WHAT THE DUKE MEANT
"There is always this about chess," said his Excellency, when I had
taken my place opposite to him; "you cannot play it unless you detach
your thoughts from all other matters."
"I don't wish to detach mine," I returned.
"Then I shall certainly beat you; for I intend to detach mine, at all
events for a few moves. Now study this position;" and he insisted on
talking chess for some minutes, and then we played. Gradually the
fascination which the game always had laid hold of me, and,
concentrating my thoughts upon it, I began to play very carefully,
until I caught my old friend's eyes studying my face instead of the
game.
"I think you are playing earnestly now, so that we may as well stop and
talk. While I light a cigar, think back to your conversation, and then
tell me your impressions."
He was unusually deliberate in choosing and lighting his cigar, and
leaving the chess table threw himself into an easy lounge chair and
smoked for a while in silence.
"Well--what are the impressions?"
"You have disturbed them and me," I replied.
"Intentionally."
"Just as you intentionally misled me about your 'old comrade'."
"He made me do that; but I knew you would see through it; and I had no
scruple."
"But _he_ was surprised when I told him who he was."
"No man likes to have his incognito fail him. But your impressions."
"I think he will do what he said--and what I wish. You know what he
promised?
"Oh yes, that of course."
"He did not come prepared to do it."
"No. You have made another convert, Christabel. He is charmed with
you. You are a wonderful little lady."
"I did not exert many charms. I was just as hard as a stone, and then
said things that made him look as if he would gladly have taken me by
the throat with those talon hands of his."
"It was that daring of yours that won him round. I don't know all you
said; but from what he told me, I should think he was never spoken to
in such a way before by man or woman--or child; for you are really
little more than a child."
"What do you think he meant to do in coming here?" I asked.
"That was what made me so thoughtful during dinner."
"You are keeping something from me."
"I?"
"Well, you mean that _he_ is?"
"I know him. It would be very remarkable if he were not."
"But you agree that he will do as he promised?"
"'I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts,'" he quoted again. "At
least, I should if I were you. His influence is great; and in a week
or so I should think you will be Countess Melnik. I don't think
anything you can ask him for will be refused. You will be as much
honoured as your father was the reverse."
"The scent is too cold. I do not understand," I said, after a pause.
"You are not meant to--nor will it affect you. You have been
threatening a good many plans, little lady. I like to see you at
fault. It is a rare pleasure."
"It cannot be about Colonel Katona's daughter. If he knows of that he
knows what I told Count Gustav. He will not deem me likely to desert
her. Yes, I am at fault."
"You have not told me yet what passed at that house where I found you
to-day."
I told him everything, except as to what had passed between Karl and
myself.
"It is all grave enough," he said. "A secret is very much like
dynamite--unless there is great care, the explosion may hurt the
holder. I have told you often enough how great a favourite Count
Gustav is; not with his father only, but with us all."
"'Us'?" I repeated.
"I am one of the Patriots. Count Karl lacks both force in himself and
support outside."
"He is not understood."
His Excellency's eyes brightened. "Is that why you have not told me
what you and he may have said to one another?"
I felt the colour steal up into my cheeks. "It was not necessary."
"No, Christabel, that is just the word--not necessary." He glanced at
his watch. "Dear me, it is quite late. I must send you to bed."
"You have not shown me the scent," I cried, with a little shrug of
irritation; as I began to pack away the chessmen.
He regarded me with the old amused twinkle in his eyes, and then with a
glance at the chess-board, a thought struck him and he crossed to me.
"You are fond of chess problems, by the way. I'll set you one."
He swept all the black pieces off the board except the king and one
pawn, and then left the white king and five white pawns, two of the
latter so placed that but one move for each was necessary for them to
become queens.
"Could you win that game if you were white?" he asked.
"It is but childish; of course these pawns become queens."
"Exactly. In chess any pawn that can get far enough can be a
queen--but not in life, you know. Good-night, Christabel."
I scarcely heard his good-night, but sat staring down at the little
pieces where he had placed them.
"You think that any such thing was in his thoughts?"
"What I think is--that orange-blossoms have a very charming scent,
Christabel, and Count Gustav is the hope of the Patriots. Again,
good-night, child. You have won your victory--by your own wits mainly,
although other things have been fighting for you. Go to bed and dream
of it, and remember--the first obligation of a conqueror is
magnanimity. No--no more to-night, child, except--God bless you and
give you happiness."
I lay a long time thinking over the events of that full day, and
wrestling with the problem which his Excellency's last words had set
me: "The first obligation of a conqueror is magnanimity."
So that was the secret. I had won in the struggle. Not only was my
father's fame to be righted, but I was to be honoured, not from any
recognition of justice, but in order that I might be a fit wife for a
duke's son.
Then I was to be "magnanimous," too; which meant that I was to consent
to acquiesce in the family arrangement by which Karl was to be set
aside in favour of Gustav; and to cease all my efforts against him.
I had beaten them in all other respects; and now they had seized upon
Karl's old feelings for me, and had somehow divined mine for him; and
the two were made the subject-matter of this new bribery-bargain.
The shame of it made my cheeks burn and flush in the darkness; and I
winced and cowered at the humiliation as the bitter thoughts crowded
thick and fast upon me. I recalled what had passed between the Duke
and me, and reading it all now by the light of this later knowledge, my
pride was stabbed and pierced by a hundred poisoned darts that rankled
and festered with cruel pain.
He had come to view me as a possible wife for the son whom he designed
to disinherit! My love for Karl was to be made a stake in the game of
injustice he would play! I was to be tossed to Karl as a sort of
compensation for his wrongs; and I was to be "honoured" that I might be
duly rendered fit for the position! The show of reparation to my
father was a mere sham and pretence to tinsel another wrong! My duty
to the dead, the solemn charge laid upon me, was to be a lever to force
me to consent to it! And this was my victory!
Is it to be wondered at that the ashes gritted my teeth; that in my hot
indignation, I spurned the whole transaction as base and ignoble, and
that I vowed rather to forego my supreme purpose than gain it at such a
price. My father's honour was dear to me; but he would never have me
win it for him at the price of my own.
The whole bargain was dishonourable alike to the dead and to me; and
the mere proposal should harden my heart and stiffen my resolve to go
through with my task in my own way.
I grew less passionate when I had settled this resolve firmly; and was
able to reflect upon the probable result of the Duke's intention to my
plans. They were now in danger of being badly broken up. If he kept
his word and sent Count Gustav to me with what he had termed the
written confirmation of his promise, it was clear that the scene I had
planned to take place at my house would be prevented.
The Count could not be in both places at once; but would he come to me,
if James Perry played his part well? I had to risk everything on my
judgment of his action. Long and anxiously I weighed that problem; and
at length decided he would not come to me, if once he was persuaded
that he could get hold of Gareth in despite of me.
He knew that she was the key to everything for me. If he could whisk
her away from my care, my power over him was gone. I might accuse him
to Colonel Katona as the man who had wronged her; but if she was
bestowed safely in his charge, he could laugh at the accusation, and
could challenge me safely to produce any proofs of it.
Moreover, I had so planned that he would feel safe in testing the truth
of the story which James Perry would tell him; and would see that if he
found it false, he could still come to the meeting, scarcely an hour
behind his time. For such a delay, a hundred excuses could be pleaded;
and he was not the man to be at fault for some plausible one.
He would test it, I felt confident. He had everything to gain by doing
so, and nothing to lose. At least so he would reason. Success would
mean all in all; failure no more than the need to invent an excuse.
I determined to go on, therefore; and fell asleep at last in complete
assurance that on the morrow matters would go as I had planned before
the Duke had seen me.
In the morning General von Erlanger greeted me with even more than his
usual kindliness.
"You have not slept well, Christabel," he said. I suppose my face
showed this.
"I had to think."
"What are you going to do? You know all that I meant in what I said at
parting last night?"
"I am going to wait for the meeting at noon."
"And then?"
"If no one comes I shall go away."
"There is of course something behind that. But Count Gustav will come.
His father will see to that."
"Are you against me, too, in this development?"
"I should never be against you. But I wish you to be on our side."
"If I can no longer tell you all that is in my thoughts, do not blame
me. Let us wait for the meeting. I am afraid, if I were to speak,
some of my chagrin might show itself."
He made a gesture of disappointment. "I have lived too long in the
world, Christabel, to look for either schemes or counsels of
perfection. Life must always be a compromise. I will not counsel you
now; I will only hope."
"That is at least left to us all--even to me in this."
He gave me a sharp look, threw up his head slightly, and said:
"Remember, Count Gustav is necessary to the country."
"It is an unfortunate country, then," I retorted, rather tartly; and we
said no more.
Soon after breakfast James Perry came. He told me that he had written
the letter; and I gave him his final lessons, and said that his father,
who was waiting close at hand--was to take a letter which I had written
to Colonel Katona, and then to be at the door with the carriage for me
at twelve o'clock to the instant.
In the letter to Colonel Katona I merely gave him my address, and said
I would be there within half an hour of midday to meet him and Count
Karl.
When I had arranged those details, I had nothing to do except wait for
the time of the meeting with such patience as I could command.
I did not know that two hours could possibly contain so many weary
dragging minutes as those. I resorted to every device I could think of
to use up the time. I walked up and down the room counting my steps.
I tried to read; only to fling the book away from me. I repeated a
quantity of poetry, from Shakespeare to Walt Whitman. I got the chess
board out and tried problems; only at last to give it all up and just
think and think and think.
At eleven o'clock I went to my bedroom and put on my hat in readiness,
although I was not to leave until an hour later. Then to find
something for my hands to do, I unpacked my trunk and tumbled all my
clothes in a heap; and began refolding and repacking them with
deliberate care.
I was in the midst of this most uninteresting task when a servant
brought a message that General von Erlanger would like to see me.
I bundled everything back into the trunk anyhow and anywhere, locked it
and went down. It was half-past eleven by the great hall clock as I
crossed to the library. James Perry was just about making his entrance
as traitor.
His Excellency was fingering a letter as I went in.
"I am anxious to have a last talk with you before Count Gustav comes,
Christabel. There are some things I wish you to see quite plainly."
"We have only half an hour," said I.
"No, we may have longer. I have a line from the Count to say that an
unexpected but very pressing engagement may prevent his being quite
punctual; and he begs me to explain this to you."
"Oh, General, what perfectly glorious marguerites!" I exclaimed,
enthusiastically, turning to point to the flowers in the garden, lest
he should see my face and read there the effect of his words. Count
Gustav's engagement was with James Perry; and my heart beat fast as I
saw victory ahead.
His Excellency crossed and stood by me. "Yes, they are beautiful. I
pride myself on my marguerites, you know. But--isn't it a little
singular they should appeal to you so strongly at this particular
moment?"
"I love marguerites," I replied, with a smile. I was master of my
features again then.
"So do I. To me they stand for simplicity, truth, trust and candour,
especially between friends--such as, say, you and myself, Christabel."
We exchanged looks; mine smiling; his grave, very gentle, and a little
reproachful.