CHAPTER VIII. THE LETTER
The Countess Loschek was alone. Alone and storming. She had sent hermaid away with a sharp word, and now she was pacing the floor.
Hedwig, of all people!
She hated her. She had always hated her. For her youth, first; later,when she saw how things were going, for the accident that had made her agranddaughter to the King.
And Karl.
Even this last June, when Karl had made his looked-for visit to thesummer palace where the Court had been in, residence, he had already hadthe thing in mind. Even when his arms had been about her, Olga Loschek,he had been looking over her shoulder, as it were, at Hedwig. He had hadit all in his wicked head, even then. For Karl was wicked. None wouldknow it better than she, who was risking everything, life itself, forhim. Wicked; ungrateful, and unscrupulous. She loathed him while sheloved him.
The thing would happen. This was the way things were done in Courts.An intimation from one side that a certain thing would be agreeableand profitable. A discussion behind closed doors. A reply that theintimation had been well received. Then the formal proposal, and itsacceptance.
Hedwig would marry Karl. She might be troublesome, would indeed almostcertainly be troublesome. Strangely enough, the Countess hated her themore for that. To value so lightly the thing for which Olga Loschekwould have given her soul, this in itself was hateful. But there wasmore. The Countess saw much with her curiously wide, almost childishlybland eyes; it was only now that it occurred to her to turn what sheknew of Hedwig and Nikky to account.
She stopped pacing the floor, and sat down. Suppose Hedwig and NikkyLarisch went away together? Hedwig, she felt, would have the courageeven for that. That would stop things. But Hedwig did not trust her. Andthere was about Nikky a dog-like quality of devotion, which warned herthat, the deeper his love for Hedwig, the more unlikely he would be tobring her to disgrace. Nikky might be difficult.
"The fool!" said the Countess, between her clenched teeth. To both theArchduchess Annunciata and her henchwoman, people were chiefly dividedinto three classes, fools, knaves, and themselves.
She must try for Hedwig's confidence, then. But Karl! How to reach him?Not with reproaches, not with anger. She knew her man well. To hold himoff was the first thing. To postpone the formal proposal, and gaintime. If the Chancellor had been right, and things were as bad as theyappeared, the King's death would precipitate a crisis. Might, indeed,overturn the throne.
And Karl had changed. The old days when he loved trouble were gone. Histhoughts, like all thoughts these days, she reflected contemptuously,were turned to peace, not to war. He was for beating his swords intoploughshares, with a vengeance.
To hold him off, then. To gain time.
The King was very feeble. This affair of yesterday had told on him. Thegossip of the Court was that the day had seen a change for the worse.His heart was centered on the Crown Prince.
Ah, here was another viewpoint. Suppose the Crown Prince had not comeback? What would happen, with the King dead, and no king? Chaos, ofcourse. A free hand to revolution. Hedwig fighting for her throne, andinevitably losing it. Then what about Karl and his dreams of peace?
But that was further than she cared to go just then. She would finishcertain work that she had set out to do, and then she was through. Nolonger would dread and terror grip her in the night hours.
But she would finish. Karl should never say she had failed him. In hernew rage against him she was for cleaning the slate at once. She hadin her possession papers for which he waited or pretended to wait;data secured by means she did not care to remember; plans and figurescarefully compiled--a thousand deaths in one, if, they were found onher. She would get them out of her hands at once.
It was still but little after five. She brought her papers together onher small mahogany desk, from such hiding places as women know--thelinings of perfumed sachets, the toes of small slippers, the secretpocket in a muff; and having locked her doors, put them in order. Herhands were trembling, but she worked skillfully. She was free until thedinner hour, but she had a great deal to do. The papers in order, shewent to a panel in the wall of her dressing-room; and, sliding it aside,revealed the safe in which her jewels were kept. Not that her jewelswere very valuable, but the safe was there, and she used it.
The palace, for that matter, was full of cunningly contrivedhiding-places. Some, in times of stress, had held jewels. Others--roomsthese, built in the stone walls and carefully mapped--had held evenroyal refugees themselves. The map was in the King's possession, anddescended from father to son, a curious old paper, with two of thehidden rooms marked off in colored inks as closed. Closed, with strangesecrets beyond, quite certainly.
The Countess took out a jewel-case, emptied it, lifted its chamoiscushions, and took out a small book. It was an indifferent hiding-place,but long immunity had made her careless. Referring to the book, shewrote a letter in code. It was, to all appearances a friendly letterreferring to a family in her native town, and asking that the recipientsee that assistance be sent them before Thursday of the following week.The assistance was specified with much detail--at her expense to sendso many blankets, so many loaves of bread, a long list. Having finished,she destroyed, by burning, a number of papers watching until thelast ash had turned from dull red to smoking gray. The code-book shehesitated over, but at last, with a shrug of her shoulders, she returnedit to its hiding-place in the jewel case.
Coupled with her bitterness was a sense of relief. Only when the paperswere destroyed had she realized the weight they had been. She summonedMinna, her maid, and dressed for the street. Then, Minna accompanyingher, she summoned her carriage and went shopping.
She reached the palace again in time to dress for dinner. Somewhere onthat excursion she had left the letter, to be sent to its destinationover the border by special messenger that night.
Prince Ferdinand William Otto, at the moment of her return, waspreparing for bed. At a quarter to seven he had risen, bowed to MissBraithwaite, said good-night, and disappeared toward his bedroom and hiswaiting valet. But a moment later he reappeared.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I think your watch is fast."
Miss Braithwaite consulted it. Then, rising she went to the window andcompared at with the moonlike face of the cathedral clock.
"There is a difference of five minutes," she conceded. "But I have noconfidence in the cathedral clock. It needs oiling, probably. Besides,there are always pigeons sitting on the hands."
"May I wait for five minutes?"
"What could you do in five minutes?"
"Well," he suggested, rather pleadingly, "we might have a littleconversation, if you axe not too tired."
Miss Braithwaite sighed. It had been a long day and not a calm one, andconversation with His Highness meant questions, mostly.
"Very well," she said.
"I'm not at all sleepy," Prince Ferdinand William Otto observed,climbing on a chair. "I thought you might tell me about America. I'mawfully curious about America."
"I suppose you mean the United States."
"I'm not sure. It has New York, in it, anyhow. They don't have kings, dothey?"
"No," said Miss Braithwaite, shortly. She hated republics.
"What I wondered was," said Ferdinand William Otto, swinging hislegs, "how they managed without a king. Who tells them what to do? I'minterested, because I met a boy yesterday who came from there, and hetalked quite a lot about it. He was a very interesting boy."
Miss Braithwaite waived the matter of yesterday. "In a republic," shesaid, "the people think they can govern themselves. But they do itvery badly. The average intelligence among people in the mass is alwaysrather low."
"He said," went on His Royal Highness, pursuing a line of thought, "thatthe greatest man in the world was a man named Lincoln. But that heis dead. And he said that kings were nuisances, and didn't earn theirbread-and-butter. Of course," Otto hastened to explain, "he didn't knowthat my grandfather is a king. After that, I didn't e
xactly like to tellhim. It would have made him very uncomfortable." Here he yawned, butcovered it with a polite hand, and Oskar, his valet, came to the doorwayand stood waiting. He was a dignified person in a plum-colored livery,because the King considered black gloomy for a child.
The Crown Prince slipped to the floor, and stood with his feet ratherwide apart, looking steadfastly at Miss Braithwaite. "I would like verymuch to see that boy again," he observed. "He was a nice boy, and verykind-hearted. If we could go to the Scenic Railway when we are out inthe carriage, I--I'd enjoy it." He saw refusal in her face, for he addedhurriedly, "Not to ride. I just want to look at it."
Miss Braithwaite was touched, but firm. She explained that it would bebetter if the Crown Prince did not see the boy again; and to softenthe refusal, she reminded him that the American child did not likeroyalties, and that even to wave from his carriage with the gold wheelswould therefore be a tactical error.
Prince Ferdinand William Otto listened, and Oskar waited. And somethingthat had been joyous and singing in a small boy's heart was suddenlystill.
"I had forgotten about that," he said.
Then Miss Braithwaite rose, and the Prince put his heels together with aclick, and bowed, as he had been taught to do.
"Good-night," he said.
"Good-night, Your Highness," replied Miss Braithwaite.
At the door Prince Ferdinand William Otto turned and bowed again. Thenhe went out, and the door closed behind him.
He washed himself, with Oskar standing by, holding a great soft towel.Even the towels were too large. And he brushed his teeth, and had twodrinks of water, because a stiffish feeling in his throat persisted.And at last he crawled up into the high bed that was so much too big forhim, and had to crawl out again, because he had forgotten his prayers.
When everything was done, and the hour of putting out the light couldno longer be delayed, he said goodnight to Oskar, who bowed. There wasa great deal of, bowing in Otto's world. Then, whisk! it was dark, withonly the moon face of the cathedral clock for company. And as it was nowtwenty minutes past seven, the two hands drooped until it looked like aface with a cruel mouth and was really very poor company.
Oskar, having bowed himself into the corridor and past the two sentries,reported to a very great dignitary across the hall that His RoyalHighness the Crown Prince Ferdinand William Otto was in bed. And thedignitary had a chance to go away and get his dinner.
But alone in his great bed, the Crown Prince was shedding a fewshamefaced tears. He was extremely ashamed of them. He felt that underno circumstances would his soldier father have behaved so. He reachedout and secured one of the two clean folded handkerchiefs that werealways placed on the bedside stand at night, and blew his nose veryloudly. But he could not sleep.
He gave Miss Braithwaite time to go to her sitting-room, and for eighto'clock to pass, because once every hour, all night, a young gentlemanof the Court, appointed for this purpose and dubbed a "wet-nurse" byjealous comrades, cautiously opened his door and made a stealthy circuitof the room, to see that all was well.
The Crown Prince got up. He neglected to put on his bedroom slippers,of course, and in his bare feet be padded across the room to the studydoor. It was not entirely dark. A night-light burned there. It stood ona table directly under the two crossed swords. Beneath the swords, in aburnt-wood frame, were the pictures of his father and mother. Hedwig hadgiven him a wood-burning outfit at Christmas, and he had done the workhimself. It consisted of the royal arms, somewhat out of drawing andnot exactly in the center of the frame, and a floral border of daisies,extremely geometrical, because he had drawn them in first with acompass.
The boy, however, gave the pictures only a hasty glance and proceeded,in a business-like manner, to carry a straight chair to the cabinet. Onthe top shelf sat the old cloth dog. Its shoe-button eyes looked glazedwith sleep, but its ears were quite alert. Very cautiously the CrownPrince unlocked the door, stepped precariously to the lower shelf of thecabinet, hung there by one royal hand, and lifted the dog down.
At nine o'clock the wet-nurse took off his sword in another room andleaned it against a chair. Then he examined his revolver, in accordancewith a formula prescribed by the old King. Then he went in andexamined the room with a flashlight, and listened to the Crown Prince'sbreathing. He had been a croupy baby. And, at last, he turned theflashlight on to the bed. A pair of shoe-button eyes stared at him fromthe pillow.
"Well, I'm damned," said the wet-nurse And went out, looking thoughtful.