HERMENGARDE DROPS A HINT
IF Dorothea had consulted some of those familiar with the Court, as to
which of her various friends she would be least wise to trust in, the
answer in almost every case would have been--the Princess Hermengarde.
Nevertheless, it was to the Princess she fled from the new complexities
which beset her life at the forester’s lodge.
Though far from expecting her invitation to be so promptly accepted,
Hermengarde had been careful to leave instructions that Dorothea should
be admitted to her at any time when she might present herself. When,
therefore, the exhausted and trembling girl arrived at the Castle after
her flight through the forest, she found no difficulties in the way of
her entrance.
The hour was half-past ten, which was not quite so late in the palace
as in the cottage, and Hermengarde, when Dorothea was announced, was
sitting alone with her son, whom she was trying to interest in a game
of draughts. In this her success had been doubtful, for the boy was
staring blankly at the board, where two solitary men, who formed the
survivors of his own army, were being pursued to their doom by a whole
troop of kings in his mother’s service. He was yawning audibly between
the moves, and welcomed the interruption caused by the new arrival by a
loud sigh of relief.
“Let the Fräulein come in here,” said Hermengarde to the page in
attendance. And Dorothea entered.
As she came in, Ernest turned round in natural curiosity to see what
she was like. The result seemed to be satisfactory, for he got up and
offered her his hand, to the surprise of his mother.
Dorothea, unused to the ways of Courts, took the young Prince’s hand
unaffectedly in her own, and by that simple act confirmed the good
impression.
“This is my son, Prince Ernest Leopold,” observed Hermengarde, with the
slightest possible emphasis on the “Prince.”
Dorothea shrank back a little and blushed. The Princess good-naturedly
reassured her.
“But I hope you will be good friends. Sit down here by me, and tell me
why you have come. Ernest you can say good night.”
The boy obeyed, and withdrew with more reluctance than he generally
showed at quitting his mother’s presence.
“He is a little shy for his age,” remarked the Princess, as the door
closed behind him; “but no doubt he will grow out of it before long.
You would hardly take him for sixteen, would you?”
Dorothea made some suitable reply, and began to feel more at ease under
the influence of this homely talk.
“And now, my dear child, tell me what is the matter?” said Hermengarde,
patting the girl’s hand affectionately.
By way of answer Dorothea poured out the story of the day’s events,
the hints of a royal marriage dropped by Johann, the promise which
she had given to Maximilian to try and reciprocate his love, and,
finally, the coarse attempt of her father to take the control of her
conduct. The Princess listened, watching her with steady eyes, and
nodding occasionally to herself. At the close Dorothea’s voice began to
tremble, and she finished off with a broken appeal to her protectress.
“I have no one to tell me what to do,” she said. “All this has come
upon me so suddenly. Two days ago I was like a child, without a care
in the world, except when one of the hens laid an egg where I could
not find it. And now there is nothing but trouble and difficulty, and
I feel as if I should like to run away and hide myself. And you said I
might come to you, and, oh, if you will only help me--”
She broke down, sobbing. Hermengarde extended her arm, and drew the
girl to her bosom.
“I will help you, my dear,” she said, touched, apparently in spite of
herself, by the young girl’s simple confidence in her.
“I think I see something in all this that you do not see yourself yet,”
the Princess remarked presently. “But, in the meanwhile, I promise
that you shall not marry the King unless you really wish it.”
Dorothea murmured her thanks.
“Still, as you have given your word, I don’t think you must break off
with him just at present. Stay here with me for a time, and see how a
Court life suits you. My nephew will have plenty of opportunities of
meeting you here, and in time everything will arrange itself quietly,
without any trouble.”
So the compact was sealed between the two, and Dorothea remained.
She found her new position rather trying at first, but it was made as
easy for her as possible by the thoughtfulness of Hermengarde, who kept
her close to herself, and only suffered her to make the acquaintance of
one or two of the ladies in attendance.
Among these was the Chancellor’s daughter, whom Hermengarde apparently
had no desire to keep in the dark. Dorothea, of course, had no
knowledge of the former relations between the Lady von Sigismark and
Maximilian, but Gertrude was on the defensive from the first, against
the girl whom she considered in the light of a rival.
Matters were not improved in this quarter by the rather obvious
preference which Prince Ernest showed for the peasant girl; and it
taxed all his mother’s resources to keep up the fiction of an intimacy
between Gertrude and the Prince. So unlike his mother did the boy show
himself in everything, and so different from all that she sought to
make him, that there were times when, in her despair, she was ready
to admit to herself that Von Stahlen’s designation of him as “The
Changeling” was not altogether wide of the mark.
Although Dorothea’s installation in her household had been so quietly
managed, the Princess did not, of course, expect it to remain a secret
for many hours. Palaces are built of glass, and Hermengarde had taken
her measures with a view to that publicity which she affected to shun.
She was, therefore, perfectly prepared for the visit of the Chancellor,
whom she received with easy cordiality.
“You are not looking quite yourself to-day, Count,” she observed, after
he had seated himself at her invitation. “I hope it is not true that
you have been harassed in the cabinet by the King’s Socialist friend?”
The Count had not expected this attack. He turned his eyes away as he
responded cautiously--
“The King is of a generous disposition, and no doubt it carries him
farther than is quite prudent at times. However, I am happy to say
that his Majesty and I understand each other. We have just had a
conversation, at which the Socialist, as your Royal Highness terms him,
was _not_ present, and I think I may say that there is no immediate
cause for anxiety in that direction.”
Hermengarde permitted a smile of scorn to show itself for one moment,
before she rejoined--
“Indeed! I congratulate you. I was led to fear, from what I heard, that
the King had taken up a rather alarming attitude. But perhaps you have
been able to bring him to see things in a more rational light. Has Herr
Mark been sent away?”
“No, Madam; I cannot say he has. But I have heard,” he pursued,
catching at the opening she had given him, “of the arrival of a person
whose presence I should have thought you would have considered equally
embarrassing.”
“You mean the Fräulein Gitten, of course,” remarked the Princess, with
composure. “Has the King been informed of it?”
“Not yet, I believe. But of course he must hear of it very soon, if she
remains. That is why I have ventured to present myself before you. In
the light of your Royal Highness’s own remarks a couple of days ago, it
is surely a rather serious matter.”
He spoke deprecatingly. Hermengarde sat up and looked him in the face.
“It is a serious matter,” she said boldly. “It is serious for you,
and for me, and for all of us--far more serious than you think. Have
the goodness to recollect what you said on the last occasion when we
discussed the King’s relations with this girl. Even then I hinted to
you that it was no mere passing intrigue; but you were disinclined to
share my view.”
“True, Madam, and I should be equally disinclined now; but the step
which you have taken in introducing her into the palace, where she must
constantly come under the King’s eye, makes the affair more important.”
“I think not. As far as my nephew is concerned, it matters little
whether he meets her here in my apartments, or in her father’s cottage.
On the whole, perhaps, he will have fewer opportunities of seeing her
now than before. The difference is this, that the affair must now
become public, and if the King of Franconia is courting a peasant girl,
the whole world will know it. And that is exactly what I desire.”
The Chancellor looked at her anxiously. Rendered secure against
consequences by her royal blood, it was easy for Hermengarde to run
where it would be dangerous for him to creep. He dared not imitate her
frankness, and yet it was necessary for him if possible to penetrate
her designs.
“You will pardon my dulness,” he said, speaking with some hesitation,
“if I do not quite grasp your position. I do not understand that you
really desire the King to marry this young person?”
“I think such a marriage would be the act of a madman,” was the quick
reply.
The old courtier, in spite of his training, could not repress a start.
He hastened to pass on.
“Then I presume that you think the publicity given to the affair will
deter his Majesty from going on?”
“It may have that effect, certainly. But I will be perfectly open with
you, my dear Count.” The Chancellor instantly became on his guard. “The
fact is that I do not choose to be in the dark as to what is taking
place. I want to know the worst, and if my nephew really contemplates
making this girl the Queen of Franconia, I think I have a right to
know it--and perhaps to prevent it. I suppose I may take it that you,
as the King’s principal adviser”--the Count bit his lip--“would feel it
your duty to oppose such a match by every means in your power.”
“Every legitimate means, undoubtedly, Madam.”
A slight frown passed across Hermengarde’s face.
“Quite so. And it may become necessary--of course I do not say that it
will--to take very strong measures against the King’s infatuation. In
that case it is essential that we should have public opinion on our
side. The presence of the girl here in the Castle will ensure that. The
whole Court will have the opportunity of observing the King’s conduct,
and forming their own opinions on it. That very rude man, Von Stahlen,
who said such spiteful things about our dear Gertrude,”--the Chancellor
looked uneasy--“will make some of his disagreeable epigrams. In short,
we shall be able to arouse such a feeling that the King will have to
abandon his purpose, or--”
She stopped, and darted a piercing glance at Von Sigismark. He
trembled, and fidgeted with his beard. The Princess thought the time
had come to play the trump card she held in reserve.
“Do you know why this escaped lunatic, Mark, or whatever he is called,
wields such influence over the King?” she demanded abruptly.
The Count gazed at her with new alarm.
“I cannot say, unless it is because the King believes him to be
sincere.”
“Then you were not aware that the man is a cousin of your future Queen?”
This time the Chancellor made no attempt to conceal his astonishment
and dismay.
“Great heavens! Is that true?” he exclaimed, with uncourtly freedom.
Hermengarde leaned back, enjoying his confusion, and regarded him with
a sardonic smile.
“You see I am your friend, Count. Although you are quite right to be
careful, you may find it the best policy to join hands with me, after
all.”
Then, before the Count could recover sufficiently from his
consternation to make any reply, she added--
“Now, let me point out to you another thing. This man, from what I have
heard of him, is not of a character to lend himself for an instant to
anything that would be contrary to the code of honour or morals which
prevails among his class. Do you suppose, then, that he would remain
here on terms of intimacy with Maximilian unless he, at all events,
believed that the King meant to marry his cousin honourably? Tell me
frankly, are you prepared to see this girl Queen of Franconia, and Herr
Mark Chancellor?”
The Count shrank before her searching gaze. But he never spoke frankly;
it was by pursuing a very different policy that he had reached and
maintained his present position.
“What you tell me is very serious, Madam,” he said, as soon as he could
collect himself. “It calls for the most anxious consideration. I hardly
feel justified in expressing my opinion off-hand. I can only say that
I am deeply sensible of your goodness in giving me this information,
and I will take care to keep you informed beforehand of any steps which
I may think it necessary to take.”
The Princess breathed impatiently. Then she made her last move.
“The fact is, my dear Count, that you and I cannot come to an
understanding too soon. The present situation is an uncomfortable
one for us all. We never know from day to day what the King may take
it into his head to do. That scene in the gallery was enough to set
people talking, and then there was that affair with your daughter.”
The Count looked up. “Fortunately, nothing came of it, but it has put
both you and her in a false position in the eyes of the Court. Now she
will naturally feel disinclined to look at any beside a royal suitor.
Do you know”--and the Princess bent slightly towards him with her
most gracious expression--“I fancy I have detected a growing intimacy
between her and my son. Ernest is too young to think about marrying
at present, it is true, but I have formed no plans for him; and owing
to the unhappy reputation which overhangs the house of Astolf--though
Ernest is so little of an Astolf that I have no fears for him--it may
not be easy to procure him a royal bride. He is a good lad, and will
make a good king if he should one day come to the throne. Just sound
your daughter, some time, and find out whether she really is inclined
to the Prince.”
The gorgeous bait had been skilfully thrown, but the wary old courtier
did not rise to it. He looked at the Princess, and became more on his
guard than ever.
“It is exceedingly gracious on your part, Madam, to even suggest such
a possibility. But, as you have said, the Prince is too young to think
of such things for many years, and I should incur much blame if, in
my position, I encouraged any such ambitions for my daughter. And I
feel sure that Gertrude knows her duty to the royal house too well to
entertain any ideas so far above her station.”
He made a movement to go, and the Princess, who could not wholly
conceal her chagrin at this rebuff, made no effort to detain him.
As he was approaching the door, however, it was opened quickly from the
other side by the page, who went up to his royal mistress.
“If your Royal Highness pleases, Karl Fink is in attendance.”
Hermengarde glanced hastily at the Chancellor to see if he had heard
the name. An equally hasty movement on his part betrayed that he had
both heard and been roused to attention.
“Tell him to come in,” said the Princess, defiantly. “Wait one minute,
Count; this may be a message for you as well as for me.”
Von Sigismark bowed, and retraced his steps till he stood in front of
her.
Karl entered, with an air of mingled distress and alarm.
“Well, what is it?”
The man turned his eyes from Hermengarde to the Count von Sigismark,
and back again, before answering.
“Madam, his Majesty has left the palace secretly, in company with Herr
Mark. He has left a note saying that he may be absent for several days.
And no one knows where they have gone.”