The Princess Sarolta, Prince Illehazy, Countess Vilma Festetics,
Alexandra Abbott, and Count Zrinyi sat in agitated conclave in the
palace of Buda. The Countess Piroska Zápolya was officially in bed with
an attack of influenza.
The five friends sat close together in the blue drawing-room.
Sarolta had related the story of the appalling interview between the
Emperor and Ranata as reported to herself by a faithful maid of the
Archduchess; who had almost fainted in a window-curtain. The woman had
escaped to invoke the aid of the powerful Obersthofmeisterin before
orders had been issued for the isolation of the Archduchess’s servants.
“There you are!” exclaimed Sarolta, who frequently expressed herself in
English for the sake of its facile idiom. “God help us, what a lashing
she must have given him! It was not the first, poor dear man, but I
doubt if he ever had it quite so straight; for Ranata’s brain would
always preserve her from the usual feminine tangents. But--but--our
poor princess! she is a prisoner! Do you realize it? He will keep
his word, the more rigorously as he now no doubt thinks she is mad.
And _Aloys Franz_! If I didn’t love Ranata, nothing would amuse me
more than to look on at his attempts to reduce her to submission. But
the situation is not humorous; it is tragic! What in Heaven’s name
are we to do to help her? We shall not be able even to get a word of
consolation to her; not one of us will be allowed to visit her; she
will receive no letters; she will be shut up for months, perhaps,
with _Maria Leopoldina_, for whom I feel an even more acute sympathy
than for herself. And she, with that active brain, that nervous
temperament--no exercise, no society, no change--Good God! she may lose
her reason.”
“That need not concern us,” said Alexandra. “Nor Aloys Franz. They’ll
never marry her, with or without antediluvian methods. But the rest
is bad enough. Surely the Emperor will let her exercise in the
riding-school. She would still be in the Hofburg and sufficiently
guarded.”
“I am sure the Emperor will not hear of it. The official announcement
has been made that she is suffering from a light attack of
influenza--light, you will understand, that neither suspicion nor too
much sympathy may be awakened. If she went as far as the riding-school
there would be too many people in the secret. She is confined to five
rooms and a corridor, and there I am afraid she will stay. Refractory
princesses have been shut up since the beginning of kings, and will be
until all the kings have gone to the guillotine. Poor dear!”
“I shall telegraph to my brother at once. We have a code. He will get
her out. Be sure of that. If he doesn’t he may look upon his life as a
failure. He will, however.”
“Would it not be better,” suggested Prince Illehazy, “if Mr. Abbott
did not take any step in the matter? It might create a scandal and do
the Princess a lasting injury. She has a severe ordeal before her, but
I think there is no doubt she will win. Her will is stronger than the
King’s. I think it would be better to leave the matter to Time.”
“Time!--a woman like Ranata for six months, a year, in confinement and
uncertainty! She must be got out at once, and there is only one person
who can make the deliverance final. Now I am going to say something
that will make you all jump. My brother intends to marry Ranata.”
They did jump, with the exception of Vilma.
“_Ach so!_” Sarolta’s tones were guttural with irony, but her fingers
shook slightly as she lit a cigar.
“But, mademoiselle,” murmured Prince Illehazy politely, “you know,
of course, that it is impossible. No one can sympathize more than I
with the romance of youth, and I have been deeply interested; but
marriage--between an Archduchess of Austria and Princess of Hungary
and, pardon me, an American--you who know your Europe must surely have
discouraged Mr. Abbott.”
“I never set myself impossible tasks. Fessenden will marry Ranata;
of that I have not the slightest doubt. I know now that I have always
anticipated it--and so has my father!--although as far as I am
concerned I thought of it until lately as a dream, rather. I know now
that it was a belief, and founded on my intimate knowledge of both and
of their fitness for each other; as well as on that very knowledge
of Europe which assures me that if I live I shall see greater social
revolutions than the marriage of an American with a princess of the
blood. You are dumfounded because you know Europe only. Go over and
live in the United States for a while and you will come back with the
future in your brain as well as the past.”
“I have never been in the United States, but I think this strange
love-affair is the most beautiful thing in the world, and I would help
them if I could!”
It was Vilma who spoke, and she was leaning forward with her hands
gripping the arms of her chair. The grayish pallor of her skin had
never been more noticeable, and the lines about her mouth were tense.
Not only had every nerve been on edge since Ranata’s departure two
days ago, but she was possessed by the exaltation of the martyr; she
was not going to the stake for the ideals of the proud aristocracy
of her ancient country, but in sacrificing those ideals in the hope
to compass the happiness of two exceptional beings she felt that she
had made good her claim to the martyr’s crown. But the time had come
when her morbidity might prove more useful than the healthy impatience
of Alexandra, who had little talent for intrigue; and who looked
upon Vilma as one of the unfortunate products of a too conservative
aristocracy.
“Princess,” she continued, appealing to her chief, “you do not approve,
of course. But you would not betray us if we attempted to help her?”
Sarolta bit the end of her cigar. “I would do all I could to help
her out of this difficulty; but connive at her marriage with an
American--never! I have outgrown romantic nonsense; and I am also a
loyal subject of my king, although I do think he is an--”
“But what you did not know, dear Princess, you would not feel obliged
to discover, now that you are no longer Obersthofmeisterin,” said Vilma
wheedlingly. “Why not leave it to her? You do not believe, do you, that
she would make such a marriage?”
“I do not. There at least my faith is unshaken.”
“Then take me to Vienna with you, and close your eyes if I try to
communicate with her. Only I can, for I am quite unknown in Vienna,
insignificant in appearance, and if the King has ever seen me he would
not recognize me. I cannot go unless you take me, but go I must.”
Sarolta, whose heart, as the astute Vilma well knew, was aching,
appeared to consider deeply. Finally she shrugged her shoulders. “I
cannot see what you could accomplish; but you might let her see you
occasionally in the Franzensplatz and give her a little comfort. The
rest of us cannot go near it. Alex, of course you will return with me
as soon as I have closed the palace. Zrinyi, I think you and Vienna had
better be strangers for the present.”
“I go to Vienna the day you do,” announced Zrinyi. “The King, on
second thoughts, will do nothing more to irritate Hungary. If he
ordered me out of Vienna I should return here and tell the whole story.
Molnár would go off his head and demand the liberty and return of the
Princess as the price of peace in the country. In any case he could
set the tongues of all Europe wagging, and the King would find himself
outwitted. He is shrewd enough to know this--or his ministers are.
They will pursue a very moderate and conservative course outside the
Hofburg. After all, this is the twentieth century.”
“Who would have thought it!” said Alexandra. “Will you come with me,
Count, while I write my telegram, and then send it yourself?”
“I would take it to Berlin if I could get there as quickly,” said
Zrinyi gallantly.
“Count,” murmured his tormentor as they left the room, “you are a
brick. I am a grateful soul. I feel uncommonly like rewarding you.”