CHAPTER XVIII. A MINOR CHORD AND A CHANGE OF MOVEMENT
Marshal Kampf, wrapt in his military cloak, with the peak of hiscap drawn over his eyes, sat on one of the rustic benches in thearchbishop's gardens and reflected. The archbishop had announced aninformal levee, the first since the king's illness. He had impressed theMarshal with the fact that his presence was both urgent and necessary.Disturbed as he was by the unusual command, the Marshal had arrived anhour too early. Since the prelate would not rise until nine, the Marshaltold the valet that he would wait in the gardens.
An informal levee, he mused. What was the meaning of it? Had that masterof craft and silence found a breach in the enemy's fortifications? Herubbed the chill from his nose, crossed and re-crossed his legs andteetered till the spurs on his boots set up a tuneful jingle.
So far as he himself was concerned, he was not worried. The prelate knewhis views and knew that he would stand or fall with them. He had neverlooked for benefits, as did those around him. He had offered what hehad without hope of reward, because he had considered it his duty. And,after all, what had the Osian done that he should be driven to thisignominious end? His motives never could be questioned; each act hadbeen in some way for the country's good. Every king is a usurper tothose who oppose him.
Would the kingdom be bettered in having a queen against whom theconfederation itself was opposed? Would it not be adding a twofoldburden to the one? The kingdom was at peace with those countriesfrom which it had most to fear. Was it wise to antagonize them? Smallindependent states were independent only by courtesy. Again, why hadAustria contrived to place an alien on the throne, in face of popularsentiment? Would Austria's interests have been less safe in the adventof rightful succession? Up to now, what had Austria gained by ignoringthe true house? Outwardly nothing, but below the surface? Who couldanswer?
For eleven years he had tried to discover the secret purpose of Austria,but, like others, he had failed; and the Austrian minister was lessdecipherable than the "Chinese puzzle." He was positive that none ofthe arch-conspirators knew; they were blinded by self-interest. And thearchbishop? The Marshal rubbed his nose again, not, however, becauseit was cold. Did any one know what was going on behind the smiling maskwhich the reticent prelate showed to the world? The Marshal poked hischin above his collar, and the wrinkles fell away from his gray eyes.
The sky was clear and brilliant, and a tonic from the forests sweetenedthe rushing air. The lake was ruffled out of its usual calm, and rolledand galloped along the distant shores and flashed on the golden sands.Above the patches of red and brown and yellow the hills and mountainsstood out in bold, decided lines.
Water fowl swept along the marshes. The doves in twos and threesfluttered down to the path, strutted about in their peculiarly awkwardfashion, and doubtfully eyed the silent gray figure on the bench, asif to question his right to be there this time of the morning, theirtrysting hour. Presently the whole flock came down, and began cooing andwaltzing at the Marshal's feet. He soon discovered the cause.
Her Royal Highness was coming through the opening in the hedgerow whichseparated the two confines. She carried a basket on her arm, and thebulldog followed at her heels, holding his injured leg in the air, andlimping on the remaining three. At the sight of her the doves rose andcircled above her head. She smiled and threw into the air handful afterhandful of cake and bread crumbs. In their eagerness the doves alightedon her shoulders, on the rim of the basket, and even on the broadback of the dog, who was too sober to give attention to this seemingindignity. He kept his eye on his mistress's skirts, moved when shemoved, and stopped when she stopped. A gray-white cloud enveloped them.
The Marshal, with a curious sensation in his heart, observed thisexquisite, living picture. He was childless; and though he was bynature undemonstrative, he was very fond of this youth. Her cheeks werescarlet, her rosy lips were parted in excitement, and her eyes glistenedwith pleasure. With all her twenty years, she was but ten in fancy;a woman, yet a child, unlettered in worldly wit, wise in her love ofnature. Not until she had thrown away the last of the crumbs did shenotice the Marshal. He rose and bowed.
"Good morning, your Highness. I am very much interested in your court.And do you hold it every morning?"
"Even when it rains," she said, smiling. "I am so glad to see you; Iwanted to talk to you last night, but I could not find the opportunity.Let me share the bench with you."
And youth and age sat down together. The bulldog planted himself in themiddle of the path and blinked at his sworn enemy. The Marshal had nolove for him, and he was well aware of it; at present, an armistice.
The princess gazed at the rollicking waters, at her doves, thence intothe inquiring gray eyes of the old soldier.
"Do you remember," she said, "how I used to climb on your knees, ever solong ago, and listen to your fairy stories?"
"Eh! And is it possible that your Highness remembers?" wrinkles ofdelight gathering in his cheeks. "But why `ever so long ago'? It was butyesterday. And your Highness remembers!"
"I am like my father; I never forget!" She looked toward the watersagain. "I can recall only one story. It was about a princess who lostall her friends through the offices of a wicked fairy. I remember itbecause it was the only story you told me that had a sad ending. It wasone of Andersen's. Her father and mother died, and the moment she wasleft alone her enemies set to work and toppled over her throne. She wascast out into the world, having no friend but a dog; but the dog alwaysfound something to eat, and protected her from giants and robbers andwolves.
"Many a time I thought of her, and cried because she was so unhappy.Well, she traveled from place to place, footsore and weary, but in herown country no one dared aid her, for fear of displeasing the wickedfairy, who at this time was all powerful. So she entered a strange land,where some peasants took her in, clothed and fed her, and gave her astaff and a flock of geese to tend. And day after day she guarded theflock, telling her sorrows to the dog, how she missed the dear ones andthe home of her childhood.
"One day the reigning prince of this strange land passed by whilehunting, and he saw the princess tending her geese. He made inquiries,and when he found that the beautiful goose-girl was a princess, heoffered to marry her. She consented to become his wife, because she wastoo delicate to drudge. So she and her dog went to live at the palace.Once she was married the dog behaved strangely, whining softly, andrefusing to be consoled. The prince was very kind to them both.
"Alas! It seems that when she left her own country the good fairy hadlost all track of her, to find her when it was too late. The dog was aprince under a wicked spell, and when the spell fell away the princessknew that she loved him, and not her husband. She pined away anddied. How many times I have thought of her, poor, lonely, fairy-taleprincess!"
The old soldier blinked at the doves, and there was a furrow between hiseyes. Yes; how well he remembered telling her that story. But, as sherepeated it, it was clothed with a strange significance. Somehow, hefound himself voiceless; he knew not how to reply.
"Monsieur," she said suddenly, "tell me, what has my poor father donethat these people should hate him and desire his ruin?"
"He has been kind to them, my child," his gaze still riveted on thedoves; "that is all. He has given them beautiful parks, he has made thema beautiful city. A king who thinks of his people's welfare is neverunderstood. And ignorant and ungrateful people always hate those to whomthey are under obligations. It is the way of the world."
"And--and you, Marshal?" timidly.
"And I?"
"Yes. They whisper that--that--O, Marshal, is it you who will forsakeus in our need? I have heard many things of late which were not intendedfor my ears. My father and I, we are so alone. I have never known thecomradeship of young people; I have never had that which youth longsfor--a confidant of my own age. The young people I know serve me simplyfor their own ends, and not because they love me.
"I have never spoken thus before to-day, save to this dog. He has bee
nmy confidant; but he can not speak except with his kind old eyes, and hecan not understand as I would have him. And they hate even him becausethey know that I love him. Poor dog!
"What my father has done has always been wrong in his own eyes, but hesinned for my sake, and God will forgive him. He gave up the home heloved for my sake. O, that I had known and understood! I was only six.We are so alone; we have no place to go, no friends save two, and theyare helpless. And now I am to make a sacrifice for him to repay him forall he has done for me. I have promised my hand to one I do not love;even he forsakes me. But love is not the portion of princesses. Love tothem is a fairy story. To secure my father's throne I have sacrificed mygirlhood dreams. Ah! and they were so sweet and dear."
She put a hand to her throat as if something had tightened there."Marshal, I beg of you to tell me the truth, the truth! Is my fatherdying? Is he? He--they will not tell me the truth. And I. .. never tohear his voice again! The truth, for pity's sake!" She caught at hishands and strove to read his eyes. "For pity's sake!"
He drew his breath deeply. He dared not look into her eyes for fear shemight see the tears in his; so he bent hastily and pressed her hands tohis lips. But in his heart he knew that his promise to the dead was gonewith the winds, and that he would shed the last drop of blood in hiswithered veins for the sake of this sad, lonely child.
"Your father, my child, will never stand up straight again," he said."As for the rest, that is in the hands of God. But I swear to you thatthis dried-up old heart beats only for you. I will stand or fall withyou, in good times or bad." And he rubbed his nose more fiercely thanever. "Had I a daughter--But there! I have none."
"My heart is breaking," she said, with a little sob. She sank back, herhead drooped to the arm of the bench, and she made no effort to stem theflood of tears. "I have no mother, and now my father is to leave me.And I love him so, I love him so! He has sacrificed all his happiness tosecure mine--in vain. I laugh and smile because he asks me to, and allthe while my heart is breaking, breaking."
At this juncture the doves rose hurriedly. The Marshal discovered thearchbishop's valet making toward him.
"Monsieur the Marshal, Monseigneur breakfasts and requests you to joinhim."
"Immediately;" and the Marshal rose. He placed his hand on the darkhead. "Keep up your heart, my child," he said, "and we shall see if Ihave grown too old for service." He squared his shoulders and followedthe valet, who viewed the scene with a valet's usual nonchalance. Whenthe Marshal reached the steps to the side entrance, he looked back. Thedog had taken his place, and the girl had buried her face in his neck. Amoment later the old soldier was ushered into the archbishop's presence,but neither with fear nor uneasiness in his heart.
"Ah! Good morning, Marshal," said the prelate. "Be seated. Did you notfind it chilly in the gardens?"
"Not the least. It is a fine day. I have just left her Royal Highness."
The prelate arched his eyebrows, and an interrogation shot out fromunder them.
"Yes," answered the observant soldier. "My heart has ever been hers;this time it is my hand and brain."
The prelate's egg spoon remained poised in mid-air; then it dropped witha clatter into the cup! But a moment gone he had held a sword in hishand; he was disarmed.
"I have promised to stand and fall with her."
"Stand and fall? Why not 'or'?" with a long, steadfast gaze.
"Did I say 'and'? Well, then," stolidly, "perhaps that is the word Imeant to use. If I do the one I shall certainly do the other."
The archbishop absently stirred his eggs.
"God is witness," said the Marshal, "I have always been honest."
"Yes."
"And neutral."
"Yes; honest and neutral."
"But a man, a lonely man like myself, can not always master the impulsesof the heart; and I have surrendered to mine."
The listener turned to some documents which lay beside the cup, andidly fingered them. "I am glad; I am very glad. I have alwayssecretly admired you; and to tell the truth, I have feared you most ofall--because you are honest."
The Marshal shifted his saber around and drew his knees together."I return the compliment," frankly. "I have never feared you; I havedistrusted you."
"And why distrusted?"
"Because Leopold of Osia would never have forsaken his birthright, norlooked toward a throne, had you not pointed the way and coveted thearchbishopric."
"I wished only to make him great;" but the prelate lowered his eyes.
"And share his greatness," was the shrewd rejoinder. "I am an oldman, and frankness in old age is pardonable. There are numbers ofdisinterested men in the world, but unfortunately they happen to bedead. O, I do not blame you; there is human nature in most of us. Butthe days of Richelieus and Mazarins are past. The Church is simply thechurch, and is no longer the power behind the throne. I have served thehouse of Auersperg for fifty years, that is to say, since I was sixteen;I had hoped to die in the service. Perhaps my own reason for distrustingyou has not been disinterested."
"Perhaps not."
"And as I now stand I shall die neither in the service of the house ofAuersperg nor of Osia. It is not the princess; it is the lonely girl."
"I need not tell you," said the prelate quietly, "that I am in Bleibergonly for that purpose. And since we are together, I will tell youthis: Madame the duchess will never sit upon this throne. To-day I ampractically regent, with full powers from his Majesty. I have summonedvon Wallenstein and Mollendorf for a purpose which I shall make known toyou." He held up two documents, and gently waving them: "These containthe dismissal of both gentlemen, together with my reasons. There werethree; one I shall now destroy because it has suddenly become void." Hetore it up, turned, and flung the pieces into the grate.
The Marshal glanced instinctively at his shoulder straps, and saw thatthey had come very near to oblivion.
"There is nothing more, Marshal," went on the prelate. "What I had tosay to you has slipped my mind. Under the change of circumstances, itmight embarrass you to meet von Wallenstein and Mollendorf. You havespoken frankly, and in justice to you I will return in kind. Yes, in theold days I was ambitious; but God has punished me through those I love.I shall leave to you the selection of a new Colonel of the cuirassiers."
"What! and Beauvais, too?" exclaimed the Marshal.
"Yes. My plans require it. I have formed a new cabinet, which will meetto-night at eight. I shall expect you to be present."
The two old men rose. Suddenly, a kindly smile broke through theaustereness of the prelate's countenance, and he thrust out his hand;the old soldier met it.
"Providence always watches over the innocent," said the prelate, "elsewe would have been still at war. Good morning."
The Marshal returned home, thoughtful and taciturn. What would be theend?
Ten minutes after the Marshal's departure, von Wallenstein andMollendorf entered the prelate's breakfast room.
"Good morning, Messieurs," said the churchman, the expression on hisface losing its softness, and the glint of triumph stealing intohis keen eyes. "I am acting on behalf of his Majesty this morning,"presenting a document to each. "Observe them carefully." He turned andleft the room. The archbishop had not only eaten a breakfast, he haddevoured a cabinet.
Count von Wallenstein watched the retreating figure of the prelate tillthe door closed behind it; then he smiled at Mollendorf, who had not thecourage to return it, and who stared at the parchment in his hand as ifit were possessed of basilisk eyes.
"Monseigneur," said the count, as he glanced through the contents ofthe document, "has forestalled me. Well, well; I do not begrudge him hislast card. He has played it; let us go."
"Perhaps," faltered Mollendorf, "he has played his first card. What areyou going to do?"
"Remain at home and wait. And I shall not have long to wait. The end isnear."
"Count, I tell you that the archbishop is not a man to play thus unlesssomething strong were behind him. You do
wrong not to fear him."
Von Wallenstein recalled the warning of the Colonel of the cuirassiers."Nevertheless, we are too strong to fear him."
"Monseigneur is in correspondence with Austria," said the minister ofpolice, quietly.
"You said nothing of this before," was the surprised reply.
"It was only this morning that I learned it."
The count's gaze roamed about the room, and finally rested on thecharred slips of paper in the grate. He shrugged.
"If he corresponds with Austria it is too late," he said. "Come, let usgo." He snapped his fingers in the air, and Mollendorf followed him fromthe room.
* * * * * *
The princess still remained on the rustic bench; her head was bowed, buther tears were dried.
"O, Bull," she whispered, "and you and I shall soon be all alone!"
A few doves fluttered about her; the hills flamed beneath the chillSeptember sky, the waters sang and laughed, but she saw not nor heard.