"Betrayed you, Leonie!" I echoed. "I have not betrayed you!"
"But you have!" she declared angrily, her eyes flashing upon me. "You
have broken your oath to me."
"I have broken no oath," I answered calmly; adding, "Let us sit down and
talk quietly."
"Talk quietly!" she cried, speaking rapidly in French. "Do you think I
can talk quietly with ruin staring me in the face?"
"In what manner does ruin threaten you?" I inquired, placing my hand
upon her arm in an effort to calm her.
She was terribly agitated, I could see, and her anger knew no bounds,
although she was striving strenuously to suppress it.
"You have betrayed my secret--the secret of my love for you!" she cried.
"That letter which you promised me to destroy is in the hands of my
bitterest enemy."
"Forgive me, Leonie," I cried quickly. "The letter was mysteriously
stolen from that writing-table there. How, I know not."
"Cannot you even guess who is the thief?"
I hesitated. The only person I suspected was Edith, who had been the
solitary occupant of that room while she waited for me. It was after
her departure that I found the drawer in confusion and the letter
missing.
"I have suspicion," I replied with some hesitation, "yet I feel assured
it is unfounded."
"Of whom?"
"Of a friend."
"A friend of yours?" she exclaimed quickly. "Therefore, an enemy of
mine. It is a woman. Come, admit it."
"I admit nothing," I answered with a forced smile, my diplomatic
instinct instantly asserting itself.
"Is it a woman, or is it not?" she demanded.
"I am not compelled to answer that question, Leonie," I remarked in a
quiet voice.
"But having betrayed me--or rather having allowed me to be betrayed--it
is surely only manly of you to endeavour to make amends!" she cried
reproachfully. "Even if you do not love me sufficiently to make me your
wife, that is hardly a reason why you should expose me to my enemies."
"I have not done so wilfully," I declared. "As the letter has been
stolen by an enemy, I feel sure that the suspicion resting upon my
friend is unfounded."
"But if the thief is a woman and she loves you, she would naturally be
my enemy, and seek to overthrow me," argued the Princess logically.
"It is my fault," I said. "I regret the incident, and seek your
forgiveness, Leonie. I had no idea that spies and thieves surrounded
me, as apparently they do, or I would have destroyed it instead of
keeping it as a cherished relic of one of the few romantic incidents of
my life."
"You w'ere very foolish to keep it, just as it was foolish of me to have
written it," she observed. "Cannot you see how compromised I am by it?
I have offered to betray to you a secret of State, a secret known only
to kings, emperors, and their immediate advisers, in return for your
love. I am self-condemned," she added wildly.
"But into whose hands has the letter passed?" I inquired, now quite
convinced of the extreme gravity of the situation.
"Into the possession of a man who is my most bitter enemy in all the
world. Ah, you don't know, Gerald, how I am suffering!"
She placed her hand upon her brow, and stood rigid and motionless.
"Why?"
"Because this man, with the evidence of my treason in his possession, is
endeavouring to force me into a hateful bondage. To save myself," she
added hoarsely, "I must obey, or else--"
"Or else what?" I inquired, looking at her in astonishment.
"Or else escape exposure and ruin by another method, more swift and more
to be trusted."
"I don't understand you. What do you mean?"
"Suicide," she answered in a low, hard voice, regarding me coldly, with
a truly desperate look in her eyes.
"Come, come, Leonie," I said quickly, "to talk like that is absurd."
"No, it is not in the least absurd," she protested, a heavy, serious
look upon her face. "Like yourself, I am the victim of a vile
conspiracy. This man has long sought to entrap me, and has, alas! now
succeeded."
"For what reason?"
She remained silent, as though doubting whether to tell me the whole
truth. In a few moments, however, she made a sudden resolve.
"Because he wishes to marry me," she answered briefly.
"And by holding this letter as a menace he now seeks to force you into a
marriage that is distasteful?"
"Distasteful!" she echoed. "I hate and detest him! Rather than marry
him I would prefer suicide."
"Why?"
"Because if I do not accept his conditions for the return of that letter
he will expose me," she answered in despair.
"Has he threatened this?"
"Yes."
"And what is your response?"
"I have refused, Gerald. Even though he were not so hateful I could not
marry him, because I love you."
She was trembling with agitation, and tears stood in her fine eyes.
"Love for me is out of the question, Leonie," I answered kindly, yet
firmly. "Now that you find yourself in this critical situation it is
for us both to strive to frustrate this enemy of yours. It is my duty
to assist you."
"Ah, you cannot!" she said in a tone of utter despair. "The power he
holds over me by possessing the written evidence of my treason--my offer
to betray to you the secret of my Emperor--is complete, and he is well
aware of it. He demands marriage with me, or he will ruin me, and brand
me as a traitress to my country and my Emperor."
"This man is, of course, now aware of what passed between us during my
visit at Chantoiseau?" I said.
"He knows everything," she answered. "I was living quietly at
Rudolstadt, and endeavouring to forget you, when of a sudden, a
fortnight ago, there came to the castle a stranger, who sent in his card
sealed in an envelope. My servants regarded him with some suspicion,
and well they might, for when I opened the envelope and took out the
card I knew that at last the blow had fallen. He had dared to come and
seek me there."
"You saw him?"
"Yes, he demanded an interview. We had not met for nearly two years,
yet he approached me with a declaration of love upon his lips. I
laughed at him, but presently he held me dumb by producing from his
pocket the compromising letter. He began by pointing out how easily he
could ruin me socially, and prove me to be a traitress. He made an end
by offering to place the letter unreservedly in my hands on the day I
became his wife."
"He had declared his love to you before?"
"Yes, two years ago. But I knew him too well, and hated him too
thoroughly, to take a favourable view of his ridiculous declaration."
"And this man?" I asked. "Who is he?"
"He was once in the employ of my father, Prince Kinsky von Wchinitz, and
was administrator of the estates at Wchinitz and Tettau, in Bohemia.
Immediately my husband died and the feudal estates of Schwazbourg passed
into my possession, as well as those of my late father, this man pressed
his claim. He first endeavoured to pay court to me; then, on finding I
was cold to his attentions, he became threatening, and I was compelled
to discharge him. Afterwards he drifted away, became a chevalier
d'industrie, and at last, because of my refusal to hear his repeated
declarations of affection, he made a dastardly attempt upon my life."
"He tried to kill you?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes," she responded. "Had it not been for the timely intervention of a
stranger--a person whom I did not see--he would have murdered me."
"Through jealousy?"
"Yes, through jealousy."
"And this fellow's name?" I asked, my anger rising at the thought of a
discharged employe thus holding Leonie in his power, and, despite the
fact that he had made an attempt upon her life, badgering her to marry
him. "Is there any reason why I should not know it?"
There was a brief silence. She hesitated to tell me, and not until I
had pressed her several times to disclose to me his name would she
answer.
"The man who is seeking to drive me to destruction and to suicide is,"
she replied reluctantly, "an adventurer of the worst type--a man who is
seeking to make a wealthy marriage at the expense of a woman whom he
holds in his power, and whom he can ruin at any moment if he chooses."
"His name? Tell me."
"His name is Count Rodolphe d'Egloffstein-Wolfsburg."