"Ach, my dear children, have mercy on old bones! And I bring you bad
news! The Tronfolger and his wife were shot to-day in Sarajevo. Oh,
poor Sophie!" and Excellenz, who was an intimate friend of the Duchess,
burst into tears. "It's quite true too--official before I left Vienna
this afternoon."
But Jan was before her at the house and called as he drove up, to the
footman on the steps--
"Tronfolger mit Frau heute geschossen."
German, which he insisted on speaking, was not Jan's strong point.
The footman, a Bohemian and anti-Austrian, sniffed at this lack of
breeding, and answered very casually "So." Excellenz, though she was
still weeping, was very angry and shook her fist at Jan, but she got
her innings in the hall where the Princess was awaiting--in perplexity
as she saw Excellenz's wrath and tears.
"What, Francesca, you arrive in tears at K----?"
"Yes, I should think I do--it's too awful," and Excellenz sobbed out
her news.
"What nonsense!" said the Princess. "How can you believe these wild
stories? Besides, who would shoot that pair?"
"But it's official."
"What is official?" asked the Prince appearing.
"The Archduke and Sophie were shot to-day in Sarajevo."
"Then what the devil made them go there? They might know beforehand
that they wouldn't get out of there with whole skins," he replied,
greeting his guest.
In the drawing-room I found the General, who in the excitement of the
moment had been forgotten. He said as usual, "Pooh! that's not a funny
joke, Sherry."
"That may be; but it's official, and you ought not to receive your
'officials' with 'pooh,' but perhaps it's your way here. Here is
Excellenz von R---- in tears--she has brought the news from Vienna."
"Old wives' tales! I don't believe it."
Excellenz nevertheless persuaded him.
"Donnerwetter! Jesus Maria! And she tried to save him! Plucky
woman--always was plucky. Skinflint though--a skinflint. Too fond
of the Jesuits! This plot was arranged in Serbia, I'll stake my
life--stake my life. Ach, those Serbs! The scum of creation--scum of
creation! We must exterminate them one day. They have always been a
trouble, but this will bring about their end at last. Ach, the poor
Archduke and the poor Duchess! Ach! Pooh!"
"Personally," said the Prince, "I think you needn't be so angry with
the Serbs. They've done us a good turn really. The Archduke--it's
useless to pretend otherwise, General--was the best hated man in
Austria, and the Duchess the best-hated woman. Both cared only for the
Church. They won't really be regretted. The young Karl Franz Josef may
be the saving of Austria at a critical moment."