THE PRINCESS HERMENGARDE’S DISCLOSURE
THE Princess Hermengarde was one of those characters of whom much is
said but little is known.
It was said that she was proud. It was believed that she was
ambitious. It was admitted that she had once been beautiful. In the
days before her marriage, when she was still the heiress to the Duchy
of Schwerin-Strelitz, she had been flattered with the title of the
belle of Europe. In her thirty-sixth year she was still handsome and
commanding, but the youthful loveliness had disappeared. What years
had failed to do had been wrought more surely by disappointed hope and
wounded pride. In the words of Count von Stahlen, the Court wit, the
Princess Hermengarde was an old woman of middle age.
Her mortifications had begun, when she was still under twenty, with the
birth of a male heir to her father’s Grand Duchy. Before that event she
had been looked upon as one of the most brilliant matches in Europe,
and Austrian archdukes and British princes of the blood were said to
have made overtures for her hand. When the blow fell which reduced her
at one stroke to a position of insignificance, two royal wooers, who
had been contending for her smiles immediately before, withdrew from
their courtship with a precipitation which, in a lower class of life,
might have exposed them to the suspicion of being fortune hunters. One
of them went off in hot haste to St. Petersburg, where he was just in
time to secure a Grand Duchess of the house of Romanoff. The other, not
quite so fortunate, fell back upon a Scandinavian princess.
It was while still smarting from these insulting desertions, that
Hermengarde had consented to accept the hand of Otto, the younger
brother of Leopold IX. The match was a brilliant enough one in the
fallen state of her fortunes, though far different to such an alliance
as had seemed at one time within her reach. At this time Maximilian,
Leopold’s only child, was a delicate boy of twelve, and there being no
other life between Prince Otto and the throne, his wife might still
cherish the possibility of one day reigning over a kingdom.
But the unfortunate young Princess had not yet exhausted the enmity
of fortune. Within a few months of their marriage, Otto began to show
traces of that savage cruelty which seemed to be part of the hereditary
taint in the Franconian line. For a long time his proud young wife
submitted in silence, and allowed no hint of her sufferings to reach
the outside world. But when her son was born, and her husband’s
senseless brutality went so far as to threaten the infant, her maternal
instinct and her ambition together took arms, and she faced her tyrant
with unexpected courage. Strange things were related in the gossip of
the Court concerning the scenes which took place between the Franconian
Prince and the mother of his child. The miserable state of affairs
culminated, it was said, in the haughty Princess fleeing at midnight
from her apartments, clad in little beside a cloak, and bearing her
child in her arms, to take refuge in the quarters of the Baron von
Sigismark, Comptroller of the Household, and his wife, from the
murderous violence of her husband.
Immediately afterwards Prince Otto went mad, or rather his madness
was officially announced. Hermengarde went into retirement, devoting
herself to the training of her son; but after the deaths of her husband
and of King Leopold, she had returned to the Court, where she lived on
good terms with her nephew, and discharged some of the functions which
would have fallen to a queen-consort, had Maximilian been married.
Her apartments in the left wing of the Castle of Neustadt corresponded
in situation with those occupied by the King himself in the right
wing, and looked out over the decorated gardens to the belt of forest
beyond. On this particular afternoon the Princess had been sitting
in the window of her boudoir, gazing abstractedly out upon the park,
while a look of deep thought rested on her proud features. It was her
habit to sit thus, with her chin resting upon her hand. In the days of
her youthful triumphs, a portrait of her, in this attitude, had been
circulated all over Europe, and perhaps it was this recollection which
had caused her to adopt the posture as a favourite one ever since.
By-and-by she had tired of waiting alone, and struck a small silver
gong by her side.
The summons was obeyed by the page in attendance.
“Karl Fink has not been here?” inquired the Princess.
“No, Madam, not yet.”
“Go and see who is in the ante-room, and bring me word.”
The page darted off, and immediately returned. “The Count von Sigismark
has just come, your Royal Highness. He is talking with the Lady
Gertrude.”
“Ah! Is there no one else outside?”
“No, Madam. Count von Stahlen and Baron von Hardenburg have just gone
away.”
“Good,” Hermengarde dismissed the lad with a nod, and then stood
considering for a few seconds. Presently she lifted her head, and moved
quietly towards the outer room.
The Count von Sigismark was the same personage whose protection she
had sought fifteen years before. He was of a type which is fast
disappearing in constitutionally-governed countries--a courtier
statesman. Under King Leopold he had held the post of Comptroller
of the Household, and in that capacity had neglected no opportunity
of quietly serving the heir to the throne. Maximilian stood in
need of kindness, and was not ungrateful for it. His first act of
authority on ascending the throne had been to raise Von Sigismark
from the rank of baron to that of count, and by a rapid course of
promotion, the fortunate Comptroller soon found himself exalted to the
highest position in the State as Chancellor of Franconia, and head
of the Government. His powers had long been practically unchecked
by interference from his royal master, and the epigrammatist Von
Stahlen had gone so far as to give him the nickname of “the Regent”--a
dangerous compliment, with which the cautious old Count was by no means
pleased.
The favour which he enjoyed under Maximilian did not lead the wary
courtier to neglect those in whose hands the power of the future
might lie. While the present King remained without a direct heir,
Hermengarde’s young son stood next in the succession to the throne. The
Chancellor had carefully kept up his friendship with the Princess, and
had induced her to receive his daughter Gertrude into her household.
The Count was now a widower, and Gertrude was his only child.
The two young gentlemen with whom he had found his daughter engaged on
this occasion were well-known characters in the Court. One has already
been mentioned as its recognised wit; the other was his inseparable
companion and admirer, whose business in life was to publish to
the world the masterpieces of epigram which fell from his friend’s
lips. These epigrams were thought by some to have more personality
than point. It was Von Stahlen who had invented for Maximilian the
sobriquet of “King of the Fairies.” This was complimentary, but most
of his shafts were barbed with satire. Thus he had described Franconia
in her relations with Prussia as “the kettle tied to the dog’s tail,”
and had characterised the diplomacy of the Chancellor as “irritating
efforts to soothe Bismarck.” Most people failed to see anything clever
in these sayings, but everybody felt that it would be unpleasant to
have the indefatigable Von Hardenburg spreading similar remarks about
themselves. The Count von Stahlen was therefore universally dreaded and
disliked, and was the most sought-after man in the whole Court.
Even Gertrude had not escaped his railing tongue. Having neglected him
recently under the influence of some flattering attentions from King
Maximilian himself, he had taken his revenge by referring to her as
“the royal milkmaid”--a galling allusion to the fact that the fortunes
of the Sigismarks had been founded less than three hundred years before
by a dairyman in Mannhausen.
It was only natural that the beauty should now show herself
extraordinarily gracious to her returning admirer. Seated on a low
chair beside the couch on which she was leaning, the Count was just
finishing an anecdote deeply to the discredit of a noblewoman who
happened to be Gertrude’s bosom friend, when they were interrupted by
the entrance of Von Sigismark.
“For shame!” laughed Gertrude, rising to greet her father. “How dare
you tell me such things! You know the Viscountess is my friend.”
“The very reason why I repeated it to you,” retorted the wit. “I know
that with you it will go no further. Good morning, Chancellor.”
The Minister included both young men in a sombre recognition. Then he
turned to his daughter.
“Is the Princess well to-day?”
“Yes. Shall I let her know you are here?”
“Presently. I want a word with you first.”
Von Stahlen and his companion took the hint.
“Will you excuse us, Lady Gertrude?” said the Count, with
laboured courtesy. “Von Hardenburg and I have an important
appointment--political business. I hope, Chancellor, you will not think
that you have driven us away.”
And, preserving a smile of bland innocence, he retired, his henchman
walking after him with ill-suppressed delight.
The old Chancellor followed them to the door with a scowl.
“These young fools are growing unbearable,” he remarked severely. “You
should not encourage them so much. They can do you no good. Von Stahlen
has nearly run through his inheritance, and the other never had any
inheritance to run through.”
“They are nothing to me,” was the reply. “I find the Count amusing
sometimes, that is all.”
“Well, do not be seen with them too much. The King might hear of it.”
“The King?” Gertrude turned a startled look on her father.
“I said the King. I think you know what I mean.”
“Father! Do you really think he cares--that he notices--what I do?”
The Chancellor nodded.
“I am sure of it. I have watched him for some time, and, unless I am
deceived, he thinks more of you than he has yet thought of any other
woman.”
A bright blush came on the girl’s face.
“Do you really think so? I have sometimes thought--and yet, lately, I
have doubted again. But, after all, even if the King did care for me,
what could come of it?”
Her father indulged in a deep smile.
“What should you say if a crown came of it?” He rather whispered than
spoke the words.
“Oh, no! You cannot be in earnest? Surely the King would not marry any
one not of royal blood?”
“Perhaps so. And yet perhaps not so.” The old Count cast a cautious
look around him before going on. “You know the cloud that rests upon
the race of Astolf: their alliance is not very eagerly sought. The
other reigning houses remember the fate of Maximilian’s father, and of
his grandfather, and of his uncle Otto.”
“Father!”--there was a note of real fear in the girl’s voice--“you do
not mean that you think the King is affected by such a taint?”
“Heaven forbid! I have never thought anything of the kind. Maximilian
is not like his House. But nevertheless the possibility is there, and
he may find it easier to choose a queen among his own subjects than
abroad.”
Before the subdued girl could make any further answer, a door opened at
the end of the apartment.
“Hush!” whispered the Chancellor, hastily. “Not a hint of this before
the Princess. Remember that the King’s marriage means to her an
obstacle between her son and the throne.”
And assuming an air in which cheerful friendliness was only tempered by
the proper admixture of deference, he turned to greet Hermengarde.
On her part, the Princess approached him rather with the air of an old
friend than a superior in rank.
“I am so glad to find you here, my dear Chancellor,” she said
graciously. “It must be so pleasant for you to snatch a few minutes
from the dry affairs of State for the society of our dear Gertrude. I
only hope that you will not mind my joining in your talk?”
“You do us too much honour, Madam,” was the courtier’s answer. “But I
feel sure that you will approve of the advice I have been giving my
daughter--not to listen too much to the empty talk of the young fops
who haunt the Court.”
“You are quite right, Count,” said Hermengarde, with an approving nod.
“You have a right to look higher for your daughter. Your rank and
services to the State entitle you to expect no ordinary son-in-law. And
you, too, Gertrude,” she continued, fixing her keen gaze on the girl’s
telltale face, “perhaps you have already fixed your thoughts on some
suitor of pretensions lofty enough to satisfy even your father’s just
ambition for you.”
“Madam,” Gertrude stammered out, “I have no thoughts in the matter,
except to obey my father.”
“An admirable answer!” exclaimed the Princess, lightly. “Count,
I congratulate you on your child. I only hope mine will prove as
obedient. But I am forgetting what I was about to say to you. Have you
been much in the company of the King lately?”
The Chancellor lifted his head and darted a swift glance at her, and
then drew back a couple of inches, with the instinctive movement of one
who feels himself on dangerous ground.
“Not more than usual, Madam. There has been nothing to take me
specially into his Majesty’s company.”
“Quite so. And you have not noticed anything unusual in his
demeanour--anything that has led you to suspect that something
important was going on?”
This time the Minister failed to conceal his nervous apprehension.
“I confess I fail to understand you, Madam. So far as I know, the King
has been engaged in his ordinary pursuits. Of course, he is a good deal
taken up with the preparations for taking possession of this new palace
of his at Seidlingen.”
The Princess watched Von Sigismark keenly as he spoke, and a slight
look of scorn passed across her countenance, to be instantly replaced
by an indulgent smile.
“I see that I am about to astonish you. What should you say if I were
to tell you that I have discovered that my nephew is in love?”
In spite of his habitual caution, the old Count could not resist the
impulse to turn and look at his daughter, who, on her part, utterly
failed to conceal her embarrassment from the keen eyes of the Princess.
Before either of them could speak, Hermengarde followed up her thrust.
“Come, I see that I have surprised you both. Yet I should have thought
that you, at least, Gertrude, would have noticed something.”
“I, Madam?” The unfortunate girl could say no more, so completely did
she feel herself at the mercy of her royal tormentor.
“Yes, come; you are not going to pretend that you know nothing about
my nephew’s feelings. Why, it is not two months since the whole Court
believed that he had lost his heart to you.”
The Chancellor felt it was time for him to come to his daughter’s
rescue.
“Surely your Royal Highness is jesting? My daughter would never dare to
entertain such an idea. Every one knows that a king of Franconia must
marry in his own rank.”
Hermengarde shrugged her shoulders.
“Kings of Franconia do strange things sometimes,” she retorted with
significance. “But I see that you are both in the dark. Yet this
affair has been going on now for several weeks, though it has only come
to my knowledge within the last few days.”
Gertrude made an effort to rally her courage and take part in the
conversation.
“Perhaps it is the Baroness von Steinketel that you refer to, Madam?”
she timidly suggested.
Hermengarde smiled. The Baroness, a fat, overdressed woman of about
forty, whose chief attraction consisted in a never-failing flow of
animal spirits, had made herself the laughing-stock of the Court by her
undisguised attempts to attract the notice of Maximilian. It was easy
to see what a consolation it would have been to Gertrude to have no
worse rival than this.
“I had better enlighten you at once,” said the Princess. “My eccentric
nephew has not looked so high as the Baroness von Steinketel. He has
bestowed his affections on a young peasant girl, the daughter of one of
the royal foresters.”
The countenance of her two listeners underwent a change. On the
Chancellor’s face the expression of anxiety was succeeded by one of
relief.
“I understand you, Madam. Thank Heaven it is no worse! I confess that
you seriously alarmed me. But, of course, a mere intrigue of that kind
need not be taken very seriously. Gertrude, perhaps it would be better
if you were to ask the Princess’s leave to retire.”
“Stay, do not be too confident,” interposed the Princess, warningly;
“I am afraid this affair may turn out to be more serious than you
think. You have heard the tale of King Cophetua. For my part I should
not be surprised at anything on the part of Maximilian.”
The Minister started, and gazed at Hermengarde in alarm, as if to
ascertain whether any graver meaning lurked beneath her words. She
returned a look as serious as his own, and proceeded to enlighten him.
“The name of this young girl is Dorothea Gitten, and her father’s lodge
is on the other side of the forest, scarcely two miles away. Every day
for the past month and more, my nephew has been going there. If he
takes a servant as escort, he leaves him at the edge of the wood, and
enters the forester’s garden alone. There he sits by the hour in an
arbour, pretending to drink cider, while the charming Dorothea keeps
him company. All the time he treats her with as much respect as if she
were a princess. In short the whole proceeding appears like a regular
courtship, which may have the most surprising consequences.”
If Hermengarde had hoped to surprise the Chancellor into any hasty
expression of opinion, however, she was disappointed. The old courtier
listened to her in silence, striving to regain his composure in order
to think the matter over at his leisure. At the close of her narrative,
he remarked in his most diplomatic tone--
“I am greatly obliged by your confidence, Madam. I recognise the
importance of what you have told me, which will of course remain a
strict secret for the present. It is too soon to come to any decision
on it as yet. Our best course, no doubt, will be to watch quietly, and
wait.”
The Princess smiled rather scornfully.
“I dare say you are right, my dear Chancellor. However, I am glad to
think that the responsibility no longer rests on my shoulders. Think
the matter over, and come to me again.”
Von Sigismark took the implied dismissal, and bowed himself out with
every demonstration of respect.
“So much for the father,” murmured the Princess to herself. “Now for
the daughter.”
She was about to address Gertrude aloud, when the page rapped at the
door and announced that Karl Fink was in attendance.
Hermengarde’s eyes lit up with satisfaction.
“Let him come in at once,” she commanded. “Gertrude, I should like you
to hear what this young man has to say.”
And the next minute the young forester in the green livery stood before
them.