When at last the brilliant company moved on into the great ballroom she
had an opportunity of walking among those men and women who, though they
bent before her, cringing and servile, were, she knew, eagerly seeking
her ruin. The Ministers, Stuhlmann, Hoepfner, and Meyer, all three
creatures of the King, bowed low to her, but she knew they were her
worst enemies. The Countess Hupertz, a stout, fair-haired,
masculine-looking woman, also bent before her and smiled--yet this woman
had invented the foulest lies concerning her, and spread them
everywhere. In all that brilliant assembly she had scarcely one single
person whom she could term a friend. And for a very simple reason.
Friendliness with the Crown Princess meant disfavour with the King, and
none of those place-seekers and sycophants could afford to risk that.
Yet, knowing that they were like a pack of hungry wolves about her,
seeking to tear her reputation to shreds and cast her out of the
kingdom, she walked among them, speaking with them, and smiling as
though she were perfectly happy.
Presently, when the splendid orchestra struck up and dancing commenced,
she came across Hinckeldeym, the wily old President of the Council of
Ministers, who, on many occasions, had showed that, unlike the others,
he regarded her as an ill-used wife. A short, rather podgy, dark-haired
man, in Court dress, he bowed, welcomed her back to Treysa, and inquired
after her family in Vienna.
Then, as she strolled with him to the farther end of the room, lazily
fanning herself with her great ostrich-feather fan, she said in a low
voice,--
"Hinckeldeym, as you know, I have few friends here. I wonder whether
you are one?"
The flabby-faced old Minister pursed his lips, and glanced at her
quickly, for he was a wily man. Then, after a moment's pause, he
said,--
"I think that ever since your Imperial Highness came here as Crown
Princess I have been your partisan. Indeed, I thought I had the honour
of reckoning myself among your Highness's friends."
"Yes, yes," she exclaimed quickly. "But I have so many enemies here,"
and she glanced quickly around, "that it is really difficult for me to
distinguish my friends."
"Enemies!" echoed the tactful Minister in surprise. "What causes your
Highness to suspect such a thing?"
"I do not suspect--I know," was her firm answer as she stood aside with
him. "I have learnt what these people are doing. Why? Tell me,
Hinckeldeym--why is this struggling crowd plotting against me?"
He looked at her for a moment in silence. He was surprised that she
knew the truth.
"Because, your Imperial Highness--because they fear you. They know too
well what will probably occur when you are Queen."
"Yes," she said in a hard, determined voice. "When I am Queen I will
sweep clear this Augean stable. There will be a change, depend upon it.
This Court shall be an upright and honourable one, and not, as it now
is, a replica of that of King Charles the Second of England. They hate
me, Hinckeldeym--they hate me because I am a Hapsbourg; because I try
and live uprightly and love my child, and when I am Queen I will show
them that even a Court may be conducted with gaiety coupled with
decorum."
The Minister--who, though unknown to her, was, perhaps, her worst enemy,
mainly through fear of the future--listened to all she said in discreet
silence. It was a pity, he thought, that the conspiracy had been
betrayed to her, for although posing as her friend he would have been
the first to exult over her downfall. It would place him in a position
of safety.
He noted her threat. It only confirmed what the Court had anticipated--
namely, that upon the death of the infirm old monarch, all would be
changed, and that brilliant aristocratic circle would be sent forth into
obscurity--and by an Austrian Archduchess, too!
The Princess Claire unfortunately believed the crafty Hinckeldeym to be
her friend, therefore she told him all that she had learnt; of course,
not betraying the informer.
"From to-day," she went on in a hard voice, "my attitude is changed. I
will defend myself. Against those who have lied about me, and invented
their vile scandals, I will stand as an enemy, and a bitter one.
Hitherto I have been complacent and patient, suffering in silence, as so
many defenceless women suffer. But for the sake of this kingdom, over
which I shall one day be Queen, I will stand firm; and you, Hinckeldeym,
must remain my friend."
"Your Imperial Highness has but to command me," replied the false old
courtier, bowing low with the lie ever ready upon his lips. "I hope to
continue as your friend."
"From the day I first set foot in Treysa, these people have libelled me
and plotted my ruin," she went on. "I know it all. I can give the
names of each of my enemies, and I am kept informed of all the
scandalous tales whispered into my husband's ears. Depend upon it that
those liars and scandalmongers will in due time reap their reward."
"I know very little of it," the Minister declared in a low voice, so
that he could not be overheard. "Perhaps, however, your Highness has
been indiscreet--has, I mean, allowed these people some loophole through
which to cast their shafts?"
"They speak of Leitolf," she said quite frankly. "And they libel me, I
know."
"I hear to-day that Leitolf is recalled to Vienna, and is being sent as
attache to Rome," he remarked. "Perhaps it is as well in the present
circumstances."
She looked him straight in the face as the amazing truth suddenly dawned
upon her.
"Then you, too, Hinckeldeym, believe that what is said about us is
true!" she exclaimed hoarsely, suspecting, for the first time, that the
man with the heavy, flabby face might play her false.
And she had confessed to him, of all men, her intention of changing the
whole Court entourage the instant her husband ascended the throne! She
saw how terribly injudicious she had been.
But the cringing courtier exhibited his white palms, and with that
clever exhibition of sympathy which had hitherto misled her, said,--
"Surely your Imperial Highness knows me sufficiently well to be aware
that in addition to being a faithful servant to his Majesty the King, I
am also a strong and staunch friend of yours. There may be a plot," he
said; "a vile, dastardly plot to cast you out from Marburg. Yet if you
are only firm and judicious, you must vanquish them, for they are all
cowards--all of them." She believed him, little dreaming that the words
she had spoken that night had sealed her fate. Heinrich Hinckeldeym was
a far-seeing man, the friend of anybody who had future power in his
hands--a man who was utterly unscrupulous, and who would betray his
closest friend when necessity demanded. And yet, with his courtly
manner, his fat yet serious face, his clever speech, and his marvellous
tact, he had deceived more than one of the most eminent diplomatists in
Europe, including even Bismarck himself.
He looked at her with his bright, ferret-like eyes, debating within
himself when the end of her should be. He and his friends had already
decided that the blow was soon to be struck, for every day's delay
increased their peril. The old King's malady might terminate fatally at
any moment, and once Queen, then to remove her would be impossible.
She had revealed to him openly her intention, therefore he was
determined to use in secret her own words as a weapon against her, for
he was utterly unscrupulous.
The intrigues of Court had a hundred different undercurrents, but it was
part of his policy to keep well versed in them all. His finger was ever
upon the pulse of that circle about the throne, while he was also one of
the few men in Marburg who had the ear of the aristocratic old monarch
with whom etiquette was as a religion.
"Your Imperial Highness is quite right in contemplating the Crown
Prince's accession to the throne," he said ingeniously, in order to
further humour her. "The doctors see the King daily, and the
confidential reports made to us Ministers are the reverse of reassuring.
In a few months at most the end must come--suddenly in all probability.
Therefore the Crown Prince should prepare himself for the
responsibilities of the throne, when your Highness will be able to repay
your enemies for all their ill-nature."
"I shall know the way, never fear," she answered in a low, firm voice.
"To-day their power is paramount, but to-morrow mine shall be. I shall
then live only for my husband and my child. At present I am living for
a third reason--to vindicate myself."
"Then your Imperial Highness contemplates changing everything?" he asked
simply, but with the ingenuity of a great diplomatist. Every word of
her reply he determined to use in order to secure her overthrow.
"I shall change all Ministers of State, Chamberlains, every one, from
the Chancellor of the Orders down to the Grand Master of the Ceremonies.
They shall all go, and first of all the _dames du palais_--those women
who have so cleverly plotted against me, but of whose conspiracy I am
now quite well aware." And she mentioned one or two names--names that
had been revealed to her by the obscure functionary Steinbach.
The Minister saw that the situation was a grave, even desperate one. He
was uncertain how much she knew concerning the plot, and was therefore
undecided as to what line he should adopt. In order to speak in private
they left the room, pacing the long, green-carpeted corridor that,
enclosed in glass, ran the whole length of that wing of the palace. He
tried by artful means to obtain from her further details, but she
refused to satisfy him. She knew the truth, and that, she declared, was
all sufficient.
Old Hinckeldeym was a power in Marburg. For eighteen years he had been
the confidant of the King, and now fearing his favour on the wane, had
wheedled himself into the good graces of the Crown Prince, who had given
him to understand, by broad hints, that he would be only too pleased to
rid himself of the Crown Princess. Therefore, if he could effect this,
his future was assured. And what greater weapon could he have against
her than her own declaration of her intention to sweep clear the Court
of its present entourage?
He had assuredly played his cards wonderfully well. He was a past
master in deception and double-dealing. The Princess, believing that he
was at least her friend, had spoken frankly to him, never for one moment
expecting a foul betrayal.
Yet, if the truth were told, it was that fat-faced, black-eyed man who
had first started the wicked calumny which had coupled her name with
Leitolf; he who had dropped scandalous hints to the Crown Prince of his
beautiful wife's _penchant_ for the good-looking _chef du cabinet_; he
who had secretly stirred up the hostility against the daughter of the
Austrian Archduke, and whose fertile brain had invented lies which were
so ingeniously concocted that they possessed every semblance of truth.
A woman of Imperial birth may be a diplomatist, versed in all the
intricacies of Court etiquette and Court usages, but she can never be at
the same time a woman of the world. Her education is not that of
ordinary beings; therefore, as in the case of the Princess Claire,
though shrewd and tactful, she was no match for the crafty old Minister
who for eighteen years had directed the destiny of that most important
kingdom of the German Empire.
The yellow-haired Countess Hupertz, one of Hinckeldeym's puppets,
watched the Princess and Minister walking in the corridor, and smiled
grimly. While the orchestra played those dreamy waltzes, the tragedy of
a throne was being enacted, and a woman--a sweet, good, lovable woman,
upright and honest--was being condemned to her fate by those fierce,
relentless enemies by which she was, alas! surrounded.
As she moved, her splendid diamonds flashed and glittered with a
thousand fires, for no woman in all the Court could compare with her,
either for beauty or for figure. And yet her husband, his mind poisoned
by those place-hunters--a man whose birth was but as a mushroom as
compared with that of Claire, who possessed an ancestry dating back a
thousand years--blindly believed that which they told him to be the
truth.
De Trauttenberg, in fear lest she might lose her own position, was in
Hinckeldeym's pay, and what she revealed was always exaggerated--most of
it, indeed, absolutely false.
The Court of Marburg had condemned the Crown Princess Claire, and from
their judgment there was no appeal. She was alone, defenceless--doomed
as the victim of the jealousies and fears of others.
Returning to the ballroom, she left the Minister's side; and, by reason
of etiquette, returned to join that man in the dark-blue uniform who
cursed her--the man who was her husband, and who ere long was to reign
as sovereign.
Stories of his actions, many of them the reverse of creditable, had
reached her ears, but she never gave credence to any of them. When
people discussed him she refused to listen. He was her husband, the
father of her little Ignatia, therefore she would hear nothing to his
discredit.
Yes. Her disposition was quiet and sweet, and she was always loyal to
him. He, however, entirely misjudged her.
An hour later, when she had gone to her room, her husband burst in
angrily and ordered the two maids out, telling them that they would not
be wanted further that night. Then, when the door was closed, he strode
up to where she sat before the great mirror, lit by its waxen candles,
for Henriette had been arranging her hair for the night.
"Well, woman!" he cried, standing before her, his brows knit, his eyes
full of fire, "and what is your excuse to me this time?"
"Excuse?" she echoed, looking at him in surprise and very calmly. "For
what, Ferdinand?"
"For your escapade in Vienna!" he said between his teeth. "The instant
you had left, Leitolf received a telegram calling him to Wiesbaden, but
instead of going there he followed you."
"Not with my knowledge, I assure you," she said quickly. "Why do you
think so ill of me--why do you always suspect me?" she asked in a low,
trembling voice of reproach.
"Why do I suspect you? You ask me that, woman, when you wrote to the
man at his hotel, made an appointment, and actually visited him there?
One of our agents watched you. Do you deny it?"
"No," she answered boldly. "I do not deny going to the Count's hotel.
I had a reason for doing so."
He laughed in her face.
"Of course you had--you, who pretend to be such a good and faithful
wife, and such a model mother," he sneered. "I suppose you would not
have returned to Treysa so soon had he not have come back."
"You insult me!" she cried, rising from her chair, her Imperial blood
asserting itself.
"Ah!" he laughed, taunting her. "You don't like to hear the truth, do
you? It seems that the scandal concerning you has been discovered in
Vienna, for De Lindenau has ordered the fellow to return to the
diplomatic service, and is sending him away to Rome."
She was silent. She saw how every word and every action of hers was
being misconstrued.
"Speak, woman!" he cried, advancing towards her. "Confess to me that
you love the fellow."
"Why, Ferdinand, do you wish me to say what is untrue?" she asked in a
low voice, quite calm again, notwithstanding his threatening attitude.
"Ah, you deny it! You lie to me, even when I know the truth--when all
the Court discuss your affection for the fellow whom you yourself
introduced among us. You have been with him in Paris. Deny that!"
"I deny nothing that is true," she answered. "I only deny your right to
charge me with what is false."
"Oh yes," he cried. "You and your brat are a pretty pair. You believe
we are all blind; but, on the contrary, everything is known. Confess!"
he muttered between his teeth. "Confess that you love that man."
She was silent, standing before him, her beautiful eyes fixed upon the
carpet.
He repeated his question in a harder tone than before, but still she
uttered no word. She was determined not to repeat the denial she had
already given, and she recognised that he had some ulterior motive in
wringing from her a confession which was untrue.
"You refuse to speak!" he cried in a quick paroxysm of anger. "Then
take that!" and he struck her with his fist a heavy blow full in the
face, with such force, indeed, that she reeled, and fell backwards upon
the floor.
"Another time perhaps you'll speak when I order you to," he said through
his set teeth, as with his foot he kicked her savagely twice, the dull
blows sounding through the big, gilt-ceilinged room.
Then with a hard laugh of scorn upon his evil lips the brute that was a
Crown Prince, and heir to a European throne, turned and left with an
oath upon his lips, as he slammed the door after him.
In the big, gorgeous room, where the silence was broken by the low
ticking of the ormolu clock, poor, unhappy Claire lay there where she
had fallen, motionless as one dead. Her beautiful face was white as
death, yet horribly disfigured by the cowardly blow, while from the
corner of her mouth there slowly trickled a thin red stream.