The Puppet Crown

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER XXVIII. INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA

  Madame, surrounded by her staff and courtiers, sat in the main salonof the Continental Hotel, waiting for the archbishop. The false,self-seeking ministers of Leopold's reign crowded around her to paytheir respects, to compliment and to flatter her. Already they saw abrilliant court; already they were speculating on their appointments.Offices were plenty; new embassies were to be created, old embassies tobe filled anew.

  Madame listened to all coldly. There was a canker in her heart, and noone who saw that calm, beautiful face of hers dreamed how deeply thecanker was eating. There were two men who held aloof from complimentsand flattery. On the face of one rested a moody scowl; on the other,agony and remorse. These two men were Colonel Mollendorf and LordFitzgerald. The same thought occupied each mind; the scene in the throneroom.

  Presently an orderly announced: "Monseigneur the archbishop."

  Madame arose, and all looked expectantly, toward the door.

  The old prelate entered, his head high and his step firm. He appearedto see no one but Madame. But this time she met his glance without atremor.

  "Monseigneur," she began, "I have come into my own at last. But for youand your ambitious schemes, all this would not have come to pass. Yourobbed my father of his throne and set your puppet there instead. Bytrickery my father was robbed of his lawful inheritance. By trickery Iwas compelled to regain it. However, I do not wish to make an enemy ofyou, Monseigneur. I have here two letters. They come from Rome. In oneis your recall, in the other a cardinal's hat. Which do you prefer?"

  "Surely not the cardinal's hat," said the prelate. "Listen to me,Madame, for I have something to say to you which will cause you somereflection. If I had any ambitions, they are gone; if I had any dreams,they have vanished. Madame, some twenty years ago your duchy wascreated. It was not done to please Albrecht's younger brother, the duke,your father. Albrecht was childless. When your father was given theduchy it was done to exclude forever the house of Auersperg fromreigning on this throne. You say that you were tricked; well, and so wasI. Unhappily I touched the deeper current too late.

  "This poor king, who lies silent in the palace, was not my puppet.I wished to make him great, and bask in his greatness. But in that Ifailed; because Leopold was a poet and a philosopher, and the greatnessof earthly things did not concern him. Leopold and I were dupes ofAustria, as you are at this moment, Madame. So long as Leopold reignedpeacefully he was not to be disturbed. Had you shown patience andresignation, doubtless to-day you would be a queen. You will never bemore than a duchess.

  "Madame, you have done exactly as Austria intended you should. Thereis no longer any kingdom." There was a subdued triumph in his eyes. "Toyou," with a gesture toward the courtiers and office-seekers, "to you Ishall say, your own blind self-interest has destroyed you. Madame, youare bearing arms not against this kingdom, but against Austria, sincefrom to-day this land becomes the property of the imperial crown. If youstruggle, it will be futilely. For, by this move of yours, Austriawill declare that this kingdom is a menace to the tranquility of theconfederation. Madame, there is no corner-stone to your edifice. This iswhat I wished to say to you. I have done. Permit me to withdraw."

  For a moment his auditors were spellbound; then all the emotions of themind and heart portrayed themselves on the circle of faces. Madame'sface alone was inscrutable.

  "His Excellency, the Austrian ambassador!" announced the orderly.

  The archbishop bowed and left the apartment.

  "Your Highness," began the Austrian, "his Imperial Majesty commands yourimmediate evacuation of Bleiberg, and that you delay not your departureto the frontier. This kingdom is a crown land. It shall remain so by theconsent of the confederation. If you refuse to obey this injunction,an army will enforce the order. Believe me, Madame, this office isdistasteful to me, but it was not avoidable. What disposition am I tosubmit to his Majesty?"

  "Monsieur," she said, "I am without choice in the matter. To pit myforces against the emperor's would be neither politic nor sensible. Isubmit." There was not a sign of any emotion, no hint of the terriblewrath which lay below the surface of those politely modulated tones. Butit seemed to her as she stood there, the object of all eyes, that somepart of her soul had died. Her pride surmounted the humiliation, thepride of a woman and a princess. She would show no weakness to theworld.

  "Then, Madame," said the ambassador, suppressing the admiration in hiseyes at this evidence of royal nonchalance, "I shall inform his Majestyat once."

  When he had gone, Madame turned coldly to her stricken followers."Messieurs, the fortunes of war are not on our side. I thank you foryour services. Now leave me; I wish to be alone."

  One by one they filed out into the corridors. The orderly was the lastto leave, and he closed the door behind him. Madame surveyed the room.All the curtains were drawn. She was alone. She stood idly fingering thepapers which lay scattered on the table. Suddenly she lifted her handsabove her head and clenched them in a burst of silent rage. A dupe!doubly a dupe! To-morrow the whole world would laugh at her, and she waswithout means of wreaking vengeance. Presently the woman rose above theprincess. She sat down, laid her face on her arms and wept.

  Fitzgerald stepped from behind one of the curtains. He had taken refugethere during the archbishop's speech. He had not the strength to witnessthe final humiliation of the woman he loved. He was gazing out of thewindow at the troops in the Platz when the door closed.

  Madame heard the rustle of the curtain and looked up. She sprang to herfeet, her eyes blazing.

  "You?" she cried. "You? You have dared to hide that you might witness myweakness and my tears? You...."

  "Madame!"

  "Go! I hate you!"

  "Ah, Madame, we always hate those whom we have wronged. Do not forgetthat I love you, with a love that passes convention."

  "Monsieur, I am yet a princess. Did you not hear me bid you go?"

  "Why?" in a voice singularly free from agitation. "Because I am the onlyman who has served you unselfishly? Is that the reason, Madame? You havelaughed at me. I love you. You have broken me. I love you. I can neverlook an honest man in the face again. I love you. Though the shade ofmy father should rise to accuse me, still would I say that I love you.Madame, will you find another love like mine, the first love of a manwho will know no second? Forgive me if I rejoice in your despair, foryour despair is my hope. As a queen you would be too far away; but inyour misfortune you come so near! Madame, I shall follow you whereveryou go to tell you that I love you. You will never be able to shut yourears to my voice; far or near, you will always hear me saying that Ilove you. Ambition soars but a little way; love has no fetters. Madame,your lips were given to me. Can you forget that?"

  "Monsieur, what do you wish?" subdued by the fervor of his tones.

  "You! nothing in the world but you."

  "Princesses such as I am do not wed for love. What! you take advantageof my misfortune, the shattering of my dreams, to force your love uponme?"

  "Madame," the pride of his race lighting his eyes, "confess to me thatyou did not win my love to play with it. If my heart was necessary toyour happiness, which lay in these shattered dreams, tell me, and I willgo. My love is so great that it does not lack generosity."

  For reply she sorted the papers and extended a blood-stained packettoward him. "Here, Monsieur, are your consols." But the moment his handtouched them, she made as though to take them back. On the top ofthe packet was the letter she had written to him, and on which he hadwritten his scornful reply to her. She paled as she saw him unfold it.

  "So, Madame, my love was a pastime?" He came close to her, and his lookwas like an invisible hand bearing down on her. "Madame, I will go."

  "No, no!" she cried, yielding to the impulse which suddenly laid holdof her. "Not you! You shall not misjudge me. No, not you! Those consolswere given to me by the woman of your guide, Kopf, who found them no oneknows how. They were given to me this morning. That letter..... I didnot
intend that you should see it. No, Monsieur; you shall not misjudgethe woman, however you judge the princess. Forgive me, it was not thewoman who sought your love; it was the princess who had need of it.

  "I thought it would be but a passing fancy. I did not dream of this end.To-morrow I shall be laughed at, and I cannot defend myself as a mancan. I must submit; I must smile and cover my chagrin. O, Monsieur,do not speak to me of love; there is nothing in my heart but rage andbitterness. To stoop as I have stooped, and in vain! I am defeated; Imust remain passive; like a whipped child I am driven away. Talk not oflove to me. I am without illusion." She fell to weeping, and to him shewas lovelier in her tears than ever in her smiles. For would she haveshown this weakness to any but himself, and was it not a sign that hewas not wholly indifferent to her?

  "Madame, what is it?" he cried, on his knees before her. "What is it? Doyou wish a crown? Find me a kingdom, and I will buy it for you. Be mine,and woe to those who dare to laugh! Ah, could I but convince you thatlove is above crowns and kingdoms, the only glimpse we have on earthof Paradise. There is no boundary to the dreams; no horizons; a vast,beautiful wilderness, and you and I together. There are no storms, noclouds. Ambition, the god of schemes, finds no entrance. Ah, how I loveyou! Your face is ever before me, waking or sleeping. All thoughtsare merged into one, and that is of you. Self has dropped out of myexistence. Forget that you are a princess; remember only that you are awoman, and that I love you."

  Love has the key to eloquence. Madame forgot her vanished dreams; thebitterness in her heart subsided. That mysterious, indefinable thrill,which every woman experiences when a boundless love is laid at her feet,passed through her, leaving her sensible to a delicious languor. Thisman was strong in himself, yet weak before her, and from his weaknessshe gained a visible strength. Convention was nothing to him; that shewas of royal blood was still less. What other man would have dared herwrath as he had done?

  Nobility, she thought, was based on the observance of certain laws.Around the central star were lesser stars, from which the central stardrew its radiance. Whenever one of these stars deviates from its orbit,the glory of the central star is diminished. To accept the love of theEnglishman would be a blow to the pride of Austria. She smiled.

  "Monsieur," she said, in a hesitating voice, "Monsieur, I am indeed awoman. You ask me if I can forget that I offered you my lips? No. Nor doI wish to. Why did I permit you to kiss me? I do not know. I could notanalyze the impulse if I tried. Monsieur, I am a woman who demandsmuch from those who serve her. I am capricious; my moods vary; I amunfamiliar with sentiment; I hate oftener than I love. Listen. There isa canker in my heart, made there by vanity. When it heals--well--mayhapyou will find the woman you desire. Mind you, I make no promises.Follow me, if you will, but have patience; love me if you must, but insilence;" and with a gesture which was not without a certain fondness,she laid her hand upon his head.

  CHAPTER XXIX. INTO STILL WATERS AND SILENCE

  Into the princess's own chamber they carried Maurice, and laid him onthe white bed. Thus would she have it. No young man had ever beforeentered that sacred chapel of her maiden dreams. Beside the bed wasa small prie-dieu; and she knelt upon the cushion and rested her browagainst the crucifix. The archbishop covered his eyes, and the statephysician bent his head. Chastity and innocence at the feet of God; yet,not even these can hold back the fleeting breath of life. She asked Godto forgive her the bitterness in her heart; she prayed for strengthto repel the weakness in her limbs. Presently she rose, an angelicsweetness on her face. She looked down at Maurice; there was no sign oflife, save in the fitful drawing in of the nether lip. She dampened acloth and wiped the sweat of agony from the marble brow.

  "O, if only he might live!" she cried. "And he will not?"

  "No, your Highness," said the physician. "He has perhaps an hour.Extraordinary vitality alone is the cause of his living so long. He haslost nearly all the blood in his body. It was a frightful wound. He isdying, but he may return to consciousness before the end."

  The archbishop, with somber eyes, contemplated the pale, handsome face,which lay motionless against the pillow. His thoughts flew back to hisown youth, to the long years which had filled the gap between. Friendshad come and gone, loved ones vanished; and still he stood, like an oakin the heart of a devastated forest, alone. Why had he been spared,and to what end? Ah, how old he was, how very old! To live beyond theallotted time, was not that a punishment for some transgression? Hiseyes shone through a mist of tears.

  The princess, too, contemplated the face of the dying man. How manytimes had that face accompanied her in her dreams! How familiar she waswith every line of it, the lips, that turned inward when they smiled;the certain lock of hair that fell upon the forehead! And yet, shehad seen the face in reality less than half a dozen times. Why had itentered so persistently into her dreams? Why had the flush risen to hercheeks at the thought? At another time she would have refused to listento the voice which answered; but now, as the object of her thoughtslay dying on her pillow, her mind would not play truant to her heart.Sometimes the approach of love is so imperceptible that it does notprovoke analysis. We wake suddenly to find it in our hearts, so strongand splendid that we submit without question.... All, all her dreams hadvanished, the latest and the fairest. Across the azure of her youthhad come and gone a vague, beautiful flash of love. The door of earthlyparadise had opened and closed. That delicate string which vibrates withthe joy of living seemed parted; her heart was broken, and her youngbreast a tomb. With straining eyes she continued to gaze. The invisiblearms of her love clasped Maurice to her heart and held him there. Onlythat day he had stood before her, a delight to the eye; and she hadgiven him her hand to kiss. How bravely he had gone forth from the city!She had followed him with her ardent gaze until he was no longer to beseen. And now he lay dying.... for her.

  "Monsieur," she said, turning to the physician, "I have something to sayto Monseigneur."

  The physician bowed and passed into the boudoir, the door of which heclosed.

  "Father," she said to the prelate, "I have no secrets from you." Shepointed to Maurice. "I love him. I know not why. He comes from a foreignland; his language nor his people are mine, and yet the thought of himhas filled my soul. I have talked to him but four different times; andyet I love him. Why? I can not tell. The mind has no power to rule theimpulse of love. Were he to live, perhaps my love would be a sin. Is itnot strange, father, that I love him? I have lost parental love; I amlosing a love a woman holds priceless above all others. He is dyingbecause of me. He loves me. I read it in his eyes just before he fell.Perhaps it is better for him and for me that he should die, for if helived I could not live without him. Father, do I sin?"

  "No, my child," and the prelate closed his eyes.

  "I have been so lonely," she said, "so alone. I craved the love of theyoung. He was so different from any man I had met before. His bright,handsome face seemed constantly with me."

  At this moment Maurice's breast rose and fell in a long sigh. Presentlythe lids of his eyes rolled upward. Consciousness had returned. Hiswandering gaze first encountered the sad, austere visage of the prelate.

  "Monseigneur?" he said, faintly.

  "Do you wish absolution, my son?"

  "I am dying...?"

  "Yes."

  "I am dying.... God has my account and he will judge it. I am not aCatholic, Monseigneur." He turned his head. "Your Highness?" He rovedabout the room with his eyes and discerned the feminine touch in all theappointments.

  "Where am I?"

  "You are in my room, Monsieur," she said. Her voice broke, but she methis eyes with a brave smile. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

  "Nothing. I am alone. To die.... Well, one time or another. And yet, itis a beautiful world, when we but learn it, full of color and life andlove. I am young; I do not wish to die. And now... even in the midst...to go... where? Monseigneur, I am dying; to me princes and kings signifynothing. That is not to say that they ever did. In the
presence of deathwe are all equal. Living, I might not speak; dying... since I have but alittle while to stay... I may speak?"

  "Yes, my son, speak. Her Highness will listen."

  "It is to her Highness that I wish to speak."

  Her lips quivered and she made no secret of her tears. "What is it youwish to say to me, Monsieur Carewe?" She smoothed his forehead, and thetouch of her hand made him forget his pain.

  "Ah, I know not how to begin," he said. "Forgive me if I offend yourears.... I have been foolish even to dream of it, but I could not helpit.... When first I saw you in the garden.. the old dog was besideyou.... Even then it came to me that my future was linked to the thoughtof you. I did not know you were so far beyond.... I was very cold, butI dared not let you know it, for fear you would lead me at once to thegate. That night wherever I looked I saw you. I strove to think of someway to serve you, but I could not. I was so obscure. I never thoughtthat you would remember me again; but you did... That afternoon in thecarriage... I wanted to tell you then. That rose you dropped... it isstill on my heart. I loved you, and to this end. And I am glad to die,for in this short fortnight I have lived.... My mother used to call meMaurice ... to hear a woman repeat it again before I go."

  "Maurice." She took his hand timidly in hers, and looked at thearchbishop.

  "Speak to him from your heart, my child," said the prelate. "It willcomfort you both."

  Suddenly she drooped and the tears fell upon the hand in hers."Maurice," she whispered, "you have not loved in vain." She could utterno more; but she raised her head and looked into his eyes, and he sawthe glory of the world in hers.

  "Into still waters and silence," he said softly. "No more pain, nor joy,nor love; silence.... You love me!... Alexia; how often have I repeatedthat name to myself.... I have not strength to lift your hand to mylips."

  She kissed him on the lips. She felt as if she, too, were dying.

  "God guard your Highness," he said. "It is dark.... I do not see you...."

  He tried to raise himself, but he could not. He sank back, settleddeeply into the pillow, and smiled. After that he lay very still.