The Puppet Crown by Harlod MacGrath (e book reader online TXT) 📖

felt that he was gazing on the culmination of youth, beauty, and elegance. . . Yes, Fitzgerald was right. To beggar one's self for love; honor and life, and all to the winds if only love remained.

Presently she straightened, and he centered his gaze on the back of the groom.

"Monsieur, place your hat upon your head," smiling. "We have entered the Strasse, and I should not like to embarrass you with the attention of the citizens."

He put on his hat. The impulse came to tell her all that he knew in regard to the kingdom's affairs; but his voice refused its offices. Besides, it was too late; the carriage was rolling into the Platz, and in a moment more it drew up before the terrace of the Continental Hotel. Maurice stepped out and bared his head.

"This evening, Monsieur, at nine, I shall expect to see you at the archbishop's reception to the corps diplomatique." A hand was extended toward him. He did not know what to do about it. "I am offering you my hand to kiss, Monsieur Carewe; it is a privilege which I do not extend to all."

As he touched it to his lips, he was sure that a thousand pairs of eyes were centered on him. The truth is, there were less than one hundred. It was the first time in many months that the Crown Princess had stopped before the Continental Hotel. To the guests it was an event; and some even went as far as to whisper that the handsome young man was Prince Frederick, incognito.

"God save your Royal Highness," said Maurice, at loss for other words. He released her hand and stepped back.

"Until this evening, then, Monsieur;" and the royal barouche rolled away.

"Who loves me, loves my dog," said Maurice, as he sped to his room.


CHAPTER XV


IN WHICH FORTUNE BECOMES CARELESS AND PRODIGAL

On the night prior to the arrival of Maurice in Bleiberg, there happened various things of moment.

At midnight the chancellor left the palace, after having witnessed from a window the meeting of the cuirassiers and the students, and sought his bed; but his sleep was burdened with troubled dreams. The clouds, lowering over his administration, thickened and darkened. How many times had he contemplated resigning his office, only to put aside the thought and toil on?

Defeat in the end was to be expected, but still there was ever that star of hope, a possible turn in affairs which would carry him on to victory. Victory is all the sweeter when it seems impossible. Prince Frederick had disappeared, no one knew where, the peasant girl theory could no longer be harbored, and the wedding was but three days hence. The Englishman had not stepped above the horizon, and the telegrams to the four ends of the world returned unanswered. Thus, the chancellor stood alone; the two main props were gone from under. As he tossed on his pillows he pondered over the apparent reticence and indifference of the archbishop.

All was still in the vicinity of the palaces. Sentinels paced noiselessly within the enclosures. In the royal bedchamber the king was resting quietly, and near by, on a lounge, the state physician dozed. The Captain of the household troop of cuirassiers nodded in the ante-room.

Only the archbishop remained awake. He sat in his chamber and wrote. Now and then he would moisten his lips with watered wine. Sometimes he held the pen in midair, and peered into the shapeless shadows cast by the tapers, his broad forehead shining and deep furrows between his eyes. On, on he wrote. Perhaps the archbishop was composing additional pages to his memoirs, for occasionally his thin lips relaxed into an impenetrable smile.

There was little quiet in the lower town, especially in the locality of the university. Old Stuler's was filled with smoke, students and tumult. Ill feeling ran high. There were many damaged heads, for the cuirassiers had not been niggard with their sabers.

A student walked backward and forward on the stage, waving wildly with his hands to command attention. It was some time before he succeeded.

"Fellow-students, brothers of freedom and comrades," he began. "All this must come to an end, and that at once. Our personal liberty is endangered. Our rights are being trodden under foot. Our ancient privileges are being laughed at. It must end." This declaration was greeted by shouts, sundry clattering of pewter lids and noisy rappings of earthenware on the tables. "Have we no rights as students? Must we give way to a handful of beggarly mercenaries? Must we submit to the outlawing of our customs and observances? What! We must not parade because the king does not like to be disturbed? And who are the cuirassiers?" Nobody answered. Nobody was expected to answer. "They are Frenchmen of hated memory-Swiss, Prussians, with Austrian officers. Are we or are we not an independent state? If independent, shall we stand by and see our personal liberties restricted? No! I say no!

"Let us petition to oust these vampires, who not only rob us of our innocent amusements, but who are fed by our taxes. What right had Austria to dictate our politics? What right had she to disavow the blood and give us these Osians? O, my brothers, where are the days of Albrecht III of glorious memory? He acknowledged our rights. He was our lawful sovereign. He understood and loved us." This burst of sentiment was slightly exaggerative, if the history of that monarch is to be relied on; but the audience was mightily pleased with this recollection. It served to add to their distemper and wrath against the Osian puppet. "And where are our own soldiers, the soldiers of the kingdom? Moldering away in the barracks, unnoticed and forgotten. For the first time in the history of the country foreigners patrol the palaces. Our soldiers are nobodies. They hold no office at court save that of Marshal, and his voice is naught. Yet the brunt of the soldier's life falls on them. They watch at the frontiers, tireless and vigilant, while the mercenaries riot and play. Brothers, the time has come for us to act. The army is with us, and so are the citizens. Let ours be the glory of touching the match. We are brave and competent. We are drilled. We lack not courage. Let us secretly arm and watch for the opportunity to strike a blow for our rights. Confusion to the Osians, and may the duchess soon come into her own!"

He jumped from the stage, and another took his place; the haranguing went on. The orators were serious and earnest; they believed themselves to be patriots, pure and simple, when in truth they were experiencing the same spirit of revolt as the boy whose mother had whipped him for making an unnecessary noise, or stealing into the buttery.

While the excitement was at its height, a man, somewhat older than the majority of the students, entered the bar-room from the street, and lounged heavily against the railing. His clothes were soiled and wrinkled, blue circles shadowed his eyes, which were of dull jet, the corners of his mouth drooped dejectedly, and his oily face, covered with red stubble, gave evidences of a prolonged debauch.

"Wine, Stuler, wine!" he called, laying down a coin, which gleamed dimly yellow in the opalescent light. "And none of your devilish vinegars and scums."

Stuler pounced on the coin and rubbed it between his palms. "Gold, Johann, gold?"

"Aye, gold; and the last of a pocketful, curse it! What's this noise about?" with a gesture, toward the hall.

"The boys were in the Platz and had a brush with those damned cuirassiers. They'll play a harder game yet." Stuler always took sides with the students, on business principles; they constituted his purse. "Tokayer?"

"No; champagne. Aye, these damned cuirassiers shall play a hard game ere the week is done, or my name is not Johann Kopf. They kicked me out of the palace grounds yesterday; me, me, me!" hammering the oak with his fist.

"Who?"

"Von Mitter, the English-bred dog! I'll kill him one of these days. Is it play to-night, or are they serious?" nodding again toward the hall.

"Go in," said Stuler, "and look at some of those heads; a look will answer the purpose."

Johann followed this advice. The picture he saw was one which agreed with the idea that had come into his mind. He returned to the bar-room. and drank his wine thirstily, refilled the glass and emptied it. Stuler shook his head. Johann was in a bad way when he gulped wine instead of sipping it. Yet it was always so after a carouse.

"Where have you been keeping yourself the past week?" he asked. If the students were his purse, Johann was his budget of news.

"You ask that?" surlily. "You knew I had money; you knew that I was off somewhere spending it-God knows where, I don't. Another bottle of wine. There's enough left from the gold to pay for it."

Stuler complied. Johann's thirst seemed in no way assuaged; but soon the sullen expression, the aftermath of his spree, was replaced by one of reckless jollity. His eyes began to sparkle.

"A great game, Stuler; they're playing a great game, and you and I will be in at the reaping. The town is quiet, you say? The troops have ceased murmuring, eh? A lull that comes before the storm. And when it breaks-and break it will!-gay times for you and me. There will be sacking. I have the list of those who lean toward the Osians. There will be loot, old war dog!"

Stuler smiled indulgently; Johann was beginning to feel the wine. Perhaps he was to learn something. "Yes, 'twill be a glorious day."

"A week hence, and the king goes forth a bankrupt."

"If he lives," judiciously.

"Dead or alive, it matters not which; he goes."

"And the wedding? What is it I hear about Prince Frederick and the peasant girl?"

Johann laughed. "There will be no wedding."

"And the princess?"

"A pretty morsel, a tidbit for the king that is to be."

"The king that-eh, Johann, are you getting drunk so soon?" Stuler exclaimed. "I know of no king-"

Johann reached over and caught the innkeeper's wrist. The grasp was no gentle one. "Listen, that was a slip of the tongue. Repeat it, and that for your life! Do you understand, my friend?"

"Gott in-"

"Do you understand?" fiercely.

"Yes, yes!" Stuler wiped his face with his apron.

"Good, if you understand. It was naught but a slip of the tongue," nonchalantly. "In a little week, my friend, your till will have no vulgar silver in it; gold, yellow gold."

"And the duchess?" with hesitance. The budget of news to-night was not of the usual kind.

Johann did not answer, save by a shrug.

The perturbation of the old man was so manifestly beyond control that he could not trust his legs. He dropped on the stool, giving his grizzled head a negative shake. "I would that you had made no slip of the tongue, Johann," he murmured. "Gott, what is going on? The princess was not to wed, to be sure, but the duchess passed -a king besides-"

"Silence!" enjoined Johann. "Stuler, I am about to venture on a daring enterprise, which, if successful, will mean plenty of gold. Come with me into your private office, where we shall not be interrupted nor overheard." He vaulted the bar. Stuler looked undecided. "Come!" commanded Johann. With another shake of