THE COUNTESS’S RUSE
As we crossed the hall she turned to leave the house by the front door,
where Zoiloff was standing.
“I have something still to say to you,” I said shortly, as I opened the
door of the room where I had seen her before this futile interview.
“You wish to thank me, I suppose, for having been the means of
revealing to each of you the other’s love,” she answered, with another
of her flaunting laughs; though she changed quickly and said: “You may
spare your thanks. I had a purpose--and you will soon learn the reason.
I am a dangerous woman, for all your contempt of me.”
“Too dangerous to be at liberty, Countess,” I answered curtly. “It is
to tell you that I have brought you here.”
“What do you mean? That you will dare----” The words died away as she
read my purpose in my eyes, and the first symptom of fear I had ever
seen in her showed itself, only however to be at once crushed out of
sight. One of her bitter sneers followed. “So I have put my foot in
a trap, you think, and your lovely Princess is but a paltry decoy. A
truly royal part for the august ruler that is to be!”
“Your railing falls on unheeding ears, Countess. I have made my
decision.”
“You are an ingrate, my lord the Count; and in your haste to strike at
me you are forgetting the wound you do to your Princess.”
“Your insulting references will not turn me from my course,” I said
shortly, my anger against her burning like a fever.
“Then shall I say you honour yourself and the woman you love by
imprisoning me for discovering and revealing your love secret; and that
you give proof of your courage by keeping me here that you may stay and
gloat over your victim?” I saw her start as some fresh thought struck
her, and she looked sharply at me and appeared to search her memory
rapidly. Then she smiled the same exultant smile that I had noticed
before, while a dangerous light came back to her eyes.
“I will not attempt to escape.”
“It will be useless--the house is sufficiently guarded, and we have
prepared for your reception.”
“I am content if you but give me your company, for you are a man on
whose feelings it is a delight to play, and should make a pleasant
gaoler.”
“I shall not be your gaoler, but you will be in safe hands. I have only
to warn you that any effort to escape my custody will be useless. You
probably know me well enough by this time to be sure of that.”
“I am sure of one thing--you will not keep me here. Let me give you my
reasons.” There was again a sudden but complete change in her manner,
as she spoke in a calm, collected tone. I distrusted her every mood,
this calmness as much as any.
“I can’t stay to listen. I wish you merely to understand that it will
avail you nothing to beat against the bars of your cage.” As I spoke I
turned to leave, and with a quick rush, while my eyes were off her,
she was at the door as soon as I. I put my hand to it to prevent her
opening it, and to my chagrin she locked the door herself and put the
key in her pocket.
“I have that to say to you which cannot wait even to suit the woman you
love. If I must stay here, so shall you;” and she walked to the other
side of the room and threw herself into a low chair, from which she
looked at me defiantly.
This manœuvre perplexed me vastly. I was all unwilling to remain, and
yet I could not leave now without either a struggle to get possession
of the key or by summoning assistance to have the door broken in. I
cursed myself for my folly in having allowed the key to remain on the
inside, although I could not have foreseen this dilemma.
What was her object? Had she any beyond the desire to keep me in the
room while she loaded me with her invective and reproaches? What had
been the thought which had struck her, and which had seemed to lead to
her sudden assumption of calmness?
“Do you think it strange that I should wish for your company, Count?”
she asked in a voice soft and gentle enough to have been the medium of
a love message. “For all your ungentle treatment of me and for what
I deem your faithlessness, I can find it in me to admire you. I have
said some bitter things to you, I know. Forget them. Take them for
the ravings only of a violent woman--or better, the revilings of a
disappointed one. It is no light disappointment to lose such a man as
you.” Her tone was one of subtle witchery, tinctured with a sadness
that might have sprung from a genuine regret. But I knew her; and all
the time she was speaking with this cat-like softness I was racking my
brains for the reason of her action.
“If you don’t give me that key, I shall summon help and have the door
beaten in,” I answered. “I am in no mood for any theatrical display.”
“I will make a bargain with you. To summon your servants and have to
admit to them that you have been locked in by your own prisoner will
make you very ridiculous. The strong, clever leader of this great
movement caged by a woman! But I will not banter you, and will not make
you even ridiculous. Listen to my reasons and you shall have the key.
Refuse to listen, and do what you please. You shall not have it from me
if I die in defending it. It will be quicker to listen.”
“State them quickly. I will give you three minutes,” I said, reflecting
that what she said was true, and as blind as a fool of a bat to her
real intent.
“I will put them very shortly,” she answered, speaking in a slow,
deliberate tone, altogether foreign to her usual habit. “You love
the Princess and she loves you. You are angry with me because I have
discovered your secret; but do you suppose that the Princess could
endure that Bulgaria should think she decoyed me here that she might
imprison me? That is what they would think first. But when the truth is
known, as it must be some day, will her woman’s heart bear the reproach
that she imprisoned me because I surprised her and your secret and
told you of it? Is your love so guilty a thing that the bare mention
of it is a reason for consigning me to a prison unheard and untried?
Is that how a pure Princess can start her reign? Is the avowal of such
a love so base an act that anyone a witness of it must be hurried to
a gaol to silence her? Think you these are means by which she will
conciliate her new people? Or, taking another reading, can you believe
that the Bulgarian people will love a ruler whose ruthless instincts
of tyranny are manifested even before she touches the steps of the
throne, by dragging away a rival for a man’s love and thrusting her
into an impromptu gaol because the regular prisons of the country are
not available? No, I tell you; you dare not do this thing, and your
Princess dare not lend herself to it.”
I listened coldly, but not without concern, for I saw the strain of
probability that underlay her malicious ingenuity.
“You are not imprisoned for any such act as you pretend, but because
you would betray the facts your spies have discovered; and, if you want
an additional reason, because you have dared to attempt----”
I stopped, and dashed my hand to my head in horror. In a moment I saw
her cursed intention.
I had said no word to the Princess about the deadly rose which this
woman had sent to her in my name; and this fiend, guessing by her
woman’s instinct that the Princess would hurry away after what had been
said about our love, had imprisoned me here to delay me, so that even
now at the last moment the devilish scheme might succeed. And I, like
the fool I was, had been duped by her infernal cunning.
I felt like a madman. She saw by my agitation that I had guessed her
scheme, and before I could move she sprang from her chair, and rushed
to the door to put her back to it, facing me like a wild beast at bay,
to fight for the last few moments that might be so vital to the success
of her plot.
“You look agitated, Count. You are not going to leave me?”
“Stand aside, you fiend, or I won’t answer for myself. I know your
object now. Stand aside; do you hear?” I cried.
“I will not. Touch me if you dare.” But the life of the Princess was at
stake, and I thought of nothing else.
“Zoiloff! Zoiloff!” I shouted at the top of my voice, and, seizing the
Countess by the arm, I strove with all my force to drag her from the
door. She fought and struggled like a wild cat, and her strength was
so great that for a while she resisted all my efforts, clinging with
desperate tenacity to the handle of the door, the lever of which gave
her a secure hold.
“Did you call, Count?” came Zoiloff’s answer in muffled tones through
the heavy door.
“Is the Princess Christina gone?”
“Yes, some minutes since;” and at the words a light of Satanic triumph
shone in my companion’s eyes, and seemed to give her fresh strength for
the struggle. Every moment was precious.
“Get help and burst this door in,” I shouted; but even as I shouted the
words the thought of the minutes that would be thus wasted maddened me,
and I resolved to take the key from the Countess’s pocket.
“You force me to this,” I said between my teeth, and, seizing her
round the waist with one arm, I held her in a grip of iron while I
plunged my hand into her pocket. To use up the last possible moment she
struggled with frantic energy, writhing and twisting and hindering me
till I vow I could have killed her. My blood was up, and the thought
of Christina’s danger urged me to spare no violence, and half a minute
later I had secured the key, and hurled the woman away from me.
As I opened the door, Zoiloff and a couple of men with axes had come up.
“Good God! what has happened?” cried Zoiloff, falling back before my
looks.
“Keep that hell-cat safe till I return,” I shouted, and, hatless and
dishevelled as I was after the tussle for the key, I dashed out of the
house, and ran at my top speed through the street.
By good fortune I met one of my grooms exercising a horse close by
the house; and before the man could recover from his surprise I had
half pulled him from the saddle, clambered up in his place, and was
clattering at full gallop towards the Princess’s house, heedless of all
or any that came in my path.
The moment I reached it I jumped off, sprang up the steps, pealed the
great bell and thundered at the heavy knocker, never ceasing till the
porter opened the door with a half-scared face.
“The Princess! Quick, man, quick, for your life!” I cried like a
madman. “Where is she?”
“In her boudoir,” answered the fellow, staring at me as if I had been a
wild man, as indeed I almost was. I ran by him and mounted the stairs
with leaps and bounds. On the landing above stood a footman, peering
down curiously at the disturbance.
“The Princess’s room! Show me instantly!” and my mien and voice were
so threatening that he fell back pale and frightened, and pointed to a
door.
I knocked, but did not wait for an answer.
“Are you there, Christina?” I cried, excitedly, not heeding that I used
her Christian name only. “Christina!” I cried again, when I did not see
her.
And then, to my inexpressible relief, she came out from an inner room.
She was holding a small package, from which the outer wrapper had
already been removed. I rushed forward and tore it from her hand,
saying not a word, and heeding nothing of the look of surprise and
alarm which my wild presence and strange act had called to her face.
Then with a fervent “Thank God,” as I held the accursed thing safe in
my grip, crushing the fragile box in my straining fingers, I fell upon
a chair, and, clasping one hand to my eyes, tried to fight my way back
to calmness.
The rush of relief was an intoxicating delight, and in my rapture
at her safety I could have shed tears. For the moment I was utterly
unmanned. The agony of suspense during the minutes since I had learnt
of her danger had well-nigh bereft me of my senses; and the relaxation
of the strain, with the knowledge of her bare escape from death, made
me as weak as a child.
“You are ill, my friend. What has happened?” she asked in her sweet,
sympathetic voice, laying a hand on my shoulder.
The touch was like the balm of Gilead to my ruffled senses, and then a
sudden shame fell on me, and in a moment I realised how strange my wild
conduct must have appeared in her eyes. I remembered, too, that in my
delirium I had called to her by her Christian name. And at the thought
my confused and dizzied wits were more jumbled than before, and, strive
as I would, I could force no words from my tongue.
My silence alarmed her.
“I will summon help,” she said; but I stayed her with a protesting
hand, and thus we waited while I struggled for some measure of
composure.
Many moments passed in this strained, embarrassing silence, till I was
sufficiently master of myself to make an effort to speak to her. I
rose, still holding the crushed little package as fiercely as though it
were a thing of life. She looked at me with a smile, intending it to
veil her alarm and anxiety.
“Princess, I crave your pardon. I--this package--I----” I stopped,
stuttering at a sheer loss for words. A tinge of colour mounted to
her face as she said in a tone much less warm than before, and, as I
thought, not without a note of rising indignation.
“It is the package you sent me, Count Benderoff.”
“No, no, it was sent to you in my name--to poison you.” She started
back and stared at me. “I will try to explain. I have acted like a
madman; I have been almost one, I think. This thing”--holding it up
still gripped fiercely--“was sent you to-day by that woman. By the
mercy of heaven it arrived while you were absent, and your visit to my
house saved you----” And in a shambling, jumbled, half-incoherent way I
told her what had occurred.
The colour in her cheeks flowed and ebbed as I spoke, and I saw an
ever-varying light in her eyes as they were bent upon me, now in
indignation, again in horror, and yet again in gratitude mingled with
feelings which now I almost dared to read as my heart dictated.
When I finished my disjointed narrative, she thanked me very simply,
though her agitation, heightened colour, and tender glances told me how
deeply she was moved. Leaving me for a moment, she returned with the
wrapper of the package and a card of mine, on which were scribbled my
initials in a handwriting much like my own.
“This was with the packet,” she said, giving me the card. “But I have
never seen your handwriting.” I saw in a moment that the spy in my
house could easily have stolen the card for the Countess Bokara.
“Could your servant identify the messenger who brought it?”
“For what purpose, when we know who sent it?”
“It is a case with which the courts could deal.”
“No, no, no,” she cried hastily, shaking her head. “I could not do
that.”
“Well, it does not matter. She is in safe keeping, and I can mete out
the punishment myself. I will keep this evidence for future use;” and
crushing packet and card and wrapper together, I pushed them into my
pocket.
“What do you propose to do, then?” asked the Princess.
“She cannot be left at liberty with our secret in her possession.”
Till I had uttered the words I did not see their double meaning. But
the Princess did instantly, mistaking me indeed, and her face grew
so crimson that she turned away to hide her confusion. “I mean the
knowledge of our plot,” I made haste to add, awkwardly, the explanation
serving only to accentuate my clumsy blunder, and add to our mutual
embarrassment in the pause that followed.
I was mad with myself for the slip, and yet delighted at what it helped
to reveal to me. With an effort I shook myself together, and said in a
tone almost cold and formal:
“The sure and certain use she would make of her freedom would be to
tell General Kolfort that we are duping him.”
“That is a risk we must run,” she replied, her voice low and trembling.
“It is one we dare not run. It would be worse than madness,” I
protested hastily. The thing was impossible, unless we meant to ruin
everything.
“It would have to be done in my name. And that cannot be. You must see
this.” The agitation in her voice was evident, and she kept her face
averted from me.
“Your Highness cannot mean this.” The earnestness of my tone moved her,
and she cast at me a quick glance of appeal.
“Cannot you see that it is impossible?” But I felt I must be deaf to
any appeal.
“You have trusted me so completely that I should be untrue to you
and to all concerned in this matter, Princess, if I listened to you.
Believe me, it must not be. Her captivity is our only road to safety.
We have dealt with this spy of hers, and she herself told me that he
was flying the country in a panic. She alone holds this terrible--this
knowledge of our plans, and if she remains at large, nothing can save
our scheme from shipwreck. You know, even better than I, what effect
a word breathed in the General’s ear would have. Believe me, I dare
not let her free. No harm shall come to her. Not a hair of her head
shall be injured; but in our charge she is and must remain. There is no
possible alternative.”
She locked her fingers tightly in the stress of her perplexity, and a
strained, drawn expression showed on her face.
“No, no; it is impossible, impossible,” she cried, in a tone of
distress. “I see the dangers, but this I--I cannot and will not do.”
The mocking words which the Countess had spoken when I was locked in
the room with her gave me the clue to the struggle in the Princess’s
mind, and I dared not ask her to tell me her reasons, that I might
combat them. But with me they had no weight.
“This is no matter, Princess,” I ventured to say, “in which any
considerations but the most impersonal reasons of policy can be allowed
to prevail. I beg you earnestly to pause before taking a step that on
my soul I know must be fatal to everything.” The words brought a look
of flashing reproach.
“You tell me this. Can’t you see what would be said of me if I
sanctioned such a thing? No, no, no; I cannot, I cannot, I will not,”
she cried impetuously.
My eyes fell before hers, but yield I would not.
“Will you permit me to withdraw now, and we can speak of this matter
another time? Meanwhile----”
“Meanwhile you will do that which will compromise me in the eyes of all
Bulgaria,” she cried vehemently.
“I shall do no more than your safety and that of all others concerned
with us in this matter demands,” I answered stubbornly. “We have no
other object but your safety and success.”
“Do you think I will set my liberty on such an issue--that I will
consent to be held up to the whole country, ay, to all Europe, as----”
She stopped, and a vivid blush spread over her face, but, drawing
herself up with head erect, she added with a truly royal air: “Count
Benderoff, as the Princess Christina and your future Queen, I lay my
commands upon you to set the Countess Bokara at liberty without delay.”
“Your Highness has no truer follower than I, and my future Queen will
have no more loyal and faithful subject, but this command I cannot and
will not obey.”
I bowed low, and, raising my head, met her look with one as firm and
resolute as her own.
We stood thus for perhaps half a minute, and then a striking change
came over her face. Her eyes fell, and I thought I had won. But it was
no more than a change of weapons on her part.
She came close to me and took my hand in both hers, and looked then
into my eyes with a soft light that only love could kindle.
“What you refuse as a command, grant me as a favour. I plead to you as
a woman to do what I ask. I pray you by whatever regard you may have
for me. Must I plead in vain?” Her hands were trembling in mine and
her voice quivering as she sought my eyes and held them with a look of
yearning love that left me no room for any thought but how to please
her.
What could I do, loving her as I did with all my heart, but yield?