54-40 or Fight

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE STORY OF HELENA VON RITZ

  There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which beams and blazes in the dark hours of adversity.--_Washington Irving_.

  "But Madam; but Madam--" I tried to begin. At last, after moments whichseemed to me ages long, I broke out: "But once, at least, you promisedto tell me who and what you are. Will you do that now?"

  "Yes! yes!" she said. "Now I shall finish the clearing of my soul. You,after all, shall be my confessor."

  We heard again a faltering footfall in the hallway. I raised an eyebrowin query.

  "It is my father. Yes, but let him come. He also must hear. He is indeedthe author of my story, such as it is.

  "Father," she added, "come, sit you here. I have something to say to Mr.Trist."

  She seated herself now on one of the low couches, her hands claspedacross its arm, her eyes looking far away out of the little window,beyond which could be seen the hills across the wide Potomac.

  "We are foreigners," she went on, "as you can tell. I speak yourlanguage better than my father does, because I was younger when Ilearned. It is quite true he is my father. He is an Austrian nobleman,of one of the old families. He was educated in Germany, and of late haslived there."

  "I could have told most of that of you both," I said.

  She bowed and resumed:

  "My father was always a student. As a young man in the university, hewas devoted to certain theories of his own. _N'est-ce pas vrai, mondrole?_" she asked, turning to put her arm on her father's shoulder ashe dropped weakly on the couch beside her.

  He nodded. "Yes, I wass student," he said. "I wass not content with theways of my people."

  "So, my father, you will see," said she, smiling at him, "being muchdetermined on anything which he attempted, decided, with five others, tomake a certain experiment. It was the strangest experiment, I presume,ever made in the interest of what is called science. It was wholly themost curious and the most cruel thing ever done."

  She hesitated now. All I could do was to look from one to the other,wonderingly.

  "This dear old dreamer, my father, then, and five others--"

  "I name them!" he interrupted. "There were Karl von Goertz, AlbrechtHardman, Adolph zu Sternbern, Karl von Starnack, and Rudolph vonWardberg. We were all friends--"

  "Yes," she said softly, "all friends, and all fools. Sometimes I thinkof my mother."

  "My dear, your mother!"

  "But I must tell this as it was! Then, sir, these six, all Heidelbergmen, all well born, men of fortune, all men devoted to science, andinterested in the study of the hopelessness of the average human beingin Central Europe--these fools, or heroes, I say not which--they decidedto do something in the interest of science. They were of the belief thathuman beings were becoming poor in type. So they determined to marry--"

  "Naturally," said I, seeking to relieve a delicate situation--"theyscorned the marriage of convenience--they came to our American way ofthinking, that they would marry for love."

  "You do them too much credit!" said she slowly. "That would have meantno sacrifice on either side. They married in the interest of _science!_They married with the deliberate intention of improving individuals ofthe human species! Father, is it not so?"

  Some speech stumbled on his tongue; but she raised her hand. "Listen tome. I will be fair to you, fairer than you were either to yourself orto my mother.

  "Yes, these six concluded to improve the grade of human animals! Theyresolved to marry _among the peasantry_--because thus they could selectfiner specimens of womankind, younger, stronger, more fit to bringchildren into the world. Is not that the truth, my father?"

  "It wass the way we thought," he whispered. "It wass the way we thoughtwass wise."

  "And perhaps it was wise. It was selection. So now they selected. Two ofthem married German working girls, and those two are dead, but there isno child of them alive. Two married in Austria, and of these one died,and the other is in a mad house. One married a young Galician girl, andso fond of her did he become that she took him down from his station tohers, and he was lost. The other--"

  "Yes; it was my father," she said, at length. "There he sits, my father.Yes, I love him. I would forfeit my life for him now--I would lay itdown gladly for him. Better had I done so. But in my time I have hatedhim.

  "He, the last one, searched long for this fitting animal to lead to thealtar. He was tall and young and handsome and rich, do you see? He couldhave chosen among his own people any woman he liked. Instead, hesearched among the Galicians, the lower Austrians, the Prussians. Heexamined Bavaria and Saxony. Many he found, but still none to suit hisscientific ideas. He bethought him then of searching among theHungarians, where, it is said, the most beautiful women of the world arefound. So at last he found her, that peasant, _my mother!_"

  The silence in the room was broken at last by her low, even, hopelessvoice as she went on.

  "Now the Hungarians are slaves to Austria. They do as they are bid,those who live on the great estates. They have no hope. If they rebel,they are cut down. They are not a people. They belong to no one, noteven to themselves."

  "My God!" said I, a sigh breaking from me in spite of myself. I raisedmy hand as though to beseech her not to go on. But she persisted.

  "Yes, we, too, called upon _our_ gods! So, now, my father came amongthat people and found there a young girl, one much younger than himself.She was the most beautiful, so they say, of all those people, many ofwhom are very beautiful."

  "Yes--proof of that!" said I. She knew I meant no idle flattery.

  "Yes, she was beautiful. But at first she did not fancy to marry thisAustrian student nobleman. She said no to him, even when she found whohe was and what was his station--even when she found that he meant herno dishonor. But our ruler heard of it, and, being displeased at thismockery of the traditions of the court, and wishing in his sardonic mindto teach these fanatical young nobles to rue well their bargain, he sentword to the girl that she _must_ marry this man--my father. It was madean imperial order!

  "And so now, at last, since he was half crazed by her beauty, as men aresometimes by the beauty of women, and since at last this had its effectwith her, as sometimes it does with women, and since it was perhapsdeath or some severe punishment if she did not obey, she married him--myfather."

  "And loved me all her life!" the old man broke out. "Nefer had man lovelike hers, I will haf it said. I will haf it said that she loved me,always and always; and I loved _her_ always, with all my heart!"

  "Yes," said Helena von Ritz, "they two loved each other, even as theywere. So here am I, born of that love."

  Now we all sat silent for a time. "That birth was at my father'sestates," resumed the same even, merciless voice. "After some short timeof travels, they returned to the estates; and, yes, there I was born,half noble, half peasant; and then there began the most cruel thing theworld has ever known.

  "The nobles of the court and of the country all around began to makeexistence hideous for my mother. The aristocracy, insulted by therepublicanism of these young noblemen, made life a hell for the mostgentle woman of Hungary. Ah, they found new ways to make her suffer.They allowed her to share in my father's estate, allowed her to appearwith him when he could prevail upon her to do so. Then they twitted andtaunted her and mocked her in all the devilish ways of their class. Shewas more beautiful than any court beauty of them all, and they hated herfor that. She had a good mind, and they hated her for that. She had afaithful, loyal heart, and they hated her for that. And in ways morecruel than any man will ever know, women and men made her feel thathate, plainly and publicly, made her admit that she was chosen asbreeding stock and nothing better. Ah, it was the jest of Europe, for atime. They insulted my mother, and that became the jest of the court, ofall Vienna. She dared not go alone from the castle. She dared not travelalone."

  "But your father resented this?"

  She nodded. "Duel after duel he fought,
man after man he killed, thanksto his love for her and his manhood. He would not release what he loved.He would not allow his class to separate him from his choice. But the_women!_ Ah, he could not fight them! So I have hated women, and madewar on them all my life. My father could not placate his Emperor. So,in short, that scientific experiment ended in misery--and me!"

  The room had grown dimmer. The sun was sinking as she talked. There wassilence, I know, for a long time before she spoke again.

  "In time, then, my father left his estates and went out to a small placein the country; but my mother--her heart was broken. Malice pursued her.Those who were called her superiors would not let her alone. See, heweeps, my father, as he thinks of these things.

  "There was cause, then, to weep. For two years, they tell me, my motherwept Then she died. She gave me, a baby, to her friend, a woman of hervillage--Threlka Mazoff. You have seen her. She has been my mother eversince. She has been the sole guardian I have known all my life. She hasnot been able to do with me as she would have liked."

  "You did not live at your own home with your father?" I asked.

  "For a time. I grew up. But my father, I think, was permanently shockedby the loss of the woman he had loved and whom he had brought into allthis cruelty. She had been so lovable, so beautiful--she was sobeautiful, my mother! So they sent me away to France, to the schools. Igrew up, I presume, proof in part of the excellence of my father'stheory. They told me that I was a beautiful animal!"

  The contempt, the scorn, the pathos--the whole tragedy of her voice andbearing--were such as I can not set down on paper, and such as I scarcecould endure to hear. Never in my life before have I felt such pity fora human being, never so much desire to do what I might in sheercompassion.

  But now, how clear it all became to me! I could understand many strangethings about the character of this singular woman, her whims, herunaccountable moods, her seeming carelessness, yet, withal, her dignityand sweetness and air of breeding--above all her mysteriousness. Letothers judge her for themselves. There was only longing in my heart thatI might find some word of comfort. What could comfort her? Was not life,indeed, for her to remain a perpetual tragedy?

  "But, Madam," said I, at length, "you must not wrong your father andyour mother and yourself. These two loved each other devotedly. Well,what more? You are the result of a happy marriage. You are beautiful,you are splendid, by that reason."

  "Perhaps. Even when I was sixteen, I was beautiful," she mused. "I haveheard rumors of that. But I say to you that then I was only a beautifulanimal. Also, I was a vicious animal I had in my heart all the malicewhich my mother never spoke. I felt in my soul the wish to injure women,to punish men, to torment them, to make them pay! To set even thosebalances of torture!--ah, that was my ambition! I had not forgottenthat, when I first met you, when I first heard of--her, the woman whomyou love, whom already in your savage strong way you have wedded--thewoman whose vows I spoke with her--I--I, Helena von Ritz, with historysuch as mine!

  "Father, father,"--she turned to him swiftly; "rise--go! I can not nowspeak before you. Leave us alone until I call!"

  Obedient as though he had been the child and she the parent, the old manrose and tottered feebly from the room.

  "There are things a woman can not say in the presence of a parent," shesaid, turning to me. Her face twitched. "It takes all my bravery to talkto you."

  "Why should you? There is not need. Do not!"

  "Ah, I must, because it is fair," said she. "I have lost, lost! I toldyou I would pay my wager."

  After a time she turned her face straight toward mine and went on withher old splendid bravery.

  "So, now, you see, when I was young and beautiful I had rank and money.I had brains. I had hatred of men. I had contempt for the aristocracy.My heart was peasant after all. My principles were those of therepublican. Revolution was in my soul, I say. Thwarted, distorted,wretched, unscrupulous, I did what I could to make hell for those whohad made hell for us. I have set dozens of men by the ears. I have beenpromised in marriage to I know not how many. A dozen men have fought tothe death in duels over me. For each such death I had not even athought. The more troubles I made, the happier I was. Oh, yes, in time Ibecame known--I had a reputation; there is no doubt of that.

  "But still the organized aristocracy had its revenge--it had its will ofme, after all. There came to me, as there had to my mother, an imperialorder. In punishment for my fancies and vagaries, I was condemned tomarry a certain nobleman. That was the whim of the new emperor,Ferdinand, the degenerate. He took the throne when I was but sixteenyears of age. He chose for me a degenerate mate from his own sort." Shechoked, now.

  "You did marry him?"

  She nodded. "Yes. Debauche, rake, monster, degenerate, product of thataristocracy which had oppressed us, I was obliged to marry him, a manthree times my age! I pleaded. I begged. I was taken away by night. Iwas--I was--They say I was married to him. For myself, I did not knowwhere I was or what happened. But after that they said that I was thewife of this man, a sot, a monster, the memory only of manhood. Now,indeed, the revenge of the aristocracy was complete!"

  She went on at last in a voice icy cold. "I fled one night, back toHungary. For a month they could not find me. I was still young. I saw mypeople then as I had not before. I saw also the monarchies of Europe.Ah, now I knew what oppression meant! Now I knew what class distinctionand special privileges meant! I saw what ruin it was spelling for ourcountry--what it will spell for your country, if they ever come to rulehere. Ah, then that dream came to me which had come to my father, thatbeautiful dream which justified me in everything I did. My friend, canit--can it in part justify me--now?

  "For the first time, then, I resolved to live! I have loved my fatherever since that time. I pledged myself to continue that work which hehad undertaken! I pledged myself to better the condition of humanity ifI might.

  "There was no hope for me. I was condemned and ruined as it was. My lifewas gone. Such as I had left, that I resolved to give to--what shall wecall it?-the _idee democratique_.

  "Now, may God rest my mother's soul, and mine also, so that some time Imay see her in another world--I pray I may be good enough for that sometime. I have not been sweet and sinless as was my mother. Fate laid aheavier burden upon me. But what remained with me throughout was theidea which my father had bequeathed me--"

  "Ah, but also that beauty and sweetness and loyalty which came to youfrom your mother," I insisted.

  She shook her head. "Wait!" she said. "Now they pursued me as though Ihad been a criminal, and they took me back--horsemen about me who did asthey liked. I was, I say, a sacrifice. News of this came to that man whowas my husband. They shamed him into fighting. He had not the courage ofthe nobles left. But he heard of one nobleman against whom he had aspecial grudge; and him one night, foully and unfairly, he murdered.

  "News of that came to the Emperor. My husband was tried, and, the casebeing well known to the public, it was necessary to convict him for thesake of example. Then, on the day set for his beheading, the Emperorreprieved him. The hour for the execution passed, and, being now freefor the time, he fled the country. He went to Africa, and there he sodisgraced the state that bore him that of late times I hear he has beensent for to come back to Austria. Even yet the Emperor may suspend thereprieve and send him to the block for his ancient crime. If he had athousand heads, he could not atone for the worse crimes he has done!

  "But of him, and of his end, I know nothing. So, now, you see, I was andam wed, and yet am not wed, and never was. I do not know what I am, norwho I am. After all, I can not tell you who I am, or what I am, becauseI myself do not know.

  "It was now no longer safe for me in my own country. They would not letme go to my father any more. As for him, he went on with his studies,some part of his mind being bright and clear. They did not wish himabout the court now. All these matters were to be hushed up. The courtof England began to take cognizance of these things. Our government wasscandalized. They sent
my father, on pretext of scientific errands, intoone country and another--to Sweden, to England, to Africa, at last toAmerica. Thus it happened that you met him. You must both have been verynear to meeting me in Montreal. It was fate, as we of Hungary would say.

  "As for me, I was no mere hare-brained radical. I did not go to Russia,did not join the revolutionary circles of Paris, did not yet seek outPrussia. That is folly. My father was right. It must be the years, itmust be the good heritage, it must be the good environment, it must beeven opportunity for all, which alone can produce good human beings! Inshort, believe me, a victim, _the hope of the world is in a realdemocracy_. Slowly, gradually, I was coming to believe that."

  She paused a moment. "Then, one time, Monsieur,--I met you, here in thisvery room! God pity me! You were the first man I had ever seen. Godpity me!--I believe I--loved you--that night, that very first night! Weare friends. We are brave. You are man and gentleman, so I may say that,now. I am no longer woman. I am but sacrifice.

  "Opportunity must exist, open and free for all the world," she went on,not looking at me more than I could now at her. "I have set my life toprove this thing. When I came here to this America--out of pique, out ofa love of adventure, out of sheer daring and exultation inimposture--_then_ I saw why I was born, for what purpose! It was to dosuch work as I might to prove the theory of my father, and to justifythe life of my mother. For that thing I was born. For that thing I havebeen damned on this earth; I may be damned in the life to come, unless Ican make some great atonement. For these I suffer and shall alwayssuffer. But what of that? There must always be a sacrifice."

  The unspeakable tragedy of her voice cut to my soul. "But listen!" Ibroke out. "You are young. You are free. All the world is before you.You can have anything you like--"

  "Ah, do not talk to me of that," she exclaimed imperiously. "Do nottempt me to attempt the deceit of myself! I made myself as I am, longago. I did not love. I did not know it. As to marriage, I did not needit. I had abundant means without. I was in the upper ranks of society. Iwas there; I was classified; I lived with them. But always I had mypurposes, my plans. For them I paid, paid, paid, as a woman must,with--what a woman has.

  "But now, I am far ahead of my story. Let me bring it on. I went toParis. I have sown some seeds of venom, some seeds of revolution, in oneplace or another in Europe in my time. Ah, it works; it will go! Hereand there I have cost a human life. Here and there work was to be donewhich I disliked; but I did it. Misguided, uncared for, mishandled as Ihad been--well, as I said, I went to Paris.

  "Ah, sir, will you not, too, leave the room, and let me tell on thisstory to myself, to my own soul? It is fitter for my confessor than foryou."

  "Let me, then, _be_ your confessor!" said I. "Forget! Forget! You havenot been this which you say. Do I not know?"

  "No, you do not know. Well, let be. Let me go on! I say I went to Paris.I was close to the throne of France. That little Duke of Orleans, son ofLouis Philippe, was a puppet in my hands. Oh, I do not doubt I didmischief in that court, or at least if I failed it was through no lackof effort! I was called there 'America Vespucci.' They thought meItalian! At last they came to know who I was. They dared not make openrupture in the face of the courts of Europe. Certain of their highofficials came to me and my young Duke of Orleans. They asked me toleave Paris. They did not command it--the Duke of Orleans cared for thatpart of it. But they requested me outside--not in his presence. Theyoffered me a price, a bribe--such an offering as would, I fancied, leaveme free to pursue my own ideas in my own fashion and in any corner ofthe world. You have perhaps seen some of my little fancies. I imaginedthat love and happiness were never for me--only ambition and unrest.With these goes luxury, sometimes. At least this sort of personalliberty was offered me--the price of leaving Paris, and leaving the sonof Louis Philippe to his own devices. I did so."

  "And so, then you came to Washington? That must have been some yearsago."

  "Yes; some five years ago. I still was young. I told you that you musthave known me, and so, no doubt, you did. Did _you_ ever hear of'America Vespucci'?"

  A smile came to my face at the suggestion of that celebrated adventuressand mysterious impostress who had figured in the annals of Washington--afair Italian, so the rumor ran, who had come to this country to set up aclaim, upon our credulity at least, as to being the descendant of noneless than Amerigo Vespucci himself! This supposititious Italian hadindeed gone so far as to secure the introduction of a bill in Congressgranting to her certain Lands. The fate of that bill even then hung inthe balance. I had no reason to put anything beyond the audacity of thiswoman with whom I spoke! My smile was simply that which marked theeventual voting down of this once celebrated measure, as merry and asbold a jest as ever was offered the credulity of a nation--oneconceivable only in the mad and bitter wit of Helena von Ritz!

  "Yes, Madam," I said, "I have heard of 'America Vespucci.' I presumethat you are now about to repeat that you are she!"

  She nodded, the mischievous enjoyment of her colossal jest showing inher eyes, in spite of all. "Yes," said she, "among other things, I havebeen 'America Vespucci'! There seemed little to do here in intrigue, andthat was my first endeavor to amuse myself. Then I found otheremployment. England needed a skilful secret agent. Why should I befaithful to England? At least, why should I not also enjoy intrigue withyonder government of Mexico at the same time? There came also Mr. VanZandt of this Republic of Texas. Yes, it is true, I have seen some sporthere in Washington! But all the time as I played in my own littlegame--with no one to enjoy it save myself--I saw myself begin to lose.This country--this great splendid country of savages--began to take meby the hands, began to look me in the eyes, and to ask me, '_Helena vonRitz, what are you? What might you have been?_'

  "So now," she concluded, "you asked me, asked me what I was, and I havetold you. I ask you myself, what am I, what am I to be; and I say, I amunclean. But, being as I am, I have done what I have done. It was for aprinciple--or it was--for you! I do not know."

  "There are those who can be nothing else but clean," I broke out. "Ishall not endure to hear you speak thus of yourself. You--you, what haveyou not done for us? Was not your mother clean in her heart? Sins suchas you mention were never those of scarlet. If you have sinned, yoursins are white as snow. I at least am confessor enough to tell youthat."

  "Ah, my confessor!" She reached out her hands to me, her eyes swimmingwet. Then she pushed me back suddenly, beating with her little handsupon my breast as though I were an enemy. "Do not!" she said. "Go!"

  My eye caught sight of the great key, _Pakenham's key_, lying there onthe table. Maddened, I caught it up, and, with a quick wrench of mynaked hands, broke it in two, and threw the halves on the floor to jointhe torn scroll of England's pledge.

  I divided Oregon at the forty-ninth parallel, and not at fifty-fourforty, when I broke Pakenham's key. But you shall see why I have neverregretted that.

  "Ask Sir Richard Pakenham if he wants his key _now!_" I said.