THE BLONDE BEAST
The Count was not slow to take advantage of his _permis de circuler_;
his coal-black horses and coach were soon a familiar spectacle in the
streets of Eswareinmal, where he had discovered the delights of
promiscuous shopping. He ordered a self-supplying dinner-table of the
best quality--to be paid for by monthly instalments--from the Astrologer
Royal, with whom he struck up a sort of friendship. Nor did he neglect
to avail himself of his general invitation to the Palace, where he
dropped in so frequently as almost to justify Clarence's prediction.
Queen Selina gave him occasional hints that she had not expected him
quite so often, but hints were thrown away on the Count's ingenuous
nature--he seemed to take it for granted that he was always welcome.
Princess Edna certainly never discouraged his visits. She had been
struck from the first by his great stature and powerful physique, which
were just what she imagined that Nietzsche's ideal Superman would
possess. It has already been mentioned that she had been attending
lectures on the Nietzschean philosophy.
Those were the days--not so very long ago, though they seem remote
enough now--when a certain class of high-browed and serious persons
accepted works of modern German philosophers as containing a new gospel
which none who desired intellectual freedom, enlightenment, and
efficiency could afford to neglect. The theories of "the Will to Power"
and of Might being equivalent to Right are already hopelessly
discredited in this country by recent exhibitions of the way in which
they work out in practice. But it was not so then, and Edna, who liked
to feel that she was one of the elect and in the advance guard of
Culture, readily imbibed as much of the Nietzschean doctrine as could be
boiled down for her in a single lecture. She would not, of course, have
thought of regulating her own actions on such principles, any more than,
in all probability, did their author himself. But she was very anxious
to see some one else do so, and the young Count seemed to have been
formed by Nature for Nietzsche's typical "Blond Beast," if he only chose
to divulge his possibilities. Unfortunately, he did not seem even to
suspect them; he remained quite oppressively mild and amiable. She very
nearly gave him up in despair once when he timidly presented her with a
pair of mittens which he had knitted for her himself. However, a day
came when she saw him under a less discouraging aspect.
They were at lunch, to which he had invited himself as usual, and Ruby
had asked her brother how it was that in all his hunting expeditions he
had never managed to slay a dragon.
"Never saw one to slay, Kiddie," he replied. "They seem scarce about
here."
The Court Chamberlain, from behind the King's chair, took it upon
himself to explain that there were no longer any dragons in existence,
the few that remained having been exterminated by the late King's
orders.
"Oh!" exclaimed Ruby, "I _did_ so want to see a dragon! And now I never
shall!"
"If you wish it, little Princess," said Count von Rubenfresser kindly,
"you shall see mine."
"_Yours!_" cried Ruby, quite forgetting her dislike for him in her
excitement. "Have you _really_ got a dragon--a real _live_ one?"
"A real live one--and almost full-grown," he replied. "My poor dear
Father had a pair, but they were killed. Mine is the last of the breed.
I discovered it myself when I was a child in a cave close to the castle.
At that time it was only an egg."
"Hatch it yourself?" inquired Clarence.
"Only partially," said the young Count; "the sun did the rest." (It was
perhaps as well for Daphne that she was not at the table just then.) "I
begged that its life might be spared, and it was. So Tützi and I have
grown up together."
"Tootsie!" remarked Clarence _sotto voce_, "what a dashed silly-ass name
for a dragon!"
"And will you show us him?" asked Ruby eagerly. "Mummy, couldn't we go
to the Count's castle and see his dragon? This afternoon?"
"I should rather like to see it myself," said her Father. "No idea there
_were_ such things. What do you say to our driving back with the Count
and having a look at it, eh, my love?"
"I think, Sidney," replied the Queen, "we certainly ought to do so."
So, to Ruby's delight, the State coach was ordered to take the Royal
Family to Drachenstolz, and the party set out shortly after lunch.
Clarence accompanied them on horseback, while the Count followed in his
sombre vehicle. Daphne was left behind, and the Court, although invited
to join the party, begged with singular unanimity that they might be
excused.
On arriving at the Castle the visitors were first taken over the
interior, which was ill-lighted and rather depressing, after which the
Count led them through a spacious courtyard to the kitchen-garden, where
the Queen deigned to compliment him on the huge size of the vegetable
marrows and pumpkins that were ripening in the sun.
"If there _should_ be a Harvest Festival at the Church, Count," she said
graciously, "I'm sure some of those would come in very nicely for it!"
They then passed over a rough tract of ground towards a rocky cliff that
formed part of the Castle boundary. In this cliff was a deep cavern, on
one side of which was a stout staple with a chain attached, only a
portion of which was visible. Here their young host stopped and gave a
low whistle. Instantly there was a rattle of the chain, and the next
moment all but the Count and Ruby hastily retreated as a great horny
head with distended nostrils and lidless eyes was protruded from the
opening.
"Don't be alarmed!" said the Count, calmly unfastening the chain and
leading the creature out into the open. "Tützi is perfectly tame, as you
can see."
It may or may not have been full-grown, but it was large enough at all
events to be a fairly fearful wildfowl, with its huge leathery wings,
crested spine, formidable talons, and restless tail. The colour of its
scales was extraordinarily rich, ranging from deepest purple and azure
through vivid green to orange and pale yellow, and fully justified King
Sidney in remarking--from a safe distance--that "it appeared to be in
very good condition."
But there was no doubt about its tameness. It suffered Ruby, who showed
no fear of it whatever, to stroke it on its plated beak, and even to
scratch it behind its bristly ears, with every sign of satisfaction.
"Ruby!" shrieked the horrified Queen, "come away at _once_! I'm sure it
isn't safe to tease that dreadful thing!"
"I'm _not_ teasing him, Mummy," replied Ruby, whose eccentric _penchant_
for reptiles was now being gratified beyond her wildest dreams. "He
_loves_ being tickled. Can't you hear him purring?"
As the noise the brute was making would have drowned that of the most
powerful dynamo, the question was almost unnecessary. Count Ruprecht
next made his dragon exhibit the few accomplishments it had learnt,
which were of the simplest, consisting in sitting up, rolling over and
shamming death, and reviving to utter three terrific snorts, supposed to
be loyal cheers, all at the proper word of command. He concluded by
mounting its back and riding it several times round the enclosure, after
which he lay between its forepaws, while it licked his face with its
huge flickering forked tongue.
"Capital!" cried Clarence, apparently unimpressed, though he did not
venture very near the beast. "You've only to teach it to jump through a
hoop, and you'd make quite a decent Music-hall 'turn' together. What do
you feed it on, eh? Sop--or canary-seed?"
To which the Count did not vouchsafe any reply.
"I've been most interested, I'm sure, my dear Count," said the Queen,
after he had chained it up again. "And it's quite a thing to have
seen--once. But we really can't allow you to go on keeping such a
creature as that--_can_ we, Sidney?"
"Certainly not, my love," said the King. "It's against the law, you
know, Count, against the law."
"Is it, your Majesty?" said the Count. "I--I had no idea of that--no one
ever told me so!"
"Well, it _is_, you know. You must put an end to it--have it destroyed.
Painlessly, if you like, but--well, you've got to get rid of it
somehow."
"In your own interest, Count," urged the Queen. "Just think how
unpopular you would be with your neighbours if it broke loose!"
"I should not like to be unpopular," he said. "And if your Majesties
insist on slaying the only living creature that loves me----!"
"What?" put in Clarence unfeelingly, "don't the hearse--I mean the
carriage-horses love you?"
But again the Count took no notice of the question.
"It's too bad of you, Father!" cried Edna indignantly; "yes, and you
too, Mother! To come here at Count Ruprecht's invitation, to see his
dragon and then tell him to destroy it! I think it perfectly disgraceful
of you, and you will get a very bad name in the country when people hear
of it. When you happen to be Sovereigns you might at least _behave_ as
such!"
"Well, well, my dear," said her Mother, who had not considered the
question from this side before, "we merely threw it out as a
suggestion--nothing more. And if the Count will undertake to keep his
dragon under proper control, that is all we shall require of him."
The Count willingly gave this undertaking, and the visit ended without
any loss of cordiality on either side.
"We've seen the dragon, Miss Heritage!" Ruby announced with sparkling
eyes on her return. "And he is such a darling! Do you know, I don't
think the Count can be quite so horrid after all, or Tützi wouldn't be
fond of him. Only fancy, Mums and Daddy wanted the Count to have him
killed! But Edna made them say he needn't. _Aren't_ you glad?... Oh, I
forgot--you never really loved my newts. But you _would_ Tützi--he's
quite _dry_, you know--not the least bit clammy.... Do you think there's
time before dinner for me to run down and play with the Gnomes?"
"My dearest!" cried Daphne, "surely your Mother doesn't approve of your
doing that?"
"She wouldn't mind if she knew. They're yellow--but quite nice. Much
better fun than those fat little muffs of pages, who are too afraid of
spoiling their clothes to play at anything rough. You don't mind my
having a game of 'I spy' with the Gnomes--just till it's time to dress
for dinner--do you, Miss Heritage?"
"Well, darling," said Daphne, "I'm not allowed any authority over you
now, you know. But I'm quite sure that if her Majesty ever hears of your
running about with Yellow Gnomes, she will blame me for it, and probably
send me away."
"Oh, then I won't any more. Only it will be rather dull without them. I
almost wish sometimes I had lessons to do. But there's nothing for me to
learn. I can understand everything everybody says, and they understand
me. And there aren't any pianos, and History and Geography are no
earthly good here, and I know more Arithmetic as it is than I shall ever
want now I'm a Princess. Princess Flachspinnenlos promised to show me
how to work a spinning-wheel some day, but she's not very good at it
herself, and anyhow, I'm sure it will be frightfully boring. Still, I'd
rather give up the Gnomes than lose _you_, Miss Heritage, dearest!"
She spoke with feeling, for it meant abandoning a cherished scheme of
hers for inciting them to steal up during dinner and pinch the pages'
legs.
Daphne was sorry for the poor little tomboy Princess, of whom she had
grown to be really fond. There was little she could do for her, however,
beyond being with her as often as she could; and the Queen had shown a
tendency of late to discourage even this.
Edna looked forward with interest to the Count's next visit; his
performances with the dragon had impressed her greatly in his favour,
and she had begun to think that he might have the makings of a Superman
in him after all. It might be time to begin his education, and she
prepared herself for the task by running through her lecture notes on
Nietzsche once more.
When he called he was shown by her command to the chamber which served
as her boudoir, where, rather to the scandal of some of the Court
ladies, she received him in private.
He looked taller than ever as he sat doubled up on a low seat. "I came
to thank you, Princess," he began, "for persuading your exalted parents
to spare my poor dear Tützi. Of course I don't want to break the law,
but he is chained up, and besides, he is such a good dragon that I'm
sure nobody _could_ object to my keeping him."
"Why are you so anxious not to break the law?"
"Because it's wrong to break laws."
"And do you never do anything wrong?"
"Never. My tutors taught me that people who do wrong are always punished
for it. I shouldn't like to be punished at all."
"Still, you must have _wanted_ to do bad things now and then."
"Now and then I have," he confessed. "Especially lately. But I never
_do_ them. You see, bad people are never really liked."
"Do you know, Count, what the great German philosopher Nietzsche would
call such goodness as yours? He would say it was 'slave-morality.' You
only do what other people tell you is right because you're afraid of
what they would think of you if you didn't. You have courage enough to
master Tützi, but you daren't defy what Nietzsche so finely terms 'the
Great Dragon of the Law,' which says: 'Thou shalt'--'Thou shalt not.'"
"What?" he said in surprise. "Is there another dragon besides Tützi? And
one that can talk, too! I never heard of _him_!"
"Nietzsche was speaking metaphorically, of course," said Edna
impatiently. "He meant the human laws and customs and prejudices which a
true Superman should soar above. I think you ought to be more of a
Superman."
"Ought I?" he said, open-mouthed. "What sort of things does a--one of
those gentlemen--do?"
"Well," said Edna, after refreshing her memory by her notes, "you should
begin by 'hating and despising the ideals of the average man'! You
should create your own Truth--your own Morality. Obey only your
primordial instincts--the Will to Power."
"I wonder if I could do all that."
"Of course you can, if you are strong enough--and I believe you are."
"And what _else_ ought I to do, Princess?"
"Well, let me see--oh, yes, you should 'act towards slave or stranger
exactly as you think fit.' You should be 'an intrepid experimentalist,
ceaselessly looking for new forms of existence.' You must 'be able to
bear the sight of others' pain, remembering that you cannot attain the
height of greatness----'"
"I've grown taller lately," he interjected, "a great deal taller;
haven't you noticed it?"
"'Attain the height of greatness,'" resumed Edna severely, "if you do
not feel within yourself both the will and the power to inflict great
suffering! And 'through it all you must exhibit the joyous innocence of
a child that is amusing itself.' Do you understand?"
"I think I do. It means I must do whatever I feel inclined, without
minding what people say. Shall you be pleased with me, Princess, if I do
that?"
"I shall at least respect you more than I can do while you form your
conduct entirely on Sunday School standards."
"Then I'll try," he said. "Yes, I will certainly try. Do you know, I
think I shall rather like being what your great teacher with a name like
a sneeze calls a Superman."
"Then make yourself one," she said, "for I am quite sure that you have
the power."
Probably she did not know herself exactly what she wanted him to be; it
did not mean much more than the admiration for the prehistoric male
brute to which the more advanced type of young woman seems peculiarly
prone. But when he left she felt that she had made a most promising
convert, and had every reason to be satisfied with the success of her
afternoon.
As much could not be said with regard to her Mother, who remonstrated
with her after the Count's departure as strongly as she dared.
"I shouldn't see him alone like that, again, my love," she said
anxiously. "It might put ideas into people's heads. Indeed I'm not sure
that, as it is, some of the Court don't think there must be something
between you."
"It's perfectly indifferent to me _what_ they think, Mother," was the
lofty reply. "As a matter of fact, there is nothing whatever between us.
I am merely doing what I can to make him a little more civilised."
"There would be no objection to that, my dear. Only it _does_ look so
very like _encouraging_ him, you know. And it's so necessary to be
careful just now. I'm afraid the People think we are making far too much
of that young man. I noticed they looked very black that day we drove
over to Drachenstolz. I really think it would be better if the next time
he calls you would be 'not at home' to him."
"My dear Mother," returned Edna, "I am old enough to have the right to
choose my own friends, and I shall certainly decline to drop them just
because the Court chooses to make my friendships a subject for foolish
gossip."
Queen Selina did not venture to pursue the conversation any farther, but
she was more relieved than she would once have thought possible when she
heard that the Court Godmother had returned from Clairdelune. According
to strict etiquette, it was for the Fairy to attend her Mistress and
report herself, but the Queen waived all ceremony by paying the first
visit. She went at once, and unattended, to the apartments in one of the
towers that had been assigned to the Court Godmother, who, without
seeming at all overwhelmed by such condescension, received her with more
benignity than usual. "Thank you, my dear," she said, in answer to the
Queen's inquiries, "I am tolerably well, and feel no ill effects from my
journey. And I think," she added complacently, "you will agree that I
have spent my time at Clairdelune not altogether unprofitably. But you
shall hear all about it presently. Tell me how things have been going on
here while I have been away. As satisfactorily, I trust, as possible?"
"Oh, quite--quite--that is, I've been just a little worried lately about
that young Count Rubenfresser. He has taken to coming here oftener than
I think quite desirable."
"Coming here?" repeated the Fairy, with surprise. "Why, I thought he was
never allowed outside his Castle!"
"Not till lately. My poor dear Grandfather seems to have been very
severe both on him and his parents. But the Marshal spoke so highly of
the poor young man, and recommended so strongly that he should be given
his freedom, that his Majesty and I decided to do it."
"Oh," said the Fairy. "Well, of course, if the Marshal thinks it safe!"
She suspected the ex-Regent of cherishing some resentment against her
still for the part she had taken in bringing back the Sovereigns to
supersede him, and she had no wish to run counter to him again. So,
whatever she might think of the wisdom of his advice, she was far too
prudent an old person to express her doubts. "But I gather," she went
on, "that you don't approve of the young Count yourself, my dear?"
"Oh, he seems gentlemanly enough--though rather taller than the average.
The only reason that I disapprove of him is that I'm afraid he comes
here so often on Edna's account."
"You don't mean," said the Court Godmother, in some alarm, "that she
shows any----?"
"Oh, _dear_ me, no! Not the slightest! She thinks he requires
civilising, and is trying to do it for him, that's all. But I can't get
her to see that the notice she takes of him is liable to be
misunderstood. Not only by him--but by everybody, you know."
"Oh well, my dear, if it's no worse than that, you needn't trouble
yourself about it. And now for _my_ news. You've heard me speak of
Prince Mirliflor of Clairdelune, King Tournesol's only son?"
Queen Selina had heard her speak of him so often that she instinctively
prepared herself for half an hour of _ennui_.
"A charming young man. I don't say he hasn't his faults, but I shall
make it my business to cure him of them all in time. I was one of the
three Godmothers at his christening--the other two have gone years
ago--I forget what _their_ gifts were--Courage and Good-looks, I think.
_I_ gave him what I still consider a most useful present for any infant
prince--a complete set of the highest ideals."
"How _nice_!" murmured Queen Selina absently, for her attention was
beginning to wander already. "Most neat and appropriate, I'm sure."
"They _would_ have been," said the old Fairy, "if he'd made use of them
sensibly, as I intended. But that is just what he _hasn't_ done. For
instance, although he's been of an age to marry these three years, he's
refused to look at every eligible Princess that has been suggested to
him because, if you please, she doesn't happen to come up to his ideal
of beauty!"
"Dear me," said the Queen, concealing a yawn, "you don't say so, Court
Godmother!"
"My dear," said the Fairy irritably, "it's nonsense to tell me I don't
say what I've just said! And, as I was about to tell you, his conduct
caused the greatest disappointment and annoyance to his father, who is
naturally anxious that his line should not die out. So he begged me to
use _my_ influence. Well, I saw, of course, that the only way was to
appeal to _another_ of the ideals I had given him--his ideal of Duty. I
put it to him that he owed it not only to his father, but his country,
to choose a bride without any further shilly-shallying."
"And what did he say?" asked the Queen, with more interest, as she had
begun to see what was coming.
"Don't be in such a hurry," said the Fairy; "I haven't finished what _I_
said yet. I told him that personal beauty was of very little consequence
in a bride, and that what he needed was a sensible girl who would be
clever enough to keep him from having too high an opinion of
himself--which, I may say, has always been one of his failings. I added
that your Edna was just the very person for him."
"How kind of you to put in a word for her!" said Queen Selina. "And--was
it any _good_?"
"So much so that, to his father's great joy, he recognised that it was
his imperative duty to seek the hand of such a paragon of wisdom and
learning. And I am empowered by him to prepare you for his arrival in
the course of a day or two, in the character of the Princess Royal's
suitor. So you see," she concluded, "I haven't been at Clairdelune all
this time for nothing."
"Indeed you have not, dear Court Godmother; and I'm most grateful, I'm
sure, for all the trouble you must have taken. Fancy our Edna the Queen
of Clairdelune some day! Not that she isn't fitted for any position. How
pleased she will be when she hears of this, dear thing! So will his
Majesty--and Clarence too! He and dear Prince Mirliflor will be able to
go out hunting together. For--I forgot to tell you--since you have
deserted us, Clarence has learnt to ride most beautifully!"
"Has he indeed?" said the Fairy. "Then I was right after all. I thought
it just possible that, if you could persuade him to wear that jewel----"
"Do you mean that pendant of mine? He _does_ wear it, but that has
nothing whatever to do with his riding. He'd taught himself to ride long
before I gave it to him. He was only pretending he couldn't, as a joke."
"He may say so, my dear--but, all the same, if it hadn't been for that
jewel----"
"Really, Court Godmother," said Queen Selina, who naturally resented
anything that detracted from her son's credit, "it astonishes me to
find anyone so--so clear-headed as you are in most things still clinging
to these superstitious ideas. As if the mere fact of wearing a piece of
jewellery could suddenly make anyone into a good rider!"
"It depends upon what the piece of jewellery is," said the Fairy.
Queen Selina saw her way to an absolutely crushing rejoinder. "Well,
this particular piece of jewellery," she said, "happens to be a paltry
ornament which I bought from Miss Heritage before I ever heard of
Märchenland."
Her shot had certainly told. "What?" faltered the Court Godmother,
obviously out of countenance. "Did I understand you to say you _bought_
that jewel--and from the Lady Daphne?"
"I prefer to call her Miss Heritage--the other is merely a courtesy
title. Yes, I did buy it from her. She was in difficulties at the time,
and I gave her thirty pounds for it, which was a good deal more than
anybody else would have done."
"And--and--have you told this to any other person--the--the Marshal, for
instance?"
"My dear Court Godmother, I am not in the habit of _proclaiming_ my acts
of charity--for it _was_ an act of charity!"
"An act of charity," said the Fairy drily, "which I should strongly
advise you to keep to yourself."
"I intend to," replied the Queen, as she rose with much dignity, though
her face was redder than usual. "I should never have mentioned it at
all, even to you, Court Godmother, if I hadn't felt it necessary. Of
course, in my present position, I should never _dream_ of buying
jewellery from one of my own ladies-in-waiting. But it was different
then. I hadn't come into my Kingdom, and Miss Heritage was only my
governess; and anyway, it was a perfectly fair bargain, so my conscience
is absolutely clear. Still," she added, turning on the threshold,
"perhaps you will admit _now_ that you were just a _little_ mistaken in
attaching any importance to wearing that pendant?"
"Yes," said the Fairy, completely crestfallen and subdued, "I made a
mistake--a great mistake--I admit that."
"I thought you would!" returned the Queen triumphantly. "And now I must
go to dear Edna and tell her the news about Prince Mirliflor."
She had no suspicion of the state of mind in which, by her unconscious
revelation, she was leaving the unhappy Court Godmother, who was so
stunned that it was some time before she could think out the situation
at all clearly.
The present Sovereigns of Märchenland, it seemed, were nothing but
impostors! Innocent impostors, no doubt--but that did not lessen her own
responsibility for helping to place them on the throne. If she made the
truth known, would the people--worse still, would the ex-Regent--believe
that she and the Baron and the Astrologer Royal had not been deceiving
them from the first? She recognised now that they had been too ready to
accept the wearer of Prince Chrysopras's jewelled badge as the
sought-for Queen without some further inquiry--and yet who in all
Märchenland would have dreamed of making any? How could anyone have
supposed that Queen Selina had merely become the possessor of the jewel
by purchasing it from that little Lady Daphne? It seemed to follow that
Lady Daphne must be the true Queen. The Fairy remembered now that she
had taken her to be so at their first meeting. If only she had thought
then of asking a question or two, the mistake might have been discovered
before matters had gone too far--but, in her unfortunate anxiety to see
a legitimate sovereign ruling Märchenland once more she had taken
everything for granted. How could she put it right now without appearing
either a traitress to the Kingdom, or at least a foolish old Fairy who
ought to have known her own business better? That was a bitter
reflection for an autocratic dame who had long been accustomed to
consider that age and experience had endowed her with a wisdom which was
absolutely infallible.
There was just one faint hope to which she clung. She had been mistaken
once--why should she not be mistaken again? Lady Daphne might herself
have bought the pendant from some third person. In that case she would
have no better claim to the throne than Queen Selina, and matters could
be left as they were--which would relieve the Fairy of the unpleasant
necessity of having to admit that she was liable to error.
She could not rest till she knew more, and so, as soon as she felt equal
to any action, she took her crutch-handled staff, hobbled down the
winding steps, and then up more stairs and along a succession of
corridors, until she reached the door of the chamber she had been told
was Daphne's.
"I shall know very soon now!" she told herself. "And, after all, there's
nothing to be uneasy about. Whoever this girl may be, it's most unlikely
that she will turn out to be any relation of poor Chrysopras'."
But, in spite of these reassurances, it was a very tremulous hand that
rapped at the door, and the Court Godmother's heart sank as she heard a
clear sweet voice inviting her to enter.
It would have been such a relief, just then, to find that Daphne was not
in her room.