"Oh, if you put it that way—" agreed the Grand Duke, and he was rising once more, when the voice of de Chateauroux stopped him.
"No, not at any cost!" de Chateauroux; was saying; "I cannot and I will not give you up, Victoria!"
"—though I have heard," said his Highness, "that the moonlight is bad for the eyes." Saying this, he seated himself composedly in the darkest corner of the summer-house.
"This is madness!" the Grand Duchess said—"sheer madness."
"Madness, if you will," de Chateauroux persisted, "yet it is a madness too powerful and sweet to be withstood. Listen, Victoria,"—and he waved his hand toward the palace, whence music, softened by the distance, came from the lighted windows,—"do you not remember? They used to play that air at Staarberg."
The Grand Duchess had averted her gaze from him. She did not speak.
He continued: "Those were contented days, were they not, when we were boy and girl together? I have danced to that old-world tune so many times—with you! And to-night, madame, it recalls a host of unforgettable things, for it brings back to memory the scent of that girl's hair, the soft cheek that sometimes brushed mine, the white shoulders which I so often had hungered to kiss, before I dared—"
"Hein?" muttered the Grand Duke.
"We are no longer boy and girl," the Grand Duchess said. "All that lies behind us. It was a dream—a foolish dream which we must forget."
"Can you in truth forget?" de Chateauroux demanded,—"can you forget it all, Victoria?—forget that night a Gnestadt, when you confessed you loved me? forget that day at Staarberg, when we were lost in the palace gardens?"
"Mon Dieu, what a queer method!" murmured the Grand Duke. "The man makes love by the almanac."
"Nay, dearest woman in the world," de Chateauroux went on, "you loved me once, and that you cannot have quite forgotten. We were happy then—very incredibly happy,—and now—"
"Life," said the Grand Duchess, "cannot always be happy."
"Ah, no, my dear! nor is it to be elated by truisms. But what a life is this of mine,—a life of dreary days, filled with sick, vivid dreams of our youth that is hardly past as yet! And so many dreams, dear woman of my heart! in which the least remembered trifle brings back, as if in a flash, some corner of the old castle and you as I saw you there,—laughing, or insolent, or, it may be, tender. Ah, but you were not often tender! Just for a moment I see you, and my blood leaps up in homage to my dear lady. Then instantly that second of actual vision is over, I am going prosaically about the day's business, but I hunger more than ever—"
"This," said the Grand Duke, "is insanity."
"Yet I love better the dreams of the night," de Chateauroux went on; "for they are not made all of memories, sweetheart. Rather, they are romances which my love weaves out of multitudinous memories,—fantastic stories of just you and me that always end, if I be left to dream them out in comfort, very happily. For there is in these dreams a woman who loves me, whose heart and body and soul are mine, and mine alone. Ohe, it is a wonderful vision while it lasts, though it be only in dreams that I am master of my heart's desire, and though the waking be bitter…! Need it be just a dream, Victoria?"
"Not but that he does it rather well, you know," whispered the Grand Duke to the Baroness von Altenburg, "although the style is florid. Yet that last speech was quite in my earlier and more rococo manner."
The Grand Duchess did not stir as de Chateauroux bent over her jewelled hand.
"Come! come now!" he said. "Let us not lose our only chance of happiness. 'Come forth, O Galatea, and forget as thou comest, even as I already have forgot, the homeward way! Nay, choose with me to go a-shepherding—!'"
"Oh, but to think of dragging in Theocritus!" observed his Highness. "Can this be what they call seduction nowadays!"
"I cannot," the Grand Duchess whispered, and her voice trembled. "You know that I cannot, dear."
"You will go!" said de Chateauroux.
"My husband—"
"A man who leaves you for each new caprice, who flaunts his mistresses in the face of Europe."
"My children—"
"Eh, mon Dieu! are they or aught else to stand in my way, now that I know you love me!"
"—it would be criminal—"
"Ah, yes, but then you love me!"
"—you act a dishonorable part, de Chateauroux,—"
"That does not matter. You love me!"
"I will never see you again," said the Grand Duchess, firmly. "Go! I loathe you, I loathe you, monsieur, even more than I loathe myself for having stooped to listen to you."
"You love me!" said de Chateauroux, and took her in his arms.
Then the Grand Duchess rested her head upon the shoulder of de Chateauroux, and breathed, "God help me!—yes!"
"Really," said the Grand Duke, "I would never have thought it of Victoria. It seems incredible for any woman of taste to be thus lured astray by citations of the almanac and secondary Greek poets."
"You will come, then?" the Count said.
And the Grand Duchess answered, quietly, "It shall be as you will."
More lately, while the Grand Duke and the Baroness craned their necks, and de Chateauroux bent, very slowly, over her upturned lips, the Grand Duchess struggled from him, saying, "Hark, Philippe! for I heard some one—something stirring—"
"It was the wind, dear heart."
"Hasten!—I am afraid!—Oh, it is madness to wait here!"
"At dawn, then,—in the gardens?"
"Yes,—ah, yes, yes! But come, mon ami." And they disappeared in the direction of the palace.
III
The Grand Duke looked dispassionately on their retreating figures; inquiringly on the Baroness; reprovingly on the moon, as though he rather suspected it of having treated him with injustice.
"Ma foi," said his Highness, at length, "I have never known such a passion for sunrises. Shortly we shall have them announced as 'Patronized by the Nobility.'"
The Baroness said only, with an ellipsis, "Her own cousin, too!" [Footnote: By courtesy rather than legally; Mademoiselle Berlin was, however, undoubtedly the Elector of Badenburg's sister, though on the wrong side of the blanket; and to her (second) son by Louis Quinze his French Majesty accorded the title of Comte de Chateauroux.]
"Victoria," observed the Grand Duke, "has always had the highest regard for her family; but in this she is going too far—"
"Yes," said the Baroness; "as far as Vienna."
"—and I shall tell her that there are limits, Pardieu," the Grand Duke emphatically repeated, "that there are limits."
"Whereupon, if I am not mistaken, she will reply that there are—baronesses."
"I shall then appeal to her better nature—"
"You will find it," said the Baroness, "strangely hard of hearing."
"—and afterward I shall have de Chateauroux arrested."
"On what grounds, your Highness?"
"In fact," admitted the Grand Duke, "we do not want a scandal"
"It is no longer," the Baroness considered, "altogether a question of what we want."
"And, morbleu! there will be a horrible scandal—"
"The public gazettes will thrive on it."
"—and trouble with her father, if not international complications—"
"The armies of Noumaria and Badenburg have for years had nothing to do."
"—and later a divorce."
"The lawyers will call you blessed. In any event," the Baroness conscientiously added, "your lawyers will. I am afraid that hers—"
"Will scarcely be so courteous?" the Grand Duke queried.
"It is not altogether impossible," the Baroness admitted, "that in preparation of their briefs, they may light upon some other adjective."
"And, in short," his Highness summed it up, "there will be the deuce to pay."
"Oh, no! the piper," said the Baroness,—"after long years of dancing. That is what moralists will be saying, I suspect."
And this seemed so highly pro
bable that the plump little Grand Duke frowned, and lapsed into a most un-ducal sullenness.
"Your Highness," murmured the Baroness, "I cannot express my feelings as to this shocking revelation—"
"Madame," said the Grand Duke, "no more can I. At least, not in the presence of a lady."
"—But I have a plan—"
"I," said the Grand Duke, "have an infinity of plans; but de Chateauroux has a carriage, and a superfluity of Bourbon blood; and Victoria has the obstinacy of a mule."
"—And my plan," said the Baroness, "is a good one."
"It needs to be," said the Grand Duke.
But thereupon the Baroness von Altenburg unfolded to his Highness her scheme for preserving coherency in the reigning family of Noumaria, and the Grand Duke of that principality heard and marvelled.
"Amalia," he said, when she had ended, "you should be prime-minister—"
"Ah, your Highness," said the lady, "you flatter me, for none of my sex has ever been sufficiently unmanly to make a good politician."
"—though, indeed," the Grand Duke reflected, "what would a mere prime-minister do with lips like yours?"
"He would set you an excellent example by admiring them from a distance. Do you agree, then, to my plan?"
"Why, ma foi, yes!" said the Grand Duke, and he sighed. "In the gardens at dawn."
"At dawn," said the Baroness, "in the gardens."
IV
That night the Grand Duke was somewhat impeded in falling asleep. He was seriously annoyed by the upsetment of his escape from the Noumarian exile, since he felt that he had prodigally fulfilled his obligations, and in consequence deserved a holiday; the duchy was committed past retreat to the French alliance, there were two legitimate children to reign after him, and be the puppets of de Puysange and de Bernis, [Footnote: The Grand Duke, however, owed de Puysange some reparation for having begot a child upon the latter's wife; and with de Bernis had not dissimilar ties, for the Marquis de Soyecourt had in Venice, in 1749, relinquished to him the beautiful nun of Muran, Maria Montepulci,—which lady de Bernis subsequently turned over to Giacomo Casanova, as is duly recorded in the latter's Memoires, under the year 1753.] just as he had been. Truly, it was diverting, after a candid appraisal of his own merits, to reflect that a dwarfish Louis de Soyecourt had succeeded where quite impeccable people like Bayard and du Guesclin had failed; by four years of scandalous living in Noumaria he had confirmed the duchy to the French interest, had thereby secured the wavering friendship of Austria, and had, in effect, set France upon her feet. Yes, the deed was notable, and he wanted his reward.
To be the forsaken husband, to play Sgarnarelle with all Europe as an audience, was, he considered, an entirely inadequate reward. That was out of the question, for, deuce take it! somebody had to be Regent while the brats were growing up. And Victoria, as he had said, would make an admirable Regent.
He was rather fond of his wife than otherwise. He appreciated the fact that she never meddled with him, and he sincerely regretted she should have taken a fancy to that good-for-nothing de Chateauroux. What qualms the poor woman must be feeling at this very moment over the imminent loss of her virtue! But love was a cruel and unreasonable lord…. There was Nelchen Thorn, for instance…. He wondered would he have been happy with Nelchen? her hands were rather coarse about the finger-tips, as he remembered them…. The hands of Amalia, though, were perfection….
Then at last the body that had been Louis Quillan's fell asleep.
V
Discontentedly the Grand Duke appraised the scene, and in the murky twilight which heralded the day he found the world a cheerless place. The Gardens of Breschau were deserted, save for a travelling carriage and its fretful horses, who stamped and snuffled within forty yards of the summer-house.
"It appears," he said, "that I am the first on the ground, and that de Chateauroux is a dilatory lover. Young men degenerate."
Saying this, he seated himself on a convenient bench, where de Chateauroux found him a few minutes later, and promptly dropped a portmanteau at the ducal feet.
"Monsieur le Comte," the Grand Duke said, "this is an unforeseen pleasure."
"Your Highness!" cried de Chateauroux, in astonishment.
"Ludovicus," said the Grand Duke, "Dei gratia Archi Dux Noumariae, Princeps Gatinensis, and so on." And de Chateauroux caressed his chin.
"I did not know," said the Grand Duke, "that you were such an early riser. Or perhaps," he continued, "you are late in retiring. Fy, fy, monsieur! you must be more careful! You must not create a scandal in our little Court."
He shook his finger knowingly at Philippe de Chateauroux.
"Your Highness,—" said the latter, and stammered into silence.
"You said that before," the Grand Duke leisurely observed.
"An affair of business—"
"Ah! ah! ah!" said the Grand Duke, casting his eye first toward the portmanteau and then toward the carriage, "can it be that you are leaving Noumaria? We shall miss you, Comte."
"I was summoned very hastily, or I would have paid my respects to your Highness—"
"Indeed," said the Grand Duke, "your departure is of a deplorable suddenness—"
"It is urgent, your Highness—"
"—and yet," pursued the Grand Duke, "travel is beneficial to young men."
"I shall not go far, your Highness—"
"Nay, I would not for the world intrude upon your secrets, Comte—"
"—But my estates, your Highness—"
"—For young men will be young men, I know."
"—There is, your Highness, to be a sale of meadow land—"
"Which you will find, I trust, untilled."
"—And my counsellor at law, your Highness, is imperative—"
"At times," agreed the Grand Duke, "the most subtle of counsellors is unreasonable. I trust, though, that she is handsome?"
"Ah, your Highness—!" cried de Chateauroux.
"And you have my blessing upon your culture of those meadow lands. Go in peace."
The Grand Duke was smiling on his wife's kinsman with extreme benevolence when the Baroness von Altenburg appeared in travelling costume and carrying a portmanteau.
VI
"Heydey!" said the Grand Duke; "it seems, that the legal representative of our good Baroness, also, is imperative."
"Your Highness!" cried the Baroness, and she, too, dropped her burden.
"Every one," said the Grand Duke, "appears to question my identity." And meantime de Chateauroux turned from the one to the other in bewilderment.
"This," said the Grand Duke, after a pause, "is painful. This is unworthy of you, de Chateauroux."
"Your Highness—!" cried the Count.
"Again?" said the Grand Duke, pettishly.
The Baroness applied her handkerchief to her eyes, and plaintively said, "You do not understand, your Highness—"
"I am afraid," said the Grand Duke, "that I understand only too clearly."
"—and I confess I was here to meet Monsieur de Chateauroux—"
"Oh, oh!" cried the latter.
"Precisely," observed the Grand Duke, "to compare portmanteaux; and you had selected the interior of yonder carriage, no doubt, as an appropriate locality."
"And I admit to your Highness—"
"His Highness already knowing," the Grand Duke interpolated.
"—that we were about to elope."
"I can assure you—" de Chateauroux began.
"Nay, I will take the lady's word for it," said the Grand Duke—"though it grieves me."
"We knew you—would never give your consent," murmured the Baroness, "and without your consent I can not marry—"
"Undoubtedly," said the Grand Duke, "I would never have given my consent to such fiddle-faddle."
"And we love each other."
"Fiddle-de-dee!" said his Highness.
But de Chateauroux passed one hand over his brow. "This," he said, "is some horrible mistake—"
"It is," assente
d the Grand Duke, "a mistake—and one of your making."
"—For I certainly did not expect the Baroness—"
"To make a clean breast of it so readily?" his Highness asked. "Ah, but she is a lady of unusual candor."
"Indeed, your Highness—" began de Chateauroux.
"Nay, Philippe," the Baroness entreated, "confess to his Highness, as I have done."
"Oh, but—!" said de Chateauroux.
"I must beseech you to be silent," said the Grand Duke; "you have already brought scandal to our Court. Do not, I pray you, add profanity to the catalogue of your offences. Why, I protest," he continued, "even the Grand Duchess has heard of this imbroglio."
Indeed, the Grand Duchess, hurrying from a pleached walkway, was already within a few feet of the trio, and appeared no little surprised to find in this place her husband.
"I would not be surprised," said the Grand Duke, raising his eyes toward heaven, "if by this time it were all over the palace."
VII
Then, as his wife waited, speechless, the Grand Duke gravely asked: "You, too, have heard of this sad affair, Victoria? Ah, I perceive you have, and that you come in haste to prevent it,—even to pursue these misguided beings, if necessary, as the fact that you come already dressed for the journey very eloquently shows. You are self-sacrificing, you possess a good heart, Victoria."
"I did not know—" began the Grand Duchess.
"Until the last moment," the Grand Duke finished. "Eh, I comprehend. But perhaps," he continued, hopefully, "it is not yet too late to bring them to their senses."
And turning toward the Baroness and de Chateauroux, he said:
"I may not hinder your departure if you two in truth are swayed by love, since to control that passion is immeasurably beyond the prerogative of kings. Yet I beg you to reflect that the step you contemplate is irrevocable. Yes, and to you, madame, whom I have long viewed with a paternal affection—an emotion wholly justified by the age and rank for which it has pleased Heaven to preserve me,—to you in particular I would address my plea. If with an entire heart you love Monsieur de Chateauroux, why, then—why, then, I concede that love is divine, and yonder carriage at your disposal. But I beg you to reflect—"
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