The funeral was over, and Eduard, ensconced in a corner of the
carriage, was on his way back to the castle. He took off his shako
and smoothed his hair. "Well that's finished! Not so bad after all.
I'd thought the whole mumbo-jumbo was going to be insufferable. It's
not much worse than a military parade. A bit too much gaped at--like
the emperor's birthday celebrations.... But the driving out in state
was horrible.... Old Oehlke made quite a decent oration; a trifle
long, but not over unctuous. Dealt a little curtly with Stefan, who
was, after all, a man of feeling. I wonder what his widow's going to
do? ... Didn't she really ever have a child? ... Mathilde seems put
out; even her attempt to do a little public sobbing did not deceive
any one. Is this all one married Heinrich for? None of the joys of
love, no children, and then at forty to be the relict of a prince who
never came to the throne! And they're so poor! If only I had money
to spare I'd dower her for a second marriage.... Papa wishes at all
costs to pull the purse-strings tight. He's right. When all's said
and done, it's the people who have to pay.... No, I'll not go out of
my way to influence him.... Changes are always so obvious; he'd
notice at once.... Glad I got him to stay at home this appalling
weather. What rain! Last time I saw him ... must have been in March
... six or seven weeks ago ... we dined in some place or other on
Unter den Linden, and he had an extra dish of carrots so as to gain
the time to talk me over and bring me to reason. It was touching to
witness his ill-success! He is absolutely incapable of commanding
those he loves. If we were as bombastic as our brethren in Berlin,
we'd nickname him 'The Good'! His eyes are blue.... I always feel I
am having a glimpse of heaven when I look into them...."
The prince's cortège had reached the central streets of the little
capital, and every window was crowded with the faces of those eager
to see the procession go by. So Eduard replaced his shako, sat up
straight, put on the facial expression his people might expect from
him after the funeral, bowed to right and to left, studying meanwhile
the countenance of the populace--in so far as that was possible
through his mask of heroic moderation which (with his characteristic
irony) he commended himself for having assumed.
"Broad heads, square rather than long, stubborn as are the middle
Germans by temperament, their mistrust only overcome by degrees....
And yet loyal to the core, because their dynastic instinct is so
strong.... Is there no end to this stately avenue leading to the
castle? Ghastly! Three months' leave every year, otherwise I
resign, as William so politely informed Bismarck.... There stands
the worthy Tauernheim on the steps, ready to receive me! An end to
these musings! To business!"
"His Highness is expecting Your Highness in the blue study."
"Where is the doctor?"
"He's waiting in the next room."
Eduard entered the hall, and motioned the old doctor back into the
chair from which he had risen. Taking a seat himself, the prince
removed his shako, sighed, and selected a cigarette.
"Everything went off smoothly--even the rain!"
"I'm sorry my professional duties should have kept me away from
paying His Highness the prince my last respects...."
"Don't mention it, my dear Doctor! And now--are we alone? Are the
doors shut? Or only closed?" Eduard got up to try the handles.
Then resuming his chair, he continued: "You are amused? But there's
always some Paul or Max or other, whose tall, black figure appears
from nowhere, all unexpectedly, offering sherry--like Erda in
Siegfried! Well, now that the black fate has fallen on me and
nothing can throw it off, I am going to ask you the question which I
had hoped my two brothers would save me from having to put."
The doctor looked gravely through spectacles which in no way dimmed
the shrewdness of his eyes, and said in a matter-of-fact voice:
"I am sorry to say that the prince is rapidly going down hill. I
told the late prince as much last March, and urged him to make ready.
Last Sunday, after the terrible catastrophe, he had another attack in
the night, which was only relieved by injections of camphor and
morphine. Next morning his urine was loaded with albumin, as always
after excitement. His pulse intermits every sixteenth or seventeenth
beat. He has lost all interest in his work. Then you must remember
that he is seventy-two years of age. Your Highness must realize that
every day he is spared should be regarded as an unexpected gift."
Eduard got up, threw his cigarette end into the fireplace, strode
over to the window, and lost himself in meditation. "Have I not read
all this before? The crown prince, in the uniform of a hussar, spurs
clinking, returning from a funeral, cannot bide the time for his
father's death.... God, what would I not give this man if he could
save my father for another decade--nay, merely for another three
years!..."
Eduard turned to the doctor:
"Many thanks. I'll go in to see him." At the door he halted, and,
turning again to the doctor, inquired casually, as it were: "No
excitement, I suppose?"
"I must even urge that even those who have come to pay formal visits
of condolence be not admitted to audience."
Huddled together, wearing a tunic of ancient cut, the old prince, in
the half light of his spacious study, was sitting in front of the
writing-table at which he had done his work for the last twenty
years. He was pleased with his son's appearance, the dapper uniform
becoming the slender figure well; and he was the more pleased seeing
that hitherto he had never been able to persuade this youngest child
of his to don the military livery unless directly commanded to do so.
"He's much smarter than he'd have us believe," thought the ageing
prince as Eduard bent low to kiss his father's forehead.
"A fine brow," said Eduard to himself, "so nobly arched and
furrowed...."
"Well," asked his father, "did it all go off decently, and in order?
How did Adalbert behave?"
Eduard gave his report.
"So, he was not the first to be at the vault," murmured the father.
"It would have been a handsome thing to do. And what about Mathilde?"
"Not a tear."
"Ah! I did not force him into that marriage. Tauernheim always
thought it would have a soothing effect upon... He may have been
right. But I'm against these marriages of cousins.... It's better
to be childless than to breed idiots.... I imagined that, should
Heinrich not feel inclined ... Stefan would provide the necessary
progeny. Well, all that is over and done with now.... I am glad
your mother did not live to see this day! Ah, Eduard my son, I am
very weary. Are you going to take my place?"
Eduard, profoundly stirred, would have stroked his father's brow; but
he took the proffered chair, placing his sword between his booted
legs, and saying quietly:
"I would ask Your Highness to put at least some of the work on my
shoulders."
The old man looked up, he saw the fair head, with its smoothly parted
hair, bowed deferentially before him, he passed his hand over his own
white locks, then he said:
"My dear Eduard, let's have none of that. We must speak to one
another like two human beings. This may be the last time we shall
ever talk together--or almost the last! As soon as possible I intend
to pass the burden on to you: the whole burden when I go to join your
mother. You are rather hypermodern, you know, and Tauernheim is
anxious about the future; in fact, they are all worried about my
death, now they know that Prince Eduard is to be the next ruler. For
my part, I am tranquil, for I know you're a good fellow. Shall I
assume Polonius airs with you, and teach you how to behave? You know
the ropes as well as I do. Always have the people in mind--but don't
try to play the twenty-first century game, especially in this little
country. Be democratic, that goes without saying; but not Karl Marx,
my dear Eduard, though I know you think a lot of him. Even Herwegh
would be too strong meat. We are nothing but Liliputians here.
Still, I don't need to go over all these things with you, and waste
precious time. You've known my mind these ten years, and have seen
eye to eye with me." He paused, making himself more comfortable in
his arm-chair. "One thing, however, I have to ask, my dear Eduard.
You see how quickly a motor car can be hurled down a mountain side.
You must hasten to provide for the succession."
Eduard had determined not to disturb the serenity of his father's
mood by disclosing any of his personal plans. He said quite
casually, therefore:
"Of course, Papa, I'll marry. You have Leonore in mind?"
The old man smiled, and in a flash it was borne in on Eduard that
death had indeed laid a hand on his father, for the eyes that were
wont to twinkle with merriment, were now apathetic.
"The question is, rather, whom have you in mind."
"Raison d'état, my dear Father. We have often spoken of this before."
"Eduard?"
"Yes, Papa?"
"What sort of a time did you have on the yacht? I got the photo you
sent--was it from Messina?"
Eduard fidgeted with his sword-belt.
"The 'Excelsior'? Oh, it was quite charming, those weeks on board."
"And did you gain your end? I doubt not that it was charming--but a
capricious young woman, and five men hanging around--because Scherer
of course had to count as a possible rival...."
The father had hoped great things from the cruise; for from what he
had learned in Berlin, he could not but believe that this clever
woman would bring the prince to the point of making an offer. Now
that the disaster had changed the order of succession, he was seized
with dread, knowing that the fate of the little country hung in the
balance. The son, guessing what was passing through his father's
mind, was resolved at all costs to save the invalid from agitation,
for the dying ruler was now obviously not so much concerned about a
morganatic marriage as about the lack of offspring competent to
succeed, this implying an eventuality the old man had been so careful
to guard against--the passing of the country into the hands of the
collateral line. Eduard had made up his mind not to speak plainly,
and yet deference for his father's wisdom and kindliness, made him
unwilling to tell a direct lie. At the same time, foreseeing the
question, he had vowed not to commit himself in words to anything
which he would have to forswear after his father's death. He
therefore evaded the immediate issue by rejoining:
"Yes, Scherer is a man of importance, and, besides, quite
disinterested. He should be invited to advise us in financial
matters."
"He's trying to fob me off," thought the father, and, obsessed by the
thought that tomorrow would be too late, he asked without
circumlocution:
"Did Scherer, too, win the lady's regard?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Eduard?"
"Yes, Papa?"
"Are you still free?"
"What just do you mean by that?"
"No commitments?"
"None," he exclaimed, while he thought: "Unfortunately, none as yet!"
The old man breathed more freely.
"But Father, heirs are not produced by love!"
"I need not worry, then?"
"He wants me to give him my promise," thought Eduard. "And I am
determined not to give him any such thing." He smiled, and said
politely:
"A difficult thing to guarantee, my dearest Father. Heinrich, for
instance, had none in three years...."
"He's a good diplomatist," thought the father, "and it is a pity he
cannot remain in the foreign diplomatic service." He, too, smiled,
as he said:
"I feel confident you will do all that in you lies so that there
shall be no change here...?"
Eduard shifted his sword-point an inch or so, hesitated, and then
said:
"As a man of honour I can, of course, only speak for myself; and if I
am called upon I will, when the time comes, make use of every power I
possess...."
"The hours speed by," thought the old man, once more filled with
anxiety, "and the youngster takes refuge in rhetoric! He needs to be
decoyed--or at least his affections." He studied the bowed head, and
the great flat surface of the writing-table seemed to him a symbol.
He pushed back his chair; he needed to win his son's confidence, and
yet he hesitated. At last he made up his mind. Almost in a whisper
he said:
"Eduard, my dear boy, won't you promise me...?" The young prince
trembled and, against his will, the sword clattered lightly as he
held it between his knees.
"What is it, Papa?"
"You will see to it that there are legitimate heirs?..." He laid his
gnarled hand across the table, towards his son; there was no tremor
now. But Eduard did not raise his head; his eyes were fixed on the
withered hand that lay there begging for one last gift which was at
the same time the first it had ever been held out to receive. He was
permeated with the realization of how intensely lonely was this dying
man before him, an old man who had just laid two sons in the grave;
at the same time he envisaged the future, as for three days he had
envisaged it, with Diana at his side.... He rose to his feet; he
took the old hand in his own: he kissed it: but he spoke no word.
"I have promised nothing," said the son to himself, as the world
swayed purple before his eyes.
"He loves her," thought the father. "In that case I cannot bind him."
Silently, the two men looked at one another. Each knew that he had
been understood.
The silence persisted for many seconds. Then the old man rose
stiffly from his chair, looked about him, searching for his papers,
sat down again, invited his son to do likewise, and pressed the bell.
A manservant came to the door.
"Ask His Excellency Tauernheim to come in."
Another minute passed in silence. The young man's eyes rested
lovingly on the old man, and Eduard marvelled that, after so many
shattering blows, the veteran could put on the harness once more.
The minister entered. The old monarch spoke:
"Please take a seat, my dear Tauernheim. Henceforward we shall
always be three to discuss our plans--for Prince Eduard will want to
take his bearings. Here, for instance, is the project for the
Neuburg highroad. How does the matter stand...?"