CHAPTER XIX. A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT
Maurice, who had wisely slept the larger part of the day, and amusedhimself at solitary billiards until dinner, came out on the terraceto smoke his after-dinner cigar. He watched the sun as, like a ball ofrusted brass, it slid down behind the hills, leaving the glowing embersof a smoldering day on the hilltops. The vermilion deepened into charredumber, and soon the west was a blackened grate; another day vanished inashes. The filmy golden pallor of twilight now blurred the landscape;the wind increased with a gayer, madder, keener touch; the lake wentbillowing in shadows of gray and black, and one by one the lamps of thecity sprang up, vivid as sparks from an anvil. Now and again the thin,clear music of the band drifted across from the park. The fountainglimmered in the Platz, the cafes began to glitter, carriages rolledhither and thither. The city had taken on its colorful night.
"Well, here's another day gone," he mused, rubbing his elbow, whichwas yet stiff. "I am anxious to know what that sinner is doing. Hashe pulled up stakes or has he stayed to get a whack at me? I hope he'sgone; he's a bad Indian, and if anything, he'll want my scalp in hisbelt before he goes. Hang it! It seems that I have poked my head intoevery bear trap in the kingdom. I may not get out of the next one. Howclever I was, to be sure! It all comes from loving the dramatic. I am adiplomat, but nobody would guess it at first sight. To talk to a man asI talked to him, and to threaten! He said I was young; I was, but I growolder every day. And the wise word now is, don't imitate the bull ofthe trestle," as he recalled an American cartoon which at that day washaving vogue in the American colony in Vienna.
"I like adventure, I know, but I'm going to give the Colonel a wideberth. If he sees me first, off the board I go. Where will he go--to theduchy? I trust not; we both can not settle in that territory; it's toosmall. And yet I am bound to go back; it is not my promise so much asit is my cursed curiosity. By George!" rubbing his elbow gently. "And tothink, Maurice, that you might not have witnessed this sunset but fora bit of fencing trickery. What a turn that picture of Inez gave me! Iknew him in a second--and like the ass I was, I told him so. And to meethim here, almost a left-handed king; no wonder I did not recognize him.
"I should like to come in on Fitzgerald to-night. His father must havehad a crazy streak in him somewhere. Four millions to throw away;humph! And who the deuce has those certificates?" He lolled againstthe parapet. "If I had four millions, and if Prince Frederick haddisappeared for good.... Why are things so jumbled up, at sixes andsevens? We are all human beings; why should some be placed higher thanothers? A prince is no better than I am, and may be not half so good.
"Sometimes I like to get up high somewhere and look down on every oneelse; every one else looks so small that it's comforting. The truephilosopher has no desire; he sits down and views the world as if hewere not a part of it. Perhaps it is best so. Yes, I would like fourmillions and a principality.... Heigho! how bracing the air is, and whata night for a ride! I've a mind to exercise Madame's horse. A long loneride on the opposite side of the lake, on the road to Italy; come, let'stry it. Better that than mope."
He mounted to the veranda, and for the first time he noticed thesuppressed excitement which lit the faces of those around him. Groupswere gathered here and there, talking, gesticulating, and flourishingthe evening papers. He moved toward the nearest group.
"The archbishop has dismissed the cabinet... crisis imminent."
"The Austrian minister has recalled his invitations to the embassyball."
"The archbishop will not be able to form another cabinet."
"Count von Wallenstein..."
"Mollendorf and Beauvais, too--"
"The king is dying... The archbishop has been given full powers."
"The army will revolt unless Beauvais is recalled."
"And the Marshal says here..."
Maurice waited to hear no more, but climbed through the window into theoffice.
"By George, something has happened since last night. I must have anevening paper." He found one, and read an elaborate account of what hadtaken place during the day. Von Wallenstein had been relieved of thefinance. Mollendorf of the police, Erzberg of foreign affairs, andBeauvais of his epaulettes. There remained only the archbishop, thechancellor and the Marshal. The editorial was virulent in its attack onthe archbishop, blustered and threatened, and predicted that the fallof the dynasty was but a matter of a few hours. For it asserted thatthe prelate could not form another cabinet, and without a cabinetthere could be no government. It was not possible for the archbishop toshoulder the burden alone; he must reinstate the ministry or fall.
"And this is the beginning of the end," said Maurice, throwing aside thepaper. "What will happen next? The old prelate is not a man to play tothe gallery. Has he found out the double dealing of Beauvais? That takesa burden off my shoulders--unless he goes at once to the duchy. But whywasn't the cabinet dismissed ages ago? It is now too late. And where isPrince Frederick to the rescue? There is something going on, and what itis only the archbishop knows. That smile of his! How will it end? I'dlike to see von Mitter, who seems to be a good gossip. And that poor,friendless, paralytic king! I say, but it makes the blood grow warm."
He left the chair and paced the office confines. Only one thing wentechoing through his brain, and that was he could do nothing. The soonerhe settled down in the attitude of a spectator the better for him.Besides, he was an official in the employ of a foreign country, andit would be the height of indiscretion to meddle, even in a privatecapacity. It would be to jeopardize his diplomatic career, and thatwould be ridiculous.
A porter touched him on the shoulder.
"A letter for your Excellency."
It was from the American minister in Vienna.
"My dear Carewe: I have a service to ask of you. The British minister isworried over the disappearance of a fellow-countryman, Lord Fitzgerald.He set out for Bleiberg, leaving instructions to look him up if nothingwas heard of him within a week. Two weeks have gone. Knowing you tobe in Bleiberg, I believed you might take the trouble to look into theaffair. The British ambassador hints at strange things, as if he fearedfoul play. I shall have urgent need of you by the first of October; ourcharge d'affaires is to return home on account of ill-health, and yourappointment to that office is a matter of a few days."
Maurice whistled. "That is good news; not Haine's illness, but that Ihave an excuse to meddle here. I'll telegraph at once. And I'll takethe ride besides." He went to his room and buckled on his spurs, andthoughtfully slipped his revolver into a pocket. "I am not going to takeany chances, even in the dark." Once again in the office, he steppedup to the desk and ordered his horse to be brought around to the cafeentrance.
"Certainly," said the clerk. Then in low tones "There has been a curiousexchange in saddles, Monsieur."
"Saddles?"
"Yes. The saddle in your stall is, curiously enough, stamped with thearms of the house of Auersperg. How that military saddle came into thestables is more than the grooms can solve."
"O," said Maurice, with an assumption of carelessness; "that is allright. It's the saddle I arrived on. The horse and saddle belong toMadame the duchess. I have been visiting at the Red Chateau. I shallreturn in the morning."
"Ah," said the clerk, with a furtive smile which Maurice lost; "thataccounts for the mystery."
"Here are two letters that must get in to-night's mails," Maurice said;"and also this telegram should be sent at once."
"As Monsieur desires. Ah, I came near forgetting. There is a note forMonsieur, which came this afternoon while Monsieur was asleep."
The envelope was unstamped, and the scrawl was unfamiliar to Maurice.On opening it he was surprised to find a hurriedly written note fromFitzgerald. In all probability it had been brought by the midnightcourier on his return from the duchy.
"In God's name, Maurice, why do you linger? To-morrow morning those consols must be here or they will be useless. Hasten; you know what it means to me.
Fitzgerald."
Maurice perused it twice, and pulled at his lips. "Madame becomesimpatient. Poor devil. Somebody is likely to become suddenly richand somebody correspondingly poor. What will they say when I returnempty-handed? Like as not Madame will accuse me--and Fitzgerald willbelieve her!... The archbishop! That accounts for this bold move. Andhow the deuce did he get hold of them? I give up." And his shoulderssettled in resignation.
He passed down into the cafe, from there to his horse, which a groom washolding at the curb. He swung into the saddle and tossed a coin to theman, who touched his cap.
The early moon lifted its silvery bulk above the ragged east, and thepatches of clouds which swarmed over the face of that white world ofsilence resembled so many rooks. Far away, at the farthermost shore ofthe lake, whenever the moon went free from the clouds, Maurice could seethe slim gray line of the road which stretched toward Italy.
"It's a fine night," he mused, glancing heavenward. The horse answeredthe touch of the spurs, and cantered away, glad enough to exchangethe close air of the stables for this fresh gift of the night. Mauriceguided him around the palaces into the avenue, which derived its namefrom the founder of the opera, in which most of the diplomatic familieslived. Past the residence of Beauvais he went, and, gazing up at thelightless windows, a cold of short duration seized his spine. It badbeen a hair's breadth betwixt him and death. "Your room, Colonel, isbetter than your company; and hereafter I shall endeavor to avoid both. Ishall feel that cursed blade of yours for weeks to come."
Carriages rolled past him. A gay throng in evening dress wascrowding into the opera. The huge placard announced, "Norma--Mlle.Lenormand--Royal Opera Troupe." How he would have liked to hear it, withLenormand in the title role. He laughed as he recalled the episodes inVienna which were associated with this queen of song. He waved hishand as the opera house sank in the distance. "Au revoir, Celeste, macharmante; adieu." By and by he reached the deserted part of the city,and in less than a quarter of an hour branched off into the broad roadbordering the lake. The horse quickened his gait as he felt the stoneof the streets no longer beneath his feet, which now fell with muffledrhythm on the sound earth. Maurice shared with him the delight of theopen country, and began to talk to the animal.
"A fine night, eh, old boy? I've ridden many backs, but none easier thanyours. This air is what gives the blood its color. Too bad; you oughtnot to belong to Madame. She will never think as much of you as Ishould."
The city was falling away behind, and a yellow vapor rose over it. Thelake tumbled in moonshine. Maurice took to dreaming again--hope and athousand stars, love and a thousand dreams.
"God knows I love her; but what's the use? We can not all have what wewant; let us make the best of what we have. Philosophy is a comfort onlyto old age. Why should youth bother to reason why? And I--I have not yetoutgrown youth. I believed I had, but I have not. I did not dream sheexisted, and now she is more to me than anything else in the world.Why; I wonder why? I look into a pair of brown eyes, and am seized withmadness. I hope. For what? O, Bucephalus! let us try to wake and leavethe dream behind. The gratitude of a princess and a dog... and for thisa rose. Well, it will prove the substance of many a pipe, many a kindlypipe. You miss a good deal, Bucephalus; smoking is an evil habit only tothose who have not learned to smoke."
The animal replied with a low whinney, and Maurice, believing thatthe horse had given an ear to his monologue, laughed. But he flatteredhimself. The horse whinneyed because he inhaled the faint odor of hiskind. He drew down on the rein and settled into a swinging trot, whichto Maurice's surprise was faster and easier than the canter. Theycovered a mile this way, when Maurice's roving eye discovered movingshadows, perhaps half a mile in advance.
"Hello! we're not the only ones jogging along. Eh, what's that?"Something flashed brightly, like silver reflecting moonlight; then camea spark of flame, which died immediately, and later Maurice caught anecho which resembled the bursting of a leaf against the lips. "Come;that looks like a pistol shot."
Again the flash of silver, broader and clearer this time; and Mauricecould now separate the shadow-shapes. A carriage of some sort rolledfrom side to side, and two smaller shadows followed its wild flight.One--two--three times Maurice saw the sparks and heard the faintreports. He became excited. Something extraordinary was taking place onthe lonely road. Suddenly the top of the carriage replied with spitefulflashes of red. Then the moon came out from behind the clouds, andthe picture was vividly outlined. Two continuous flashes of silver....Cuirassiers! Maurice loosened the rein, and the horse went forward assmoothly as a sail. The distance grew visibly less. The carriage openedfire again, and Maurice heard the sinister m-m-m of a bullet wingingpast him.
"The wrong man may get hit, Bucephalus," he said, bending to the neckof the horse; "which is not unusual. You're pulling them down, old boy;keep it up. There's trouble ahead, and since the cuirassiers are for theking, we'll stand by the cuirassiers."
On they flew, nearer and nearer, until the pistol shots were no longerechoes. Two other horsemen came into view, in advance of the carriage.Five minutes more of this exciting chase, and the faces took on linesand grew into features. Up, up crept the gallant little horse, his hoofsrattling against the road like snares on a drum. When within a dozenrods, Maurice saw one of the cuirassiers turn and level a revolver athim. Fortunately the horse swerved, and the ball went wide.
"Don't shoot!" Maurice yelled; "don't shoot!"
The face he saw was von Mitter's. His heart clogged in his throat, notat the danger which threatened him, but at the thought of what thatcarriage might contain.
A short time passed, during which nothing was heard but the strikingof galloping hoofs and the rumble of the carriage. Maurice soon drewabreast of von Mitter. There was a gash on the latter's cheek, and theblood from it dripped on his cuirass.
"Close for you, my friend," he gasped; when he recognized the newarrival. "Have you--God! my leg that time," with a groan.
For the fire of the carriage had spoken again, and true.
Maurice shut his teeth, drew his revolver, cocked it and applied thespurs. With a bound he shot past von Mitter, who was cursing deeply andtrying to reload. Maurice did not propose to waste powder on the driver,but was determined to bring down one of the carriage horses, whichwere marvelous brutes for speed. Scharfenstein kept popping away at thedriver, but without apparent result. Finally Maurice secured the desiredrange. He raised the revolver, rested the barrel between the left thumband forefinger and pressed the trigger. The nearest carriage horselurched to his knees, a bullet in his brain, dragging his mate with him.The race had come to an end.
At once the two horsemen in front separated; one continued toward thegreat forest, while the other took to the hills. Scharfenstein startedin pursuit of the latter. As for the carriage, it came to an abruptstand. The driver made a flying leap toward the lake, but stumbled andfell, and before he could regain his feet Maurice was off his horse andon his quarry. He caught the fellow by the throat and pressed him to theearth, kneeling on his chest.
"Hold him!" cried von Mitter, coming up with a limp, "hold him till Iknock in his head, damn him!"
"No, no!" said Maurice, "you can't get information out of a dead man."
"It's all up with me," groaned the Lieutenant. "I'll ask for mydischarge. I could hit nothing, my hand trembled. I was afraid ofshooting into the carriage."
Maurice turned his attention to the man beneath him. "Now, you devil,"he cried, "a clean breast of it, or off the board you go. O!" suddenlypeering down. "By the Lord, so it is you--you--you!" savagely bumpingthe fellow's head against the earth. "Spy!"
"You are killing me!"
"Small matter. Who is this fellow?" asked Maurice.
"Johann Kopf, a spy, a police rat, and God knows what else," answeredvon Mitter, limping toward the carriage. "Curse the leg!" He forcedthe door and peered inside. "Fainted! I thought as much." He lifted theinanimate bundle which lay huddled in between the seats
and carried itto the side of the road, where he tenderly laid it. He rubbed the girl'swrists, unmindful of the blood which fell from his face and left darkstains on her dress. "Thank God," heartily, "that her Royal Highness wassuffering from a headache. She would have died from fright."
Maurice felt the straining cords in the prisoner's neck grow limp. Therascal had fainted.
"Not her Highness?" Maurice asked, the weight of dread lifting from hisheart.
"No. Her Royal Highness sent Camille, her maid of honor, veiled anddressed like herself, to play an innocent jest on her old nurse. Someone shall account for this; for they mistook Camille for her Highness.I'm going to wade out into the water," von Mitter added, staggering tohis feet.
"You'll never get off your boot," said Maurice.
"I'll cut it off," was the reply, "I shall faint if I do not cool offthe leg. The ball is somewhere in the calf." And he waded out into thewater until it reached above his knees. Thus he stood for a moment, thenreturned to the maid, who, on opening her eyes, screamed. "It is allover, Camille," said the Lieutenant, throwing an arm about her.
"Your face is bleeding!" she cried, and sank back with her head againsthis broad breast.
As Maurice gazed at the pair he sighed. There were no obstacles here.
Soon Scharfenstein came loping down the hill alone.
"I killed his horse," he said, in response to queries, "but he fledinto the woods where I could not follow. A bad night for us, Carl, a badnight," swinging off his horse. "A boy would have done better work. Whomhave we here?"
"Kopf," said Maurice, "and he has a ball somewhere inside," holding up abloody hand.
"Kopf?" Scharfenstein cocked his revolver.
The maid of honor placed her hands over her ears and screamed again. Maxgazed at her, and, with a short, Homeric laugh, lowered the revolver.
"Any time will do," he said. "Ah, he opens his eyes."
The prisoner's eyes rolled wildly about. That frowning face above him...was it a vision? Who was it? What was he doing here?
"Who put you up to this?" demanded Maurice.
"You are choking me!"
"Who, I say?"
"Beauvais."
Scharfenstein and von Mitter looked at each other comprehensively.
"Who is this Beauvais? Speak!"
"I am dying, Herr... Your knees--"
Maurice withdrew his knees. "Beauvais; who is he?"
"Prince... Walmoden, formerly of the emperor's staff."
Johann's eyes closed again, and his head fell to one side.
"He looks as if he were done for," said Maurice, standing up. "Let usclear up the rubbish and hitch a horse to the carriage. The mate's allright."
Von Mitter assisted the maid into the carriage and seated her.
"Go and stay with her," said Maurice, brusquely; "you're half fainting."
"You are very handy, Carewe," said von Mitter gratefully, and he climbedin beside the maid, who, her fright gone, gave way to womanly instincts.She took her kerchief and wiped the Lieutenant's cheek, pressing hishand in hers the while.
Maurice and Scharfenstein worked away at the traces, and dragged thedead horse to the side of the road. Scharfenstein brought around vonMitter's horse, took oft the furnishings, and backed him into the pole.
Meanwhile the man lying by the water's edge showed signs of returninglife. He turned his head cautiously. His enemies were a dozen yards awayfrom him. Slowly he rolled over on his stomach, thence to his knees.They were paying no attention to him....
"Ho, there! the prisoner!" cried von Mitter, tumbling out of thecarriage. He tried to stand up, but a numbness seized his legs, and hesank to a sitting posture.
Maurice and Scharfenstein turned too late. Johann had mounted onScharfenstein's horse, and was flying away down the road. Maurice coollyleveled his revolver and sent two bullets after him. The second onecaused Johann to straighten stiffly, then to sink; but he hung on to thehorse.
"Hurry!" cried Maurice; "I've hit him and we'll find him along the roadsomewhere."
They lifted von Mitter into the carriage, wheeled it about, andScharfenstein mounted the box. Maurice sprang into his saddle, and theyclattered off toward the city.