Part 4

“Well; you have in reality only one day--your little span of life in the stretch of eternity. You must do the best you can with it; you won’t get another. You must enjoy it; you will never have a chance to enjoy another. You must be happy and contented and useful in it; to-morrow you vanish. And you tell me you’re going to spend it with a man you don’t love, spend it in this cold, empty, silly life of kissing hands and bowing and strutting, of vanity and gilt. What a life--what a miserable, degrading death-in-life!”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, with a suggestion of haughtiness or attempt at haughtiness.

“Well, do you? There you sit--young, beautiful, a woman with love and passion in her eyes, a woman to be loved, to be happy, and to make others happy. And you think yourself superior--you who propose to spend your life in a way that--I’d hate to characterize it. Why did God give you beauty and brains and a common-sense education? Why did He bring you into the world a queen--not a toy queen, not a figurehead of a ‘house,’ but a real, royal queen--queen by the true, divine right? In order that you should act like a slave? That you should be dazzled by spangles like a vulgar peasant--play all your life with puppets like a child--be a puppet?”

“Why do you say these things to me?” She looked at him sadly, all the haughtiness gone from her face and voice.

“Because I love you; that is why. Because I know--it is useless for you to deny it--that you would like to love me--if you dared.”

Her bosom rose and fell rapidly. “Is it true?” she said, looking at him with a thirsty longing in her eyes. “Do you?”

“What does it matter?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I not only love you but I would win you, if you had--”

“Had what? Say it!”

“Courage!”

Both were silent a long time. He laughed bitterly, and said: “When I was a boy there used to be in one of our school-books the story of a man who went down in a shipwreck because he would not give up the bag of gold that was strapped to him. There was a silly moral; I forget it. But how human what he did was! How many human beings there are who drown their real selves because they won’t cut away some dead weight of false pride or false glory or gold or conventionality--” He rose abruptly. “Let us go.”

“And I am dragging you down into my unhappiness because I won’t throw away my dead weight.”

“That is not for you to consider. Your own case is quite enough.”

“Yes; I lack courage, or I am too foolish.”

“I don’t blame you; don’t think that I do. You’d probably be unhappy after you’d given up. I’ve thought of that. If I hadn’t, I’d--”

“What?”

“Carry you off.”

“Why don’t you?” She stood before him, looking eagerly up into his face. “I wish to have my mind made up for me.”

“Not I! You must decide for yourself.” He stood very close to her. “But--how I love you! Not because you are a Traubenheim instead of only a Traubenheimer; not for the reasons that seem to count most with you; but just for the sake of your wonderful self that has dazzled me into this folly of loving you, dear--”

“Yes; go on,” she murmured.

There was the clatter of many hoofs on the main road; they were only a few yards from it. A brilliant cavalcade swept by; a young man in a gaudy field-marshal’s uniform, followed by a dozen officers in blue and white, with glittering helmets and cuirasses; after them several companies of the Household Guards.

“My cousin,” she murmured.

From the direction of The Castle came the booming of cannon and then the strains of a military band. Frederick and Erica stood, neither looking at the other. He began to walk towards the main road and she reluctantly followed him.

“Good-bye,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Good-bye,” she said. “That is--until to-morrow. You will come here at four--”

There was the sound of a horse at a gallop and soon round the bend of the road swept the young man in the field-marshal’s uniform. He looked a giant, in his tall helmet surmounted by three huge white plumes. He reined his horse near Grafton and Erica, and flung himself from the saddle. Grafton saw that he was not tall, but short; not broad, but narrow--that his imposing appearance had been due wholly to his uniform. Also it was apparent that he was in a fury. Leaving the horse, he stalked towards them, his sword clanking against his spurs. Erica was pale and nervous. If Grafton had been looking at her he would have seen that she watched her cousin with an expression of aversion.

Aloyse stepped on a loose stone and it slipped. His sword swung round and caught between his short legs. He tripped, toppled, plunged forward and, as his helmet flew off, his face ploughed into the dust. He was lying prostrate at Erica’s feet.

Grafton sprang to him and lifted him up and set him on his legs. “I hope you’re not hurt?” he said, with perfect self-control.

Aloyse’s hair, mustache, eyes, and mouth were full of dust, his uniform was coated with it. “Go to the devil!” he exclaimed, turning his back on Grafton and wiping his face with a handkerchief he drew from his sleeve. “Who is this person?” he demanded of Erica, in German. “And what are you doing here? I saw you hiding in the woods as I came by.” He spoke to her as if she were his property, and anger flamed in her cheeks and sparkled in her eyes.

“Try to seem a gentleman,” she whispered to him, in German. Then she turned to Grafton. “Mr. Grafton,” she said, in English, “my cousin, the Inheriting Grand Duke.”

Grafton bowed coldly. Aloyse looked at him insolently from head to foot. “Take yourself off,” he said.

Grafton’s eyes blazed. He put out his hand to Erica. “I shall see you at luncheon to-morrow.” As Erica was about to shake hands with him, Aloyse struck his hand up.

“None of your impertinence. Be off!” he said, his weak, blond face ridiculous with rage and dust.

Grafton brought his hand down on Aloyse’s shoulder and closed his fingers. Aloyse shivered, winced, bit his lips till the blood came to crush back a howl of pain. Grafton set him to one side and released him. Then he shook hands with Erica, lifted his hat, and walked away. Aloyse and Erica stood looking after him.

“I _hate_ him,” thought Aloyse.

“I _love_ him,” thought Erica.

VI

Her Serene Highness Surrenders

At ten the next morning there was excitement in the hotel--the Inheriting Grand Duke had come, had sent up his card to the American gentleman, and the American gentleman, instead of descending, had told the servant to “show him up.” The Inheriting Grand Duke was in top-hat and long coat. He was looking insignificant, sheepish, and surly.

When Grafton’s sitting-room door was closed behind him, he bowed stiffly and said, “At the command of His Royal Highness, I have come to apologize to you.”

Grafton waved his hand. “Say no more about it. I thought your father wouldn’t approve of such a performance. I regret, for your sake, that you didn’t come on your own account. Is that all?”

“At the command of His Royal Highness I say that we shall be pleased to see you at luncheon.”

“Tell your father I’ll be there.” Grafton looked significantly at the door.

“On my own account, I say that, after you have finished your affair with His Royal Highness, I have a matter which one of my officers, Prince von Moltzahn, will bring to your attention.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“And I may assure His Royal Highness that you will be at luncheon?”

“Yes. Good-morning.”

Aloyse bowed stiffly, and pompously left the room.

When Grafton reached The Castle it was apparent to him that there had been a storm, doubtless a quarrel between the Grand Duke and his son.

Luncheon was served in a huge, clammily cool chamber of state. Conversation was all but impossible, so elaborate were the ceremonies of feeding the Grand Duke. Each dish for him was passed from servant to servant in ascending order, and then from gentleman-in-waiting to gentleman-in-waiting in ascending rank until at last it was set before His Royal Highness. After he had been served, the others were served with almost equal elaboration of ceremony--Aloyse before Erica, and Grafton, by special courtesy, immediately after her, to the irritation of the ladies and gentlemen of the court whose rank in the royal household gave them seats at the royal luncheon-table. Grafton watched the tedious ceremonies, marvelling that any one would tolerate them day after day and year after year. Erica and Aloyse sat gazing into their plates and did not speak. The Grand Duke fussed and blustered over his food, and ate greedily, with much smacking of lips, between mouthfuls asking questions about America.

It was half-past three when he rose and said to Grafton, “We will smoke in my apartment.” Grafton followed him through five or six enormous rooms, all gaudily decorated, all clammy cool, all impossible as human habitations. They ascended a stairway down which fifteen men might have marched abreast. They came to a mezzanine floor, and, dodging under a low beam, went along a dark passage-way. It ended in a small, low-ceilinged room plainly furnished, every article showing signs of long and hard usage. There was much dust and an odor of stuffy staleness, and the heat was intense. “Here’s where I live,” said the Grand Duke, dropping to a ragged old lounge with a sigh of pleasure and lighting a pipe. “I have to have some place where I can be comfortable.” The pipe was old and strong, the windows were tight shut. “I always feel cold after eating,” said the Grand Duke. “You don’t mind the windows being closed?”

“Not at all,” said Grafton, in an unconvincing tone. It seemed to him that if he stayed there many minutes he would faint. “I suppose it is about my Rembrandts that you wished to talk to me,” he began, wishing to hasten the end.

“What you said about them interested me greatly,” replied the Grand Duke. “I thought possibly we might come to some agreement about them--if--”

“Well, I was attracted by only one picture in your collection that you could part with--the one you bought from Acton--the spurious Velasquez. I’ve always wanted it--in fact, I came here to try to get it. But I’ve almost lost interest in it.”

“It is idle to discuss that. I could not think of giving up the picture; it is one of my ancestors--”

“That is by no means certain--as you know.”

“I so regard it,” said Casimir.

“I will exchange the ‘Woman with the Earrings’ for it,” continued Grafton.

“Come, now, Mr. Grafton. Is that reasonable?”

“I can get for it double what you paid for the Spaniard.”

“And I will pay you double,” said Casimir.

“Money would not tempt me. The Spaniard or nothing. But--I’m not well to-day--you must excuse me. I can meet you at the gallery to-morrow at eleven, or you can let me know what you will do.”

Grafton was overwhelmed by the foul air of the Grand Duke’s “cosey corner” of the palace. His plea was the literal truth and the Grand Duke could see it in his face. He assented to the appointment for the following morning, and Grafton hurriedly made his escape.

He felt that within the next few minutes he would be at his life-crisis.

Another bend of the road and the park gates would be in view. And still no Erica. He was about to turn back when she called him from an obscure side-path. As his eyes met hers his heart leaped--he knew that he had won.

“They have been following me,” she said, in a low tone. “Quick; come with me.” She darted into the wilderness, he close behind her. They wound in and out through a tangle of paths which only one thoroughly familiar with the park would have known as paths. At last they came to a fallen tree in a thicket so dense that it was barely lighted, although sunset was four hours away.

“We are safe,” she said, her eyes brilliant.

He caught her in his arms. “It seems to me that I loved you the instant I saw you. And I shall not give you up. We will go away to my country--to our country.”

“Yes--yes,” she said. “You have opened a gate I’ve often looked at, and I see beyond it the paradise I’ve dreamed of. And I must follow you. I care only for you. I”--she had a very wonderful expression in her eyes--“I love you!”

“I shall see the Grand Duke to-morrow morning. I shall tell him. He will--”

“You must try to understand, dear. He will never consent. Can’t you see how he would look at it? And under the law he has absolute control of me for five years yet--until I am twenty-five.”

“But he will release you when he knows that you do not love his son, that you are determined to marry me.”

“No; there is but one way. We must go across the Swiss border; there I shall be free.”

“Then the sooner the better. Let us go to-night.”

“Yes, to-night. What is that--listen! No--this way--come!”

“It is useless,” called a man’s voice from the direction in which they started, and immediately a young officer appeared.

“Prince von Moltzahn!” exclaimed Erica. She drew herself up haughtily. “You are insolent, sir!”

“Your Serene Highness, I am obeying orders.”

“So I’ve caught you,” came in Aloyse’s voice behind them. He was advancing upon Grafton with his sword drawn. His eyes looked murder.

Erica darted between them. “Aloyse! Would you attack an unarmed man?”

“Stand aside!” foamed Aloyse.

She advanced upon him and caught his sword. “Give it to me,” she commanded.

“Let go! Let go!” he said, wildly. “I wish to kill him--the scum--the vermin!”

“You wish to make yourself infamous,” she replied, still holding the sword. “Prince von Moltzahn,” she called over her shoulder, “either hand your sword to Mr. Grafton or help me disarm this fool.”

Moltzahn stood uncertainly, murmuring something about “the son of my sovereign.”

“Release him, Erica,” said Grafton. “He dare not attack me. He’s had time to think.”

Erica tugged at the sword, and Aloyse yielded it with a great show of reluctance. “Now what are you going to do?” she said, scornfully. “Why are you here? Why are you always making yourself ridiculous?”

“You’ll see what I’ll do. My father thought I was mistaken yesterday. He’ll know better now. Both of you must come to The Castle.”

“With the greatest pleasure,” said Grafton.

“You go by separate ways,” continued Aloyse. “Erica, von Moltzahn will escort you. I have a few soldiers at the end of this path; I’ve kept them out of sight, as we want no scandal. After you are on the way, we’ll escort this person,” with a contemptuous gesture towards Grafton.

“No,” said Erica. “We go together. Send your soldiers away, Aloyse.”

The Inheriting Grand Duke distended his chest and began to bluster, but she cut him short. “Send them away or I’ll send them away myself.”

They walked to The Castle together, Erica and Grafton in apparent high spirits, Aloyse and Moltzahn silent and sullen. They appeared before the Grand Duke in his cabinet.

“What’s all this?” he demanded, glowering.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Erica, gayly. “Mr. Grafton and I were talking in the park, and Aloyse and the Prince suddenly appeared; I think Aloyse had some soldiers hidden somewhere. And they insisted on taking Mr. Grafton and me prisoners and bringing us here.”

“You jackass!” shouted the Grand Duke at the Inheriting Grand Duke.

“Now wait till you hear me, father,” whined the Inheriting Grand Duke. “There’s something up between Erica and this fellow; I know it. He calls her Erica, and they were hidden in a thicket, and I saw him kiss her.”

“You’re stark mad,” said the Grand Duke, looking at him disgustedly. “What is the matter, Mr. Grafton?”

“The Duchess Erica has explained all that either of us knows,” replied Grafton, discreetly.

Aloyse appealed to Moltzahn. “Am I not right? Didn’t he call her Erica and kiss her? Weren’t they hid in a thicket?”

Moltzahn bowed. “Your Royal Highness has given the facts as I can testify.”

Grafton, watching the Grand Duke’s face closely, saw a change in it which was instantly corrected. “The old fox,” he thought. “He suspects. What will he do?”

Casimir looked at Moltzahn black as a thunder-cloud. “Liar!” he roared. “How dare you utter such a scandal of Her Serene Highness?” Then he turned to Grafton. “A thousand pardons, Mr. Grafton. We trust you will forget this folly. We owe you an apology. We feel profoundly humiliated.”

“Pray think no more about it,” said Grafton.

“You will pardon us for the brevity of our apologies to-day, we beg. Baron Zeppstein will escort you to your hotel. And we look forward to the pleasure of seeing you at the galleries at eleven to-morrow.”

“At eleven,” said Grafton, bowing to Erica as the Grand Duke, taking his arm, escorted him to the anteroom. They shook hands, the Grand Duke placing his left hand cordially, even affectionately, on Grafton’s shoulder.

Zeppstein had an abstracted companion on the drive, and when Grafton was alone he flung himself on the divan in his sitting-room and abandoned himself to thoughts that gave his face an expression of deep discouragement.

When the Grand Duke returned to his cabinet, he withered Moltzahn with a furious look. “What!” he snarled. “Still here? Be off! You are a loathsome creature. Don’t show yourself at court for three months. And if we ever hear that a word of this has passed your lips, we’ll strip your epaulettes from you before the entire army and banish you. Out of our sight!”

Moltzahn backed from the room, bowing and cringing. When he was gone the Grand Duke turned on his son. “And now for you, sir! Apologize to Her Serene Highness! Say after me--put your heels together and bend--now say: ‘Your Serene Highness, I humbly ask pardon for my infamous conduct, for my lies, for my insults.’”

The Inheriting Grand Duke repeated the words in a choked voice.

“And,” continued the Grand Duke, “if you should meet Mr. Grafton again, we command you to speak to him as one gentleman to another with whom he is on friendly terms. Do you hear?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” murmured his heir.

“You will withdraw.”

Erica and the Grand Duke were now alone. “I’m sorry, indeed, my dear child, that this has happened.” He took her hand affectionately.

“You have done all that I expected--more.” Erica was blushing and looked extremely guilty. She felt that Aloyse and Moltzahn had outrageously insulted her, but she did not like this reparation on false pretences. “I have much to say to you--”

“Not to-day--not to-day,” interrupted the Grand Duke. “I am exhausted, my dear. Go to your apartments and compose yourself.”

VII

The Grand Duke Gives Battle

Erica went to her wing of The Castle and sat by a window, trying to plan the next move. But her brain was so hot and her thoughts so rambling that she could devise nothing. She rang for her maid. An old woman appeared. “I rang for Ernestine,” said Erica.

“Yes, Your Serene Highness. Ernestine has been taken suddenly ill and sent me in her place. I’m Greta.”

Something in the old woman’s face and manner roused an uneasiness in her. She went to the outer door of her apartment. A stupid-looking soldier was on guard there, marching stiffly to and fro.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m on guard,” he answered, in a mountain dialect of German which she could hardly understand.

She started down the corridor.

“Come now, lady, don’t make trouble. I can’t let you pass.” He put his hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She looked at him haughtily. “I am the Duchess Erica.”

“Yes; I know you think so, lady; that’s your trouble. Now go back quietly--do!”

She returned to her apartment. “Leave me,” she said to the old woman.

Greta retired to the anteroom. “Out of the apartment!” exclaimed Erica. “I do not wish you about.”

“Pardon, Your Serene Highness, but His Royal Highness has commanded me not to leave.”

Erica closed the door of her boudoir. She paced the floor. “How helpless I am!” she thought. “I cannot move in any direction!”

* * * * *

Early the next morning Grafton went to a lawyer--Fogel, who is conspicuous in the Zweitenbourg Reichstag as a fierce anti-monarchist. Grafton professed a student’s interest in the laws affecting the royal prerogative. Fogel was most courteous and obliging. He explained in detail, and, when he had ended, Grafton saw that legally his affair was hopeless. The Grand Duke was absolute over the members of his own family and court, except that he could not inflict the death penalty, nor could he detain any one in prison for a longer period than six months without showing cause before the supreme tribunal--on application of a relative of the detained person.

Grafton thanked Fogel and went mournfully back to his hotel. He was expecting every moment a message from the Grand Duke postponing or breaking his engagement, but at half-past ten no message had come. He drove out to The Castle. As he passed the northwest wing he looked up; there stood Erica. He saw her make a gesture as if she were flinging something. It struck the road just ahead of his carriage. He told the driver to stop, descended, picked up a little silver box and with it several small stones. He sent the stones sailing one at a time out over the lake. He put the box in his pocket.

With the carriage following him, he walked round The Castle to the galleries and entered. No one was there; he opened the box, drew out a small paper: “I am a prisoner; my uncle knows. My maid, Ernestine Wundsch, lives in Emperor Ferdinand Second Street, No. 643--over the bake-shop. I love you; be careful for my sake. When I escape I shall go to Schaffhausen.”

He thrust the note into his pocket and came out of the alcove into which he had withdrawn to make sure of not being spied upon. Ten minutes passed before the Grand Duke came in. “Pardon my tardiness,” he said, politely. Grafton noted a malicious twinkle in his eyes. “I was arranging the marriage of my son and my niece. The days of romance are not dead. After their little misunderstanding yesterday, they made it up and--how hot young blood is!--they were all for marrying at once. I hadn’t the heart to refuse them. But--to our little affair.”

“I’ve decided not to part with my Rembrandts,” said Grafton. His head was in a whirl. Beneath a fairly composed exterior mad impulses to strangle, to kill, to fight his way to her and bear her off were raging.

“Ah! I regret it. And when do you leave us? That devil, von Moltzahn, is a dangerous fellow. I’m having my police guard you. No; don’t thank me. It’s no trouble, I assure you. You had a pleasant little talk on law with Fogel this morning; he was most enthusiastic over your eagerness to learn; he was talking with one of my secret police about it. I’m sorry you have decided to leave us so soon--to-night, I think you were saying yesterday? And if you change your mind about the Rembrandts, you know I’m always willing to listen to any reasonable terms.”

The Grand Duke bowed him out, but did not offer to shake hands. Grafton entered his carriage and was driven rapidly away, an officer in a plain uniform following him. As soon as Grafton saw it, he drew the silver box from his pocket, took out the note, read it until he had it by heart, then put it in his mouth and swallowed it. He waited until the road wound close to the edge of the lake. He looked back; the officer could not see him. He tossed the little box into the lake.

At the park gates the carriage was halted. The officer came up, several others appeared from the lodge, including one who seemed to be of high rank. They were most polite, most apologetic, but they took him into the lodge and searched him thoroughly. And when he went on to town it was in another carriage.

The proprietor was waiting for him. “I regret exceedingly, sir,” he said, in a frightened, deprecating voice, “but your rooms are taken from ten o’clock to-morrow.”

“That will be satisfactory to me,” replied Grafton. “I shall leave to-night or early in the morning.”

“Thank you, Highness.” The proprietor bowed low and beamed gratitude and relief.

VIII

The American is Reinforced