CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH MAURICE RECURS TO OFFENBACH
Midnight; the music had ceased, and the yellow and scarlet lanterns hadbeen plucked from the autumnal hangings. The laughing, smiling, dancingwomen, like so many Cinderellas, had disappeared, and with them thesparkle of jewels; and the gallant officers had ridden away to thejingle of bit and spur. Throughout the courtly revel all faces hadrevealed, besides the happiness and lightness of spirit, a suppressedeagerness for something yet to come, an event surpassing any they hadyet known.
Promptly at midnight Madame herself had dropped the curtains on the gayscene because she had urgent need of all her military household at dawn,when a picture, far different from that which had just been painted, wasto be limned on the broad canvas of her dreams. Darkness and quiet hadfallen on the castle, and the gray moon film lay on terrace and turretand tile.
In the guardroom, Maurice, his hands and feet still in pressing cords,dozed in his chair. He had ceased to combat drowsiness. He was worn outwith his long ride, together with the chase of the night before; andsince a trooper had relieved his mouth of the scarf so that he couldbreathe, he cared not what the future held, if only he might sleep.It took him a long time to arrive at the angle of comfort; thisaccomplished, he drifted into smooth waters. The troopers whoconstituted his guard played cards at a long table, in the center ofwhich were stuck half a dozen bayonets, which served as candlesticks.They laughed loudly, thumped the board, and sometimes sang. No onebothered himself about the prisoner, who might have slept till the crackof doom, as far as they were concerned.
Shortly before the new hour struck, the door opened and shut. A troopershook the sleeper by the sleeve. Maurice awoke with a start and gazedabout, blinking his eyes. Before him he discovered Madame the duchess,Fitzgerald and Mollendorf, behind whom stood the Voiture-verse of acountess. The languor forsook him and he pulled himself together andsat as upright as his bonds would permit him. Something interesting wasabout to take place.
Madame made a gesture which the troopers comprehended, and theydeparted. Fitzgerald, with gloomy eyes, folded his arms across hisbreast, and with one hand curled and uncurled the drooping ends of hismustache; the Colonel frowned and rubbed the gray bristles on his upperlip; the countess twisted and untwisted her handkerchief; Madame aloneevinced no agitation, unless the perpendicular line above her nose couldhave been a sign of such. This lengthened and deepened as her glance metthe prisoner's.
He eyed them all with an indifference which was tinctured with contemptand amusement.
"Well, Monsieur Carewe," said Madame, coldly, "what have you to say?"
"A number of things, Madame," he answered, in a tone which bordered theinsolent; "only they would not be quite proper for you to hear."
The Colonel's hand slid from his lip over his mouth; he shuffled hisfeet and stared at the bayonets and the grease spots on the table.
"Carewe," said Fitzgerald, endeavoring to speak calmly, "you have brokenyour word to me as a gentleman and you have lied to me."
The reply was an expressive monosyllable, "O!"
"Do you deny it?" demanded the Englishman.
"Deny what?" asked Maurice.
"The archbishop," said Madame, "assumed the aggressive last night. To beaggressive one must possess strength. Monsieur, how much did he pay forthose consols? Come, tell me; was he liberal? It is evident that you arenot a man of business. I should have been willing to pay as much asa hundred thousand crowns. Come; acknowledge that you have made a badstroke." She bent her head to one side, and a derisive smile lifted thecorners of her lips.
A dull red flooded the prisoner's cheeks. "I do not understand you."
"You lie!" Fitzgerald stepped closer and his hands closed menacingly.
"Thank you," said Maurice, "thank you. But why not complete themelodrama by striking, since you have doubled your fists?"
Fitzgerald glared at him.
"Monsieur," interposed the countess, "do not forget that you are agentleman; Monsieur Carewe's hands are tied."
"Unfortunately," observed Maurice.
Madame looked curiously at the countess, while Fitzgerald drew back tothe table and rested on it.
"I can not comprehend how you dared return," Madame resumed. "One whowatches over my affairs has informed me of your dishonorable act."
"What do you call a dishonorable act?" Maurice inquired quietly.
"One who breaks his sacred promise!" quickly.
The prisoner laughed maliciously. Madame had answered the question as hehoped she would. "Chickens come home to roost. What do you say to that,my lord?" to the Englishman.
This time it was not the prisoner's cheeks which reddened. Even Madamewas forced to look away, for if this reply touched the Englishman itcertainly touched her as deeply. Incidentally, she was asking herselfwhy she had permitted the Englishman to possess her lips, hers, which noman save her father had ever possessed before. A kiss, that was all ithad been, yet the memory of it was persistent, annoying, embarrassing.In the spirit of play--a spirit whose origin mystified her--she hadgiven the man something which she never could regain, a particle of herpride.
Besides, this was not all; she had in that moment given up her right tolaugh at him when the time came; now she would not be able to laugh. Sheregretted the folly, and bit her lip at the thought of it. Consequencesshe had laughed at; now their possibilities disturbed her. She hadbeen guilty of an indiscretion. The fact that the Englishman had ruinedhimself at her beck did not enter her mind. The hour for that had notyet arrived.
Seeing that his neat barb had left them all without answer, Mauricesaid: "Doubtless the informant who watches over your interests andvarious other interests of which you have no inkling, was the lateColonel Beauvais? For my part, I wish it was the late Beauvais in thesense in which we refer to the departed ones. But let us give himhis true name--Prince Konrad, the last of the Walmodens, a cashieredgamester."
Only Fitzgerald showed any surprise. Maurice once saw that the otherswere in the secret. They knew the Colonel. Did they know why he wasin Bleiberg? Let them find it out for themselves. He would not lift afinger to aid them. He leaned back and yawned.
"Pardon me," he said, with mock politeness, "but my hands are tied, andthe truth is, I am sleepy."
"Count," said Madame, "release him. He will be too well guarded to fearhis escaping."
The Colonel performed this service with alacrity. He honestly admiredthe young fellow who so seldom lost his temper. Besides, he had asneaking idea that the lad was being unjustly accused.
Maurice got up and stretched himself. He rubbed his wrists, then satdown and waited for the comedy to proceed.
"So you confess," said Madame, "that you sold the consols to thearchbishop?"
"I, confess?" Maurice screwed up his lips and began to whistle softly:
"Voici le sabre de mon Pere."
"You deny, then?" Madame was fast losing patience, a grave mistake whenone is dealing with a banterer.
Maurice changed the tune:
"J'aime les militaires, Leur uniforme coquet, Leur moustache et leurplumet--"
"Answer!" with a stamp of the foot.
"Je sais ce que je voudrais, Je voudrais etre cantiniere!"...
"Monsieur," said the pretty countess, after a furtive glance at Madame'sstormy eyes, "do you deny?"
The whistle ceased. "Madame, to you I shall say that I neither deny noraffirm. The affair is altogether too ridiculous to treat seriously. Ihave nothing to say." The whistle picked up the thread again.
Doubt began to stir in the eyes of the Englishman. He looked at Madamewith a kind of indecision, to find that she was glancing covertly athim. His gaze finally rested on Maurice, who had crossed his legs andwas keeping time to the music with his foot. Indeed, these were not theviolent protestations of innocence he had looked for. This demeanor wasnot at all in accord with his expectations. Now that he had possessedMadame's lips (though she might never possess the consols), Maurice didnot appear so guilty.
"Ah! c'est un fameux regiment, Le regiment de la Grande Duchesse!"
"You knew that Madame was her Highness," went on the Englishman, "andyet you kept that a secret from me. Can you blame me if I doubt you inother respects?"
"Sonnez donc la trompette, Et battez les tambours!"
And the warbler nodded significantly at Madame, whose frown grew stilldarker.
"Eh! Monsieur," cried the Colonel, with a protesting hand, "you are outof tune!"
"I should like to know why you returned here," said Madame. "Either youhave some plan, or your audacity has no bounds."
The whistle stopped again. "Madame, for once we agree. I, too, shouldlike to know why I returned here."
"Carewe," said Fitzgerald, "if you will give me your word--"
"Do not waste your breath, Monsieur," interrupted Madame.
"Will you give me your word?" persisted Fitzgerald, refusing to see thewarning in Madame's eyes.
"I will give you nothing, my lord; nothing. I have said that I willanswer neither one way nor the other. The accusation is too absurd. Now,Madame, what is your pleasure in regard to my disposition?"
"You are to be locked up, Monsieur," tartly. "You are too inquisitive toremain at large."
"My confinement will be of short duration," confidently.
"It rests with my pleasure alone."
"Pardon me if I contradict your Highness. I returned here incidentallyas a representative of the British ambassador in Vienna; I volunteeredthis office at the request of my own minister."
A shade of consternation came into the faces of his audience.
"If nothing is heard of me within two days, an investigation will ensue.It is very droll, but I am here to inquire into the whereabouts of oneLord Fitzgerald, who has disappeared. Telegrams to the four ends ofthe world have brought no news of his present residence. The archbishopinstituted the latter inquiries, because it was urgent and necessary heshould know."
Fitzgerald became enveloped in gloom.
"And your credentials, Monsieur?" said the duchess. "You have them, Ipresume?"
"I came as a private gentleman; a telegram to my minister in Vienna willbring indorsement."
"Ah! Then you shall be locked up. I can not accord you recognition;without the essential representations, I see nothing in you butan impertinent meddler. To-morrow evening you shall be conveyed toBrunnstadt, where you will reside for some time, I can assure you.Perhaps on your head will rest the blood of many gallant gentlemen; forwithin another twenty-four hours I shall declare war against Leopold.This will be the consequence of your disloyalty to your word." And shemoved toward the door, the others imitating her. Fitzgerald, more thanany one else, desired to get away.
And one by one they vanished. Once the countess turned and threwMaurice a glance which mystified him; it was half curtained with tears.Presently he was alone. His eye grasped every object. There was not aweapon in sight; only the bayonets on the table, and he could scarcelyhope to escape by use of one of these. A carafe of water stood on thetable. He went to it and half emptied it. His back was toward the door.Suddenly it opened. He wheeled, expecting to see the troopers. Hissurprise was great. Beauvais was leaning against the door, a halfhumorous smile on his lips. The tableau lasted several minutes.
"Well," said Beauvais, "you do not seem very glad to see me."
Maurice remained silent, and continued to gaze at his enemy over thetops of the upturned bayonets.
"You are, as I said before, a very young man."
"I killed a puppet of yours last night," replied Maurice, with apeculiar grimness.
"Eh? So it was you? However, Kopf knew too much; he is dead, thanks toyour service. After all, it was a stroke of war; the princess, whoselittle rose you have, was to have been a hostage."
"If she had refused to be a wife," Maurice replied.
Beauvais curled his mustache.
"I know a good deal more than Kopf."
"You do, certainly; but you are at a convenient nearness. What you knowwill be of no use to you. Let us sit down."
"I prefer to stand. The honor you do me is too delicate."
"O, you may have no fear."
"I have none--so long as my back isn't turned toward you."
Beauvais passed over this. "You are a very good blade; you handle asword well. That is a compliment, considering that I am held as thefirst blade in the kingdom. It was only to-day I learned that formerlyyou had been a cavalryman in America. You have the making of a soldier."
Maurice bowed, his hand resting near one of the bayonets.
"You are also a soldier of fortune-like myself. You made a good strokewith the archbishop. You hoodwinked us all."
Maurice did not reply.
"Very well; we shall not dwell on it. You are discreet."
Maurice saw that Beauvais was speaking in good faith.
"You have something to say; come to it at once, for it is trying towatch you so closely."
"I will give you--" He hesitated and scratched his chin. "I will give youten thousand crowns as the price of your silence in regard to the SouthAmerican affair."
A sardonic laugh greeted this proposal. "I did not know that you were socheap. But it is too late."
"Too late?"
"Doubtless, since by this time the authorities are in possession of theinteresting facts."
"I beg to differ from you."
"Do as you please," said Maurice, triumphantly. "I sent an account ofyour former exploits both to my own government and to the one which youso treacherously betrayed. One or the other will not fail to reach."
"I am perfectly well aware of that," Beauvais smiled. He reached intoa pocket, and for a moment Maurice expected to see a pistol come forth.But he was needlessly alarmed. Beauvais extracted two envelopes from thepocket and sailed them through the intervening space. They fell onthe table. "Put not your trust in hotel clerks," was the sententiousobservation. "At least, till you have discovered that no one elseemploys them. I am well served. The clerk was told to intercept youroutgoing post; and there is the evidence. Ten thousand crowns and a safeconduct."
Maurice picked up the letters mechanically. They were his; the stampswere not canceled, but the flaps were slit. He turned them this way andthat, bewildered. He was convinced that he could in no way cope withthis man of curious industries, this man who seemed to have a key forevery lock, and whom nothing escaped. And the wise old Marshal hadpermitted him to leave the kingdom without let or hindrance. Perhaps theMarshal understood that Beauvais was a sort of powder train, and thatthe farther he was away from the mine the better for all concerned.
"You are a great rascal," Maurice said finally.
"We will waive that point. The matter at present is, how much will ittake to buy your silence for the future?"
"And I am sorry I did not kill you when I had the chance," continuedMaurice, as if following a train of thought.
"We never realize how great the opportunity is till it has passed beyondour reach. Well, how much?"
"I am not in need of money."
"To be sure; I forgot. But the archbishop could not have given you acompetence for life."
"I choked a few facts out of Kopf," said Maurice. "You will wear nocrown--that is, earthly."
"And your heavenly one is near at hand," rejoined Beauvais.
Maurice absently fingered a bayonet.
"You refuse this conciliation on my part?" asked Beauvais.
"Positively."
"Well, then, if anything happens to you, you will have only yourself toblame. I will leave you to digest that suggestion. Your life hangs inthe balance. I will give you till to-morrow morning to make up yourmind."
"Go to the devil!"
"In that, I shall offer you the precedence." And Beauvais backed out;backed out because Maurice had wrenched loose one of the bayonets.
Maurice flung the bayonet across the room, went back to his chair, andtore his i
ll-fated letters into ribbons. When this was done he staredmoodily at the impromptu candlesticks, and tried to conceive the mannerin which Beauvais's threat would materialize.
When the troops returned to their watch, they found the prisoner in arecumbent position, staring at the cracks in the floor, oblivious toall else save his thoughts, which were by no means charitable or humane.They resumed their game of cards. At length Maurice fell into a lightslumber. The next time he opened his eyes it was because of a peculiarjar, which continued; a familiar, monotonous jar, such as the tread offeet on the earth creates. Tramp, tramp, tramp; it was a large bodyof men on the march. Soon this was followed by a lighter andnoisier sound--cavalry. Finally, there came the rumbling of heavymetal--artillery. More than an hour passed before these varying soundsgrew indistinct.
Maurice was now fully awake. An army had passed the Red Chateau.
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