes when Idescribed how all the city had hailed Rudolf as its king and the queenreceived him as her husband before the eyes of all. Again the hope andvision, shattered by Rudolf's calm resolution, inspired me. Sapt saidlittle, but he had the air of a man with some news in reserve. He seemedto be comparing what we told him with something already known to himbut unknown to us. The little servant stood all the while in respectfulstillness by the door; but I could see by a glance at his alert facethat he followed the whole scene with keen attention.
At the end of the story, Rudolf turned to Sapt. "And your secret--is itsafe?" he asked.
"Ay, it's safe enough!"
"Nobody has seen what you had to hide?"
"No; and nobody knows that the king is dead," answered Sapt.
"Then what brings you here?"
"Why, the same thing that was about to bring you to the lodge: the needof a meeting between yourself and me, sire."
"But the lodge--is it left unguarded?"
"The lodge is safe enough," said Colonel Sapt.
Unquestionably there was a secret, a new secret, hidden behind the curtwords and brusque manner. I could restrain myself no longer, and sprangforward, saying: "What is it? Tell us, Constable!"
He looked at me, then glanced at Mr. Rassendyll.
"I should like to hear your plan first," he said to Rudolf. "How do youmean to account for your presence alive in the city to-day, when theking has lain dead in the shooting-box since last night?"
We drew close together as Rudolf began his answer. Sapt alone lay backin his chair. The queen also had resumed her seat; she seemed to paylittle heed to what we said. I think that she was still engrossed withthe struggle and tumult in her own soul. The sin of which she accusedherself, and the joy to which her whole being sprang in a greeting whichwould not be abashed, were at strife between themselves, but joinedhands to exclude from her mind any other thought.
"In an hour I must be gone from here," began Rudolf.
"If you wish that, it's easy," observed Colonel Sapt.
"Come, Sapt, be reasonable," smiled Mr. Rassendyll. "Early to-morrow,we--you and I--"
"Oh, I also?" asked the colonel.
"Yes; you, Bernenstein, and I will be at the lodge."
"That's not impossible, though I have had nearly enough riding."
Rudolf fixed his eyes firmly on Sapt's.
"You see," he said, "the king reaches his hunting-lodge early in themorning."
"I follow you, sire."
"And what happens there, Sapt? Does he shoot himself accidentally?"
"Well, that happens sometimes."
"Or does an assassin kill him?"
"Eh, but you've made the best assassin unavailable."
Even at this moment I could not help smiling at the old fellow's surlywit and Rudolf's amused tolerance of it.
"Or does his faithful attendant, Herbert, shoot him?"
"What, make poor Herbert a murderer!"
"Oh, no! By accident--and then, in remorse, kill himself."
"That's very pretty. But doctors have awkward views as to when a man canhave shot himself."
"My good Constable, doctors have palms as well as ideas. If you fill theone you supply the other."
"I think," said Sapt, "that both the plans are good. Suppose we choosethe latter, what then?"
"Why, then, by to-morrow at midday the news flashes throughRuritania--yes, and through Europe--that the king, miraculouslypreserved to-day--"
"Praise be to God!" interjected Colonel Sapt; and young Bernensteinlaughed.
"Has met a tragic end."
"It will occasion great grief," said Sapt.
"Meanwhile, I am safe over the frontier."
"Oh, you are quite safe?"
"Absolutely. And in the afternoon of to-morrow, you and Bernensteinwill set out for Strelsau, bringing with you the body of the king." AndRudolf, after a pause, whispered, "You must shave his face. And if thedoctors want to talk about how long he's been dead, why, they have, as Isay, palms."
Sapt sat silent for a while, apparently considering the scheme. It wasrisky enough in all conscience, but success had made Rudolf bold, andhe had learnt how slow suspicion is if a deception be bold enough. It isonly likely frauds that are detected.
"Well, what do you say?" asked Mr. Rassendyll. I observed that hesaid nothing to Sapt of what the queen and he had determined to doafterwards.
Sapt wrinkled his forehead. I saw him glance at James, and theslightest, briefest smile showed on James's face.
"It's dangerous, of course," pursued Rudolf. "But I believe that whenthey see the king's body--"
"That's the point," interrupted Sapt. "They can't see the king's body."
Rudolf looked at him with some surprise. Then speaking in a low voice,lest the queen should hear and be distressed, he went on: "You mustprepare it, you know. Bring it here in a shell; only a few officialsneed see the face."
Sapt rose to his feet and stood facing Mr. Rassendyll.
"The plan's a pretty one, but it breaks down at one point," said he in astrange voice, even harsher than his was wont to be. I was on fire withexcitement, for I would have staked my life now that he had some strangetidings for us. "There is no body," said he.
Even Mr. Rassendyll's composure gave way. He sprang forward, catchingSapt by the arm.
"No body? What do you mean?" he exclaimed.
Sapt cast another glance at James, and then began in an even, mechanicalvoice, as though he were reading a lesson he had learnt, or playing apart that habit made familiar:
"That poor fellow Herbert carelessly left a candle burning where the oiland the wood were kept," he said. "This afternoon, about six, James andI lay down for a nap after our meal. At about seven James came to myside and roused me. My room was full of smoke. The lodge was ablaze. Idarted out of bed: the fire had made too much headway; we could not hopeto quench it; we had but one thought!" He suddenly paused, and looked atJames.
"But one thought, to save our companion," said James gravely.
"But one thought, to save our companion. We rushed to the door of theroom where he was. I opened the door and tried to enter. It was certaindeath. James tried, but fell back. Again I rushed in. James pulled meback: it was but another death. We had to save ourselves. We gained theopen air. The lodge was a sheet of flame. We could do nothing but standwatching, till
the swiftly burning wood blackened to ashes and theflames died down. As we watched we knew that all in the cottage must bedead. What could we do? At last James started off in the hope of gettinghelp. He found a party of charcoal-burners, and they came with him.The flames were burnt down now; and we and they approached the charredruins. Everything was in ashes. But"--he lowered his voice--"we foundwhat seemed to be the body of Boris the hound; in another room was acharred corpse, whose hunting-horn, melted to a molten mass, told usthat it had been Herbert the forester. And there was anothercorpse, almost shapeless, utterly unrecognizable. We saw it; thecharcoal-burners saw it. Then more peasants came round, drawn by thesight of the flames. None could tell who it was; only I and James knew.And we mounted our horses and have ridden here to tell the king."
Sapt finished his lesson or his story. A sob burst from the queen, andshe hid her face in her hands. Bernenstein and I, amazed at this strangetale, scarcely understanding whether it were jest or earnest, stoodstaring stupidly at Sapt. Then I, overcome by the strange thing, turnedhalf-foolish by the bizarre mingling of comedy and impressiveness inSapt's rendering of it, plucked him by the sleeve, and asked, withsomething between a laugh and a gasp:
"Who had that other corpse been, Constable?"
He turned his small, keen eyes on me in persistent gravity andunflinching effrontery.
"A Mr. Rassendyll, a friend of the king's, who with his servant Jameswas awaiting his Majesty's return from Strelsau. His servant here isready to start for England, to tell Mr. Rassendyll's relatives thenews."
The queen had begun to listen before now; her eyes were fixed on Sapt,and she had stretched out one arm to him, as if imploring him to readher his riddle. But a few words had in truth declared his device plainlyenough in all its simplicity. Rudolf Rassendyll was dead, his bodyburnt to a cinder, and the king was alive, whole, and on his throne inStrelsau. Thus had Sapt caught from James, the servant, the infection ofhis madness, and had fulfilled in action the strange imagination whichthe little man had unfolded to him in order to pass their idle hours atthe lodge.
Suddenly Mr. Rassendyll spoke in clear, short tones.
"This is all a lie, Sapt," said he, and his lips curled in contemptuousamusement.
"It's no lie that the lodge is burnt, and the bodies in it, and thathalf a hundred of the peasants know it, and that no man could tell thebody for the king's. As for the rest, it is a lie. But I think the truthin it is enough to serve."
The two men stood facing one another with defiant eyes. Rudolf hadcaught the meaning of the great and audacious trick which Sapt and hiscompanion had played. It was impossible now to bring the king's body toStrelsau; it seemed no less impossible to declare that the man burnt inthe lodge was the king. Thus Sapt had forced Rudolf's hand; he had beeninspired by the same vision as we, and endowed with more unshrinkingboldness. But when I saw how Rudolf looked at him, I did not know butthat they would go from the queen's presence set on a deadly quarrel.Mr. Rassendyll, however, mastered his temper.
"You're all bent on having me a rascal," he said coldly. "Fritz andBernenstein here urge me; you, Sapt, try to force me. James, there, isin the plot, for all I know."
"I suggested it, sir," said James, not defiantly or with disrespect, butas if in simple dutiful obedience to his master's implied question.
"As I thought--all of you! Well, I won't be forced. I see now thatthere's no way out of this affair, save one. That one I'll follow."
We none of us spoke, but waited till he should be pleased to continue.
"Of the queen's letter I need say nothing and will say nothing,"he pursued. "But I will tell them that I'm not the king, but RudolfRassendyll, and that I played the king only in order to serve the queenand punish Rupert of Hentzau. That will serve, and it will cut this netof Sapt's from about my limbs."
He spoke firmly and coldly; so that when I looked at him I was amazedto see how his lips twitched and that his forehead was moist with sweat.Then I understood what a sudden, swift, and fearful struggle he hadsuffered, and how the great temptation had wrung and tortured him beforehe, victorious, had set the thing behind him. I went to him and claspedhis hand: this action of mine seemed to soften him.
"Sapt, Sapt," he said, "you almost made a rogue of me."
Sapt did not respond to his gentler mood. He had been pacing angrily upand down the room. Now he stopped abruptly before Rudolf, and pointedwith his finger at the queen.
"I make a rogue of you?" he exclaimed. "And what do you make of ourqueen, whom we all serve? What does this truth that you'll tell makeof her? Haven't I heard how she greeted you before all Strelsau asher husband and her love? Will they believe that she didn't know herhusband? Ay, you may show yourself, you may say they didn't know you.Will they believe she didn't? Was the king's ring on your finger? Whereis it? And how comes Mr. Rassendyll to be at Fritz von Tarlenheim's forhours with the queen, when the king is at his hunting lodge? A kinghas died already, and two men besides, to save a word against her. Andyou--you'll be the man to set every tongue in Strelsau talking, andevery finger pointing in suspicion at her?"
Rudolf made no answer. When Sapt had first uttered the queen's name, hehad drawn near and let his hand fall over the back of her chair. She puthers up to meet it, and so they remained. But I saw that Rudolf's facehad gone very pale.
"And we, your friends?" pursued Sapt. "For we've stood by you as we'vestood by the queen, by God we have--Fritz, and young Bernenstein here,and I. If this truth's told, who'll believe that we were loyal to theking, that we didn't know, that we weren't accomplices in the trickingof the king--maybe, in his murder? Ah, Rudolf Rassendyll, God preserveme from a conscience that won't let me be true to the woman I love, orto the friends who love me!"
I had never seen the old fellow so moved; he carried me with him, as hecarried Bernenstein. I know now that we were too ready to be convinced;rather that, borne along by our passionate desire, we needed noconvincing at all. His excited appeal seemed to us an argument. At leastthe danger to the queen, on which he dwelt, was real and true and great.
Then a sudden change came over him. He caught Rudolf's hand and spoke tohim again in a low, broken voice, an unwonted softness transforming hisharsh tones.
"Lad," he said, "don't say no. Here's the finest lady alive sick for herlover, and the finest country in the world sick for its true king, andthe best friends--ay, by Heaven, the best friends--man ever had, sick tocall you master. I know nothing about your conscience; but this I know:the king's dead, and the place is empty; and I don't see what AlmightyGod sent you here for unless it was to fill it. Come, lad--for our loveand her honor! While he was alive I'd have killed you sooner than letyou take it. He's dead. Now--for our love and her honor, lad!"
I do not know what thoughts passed in Mr. Rassendyll's mind. His facewas set and rigid. He made no sign when Sapt finished, but stood ashe was, motionless, for a long while. Then he slowly bent his head andlooked down into the queen's eyes. For a while she sat looking back intohis. Then, carried away by the wild hope of immediate joy, and by herlove for him and her pride in the place he was offered, she sprang upand threw herself at his feet, crying:
"Yes, yes! For my sake, Rudolf--for my sake!"
"Are you, too, against me, my queen?" he murmured caressing her ruddyhair.