"I always said he was his wife's husband," affirmed the War Lord, with
an oath. Then, to No. 103: "Well?"
"The Cardinal had taken his stand at the side of the crucifix, and when
the Ritter walked in elevated his hand pronouncing the benediction,
whereupon the Austrian heir dropped on his knees. The Cardinal seemed
in no hurry to see him rise, but finally held out his hand, saying: 'In
the name of the Holy Church I welcome thee, my son.'
"And Este kissed his hand, didn't he?" cried the War Lord.
"He certainly bent over the Cardinal's hand, and I heard a smack,"
replied No. 103.
"That settles it," said the War Lord; "the foot-kiss for me when I am
pope of the Lutheran Church."
"May it please Your Majesty," continued No. 103, "the two gentlemen then
settled down in easy chairs and engaged in a long, whispered
conversation in which alleged sayings of Your Majesty were freely quoted
by Herr von Este."
"Enough," interrupted the War Lord; and at a sign from Wedell No. 103
backed towards the door, which opened from outside. "You will await a
possible further summons in here," said Count Wedell's secretary,
ushering No. 103 into a waiting-room.
"How much has that fellow got on credit?" demanded the War Lord.
Wedell pulled out a card index drawer. "Upwards of thirteen thousand
marks."
"He knows that he'll lose it to the last _pfennig_ if he squeals?"
"The case of our man who exchanged Barlinnie Jail for the service of Sir
Edward Grey brought that home with peculiar force to everybody in the
Wilhelmstrasse and Koeniggraetzerstrasse," replied Udo.
It should be interpolated here that German spies receive only two-thirds
of the bonuses accruing to them. One-third of all "extras" remain in
the hands of the Government at interest, to be refunded when his spyship
is honourably discharged. If he is caught and does not betray his
trust, then these savings _par order de mufti_ are paid over to his
family or other heirs; if he betrays his Government, then the Government
gets even with him by confiscating the spy's accumulated savings, which
arrangement gives the Secret Service office a powerful hold on its
employees.
"Very well, recall the millionaire-on-good-behaviour," quoth the
Majesty.
No. 103 proved the possession of a marvellously retentive memory.
Quoting His Highness's confidences to the Cardinal, he repeated almost
word for word the War Lord's conversation with Franz, both at the
Schloss and at the General Staff office.
"Any memoranda used?" demanded Wilhelm abruptly.
"None, Your Majesty."
"Did the Cardinal take notes?"
"No, Your Majesty. When Herr von Este urged him to do so, he said it
was unnecessary, since he never forgot matters of importance; in fact,
could recite a text verbatim after tens of years."
"Curse their stenographic memories," said the War Lord. "I hope you
were careful to note what Schlauch said," he added in a stern, almost
threatening voice.
"I memorised his talk to the dotlets on the i's," replied the Secret
Service man, bowing low. "Quite an easy matter, for His Eminence used
words sparingly--
"To conceal his thoughts, of course." This from the War Lord.
Then No. 103 read the "notes" from his mental memorandum pad. The
Cardinal, it appears, laid down three rules "for the guidance of his
'dear son' and all other Catholic princes:
"I. Agreements with heretic sovereigns do not count unless they serve
the interests of the Church.
"II. If the proposed Slav Empire would bring about the submission of the
orthodox heretics to the Church of Rome, no amount of blood and treasure
spent in so laudable a cause may be called extravagant, the sacrifice
being for God Almighty.
"III. But if there should be a by-product" (our own term, the Cardinal's
being too circumstantial) "a by-product in the shape of a heretic
pope--pardon the blasphemous word--then Franz's ambition would be a
stench in the nostrils of the Almighty, excommunication would be his
fate in this world, the deepest abyss of hell in the other."
Count von Wedell, misinterpreting his master, thought "it was to laugh,"
but a look upon the War Lord's face caused him to change his attitude.
"Pay No. 103 five thousand marks, half in cash, half in reserve," said
Wilhelm, disregarding the one-third clause for a purpose, no doubt. "I
have no further commands for him at present."
Count Wedell stepped forward from the inner room, and the portieres
automatically closed before No. 103 had finished his obeisance.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*BERTHA AND FRANZ*
On Forbidden Ground--A Talk on Brain-Curves--Bertha is
Afraid--Shades of Krupp--"Charity Covers ----"--A Dramatic Exit
"Oh, Franz, tell me what it all means!"
If Bertha and the chief engineer had been real lovers, and had selected
the moon for a place of rendezvous, they could not have been safer from
intrusion than in the late Frederick Krupp's library with the door
unlocked, for the "room sacred to His Majesty" was a sort of Bluebeard
chamber into which no eye but the War Lord's and Bertha's must look.
Bertha had shown her mother a parcel of documents which Uncle Majesty
had ordered her to read carefully. "I will go to the library, where I
will be undisturbed," she said in her decisive tone, while the butler
was serving early strawberries sent from Italy. Strawberries in January
in a little Rhenish town! It reminds us that when Charles V., warrior
and gourmet-gourmand, sucked an orange in winter-time, his Court was
prostrate with astonishment and admiration.
And Alexis Orloff won Catherine the Great from his brother
Gregory--temporarily, at least--by sending to the Semiramis of the North
a plate of strawberries for the New Year. Yet nowadays any well-to-do
person can indulge all the year round in the luxuries that made Charles
and Catherine the envied of their Imperial class.
Bertha was in the War Lord's chair, for she felt very Olympian since she
had returned from the Berlin Court, while Franz sat on the _tabouret_
affected by the Krupp heiress during the interviews with her guardian.
"What did Zara really mean?" repeated Bertha.
"Are you prepared to hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth?" queried Franz.
Bertha Krupp moved uneasily in her high seat. Her mental stature had
advanced rapidly under the War Lord's teachings, disguised as coaxings,
and while the sound principles implanted in her bosom by a good mother
were at bottom unimpaired, she was beginning to learn the subtle art of
putting her conscience to sleep when occasion demanded--a touch of
Machiavellism!
Just now she would have loved to shut up Franz, as she was wont to
silence her mother by a word or look, though less rudely, perhaps, but
her fondness for the man--though she was not at all in love with
Franz--forced her to be frank with him.
"Speak as a friend to a friend," she said warmly.
"Well then----" began Franz.
Bertha covered his mouth with her hand. "A moment, please. May I tell
Uncle Majesty?"
"What I have to say is no secret of mine and certainly it is not news to
the War Lord. By all means tell him if you dare."
"If I dare?" echoed Bertha.
"My own words."
Franz spoke very earnestly, almost solemnly: "Will you hear me to the
end, whether you like the tune or not?"
"If it relates to Zara's prophecies, I will," said Bertha. "But," she
added falteringly, "you know I mustn't listen to criticism of my
guardian."
Franz shrugged. "I quite understand. Forbidden ground even for your
Mother."
Bertha felt the sting of reproval keenly, and did not like it. Indeed,
at the moment she would have given up gladly a considerable portion of
her wealth to be restored to Franz's unconditional and unrestricted good
graces. So, humbling herself, she temporarily abandoned her high estate
and again became the unsophisticated girl whom Franz used to call
sister. "_Do_ go on," she urged; "it was all so romantic, so strange,
so mysterious, and you know I love to feel creepy."
Franz had risen and approached the great central window. "May I draw
the curtains?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"They must not see you. I will."
Bertha tugged the golden cords. "Working overtime again?" she queried,
as she observed the blazing smoke-stacks.
"More's the pity, for every pound of steam going up those chimneys means
so many lives lost, and for all those lives, Bertha, you will have to
account to God."
"Old wives' tales," commented the Krupp heiress, as if the War Lord in
person played souffleur. "On the contrary, as you well know, war
preparedness means peace, means preservation; and with us in particular
it means happiness and prosperity to the ten thousands of families in
this favoured valley. It spells education, arts, music, care of
children and of the sick and disabled. It means cheerfulness, such as
ample wage and a future secured confer; it means care-free old age." As
she recounted these benefits her enterprises were actually dispensing
Bertha looked at the chief engineer with a slightly supercilious air.
"Well rehearsed," remarked Franz dryly.
"Oh, if you want to be rude----"
"I do," said Franz, taking hold of her wrist; "I am sick of all this
lying palaver about good coming out of evil, and I want you to be sick
of it too, Bertha."
The Krupp heiress leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "At the
American Embassy I heard rather a quaint saying day before yesterday:
'Go as far as you like.'
"A most apt saying," admitted Franz. "Thank you for the licence. As I
was going to point out, you did attach too little significance to Zara's
words, thought them mere piffle of the kind for sale in necromancers'
tents. There is enough of that, God knows, but do not lose sight of the
fact that at all times and in all walks of life there have existed
persons having the gift of prophecy. Who knows but Zara has?"
Bertha was now rigid with attention. She had moved knee from knee; her
feet were set firmly on the carpet, while the upper part of her body
straightened out. "I don't follow," she said almost pleadingly.
"Let me explain," continued Franz. "You and I and the vast majority of
people can look into the past--a certain curvature of our brain
facilitating the privilege. Another similar or dissimilar set of
brain-cells, or a single curvature, might lift for us the veil that now
obscures the future."
"The future?" gasped Bertha.
"Indeed, the future; and, practically considered, there is nothing so
very extraordinary about it, for what will happen to-morrow, or the day
after to-morrow, is in the making now. If, for instance, the Krupp
works were going into bankruptcy a year hence, the unfavourable
conditions that constitute the menace to our prosperity would be at
their destructive work now. Do you follow?" added Franz.
"I think I do," said Bertha.
"Hence I say the gift of prophecy presupposes a correct interpretation
of the past and present as well as the peculiar gift of extraordinary
brain development--a rare gift, so sparsely distributed that in olden
times prophets were credited with interpreting the will of the
Almighty."
"Franz," cried Bertha, her face pallid and drawn, her hands twitching.
"_Oh_, my God!" she screamed, as if nerve-shattered by an awful thought
suddenly burst upon her; "you don't believe--no, you can't----! Tell me
that you do not think it was God's voice speaking through Zara?" And,
as if to shut out some horrible vision, the Girl-Queen of Guns covered
her face with both hands.
"It is not for me to pronounce on things I don't know," replied Franz.
"Judged by what you have told me, Zara suited her prophecy for the most
part to facts and to existing tendencies, conditions and ambitions on
the part of political parties and high personages."
"She called me the coming arch-murderess of the age, insisted that the
warrior-queens of past times, even the most heartless and most cruel,
had been but amateurs compared with me in taking human lives---- Oh,
Franz, tell me it is not true! She was romancing, was she not? She lied
to frighten me and to get a big _trinkgeld_."
"I wish it were so," said Franz earnestly; "but, unfortunately, she had
a clear insight into the future as it may develop, unless you call a
halt to incessant, ever-increasing, ever-new war preparations."
Many years ago I read a manuscript play by a Dutch author, in the
opening scenes of which a Jew tried to sell another Jew a bill of goods.
Shylock number two wanted the stuff badly, but calculated that by a show
of indifference he might obtain them for a halfpenny less. On his part,
Isaac was as eager to sell as the other was to buy, but the threatened
impairment of his fortune called for strategy. So he feigned that he
did not care a rap whether the goods changed hands or not, and the two
shysters remained together a whole long act engaging in a variety of
business that had nought to do with the original proposition, each,
however, watching for opportunity to re-introduce it, now as a threat,
again as a bait, and the third and seventh and tenth time in jest. So
Bertha, having once disposed of the war preparation bogey, according to
Uncle Majesty's suggestion, now returned to it in slightly different
form. She was determined to discount Zara's prophecies at any cost.
Getting ready to fight was tantamount to backing down; spending billions
for guns and ammunition and chemicals and fortifications and espionage
and war scares and whatnots was mere pretext for keeping the pot boiling
in the workman's cottage, and the golden eagles rolling in the
financier's cash drawer, and so on _ad infinitum_. When Bertha had
finished she thought Zara's prophecies very poor stuff.
Franz came in for the full quota of that sort of argument out of a bad
conscience so warped by hypocrisy. Our Lady of the Guns no doubt
believed every word she said, or rather repeated--dear woman's way! She
always firmly trusts in what suits her, logic, proof to the contrary,
stubborn facts notwithstanding. Instinct or intuition, she calls it.
"That is no way to dispose of so grave a subject," said Franz.
"But what can I do?"
"Prevent more wholesale family disintegration, forestall future
mass-murder, future dunging of the earth with blood and human bones."
Franz put both hands on the girl's shoulders. "Bertha," he said
impressively, "make up your mind not to sign any more death-warrants,
stop making merchandise intended to rob millions of life and limb and
healthy minds, while those coming after them are destined physical or
moral cripples that one man's ambition may thrive."
"Shut down the works, you mean?" cried Bertha; and, womanlike, indulged
once more the soothing music of self-deception: "It would ruin the Ruhr
Valley, throw a hundred thousand and more out of work; and what could
they do, being skilled only in the industries created by my father and
grandfather?
"Papa, Uncle Alfred, the first Krupp--God bless their souls!--were they
founders of murder-factories, as you suggest? No, a thousand times no.
Their skill, their genius, their enterprise has been the admiration of
the world. Everybody admits that they were men animated by the highest
motives and principles. They made Germany."
"I don't deny it; I underline every word you have said, Bertha. The
foundations for Germany's greatness were laid within a stone's throw of
this window; much of her supremacy in politics and economics was
conceived between these four walls. But now that the goal is achieved,
that the Fatherland enjoys unprecedented wealth and prosperity--let well
enough alone."
"You talk as if I were the War Lord!" cried Bertha.
"You are his right hand: the War Lady."
"He is my guardian, my master."
"Only for a while. You don't have to submit to his dictation when of
age."
Carried away by emotion, Franz had spoken harshly at times, but now his
tone became coaxing.
"When you come into your own, promise me, Bertha, to accept no more
orders for armament and arms of any kind. Dedicate the greatest steel
plant of the world to enterprises connected with progress, with the
advancement of the human race! Build railways, Eiffel towers for
observation, machinery of all sorts, ploughs and other agricultural
implements, but for God's sake taboo once and for all preparations for
murder and destruction!"
Bertha covered her ears. "Don't use such words; they are uncalled for,
inappropriate." Then, with a woman's ill-logic, she repeated the last.
"'Destruction'--you don't take into consideration what your
'destructive' factors have done for my people, what they are doing for
humanity right along. Auntie Majesty thinks our charities and social
work superior to Rockefeller's, and God forbid that I ever stop or
curtail them."
"Yes! Think of your charities," said Franz; "take the Hackenberg case.
What is he--a soldier blasted and crippled in mind and body by the war
of 1870. Essen's industry made a wreck of Heinrich, and he costs you
one mark a day to keep for the rest of his life; three hundred and
sixty-five marks per year, paid so many decades, what percentage of your
father's profits in the war of 1870-71 does the sum total represent?"
"A fraction of a thousandth per cent., perhaps. Another fraction pays
for the son Johann's keep, another for that of the two younger boys,
another for Gretchen, etc., etc."
"But if there had been no war, Heinrich would not have been disabled,
and consequently would not have burdened charity with human wreckage! Do
you see my point?"
"Go on," said Bertha.
"Because you are used to it, maybe the Hackenberg case does not
particularly impress you. You were not born when Heinrich sallied forth
in the name of patriotism. But reflect: there are thousands of
charitable institutions like yours, not so richly endowed, not so
splendid to look upon, but charnel-houses for Essen war victims just the
same. And all filled to overflowing--even as the Krupp treasury is.
Yet that Franco-German war, that made the Krupps and necessitated the
asylums and hospitals, was Lilliputian compared with the Goliath war now
in the making--partly thanks to you, Bertha."
"But I have told you time and again there will be no war, that I have
the highest authority for saying so!" cried Bertha angrily.
"Authority," mocked Franz. "The French of 1870 had the no-war
'authority' of Napoleon III., the Germans that of William I., before the
edict went forth to kill, to maim, to destroy, to strew the earth with
corpses and fill the air with lamentations! So it will be this month,
this year, next year--for history ever repeats itself--until the hour
for aggression, which will be miscalled a defence of our holiest
principles and interests, has struck.
"The air pressure has increased," continued Franz, parting the window
curtains; "see the lowering clouds! And watch the storm coming up,
lashing them in all directions. West and east they are spreading, and,
look, north too! They are falling on Northern France, on the Lowlands
and Russia like a black pall."
"You prophesy a universal war?" shrieked Bertha.
"The answer is in your ledger. For thirty and more years your firm has
been arming the universe. Since your father's death you have distributed
armaments on a vaster scale than ever, and now, I understand, the pace
that killeth is to be still more increased.
"When you have furnished Germany with all the guns, the ammunition, the
chemicals, the flying machines, the cruisers, the submarines, the hand
grenades--what then? Presto! a pretext of the 1870 pattern, or
something similar, and Zara's prophecy will come true as sure as light
will burst from this Welsbach now."
Franz touched a button.
"Voila, Madame War Lady," he said, bowing himself out.
*CHAPTER XX*
*"AUNTIE MAJESTY" AND HER FROCKS*
Bertha on Her Dignity--On Thin Ice--Barbara Wants to Know--The
Empress's Toilette
"And now for a good talk," said Barbara, with a look upon the tirewoman
who had accompanied Bertha to Court. "Tell me all about Auntie
Majesty's 'Martha.'"
"Oh, she's far more important than this one," Bertha replied, patting
the "Frau's" cheek; "a Baroness like Mamma and in the Almanach de
Gotha."
"Better looking too than our Martha, is she not?" mocked Barbara.
"I won't go as far as that. She is too tall and angular and
spinster-like, and has a nose like Herr Krause--always red."
"Does she drink?" inquired Barbara.
"No," said Martha, thrusting out her formidable bosom; "she laces too
tight, poor thing!"
It was after ten p.m., and Barbara ought to have been in one of two
white-and-pink beds gracing the Young Misses' Chamber in Villa Huegel,
but Frau Krupp was away in Cologne and Martha the most indulgent of
governesses. Hence it had not been necessary for Bertha to exert her
authority to gain an hour out of bed for sister.
Bertha, who was sitting on a low "pouf," was convulsed with laughter at
Martha's pantomime. Shrieking, she knocked her forehead against her
knees, Barbara joining.
"And Auntie Majesty's Martha--the Baroness, I mean--does she put out the
linen and mend silk stockings and serve tea on the waitress's day out?"
continued Barbara her inquiries.
"Why not ask whether she makes the help's beds?" demanded Martha; and
then, in her drastic manner: "You are a baby, Fraulein Barbara."
But the Krupp heiress treated the question seriously. "No," she
replied, assuming an air of superiority. "The Baroness tells the
Empress what is fit to wear."
"_Unfit_, Fraulein means to say," whispered Martha.
"And besides----" continued Bertha.
"She tyrannises over the lower servants, such as Lenchen and me."
Barbara laughed heartily at Martha's sallies, but Bertha "had an attack
of dignity," as Barbara put it, and said to Martha: "Come now, who was
in Auntie Majesty's confidence, you or I?"
"Fraulein certainly had the run of Her Majesty's rooms, and I do hope
they were nicer and cleaner than Fraulein's," bristled up Martha.
"Don't quarrel," pleaded Barbara. "Soon it will be eleven, and then
both of you will shout 'bed' until you are hoarse. _Do_ go on, Bertha,
and don't you dare interrupt her again, Martha."
"Well," said Bertha, "I promised----" She settled down in the big
velvet fauteuil nearest the fire and assumed an oldish mien.
"I was sometimes present when the Baroness and Auntie Majesty discussed
new frocks and hats," she continued, "and I think if Mamma was in Madame
von H.'s place, Her Majesty would be--what shall I say?--more tastefully
dressed.
"Once she persuaded Auntie Majesty to accept a hat that made her look
seventy to a day: Gold lace and heliotrope velvet. I will buy Granny
one like it next time I go to Duesseldorf. At first Auntie did not seem
to care for it at all, but the Baroness made such a fuss. 'Majesty
looks enchanting,' she kept saying."
Here Martha dropped the courtliest of curtsies, "flapping her arms like
wings"--Barbara's description.
"'Charming,' 'ever youthful,' continued Bertha, imitating the Baroness.
"The right sort of talk too," said Martha. "Tell a woman of our
age--mine and Auntie Majesty's--that we look like sweet sixteen, with a
teapot for a bonnet, and we will wear it even at the opera."
"Well, did Auntie get Granny's hat?" asked Barbara.
"She did, and wore it when we went to the children's matinee at the
theatre in the Neues Palais; and I heard her sister, Princess Frederick
Leopold, tell her: 'Thank your stars that Will is not coming. He would
certainly advise you to send your new chapeau to----'" Bertha stopped
short.
"To?" asked Barbara, flipping a slipper in the air and catching it on
her naked foot.
"I can't tell," said Bertha; "it was not intended for me anyhow."