The Puppet Crown

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER XXVII. WORMWOOD AND LEES

  Madame, like a statue of expectancy, riveted her gaze on the throne.Hers at last! Her dreams were realized. She was no longer a duchess bypatent; she was a queen by right of inheritance; she was now to be apower among the great. The kingdom of her forefathers was hers. She hadreached the goal without bloodshed; she had been patient, and this washer reward. The blaze of her ambition dimmed all other stars. Her bosomheaved, triumph flashed in her beautiful eyes, and a smile partedher lips. Her first thought had been to establish headquarters inthe parlors of the Continental Hotel, and from there to summon thearchbishop, as a conqueror summons the chief of the vanquished. But no;she could not wait; above all things she desired the satisfaction of theeye. The throne of her forefathers!

  "Mine!" she murmured.

  Over her shoulders peered eager faces, in which greed and pleasure andimpassibility were written. One face, however, had on it the dull red ofshame. Not until now did the full force of his intended dishonestycome home to the Englishman; not until now did he realize the completedegradation to which his uniform had lowered him. His had been the handto stay this misfortune, and he had not lifted it. This king had beenhis father's friend; and he had taken up arms against him. O, he hadbegun life badly; he was making the end still more dismal. Would thiswoman ever be his? Her promises were not worth the air that had carriedthem to his ear. He, the consort of a queen? A cold sweat dampened hisforehead. How he loved her! And that kiss.... Queen or not, he would notbe her dupe, his would not be a tame surrender.

  From the Platz and the Park, where the two armies had bivouacked, camean intermittent cheering. The flames of bonfires were reflected on thewindows, throwing out in dull, yellow relief the faces of Madame and herstaff.

  Between the private apartments of the king and the throne room wasa wide sliding door. Suddenly this opened and closed. With his backagainst it, a pistol in one hand and a saber in the other, stood Captainvon Mitter, his face cold and resolute. All eyes were instantly directedtoward him.

  "Captain," said Madame, imperiously, "summon to me Monseigneur thearchbishop!"

  Her command fell on ears of stone. Von Mitter made no sign that he heardher.

  "Take care, Monsieur," she warned; "I am mistress here. If you will notobey me, my officers will."

  "Madame, I acknowledge no mistress save the daughter of the king. No oneshall pass this door to announce your presence to Monseigneur."

  This reply was greeted with sundry noises, such as sabers coming fromscabbards, clicking of pistol locks, and the moving of feet. Madameput out her hand suggestively, and the noise ceased. Von Mitter smileddisdainfully, but did not stir.

  "I warn you, Madame," he said, "that this is war. I accept all theresponsibilities of my position. I know nothing of any surrender orvictory. To me you are simply an enemy. I will kill any one who attemptsto pass. I should be pleased if General Kronau would make the first stepto question my sincerity."

  Kronau's fingers twitched around his revolver, but Madame touched hisarm. She could read faces. The young Captain was in earnest. She wouldtemporize.

  "Captain, all here are prisoners of war," she said. "Do not forget thatsoon there will be benefits for those who serve me."

  He laughed rudely. "I ask no benefits from your hands, Madame. I wouldrather stand on the corner and beg." He sent an insolent, contemptuousglance at Kronau, who could not support it. "And now that you havegratified your curiosity, I beg you to withdraw to the street. To-nightthis palace is a tomb, and woe to those who commit sacrilege."

  "The king?" she said, struck by a thought which caused a red spot toappear on each cheek.

  "Is dead. Go and leave us in peace."

  The wine which had tasted so sweet was full of lees, and the cupwormwood. Madame looked down, while her officers moved uneasily andglanced over their shoulders. Kronau brushed his forehead, to find itwet. Madame regretted the surrendering to the impulse. Her haste totriumph was lacking both in dignity and judgment. She had given the kingso little place in her thoughts that the shock of his death confusedher. And there was something in the calm, fearless contempt of the youngsoldier which embarrassed her.

  "In that case, Captain," she said, her voice uncertain and constrained,"bid Monseigneur to wait on me at the Continental."

  "Whenever that becomes convenient, Madame, Monseigneur will certainlyconfer with you and your rascally pack of officers." He longed for someone to spring at him; he longed to strike a blow in earnest.

  As he leaned against the door he felt it move. He stepped aside.The door rolled back, and her Royal Highness, the archbishop and thechancellor passed in. The princess's eyes were like dim stars, buther fine nostrils palpitated, and her mouth was rigid in disdain. Thechancellor looked haggard and dispirited, and he eyed all with thelistlessness of a man who has given up hope. The prelate's face was asfinely drawn as an ancient cameo, and as immobile. He gazed at Madamewith one of those looks which penetrate like acid; and, brave as shewas, she found it insupportable. There was a tableau of short duration.

  "Madame," said her Royal Highness, with a noble scorn, "what would yousay if one desecrated your father's tomb while you were kneeling besideit? What would you say? In yonder room my father lies dead, and yourpresence here, in whatever role, is an insult. Are you, indeed, a woman?Have you no respect for death and sorrow? Was the bauble so precious toyour sight that you could not wait till the last rites were paid tothe dead? Is your heart of stone, your mind devoid of pity and ofconscience? Are you lacking in magnanimity, which is the disposition ofgreat souls? Ah, Madame, you will never be great, for you have stoopedto treachery and deceit. You, a princess! You have purchased withglittering promises that which in time would have been given to you.And you will not fulfill these promises, for honesty has no part in youraffair. Shame on you, Madame. By dishonorable means you have gained thisroom. By dishonorable means you destroyed all those props on which myfather leaned. You knew that he had not long to live. Had you come tome as a woman; had you opened your heart to me and confided yourdesires--Ah, Madame, how gladly would I have listened. Whatever itsignifies to you, this throne is nothing to me. Had you come then--but,no! you must come to demand your rights when I am defenseless. You mustcome with a sword when there is none to defend. Is it possible that inour veins there runs a kindred blood? And yet, Madame, I forgive you.Rule here, if you will; but remember, between you and your crownthere will always be the shadow of disgrace. Monsieur," turning towardFitzgerald, whose shame was so great that it engulfed him, "your fatherand mine were friends--I forgive you. Now, Madame, I pray you, go, andleave me with my dead."

  The girlhood of Princess Alexia was gone forever.

  To Madame this rebuke was like hot iron on the flesh. It left herwithout answer. Her proud spirit writhed. Before those innocent eyes hersoul lay bare, offering to the gaze an ineffaceable scar. For thefirst time she saw her schemes in their true light. Had any served herunselfishly? Aye, there was one. And strangely enough, the first thoughtwhich formed in her mind when chaos was passed, was of him.

  How would this rebuke affect her in his eyes? What was he to her thatshe cared for his respect, his opinion, good or bad? What was themeaning of the secret dread? How she hated him for his honesty to her;for now perforce she must look up to him. She had stepped down fromthe pinnacle of her pride to which she might never again ascend. Hehad kissed her. How she hated him! And yet... Ah, the wine was flat,tinctured with the bitterness of gall, and her own greed had forced thecup to her lips. She could not remain silent before this girl; she mustreply; her shame was too deep to resolve itself into silence.

  "Mademoiselle," she said, "I beg of you to accept my sympathies; but thefortunes of war--"

  "Ah, Madame," interrupted the prelate, lifting his white, attenuatedhand, "we will discuss the fortunes of war--later."

  Madame choked back the sudden gust of rage. She glanced covertly at theEnglishman. But he, with wide-astonished eyes, was staring at the footof the th
rone, from which gradually rose a terrible figure, covered withblood and caked with drying clay. The figure leaned heavily on the hiltof a saber, and swayed unsteadily. He drew all eyes.

  "Ha!" he said, with a prolonged, sardonic intonation, "is that you,Madame the duchess? You are talking of war? What! and you, my lord theEnglishman? Ha! and war? Look at me, Madame; I have been in a battle,the only one fought to-day. Look at me! Here is the mark of that friendwho watched over your interests. But where is he? Eh? Where? Did youpick him up on the way?.... He is dead. For all that he was a rascal,he died like a man... .. as presently I shall die! Princes and kings andthrones; the one die and the other crumble, but truth lives on. And you,Madame, have learned the truth. Shame on your mean and little souls!There was only one honest man among you, and you dishonored him. TheMarshal... I do not see him. An honest man dies but once, but a traitordies a thousand deaths. Kronau... is that your name? It was anhonest one once. And the paltry ends you gain!.... The grand duchessof Gerolstein!.... What a comic opera! Not even music to go by! Eh,you,--you Englishman, has Madame made you a Lieutenant?--a Captain?--aGeneral? What a farce! Nobles, you? I laugh at you all for a pack ofthieves, who are not content with the purse, but must add honor to thebag. A man is what he makes himself. Medals and clothes, medals andclothes; that is the sum of your nobility!" He laughed, but the laughterchoked in his throat, and he staggered a few paces away from the throne.

  "Seize him!" cried Madame.

  When the men sprang forward to execute this command, Fitzgerald barredthe way.

  "No," he said doggedly; "you shall not touch him."

  "Stand aside, Monsieur," said Madame, determined to vent her rage onsome one.

  "Madame," said von Mitter, "I will shoot down the first man who lays ahand on Monsieur Carewe."

  The princess, her heart beating wildly at the sudden knowledge that laywritten on the inner vision, a faintness stealing away her sight, leanedback against the prelate.

  "He is dying," she whispered; "he is dying for me!"

  Maurice was now in the grasp of the final delirium. "Come on!" he cried;"come on! I will show you how a brave man can die. Come on, MessieursMedals and Clothes! Aye, who will go out with me?" He raised the saber,and it caught the flickering light as it trailed a circle above hishead. He stumbled toward them, sweeping the air with the blade. Suddenlythere came a change. He stopped. The wild expression faded from hisface; a surprised look came instead. The saber slipped from his fingersand clanged on the floor. He turned and looked at the princess, and thatglance conveyed to her the burden of his love. "Mademoiselle...." Hisknees doubled, he sank, rolled face downward, and a dark stain appearedand widened on the marble floor.

  "Go, Madame," said the prelate. "This palace is indeed a tomb." He feltthe princess grow limp on his arm. "Go."

  "Maurice!" cried Fitzgerald, springing to the side of the fallen man."My God! Maurice!"