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
Grafton went into the public square, opposite the hotel, and walked up
and down under the trees. Schemes plausible and schemes fantastical
crowded his brain; the wildest was as practicable as the most sensible.
He cursed his lack of ingenuity. He felt that the intensity of his
love for Erica was paralyzing thought. “In matters about which I care
nothing,” he said to himself, “I can always think of something to do.”
And now he could think of no plan which he did not almost instantly
dismiss. He could not even devise a scheme for seeing Ernestine. To go
to her would be fatal, as the secret police would go with him, were no
doubt watching her.
He seated himself on a bench at the other end of which was an American
tourist. There was a certain sense of companionship, of strength, in
the nearness of a man from “home” at such a time. He noted that his
fellow-countryman was a youth of the unmistakable American type--tall,
thin, with a narrow, shrewd, frank face. The longer he looked at
him the better he liked him. After perhaps twenty minutes the young
American rose to go.
“Please sit again without looking at me or seeming to notice me,” said
Grafton, not moving his lips.
The young American involuntarily glanced at him, but looked away
instantly. He seated himself, yawned, took out his cigarette-case,
lighted a cigarette, and began smoking languidly. A newsboy passed;
Grafton stopped him and bought a paper. He rested his elbows on his
knees, and so held the paper that his face could not be seen, yet was
apparently not designedly hid.
“My name is Frederick Grafton, and I’m from Chicago,” he said. “I’ve
fallen in love with a girl here, and--well, there’s the devil to pay.
I’m being watched; her family’s got a lot of influence. It is vital
that I see her maid. She lives at No. 643 Emperor Ferdinand Second
Street, over the bake-shop. Her name is Ernestine Wundsch. Describe
me to her and tell her to come and sit on the end of this bench,
or, better, send some one she can trust absolutely. Probably she’s
watched, so be careful not to go directly there from here. Will you
help me? On my honor there is nothing in this affair which, if you knew
it, would make you hesitate.”
Grafton straightened up and could see from the corner of his eye that
his countryman was studying his face. “I’ll risk it,” said the youth,
rising and lounging away.