THE FIRST WARNING
WHEN Maximilian found himself outside the gates of the State prison,
it was not with the light step of a captive released that he took
his way to the palace. Once in his own apartments, which had been
hastily got ready for him, he issued strict injunctions that no one
should be admitted to his presence. If Herr Mark should come to the
palace, he was to be requested to follow the King to Neustadt in the
morning. These orders given, the young monarch locked the door on all
his attendants and gave himself up to the flood of emotion which was
surging within him. Without entertaining even the pretence of seeking
slumber, he remained all night in his cabinet, seated in an attitude of
gloomy dejection, or dragging his steps wearily and almost furtively
up and down the room. Sometimes he came to a halt opposite the various
pictures hanging upon the walls, most of them portraits of those of
his ancestors who had worn the Franconian crown. Once, in a momentary
transport, he tore down the picture of his wretched father, and seemed
about to destroy it; but more sober thoughts came to his aid, and he
reluctantly replaced it on the wall.
Thus the hours of the night passed, in miserable self-communing, and
his face grew paler and more haggard, and the dark lines of exhaustion
deepened themselves under his eyes, and his hair swept in disorder over
his forehead; and he passed by degrees into a condition of listless
apathy which ended in a brief spell of unrestful sleep.
With the first streak of dawn he rose, and went and looked at himself
in a mirror which decorated the wall over the fireplace. The sight
of his own aspect made him shrink. Withdrawing into a neighbouring
apartment, furnished as a dressing-room, he made a hurried toilette,
remembering for the first time to exchange the disguise in which he had
been arrested for clothes a little less inconsistent with his rank.
This done, he rang for his attendants, snatched a hasty breakfast, and
departed in a closed carriage to take the first train for Neustadt.
There was another passenger at the railway station, also setting out
for the King’s destination, a passenger whose form was shrouded in a
long dark overcoat, while his face was overshadowed by a wide-brimmed
hat. Maximilian caught a hasty glimpse of him in passing, but turned
quickly away, making no sign nor gesture of recognition.
Two hours later the King was back in his apartments at the Castle,
where his first act was to dispatch Karl in search of the musician
Bernal. Not till he heard the well-known step of his old friend in the
ante-room did his face relax for an instant from the expression of
nervous dread and wretchedness which had haunted it ever since his
sojourn in the prison.
But when Bernal entered the King’s presence there was a constraint in
his manner which was new in Maximilian’s experience of him. Instead of
welcoming his friend with open arms, the musician stood aloof, coldly
waiting to be addressed.
It instantly struck the King that this coolness arose from jealousy at
his departure in the Socialist’s company, without having taken Auguste
into his confidence, and he hastened to apologise for this breach of
friendship. But the musician was not at once appeased.
“It is the first time in all these years that you have treated me
so,” he said reproachfully. “Of course I know I have no right to be
consulted as to your political designs, but there was a time when you
would not have gone away like that, without even a word to let me know
where you were, and when I might expect to see you again.”
Jealousy is sometimes the most grateful proof of affection. To
Maximilian, at this moment, there was something consoling in his
friend’s complaint. He laid his hand with a caressing touch on the
other’s arm.
“I am sorry, Auguste, indeed,” he said mildly. “I admit I was wrong. I
can only tell you that no one ever repented anything more than I have
done this expedition. Would to God that I had had you by my side last
night!”
And he proceeded to give a brief sketch of his adventures. When he
came to the conversation with the man who had been intruded into his
cell, the musician gave him a look of anxious inquiry.
“Yes,” said Maximilian in answer to the unspoken question, lowering his
voice to a whisper, “I recognised him almost from the first minute. It
was Dr. Krauss.”
“Oh, Max, this is terrible!” exclaimed his friend. “To think that they
should dare do such a thing! Have you any idea who it was that sent him
there?”
Maximilian shook his head.
“I can prove nothing,” he said despairingly. “I suspect the Chancellor
and Moritz. But even if I were sure, what could I do? The mere fact of
their venturing on such a step would convince everybody that there were
some grounds for it. And then the fact of my presence at the Socialist
meeting--all would tell against me!” He broke off abruptly, struggled
with his emotions for some few moments, then broke down, and flung
himself into his friend’s arms, crying wildly--
“Auguste! Stand by me! I have no one I can trust but you!”
The last reserve of Bernal appeared to give way before this appeal. He
folded the King in an affectionate embrace, which seemed to give him
greater consolation than any words. In a few minutes the fit passed
off, and they were quietly discussing affairs in the Castle.
It was thus that Maximilian learned to his astonishment that Dorothea
had been for the last three days a member of the Princess Hermengarde’s
suite. Maximilian’s royal instinct rose in arms at the idea that the
Princess had dared to interfere in his affairs without his permission,
and he at once declared his resolve to go and demand an explanation of
her conduct.
At the same time that Maximilian was holding this conversation with his
friend, the Princess was giving secret audience to the Court physician
himself.
The Chancellor was also present. He had been careful to intercept the
physician on his arrival at the Castle, and after hastily exchanging
a few words with him, had conducted him by the back staircase into
Hermengarde’s presence.
The restrained air with which Von Sigismark saluted her warned the
Princess immediately that some communication had already passed between
the two. She was quick to perceive that all was not going well with her
projects, and almost involuntarily hardened her face into a frown as
she composed herself to hear the specialist’s report.
Dr. Krauss proceeded, in as calm a manner as if he were discussing
the case of an ordinary patient, with his friends, to describe the
stratagem by which he had been mingled among the victims of the police
raid and introduced into the King’s presence. He added the information
of the King’s subsequent release and return to Neustadt by the same
train as himself.
Hermengarde found it difficult to conceal her agitation as she listened
to his narrative.
“And no doubt, sir, it is in consequence of your observations that my
nephew has been restored to freedom?” she remarked at the first pause.
“Yes, Madam. As a result of my conversation with him, during which
I believe no suspicion as to whom I was entered his mind, I have
no hesitation in declaring that at present there is nothing in
his Majesty’s state of health which would justify any measures of
restriction.”
Hermengarde breathed hard, and directed a searching glance at Von
Sigismark. But the old Count’s face wore the look she had learned to
dread, the sanctimonious uprightness of the loyal servant, tempered by
the courtier’s deference to the personage who held the station of aunt
to the King.
She turned again to the physician, speaking in a voice which, do what
she would, sounded dry and constrained--
“I rejoice to hear that so far our worst fears are not justified. Have
you detected any symptoms which indicated that there might be danger in
the future?”
“I cannot say I did, Madam. At present there is no trace of anything
in his Majesty’s condition which might not be found in multitudes of
persons who pass through life without ever incurring the suspicion of
unsoundness. Of course, I have to bear in mind the constitutional taint
which he has probably inherited, and which must always be a reason
for care and watchfulness on the part of his friends. His Majesty has
no doubt a highly nervous temperament. I will even go so far as to
say that any very great stress of excitement, any great and sudden
shock to the nerve centres, might produce derangement; but there is no
indication of anything of that sort at present; and if his Majesty can
be induced to use care and prudence it may never come at all.”
The Princess bent her eyes on the Chancellor with that strange
expression which he, on his side, had come to regard with inward
disquietude. He endeavoured to feign unconsciousness of it as he
observed--
“I am sure, Herr Doctor, that the Princess and myself are under a deep
obligation to you for so fully setting our fears at rest. I agree with
you in hoping confidently that no such crisis as you refer to may ever
arise. Should there be any occasion to fear it we shall in any case
have the advantage of your advice and services.”
The physician bowed and rose to leave the room, and the Chancellor
imitated his movement.
“One moment, Count,” said the Princess, lifting her hand. “I have
something I should like to say to you.”
“As you please, Madam,” he responded, hardly veiling his unwillingness.
“Perhaps, Doctor, you will be good enough to wait on the stairs till I
join you.”
Dr. Krauss signified his consent with a nod, and left them. The Count
remained standing.
Hermengarde gazed at him steadily for a few seconds.
“May I ask what you propose to do now?” she inquired.
“Madam, my first task is to keep my head on my shoulders. After what we
have just heard, I am compelled to remember how perilously near I stand
to the ground of high treason. Your Royal Highness cannot be expected
to enter into my situation. The worst that can happen to you is a
retirement to Schwerin-Strelitz, but a poor Franconian Minister is in a
very different position.”
“True. I do not forget what you have said. I have no wish to ask you to
take any step involving real danger.”
“Then, Madam, I implore you, let us abandon this affair for the
present.”
“For the present, yes. But there is one other factor in the situation.
Do you recollect who has announced his intention of visiting Franconia?”
“You mean the Kaiser?”
“I do. When the Kaiser is here I shall take the opportunity of
consulting him. May I ask whether you would be prepared to take a
course to which he gives his sanction?”
The Count considered for a little while.
“I think I should, Madam, in certain contingencies.”
Before the Princess could say anything more, the door opposite to that
by which Dr. Krauss had made his exit was dashed open, and Prince
Ernest ran in, exclaiming--
“Mother, here is Cousin Max!”
The two conspirators exchanged looks of alarm, which they contrived
to transmute into smiles of friendly welcome as Maximilian crossed the
threshold.
He gravely saluted them, not without throwing a note of inquiry into
his glance at the Chancellor, which made the Minister feel decidedly
uncomfortable.
Then he turned to the Princess.
“Aunt, will you allow me to have a word with you in private?”
The Chancellor hastened to withdraw, only too pleased at the
opportunity, and Ernest reluctantly followed him from the room.
The moment they were gone Maximilian put off the nephew, and became the
King of Franconia.
“Madam,” he said sternly, “I have come to ask you for an explanation of
the presence of the Fräulein Gitten in your apartments.”
And he flung himself into a chair without deigning to ask the Princess
to follow his example.
But Hermengarde had been perfectly prepared for this inquiry, and did
not allow herself to be disconcerted by her nephew’s rudeness.
“The Fräulein came here of her own accord, Sire,” she said, with cold
dignity. “Though, I admit, I was guilty of the offence of telling her
that she would find a welcome with me, if she should ever want to
leave her father’s roof. I was rash enough to think you would rather
know that a young girl in whom you were interested was safe under the
protection of your uncle’s widow, than exposed to the brutal roughness
of a drunken father, or wandering through the forest without a place
in which to lay her head.”
“Brutal roughness! What do you mean, Madam? Be careful what you say.”
“It is my habit to be careful of what I say, and of what I do as well,”
was the retort, in which the King detected a subtle innuendo which
made him shrink. “But if you have not entire confidence in my words,
I should be glad to be allowed to send for the Fräulein herself, whom
your Majesty will perhaps believe when she tells you that she fled to
me at midnight to escape from, as I understood her, the actual blows of
this man Gitten.”
Maximilian was completely conquered. He rose to his feet, deeply
agitated, and said--
“Aunt Hermengarde, I beg your forgiveness. I am much ashamed of myself
to have judged your conduct so wrongly. But I am hardly myself; certain
things which have happened lately have disturbed me very much.”
He paused, and glanced at her as if hesitating whether to take her into
his confidence. But perhaps a subtle instinct warned him against such a
step. The atmosphere of Courts breeds distrust; and whom should a king
distrust more than those who will profit by his ceasing to wear the
crown?
“You have earned my gratitude,” he observed finally. “If there is
anything I can do to repay you, you may command me at any time.”
“I will only ask one favour,” returned the Princess, with a smile.
“Allow me to bring my friend Dorothea to Seidlingen.”
Maximilian smiled back. Had he not been in love, he might have
suspected some underlying danger in this ready complaisance of the
Princess. As it was, he thanked her without going further.
His aunt added to the proofs of her good nature by begging him to
excuse her for a few minutes, and sending in Dorothea to him as soon as
she got outside.
And Maximilian shook off his cares, and began again to dream of
happiness.
In the mean time, Johann Mark had returned to the Castle alone. Unable
to have access to the King, he wandered out into the gardens, where he
strolled moodily up and down, revolving in his mind the events of the
last twenty-four hours.
In this occupation he was interrupted by Bernal, who had discovered him
from a window, and come out on purpose to have a conversation with him.
Johann had not yet got over his first repugnance to the composer, and
greeted his approach with a marked lack of cordiality.
But Bernal was not to be rebuffed. He resolutely engaged with the
Socialist, and quickly brought him to the subject which was uppermost
in his own mind.
“My friend King Maximilian seems to be a good deal harassed by what
has been happening lately,” he said. “He has told me all about his
adventures in Mannhausen.”
The republican frowned.
“I do not know that there was much to tell,” he retorted roughly. “Of
course, it was unpleasant for him to be arrested, but I should not
think that need trouble him very much.”
“It is not merely the arrest. He has had a great deal of worry all
along, ever since his attempt to introduce these new ideas.”
It seemed to Johann that he was being attacked.
“And whose fault is that?” he demanded. “It is the Ministers who refuse
to obey his orders and who raise all kind of obstacles to everything
which the King wants done.”
“I dare say they do; I have no doubt they are very much to blame,”
returned the composer quietly. “But I am not looking at the matter from
a political point of view, but as the King’s personal friend; and when
I see him worried and ill, I have a right to feel concerned. I have
known the King longer than you have, and I know that he is of a very
sensitive temperament, and ought not to be exposed to troubles of this
kind.”
Johann’s manner became still more hostile.
“I think, sir,” he said with some bitterness, “you have shown pretty
plainly from the first that you have not much sympathy with the cause
that the King has pledged himself to support. You no doubt would rather
he continued to spend his time in building sumptuous palaces, and in
listening to operas. But I believe that he has at last awakened to
his real duty in life; and no matter what it may cost him at first, I
believe it is better for him to go on with his task than to sink back
into the condition of a sybarite, with no aim beyond his own selfish
pleasures.”
Bernal flushed under these severe remarks, but he resolutely kept his
temper.
“All that may be so, Herr Mark,” he replied; “at all events I am not
going to dispute it with you. If King Maximilian were an ordinary man I
should not say another word. But what I want you to remember, when you
are urging him on to all kinds of violent measures, is this, that if
you press things too far, if you harass him beyond a certain point, the
result may be such as you little think of.”
Johann stared at him bewildered.
“Excuse me, sir, but I do not understand you.”
“What I mean is this, that the King comes of a morbid stock. Up to the
present he has been kept free from any great cause of agitation, and he
has shown no sign of the hereditary curse of his family; but let there
be too great a strain put upon him, let him receive one or two more
shocks like last night, and I tremble for the effect upon his brain.”
Johann drew himself up, and an incredulous smile came upon his lips.
“So that is it!” he cried scornfully. “As long as a king wastes his
substance and the hard-earned taxes of his subjects in any sort of
frivolous pleasure and riot, he is perfectly sound and sane; but the
moment he begins to take an interest in the people, the moment he
begins to make any practical attempt to better their lot, then, in
your opinion, he is going mad! Thank you for speaking so plainly. At
last we understand each other. You had better go and tell your fears to
some one who will be more ready to believe in them--the Chancellor, for
instance. As far as I am concerned, I think that the King has at last
become sane, after being mad all his life.”
And with this reply, the Socialist turned his back, and strode away
with a fierce air.
While Bernal, deeply dejected, was still standing, as though in doubt
what course to pursue, he was accosted by Karl, who had come towards
him from the palace.
“What is it? Does the King want me?”
“No, sir; at least I have not been sent by his Majesty. The Princess
Hermengarde commanded me to say that she hopes to have the pleasure of
seeing you in her Royal Highness’s apartments after dinner.”
Bernal felt a slight shiver.
“Tell the Princess that I am much honoured by her invitation, and I
shall be there.”