The Puppet Crown, Harlod MacGrath [best new books to read .TXT] 📗

steadfast gaze.

"Did I say 'and'? Well, then," stolidly, "perhaps that is the word I meant 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 impulses of the heart; and I have surrendered to mine."

The listener turned to some documents which lay beside the cup, and idly fingered them. "I am glad; I am very glad. I have always secretly admired you; and to tell the truth, I have feared you most of all-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 have distrusted you."

"And why distrusted?"

"Because Leopold of Osia would never have forsaken his birthright, nor looked toward a throne, had you not pointed the way and coveted the archbishopric."

"I wished only to make him great;" but the prelate lowered his eyes.

"And share his greatness," was the shrewd rejoinder. "I am an old man, and frankness in old age is pardonable. There are numbers of disinterested men in the world, but unfortunately they happen to be dead. O, I do not blame you; there is human nature in most of us. But the days of Richelieus and Mazarins are past. The Church is simply the church, and is no longer the power behind the throne. I have served the house 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 distrusting you has not been disinterested."

"Perhaps not."

"And as I now stand I shall die neither in the service of the house of Auersperg 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 Bleiberg only for that purpose. And since we are together, I will tell you this: Madame the duchess will never sit upon this throne. To-day I am practically regent, with full powers from his Majesty. I have summoned von Wallenstein and Mollendorf for a purpose which I shall make known to you." He held up two documents, and gently waving them: "These contain the dismissal of both gentlemen, together with my reasons. There were three; one I shall now destroy because it has suddenly become void." He tore it up, turned, and flung the pieces into the grate.

The Marshal glanced instinctively at his shoulder straps, and saw that they had come very near to oblivion.

"There is nothing more, Marshal," went on the prelate. "What I had to say to you has slipped my mind. Under the change of circumstances, it might embarrass you to meet von Wallenstein and Mollendorf. You have spoken frankly, and in justice to you I will return in kind. Yes, in the old 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 meet to-night at eight. I shall expect you to be present."

The two old men rose. Suddenly, a kindly smile broke through the austereness 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, "else we would have been still at war. Good morning."

The Marshal returned home, thoughtful and taciturn. What would be the end?

Ten minutes after the Marshal's departure, von Wallenstein and Mollendorf entered the prelate's breakfast room.

"Good morning, Messieurs," said the churchman, the expression on his face losing its softness, and the glint of triumph stealing into his keen eyes. "I am acting on behalf of his Majesty this morning," presenting a document to each. "Observe them carefully." He turned and left the room. The archbishop had not only eaten a breakfast, he had devoured a cabinet.

Count von Wallenstein watched the retreating figure of the prelate till the door closed behind it; then he smiled at Mollendorf, who had not the courage to return it, and who stared at the parchment in his hand as if it were possessed of basilisk eyes.

"Monseigneur," said the count, as he glanced through the contents of the document, "has forestalled me. Well, well; I do not begrudge him his last card. He has played it; let us go."

"Perhaps," faltered Mollendorf, "he has played his first card. What are you going to do?"

"Remain at home and wait. And I shall not have long to wait. The end is near."

"Count, I tell you that the archbishop is not a man to play thus unless something 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 of police, 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 the charred slips of paper in the grate. He shrugged.

"If he corresponds with Austria it is too late," he said. "Come, let us go." He snapped his fingers in the air, and Mollendorf followed him from the room.


* * * * * *


The princess still remained on the rustic bench; her head was bowed, but her 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 chill September sky, the waters sang and laughed, but she saw not nor heard.


CHAPTER XIX


A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT

Maurice, who had wisely slept the larger part of the day, and amused himself at solitary billiards until dinner, came out on the terrace to smoke his after-dinner cigar. He watched the sun as, like a ball of rusted brass, it slid down behind the hills, leaving the glowing embers of a smoldering day on the hilltops. The vermilion deepened into charred umber, and soon the west was a blackened grate; another day vanished in ashes. The filmy golden pallor of twilight now blurred the landscape; the wind increased with a gayer, madder, keener touch; the lake went billowing in shadows of gray and black, and one by one the lamps of the city sprang up, vivid as sparks from an anvil. Now and again the thin, clear music of the band drifted across from the park. The fountain glimmered in the Platz, the cafes began to glitter, carriages rolled hither and thither. The city had taken on its colorful night.

"Well, here's another day gone," he mused, rubbing his elbow, which was yet stiff. "I am anxious to know what that sinner is doing. Has he pulled up stakes or has he stayed to get a whack at me? I hope he's gone; he's a bad Indian, and if anything, he'll want my scalp in his belt before he goes. Hang it! It seems that I have poked my head into every bear trap in the kingdom. I may not get out of the next one. How clever I was, to be sure! It all comes from loving the dramatic. I am a diplomat, but nobody would guess it at first sight. To talk to a man as I talked to him, and to threaten! He said I was young; I was, but I grow older every day. And the wise word now is, don't imitate the bull of the trestle," as he recalled an American cartoon which at that day was having vogue in the American colony in Vienna.

"I like adventure, I know, but I'm going to give the Colonel a wide berth. If he sees me first, off the board I go. Where will he go-to the duchy? I trust not; we both can not settle in that territory; it's too small. And yet I am bound to go back; it is not my promise so much as it is my cursed curiosity. By George!" rubbing his elbow gently. "And to think, Maurice, that you might not have witnessed this sunset but for a bit of fencing trickery. What a turn that picture of Inez gave me! I knew him in a second-and like the ass I was, I told him so. And to meet him 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 have had a crazy streak in him somewhere. Four millions to throw away; humph! And who the deuce has those certificates?" He lolled against the parapet. "If I had four millions, and if Prince Frederick had disappeared for good. . . . Why are things so jumbled up, at sixes and sevens? We are all human beings; why should some be placed higher than others? 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 one else; every one else looks so small that it's comforting. The true philosopher has no desire; he sits down and views the world as if he were not a part of it. Perhaps it is best so. Yes, I would like four millions and a principality. . . . Heigho! how bracing the air is, and what a night for a ride! I've a mind to exercise Madame's horse. A long lone ride on the opposite side of the lake, on the road to Italy; come, let's try it. Better that than mope."

He mounted to the veranda, and for the first time he noticed the suppressed excitement which lit the faces of those around him. Groups were gathered here and there, talking, gesticulating, and flourishing the 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 embassy ball."

"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 the office.

"By George, something has happened since last night. I must have an evening paper." He found one, and read an elaborate account of what had taken place during the day. Von Wallenstein had been relieved of the finance. Mollendorf of the police, Erzberg of foreign affairs, and Beauvais of his epaulettes. There remained only the archbishop, the chancellor and the Marshal. The editorial was virulent in its attack on the archbishop, blustered and threatened, and predicted that the fall of the dynasty was but a matter of a few hours. For it asserted that the prelate could not form another cabinet, and without a cabinet there could be no government. It was not possible for the archbishop to shoulder the burden alone; he must reinstate the ministry or