Until late that night General Mettlich and the King talked together.
The King had been lifted from his bed and sat propped in a great chair.
Above his shabby dressing-gown his face showed gaunt and old. In a
straight chair facing him sat his old friend and Chancellor.
“What it has shown is not entirely bad,” said the King, after a pause.
“The boy has initiative. And he made no attempt at evasion. He is
essentially truthful.”
“What it has also shown, sire, is that no protection is enough. When I,
who love the lad, and would--when I could sleep, and let him get away,
as I did--”
“The truth is,” said the King, “we are both of us getting old.” He
tapped with his gnarled fingers on the blanket that lay over his knees.
“The truth is also,” he observed a moment later, “that the boy has very
few pleasures. He is alone a great deal.”
General Mettlich raised his shaggy head. Many years of wearing a
soldier’s cap had not injured his heavy gray hair. He had bristling
eyebrows, white new, and a short, fighting mustache. When he was
irritated, or disagreed with any one, his eyebrows came down and the
mustache went up.
Many years of association with his king had given him the right to talk
to him as man to man. They even quarreled now and then. It was a brave
man who would quarrel with old Ferdinand II.
So now his eyebrows came down and his mustache went up. “How--alone,
sire?”
“You do not regard that bigoted Englishwoman as a companion, do you?”
“He is attached to her.”
“I’m damned if I know why,” observed the old King. “She doesn’t appear
to have a single human quality.”
Human quality! General Mettlich eyed his king with concern. Since when
had the reigning family demanded human qualities in their governesses?
“She is a thoughtful and conscientious woman, sire,” he said stiffly. It
happened that he had selected her. “She does her duty. And as to the boy
being lonely, he has no time to be lonely. His tutors--”
“How old is he?”
“Ten next month.”
The King said nothing for a time. Then--“It is hard,” he said at
last, “for seventy-four to see with the eyes of ten. As for this
afternoon--why in the name of a thousand devils did they take him to see
the ‘Flying Dutchman’? I detest it.”
“Her Royal Highness--”
“Annunciata is a fool,” said His Majesty. Then dismissing his daughter
with a gesture, “We don’t know how to raise our children here,” he said
impatiently. “The English do better. And even the Germans--”
It is not etiquette to lower one’s eyebrows at a king, and glare. But
General Mettlich did it. He was rather a poor subject. “The Germans have
not our problem, sire,” he said, and stuck up his mustache.
“I’m not going to raise the boy a prisoner,” insisted the King
stubbornly. Kings have to be very stubborn about things. So many people
disapprove of the things they want to do.
Suddenly General Mettlich bent forward and placed a hand on the old
man’s knee. “We shall do well, sire,” he said gravely, “to raise the boy
at all.”
There was a short silence, which the King broke. “What is new?”
“We have broken up the University meetings, but I fancy they go on,
in small groups. I was gratified, however, to observe that a group
of students cheered His Royal Highness yesterday as he rode past the
University buildings.”
“Socialism at twenty,” said the King, “is only a symptom of the unrest
of early adolescence. Even Hubert”--he glanced at the picture--“was
touched with it. He accused me, I recall, of being merely an accident, a
sort of stumbling-block in the way of advanced thought!”
He smiled faintly. Then he sighed. “And the others?” he asked.
“The outlying districts are quiet. So, too, is the city. Too quiet,
sire.”
“They are waiting, of course, for my death,” said the King quietly. “If
only, you were twenty years younger than I am, it would be better.” He
fixed the General with shrewd eyes. “What do those asses of doctors say
about me?”
“With care, sire--”
“Come, now. This is no time for evasion.”
“Even at the best, sire--” He looked very ferocious, and cleared his
throat. He was terribly ashamed that his voice was breaking.. “Even at
the best, but of course they can only give an opinion--”
“Six months?”
“A year, sire.”
“And at the worst!” said the King, with a grim smile. Then; following
his own line of, thought: “But the people love the boy, I think.”
“They do. It is for that reason, sire, that I advise particular
caution.” He hesitated. Then, “Sire,” he said earnestly, “there is
something of which I must speak. The Committee of Ten has organized
again.”
Involuntarily the King glanced at the photograph on the table.
“Forgive me, sire, if I waken bitter memories. But I fear--”
“You fear!” said the King. “Since when have you taken to fearing?”
“Nevertheless,” maintained General Mettlich doggedly, “I fear. This quiet
of the last few months alarms me. Dangerous dogs do not bark. I trust no
one. The very air is full of sedition.”
The King twisted his blue-veined old hands together, but his voice was
quiet. “But why?” he demanded, almost fretfully. “If the people are fond
of the boy, and I think they are, to--to carry him off, or injure him,
would hurt the cause. Even the Terrorists, in the name of a republic,
can do nothing without the people.”
“The mob is a curious thing, sire. You have ruled with a strong hand.
Our people know nothing but to obey the dominant voice. The boy out
of the way, the prospect of the Princess Hedwig on the throne, a few
demagogues in the public squares--it would be the end.”
The King leaned back and closed his eyes. His thin, arched nose looked
pinched. His face was gray.
“All this,” he said, “means what? To make the boy a prisoner, to cut off
his few pleasures, and even then, at any time--”
“Yes, sire,” said Mettlich doggedly. “At any time.”
Outside in the anteroom Lieutenant Nikky Larisch roused himself, yawned,
and looked at his watch. It was after twelve, and he had had a hard day.
He put a velvet cushion behind his head, and resolutely composed himself
to slumber, a slumber in which were various rosy dreams, all centered
about the Princess Hedwig. Dreams are beyond our control.
Therefore a young lieutenant running into debt on his pay may without
presumption dream of a princess.
All through the Palace people were sleeping. Prince Ferdinand William
Otto was asleep, and riding again the little car in the Land of Delight.
So that, turning a corner sharply, he almost fell out of bed.
On the other side of the city the little American boy was asleep also.
At that exact time he was being tucked up by an entirely efficient and
placid-eyed American mother, who felt under his head to see that his ear
was not turned forward. She liked close-fitting ears.
Nobody, naturally, was tucking up Prince Ferdinand William Otto. Or
attending to his ears. But, of course, there were sentries outside his
door, and a valet de chambre to be rung for, and a number of embroidered
eagles scattered about on the curtains and things, and a country
surrounding him which would one day be his, unless--
“At any time,” said General Mettlich, and was grimly silent.
It was really no time for such a speech. But there is never a good time
for bad news.
“Well?” inquired the King, after a time. “You have something to suggest,
I take it.”
The old soldier cleared his throat. “Sire,” he began, “it is said that
a chancellor should have but one passion--his King. I have two: my King
and my country.”
The King nodded gravely. He knew both passions, relied on both. And
found them both a bit troublesome at times!
“Once, some years ago, sire, I came to you with a plan. The Princess
Hedwig was a child then, and his late Royal Highness was--still with
us. For that, and for other reasons, Your Majesty refused to listen.
But things have changed. Between us and revolution there stand only the
frail life of a boy and an army none too large, and already, perhaps,
affected. There is much discontent, and the offspring of discontent is
anarchy.”
The King snarled. But Mettlich had taken his courage in his hands, and
went on. Their neighbor and hereditary foe was Karnia. Could they any
longer afford the enmity of Karnia? One cause of discontent was the
expense of the army, and of the fortifications along the Karnian border.
If Karnia were allied with them, there would be no need of so great
an army. They had the mineral wealth, and Karnia the seaports. The old
dream of the Empire, of a railway to the sea, would be realized.
He pleaded well. The idea was not new. To place the little King Otto IX
on the throne and keep him there in the face of opposition would require
support from outside. Karnia would furnish this support. For a price.
The price was the Princess Hedwig.
Outside, Nikky Larisch rose, stretched, and fell to pacing the floor.
It was one o’clock, and the palace slept. He lighted a cigarette, and
stepping out into a small balcony which overlooked the Square, faced the
quiet night.
“That is my plea, sire,” Mettlich finished. “Karl of Karnia is
anxious to marry, and looks this way. To allay discontent and growing
insurrection, to insure the boy’s safety and his throne, to beat
our swords into ploughshares”--here he caught the King’s scowl; and
added--“to a certain extent, and to make us a commercial as well as
a military nation, surely, sire, it gains much for us, and loses us
nothing.”
“But our independence!” said the King sourly.
However, he did not dismiss the idea. The fright of the afternoon
had weakened him, and if Mettlich were right--he had what the King
considered a perfectly damnable habit of being right--the Royalist party
would need outside help to maintain the throne.
“Karnia!” he said. “The lion and the lamb, with the lamb inside the
lion! And in, the mean time the boy--”
“He should be watched always.”
“The old she-dragon, the governess--I suppose she is trustworthy?”
“Perfectly. But she is a woman.”
“He has Lussin.” Count Lussin was the Crown Prince’s aide-de-camp.
“He needs a man, sire,” observed the Chancellor rather tartly.
The King cleared his throat. “This youngster he is so fond of, young
Larisch, would he please you better?” he asked, with ironic deference.
“A good boy, sire. You may recall that his mother--” He stopped.
Perhaps the old King’s memory was good. Perhaps there was a change in
Mettlich’s voice.
“A good boy?”
“None better, sire. He is devoted to His Royal Highness. He is still
much of a lad himself. I have listened to them talking. It is a question
which is the older! He is outside now.”
“Bring him in. I’ll have a look at him.”
Nikky, summoned by a chamberlain, stopped inside the doorway and bowed
deeply.
“Come here,” said the King.
He advanced.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three, sire.”
“In the Grenadiers, I believe.”
Nikky bowed.
“Like horses?” said the King suddenly.
“Very much, sire.”
“And boys?”
“I--some boys, sire.”
“Humph! Quite right, too. Little devils, most of them.” He drew himself
tap in his chair. “Lieutenant Larisch,” he said, “His Royal Highness the
Crown Prince has taken a liking to you. I believe it is to you that our
fright to-day is due.”
Nikky’s heart thumped. He went rather pale.
“It is my intention, Lieutenant Larisch, to place the Crown Prince in
your personal charge. For reasons I need not go into, it is imperative
that he take no more excursions alone. These are strange times, when
sedition struts in Court garments, and kings may trust neither their
armies nor their subjects. I want,” he said, his tone losing its
bitterness, “a real friend for the little Crown Prince. One who is both
brave and loyal.”
Afterward, in his small room, Nikky composed a neat, well-rounded
speech, in which he expressed his loyalty, gratitude, and undying
devotion to the Crown Prince. It was an elegant little speech.
Unluckily, the occasion for it had gone by two hours.
“I--I am grateful, sire,” was what he said. “I--” And there he stopped
and choked up. It was rather dreadful.
“I depend on you, Captain Larisch,” said the King gravely, and nodded
his head in a gesture of dismissal. Nikky backed toward the door, struck
a hassock, all but went down, bowed again at the door, and fled.
“A fine lad,” said General Mettlich, “but no talker.”
“All the better,” replied His Majesty. “I am tired of men who talk well.
And”--he smiled faintly--“I am tired of you. You talk too well. You make
me think. I don’t want to think. I’ve been thinking all my life. It is
time to rest, my friend.”