II

When Alexandra was twelve years old Mrs. Abbott had taken her to

Vienna to consult a famous surgeon for a threatened deformity. He

had commanded that the child be left under his care for at least five

years, and Mrs. Abbott, whose devotion to her husband amounted to a

mannerism, left her with an old friend, a Hungarian, whose infinite

quarterings made her one of that small band so closely allied with

the court that they have never learned to snub, since nobody has

ever dared to take a liberty with them. This lady, who had married

one of the Princes Windischgrätz had formed a friendship with Mrs.

Abbott in her impulsive youth when the American’s father had been

minister to Austria, renewing it when she returned as the wife of a

secretary of Legation. The young husband had died in Vienna, and the

Princess had shown a sincere and spontaneous sympathy which cemented

their friendship into an intimacy where each might dare to accept a

favor from the other. She also extravagantly admired the American’s

toilettes, having a natural and exquisite taste, and rebelling at the

frequent necessity to wear an old gown, soiled and frayed, perhaps,

under her load of family jewels. After her friend married the chieftain

of millions, she visited her in New York and Newport, and was deeply

impressed with a style of living far more comfortable and luxurious

than anything in Europe, and quite as magnificent. Immobile to a world

whose existence she barely admitted, with her own class she was simple

and natural; and Mrs. Abbott having acquired the same tactics in an

early experience of European courts, there was no marked external

difference between these two exalted dames, and much in common. The

friendship never waned, for Mrs. Abbott was frequently in Europe, and

was the first American to dress in Vienna; when, therefore, she was

for once in a way confronted with a serious problem, the Princess came

gallantly to the rescue, and Alexandra for three years lived in a

palace immense and chilly, but as full of old furniture and pictures

as a museum, and often of gay Hungarian relatives who played high and

slept late.

The “Princess Sarolta,” as she was known to the elect, was a woman of

much heart and cynicism, of strong loves and stronger hates. Without

children of her own, one of the deepest affections of her life had been

for the Archduke Rudolf. Her pet aversion had been the Empress, whom

she denounced as a mixture of the country girl and the mystic, wholly

unfit to wear a crown. She never forgave her for being, not von Bayern,

but in Bayern; and when, in addition to the comparative insignificance

of her birth, the sweet and gentle but shy and unhappy Empress treated

a throne with contumely and sought the consolations of the inner life,

the Princess became her most contemptuous enemy.

To Ranata the Princess transferred the affection she had given to

Rudolf, although it was unmixed with the enthusiasm inspired by the

brilliant if reckless hope of a house to which she was loyally devoted.

When Alexandra was left on her hands Rudolf was still alive, but she

was much interested in the rebellious little Archduchess, who in looks

and temperament was unlike her mother or any of the recent Hapsburg

women; and partly out of sympathy, partly because it pleased her to do

one original thing in her life, she brought the two children together

on all their holidays.

They promptly gave to each other their hoarded stores of affection.

Alexandra, lively, fearless, without awe of rank, yet with too much

inherited and inculcated taste to take the wrong sort of liberty with

the humblest of her friends, seemed in the nature of a divine gift to a

princess who was never permitted to forget her rank by the children of

the court circle. These little girls came, when invited, with phrases

and sentiments carefully drilled, their small minds already agitated

by the possibility of future favors. They bored and exasperated their

intelligent, if imperious and highly strung, hostess; the more so

that her courtesy must be unwavering, lest she remind them of their

inferiority in rank. But Alexandra slapped her when she was angry,

and hugged her when the tide of her young and ardent affections rose,

indulged in ribald merriment at the rigid Spanish etiquette of the

court, the chill magnificence of the ceremonial rooms, of the army

of splendid guards and chamberlains and lackeys, and the many other

inconsistencies with the daily democracy of the court-yards and the

general external dinginess and internal discomfort of the wealthiest

house in Europe. But to the Emperor she accorded an unwavering

respect, and she always amused him. When, after the terrible loss of

his only son--a tragedy which practically banished his wife from his

homes--Ranata was first ill, then melancholy, clinging to her chosen

friend day and night, he had given his indifferent consent to the

American remaining in the Hofburg until his daughter could live without

her. That time had not yet arrived, and although the incongruity of an

American inmate of the Hofburg sometimes entered the carefully occupied

brain of a monarch whose traditions would not permit him to receive

the bourgeoise wife of the greatest of his subjects, and bade him

ignore the distinguished in art and letters, yet was he so grateful for

any cause that might lessen the problem of his youngest born that he

deferred indefinitely a half-cherished protest. He believed Alexandra’s

influence to be wholesome, and he dreaded the scene which he knew must

follow any attempt to reduce the friendship to a more formal footing;

Ranata had pounded shrieking on his door more than once.

So the years had passed, the children had played and studied together,

and been satisfied with their lot, and no specific excuse had ever

arrived to interfere with an arrangement to which even the Emperor

became too accustomed in time to question.

After Alexandra’s physical trouble was over, Mr. Abbott had insisted

that she spend her summers on his Hudson River estate, where he could

see her daily, make sure she passed the greater part of her time out of

doors, and preserved her Americanism. He had no objection to her close

friendship with the Hapsburg, for he had a far-seeing eye, moreover

fully appreciated the education she would have under the royal tutors,

the simple food and habits, and, not of the least importance to this

erratic American father, the strict discipline to which the heiress

of many millions would be subjected. But he invariably informed her,

every year when he escorted her to the steamer, that the first time she

returned with any “airs,” any reduction in the sum of her Americanism,

that would be the last she would see of her beloved Ranata. Doubtless

the advice was salutary, as all advice is; but Alexandra from the

first had perceived the advantage her Americanism gave her over the

born subjects of royalty. Not only did her national exemption from

the courtier’s deference and her unconscious indifference to future

favors exercise a wild and picturesque charm, but her exciting yarns of

Western adventure, spun for the most part out of a fertile imagination,

her astonishing games, labelled “American,” won her the unswerving

admiration of Ranata and almost conquered the jealousies of the other

little girls. As she grew older she became fully aware that her

influence over the Archduchess, aside from the deep mutual affection,

lay in her fine careless independence and her utter unlikeness to

anything in Europe.

The influence of the girls on each other was of mutual benefit. The

deep serious nature of the Archduchess, with her centuries of storied

impressions, her lofty sense of duty, even in her most rebellious

moments, did much to remodel the lighter nature, the slenderer mental

and ethical equipment of the American girl. On the other hand, the

absolutely fearless outlook of Alexandra, her unswerving American

point of view and republican ideal, combined, as she grew older, with

a close knowledge of European politics, her habit of thinking for

herself, her mere tolerance of Old World standards and traditions, her

eager interest in new thoughts and movements, early awakened emulation

in the brilliant Austrian, made her eager to lengthen her vision, to

comprehend the thought of the more sensible of the liberated women out

in the world; finally taught her to project herself beyond the royal

horizon, to feel and to know how it was with humanity in its multitudes.

Alexandra watched the two personalities in her friend grow and flourish

coincidently; the one uncompromising, traditional, bigotedly loyal to

her house and condition; the other tragically human, womanly, broad,

generous, passionate, sympathizing with the masses in their struggle

for happiness.

As Ranata grew older, the two women in her held many an excited

controversy; there were hours of profound depression, discouragement,

rebellion, abhorrence of the royal tread-mill, and a wild pagan love of

mere existence. Encouraged by Alexandra, she had taken an early stand

against matrimony. Twice, however, she had submitted to her father’s

wishes, and permitted herself to be affianced; but one of her princes

dying before the wedding-day and the other disgracing himself, she

announced that she had now done all that could be expected of her,

and should be permitted to remain single. The Emperor acknowledged

the justice of her argument and bided his time. Of his daughter’s

intense inner life he knew nothing, but he recognized that he had

an individual, not a mere princess, on his hands, and he humored

her as far as was in his power and consistent with her conspicuous

position. Liberty beyond palace walls or royal enclosures was not to

be considered; tradition was tradition, even to the toothpicks on the

imperial table; moreover, although she bore no resemblance to her

mother, fate had spared her the growling visage of the Hapsburgs,

and, unlike most royal women, she looked born to crown and purple.

To the world she was the princess, the goddess, a valuable asset for

any reigning house; and, tradition aside, the glorified ideal of a

vast and restless people must not be vulgarized, nor even dimmed. But

although she had her separate household and a large income to spend

on her wardrobe and private fancies, the Emperor and his ministers

had no intention that a young, healthy, and beautiful princess should

carry out her romantic programme of being an old maid. Happy in

their ignorance of her resources, they occasionally frowned over the

shrinking list of eligible princes. Early plans to place her on two

of the highest thrones in Europe had been frustrated by a method so

simple that neither the Emperor nor his advisers had ever penetrated

the mystery. Ranata had treated each of the visiting young princes to

a furious exhibition of temper, which, taken in connection with her

red hair and American influences, appeared to them to be of alarming

domestic significance. The impression was ineradicably fixed by the

ingenious and terrible tales poured into their ears by the fertile

Alexandra.

Men had loved her, but as men love a picture or a character in history;

they hardly knew her better, for she was too proud for intrigue,

and conversation in the presence of a watchful court is neither

sympathetic nor enlightening. Moreover, her Obersthofmeisterin, the

Archduchess Maria Leopoldina, was the most anxious duenna that ever

had princess in charge, and the boldest officer dared not brave that

protecting wing.

Ranata had her dreams, her ideals, but she found her heroes in history;

a few ballroom flirtations completed the sum of her interest in mere

mortals. Knowing that earthly love and passion were not for her, she

did what she could to forget their existence, occupied her mind and

wearied her body. The cruel afflictions of her family chastened her

somewhat, but she still had her hours of intense rebellion, caught her

imagination on the wing in a future which never before had risen on the

horizon of what is technically known as “the Great.”