THE JAGUAR
In all an Englishman's wonder and impatience at so intolerable a system
of surveillance, I made my way back to the palace.
The dance was in full swing again. In the crowd I could not for the
moment see any one of my three friends. The King was on a daïs chatting
in animated fashion to a group standing round him. His daughter, the
Princess Casilde, presently came out of the throng of dancers, and sat
beside him, joining laughingly in the conversation. I saw the great
cavalry swell, the Master of the Horse, Von Orsova, waltzing with a
plain-looking girl, and was just wondering what sort of a soldier's
heart beat beneath that glorious tunic, when Von Lindheim came up.
"Lindheim," I said, "a queer thing happened after you fellows left me
just now."
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking grave, though he tried to smile.
"I was passing through the wood by the chapel when a fellow accosted
me, and----"
He stopped me. "Hush, for Heaven's sake. Here! Come in here and tell
me. How do you like the new decoration?" he went on in a louder tone,
with a wave of the hand towards the ceiling and walls; "this is only
the second time the Saal has been used since the scaffolding came down.
It was closed all the spring."
His extraordinary change of tone and subject led me for a moment to
wonder whether he had not been paying too assiduous court to the Royal
champagne: then I concluded that it was a blind. Talking on commonplace
subjects, we sauntered across the adjoining music-saal, thence to a
deserted room, one of the great suite of state apartments.
"Now," he said, lowering his voice and speaking anxiously, "tell me
what happened."
I told him. His face grew graver and whiter every moment. "What does it
mean?" I said. "Is it officialism gone mad?"
"Worse than that," he replied. "I cannot tell you. Only for your life,
for the lives of all of us, don't breathe a word of it--not even to
yourself."
I looked at him inquisitively, and indeed my curiosity was greater than
my concern. "Is there any danger," I asked, "in my inquiring the name
of the fellow who honoured me with the cross-examination?"
"Do for Heaven's sake dismiss the whole affair," Von Lindheim answered
impatiently. "Don't think we have done anything wrong," he added
quickly; "it is less and yet worse than that. Our only chance is that
we were not recognized."
They had been, of course, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say
so, but I checked myself, thinking I would not add to his uneasiness,
unreasonable as it seemed. There I made a great mistake, as the story
will show.
"We had better get back to the ball-room," my friend said nervously.
"Do you know there are said to be twenty thousand separate pieces in
that great chandelier? It is one of the most elaborate specimens of
glass work in the world."
My inspection of this interesting piece of work was cut short by Von
Lindheim's directing my attention, in an equally abrupt manner, to a
specimen of Nature's handicraft far more engaging.
"Here," he said, "let me introduce you to Fräulein Asta von
Winterstein. She is one of the Maids of Honour, and the most charming
girl in Buyda."
The Fräulein's looks decidedly confirmed his words; a merry-looking
girl, with a lovely face, and that air of youth and spirits which is so
eloquent of the _joie de vivre_.
"You are fortunate in getting a dance with Fräulein von Winterstein,"
Lindheim said.
"I am only just off duty," she laughed, "and my card is a blank."
I was beginning a complimentary remark when my friend said, "Excuse
my depriving you of five seconds of the Fräulein's society, my dear
Tyrrell, but I have a message to give her."
They drew aside and I waited. Happening to glance at them I noticed
that a cloud had come over the girl's face; both looked grave as they
spoke in an undertone, then the girl's natural animation returned, and
with a few laughing words to Von Lindheim, she left him and came to me.
A swinging waltz was being played and we took several turns. When we
stopped I remarked:
"Our friend, Von Lindheim, seems worried about something, I'm afraid he
takes officialism too seriously."
"An Englishman cannot understand the peculiarities of our life here."
I was rather tired of being told that, albeit rather glad of my
ignorance. Still, I did not mind the adage from this girl; she was
breezy and sensible, and determined not to be too insular with respect
to Buyda officialism.
"Don't you admire the Princess?" my partner asked.
"She is very pretty."
"Every one thinks her lovely."
"She is not the only belle in the room."
"Hush!--Luckily; for she is out of reach."
"Naturally. Herr Rittmeister von Orsova is a fine specimen of a man."
"You are the genius of indiscretion. A splendid fellow."
"I hope he is all through alike, and that the grit and pluck correspond
to the spectacular part of the show."
"Why should you doubt it?"
"I don't for a moment. Only Nature does sometimes send out inferior
goods in smart cases."
"He is as brave as he is handsome."
"Good! Oh, by----!"
"What is the matter?"
I had stopped in the waltz, with the result that the next couple
cannoned against us severely. The reason of my sudden pull-up was
something which in the whirl had passed my eye.
Bending over the daïs in close conversation with the King was a man
whom I had not observed there before. And that man's was the face I
had seen peering into the chapel window. The expression was altered
now, but the face was the same, one never to be mistaken or forgotten,
a face curiously striking in its suggestion of immense power and
indomitable will, yet ugly almost to repulsiveness.
"Who is that?" I asked eagerly. "That man talking to the King?"
The girl looked at me curiously. "Surely you know him, at least by
sight. No? Why, that is our great Chancellor, Graf von Rallenstein."