CHAPTER XI
PLAIN TALK
That it was chiefly the stunning unexpectedness of my stroke whichoverwhelmed Count Gustav was proved by the promptness with which herallied. Had I given him even a hint of my information or prepared himin any way for the thrust, I am sure he would have met it with outwardequanimity.
My probe had pierced the flesh, however, before he had had a moment toguard himself; and he had flinched and winced at the unexpected pain ofit. But he soon recovered self-possession.
"You have a dramatic instinct, Miss Gilmore, and considerable inventivepower. You should write for the stage. The essence of melodrama issurprise."
"I could not hope always to carry my audience away so completely,Count."
He laughed. "I am afraid I have not done you justice hitherto. I havenot taken you seriously enough. I think you are right in anotherthing--I had better not go yet. Our chat promises to be interesting.I should very much like a cigar. I wonder if Madame would object." Hespoke lightly and took out his cigar case.
"It would be very appropriate," I said. "There is one character in amelodrama who always smokes."
"You mean the villain?"
"The hero rarely has time--after the first act, at any rate. He isgenerally being arrested, or hunted, or imprisoned, or ruined in someway--sometimes drugged."
He had struck the match and at my last word paused to look at me. Hefavoured me with such a stare that the match burnt his fingers, and hedropped it with a muttered oath which I affected not to hear. It was avery trifling incident; but he was so unusually careful in such mattersas a rule that it offered another proof of his ill balance.
"I burnt my fingers and forgot my manners," he said lightly. "I begyour pardon, Miss Gilmore."
"You mean that you wish to have time to recover from the surprise.Pray wait as long as you please--and think. I have no wish to take anyfresh advantage over you--at present."
"Oh no, thank you," he cried, airily. "We will talk. Now, we mustknow where we stand, you and I?"
"At the moment we are in the salon of Madame d'Artelle, who was yourinstrument and tool."
"That 'was' sounds interesting. Is that your number one?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then, we'll take her as finished with. I don't care muchabout her. She has disappointed me. She is pretty; beautiful even:but no brains. She has let you guess too much. I'd rather deal withyou direct. What is number two? And how many numbers are there?"
He was so light in hand, took defeat so easily, was so apparently readyfor a complete change of front, and spoke with such an admirableassumption of raillery that I had difficulty in repressing aninclination to smile.
"You admit your defeat, then?"
He spread out his hands, waving one of them toward Gareth's drawing,and shrugged his shoulders.
"I am not a fool, Miss Gilmore."
I had expected anything except this instant surrender; and it caught meunready to state my terms. I could not go into the question of myfather's wrongs, because I did not know enough of the matter.
"The terms will be heavy," I said, slowly.
"One must pay a price for folly; and I shall at least have thecompensation of pleasing you."
"You will make Gareth your legal wife?"
He drew two whiffs of his cigar, took it from his lips, and looked atit thoughtfully.
"I would much rather marry you," he said with sudden smiling insolence.
"Do you agree?" I asked, curtly.
"That's number two, is it? Is the list much longer?"
"You will abandon the attempt to ruin your brother?"
"That's number three--number four?"
"There is no number four at present."
"What, nothing for yourself? Then you are a most remarkable younglady. Oh, but there must be."
"You are wasting time, Count Gustav, and Colonel Katona may growimpatient," I answered.
"Give me time. I am lost in amazement at such altruism--suchphilanthropy. You come to Pesth to push your fortunes; chance and yourclever little wits put a fortune in your grasp, and--you want nothingfor yourself." He shot at me a glance of sly mockery. "Perhaps Missvon Dreschler seeks something? The other Christabel, you know."
"I have stated my terms, Count Gustav."
"My answer is that I accept all of them--except the last two;" and thelaugh at his insolence was one of genuine enjoyment.
"Then there is no more to be said," I declared, rising.
"But indeed there is. Pray sit down again. We are going to talk thisover frankly. There is always an alternative course in suchaffairs--that was why I was anxious to know your motive. Will you sitdown?"
"No. I have said all I wish."
"Well, you gave me a surprise. I will give you one. You are MissChristabel von Dreschler; or at all events you were, until youinherited your uncle's money and took his name with it. He was John P.Gilmore, of Jefferson City, Missouri. Now, allow me;" and he placed achair for me with elaborate courtesy, while he regarded me with anexpression of great satisfaction and triumph.
I sat down and he resumed his seat.
"By the way," he said, as if casually, "we are likely to be engagedsome time, hadn't we better let Colonel Katona go?"
"I may still have to speak to him," I answered, drily.
"I don't think so, when he knows that you are Colonel von Dreschler'sdaughter--if I should have to tell him, that is--he will not be veryfriendly toward you. He will not, really. He is a very singular oldman." The art with which he conveyed this threat was inimitablyexcellent.
"The truth when he knows it, will tell with him, no matter from whom itcomes."
"Yes, but he may not have to know it. You may persuade me to marryGareth--in reality, you see. Besides, your object in bringing him herehas already been achieved; you made your coup, and it was successful.Why keep him? You can just as easily tell him all another time--if youhave to; while if I agree to do now what you wish, you will only haveto put him off and send him away. I really think he may go. I havevery little doubt we shall come to an understanding."
I thought a moment. "Yes, he may go. I will tell him so."
"I will go with you to him. He has a great regard for my family. Wewill tell him you are indisposed, or anything you please. I cansatisfy him more easily than you can, perhaps."
"I will go alone."
He shook his head and smiled. "Do you think that quite fair to meunder the peculiar circumstances? I wish to be quite sure that whatyou say is discreet. I must make a point of it that we go together,really I must."
But I recalled my impersonation of the giggling miss, and was notwilling that the Count should know of that.
"I will go alone to him, or he must remain," I said.
"I will go to him alone, then. You may be sure I shall not betraymyself."
I let him go. I saw no risk in so simple a step, and was glad to berelieved from the interview. I read his act to be a confirmation ofhis words--that we were likely to come to an understanding, and in thatcase there would be no need for Colonel Katona ever to know that Garethhad been betrayed.
I was a little uneasy, however, when some minutes passed and the Countdid not return, but he explained the delay by saying that the Colonelwas a peculiar man, and had plagued him with many questions difficultto answer.
"I told him you were not well, and would find means to see him as soonas necessary. And now, to resume our conversation, Miss--vonDreschler."
He spoke as airily as if it were a game of cards which had beeninterrupted.
"You take that for granted; but it scarcely helps matters."
"Permit me to indulge in the rudeness of a contradiction. I think itdoes. It gives me the clue to your motive--an essential matter to me.You are an American, young, wealthy, very pretty, and undoubtedlyclever. Why then do you masquerade as an adventuress? You may haveone of two motives--and there is a very improbable third. As Miss vonDresc
hler, my brother paid you great attentions in New York; the matterbeing broken off suddenly, in obedience to the protest of one of thefriends with him, who reminded Karl that what was going to happen heremade it impossible for him to marry a private individual."
He was very quick to see the surprise with which I heard this, andpaused to emphasize it.
"You are surprised. I always have thought that Karl's conduct wasindefensible. You ought to have been told the real reason; and it wasonly a flight of romantic fancy for him to prefer to pose as a meanfellow, willing to win your affections and then run away. That was hisdeliberate decision, however. He believed you would get over theaffair all the more easily if you thought him a scoundrel."
He glanced up again to judge the effect of his words as he paused topull at his cigar; but I was on guard and gave no sign at all. It was,however, an unpleasant experience to have the other side of my chieflife's story revealed by a man whom I knew to be false; and told with apurpose, in a tone of half sardonic raillery, and as a carefullycalculated bid for my silence about himself. Heart dissection is atrying process under such conditions.
"You will see from this that Karl was--excuse me if I put it plainly;it is all necessary--was intensely devoted to you. He returned homeprofoundly unhappy and very love-sick--his is a nature which takes suchthings seriously--and to this hour he has never recovered. To forgetyou and the way he had treated you, he plunged into wild excesses whichin a couple of years gravely impaired his health; heavy drinking wasfollowed by the present passion for opium. In a word, you have seenfor yourself what love has done for my brother."
"You have helped him downwards," I put in.
"He needed no help from me, but----" he waved his cigar expressivelyand jerked his shoulders. "And that brings us to chapter the second.For our purposes here, a dipsomaniac with a love craze and the opiumhabit is no use. You are Colonel von Dreschler's daughter, and mayknow something of the Patriotic Hungarian cause----" he paused to giveme a chance to speak.
"The movement in favour of independence, you mean?"
"I thought you would know it;" and he nodded as if it were of the mosttrifling consequence. "Well, then, you will know that Karl becameimpossible. Yet he is the elder son and my father's heir; and some ofus Hungarians are almost fanatics on the subject of succession.Everything was in danger; and as he has always refused to be set asidein my favour, there was nothing to do except to make him legallyimpossible. Another surprise for you now"--he spoke as indulgently asif he had been throwing me a candy. "The marriage with you becamedesirable; so Fate turns her wheel, you see; and I sent to New York tosearch for you, and we took infinite trouble in the vain endeavour totrace you. It was very unfortunate;" and he spread out his hands again.
I made no comment, but just kept my eyes on him, waiting for him tocontinue.
"Pardon me if I am personal again. You would have suited our purposeadmirably. I suspected you were the daughter of Colonel von Dreschler;and as your father's reputation was--was what it was and is--Karl'smarriage with you would have been absolutely fatal to his chances here."
"My father's reputation was the result of vile treachery," I criedindignantly. And I saw my blunder instantly in the start ofsatisfaction he gave, but instantly repressed. He smoked a couple ofmoments in silence.
"We will deal with that presently--but I thank you for that admission,although I am surprised you did not see the trap I laid to obtain it.Your natural indignation, no doubt. Well, as we could not find you, wehad to obtain an understudy--Madame d'Artelle." His tone wascontemptuous here. "And I think, now, you understand chapter two. Youmust admit I have been frank; and my frankness is a tribute to yourperspicacity."
"You have no comments," he said, still lightly and airily, when I didnot speak. "Very well, then, we'll go to chapter three. That concernsthe future--and your part in it. What do you mean to do, or, in otherwords, why did you come here? You are an interesting problem. You mayhave come to try and clear your father's name; or to punish in some waythe man who treated you so badly: clever and pretty women have donethat before, you know. Or--and this I referred to as the reallyimprobable motive--you may still wish to marry my brother. Butwhatever your motive and object, I pledge you my honour--the honour ofthe son of the Duke Ladislas and future King of Hungary--that I willhelp you to the utmost of my power. But you must also help me; and foryour first object you must be content to wait a year or two, until myfather's death."
"And Gareth?" I asked, after a pause.
A frown darkened his face and his eyes clouded. He rose and took acouple of turns across the room.
"Would to God I could undo that business!" he cried, either with deepfeeling or an excellent simulation of it. "You can't understand whatthis is to me! I am not a man capable of deep love, but I care forGareth beyond all women. It was a midsummer madness; and if I couldrepair the injury to her, I would. But the prospect of the throne isbetween us--and shall I give that up and wreck the whole of this greatnational movement for her? I would do anything else on God's earth forher--but that I cannot. It is impossible."
"And her father?"
"I know what you mean. He would plunge a knife in my heart or send abullet crashing into my brain, if he knew. He is desperate enough foranything. But he must not know. You must never tell him."
"You have the hardihood to do the wrong but lack the courage to facethe consequences," I exclaimed, bitterly.
"I was not thinking of that. I am not afraid of mere death, I hope,"he cried contemptuously. "I am thinking of the millions of Czechs,men, women and children, whose hopes of liberty are centred in my life.Beside that, all else is as nothing."
"It is a pity you did not think of this before."
"A man is a man and will act as a man at times. I have done a wrong Icannot undo; and it only remains to limit its mischief."
"A convenient code."
"Where is Gareth?" he broke off.
"Not where you intended those miscreants of yours to place her."
"Oh, so that was you also, was it?" he said, understanding. "You aremaking yourself very dangerous. Do you persist in threatening me?"
"What if I do?"
He paused as if to give emphasis to his reply.
"Those who oppose a national movement, Miss von Dreschler, must not besurprised if they are crushed under its wheels. As the daughter ofyour father, your mere presence here might be a danger to you."
"You threaten me?"
"I warn you--and that is the same thing. But a way is open to you.Marry Karl and take him away."
"You are a coward!" I cried, the burning red of anger flushing my faceas I remembered his former taunt that such a marriage would degrade hisbrother sufficiently for his purpose.
"Cold facts not hot words will alone serve here," he replied. "What doyou mean to do?"
"You can let your brother marry Madame d'Artelle. He is nothing to me."
He bent a sharp, piercing look upon me. "You mean that?"
"If I had influence with him it would be used to thwart your schemes.Keep him away from me, therefore, lest I tell him who I am and pit thatinfluence against yours."
He paused and his brows knitted in thought. "What you mean is that youare willing to use Madame d'Artelle to revenge your own wrongs uponhim. Then the third motive, the improbable one for your presence here,is the real one."
"If he will marry her, let him," I cried indignantly.
"You mean they are to carry out to-morrow's plan?"
"Yes."
"You amaze me. But then one never can understand a woman. And as forthe rest?"
"I must think. It is a tangle. I shall probably tell Colonel Katona."
"It will be his death warrant. A hint that my life is in peril fromhim and a hundred knives will be out of their sheaths in my defence.And those who would defend me against him would be ugly enemies ofColonel von Dreschler's daughter. You do not understand us Magyars.You are raising a storm whos
e violence may overwhelm you."
"I will say no more now. But you shall do Gareth justice."
"Do you set that before the clearing of your father's name? That isthe problem for you, and it is so searching that I can be sure you willnot act in a hurry. But in any case, I do not fear you, Miss vonDreschler, nor anything you can do. I shall see you to-morrow, and bythen you will have decided whether my brother is to marry Madamed'Artelle."
"I have decided. That is what I wish," I answered, firmly.
In his perplexity he stared hard at me and then bowed. As he wasleaving the room he turned.
"I don't understand you; but I shall be sorry if you make yourself myenemy and drive me to any extremes. I respect you; and repeat, I shallbe sorry."
I made no answer; leaving him to think I had spoken my last word as toKarl.
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