Sophy of Kravonia: A Novel

by Anthony Hope

  V

  A QUESTION OF MEMORY

  King Alexis was minded that all proper recognition should be made ofSophy's service to his family. It had been her fortune to protect a lifevery precious in his eyes. Alien from his son in temperament andpursuits, he had, none the less, considerable affection for him. Butthere was more than this. With the Prince was bound up the one strongfeeling of a nature otherwise easy and careless. The King might gofishing on most lawful days, but it was always a Stefanovitch whofished--a prince who had married a princess of a great house, and hadfelt able to offer Countess Ellenburg no more than a morganatic union.The work his marriage had begun his son's was to complete. The royalhouse of Kravonia was still on its promotion; it lay with the Prince tomake its rank acknowledged and secure.

  Thus Sophy's action loomed large in the King's eyes, and he wasindolently indifferent to the view taken of it in the barrack-rooms andthe drinking-shops of Slavna. Two days after Mistitch's attempt, hereceived Sophy at the Palace with every circumstance of compliment. ThePrince was not present--he made military duty an excuse--but CountessEllenburg and her little son were in the room, and General Stenovics,with Markart in attendance, stood beside the King's chair.

  Sophy saw a tall, handsome, elderly man with thick, iron-gray hair, mostartfully arranged. (The care of it was no small part of the duty ofLepage, the King's French body-servant.) His Majesty's manners weredignified, but not formal. The warmth of greeting which he had preparedfor Sophy was evidently increased by the impression her appearance madeon him. He thanked her in terms of almost overwhelming gratitude.

  "You have preserved the future of my family and of our dynasty," hesaid.

  Countess Ellenburg closed her long, narrow eyes. Everything about herwas long and narrow, from her eyes to her views, taking in, on the way,her nose and her chin. Stenovics glanced at her with a smile of uneasypropitiation. It was so particularly important to be gracious justnow--gracious both over the preservation of the dynasty and over itspreserver.

  "No gratitude can be too great for such a service, and no mark ofgratitude too high." He glanced round to Markart, and calledgood-humoredly, "You, Markart there, a chair for this lady!"

  Markart got a chair. Stenovics took it from him and himself prepared tooffer it to Sophy. But the King rose, took it, and with a low bowpresented it to the favored object of his gratitude. Sophy courtesiedlow, the King waited till she sat. Countess Ellenburg bestowed on her asmile of wintry congratulation.

  "But for you, these fellows might--or rather would, I think--have killedmy son in their blind drunkenness; it detracts in no way from yourservice that they did not know whom they were attacking."

  There was a moment's silence. Sophy was still nervous in such company;she was also uneasily conscious of a most intense gaze directed at herby General Stenovics. But she spoke out.

  "They knew perfectly well, sir," she said.

  "They knew the Prince?" he asked sharply. "Why do you say that? It wasdark."

  "Not in the street, sir. The illuminations lit it up."

  "But they were very drunk."

  "They may have been drunk, but they knew the Prince. Captain Mistitchcalled him by his name."

  "Stenovics!" The King's voice was full of surprise and question as heturned to his Minister. The General was surprised, too, but very suave.

  "I can only say that I hear Mademoiselle de Gruche's words withastonishment. Our accounts are not consistent with what she says. Wedon't, of course, lay too much stress on the protestations of the twoprisoners, but Lieutenant Rastatz is clear that the street was decidedlydark, and that they all three believed the man they encountered to beColonel Stafnitz of the Hussars. That officer much resembles his RoyalHighness in height and figure. In the dark the difference of uniformwould not be noticed--especially by men in their condition." Headdressed Sophy: "Mistitch had an old quarrel with Stafnitz; that's thetrue origin of the affair." He turned to the King again. "That isRastatz's story, sir, as well as Mistitch's own--though Mistitch is, ofcourse, quite aware that his most unseemly, and indeed criminal, talk atthe Golden Lion seriously prejudices his case. But we have no reason todistrust Rastatz."

  "Lieutenant Rastatz ran away only because he was afraid," Sophyremarked.

  "He ran to bring help, mademoiselle," Stenovics corrected her, with alook of gentle reproach. "You were naturally excited," he went on."Isn't it possible that your memory has played you a trick? Thinkcarefully. Two men's lives may depend on it."

  "I heard Captain Mistitch call the Prince 'Sergius Stefanovitch,'" saidSophy.

  "This lady will be a most important witness," observed the King.

  "Very, sir," Stenovics assented dryly.

  Sophy had grown eager. "Doesn't the Prince say they knew him?"

  "His Royal Highness hasn't been asked for any account at present,"Stenovics answered.

  "If they knew who it was, they must die," said the King in evidentconcern and excitement.

  Stenovics contented himself with a bow of obedience. The King rose andgave Sophy his hand.

  "We shall hope to see you again soon," he said, very graciously."Meanwhile, General Stenovics has something to say to you in my namewhich will, I trust, prove agreeable to you." His eyes dwelt on her facefor a moment as she took her leave.

  Stenovics made his communication later in the day, paying Sophy the highcompliment of a personal call at the sign of the Silver Cock for thatpurpose. His manner was most cordial. Sophy was to receive an honoraryappointment in the Royal Household at an annual salary of ten thousandparas, or some four hundred pounds.

  "It isn't riches--we aren't very rich in Kravonia--but it will, I hope,make you comfortable and relieve you from the tiresome lessons whichMarkart tells me you're now burdened with."

  Sophy was duly grateful, and asked what her appointment was.

  "It's purely honorary," he smiled. "You are to be Keeper of theTapestries."

  "I know nothing about tapestries," said Sophy, "but I dare say I canlearn; it'll be very interesting."

  Stenovics leaned back in his chair with an amused smile.

  "There aren't any tapestries," he said. "They were sold a good manyyears ago."

  "Then why do you keep a--"

  "When you're older in the royal service, you'll see that it's convenientto have a few sinecures," he told her, with a good-humored laugh. "Seehow handy this one is now!"

  "But I shall feel rather an impostor."

  "Merely the novelty of it," he assured her consolingly.

  Sophy began to laugh, and the General joined in heartily. "Well, that'ssettled," said he. "You make three or four appearances at Court, andnothing more will be necessary. I hope you like your appointment?"

  Sophy laughed delightedly. "It's charming--and very amusing," she said."I'm getting very much interested in your country, General."

  "My country is returning your kind compliment, I can assure you," hereplied. His tone had grown dry, and he seemed to be watching her now.She waved her hands towards the Virgin with the lamp: the massive figurestood in its old place by the window.

  "What a lot I owe to her!" she cried.

  "We all owe much," said Stenovics.

  "The Prince thought some people might be angry with me--because CaptainMistitch is a favorite."

  "Very possible, I'm afraid, very possible. But in this world we must doour duty, and--"

  "Risk the consequences? Yes!"

  "If we can't control them, Mademoiselle de Gruche." He paused a moment,and then went on: "The court-martial on Mistitch is convened forSaturday. Sterkoff won't be well enough to be tried for another two orthree weeks."

  "I'm glad he's not dead, though if he recovers only to be shot--! Still,I'm glad I didn't kill him."

  "Not by your hand," said Stenovics.

  "But you mean in effect? Well, I'm not ashamed. Surely they deservedeath."

  "Undoubtedly--if Rastatz is wrong--and your memory right."

  "The Prince's own story?"

  "H
e isn't committed to any story yet."

  Sophy rested her chin on her hand, and regarded her companion closely.He did not avoid her glance.

  "You're wondering what I mean?--what I'm after?" he asked her, smilingquietly. "Oh yes, I see you are. Go on wondering, thinking, watchingthings about you for a day or two--there are three days between now andSaturday. You'll see me again before Saturday--and I've no doubt you'llsee the Prince."

  "If Rastatz were right--and my memory wrong--?"

  He smiled still. "The offence against discipline would be so much lessserious. The Prince is a disciplinarian. To speak with all respect, heforgets sometimes that discipline is, in the last analysis, only a partof policy--a means, not an end. The end is always the safety andtranquillity of the State." He spoke with weighty emphasis.

  "The offence against discipline! An attempt to assassinate--!"

  "I see you cling to your own memory--you won't have anything to say toRastatz!" He rose and bowed over her hand. "Much may happen between nowand Saturday. Look about you, watch, and think!"

  The General's final injunction, at least, Sophy lost no time in obeying;and on the slightest thought three things were obvious: the King wasvery grateful to her; Stenovics wished at any rate to appear verygrateful to her; and, for some reason or another, Stenovics wished hermemory to be wrong, to the end that the life of Mistitch and hiscompanion (the greater included the less) might be spared. Why did hewish that?

  Presumably--his words about the relation of discipline to policysupported the conclusion--to avoid that disturbance which the Prince hadforecasted as the result of Mistitch's being put to death. But thePrince was not afraid of the disturbance--why should Stenovics be? TheCommandant was all confidence--was the Minister afraid? In some sense hewas afraid. That she accepted. But she hesitated to believe that he wasafraid in the common sense that he was either lacking in nerve oroverburdened with humanity, that he either feared fighting or wouldshrink from a salutary severity in repressing tumult. If he feared, hefeared neither for his own skin nor for the skin of others; he fearedfor his policy or his ambition.

  These things were nothing to her; she was for the Prince, for his policyand his ambition. Were they the same as Stenovics's? Even a novice atthe game could see that this by no means followed of necessity. The Kingwas elderly, and went a-fishing. The Prince was young, and a martinet.In age, Stenovics was between the two--nearly twenty years younger thanthe King, a dozen or so older than the Prince. Under the present regimehe had matters almost entirely his own way. At first sight there was, ofa certainty, no reason why his ambitions should coincide precisely withthose of the Prince. Fifty-nine, forty-one, twenty-eight--the ages ofthe three men in themselves illuminated the situation--that is, ifforty-one could manage fifty-nine, but had no such power overtwenty-eight.

  New to such meditations, yet with a native pleasure in them, taking tothe troubled waters as though born a swimmer, Sophy thought, andwatched, and looked about. As to her own part she was clear. WhetherRastatz was right--whether that most vivid and indelible memory of herswas wrong--were questions which awaited the sole determination of thePrince of Slavna.

  Her attitude would have been unchanged, but her knowledge muchincreased, could she have been present at a certain meeting on theterrace of the Hotel de Paris that same evening. Markart was there--andlittle Rastatz, whose timely flight and accommodating memory renderedhim to-day not only a free man but a personage of value. But neither didmore than wait on the words of the third member of the party--thatColonel Stafnitz of the Hussars who had an old feud with Mistitch, forwhom Mistitch had mistaken the Prince of Slavna. A most magnanimous,forgiving gentleman, apparently, this spare, slim-built man withthoughtful eyes; his whole concern was to get Mistitch out of the mess!The feud he seemed to remember not at all; it was a feud of convenience,a feud to swear to at the court-martial. He was as ready to accommodateStenovics with the use of his name as Rastatz was to offer therequisite modifications of his memory. But there--with that supply of aconvenient fiction--his pliability stopped. He spoke to Markart, usinghim as a conduit-pipe--the words would flow through to GeneralStenovics.

  "If the General doesn't want to see me now--and I can understand that hemustn't be caught confabbing with any supposed parties to theaffair--you must make it plain to him how matters stand. Somehow and bysome means our dear Hercules must be saved. Hercules is an ass; but soare most of the men--and all the rowdies of Slavna. They love theirHercules, and they won't let him die without a fight--and a very bigfight. In that fight what might happen to his Royal Highness theCommandant? And if anything did happen to him, what might happen toGeneral Stenovics? I don't know that either, but it seems to me thathe'd be in an awkward place. The King wouldn't be pleased with him; andwe here in Slavna--are we going to trouble ourselves about the man whocouldn't save our Hercules?"

  Round-faced Markart nodded in a perplexed fashion. Stafnitz clapped himon the shoulder with a laugh.

  "For Heaven's sake don't think about it or you'll get it all mixed! Justtry to remember it. Your only business is to report what I say to theGeneral."

  Rastatz sniggered shrilly. When the wine was not in him, he was acunning little rogue--a useful tool in any matter which did not ask forcourage.

  "If I'd been here, Mistitch wouldn't have done the thing at all--or doneit better. But what's done is done. And we expect the General to standby us. If he won't, we must act for ourselves--for there'll be nobearing our dear Commandant if we sit down under the death of Mistitch.In short, the men won't stand it." He tapped Markart's arm. "The Generalmust release unto us Barabbas!"

  The man's easy self-confidence, his air of authority, surprised neitherof his companions. If there were a good soldier besides the Commandantin Slavna, Stafnitz was the man; if there were a head in Kravonia coolerthan Stenovics's, it was on the shoulders of Stafnitz. He was the brainto Mistitch's body--the mind behind Captain Hercules's loud voice andbrawny fist.

  "Tell him not to play his big stake on a bad hand. Mind you tell himthat."

  "His big stake, Colonel?" asked Markart. "What do I understand by that?"

  "Nothing; and you weren't meant to. But tell Stenovics--he'llunderstand."

  Rastatz laughed his rickety giggle again.

  "Rastatz does that to make you think he understands better than you do.Be comforted--he doesn't." Rastatz's laugh broke out again, but nowforced and uneasy. "And the girl who knocked Sterkoff out of time--Iwish she'd killed the stupid brute--what about her, Markart?"

  "She's--er--a very remarkable person, Colonel."

  "Er--is she? I must make her acquaintance. Good-bye, Markart."

  Markart had meant to stay for half an hour, but he went.

  "Good-bye, Rastatz."

  Rastatz had just ordered another _liqueur_; but, without waiting todrink it, he too went. Stafnitz sat on alone, smoking his cigar. Therewere no signs of care on his face. Though not gay, it was calm andsmooth; no wrinkles witnessed to worry, nor marred the comely remainsof youth which had survived his five and thirty years.

  He finished his cigar, drank his coffee, and rose to go. Then he lookedcarefully round the terrace, distinguished the prettiest woman with amomentarily lingering look, made his salute to a brother officer, andstrolled away along the boulevard.

  Before he reached the barracks in St. Michael's Square he met a womanwhose figure pleased him; she was tall and lithe, moving with a freegrace. But over her face she wore a thick veil. The veil no doubtannoyed him; but he was to have other opportunities of seeing Sophy'sface.