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TWO ROYAL FOES
By EVA MADDEN
ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE KINNEYS
NEW YORK
THE McCLURE COMPANY
MCMVII
_Copyright, 1907, by The McClure Company_
Published, October, 1907
[Illustration: _Bettina_]
CONTENTS
I. THE MIGHTY FOE
II. THE ANGEL OF PRUSSIA
III. AT JENA
IV. AT THE FOREST HOUSE
V. THE JOURNEY
VI. THE DOWNFALL
VII. ON THE ROAD TO MEMEL
VIII. AMONG FRIENDS
IX. THE STORK'S NEST
X. FRESH TROUBLES
XI. THE MOTHER OF HER PEOPLE
XII. OTTO
XIII. THE JOURNAL
XIV. PRINCESS LOUISA
XV. THE MARRIAGE
XVI. WHAT HAPPENED TO HANS
XVII. AT TILSIT
XVIII. THE ESCAPE
XIX. THE FOES MEET
XX. THE ANSWER
XXI. THE HERR LIEUTENANT
XXII. DAYS OF DARKNESS
XXIII. THE ENTRANCE INTO BERLIN
XXIV. "MY QUEEN, MY POOR QUEEN!"
XXV. AFTERWARDS
XXVI. THE CHECK
XXVII. THE PEOPLE'S WAR
XXVIII. THE FOE CONQUERED
XXIX. THURINGIA
XXX. THE FOES AT REST
ILLUSTRATIONS
BETTINA
"MY DOLLIE IS NAMED ANNA"
"SIRE, WITH MAGDEBURG?"
"I HAVE SOME NEWS TO TELL YOU"
TWO ROYAL FOES
CHAPTER I
THE MIGHTY FOE
One afternoon, a hundred and one years ago, old Hans took little Bettina
to visit her godmother, Frau Schmidt, who lived in a red-roofed house
not far from the old church of St. Michael's in Jena.
Bettina loved to go to Frau Schmidt's. First, there was Wilhelm, her
godmother's son, who was so good to her, and cut her toys out of wood,
and told her all kinds of fine stories. And then there were the
soldiers. They were everywhere, standing in groups about the Market,
marching in companies, or clattering on horses through the never quiet
streets.
The way from Bettina's home to Jena led through a deep, still, green
forest, and as she and her grandfather strolled along that October
afternoon the little girl begged him for a story.
"Ja, ja, my Bettina," and the old man gave her a smile, "there is old
Frederick Barbarossa."
Then, with a "Once upon a time," he told her how, in a cave in their own
Thuringian Wood in the Kyffhaeuser Mountain, an old emperor of Germany
had slept for hundreds and hundreds of years, his head on his elbows,
which rested on a great stone table in the middle of the cavern.
"And his beard, child, has grown down to the floor, and it is red as a
flame, and his hair--it is red, too, quite blazing, child, they
say--wraps about him like a veil. And before the cave and around it--you
can see them yourself, little one, if you go there--are ravens, cawing
and cawing and flying ever in circles."
"And when will the old Emperor wake up, dear grandfather?" Bettina had a
sweet, high little voice which quivered with eagerness. The old man
shook his head.
"No man knows, child," he answered, "but I have heard always that one
day the ravens will flap their wings, caw aloud, and fly forever away
from the mountain. And then," his blue eyes flashed, "the old Kaiser
shall awake; he shall grasp his great sword in his hand and holding it
fast shall come forth from his gloomy old cave to the sunlight."
"And then, dear grandfather, what then?"
"There shall great things be done, dear child." Again his eyes flashed.
"Germany shall stretch herself like the old Redbeard. She, too, is
asleep, and she shall take her sword in her hand and come forth, and we
shall be one people, one great, great Fatherland." The old face grew
dreamy, the voice, very slow.
"And will there always be fighting, dear grandfather?"
Hans shook his head.
"Nein, nein, the old Redbeard is to bring war which shall make peace."
Hans was silent for a moment and then, with a laugh, he lifted a very
full, deep voice and sang an old German song of the same Kaiser
Barbarossa, and when Bettina caught the tune, she sang, too, and the old
forest rang with the music all the way to Jena.
When they entered the town the old man took Bettina almost to the
church.
"Now, little one," he said, "run away to Tante Gretchen and tell her to
keep you until I come after supper."
"Auf wiedersehen, dear grandfather," and off trotted the little girl and
into her godmother's house with a "Good-day, dear Tante Gretchen!"
Wilhelm was at home, and he carved Bettina a little doll, and she
enjoyed herself very much indeed, hearing all about the soldiers and all
that they were doing in Jena, but she was only nine years old and tired
with her walk, and so, when long after supper her grandfather opened the
door, she was fast asleep in her chair, her tired little feet dangling.
Frau Schmidt greeted him crossly.
"Don't excuse yourself, Hans," she said. "You forgot the child, I know
it. Perhaps you have been home and had to come back for her? Nein? Well,
what was it then that kept you? You know, Hans, how anxious her mother
will be, with the child out in the night time."
The old man hung his head. Certainly he had forgotten the child. He was
always forgetting everything and everybody, and some day, as the women
of his family were always telling him, he was certain to have a good
lesson, a lesson, perhaps, which might teach him to remember.
"You are right, Gretchen," he said, "but, you see, my dear woman, when
an old soldier of Frederick the Great meets again the Prussians, there
is much news to hear, isn't there?" And he looked with smiling blue eyes
into Frau Schmidt's kind, plump countenance.
"Well, well," she said, her frown vanishing, "but come now, it's a
dreadful night and you must have a glass of beer before you start out
into the darkness. Willy, uncork the bottle there."
Then she went to Bettina.
"Wake up, Liebchen," and she gave her a tiny shake.
"Is it Frederick Barbarossa?" And Bettina came forth from dreamland.
"Nein, nein, child, it's grandfather," and she wrapped the little girl
in her shawl. "But wake up now. It is late, and time to go home to
mother."
Then she turned to Hans, Bettina's little hand held fast in hers.
"Quick, friend, hurry," she said, "and be off now. The night is terrible
and Annchen will be anxious, will she not?" And she nodded to Wilhelm to
hold the light.
Draining his glass, Hans set it down on the table with a sigh of
pleasure.
"Ja, ja," he said, as he drew closer his cloak.
"A moment," and Frau Schmidt stepped to the tall, green porcelain stove
which served, before firetime, as her storehouse.
"Here," she said, and from one of its little recesses she brought forth
a bundle done up with paper and string.
"Some sausages, please, for Anna," and she gave Hans the package, "and
best greetings."
Then, in her quick, kind way, she hurried them to the door, bundling
Bettina more closely as they went.
"Auf wiedersehen, good-night, good-night," and she held open the door.
"The weather truly is dreadful. Here, Willy, here, my son, hold the
candle higher. Ja, ja, that is better. Can you see, Hans? Good-night,
Bettina. Best greetings to your dear mother, and good-night,
good-night."
"Good-night, dear Tante, good-night, Willy," and Bettina stumbled
sleepily off with her grandfather, Willy calling after her not to let
the Erl King get her.
It was, indeed, a dreadful night. The candle which Wilhelm held high,
standing long in the doorway, made but little impression on a fog which,
wrapping the world in mystery, stung Bettina in the face, choked up her
throat and gave her a queer feeling of having lost even the world
itself.
She drew close to her grandfather and nestled against his side, her hand
seeking his in the darkness.
"Ja, ja, little one," he said, "do not fear, child, grandfather knows
every step of the way."
He might know the way, but he certainly did not know the puddles.
Splash!
Bettina's little wooden shoe went deep into the water.
Bump!
One foot was in a hole, a bush held fast her shawl.
It would be all right when they reached the forest and the path went
straight between the fir trees, but here it was awful.
"Ach Himmel," groaned Hans, splashing and stumbling, "but your mother
will scold, little one! But what could your poor grandfather do? I find
it good that a man hear the war news and, talking with the soldiers, I
forgot the hour."
"Never mind, dear grandfather," came the little voice out of the fog.
"Mother will be in bed and we will slip in, oh, so lightly, just like a
kitty, and she won't hear a sound."
Bettina took care of her grandfather like an old woman, her father
always said, and so she tried to speak very bravely.
She might talk bravely; talking is easy enough even for little Bettinas;
but to feel bravely is quite a different thing and, deep down in her
heart, Bettina was frightened to coldness.
Willy had told her the story of the Erl King who gets children who are
out on wild nights. He promises them toys and all sorts of playthings,
and then when they listen he clasps them in his arms until they are
frozen and dead. And this King has two daughters and they call out
through the storm.
Would he get her, this Erl King?
Little Bettina shivered all over.
From over towards Jena she surely heard a tramp, and sometimes she
seemed to see the waving of the Erl King's mantle in the fog.
But her grandfather kept on with his talking.
"Ja, ja," he said, "we'll beat them, we'll beat them. We'll give the
French a lesson this time, our soldiers all promise it. And that
Corsican--we'll teach him, too. Why not? We Prussians are three to the
French one, and soldiers of Frederick the Great to boot. Ja wohl, little
one, we'll have a famous victory!"
But Bettina was not listening.
While her grandfather had gone on with his talk, her little hand had
grown cold in his clasp, her tongue had become dry, and her back felt as
if water were running down it.
It was the Erl King that was coming, Ach Himmel! she knew it.
There were his two eyes, blazing like great stars through the fog.
Nearer they came, and nearer, and she heard the tramp of his steed, and,
oh, if he called her, not even her grandfather could hold her, Willy had
said so.
Brighter grew the eyes, and brighter.
"Grandfather," she tried to call, but her throat would not move. Nearer
the Erl King came, and between the eyes she saw something great, and
tall, and white, and dreadful. Nearer it came. Nearer! Nearer!
"Ach Himmel!" Her grandfather's voice broke the spell. "But who are
coming?"
Then the two great eyes suddenly turned into torches, and one was held
by the Postmaster of Jena, and the other by a French officer, and
between them the lights showed a white horse, and on its back sat a man
whose eyes seemed to pierce right through the fog and the darkness.
Bettina shrank against her grandfather. The one on the horse frightened
her even as much as if he were the Erl King. Never had she seen such
piercing eyes nor felt so terrified. He was small and stout, and he wore
an overcoat of green with white facings. His hat was folded up front and
back, and his mouth was as beautiful as the rest of his face was hard
and terrifying. But even his beautiful lips seemed to say, "Keep out of
my way, or I shall ride over you."
One firm, strong hand held the bridle of his horse, with the other he
pointed, his whip held fast, through the fog towards the dim outline of
the great old mountain of Dornburg.
When he spoke it was in French. Bettina could not understand him, but
Hans, who, like most Germans of that day, spoke both languages, heard
him say:
"Those Prussians have left the heights. They were afraid," then, with a
laugh of scorn, he interrupted himself, "afraid of the night," he
continued, "and have descended to sleep in the valley. They believe that
we shall not take advantage of their slumber." Again he laughed, and so
disagreeably that Bettina shivered; "but they are dreadfully mistaken,
those old wigs!"
Laughter joined with his, and two horses appeared in his rear and the
torches revealed their riders to be French Marshals in uniform.
But the Postmaster was silent, his face darkening.
As for Hans, he muttered under his breath to Bettina:
"Ach Himmel, but hear him. He calls the generals of Frederick the Great,
'old wigs.'"
"Grandfather," Bettina pulled at him to bend down and listen, "is it the
Erl King? Will he get me?"
"The Erl King?" The old man was completely puzzled. "The one on the
white horse, child, you mean? That, my Bettina, is the Emperor!"
The Emperor! Oh, Heavens! Then, indeed, did Bettina wish that she was
home with her mother. Better the Erl King, better the old witch who got
Hans and Gretel, better any number of cruel step-mothers: better all the
witches, giants and ogres than the dreadful monster everyone called "The
Emperor!"
Only that afternoon had her godmother told Willy that he lived but for
blood, and that Death followed every step of that white horse.
"It would be well for the world if God took him," she had added, and now
this dreadful monster was pointing his whip at her, little Bettina
Weyland, and asking the Postmaster who were these people in his path.
When he had an answer he motioned them to pass quickly. Then,
dismounting, he and his generals proceeded up the hill of Jena.
As Hans and Bettina went on their way his voice followed after, and it
was not pleasant things it said, for it stormed at Marshal Lannes
because his artillery had stuck fast in a gorge. And then Hans heard
something about the Prussians and good-morning.
As for Hans he was hot with fury.
"'Old wigs,'" he kept muttering, "'Old wigs,' indeed! Did you hear him,
the villain, Bettina, call our generals 'old wigs'?"
But Bettina had herself, and not the generals of Prussia, to think of.
"Grandfather," she cried, "grandfather, will the Emperor get us?"
Her grandfather laughed almost merrily,
"Nein, nein, little one," he said. "In a day or two the soldiers of
Frederick the Great will set that white horse scampering back to Paris.
Nein, nein, my little Bettina, there is nothing to fear. But come, here
is our path in the forest. We are safe now, and out of the puddles."
Their home lay on the edge of the deep, green wood, a little red-roofed
forest house with a paved courtyard, with a barn for the cows, and a
garden in front. It was a lovely spot, but a very lonely one, but they
must live there because Bettina's father, Kaspar Weyland, was an under
forester. But just then he was in the army and Frau Weyland was alone
with the children.
Her voice reached them almost as soon as they came out of the deep
forest.
"Father, is that you?" she called. "Father!"
"Ja, ja, dear daughter. Open the door and hear the news."
"God be thanked you have come." And she appeared in the doorway, holding
in one hand a light, and drawing a shawl about her bed-gown with the
other.
"Oh, father, father, how could you?"
She was young and looked like a grown-up Bettina with golden hair
showing under the edges of her nightcap. She shut the door hastily as
they entered.
"Annchen, Annchen," the old man made no excuses, "we have just seen the
Emperor in the fields near Jena."
"The Emperor!" Frau Weyland set down her light. Her father nodding, she
cried out, wringing her hands:
"Ach Gott! Ach Gott! Then, father, we shall have a battle."
The old man shrugged his broad shoulders.
"It may be, daughter," he bent down and kissed her, "but who can tell?
The Prussians, to-day, said not."
Then, sitting in a wooden chair by the table, she, standing and
listening, Bettina's hand in hers, he told all he had heard at Jena and
described their adventures, weary little Bettina sleepily listening. And
he told how the Prussian soldiers had gone early to bed because of the
damp and the fog, and of how they had no cloaks, and how, the bread
giving out, they had been on half rations for some days.
"But their spirits are brave, daughter," he added, "and you never heard
such boasting. They are certain of victory; certain, Anna. Prince
Hohenlohe was with them this afternoon, and he laughed like a boy when a
soldier declared that he would catch one Frenchman, another two, a
third, four, and so on. You never heard such boasting."
Frau Weyland shook her head, her nightcap bobbing.
"Boasting, father, never won a prize yet. It is doing that counts, and
the Emperor was out in such weather, studying the field, and the
Prussians sleeping. Ach, I do not find that promising."
Then suddenly she ran to her father, she clung to him like a child, her
blue eyes gazing up into his like Bettina's.
"Ah, father," her lips quivered, "if there should be a battle and my
Kaspar----"
The old man wrapped her in his strong arms. She was his only child and
the best of daughters.
"There will be a battle, dear Anna," he said quite solemnly; "it is war,
now, and there must be. But why should harm come to Kaspar? Look at
me----"
His eyes began to kindle, and his daughter, who knew what was coming,
loosened his arms and rose.
"Why, in the battle of----"
"Ja, ja, father," Frau Weyland interrupted with a half smile. When her
father began on his battles time might go its way unheeded. "I know, you
have told me. But come now, we have forgotten our little Bettina. She
must at once go to bed. It is late enough, goodness knows."
Then she unpinned Bettina's shawl and shook out the damp.
"Good-night, dear father," she kissed the old man tenderly, "sleep well,
and I'll call you in time in the morning. Oh, the sausage is from
Gretchen? Many thanks and good-night. Come, come, Bettina," and she
started towards her own room.
Her father proceeded in the opposite direction. On the threshold of a
second door he paused.
"Annchen," he called, for his daughter had departed.
"Ja, father," she came back to her door holding Bettina by the hand.
"He called our generals 'old wigs,' 'old wigs,' did you understand,
daughter? The generals of the Great Frederick's army, and he, an upstart
villain of a Corsican. Old wigs, indeed! Let him wait, the monster,
we'll show him, we'll show him."
With a last good-night the old soldier of Frederick the Great departed
to snore away under his feather bed quite the same as if nothing had
happened.