THE STORM BREAKS
The King reached his temporary residence hot and tired after an
exhausting day. It chanced that at a meeting of the Ministry, which he
attended late in the afternoon, the question of Beliani's appointment as
Minister of Finance came up for settlement. It was not determined
without some bickering, and an undercurrent of dislike if not of
positive hatred of the man quickly made itself apparent.
The Serb and the Greek differ in most essentials. The one is by habit
and training a good soldier, a proverbial idler, an easygoing optimist
endowed with genial temper and a happy-go-lucky nature, capable indeed
of extremes, yet mostly inclined to the tolerant indifference that
leaves things as they are; the other, whose martial qualities have
vanished in the melting pot of time, has developed the defensive traits
that come to the aid of all races who can no longer maintain their cause
in the tented field. The Greek is the usurer of the East. He wins his
way by using his subtle wits, and the less adroit people on whom he
preys soon learn to regard him with distrust that often culminates in
personal violence in those half-civilized communities where law and
order are not maintained with a heavy hand.
The Kosnovian Ministry, of course, consisted of men of a much higher
type than the rude peasantry that made up the bulk of the nation. But at
heart they were anti-Greek, and some among them retained lively memories
of Beliani's methods when he was in power a decade earlier. No one
disputed his ability, yet none, save the King, had a good word for him.
It was recognized, however, that under the new dominion his
opportunities for peculation at the expense of the public would be few
and far between.
Alexis III. had already made his influence felt in each department of
State. He was ready to listen to every man's grievances, and to adjust
them if possible; he held the scales evenly between the bureaucracy and
the people. The official element knew full well that it had nothing to
fear from the King's anger if a disputed action could be justified,
while those traders and others who had occasion to deal with any of the
great departments were beginning to understand that they need not dread
the vengeance of an executive against whose exactions they had cause to
complain.
After some discussion, therefore, a guarded sanction was given to
Beliani's appointment. It was probable that each man in the Council had
already been approached in the Greek's behalf, and that the protests
uttered were rather by way of safety valves in view of possible
criticism in the future than intended to exclude this dreaded candidate
from office.
The matter might have ended there for the moment had not the President
of the Assembly given a somewhat maladroit twist to the discussion when
the King mentioned Beliani's efforts with regard to an Austrian loan.
"That, at least, we should oppose most bitterly," said Nesimir. "We of
the Balkans should never accept favors from the hand of Austria. Our
true ally is Russia, and any outside aid received by Kosnovia should
come from Russia alone."
Alec had learned the value of patience with mediocrities such as Sergius
Nesimir. He never argued with them. He contented himself with pointing
out the facts, and left the rest to time; for he had soon discovered
that the weak man talks himself into agreement with the strong one.
"I would remind you that in this matter we are merely entering into an
ordinary business arrangement," he said. "I have heard of no concessions
attached to the loan. We are merely going into the money market like any
other borrower, and will undertake to pay such reasonable interest as
the lenders deem compatible with the security we offer."
"I think your Majesty will find that Austria will impose her own terms,"
persisted the President.
"Why do you harp on Austria in this connection?" asked the King.
"Monsieur Beliani spoke of Viennese bankers. They are not Austria. This
loan is not so much a matter of State as of sound finance."
"I hope your Majesty is right in that assumption," was the stubborn
answer; "but I have reason to believe that, under certain contingencies,
not only would Russia assist us in this respect, but she would at once
take steps toward recognizing your Majesty's accession to the throne."
"Contingencies!" cried Alec, forced for the nonce to maintain the
discussion. "What are they? What is the difference between your
suspected Austrian terms and your Russian contingencies?"
"In the first place, your Majesty, Russia is anxious to consolidate the
good feeling that exists among the Slav nations by following a settled
policy in the matter of railway communication. Your Majesty's own
projects favor the Russian proposals, whereas Austria will surely
stipulate that any money of hers expended on railways shall be devoted
to her rival plans. In the second----"
The President paused and looked round among his colleagues as though to
seek their encouragement. He knew he was about to utter words of daring
significance, and his nerve failed. An appreciative murmur ran through
the room. It seemed to give the stout President a degree of confidence.
"Well?" said the King, who noted the glance and the hum of approval, and
wondered what lay behind it all.
"The really vital question before us to-day is your Majesty's
marriage," exclaimed the other, paling somewhat, now that the fateful
topic was broached.
"I agree with you," said Alec, smiling. "Its importance to myself is
self evident; but I fail utterly to see how the appearance of a Queen in
Delgratz will affect our political relations with our neighbors. I do
not propose to borrow money from Austria to pay for my wife's wedding
presents."
Nesimir was long in answering. He seemed to be waiting for some other
member of the Council to take part in the discussion; but each man sat
silent and embarrassed, and it was incumbent on their leader to declare
himself anew.
"It is far from my thoughts to wish to give any offense to your Majesty;
but I am constrained to tell you," he said, "that there is a growing
sentiment among all classes of your subjects that when you look for a
consort you should seek her among our kith and kin."
"Am I to understand, then, that the lady whom I am about to marry has
not found favor among you?"
Alec spoke quietly; but there was a ring of steel in his voice that
might have warned a bolder man than the President. His stern glance
traveled round the Council table; but he saw only downcast and somber
faces. One thing was abundantly clear,--this attack on Joan was
premeditated. He wondered who had contrived it.
"It is not that the lady does not command our favor," declared the
spokesman, very pale now and drumming nervously with his fingers on the
edge of a blotting pad. "Those of us who have met her are charmed with
her manners and appearance, and our only regret is that Providence did
not ordain that her birthplace should be on the right side of the
Danube."
"Oddly enough, I was born in New York," interrupted Alec, with a touch
of sarcasm that was not lost on his hearers.
"Your Majesty was born a Delgrado," said the President, "and if Miss
Joan Vernon could claim even the remotest family connection with one of
the leading houses of Kosnovia, Montenegro, or even Bulgaria, every man
here would hail your Majesty's choice in a chorus of approval."
"Since when has the supposed drawback of my intended wife's nationality
come into such prominence?" demanded the King sharply.
"Since it became known that your Majesty meant to marry a lady whose
avowed object in coming to Delgratz was to follow her occupation as an
artist."
Stampoff's harsh accents broke in roughly on a discussion which had
hitherto been marked by polite deference on the part of its originator.
"What! are you too against me, General?" cried Alec, wheeling round and
meeting the fierce eyes of the old patriot who sat glaring at him across
the Council table.
"Yes, in that matter," was the uncompromising answer. "We feel that our
King must be one of ourselves, and he can never be that if his wife
differs from us in race, in language, in religion, in everything that
knits a ruler to his subjects."
Alec arose with a good natured laugh. "Monsieur Nesimir spoke of
contingencies," he said, "and the word seems to imply that counter
proposals to those of Monsieur Beliani have already been put forward.
Has the Russian Ambassador been conducting negotiations with my
Ministers without my knowledge--behind my back, as it were?"
"There is no taint of Muscovite intrigue about my attitude!" exclaimed
Stampoff with a vehemence that showed how deeply he was moved. "I have
given the best years of my life to my country, and I am too old now to
be forced to act against my principles. Every man in this room is a
Slav, and we Slavs must pull together or we are lost. I, at any rate, am
not afraid to register an emphatic protest against my King's marriage
with a lady, no matter how estimable personally, whose presence in
Delgratz as our Queen would be a national calamity. If I speak strongly,
it is because I feel so strongly in this matter. The rulers of States
such as ours cannot afford to be swayed by sentiment. When your Majesty
weds, you ought to choose your wife among the Princesses of Montenegro.
Had I the slightest inkling of any other design on your part, I should
have stipulated this before we left Paris."
"Ah," said Alec thoughtfully, "it is too late now, General, to talk of
stipulations that were not made. And, indeed, one might reasonably ask
who empowered you to make them?"
"God's bones! who should speak for Kosnovia if not I?"
"Your patriotism has never been questioned, General," said Alec with a
friendly smile; but Stampoff was not to be placated, being of the fiery
type of reformer who refuses to listen to any opinion that runs counter
to his own.
He too rose and faced the Council. "What has palsied your tongues?" he
cried. "You were all ready enough to declare your convictions before the
King arrived. He is here now. Tell him, then, do you approve of his
proposed marriage--yes or no!"
Heads were shaken. A few cried "No." Alec saw clearly that he could not
count on the support of one among those present. He did not shirk the
issue. He determined that it should be dealt with at once if possible.
If not, he had already decided on his own line of action.
"I am sorry that in such a matter, affecting, as it does, the whole of
my future life," he said, "I should be so completely at variance with
what is evidently the common view of my trusted friends in this Council;
but I cannot forget that, for good or ill, I am King of Kosnovia, while
you may rest assured, gentlemen, that no consideration you can urge will
prevent me from marrying the lady of my choice. Of course, it is
conceivable that my kingship and my marriage may clash. In that event I
shall take the consequences of my action; I must even justify myself to
the Assembly, if need be. It is well that the President should have made
me acquainted with the views you all hold with such apparent unanimity.
It is also well that you should be aware of my decision. Very often,
when men think they have reached absolute disagreement, a way opens
itself unexpectedly whereby the difficulties vanish. In this instance,
certainly, it is hard to see how any solution of our dispute can be
attained that shall satisfy both you and me.
"I shall marry Miss Vernon, probably within a fortnight. I shall marry
her, gentlemen, even though it costs me my throne; but I would remind
you that we in this room are not Kosnovia. Let us keep our heads and
guard our tempers. If an appeal is to be made to the nation, let it be
by votes rather than by swords. I have never deviated from my fixed
principle that I would sooner pass the remainder of my life poor and
unknown than obtain an hour's extension of my rule by spilling the blood
of an unoffending people. But I ask from you the same concession that I
am willing to make myself. Until deposed, I retain the privilege of a
King. Is this matter to be regarded as a test of ministerial confidence?
Do all you gentlemen resign your portfolios?"
The President, agitated and stuttering, sprang to his feet. "For my
part," he declared, "I expressed my views in an informal manner."
"Yes, yes," agreed several voices. The turn given to the discussion by
Alec was quite unforeseen and far from their liking.
"It has ever been your Majesty's wish that we should state our opinions
fully and freely," continued the agitated Nesimir. "I, for one, was only
anxious to make known to you the sentiments that obtain currency in my
own circle. I may be wrong. Delgratz is not Kosnovia----"
"Rubbish!" shouted Stampoff, hammering the table with a clenched fist.
"That which has been said here to-day will be heard openly in the
streets of the capital to-night. To-morrow it will be preached far and
wide throughout the confines of the country by every man who has its
welfare at heart. This marriage must not take place, I say! I came here
from exile with the King and was prepared to give my life to establish
him on the throne. I am prepared now to offer the same poor sacrifice if
it will save my beloved land from a catastrophe--and this proposed
mesalliance is nothing less!"
A curious thrill convulsed the Council. Every Serb there was stirred by
the General's bold avowal; but Alec stilled the rising storm by a calm
announcement:
"I suggest that we defer this discussion till to-morrow morning," he
said. "It has found me unprepared, and, if I am not very much mistaken,
many of the gentlemen here did not anticipate that the question would be
raised to-day in its present acute form."
It was evident that the majority of ministers favored the adoption of
the King's proposal; but Stampoff scowled at them angrily and drowned
their timorous agreement by his resentful cry:
"God's bones! Why wait till to-morrow?"
Then, indeed, Alec was stung beyond endurance. "Perhaps, in the
circumstances, General," he said, "it would be advisable that you should
absent yourself from to-morrow's Council."
"Not while I am Minister for War!" came the fiery response.
"That is for you to decide," said the King.
"Then I decide now! I resign!"
"Excellent! By that means you salve your conscience; whereas I hope
still to retain the friendship of Kosnovia's most faithful son by
refusing to accept your resignation."
A shout of applause drowned Stampoff's vehement protest, and Alec seized
the opportunity to hurry from the Council chamber. He did not try to
conceal from himself the serious nature of this unexpected crisis,
though he was far from acknowledging that the people at large attached
such significance to his wife's nationality as Stampoff and the others
professed to believe. Puzzle his wits as he might, and did, he failed
utterly to account for Stampoff's uncompromising tone. The old Serb and
he were the best of friends. He had taken no single step without first
consulting the man who had been his political tutor since his boyhood.
Even when he ran counter to Stampoff's advice, he had always listened to
it eagerly, and he invariably took the utmost pains to show why he had
adopted another course.
Till that day there had never been the shadow of a breach between them.
How, then, was the War Minister's irreconcilable attitude to be
explained? Was Cousin Julius pulling the strings in some unrecognized
manner? Was Beliani a party to the scheme? These questions must be
answered, and speedily. Meanwhile, by hook or by crook, he must keep all
knowledge of the dispute from Joan's ears until after the wedding.
In the palace courtyard a man standing near the gates tried to pass the
sentries when the King arrived. He was instantly collared. Undersized,
poorly clad, and poverty stricken in appearance, he was hustled
unmercifully by a stalwart Albanian policeman until Alec's attention was
drawn to the scuffle.
A white despairing face became visible for a moment, and a choking voice
cried, "Save me, your Majesty! I am John Sobieski!"
"Sobieski!" thought Alec, ordering his carriage to stop and alighting
quickly. "That is the Polish hotel waiter of whom Felix spoke to me some
few days ago. He said the man had done his best to bring assistance; but
his efforts were frustrated by some stupid blunder here, and he thought
something ought to be done for him. I promised to attend to it; but the
thing slipped my mind."
By this time he had reached the policeman, who, assisted by a soldier,
was dragging the protesting waiter to the guardroom.
"Release that man!" he said.
The man saluted, and the trembling Sobieski fell on his knees on the
pavement.
"Oh, get up," said the King, who felt a special aversion to such a
display of abasement. "Recover your wits, man, and tell me what you
want!"
"I ask protection, your Majesty," murmured the desperate Sobieski. "My
life is in danger. I came here to see Monsieur Poluski; but they told me
he was not at home. I have been turned out of my situation; so I have
nowhere to go. If I am found wandering in the streets to-night, I shall
be killed."
"At any rate, you seem to be thoroughly frightened," cried Alec with a
reassuring smile. "Take charge of him," he said to the pandur, "and have
him sent to my bureau in five minutes!"
The bureau in question was that apartment on the first floor overlooking
the courtyard, in which Alec had preferred his claim to the throne of
Kosnovia to the perplexed President of the embryo Republic. It was
there, too, that Felix Poluski had spoken those plain words to Prince
Michael Delgrado, and its situation was so convenient for the King's
daily comings and goings that he had utilized it temporarily as an
office and private audience chamber.
At the top of the stairs he happened to catch sight of Pauline, Joan's
staid looking maid. Though he obtained only a casual glimpse of her, he
fancied that she was distressed about something, and it occurred to him
after he was in the room and the door was closed that perhaps she wished
to give him a message. Bosko, the taciturn Albanian whom he had now
definitely appointed as his confidential attendant, was standing near
the table with a bundle of documents that demanded the King's signature.
Realizing that the Frenchwoman would meet Bosko in a minute or two when
he went out with the signed papers, and could then make known her wish
to speak to the King if such was her intention, Alec bent over the table
and began to peruse several departmental decrees hurriedly. He made it a
rule never to append his name to any State paper without mastering its
contents, and one of the palace guards brought in Sobieski before Alec
had concluded his self imposed task. As it happened, the various items
were mere formalities, and when he wrote "Alexis R." for the last time,
Bosko and the soldier left the room, and the frightened little Pole
found himself alone with the King.
"Now," said Alec kindly, "tell me what you want and why you are so
afraid?"
Sobieski at once plunged into a rambling statement. He spoke the
Kosnovian language with the fluent inaccuracy of his class; but Alec's
alert ears had no difficulty in following his meaning. His story was
that several customers of the cafe had denounced him to the proprietor
as a spy in the King's service, while some of them went so far as to
charge him with responsibility for the deaths of those thirty-one
heroes of the Seventh Regiment whose bodies had been found on the stairs
and first floor landing of the hotel. His master had no option but to
discharge him, and Sobieski felt that he had good reason to fear that
his life was in danger. Alec pooh-poohed the notion; but the timid
little waiter was so woebegone that the King pitied him.
"Tell me exactly what you did on the day of the revolt," he said. "You
came here, I understand. How was it that no one listened to you?"
"Oh, they did, your Majesty," protested Sobieski. "Your Majesty's own
father brought me into the hall and kept me there nearly five minutes.
He did not believe a word I said, and was very angry with me for
bringing such an alarming story to the palace. At last, by good fortune,
Monsieur Nesimir appeared; but even then I should have been taken away
in custody if Monsieur Poluski had not caused me to be released."
Despite its sinister significance, Alec could not choose but credit this
amazing statement. He wondered why Felix had not told him the facts in
detail afterward; but he knew that the hunchback's mind worked in
strange grooves, and it was probable that his silence was dictated by
some powerful motive. In any event, the incident was an unpleasant
reminder of certain nebulous doubts that he had striven to crush, and it
was better that this scared rabbit of a man should not remain in
Delgratz and become the victim of some vendetta which might bring the
whole odd story into prominence.
"You want to leave the city, I take it?" said he after a thoughtful
pause, in which he took a slow turn up and down the room.
"I dare not remain here any longer, your Majesty. I came to-night to ask
Monsieur Poluski to be good enough to give me money to take me to
Warsaw."
"I think," said Alec, smiling, "he promised you, in my name, the
wherewithal to buy a cafe."
"I fear I did not earn my reward, your Majesty," stuttered the other.
"Are cafes dear in Warsaw?" said the King, unlocking a drawer and
producing roubles to the equivalent of five hundred dollars. "Here, this
sum should give you a fresh start in life. All I ask in return is that
you shall keep a still tongue about your recent share in local events."
Poor Sobieski's gratitude grew incoherent, especially when the King
handed him over to the care of the attendant who had brought him to the
bureau, with instructions that he was to be taken to the railway station
and safeguarded there till the departure of the next train that crossed
the frontier.
By that time the dinner hour was long past. Alec was disinclined for a
heavy meal; so he went to his private suite, where he changed his
clothes, contenting himself with some sandwiches, which he ate in a
hurry and washed down with a glass of red wine.
Coming down stairs about an hour later, he passed the smoking-room. The
door was open, and he saw that the men had already ended dinner. He was
about to enter the music salon, to which his mother and Joan usually
retired with the President's wife and daughter, when he met Pauline for
the second time, and the Frenchwoman now approached him with the same
marked nervousness in her demeanor that he had noticed when he saw her
standing in the lobby.
"May I have a word with your Majesty in private?" she asked.
He was surprised; but again he believed she was probably bringing a
message from Joan. He threw open the door of his office. "Come in here,"
he said. "What is it?"
She held out a letter, and he saw that her hand shook. "Mademoiselle
asked me to give you this, your Majesty," she said. "I was to take care
that you were alone when you received it."
"Something important then," he said with a laugh.
Crossing the room to the table on which stood the lamp by whose light he
had scribbled "Alexis R." on the papers intrusted to Bosko, he opened
the envelop, which bore in Joan's handwriting the simple superscription,
"Alec," and began to read:
MY DEAR ONE:--When Pauline gives you this, I shall have left you
forever. I am going from Delgratz, and I shall never see you again.
I cannot marry you--but oh, my dear, my dear, I shall love you all
my life! Try and forget me. I am acting for the best. Do not write
to Paris or endeavor to find me. If it is God's will, we shall
never meet again. I can scarcely see what I am writing for my
tears. So good-by, my Alec! Be brave! Forgive me, and, in the years
to come, try to forget our few days of happiness together.
Yours ever,
JOAN.
He stood there stricken, almost paralyzed with the suddenness of the
blow, wondering dumbly why Joan's hand should have inflicted it. The
frightened Frenchwoman dared not speak or move. She watched him with
that impersonal fear so readily aroused in one of her class by the
terrifying spectacle of a strong man in his agony. At last he moved
listlessly, as though his limbs had just been released from the rack. He
held the letter under the lamp again and read it a second time, word for
word. He seemed to be forcing himself to accept it as truth. This young
King, so valiant, so resourceful, so prompt in action and judgment,
could devise no plan, no means of rescue from the abyss. After an
interval that neither the man nor the woman could measure, he turned his
strained, staring eyes on the shrinking Pauline.
"Have I ever done you any harm?" he said in the low voice of utmost
despair.
"Me, monsieur?" she gasped. "You harm me? No, indeed, I was only too
proud to think my dear mistress should have won such a husband."
"Then you will answer my questions truly," he went on, his eyes
devouring the woman's homely features as though he would fain seek some
comfort therein.
"Oh yes, indeed, monsieur. Ask me anything. It is not that I have much
to tell. Mademoiselle said, 'Give this letter to the King himself. Let
it touch no other hand.' That is all, monsieur. She was weeping when she
wrote it. Monsieur Poluski told me what to do to-morrow about my own
journey. See, here are my tickets."
"Poluski!" said Alec, and the words came dully. "Has he too betrayed
me?"
"He has gone with my mistress," sobbed Pauline. "It is not that they
have betrayed you, monsieur; for mademoiselle looked like to die, and I
have never seen any one more disturbed than Monsieur Poluski. He raved
like a maniac when I asked him for one word of explanation."
"But what does it mean, woman? Do you understand what has happened? My
promised wife has fled, bidding me not to dream of seeing her again, and
with her has gone one of the few men alive in whom I had confidence.
What is that but betrayal?"
"I do not profess to understand the ways of courts, monsieur," said
Pauline, gathering a little courage, since the King appealed to her as a
fellow mortal. "But in your case I do not think I should blame
Mademoiselle Joan. She did not go because she had ceased to love you,
monsieur. Sometimes a woman can love a man so well that she will leave
him if she thinks it is for his good."
A light broke in on the darkness. Was Joan the victim of some deadly
intrigue such as had sullied too often the records of the Kosnovian
monarchy? How strange it was that he should come from that eventful
meeting of the Cabinet and receive within the hour Joan's pathetic
message of farewell! He stood and thought deeply again for many minutes,
striving to conquer his laboring heart and throbbing brain, exerting
manfully all his splendid resources of mind and body. Then he turned to
the trembling Frenchwoman and said with almost uncanny gentleness:
"You have done what your mistress asked, Pauline. Come to me to-morrow
before you go, and I will reward you for your faithful service. Leave me
now; but tell none what has happened. I must have time to think, and it
would help me if no other person in this house but you shares with me
the knowledge of mademoiselle's departure."
Pauline went out, glad of her dismissal, yet sobbing with sympathy. Alec
began to pace the length of the long dimly lighted room. Back and forth
he went, thinking, knitting his brows in fierce effort to subdue his
stunned faculties. By degrees the sad significance of Joan's words and
actions during their visit that morning to the New Konak began to
establish itself. He saw now that she was bidding farewell to her dream
of happiness, deliberately torturing herself with a burden of memories.
Even their parting kiss must have given her a twinge of direst agony;
for the one thing he would never believe of Joan was that she had
sacrificed him to some feminine whim, made him the sport of a woman's
caprice.
She had been driven from him! By whom? He must discover that, and he
gloated with almost insensate rage at the thought of strangling with his
hands the wretch who had done this callous deed. Physical passion
mastered him again, and it was not until he realized the folly of merely
dreaming of vengeance that he forced himself anew into a semblance of
calm. He knew that a man blinded with rage could not deal sanely with
this problem of love and statecraft. At first he thought of questioning
individually each person who, by the remotest chance, might be
responsible for Joan's flight. But not only did his impatient heart
spurn that slower method of inquisition; but he realized that he was
more likely to discover the truth by gathering instantly in one room all
those persons whose self interest pointed to his undoing. Somehow,
Sobieski's disjointed narrative aroused a dreadful suspicion that was
not to be quelled.
He summoned an attendant. "Ask Prince and Princess Delgrado to come
here," he said. "Send to General Stampoff and tell him that the King
urgently desires his presence. I believe that Monsieur Beliani and Count
Julius Marulitch are in the smoking-room with Monsieur Nesimir. Ask
those three gentlemen also to join me."
The attendant saluted and withdrew. Alec examined the door to make sure
that the key was in the lock. Hardly conscious of his own purpose, he
looked about for a weapon. In the place of honor, above the fireplace,
hung the sword given him by his father in the Rue Boissiere. It evoked
bitter memories, and he swung on his heel with a curse, going to the
window and staring out into the night. His brain seethed with strange
imaginings, and his breast was on fire. The sight of that ridiculous
sword lying in its sheath of velvet and gold seemed to reveal the
hollowness of life, its mock tragedies, its real agony of tears. All at
once the impulse seized him to look at the bright steel. With a savage
laugh he sprang back across the room and took down the sword. The blade
leaped forth at his clutch, and he kissed it in a frenzy.
"You weep, my Joan," he cried. "I know that you weep; but your tempter's
lying heart shall shed drop for drop!"