A secret service agent--one of the spies of the crafty old Minister
Minckeldeym--had followed Claire from Treysa. Her accidental meeting
with Leitolf had, he declared, been prearranged.
It was now said that she, a Crown Princess of the Imperial blood, had
eloped with her lover! The Court scandal was complete.
Alone in her room that night she sat for hours sobbing, while the great
castle was silent. She was now both homeless and friendless. All the
desperate appeals she had made to her father had been entirely
unavailing. He was a hard man always. She had, he declared, brought a
shameful scandal upon this Imperial house, and he would have nothing
further to do with her. Time after time she stoutly denied the false
and abominable charge, trying to explain the dastardly plot against her,
and the combination of circumstances which led to her meeting with the
Count at Protovin. But he would hear no explanation. Leitolf was her
lover, he declared, and all her excuses were utterly useless. He
refused her his protection, and cast her out as no child of his.
After long hours of tears and ceaseless sobbing, a strange thought
crossed her mind. True, she was unjustly condemned as having eloped
with Carl; yet, after all, was not even that preferable to the fate to
which her husband had conspired to relegate her? The whole of Europe
would say that she left the Court in company with a lover, and she bit
her lip when she thought of the cruel libel. Yet, supposing that they
had no ground for this gossip, was it not more than likely that her
enemies would seek to follow her and confine her in an asylum?
The strange combination of circumstances had, however, given them good
ground for declaring that she had eloped, and if such report got abroad,
as it apparently had done, then her husband would be compelled to sue
for a divorce.
She held her breath. Her fingers clenched themselves into her palms at
thought of it--a divorce on account of the man who had always, from her
girlhood, been her true, loyal, and platonic friend! And if it was
sought to prove what was untrue? Should she defend herself, and
establish her innocence? Or would she, by refusing to make defence,
obtain the freedom from Court which she sought?
She had been utterly dumbfounded by her father's allegations that she
had eloped. Until he had denounced her she had never for one moment
seen the grave peril in which his presence at Protovin had placed her.
He had compromised her quite unintentionally. Her own pure nature and
open mind had never suspected for one moment that those who wished her
ill would declare that she had eloped.
Now, as she sat there in the dead silence, she saw plainly, when too
late, how injudicious she had been--how, indeed, she had played into the
hands of those who sought her downfall. It was a false step to go to
Leitolf at the hotel in Vienna, and a worse action still to ask that he
should be recalled from her Court and sent away as attache to Rome. The
very fact that she showed interest in him had, of course, lent colour to
the grave scandals that were being everywhere whispered. Now the report
that she, an Imperial Archduchess, had eloped with him would set the
empires of Austria and Germany agog.
What the future was to be she did not attempt to contemplate. She was
plunged in despair, utterly hopeless, broken, and without a friend
except Steinbach. Was it destiny that she should be so utterly
misjudged? Even her own father had sent her forth as an outcast!
Early next morning, taking little Ignatia and the bag containing her
jewels, but leaving the maid behind, she drove from the castle, glancing
back at it with heavy heart as the carriage descended into the green,
fertile valley, gazing for the last time upon that old home she loved so
well. It was her last sight of it. She would never again look upon it,
she sadly told herself.
She, an Imperial Archduchess of Austria, Crown Princess of a great
German kingdom, a Dame of the Croix Etoilee, a woman who might any day
become a reigning queen, had renounced her crown and her position, and
was now an outcast! Hers was a curious position--stranger, perhaps,
than that in which any woman had before found herself. Many a royalty
is to-day unhappy in her domestic life, suffering in silence, yet making
a brave show towards the world. She had tried to do the same. She had
suffered without complaint for more than three long, dark years--until
her husband had not only struck her and disfigured her, but had
contemplated ridding himself of her by the foulest and most cowardly
means his devilish ingenuity could devise.
As she drove through those clean, prosperous villages which were on her
own private property, the people came forth, cheering with enthusiasm
and rushing to the carriage to kiss her hand. But she only smiled upon
them sadly--not, they said, shaking their heads after she had passed,
not the same smile as in the old days, before she married the German
Prince and went to far-off Treysa.
The stationmaster at Rattenberg came forward to make his obeisance, and
as certain military manoeuvres were in progress and some troops were
drawn up before the station, both officers and men drew up and saluted.
An old colonel whom she had known well before her marriage came forward,
and bowing, offered to see her to her compartment, expressing delight at
having met her again.
"Your Imperial Highness will never be forgotten here," declared the
gallant, red-faced old fellow, who wore fierce white moustaches. "The
poor are always wondering whether you are ever coming back. And at last
your Highness is here! And going--where?"
She hesitated. Truth to tell, she had never thought of her destination.
"I go now to Lucerne, incognito," she replied, for want of something
else to say; and they both walked on to the platform, he carrying
Henriette's cheap little leather bag containing her jewels.
"So this," he said, "is our little Princess Ignatia, about whom we have
heard so much." And laughingly he touched the shy child's soft cheek
caressingly.
"And who are you?" inquired the child wonderingly, examining his bright
uniform from head to foot.
The Princess joined in the Colonel's laughter. Usually the child was
shy, but, strangely enough, always talkative with any one who wore a
uniform, even though he might be a private soldier on sentry duty at the
palace.
The Colonel was not alone in remarking within himself the plainness and
cheapness of her Imperial Highness's costume. It had been remarked
everywhere, but was supposed that she wore that very ordinary costume in
order to pass incognito.
The train took her to Innsbruck, and after luncheon at the buffet she
continued her journey to Lucerne, arriving there late in the evening,
and taking the hotel omnibus of the Schweizerhof. There she gave her
name as the Baroness Deitel, and declared that her luggage had been
mis-sent--a fact which, of course, aroused some suspicion within the
mind of the shrewd clerk in the bureau. Visitors without luggage are
never appreciated by hotel-keepers.
Next day, however, she purchased a trunk and a number of necessaries,
_lingerie_ for herself and for the little Princess, all of which was
sent to the hotel--a fact that quickly re-established confidence.
A good many people were staying in the place as usual, and very quickly,
on account of her uncommon beauty and natural grace, people began to
inquire who she was. But the reply was that she was Baroness Deitel of
Frankfort--that was all. From her funereal black they took her for a
young widow, and many of the idle young men in the hotel endeavoured to
make her acquaintance. But she spoke to no one. She occupied herself
with her child, and if alone in the hall she always read a book or
newspaper.
The fact was that she was watching the newspapers eagerly, wondering if
they would give currency to the false report of her elopement. But as
day after day went by and nothing appeared, she grew more assured,
hoping that at least the Court at Treysa had suppressed from the press
the foul lie that had spread from mouth to mouth.
One paragraph she read, however, in a Vienna paper was very significant,
for it stated that the Crown Prince Ferdinand of Marburg had arrived in
Vienna at the invitation of the Emperor, who had driven to the station
to meet him, and who had embraced him with marked cordiality.
She read between the lines. The Emperor had called him to Vienna in
order to hear his side of the story--in order to condemn her without
giving her a chance to explain the truth. The Emperor would no doubt
decide whether the fact of her leaving the Court should be announced to
the public or not.
Her surmise was not far wrong, for while sitting in the big hall of the
hotel after luncheon four days later, she saw in the _Daily Mail_ the
following telegram, headed, "A German Court Scandal: Startling
Revelations."
Holding her breath, and knowing that, two young Englishmen, seated
together and smoking, were watching her, she read as follows:--
"Reuter's correspondent at Treysa telegraphs it has just transpired that
a very grave and astounding scandal has occurred at Court. According to
the rumour--which he gives under all reserve--late one night a week ago
the Crown Princess Ferdinand escaped from the palace, and taking with
her her child, the little Princess Ignatia, eloped to Austria with Count
Charles-Leitolf, an official of the Court. A great sensation has been
caused in Court circles in both Germany and Austria. The Crown Princess
before her marriage was, it will be remembered, the Archduchess Claire,
only daughter of the Archduke Charles of Austria, and notable at the
Court of Vienna on account of her extreme beauty. It appears that for
some time past at the Court of Treysa there have been rumours regarding
the intimate friendship between the Crown Princess and the Count, who
was for some time attache at the Austrian Embassy in London. Matters
culminated a short time ago when it became known that the Count had
followed the Princess to Vienna, where she had gone to visit her father.
She returned to Treysa for a few days, still followed by Leitolf, and
then left again under his escort, and has not since been seen.
"In Treysa the sensation caused is enormous. It is the sole topic of
conversation. The Crown Princess was greatly beloved by the people, but
her elopement has entirely negatived her popularity, as the scandal is
considered utterly unpardonable. The Crown Prince has left hurriedly
for Vienna in order to confer with the Emperor, who, it is rumoured, has
issued an edict withdrawing from the Princess her title, and all her
rights as an Imperial Archduchess, and her decorations, as well as
forbidding her to use the Imperial arms. The excitement in the city of
Treysa is intense, but in the Court circle everything is, of course,
denied, the King having forbidden the press to mention or comment upon
the matter in any way. Reuter's correspondent, however, has, from
private sources within the palace, been able to substantiate the above
report, which, vague though it may be, is no doubt true, and the details
of which are already known in all the Courts of Europe. It is thought
probable in Treysa that the Crown Prince Ferdinand will at once seek a
divorce, for certain of the palace servants, notably the
lady-in-waiting, the Countess de Trauttenberg, have come forward and
made some amazing statements. A Council of Ministers is convened for
to-morrow, at which his Majesty will preside."
"De Trauttenberg!" exclaimed the Princess bitterly between her teeth.
"The spy! I wonder what lies she has invented."
She saw the two Englishmen with their eyes still upon her, therefore she
tried to control her feelings. What she had read was surely sufficient
to rouse her blood. She returned to her room. "I am no longer popular
with the people!" she thought to herself. "They too believe ill of me!
My enemies have, alas! triumphed." She re-read the telegram with its
bold heading--the announcement which had startled Europe two days
before--and then with a low sigh replaced the paper upon the table.
This crisis she had foreseen. The Court had given those facts to the
press correspondent because they intended to hound her down as an
infamous and worthless woman, because they had conspired to drive her
out of Treysa; and victory was now theirs.
But none of the tourist crowd in the Schweizerhof ever dreamed that the
cheaply-dressed, demure little widow was the notorious woman whom all;
the world was at that moment discussing--the royal Ionian who had boldly
cast aside a crown.
What she read caused her to bite her lips till they bled. She returned
to her room, and sat for an hour plunged in bitter tears. All the world
was against her, and she had no single person in whom to confide, or of
whom to seek assistance.
That night, acting upon a sudden impulse, she took little Ignatia with
her, and left by the mail by way of Bale for Paris, where she might the
better conceal herself and the grief that was slowly consuming her brave
young heart.
The journey was long and tedious. There was no _wagon-lit_, and the
child, tired out, grew peevish and restless. Nevertheless, half an hour
before noon next day the express ran at last into the Gare de l'Est, and
an elderly, good-natured, grave-looking man in black, with a bright red
tie, took her dressing-bag and gallantly assisted her to alight. She
was unused to travelling with the public, for a royal saloon with bowing
servants and attendants had always been at her disposal; therefore, when
the courteous old fellow held out his hand for her bag, she quite
mechanically gave it to him.
Next instant, however, even before she had realised it, the man had
disappeared into the crowd of alighting passengers.
The truth flashed upon her in a second.
All her magnificent jewels had been stolen!