“They must have been in their stalls,” replied Frau Hansen with a mischievous laugh.
“And the pearl necklace, my dear Frau Hansen, you must let me see it.”
“Yes, I would if it were possible …”
“If it were possible? Why not?”
“Because after Brigitte had gone on board, all of a sudden, the necklace disappeared. She must have lost it or left it behind in the palace in her excitement.”
“In that case, I should have inquired about it at once.”
“So should I. But Brigitte is a strange girl and I heard later that when Hansen was trying to insist on asking about it, she only said: ‘That would be common and contrary to court etiquette.’”
“Yes,” said Holk, who was now beginning to see certain things rather more clearly. “That’s quite true. And such scruples need to be respected.”
12
At the end of her story which, when it came to the lost necklace, seemed a trifle far-fetched even to the gullible Holk, Frau Hansen stood up, “in order not to disturb the Count any more,” and was allowed to leave. Not that Holk was impatient, quite the contrary, for he loved listening to that sort of gossip, and the suspicious penumbra in which everything seemed bathed served only to increase his interest. However, a glance at the bracket-clock warned him against further willing indulgence in Frau Hansen’s gifts of story-telling: at eleven o’clock, barely one hour hence, he was expected at the Princess’s, and beforehand he would have to write a short letter to his wife announcing his safe arrival. He had therefore to hurry—something which, on occasion, he was capable of doing—and at five minutes to eleven he climbed into the carriage which took him to the Princesses’ Palace, only two minutes away.
The Princess’s apartments were on the first floor. Holk, in his court-dress, which he himself found not unbecoming, went upstairs into an ante-room; and then, immediately afterwards, he was shown into a comfortable reception room, richly panelled and carpeted but, apart from the desk, sparsely furnished; it was here that the Princess received visitors or granted audiences. The flunkey said that he would announce him straightaway. Holk walked over to one of the windows that faced the door through which the Princess would enter and looked out on to the square and the street: everything looked dead—elegant and boring—and there was nothing to be seen except fallen leaves which the lively breeze was whirling about over the paving-stones. Feeling himself suddenly deserted and lonely, Holk turned back into the room and directed his gaze at the only two portraits that decorated the smooth stucco walls. One of them, over the upholstered sofa, was a likeness of the Princess’s uncle, King Christian VII of ever-blessed memory, the other, over the desk, was a portrait of another close relative, also deceased, a landgrave from Thuringia. Its gilt frame was draped with dusty crepe and the dust made it look not like crepe but a spider’s web. The landgrave’s face was kind, courageous, and commonplace, and Holk could not help asking himself what ideas on government the deceased could possibly have contributed to further the happiness of a grateful country, since the only thing that could be deduced with some certainty from the portrait was a lively interest in that country’s daughters.
Before Holk had completed his meditations on this subject, a small door at the back of the room opened and in came the Princess, who was exactly as one would have imagined from the arrangement of the room: comfortably, almost casually, dressed and, in any case, completely indifferent to elegance. Holk walked towards his mistress and kissed her hand, which was completely encased in a silk glove, and following her glance, led her to the sombre-coloured sofa, whose springs seemed somewhat weak.
“Sit down, my dear Holk. This fauteuil will no doubt hardly meet with your favour, but that high arm-chair over there …”
Holk drew up the chair and as soon as he was seated, the Princess, visibly pleased at the sight of such a handsome man, continued with great bonhomie and in a tone of long standing friendship: “What a cheerful colour you bring with you, my dear Holk. Here I am surrounded by nothing but town-faces. Can you imagine Pentz as a gentleman-farmer or even Erichsen as a hop-grower? You’re laughing and I know what you are thinking—a hop-pole, yes, he’s certainly long enough for that. Town-faces, as I was saying. And so I am delighted to see your splendid Schleswig-Holstein colour, red and white like its flag. And how is the countess, your dear wife? I know that she is not so particularly fond of us but that makes us love her all the more and she can’t stop us from doing that.”
Holk bowed.
“And what do you think of all this fuss and bother here? A real cavalry charge against poor Hall. You know, he’s still the cleverest and best of them all and I can even forgive him for being so attached to our little milliner, the countess, to whom, by the way, I would have allotted the appropriate coat-of-arms of a milliners’ block and crinoline couchant, perhaps with the motto “Per ardua ad vacua.” I shall never be able to understand the bad taste of that nephew of mine, even if I am only his half-aunt. And although she is forty years old, I can’t think the countess is old enough to rank as an archaeological specimen or, what is the same thing; as an historical antique that he has dug up, which seems to be my nephew’s criterion for almost everything. But why should I be surprised? George II, whom my grandfather used often to talk about in my young days, also adhered to the motto: Fair, fat, and forty. Why not my nephew the King? Incidentally, have you seen the account of yesterday’s session? A really scandalous exhibition of spite and hatred. And leading the pack, of course, as always, that odious Tompsen from Oldensworth, half a compatriot of yours, incidentally, and an unbearable bully and babbler, a mixture of pettifogging lawyer and petty Holstein patriot.”
Holk was embarrassed that the conversation was taking a political turn from the very beginning and something of this embarrassment must have been reflected in his face, for the Princess continued: “But let’s forget all this miserable politics. I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment, especially as you have only just arrived and I know that you are an heretical Schleswig-Holsteiner, one of those who will never be convinced. As soon as we think that we have come to terms with you, you turn out to be further away than ever. Don’t bother to reply, there’s no need to protest your loyalty, I know that you are as loyal as anyone can be but when it comes to the point, the old stumbling-block is always there and that frightful platitude, ‘shall remain undivided,’ which is always being quoted, comes between us all the time.”
Holk smiled.
“That is really the crux of the matter. To whom does Schleswig-Holstein belong? Your Schleswig, Holk. Hall has had the courage to answer that question as befits a Dane, and because he wants to answer it intelligently and not start sabre-rattling straight-away, we have this storm against him from friend and foe alike. And that is the worst of it all. I don’t find it either surprising or frightening that your compatriot Tompsen should attack him, but that good loyal Danes who are of one mind with Hall, with the King and with myself but are unfortunately hot-blooded, that these good loyal Danes, as I was saying, should behave like students and professors, always insisting on the rightness of their own programme alone and bent on bringing down the best man, the only man who has some idea of politics and knows how to wait, which is the first law of all politics—I find that quite exasperating.”
As she was finishing her tirade, Baron Pentz was announced.
“Most welcome,” cried the Princess … and at the same moment as Pentz came in through the folding doors, there appeared from the other side, by the small door through which the Princess had come, a young woman with fair hair, a good figure and complexion, though with rather irregular features, who went up to the Princess, while Pentz stopped and bowed again.
“Soyez le bienvenu,” said the Princess, shaking him gently by the hand. “You have come just at the right time, Pentz, because you are putting an end to a political lecture, a task for which no one is better qualified than you. As soon as my eyes fall on you, everything is transfigured i
nto a world of peace, and if I had just been talking about Henri Quatre and Ravaillac, after your arrival I should find myself talking of Henri Quatre et la poule au pot, which is something quite different …”
“And most agreeable, as well, my dear Princess. I am happy to find myself installed, without effort on my part, as the bearer of such idyllic things. But …” and his eye moved from Holk to the fair-haired girl and back … “even in Arcady the custom of introduction must have existed. I am not sure whether I should exercise my duty as introducer …”
“Or resign in favour of Her Royal Highness,” laughed the Princess. “I think, my dear Pentz, that while reason and duty are both on your side, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of personally introducing two people of whom I think so highly: Count Holk, Fräulein Ebba von Rosenberg.”
They both bowed, Holk somewhat stiffly, the young woman easily and with self-assurance tinged with humour. The Princess, however, plainly showing little interest in this introduction, at once turned to Pentz and said: “That having now been accomplished, etiquette, on which you have to keep your eagle eye, has been satisfied. But you will not make me believe that you have come here merely to be present at this most solemn presentation or to perform it yourself. You’ve something else on your mind and you are now commanded to reveal your true purpose. When one reads so many parliamentary reports, one ends by becoming a virtuoso in parliamentary expressions oneself.”
“I have come, your Highness, humbly to report that this afternoon an important military banquet is being given in Klampenborg …”
“What for? Or in whose honour?”
“In honour of General de Meza, who arrived here from Jutland yesterday morning.”
“De Meza. Excellent. But frankly, Pentz, what are we expected to do about it? After all, I can’t preside at an officers’ mess dinner and drink de Meza’s health.”
“The question was whether it might not perhaps be possible. Your Highness has done more surprising things. And it is because you do them that the people are so attached to you.”
“Ah, the people. That is another matter. You know what I think of so-called popularity. The King, my nephew, is popular; but I have no desperate longing to be the ideal of every blue-jacket or even of our ladies from the market. No, Pentz, no popularity for me. But since you’ve mentioned Klampenborg, the sun is shining, our afternoon is free, we might perhaps drive out, not because of the banquet but in spite of it. In any case, we have been sitting at home for a whole week without any proper fresh air and my dear Rosenberg would certainly be suffering from chlorosis if her blood did not contain so much iron.”
The girl’s face brightened visibly at the prospect of escaping from the monotony of the Princesses’ Palace for a whole afternoon and Pentz, something of an asthmatic, was himself always ready for fresh air, in spite of the fact that the doctors all assured him that sea-breezes only aggravated his condition. He therefore eagerly acquiesced and asked at what time Her Royal Highness would like her carriage.
“Let us say half past two, but no later. It will take us an hour and a quarter and it begins to be dark at five. And when we are in Klampenborg we must naturally take a walk up to the Hermitage, if only to present my darlings to Ebba. Who these darlings are I shall not reveal for the moment. I hope that, even although his duties do not commence until tomorrow, Count Holk will join our party and make this sacrifice for an old friend.”
“And does your Highness desire any other company?”
“Only Countess Schimmelmann and Erichsen. Two carriages. I shall arrange the seating myself. Au revoir, my dear Holk. And if, as is your wont, you maintain an active correspondence …”
He smiled.
“Ah, I see that you have already written. Then it is too late for me to send my regards to the Countess. Your arm, my dear Ebba.”
And as she walked slowly towards the door, the two gentlemen-in-waiting bowed respectfully.
13
Punctually at two-thirty the carriages arrived, with their hoods down. Countess Schimmelmann took her seat next to the Princess, both ladies sitting opposite to Holk, while Fräulein von Rosenberg sat in the back of the second carriage facing Pentz and Erichsen.
Countess Schimmelmann, a woman in her forties, reminded one somewhat of Erichsen; like him, she was tall, lanky, and equally earnest; but while Erichsen’s gravity verged on solemnity, that of the countess verged on peevishness. In earlier days, she had been a court beauty, as her sparkling black eyes now and then recalled, but everything else had decayed into migraine and spleen. People spoke of an unhappy love affair. The general impression was of the Spanish court in the reign of Philip II, so that you found yourself involuntarily looking for the ruff round her neck. Apart from this, the countess was kind, full of spirit, and was distinguished from others at the court, to her great advantage, by being strongly opposed to any sort of gossip or médisance. She would tell people the truth to their faces and if she could not do so, she kept silent. She was not loved but greatly respected, as indeed she deserved to be.
Until they had left the town, not a word was spoken in the first carriage; Holk and the countess sat upright opposite each other while the Princess reclined in the back seat. So they drove through the Bredöster and Nyöster Streets towards the Österbroer suburbs and then came down to the coast road running along the sound. Holk was delighted at the scene: immediately to the left was a row of neat villas with their gardens still in flower, in spite of the signs of autumn, and, to the right, the wide expanse of almost completely calm water with the Swedish coast opposite and sailing-boats and steamers dotted here and there, on their way to Klampenborg and Skodsborg and as far north as Elsinore.
Holk would have examined this scene more closely had not the activity on the causeway along which they were driving not continually drawn his attention away from the landscape. Vehicles of all sorts were not only catching up with but overtaking the Princess who, when she was out for a drive, was not fond of hurrying. Thus there were continual meetings and recognitions on both sides. “That was Marstrand,” said the Princess. “And, if I saw aright, Worsaae beside him. He has never been known to fail to put in an appearance! What can he possibly want at de Meza’s banquet? De Meza is going to be fêted, not excavated! He’s still alive and not even the right size for a barrow-grave!” The Princess seemed disposed to embroider on this theme but was prevented by several officers’ approaching her carriage and driving level with her on both sides. Amongst them was Lieutenant-Colonel Tersling, our acquaintance from Vincent’s restaurant, a big handsome man with a markedly military bearing whom the Princess greeted with particular friendliness. He, on his part, inquired after her health.
“I am very well, especially on a day such as this. I hear that you and the other gentlemen are giving a banquet for de Meza and that has tempted me out. I want to be there.”
Tersling gave an embarrassed smile and the Princess, enjoying his discomfiture, continued after a pause: “Yes, to be there. But have no fear, my dear Tersling, I only want to be on the outskirts. If you toast the King or your guest of honour, I shall be in the Klampenborg Zoological Gardens with my dear countess here and Ebba Rosenberg, whom you will doubtless have already seen in the second carriage, and I shall rejoice to hear the cheers ringing out from honest Danish throats. And incidentally please give my greetings to de Meza and tell him that I am still living in the same place. I know that generals are hard to entice to court, and when they compete with Beethoven and compose symphonies, then it is quite hopeless. Meanwhile, if he hears from you that I still have pleasant memories of Idstedt, he may think it worthwhile to remember me. And now I will not keep you tied to my carriage.”
Tersling kissed the Princess’s hand and drove quickly on to make up for lost time. The Princess, however, turning to Holk, continued: “A handsome man, that Tersling; he was once a great dancer with princesses and a ladies’ man comme-il-faut, the sharpest tongue and the sharpest blade, too. Perhaps you still remember the duel he f
ought with Captain Dahlberg before 1848? Dahlberg escaped with a scratch on his neck but he was killed long ago at Fridericia. Pardon, dear Schimmelmann, for mentioning all this in your presence; I’ve just remembered that you were the cause of the duel. To be honest, I should like to know more about it, but not today, it’s a story for women’s ears only.”
Holk assured her of his discretion and said that he never listened to anything unless it was addressed to him directly. But the Princess was adamant and said: “No, nothing about that today. We must postpone it! And as for discretion, my dear Holk, that is a long and difficult story. I have been observing these things for fifty-five years now, because I made my début at the age of fifteen.”
“But surely your Royal Highness feels quite certain of the discretion of her suite?”
“No, thank God,” retorted the Princess, “and you cannot imagine how seriously I say that. Discretion à tout prix can, of course, exist but if only because it is so unconditional, it is frightful; it ought never to exist unconditionally. Particularly at a court, men and women need to develop a sense of tact as to what can and what cannot be said; but anyone who lacks this sense and merely says nothing all the time, is not only boring but dangerous. There is something inhuman about it because, after all, the most human attribute is speech and we are given it in order to be able to talk …. I know that where I’m concerned, I make an inordinate use of it, but I refuse to be ashamed; on the contrary, I’m delighted.”
In the second carriage, similar meetings and greetings were taking place; but the chief topic of conversation was Holk. Pentz wanted to hear from Fräulein von Rosenberg what she had thought of him at the audience that morning. Erichsen played no part in all these questions and answers but listened very attentively because he was very fond of this sort of badinage, all the more because he felt himself personally incapable of it.
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