THE HABSBURG RAVEN
The Emperor heard her through until the end, with a word here, a sudden
question there, the gravity of the girl's disclosures searing more
painfully the deeply bitten lines at eye and brow. But he did not
flinch. It seemed that grief and pain had already done their worst to
that frail body. For whatever this Habsburg's failings, fear was not one
of them. There was resolution too in the clenching of the freckled fist
upon the chair arm and in his footsteps as he started up from his chair
and walked the length of the room. Bowed though his shoulders were with
the weight of his years, he was still a figure to respect--a
personality. Marishka watched furtively, waiting for him to speak again
as he strode back and forth, but his brows were deeply tangled in
thought and his shoulders were more bent than ever. It almost seemed
that he had forgotten her presence.
But at last he turned toward where Marishka, who had risen and was still
standing, was awaiting his pleasure. He came straight toward her and
extended his fingers. She sank to her knees to kiss them, but he caught
her by the hand and restrained her.
"You have done well, Countess Strahni," he said quietly. "The men of
your House have always been brave soldiers and good citizens, the women
comely and loyal, and you, my child, have today done much to continue
the honorable traditions of your family. Austria is, for you, as she is
for us all, the Mother, whom God blesses in the loyalty of her children.
As for those"--and his brows clouded--"who follow the devices of their
own hearts, those who consider neither the family law nor the human
law----" He paused, turned and sank into his chair, leaning forward
again intently as the new thought struck him. "Who was your companion,
Countess?"
Marishka flushed a little but said quietly,
"A gentleman--an Englishman----"
"So!" again the rising inflection, followed this time by a slight frown.
"An Englishman!"
"A friend of mine, Sire," she went on with an access of dignity. "Herr
Renwick, an attaché of the British Embassy----"
"Ah, I understand. He has told?"
"He has given me his promise to reveal nothing until I had been at
Schönbrunn and then only with my permission."
"I see," said the Emperor with a frown. "He is discreet?"
"He has a reputation for discretion, Sire; I think he may be trusted."
"So," said the Emperor. "Where is he now?"
"I was to communicate with him later."
"Giving him permission to speak?"
"Yes, Sire."
"It is a pity," he muttered, as though meditating aloud. "We have washed
enough linen in public. And this----" He turned abruptly toward her.
"You have influence with this Herr Renwick?" he asked keenly.
Marishka was painfully embarrassed.
"A little, Sire, I think."
"You have served Austria well today, Countess Strahni. You can serve her
again if you can prevent this Herr Renwick from communicating with Sir
Herbert Southgate.... This is no concern of England's."
"I will do what I can, Sire. But the matter, it seemed, was of grave
importance to Herr Renwick. He is an able diplomat and most
intelligent."
The Emperor regarded her almost wistfully.
"It would be a pity," he said, "if Herr Renwick should be discredited at
the Austrian court----"
"It would ruin him, Sire," said Marishka apprehensively; "if he tells
what he knows, he would only be doing his duty."
"He must not tell, child," said the Emperor gravely. "This is Austria's
secret and her sorrow. You realize that, do you not?"
Marishka bowed her head, painfully.
"Yes, Sire."
"You will promise me to do what you can?"
She looked into the face of this tired old man and a great pity for him
swept over her.
"I will, Sire. I will ask him not to tell--demand it of him even if----"
She paused and hid her face in her hands, unable to say more, trying to
hide the true nature of the sacrifice he was asking of her.
The Emperor understood and laid a kindly hand upon her shoulder.
"I understand, my daughter. I pray that no bitterness may come between
you, on account of this. Responsibility comes to you early, and yet you
cannot--must not shirk it."
"And if he refuses----?" she pleaded.
The wrinkled face broke into a smile, the gray eyes were bright in
admiration.
"I am sure," he said gallantly, "that Herr Renwick could refuse you
nothing. Were I younger----" He paused with a sigh and smiled again. "I
am not sure even now that I am not a trifle jealous of this discreet
Englishman of yours." And, then, aware of her intense embarrassment,
"But I am sure that you will succeed."
"I shall try, Sire," she murmured.
And still he seemed loath to let her go, walking toward the window where
he stood in the sunlight looking down upon the lovely gardens beneath
him.
"Perhaps you did not know, Countess, that this visit to the roses of
Konopisht has caused us some concern here in Vienna. Berchtold, who went
yesterday to Konopisht, will, of course, discover nothing. The Duchess
of Hohenberg is a very clever woman. You know her as a friend. If her
loyalty to her friends is as sincere as her ambitions for her children,
then you can surely have no cause for complaint. Friendship begets
friendship, but those who love Austria may not serve other gods--or
goddesses. You have considered these things, and however difficult the
task--have chosen?"
"It has been bitter, Sire. I can never go back to Konopisht."
"I am sorry. A terrible lesson awaits Sophie Chotek. I have been sorely
tried. As for the Archduke Franz--a reckoning--a reckoning----"
She saw the old man pause and start a pace back from the window, toward
which he stared, wide-eyed and immovable. There, upon the sill of the
window, a black bird had suddenly appeared and hopped awkwardly to and
fro. It seemed perfectly at home, and not in the least frightened,
peering into the room with its head cocked upon one side, a baleful
purplish glitter in its eye.
In a flash Marishka remembered the legend which connects every
misfortune of the House of Habsburg with the appearance of this bird of
ill omen: the flight of ravens at Olmütz, the raven of the ill-fated
Maximilian at Miramar, the raven of the Archduchess Maria Christina on
the eve of her departure for her future kingdom of Spain, the raven
which came to the Empress Elizabeth on the afternoon before the day of
her assassination,--all these incidents so closely connected with the
royal figure before her, passed quickly across her mind as they must
have crossed that of the Emperor. He sank into his chair and she
followed his gaze through the window again. The somber bird had gone.
Marishka stood in silence, not daring to move, aware of the terrible
undercurrent of thought which must be racking the mind of her sovereign,
this man of sorrows, who stood upon the brink of the grave and peace,
and yet who must still live and suffer until the curse of the Countess
Karolyi should be utterly fulfilled.
"Sire," she muttered after a moment, "can I----"
He stirred, and raised a pallid face to hers. It was quite composed now,
but marked with a sadness inexpressible.
"You may leave me now, child. I am a little tired. If you will touch the
bell upon the table----"
He paused as she did so, and a servant entered.
"You will tell Prince Montenuovo that the audience is concluded," he
said.
Marishka fell upon her knees before him, and touched his fingers to her
lips.
"May God bless Your Majesty," she murmured half-hysterically, scarcely
knowing what she said, "and give you peace."
She was aware of his smile as she arose.
"Go, Countess," he said, "you have done well. Keep this secret at
whatever the cost to yourself. Those who love Austria must now be
prepared to suffer for her. My blessing, child."
She obeyed the gesture of his hand and followed the High Chamberlain
into the outer corridor.
* * * * *
Marishka's first thought, upon emerging from the palace, was that she
must find Hugh Renwick at once. A new idea of her duty had been born in
her. The importance of keeping this secret of theirs from England had
not seemed as obvious before her visit to Schönbrunn. The thought of her
lover's possible refusal of her request now seemed appalling. As she
remembered his sober face last night in the automobile, when this topic
had caused her a moment of unhappiness, it seemed that his refusal to
accede to her request was more than possible. She had liked Hugh Renwick
because he was strong, honest, reliable, serious,--qualities she had not
found abundant among the younger men of the ancient families of her
country. She loved him now because, against many obstacles, he had at
last carried her heart by storm. But she realized that the very
qualities she had most admired in him were the very ones that would make
her present task most difficult.
He had given his word not to reveal the secret to his Ambassador without
her permission. That was his promise, given, she knew, grudgingly, and
only because he felt for the moment that her duty took precedence over
his own. But was it, after all, merely a question of precedence? And
would he, now that he had kept his promise so far, insist upon doing his
manifest duty to his own country? Fears assailed her that she might not
be able to prevail. His love for her was untried. How far might she rely
upon it in this inevitable conflict between them? And if he refused her!
The motor car of the Prince carried her to the apartments of the
Baroness Racowitz, where, after a rapidly thought-out explanation of her
sudden visit which seemed satisfactory, she wrote a note to Hugh
Renwick, asking him to come at once to her, addressing it to his
apartments in the Strohgasse and telling the servant if he was not at
home to take it to the Embassy. This note dispatched, her mind somewhat
more at ease, she joined the Baroness at luncheon.
Baroness Racowitz, her father's sister, was a woman of liberal views.
Educated in England, she had absorbed some of the democratic spirit of
the West, and so looked with favor upon the suit of the young Englishman
who had won his way into Marishka's heart. Today, however, in spite of
the confession which trembled upon her lips, Marishka remained silent.
And the mere fact that she did not speak added conviction of the danger
which threatened her happiness and Hugh Renwick's.
As the afternoon waned she grew apprehensive, and it was not until
evening that he came. His appearance did little to reassure her.
"Your note did not reach me until a few moments ago," he began soberly.
"I went upon a mission to the ministry which has kept me all day."
"I have been worried," she began nervously. "I went to Schönbrunn this
morning----"
"I know it," he broke in quickly. "Otway, of the Embassy, saw you
leaving in the Prince's car."
Something in his tone, in the avidity with which he had seized upon her
phrase, warned her of the truth.
"Oh, Hugh," she cried, "you have already told!"
His voice sank a note lower, and its very earnestness seemed to make the
barrier between them the greater. "This morning when I left you, I wrote
a complete statement of what happened at Konopisht, and gave it to a
servant with instructions to deliver it at the Embassy at a certain
hour. When I tell you that I was bidden to the Ministry this afternoon,
closely questioned and detained in violation of all precedent, you will
understand that from my own point of view, I acted wisely."
"You mean----"
"I mean that larger forces than yours and mine have taken control of the
situation."
"Then your message has been delivered?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I cannot believe it of you----" she said, staring at him in
anguish.
He smiled gently.
"I have only done my duty----"
"Your duty!" she said bitterly. "And what of your duty to me? You
promised----"
"Merely," he put in quickly, "that I would wait until you had been to
Schönbrunn."
"No, no, you promised," she said, with rising anger. "It was my
secret--not yours. I have never given you permission to reveal it."
"Nor having been to Schönbrunn would have given it now, Marishka," he
said firmly.
"And knowing this, you use subterfuge, an unmanly recantation--break
your promised word----"
"I have broken no promise, Marishka, listen----"
"Nothing that you can say----"
She rose, her face hidden in her hands. "Oh, you have done me a
damage--irreparable! I too have promised----"
"The Emperor!"
"My sovereign--he asked this secrecy of me and you--the man I----"
"Marishka, I love you," he pleaded, trying to take her hand. "Anything
but this! Can't you understand? I would have betrayed my trust. The
situation you placed me in was impossible. Great mischief is brewing in
Europe. Could I sit idly by and let my country be in ignorance of it?
God knows what is to happen, but whatever comes your country and mine
can have no quarrel--any more than you and I can have. England is
strong. No nation in Europe can endure without her friendship. Can't you
see? I have done Austria no wrong--a service, rather, Marishka; and
you----"
"You can do me no further service, Herr Renwick," she said coldly,
rising.
He was on his feet too, his face pale, regarding her steadily.
"I cannot believe that you are willing to blame me for doing my duty.
Love can only exist in an atmosphere of respect, Marishka. Could you
have cared for me if I had been willing to seek your favor at the
expense of my own honor? Could you? Think."
"Those who can thrive politically upon the misfortunes of my country are
my country's enemies--and mine," she said coldly.
"I have done your country no harm--nor you. Listen, Marishka," he
pleaded tensely. "Look at me. I love you, dear, with all my heart and
soul, I love you. You cannot forget what happened to us yesterday. I
will not give you up----"
"You must--I pray that you will leave me, Herr Renwick," and she moved
past him toward a door.
Renwick straightened. Whatever hopes he had had in his heart that
Marishka might forgive him for acting without her consent, her action
left no doubt as to her present intentions. The bitterness the girl's
fatalism had predicted yesterday had fallen upon them quickly. But he
would not despair. As the girl was yet to learn, Renwick was not one who
despaired easily. But his years of service had given him discretion.
"I cannot believe that you are quite in earnest," he said quietly. "I
will call upon you again when you have had time to weigh my action
impartially----"
"I shall not be at home to you."
"Nevertheless," he said coolly, "I shall come."
Her shoulders moved disdainfully. "It should be enough that I----"
"Marishka," he broke in again and came toward her, "at least give me a
chance to speak to you again--tomorrow----"
The curtains beside her parted abruptly as she fled, leaving Renwick
staring helplessly at the embroidered hangings.
He stood awkwardly for a moment, like a figure suddenly frozen, and then
dropping his arms to his sides turned and sought his hat and stick. For
the present at least there seemed nothing else to do. He descended the
stairs, a deeply puzzled frown upon his brows, and went out into the
darkness of the street.
Courts and camps, they say, are the best schools, and Renwick had not
lived his thirty years in vain. He had known since last night what he
must do in England's service, and he had also known what havoc that
service must work in Marishka's mind. He had foreseen the inquietude of
the Austrian government at his possession of this state secret, and had
known that his relations with Marishka must be put in jeopardy. He knew
that she must request his silence, that he must refuse her, and that no
woman's pride, put to the test, could brook such a refusal. Like
Marishka, he had had a brief hope that this love might survive the
ordeal put upon it, but he had not been long in discovering that the
Emperor's request to Marishka had made his action seem unpardonable. And
yet he had known as he knew now, that no other course had been open to
him. Since Marishka's early visit to the Palace, an undercurrent of
events had moved swiftly. The fact that he had received a note from
Baron Lichteveld asking him to call at the Ministry, the interview
between them full of allusions on the Baron's part which showed a
complete knowledge of the situation; a veiled request, a veiled threat,
to both of which Renwick had appeared oblivious. These, and an
uncomfortable sense that he was being detained, had at last made Renwick
open his lips. The information of which he was possessed, he had told
the Baron, was in the hands of those who would at the proper time place
it before the British Ambassador. The firmness of his attitude had
brought the interview, apparently pleasant and quite unofficial, to a
sudden ending, and Renwick had left the Ministry, aware that his own
official position in Vienna had suddenly become precarious.
His statement was now at the Embassy, and its astounding contents had
been read by his Chief. He made his way thither, somewhat dubious as to
the thrill of his achievement, aware of a shadow about him, the ghost of
yesterday's joy, which made all success save the intimate personal one
that he most craved, flat, stale, and unprofitable. In the darkness of
the street he was aware, too, that he was being observed and followed,
but he went boldly toward his destination, sure that as a member of the
staff of the British Embassy, his person at least partook of the
official immunity of his Chief.
But there were other forces arrayed against him with which he had not
reckoned. At a deserted and unlighted corner he found his progress
blocked by two figures who attempted to engage him in a conversation.
Now thoroughly awake to a personal danger which no official immunity
could minimize, he was at once upon his guard, moving quickly into the
middle of the street. The two men followed him, and another whom he had
not seen came upon him from the rear. He dodged the blow of a stick
which caught him a stinging blow upon the forearm, but he sprang aside,
striking a furious blow full in the face of one of his antagonists and
leaping out of harm's way as the third came on; and then, finding
discretion the better part of valor, took to his heels, emerging into
the Ringstrasse some moments later, with no greater damage than a
bruised arm and the loss of his breath and hat.
The Embassy in the Metternichgasse fortunately was not far away, and he
reached the building without further mishap, now fully aware of the
desperateness of his enemies, whom he did not doubt were employed by
those whose interests in his secret were more important even than those
of the Austrian government. Who? It was obvious. There were other
agencies at work, which drew their information from high sources with
which they had little in common. A little bewildered by the rapid march
of events, but now certain of the web of intrigue and hostility of which
he was the center, Renwick entered the office of the Embassy, breathing
a sigh of relief that he was again for the present safe within its
familiar portals.
The Ambassador was at his desk in his private office, and Renwick went
in to him immediately, the grave faces of his Chief and Captain Otway,
the military attaché, assuring him that his information had already been
received and discussed.
"Ah, Renwick," said the Ambassador, rising, "glad you've come. We were
beginning to fear that something had happened to you. Why, what's the
matter? You're as white as a sheet----"
"Am I, sir? Oh, it's nothing. You got my message?"
The ambassador nodded and then quickly, "Give him a drink, Otway." And
then as the other moved across the room to obey, "You were attacked--in
the street?"
Renwick laughed. "Oh, don't bother, please. I'm quite all right--just a
bit of a breather--that's all. You see--I ran for it. Safer, I thought.
I could have done for the beggars, if I'd had a heavier stick, but I
didn't want to make a rumpus. You see, I did well in putting the thing
on paper."
"Are you hurt?"
"Merely a bruised arm. Little chap with a stick--behind me."
"Most extraordinary! I can hardly believe that the government would
dare----"
"It isn't the government, sir, I'm afraid," he said, with conviction, as
he took his whiskey and soda. "There are others who have more to lose
than the Emperor's party by this revelation----"
"Yes, that may be so," replied the Ambassador judicially, pacing the
floor. "Perhaps you're right, Renwick. But now that you're safe, we
should only concern ourselves with the greater issue. Tell me again in
your own words all that has happened since yesterday morning."
Renwick obeyed, and it was far into the night before he finished, while
the faces of his auditors grew grave again. The security of this well
ordered office, with the familiar tokens of distant peaceful England all
about them, made a prosaic background for the visions which were
flashing through the minds of these three Englishmen. Even now, to
Renwick, as he related his experience again, the whole thing seemed
incredible, and the reiterated questions of his Chief, who was a prudent
man, might have shaken a less convincing witness. But Renwick had
dreamed no dream, and the returning ache in his arm left no room to
doubt the actuality of his experience.
"You have done England a service, Renwick," said the Ambassador at last,
magnanimously. "It isn't often that such crumbs of information are
offered us--in such a way. But we will take them--and digest them
overnight. I want to sleep on this matter. And you--you will stay here
tonight, Renwick. It will be safer. Until tomorrow, gentlemen----"
And so he dismissed them.