VI

The private apartments of the King, at the southwestern extremity of

the palace, correspond with the suite on the southeastern corner, which

had been furnished for his wife, and was now occupied by Ranata. He

had sent his daughter word that he would receive her alone at four

o’clock, and when she was announced he was standing on the balcony,

looking down into the distant street behind the palace. There were

excited groups of people in the street, and he guessed of what they

talked. From the many old houses, fine and simple, on the still loftier

hill which faced him, and from neighboring slopes above and about,

from the villas on the precipitous heights of the Schwabenberg, the

flags still floated, and it seemed to him that the German outnumbered

the Austrian in the ratio of three to one. As he turned to greet his

daughter, she saw that his face was more harassed than usual, but he

advanced with the grace and courtesy which, even in his old age, were

unsurpassed in Europe. The years which had robbed his heavy Hapsburg

features of what beauty youth may have lent them had spared his light

erect figure, his exquisite hands and feet. His genial eyes kindled at

sight of Ranata, but he kissed her lightly and handed her to a chair.

Had she been born twenty years earlier she might have been his idol,

and as it was he admired no woman more and was proud of her. But not

only had misfortunes, humiliations, reverses of every sort, and the

cruellest personal afflictions that in number and degree have ever

assailed a monarch atrophied his heart, but he feared to find even the

eidola of happiness in this gifted creature, lest the knife be driven

into the responsive breast and his own earthly expiation of the sins of

all his ancestors be the more complete. His ancient habit of temperate

affection for his older and married daughters excited no misgivings.

But if Ranata had never been permitted to know him intimately enough to

love him, she sympathized with and admired him. If enthusiasm, hope,

passion, were dead within him, he was equally without bitterness,

without resentment, without jealousy, and in theory, at least, without

indifference to the least of his subjects. Even the cruel insult of

the day before had not stirred him to anger. He had lost and lost

and lost from the day he had ascended the throne, and the driving of

Austria from the Germanic Confederation, and substitution in supremacy

of Prussia, must forever be associated with his name. In William’s

brief career Germany had been reorganized, strengthened, incredibly

promoted in industrial importance. William received an occasional snub

and reminder that he was two-thirds mortal, but to associate the idea

of failure with him was as unthinkable as to imagine him in the robes

of a monk praying for humility. Personally the Emperor and King could

afford to pass his pyrotechnics by with a smile, but there was more

to consider than his own sensations, and he was meditating an early

retreat that he might consult with his Austrian ministers.

The room, with its olive walls and its lowered awnings, was cool and

dim, but Ranata deliberately rose and placed her chair where the light

would fall fullest upon her. Then she turned her powerful gray eyes

on the Emperor, and he moved slightly; like the rest of the world, he

usually saw his daughter’s eyes through their lashes, and it was now

at rare intervals that he was reminded of the problem of his youngest

born. He suddenly remembered that when he was, the laurels fell from

his brow, and involuntarily he braced himself.

“I need not ask you, sir,” began Ranata, “if you recognized the

calculation under William’s impetuosity last night. There is no doubt

that he made the deepest possible impression on the Hungarians, that,

if present conditions continue, no other subject will be discussed

for months to come in this dissatisfied country, even to its remotest

villages. At first I was merely humiliated, enraged, terrified. But I

have thought all night, sir, and I have reached the conclusion that I

have it in my power not only to obliterate the impression he has made,

but to create one deeper and more persistent. His, he may not have

the opportunity of renewing--you certainly are under no obligation to

ask him here again. This is my plan: let me live here and keep the

Hungarians, from magnates to peasants, constantly reminded of the

great love they bear you. If I can make them love me, so much stronger

will the bond be between this restive country and Austria.” She leaned

forward and spoke as solemnly as if taking an oath of allegiance. “I

know that if I am given my way I can preserve this state to the Empire,

avert the calamity which all Europe expects to follow your death. I

am willing to pledge every hour of my life to this great mission. I

believe that every human being is put on earth to be of use in some

form or other. Assuredly usefulness--to the uttermost moment--is

demanded of us. So far I have accomplished no destiny whatever, and I

do not for a moment believe that I had so many of the characteristics

of my house concentrated in me for no purpose--although in endeavoring

to find reconciliation to my lot I have sometimes argued myself

into a belief of the blind law of cause and effect. But I do not

believe in it. I am here for a purpose, and the time has come for the

accomplishment of that purpose. _I will not marry._ I am quite well

aware that it is your intention to arrange an alliance for me before my

thirtieth birthday; but there is no mortal power, sir, that can force

me to the altar. I make no threats. I have no intention of resorting to

any desperate measures. I am strong enough in myself. I simply will not

marry. But I now represent a sinful waste of high usefulness. Moreover,

the emptiness and monotony of my life have become quite unbearable. I

ask that I may be permitted to exert, for the good of my country, the

best of those qualities which have come to me from yourself and my

ancestors.”

The Emperor stared at her for a moment without speaking. He was as

astonished as it was in his power to be at anything. Then he gave her

the answer she expected.

“It is a subject for deep thought on my part, my dear child. A week

from to-day I will give you my decision. Meanwhile there is no reason

why you should not remain here if you desire it.” Then, as Ranata

merely continued to transfix him with her determined eyes, he continued

hastily: “It is a great and generous idea, and I am much gratified to

learn that you take so deep an interest in your house. I had thought

you absorbed in books and horses. But are you sure you would not pine

in this strange country? Remember, you would be obliged to send all

your Austrian ladies home, and surround yourself with Hungarians.

I, as you know, hardly dare to bring an aide among these people, so

fierce in their national pride. The women are as proud as the men, and

very independent, quite unused now to leadership of any sort. Every

Hungarian woman in the higher aristocratic circles is a sort of queen,

is a social law unto herself. You are accustomed to the courtier, to

the flexible--”

“I am sick of it! And as tact is one of the prerogatives of royalty,

I hope you will give me credit for my share. As for being lonesome,

nothing on this earth can ever approach the suicidal ennui I have

experienced in the Hofburg. As for Schönbrunn, I loathe the sight of

it. This change is necessary, sir. Moreover, Alexandra will be with me.

And if there were drawbacks--do you think your daughter is the person

to consider trifles when a great object is to be gained?”

The Emperor’s eyes happened to rest on her hair. It flamed against

his green walls. “Red-haired women are dangerous,” he thought. “It is

well to keep them occupied. Why on earth doesn’t she marry?” Aloud he

repeated, “A week from to-day, Ranata, you shall have my answer.”

Ranata, having spent her first round, was content to retire. She knew

that a definite answer was not to be thought of until the Emperor had

asked the advice of his ministers. “But the idea made an impression on

him, no doubt of that,” she informed Alexandra, whom she met in the

garden. “And so did I. If I didn’t tell him I would stay here whether

or no, I don’t think he has any doubt of my intention. If he won’t give

his consent, I’ll spend all my money and all yours; and his refusal

of the necessary allowance is the worst he would do, for he wants no

more scandals. To remove me by force--and I’d leave Hungary in no other

fashion--would be to make the world believe I was mad, and he has had

enough of that. Besides, poor man, I made him think I should go mad if

I didn’t have my head for a while.”

“We are a wicked unprincipled sex when we want our own way,” commented

Miss Abbott. “But to get it--that is the main thing; especially when

there is a good and great end in view.”