The King sprang up from his writing-table as though electrified.
"You!" he gasped, turning pale and glaring at her--"you, Claire! Why
are you here?" he demanded angrily.
"To speak with you, Ferdinand. That scheming reptile Hinckeldeym
forbade me to see you; but I have defied him--and have come to you."
"Forbade you! why?" he asked, in a deep voice, facing her, and at once
noticing that she was disguised as Henriette.
"Because he fears that I may expose his ingenious intrigue to you. I
have discovered everything, and I have come to you, my husband, to face
you, and to answer any charges that this man may bring against me. I
only ask for justice," she added, in a low, earnest voice. "I appeal to
you for that, for the sake of our little Ignatia; for the sake of my own
good name, not as Queen, but as a woman!"
"Then Hinckeldeym was aware that you were returning?"
"His spies, no doubt, telegraphed information that I had left London.
He was awaiting me in the blue anteroom when I arrived, ten minutes
ago."
"He told me nothing," her husband remarked gruffly, knitting his brows
in marked displeasure.
"Because he fears the revelation of his dastardly plot to separate us,
and to hurl me down to the lowest depths of infamy and shame."
Her husband was silent; his eyes were fixed upon hers. Only yesterday
he had called Meyer, the Minister of Justice, and given orders for an
application to the Court for a divorce. Hinckeldeym, by continually
pointing out the Imperial displeasure in Vienna, had forced him to take
this step. He had refrained as long as he could, but at last had been
forced to yield.
As far as government was concerned, Hinckeldeym was, he considered, an
excellent Minister; yet since that night when the man had introduced his
spies, he had had his shrewd suspicions aroused that all he had told him
concerning Claire was not the exact truth. Perhaps, after all, he had
harshly misjudged her. Such, indeed, was the serious thought that had a
thousand times of late been uppermost in his mind--ever since, indeed,
he had given audience to the Minister Meyer on the previous morning.
Claire went on, shining forth all her sweet, womanly self. Her
intellectual powers, her elevated sense of religion, her high honourable
principles, her best feelings as a woman, all were displayed. She
maintained at first a calm self-command, as one sure of carrying her
point in the end; and yet there was, nevertheless, a painful,
heart-thrilling uncertainty. In her appeal, however, was an
irresistible and solemn pathos, which, falling upon her husband's heart,
caused him to wonder, and to stand open-mouthed before her.
"You allege, then, that all this outrageous scandal that has been the
talk of Europe has been merely invented by Hinckeldeym and his friends?"
asked the King, folding his arms firmly and fixing his eyes upon his
wife very seriously.
"I only ask you, Ferdinand, to hear the truth, and as Sovereign to
render justice where justice is due," was her calm response, her pale
face turned to his. "I was too proud in my own honesty as your wife to
appeal to you: indeed, I saw that it was hopeless, so utterly had you
fallen beneath the influence of my enemies. So I preferred to leave the
Court, and to live incognito as an ordinary person."
"But you left Treysa with Leitolf, the man who was your lover! You
can't deny that, eh?" he snapped.
"I deny it, totally and emphatically," was her response, facing him
unflinchingly. "Carl Leitolf loved me when I was a child, but years
before my marriage with you I had ceased to entertain any affection for
him. He, however, remained my friend--and he is still my friend."
"Then you don't deny that to-day he is really your friend?" he said,
with veiled sarcasm.
"Why should I? Surely there is nothing disgraceful that a man should
show friendliness and sympathy towards a woman who yearns for her
husband's love, and is lonely and unhappy, as I have been? Again, I did
not leave Treysa with him. He joined my train quite by accident, and we
travelled to Vienna together. He left me at the station, and I have not
seen him since."
"When you were in Vienna, a few days before, you actually visited him at
his hotel?"
"Certainly; I went to see him just as I should call upon any other
friend. I recognised the plot against us, and arranged with him that he
should leave the Court and go to Rome."
"I don't approve of such friends," he snapped again quickly.
"A husband should always choose his wife's male friends. I am entirely
in your hands, Ferdinand."
"But surely you know that a thousand and one scandalous stories have
been whispered about you--not only in the palace, but actually among the
people. The papers, even, have hinted at your disgraceful and
outrageous behaviour."
"And I have nothing whatever to be ashamed of. You, my husband, I face
boldly to-night, and declare to you that I have never, for one single
moment, forgotten my duty either to you or to our child," she said, in a
very low, firm voice, hot tears at that moment welling in her beautiful
eyes. "I am here to declare my innocence--to demand of you justice,
Ferdinand!"
His lips were pressed together. He was watching her intently, noticing
how very earnestly and how very boldly she refuted those statements
which, in his entire ignorance of the conspiracy, he had believed to be
scandalous truths. Was it really possible that she, his wife, whom all
Europe had admired for her grace, her sweetness, and her extraordinary
beauty, was actually a victim of a deeply-laid plot of Hinckeldeym's?
To him it seemed utterly impossible. She was endeavouring, perhaps, to
shield herself by making these counter allegations. A man, he
reflected, seldom gets even with a woman's ingenuity.
"Hinckeldeym has recently revealed to me something else, Claire," he
said, speaking very slowly, his eyes still fixed upon hers--"the
existence of another lover, an interesting person who, it appears, is a
criminal!"
"Listen, Ferdinand, and I will tell you the truth--the whole truth," she
said very earnestly. "You will remember the narrow escape I had that
day when my cob shied at a motor car and ran away, and a stranger--an
Englishman--stopped the animal, and was so terribly injured that he had
to be conveyed to the hospital, and remained there some weeks in a very
precarious state. And he afterwards disappeared, without waiting for me
to thank him personally?"
"Yes; I remember hearing something about him."
"It is that man--the criminal," she declared; and then, in quick,
breathless sentences, she explained how her jewels had been stolen in
Paris, and how, when the thieves knew of her identity, the bag had been
restored to her intact. He listened to every word in silence,
wondering. The series of romantic incidents held him surprised. They
were really gallant and gentlemanly thieves, if--if nothing else, he
declared.
"To this Mr. Bourne I owe my life," she said; "and to him I also owe the
return of my jewels. Is it, therefore, any wonder when these two men,
Bourne and Redmayne, have showed me such consideration, that, lonely as
I am, I should regard them as friends? I have Redmayne's daughter with
me here, as maid. She is below, with Ignatia. It is this Mr. Bourne,
who is engaged to be married to Leucha Redmayne, that Hinckeldeym seeks
to denounce as my lover!"
"He says that both men are guilty of theft within the Empire; indeed,
Bourne is, it is said, guilty of jewel robbery in Eugendorf."
"They have both been arrested at Hinckeldeym's instigation, and are now
in London, remanded before being extradited here."
"Oh! he has not lost very much time, it seems."
"No. His intention is that Mr. Bourne shall stand his trial here, in
Treysa, and at the same time the prisoner is to be denounced by inspired
articles in the press as my lover--that I, Queen of Marburg, have allied
myself with a common criminal! Cannot you see his dastardly intention?
He means that this, his last blow, his master stroke, shall crush me,
and break my power for ever," she cried desperately. "You, Ferdinand,
will give me justice--I know you will! I am still your wife!" she
implored. "You will not allow their foul lies and insinuations to
influence you further; will you?" she asked. "In order to debase me in
your eyes and in the eyes of all Europe, Hinckeldeym has caused the
arrest of this man to whom I owe my life--the man who saved me, not
because I was Crown Princess, but because I was merely a woman in peril.
Think what betrayal and arrest means to these men. It means long terms
of imprisonment to both. And why? Merely in order to attack me--
because I am their friend. They may be guilty of theft--indeed they
admit they are; nevertheless I ask you to give them your clemency, and
to save them. You can have them brought here for trial; and there are
ways, technicalities of the law, or something, by which their release
can be secured. A King may act as he chooses in his own Kingdom."
Every word she spoke was so worthy of herself, so full of sentiment and
beauty, poetry and passion. Too naturally frank for disguise, too
modest to confess her depth of love while the issue remained in
suspense, it was a conflict between love and fear and dignity.
"I think you ask me rather too much, Claire," he said, in a somewhat
quieter tone. "You ask me to believe all that you tell me, without
giving me any proof whatsoever."
"And how can I give you proof when Mr. Bourne and his friend are in
custody in London? Let them be extradited to Treysa, and then you may
have them brought before you privately and questioned."
For some moments he did not speak. What she had just alleged had placed
upon the matter an entirely different aspect. Indeed, within himself he
was compelled to admit that the suspicions he had lately entertained
regarding Hinckeldeym had now been considerably increased by her
surprising statements. Was she speaking the truth?
Whenever he allowed his mind to wander back he recollected that it had
been the crafty old President who had first aroused those fierce jealous
thoughts within his heart. It was he who had made those allegations
against Leitolf; he who, from the very first weeks of his marriage, had
treated Claire with marked antipathy, although to her face he had shown
such cordiality and deep obeisance that she had actually believed him to
be her friend. Yes, he now recognised that this old man, in whom his
father had reposed such perfect confidence, had been the fount of all
those reports that had scandalised Europe. If his calm, sweet-faced
wife had, after all, been a really good and faithful woman, then he had
acted as an outrageous brute to her. His own cruelty pricked his
conscience. It was for her to forgive, not for her to seek forgiveness.
She saw his hesitation, and believed it due to a reluctance to accept
her allegations as the real truth.
"If you doubt me, Ferdinand, call Hinckeldeym at this instant. Let me
face this man before you, and let me categorically deny all the false
charges which he and his sycophants have from time to time laid against
me. Here, at Court, I am feared, because they know that I am aware of
all my secret enemies. Make a clearance of them all and commence
afresh," she urged, a sweet light in her wonderful eyes. "You have
clever men about you who would make honest and excellent Ministers; but
while you are surrounded by such conspirators as these, neither you nor
the throne itself is safe. I know," she went on breathlessly, "that you
have been seized by a terrible jealousy--a cruel, consuming jealousy,
purposely aroused against me in order to bring about the result which
was but the natural outcome--my exile from Treysa and our estrangement.
It is true that you did not treat me kindly--that you struck me--that
you insulted me--that you have disfigured me by your blows; but
recollect, I beg, that I have never once complained. I never once
revealed the secret of my dire unhappiness; only to one man, the man who
has been my friend ever since my childhood--Carl Leitolf. And if you
had been in my place, Ferdinand, I ask whether you would not have sought
comfort in relating your unhappiness to a friend. I ask you that
question," she added, in a low, intense, trembling voice. "For all your
unkindness and neglect I have long ago really forgiven you. I have
prayed earnestly to God that He would open your eyes and show me in my
true light--a faithful wife. I leave it to Him to be my judge, and to
deal out to my enemies the justice they deserve."
"Claire!" he cried, suddenly taking her slim white hand in his and
looking fiercely into her beautiful eyes, "is this the real truth that
you have just told me?"
"It is!" she answered firmly; "before God, I swear that it is! I am a
poor sinner in His sight, but as your wife I have nothing with which to
reproach myself--nothing. If you doubt me, then call Leitolf from Rome;
call Bourne. Both men, instead of being my lovers, are your friends--
and mine. I can look both you and them in the face without flinching,
and am ready to do so whenever it is your will."
All was consummated in that one final touch of truth and nature. The
consciousness of her own worth and integrity which had sustained her
through all her trials of heart, and that pride of station for which she
had contended through long years--which had become more dear by
opposition and by the perseverance with which she had asserted it--
remained the last strong feeling upon her mind even at that moment, the
most fateful crisis of her existence.
Her earnest, fearless frankness impressed him. Was it really possible
that his wife--this calm-faced woman who had been condemned by him
everywhere, and against whom he had already commenced proceedings for a
divorce--was really, after all, quite innocent?
He remembered Hinckeldeym's foul allegations, the damning evidence of
his spies, the copies of certain letters. Was all this a tissue of
fraud, falsehood, and forgery?
In a few rapid words she went on to relate how, in that moment of
resentment at such scandalous gossip being propagated concerning her,
she had threatened that when she became Queen she would change the whole
entourage, and in a brief, pointed argument she showed him the strong
motive with which the evil-eyed President of the Council had formed the
dastardly conspiracy against her.
"Claire," he asked, still holding her soft hand with the wedding ring
upon it, "after all that has passed--after all my harsh, inhuman cruelty
to you--can you really love me still? Do you really entertain one
single spark of love for me?"
"Love you!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms in a passion of
tears; "love you, Ferdinand!" she sobbed. "Why, you are my husband;
whom else have I to love, besides our child?"
"Then I will break up this damnable conspiracy against you," he said
determinedly. "I--the King--will seek out and punish all who have
plotted against my happiness and yours. They shall be shown no mercy;
they shall all be swept into obscurity and ruin. They thought," he
added, in a hard, hoarse voice, "to retain their positions at Court by
keeping us apart, because they knew that you had discovered their
despicable duplicity. Leave them to me; Ferdinand of Marburg knows well
how to redress a wrong, especially one which concerns his wife's
honour," and he ran his hand over his wife's soft hair as he bent and
kissed her lips.
So overcome with emotion was she that at the moment she could not speak.
God had at last answered those fervent appeals that she had made ever
since the first year of their marriage.
"I have wronged you, Claire--deeply, very deeply wronged you," he went
on, in a husky, apologetic voice, his arm tenderly about her waist, as
he again pressed his lips to hers in reconciliation. "But it was the
fault of others. They lied to me; they exaggerated facts and
manufactured evidence, and I foolishly believed them. Yet now that you
have lifted the scales from my eyes, the whole of their devilishly
clever intrigue stands plainly revealed. It utterly staggers me. I can
only ask you to forgive. Let us from to-night commence a new life--that
sweet, calm life of trust and love which when we married we both
believed was to be ours for ever, but which, alas! by the interference
and malignity of our enemies, was turned from affection into hatred and
unhappiness."
"I am ready, Ferdinand," she answered, a sweet smile lighting up her
beautiful features. "We will bury the past; for you are King and I am
Queen, and surely none shall now come between us. My happiness tonight,
knowing that you are, after all, good and generous, and that you really
love me truly, no mere words of mine can reveal. Yet even now I have
still a serious thought, a sharp pang of conscience for those who are
doomed to suffer because they acted as my friends when I was outcast and
friendless."
"You mean the men Bourne and Redmayne," the King said. "Yes, they are
in a very perilous position. We must press for their extradition here,
and then their release will be easy. To-morrow you must find some means
by which to reassure them."
"And Hinckeldeym?"
"Hinckeldeym shall this very night answer to his Sovereign for the foul
lies he has spoken," replied the King, in a hard, meaning tone. "But,
dearest, think no more of that liar. He will never cross your path
again; I shall take good care of that. And now," he said, imprinting a
long, lingering caress upon her white, open brow--"and now let us call
up our little Ignatia and see how the child has grown. An hour ago I
was the saddest man in all the kingdom, Claire; now," he laughed, as he
kissed her again, "I admit to you I am the very happiest!"
Their lips met again in a passionate, fervent caress.
On her part she gazed up into his kind, loving eyes with a rapturous
look which was more expressive than words--a look which told him plainly
how deeply she still loved him, notwithstanding all the bitterness and
injustice of the black, broken past.