THE BEAR IN HIS DEN
SCHLOSS LYNARBERG stands high on a promontory overlooking a lake, half
a dozen miles to the south of Salzbrück. The castle is modern, with
pointed turrets and fretted minarets, and, being built of marble,
throws a dazzling reflection, like a great submerged swan, into the
blue waters of the Kaisersee. Everything about the place, from its
tropical gardens to its terraced roofs, suggests luxury, gaiety,
pleasure. On the opposite bank of the lake frowns the ancient
fortified stronghold of the Counts von Markstein, squatting on its
rocky base like a huge black dragon on the coils of its own tail. Its
small, deep-set windows glare across the bright waters at the white
splendour of Lynarberg, like the jealous eyes of the monster waiting
its chance to spring upon and devour a beautiful young maiden.
The moods of Baroness von Lynar, regarding dark old Schloss Markstein,
had varied during her residence by the lake. Sometimes she pleased
herself by reflecting that the man who had slighted her lived in less
luxury than she had made her own. Again, the thought that "the old
bear" could crouch in his den and observe all that went on at
Lynarberg, got upon her nerves. She could have shrieked and shaken her
fist at the huddled mass of stone across the water. But, during the
first days of the Emperor's visit at her house, she often glanced at
the grim outlines of the castle, and smiled.
"Can you see, old bear?" she would say to herself. "Are you watching,
over there? Do you guess _now_ who is responsible for the growth of
this love-flower you'd stick your claws into and tear, if you could?
But you can't, you know. There's nothing you can do--nothing but sit
there and growl, and realize that you've been outwitted for once--by a
woman, too. How do you like the prospect, old bear? Do you lie awake
at night and wonder what's to become of your fine schemes for the
Emperor's marriage? After all, there are some things which can be done
by a woman with tact and money, pleasant houses and an easy-going
husband, that the cleverest statesman can't undo. Will you admit so
much at last, old grisly one?"
Thus the Baroness would amuse herself at odd moments, when she was not
busily arranging original and elaborate entertainments for her guests.
And she rejoiced especially at having had the forethought to invite
Otto von Markstein, the Chancellor's half-brother. There was a barrier
of nearly thirty-five years difference in age between the two men, and
they had never been friends, for the elder was temperamentally unable
to sympathize with the tastes or understand the temptations of the
younger. But it was whispered at Court that the Chancellor had more
than once used the gay and popular captain of cavalry for a cat's-paw,
in pulling some very big chestnuts out of the fire, and that he would
do the same again, if occasion arose. "Handsome Otto"--so known among
his admirers--"The Chancellor's Jackal"--thus nicknamed by his
enemies--would have found difficulty in keeping up appearances without
the allowance granted by his brother. The ill-assorted pair were often
in communication, and the Baroness liked to think that news fresh from
Lynarberg must sooner or later be wafted across the water to
Markstein. "Iron Heart" would hear of that which his iron hand was
powerless to crush; and the old bear would be ready to devour himself
in impotent fury.
Therefore she was not surprised, when the Emperor had been for two
days at Lynarberg, and there were still three more of his visit to
run, that an urgent letter should arrive for Captain von Markstein
from the Chancellor.
Poor old Eberhard was wrestling with his enemy, gout, it appeared, and
desired Otto's immediate presence. Such a summons could not be
neglected; Otto's whole future depended on his brother's caprice, he
hinted to the Baroness, in asking leave to desert her pleasant party
for a few hours. And she had sent the Chancellor her regards,
regretting his indisposition; and Otto had been charged with a
friendly message from the Emperor as well. When he had driven off in
one of the Lynarberg carriages, promising to be back in time for
dinner and a concert in the evening, the Baroness spent all her
energies in getting up an impromptu riding party, which would afford
Maximilian the chance of another _tête-à-tête_ with Miss de Courcy.
Already many such had been arranged, apparently without giving rise to
gossip; and if the flirtation (which was to disgust Maximilian with
his Chancellor's matrimonial projects) did not progress with startling
rapidity, it would not be the fault of an accommodating hostess.
"Otto has been bidden to use his eyes and ears at my house, and now he
is called upon to hand in his report," she said to herself, when her
guest had departed on his errand of compassion. But, for once at least
in his career, the "Chancellor's Jackal" was wronged by unjust
suspicions. He arrived at Markstein ignorant of his brother's motive
in sending, though he did not for an instant believe it to be the one
alleged.
The Chancellor was in his dark, octagonal study, reading a budget of
letters, when Otto was announced. If he were ill, he did not show his
suffering. His square face, with its beetling brows, its domelike
forehead, was graven with no deeper lines, looked no more like a mask
of carved mahogany, than usual.
"Sit down," he said gruffly, flinging aside an envelope postmarked
Abruzzia. "I shall be ready to talk with you in a minute."
Otto took the least uncomfortable chair in the Room--which was saying
but little in its favour, as the newest article of furniture there had
been made a hundred years before the world understood the luxury of
lounging. Over the high mantel hung a silver shield, so brightly
polished as to perform the office of a mirror. From where Otto sat,
rigid and upright, he could see himself vignetted in reflection. He
admired his complexion, which was like a girl's; pointed the ends of
his fair moustache with nervous cigarette-stained fingers and wondered
ruefully which of his pleasant peccadilloes had buzzed to Eberhard's
ears. Half unconsciously his gaze turned from his own agreeable image
to the outer page of the letter, held in a hand so veined that it
resembled a surface of rock covered with the sprawling roots of old
trees. Otto had just time to recognize the writing as that of the
Crown Prince of Abruzzia, whom he had met, when a pair of keen eyes,
curtained with wrinkled lids, peered over the crested sheet of paper.
"It's coming," thought Otto. "What can the old curmudgeon have found
out?"
But, to his surprise, the Chancellor's first words had no connection
with him or his misdeeds.
"So Maximilian is amusing himself at Lynarberg?" the old man grunted.
Otto's face visibly brightened. He was not clever or full of
resources, and he would always prefer discussing the affairs of others
with this elder brother, rather than his own. "Oh, yes," he answered
alertly. "His Majesty seems to be amusing himself uncommonly well. But
you, Eberhard! Tell me of yourself. You sent for me. Your gout----"
"The devil run away with my gout!"
Otto started. "I devoutly wish he would, so he left you behind," he
retorted--meaning exactly the opposite, as he usually did when talking
with the Chancellor. "But----"
"Don't tell me you supposed I had sent for you that I might have the
pleasure of your condolences?"
"No-o," laughed Otto. "I fancied there was another reason; but I am
bound in common politeness to take your sincerity for granted until
you undeceive me."
"Hang common politeness!" remarked the old bear--or as nearly in those
words as the Rhaetian language permitted. "I sent for you to tell me
what mischief that witch-hawk Malvine von Lynar is hatching. You are
on the spot. You should see everything. It will not be the worse for
you if for once you have used those handsome eyes of yours to some
advantage!"
Otto was genuinely astonished, as during the long drive he had been
carefully bracing himself against a personal attack. He sat pulling
his moustache, and was still trying to remember some striking incident
with which to adorn his narrative, when the Chancellor began again.
"Has Maximilian been playing the fool at Lynarberg these last two
days?"
"Fool is a strong word to use in connection with one's sovereign,"
smiled Otto, recovering his presence of mind. "But if by playing the
fool you mean falling in love, why, then, brother, I should say he had
done little else during those two days you mention."
"Iron Heart" growled out a word which he would certainly not have
uttered in his Royal master's presence, especially in the connection
he suggested. "Give me a detailed account of what has been going on,
from beginning to end," he commanded.
Otto looked thoughtful. This, then, explained the sudden summons. He
was to be let off easily; but, his suspense relieved, he was not ready
to be satisfied with purely negative blessings.
"It seems a little like telling tales out of school, doesn't it?" he
gently objected.
"Schoolboys with empty pockets do that sometimes," sneered the
Chancellor. "But perhaps your pockets are not empty--eh?"
"They are in a chronic state of emptiness!" groaned Otto.
"On the fifteenth day of October your quarterly allowance will be
paid," said "Iron Heart." "I would increase the instalment by the
amount of five thousand gulden, if you took pains to--humour any whim
of mine."
"I am always delighted to please you," answered Otto, with alacrity.
"It is only natural, living the monotonous life you do, when not busy
with affairs of state, that you should care to hear what goes on in
the world outside; and I will gladly do my best as a _raconteur_."
"Don't lie," said the Chancellor. "The habit is growing on you. You
lie to yourself; presently you will _believe_ yourself, and then all
hope for your soul will be over. I want to know how far Maximilian has
gone in his infatuation for this English girl. I am not afraid to
speak plainly to you, and you can safely do the same with me. The
woman Von Lynar attempted to draw me, as she would have expressed it,
on this subject, and, by Heaven, I'm ashamed to say that she
succeeded. She suggested an entanglement; I replied that Maximilian
was not the man to rouse a hornet-nest of gossip round the ears of a
woman who had saved his life. No matter what his inclination might be,
he would pay her no repeated visits at the Hohenburgerhof. This thrust
the Von Lynar Parried--as if repeating a mere rumour--by remarking
that she understood the girl was to stay at the house of some
one among the Emperor's friends. I attached little importance
to her chatter, believing it but a spiteful slap such as it is the
tiger-cat's pleasure to deal those she hates. For once in her life,
though, she has stolen a march upon me. The secret was only kept
until too late for me to prevent the Emperor from fulfilling his
engagement; then I don't doubt she was all eagerness that I should
hear of her success."
"Do you think that, even if you had known sooner, you could have
prevented the Emperor from going to Lynarberg?" inquired Otto, with
thinly veiled incredulity. "If you are iron, he is steel."
"I _would_ have prevented it," retorted the Chancellor. "I should have
made no bones about the reason, for I have found that the only way
with Maximilian is to tell him the truth, and fight it out--my
experience against his obstinacy. If advice and warning had not
sufficed to keep him from insulting the girl who is to be his wife,
and injuring the reputation of the girl who never can be, I would have
devised some other expedient. I am not a man easily thwarted."
"Nor is he," added Otto. "But, since you seem so determined to nip
this blossom of love in the bud, it is not yet, we'll hope, too late
for frost."
"I sent for you," said the Chancellor, brushing away metaphor with an
intolerant gesture, "to show me the exact spot on which to lay a
finger."
"And I will try to deserve your confidence," gracefully responded the
young officer. "Let me see where it will be best to begin. Well, as
you know, it is simpler for the Emperor to see much of a woman he
favours with his regard in a friend's house than at the Hohenburgerhof
or any hotel in Rhaetia. This particular woman saved his life at the
risk of her own, and it is so natural he should wish to do her honour,
that everybody takes his attitude for granted. Miss de Courcy and her
mother, with several others of our party, had been for some days
guests at Lynarberg before the Emperor came, and were ready to receive
him. The girl is exceptionally beautiful, with a winning manner which
appeals to women equally with men. Miss de Courcy had her friends and
admirers in the house before the Emperor arrived; not one of the
Baroness von Lynar's guests incline to put an evil construction on a
little flirtation between her and Maximilian. Are you sure, Eberhard,
that _you_ are not taking too serious a view of the matter?"
"It cannot be regarded too seriously, in the circumstances. Princesses
are women, and gossip is hydra-headed. When the lady who has been
allowed to understand that the Emperor only waits an opportunity of
formally asking for her hand hears--as she will hear--that he has
seized this moment for his first _liaison_ with another woman, neither
she nor her family are likely to take the news kindly. She is German;
on her father's side, second cousin to Kaiser Wilhelm. She is English;
on her mother's side, distantly related to Queen Victoria. Both
countries would have reason to resent a slight."
"The little affair must be hushed up," said Otto.
"It must be stopped," said the Chancellor.
"A-ach!" sighed the younger brother. There was a world of meaning in
the long-drawn breath, if the elder cared to read it.
At least, it roused him to a renewed sense of irritation. "Go on," he
demanded. "Go on with your sorry tale."
"After all, when one comes to the telling, there isn't much that can
be put into words," Otto reflected aloud. "The Emperor's place at the
table has naturally been beside the Baroness. For next neighbour she
considerately gave him Miss de Courcy. It has been noticed that they
have talked together as much as etiquette to the hostess allowed,
during dinner. Then--the Emperor being an old friend of the Von
Lynars, accustomed to visiting at Lynarberg since he was a boy--he
took it upon himself to show the English girl some of the beauties of
the place. I know that they went alone together to the rose-garden,
which is famous, you remember; and Miss de Courcy came back with her
hands full of flowers, doubtless gathered for her by Maximilian. On
the evening of his arrival we were all out on the lake in small boats.
The Emperor rowed Miss de Courcy to the Isle of Cupid, to see
Thorwaldsen's statue, and lesser mortals joined them there. Yesterday,
we had a picnic at the Seebachfall. The Emperor and Miss de Courcy are
both remarkably good climbers, and reached the top long before the
others. I was close behind, however, with our friend Malvine, at
starting from the carriages, and I overheard some joke between them
about a mountain, and a cow; the Emperor spoke of milking as a 'fine
art', and remarked that he had lately learned. I could hear no more;
but it struck me that the two were on terms of _camaraderie_.
"Last night, there were fireworks on the lake (perhaps you saw
something of them from your windows?); the Emperor and Miss de Courcy
watched them side by side--for everything was conducted quite
unconventionally; you know he hates formality when visiting as much as
he hates the lack of it in business. Afterward, we had an impromptu
cotillon, with several new figures invented by the Baroness;
Maximilian and Miss de Courcy danced often together. This morning, we
all visited the stables, the kennels, and the gardens; the Emperor
walked sometimes with the hostess, sometimes with Miss de Courcy. This
brings us up to the moment of my departure; for the afternoon, I fancy
Malvine had planned a ride."
"The girl is a fool and an adventuress!" pronounced the Chancellor.
"She must know that nothing can come of such folly--except scandal."
Otto shrugged his stiffly-padded shoulders. "A woman in love doesn't
stop to count the cost!"
"So! you fancy her in 'love' with the Emperor?"
"With the man, rather than the Emperor, if I am a judge of character."
"Which you are not!" Old "Iron Heart" brusquely disposed of that
suggestion. "The silliest woman could pull wool over your eyes, if she
cared to take the trouble."
"This one does not care. She hardly knows that I exist."
"Humph!" The Chancellor peered over his gold-bowed spectacles at his
young brother's handsome face. "That's a pity. You might have tried
cutting Maximilian out! You would not be a bad match for an ambitious
woman, with your good looks, our position, and my money."
"Your money?"
"I mean, if I chose to proclaim you my heir. I would do that, if you
married to please me. Who are these De Courcys?"
"I have not had the curiosity to inquire into their antecedents," said
Otto. "I only know that they are ladies, that they must be persons of
consequence in their own country (or they could not have got letters
to everybody here from Lady West), and that the girl is the handsomest
creature living."
"The tiger-cat said that Lady West was responsible for the mother and
daughter," soliloquized the Chancellor aloud. "But Rhaetia is a long
cry from England. And letters are forged sometimes. I have known such
things more than once in my experience. Fetch me a big red volume you
will find on the third shelf of the bookcase, in the corner by the
window that overlooks the lake. The book is Burke's Peerage!"
Otto rose promptly to obey. He was rather thoughtful. His brother had
put a completely new idea into his head.
Presently the red volume was discovered and laid open on the desk
before the Chancellor, who slowly turned to the required page. As his
eye fell upon a long line of De Courcys, his face changed, and the
bristling brows drew together in a straight line. At least, these
women did not appear to be adventuresses, in the ordinary acceptation
of the term.
There they were; his square-tipped finger found and pressed down upon
the printed names, with a dig that symbolized its disposition toward
their claimants.
"The girl's mother is the widow of Sir Thomas, sixth Baron de Courcy,"
the Chancellor mumbled half-aloud. "Son, Thomas Alfred--um--um--um--
twelve years old; daughter, Gladys Irene Mary Katherine, twenty-eight.
Humph! She's no chicken; she ought to have better sense."
"Twenty-eight!" echoed Otto. "I'll be _hanged_ if she's twenty-eight."
"She doesn't look it?"
"Not a day more than eighteen. Might be younger. I never was so
surprised to learn a woman's age. By the way, I heard her telling Von
Lynar last night, _a propos_ of our great Rhaetian victory in that
month and year, that she was born in June, '79. If so she would now
have been twenty-one. It was difficult to believe her even as much.
When she'd spoken, I remember she gave a sudden start and blush,
looking across the room at her mother, as though she were frightened.
I suppose she hoped there was no copy of this great red book at
Lynarberg."
"That thought might have been in her mind," grunted the Chancellor,
"or----" He left his sentence unfinished, and sat, with prominent,
unseeing eyes fixed in an owlish stare on the open page of Burke.
"Did you really mean what you said a few minutes ago about my
marriage?" Otto ventured to attract his brother's attention. "Because
if you did----"
"If I did--what then?"
"I might--try to please you in my choice of a wife."
"Be more explicit. You mean you would endeavour to show this Miss de
Courcy that a bird in the hand is worth an Emperor in the bush--a
bramble bush at that?"
"Yes, I would do my best. I have--er--some advantages."
"You have. And I was on the point of suggesting that you should make
the most of them in her eyes, before--_you brought me this book_." The
large forefinger tapped the page of De Courcys, while two grim lines
of dogged purpose framed the Chancellor's long-lipped mouth.
"And now you've changed your mind?" There was a distinct note of
disappointment in "handsome Otto's" voice.
"I don't say that. I merely say, 'Wait'. Make yourself as
indispensable to the lady as you choose; that is, on your own
responsibility; but don't pledge yourself, and don't count upon my
promise or my money, until you hear again. By that time--well, we
shall see what we shall see. Keep your hand in; but wait--wait."
"How long am I to wait? If the thing is to be done at all, it must be
done soon. Meanwhile, the Emperor makes all the running."
The Chancellor looked up, his eyes introspective, his fist still
covering the De Courcys.
"You are to wait until I have had answers to a couple of telegrams I
shall send to-night."