by Anthony Hope
CHAPTER XVII. YOUNG RUPERT AND THE PLAY-ACTOR
There rises often before my mind the picture of young Rupert, standingwhere Rischenheim left him, awaiting the return of his messenger andwatching for some sign that should declare to Strelsau the death of itsking which his own hand had wrought. His image is one that memory holdsclear and distinct, though time may blur the shape of greater and bettermen, and the position in which he was that morning gives play enough tothe imagination. Save for Rischenheim, a broken reed, and Bauer, whowas gone, none knew where, he stood alone against a kingdom which he hadrobbed of its head, and a band of resolute men who would know no restand no security so long as he lived. For protection he had only a quickbrain, his courage, and his secret. Yet he could not fly--he waswithout resources till his cousin furnished them--and at any moment hisopponents might find themselves able to declare the king's death andraise the city in hue and cry after him. Such men do not repent; but itmay be that he regretted the enterprise which had led him on so far andforced on him a deed so momentous; yet to those who knew him it seemsmore likely that the smile broadened on his firm full lips as he lookeddown on the unconscious city. Well, I daresay he would have been toomuch for me, but I wish I had been the man to find him there. He wouldnot have had it so; for I believe that he asked no better than to crossswords again with Rudolf Rassendyll and set his fortunes on the issue.
Down below, the old woman was cooking a stew for her dinner, now andthen grumbling to herself that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was solong away, and Bauer, the rascal, drunk in some pot-house. The kitchendoor stood open, and through it could be seen the girl Rosa, busilyscrubbing the tiled floor; her color was high and her eyes bright; fromtime to time she paused in her task, and, raising her head, seemed tolisten. The time at which the king needed her was past, but the king hadnot come. How little the old woman knew for whom she listened! Allher talk had been of Bauer--why Bauer did not come and what could havebefallen him. It was grand to hold the king's secret for him, and shewould hold it with her life; for he had been kind and gracious toher, and he was her man of all the men in Strelsau. Bauer was a stumpyfellow; the Count of Hentzau was handsome, handsome as the devil; butthe king was her man. And the king had trusted her; she would die beforehurt should come to him.
There were wheels in the street--quick-rolling wheels. They seemed tostop a few doors away, then to roll on again past the house. The girl'shead was raised; the old woman, engrossed in her stewing, took no heed.The girl's straining ear caught a rapid step outside. Then it came--theknock, the sharp knock followed by five light ones. The old woman heardnow: dropping her spoon into the pot, she lifted the mess off the fireand turned round, saying: "There's the rogue at last! Open the door forhim, Rosa."
Before she spoke Rosa had darted down the passage. The door opened andshut again. The old woman waddled to the threshold of the kitchen.The passage and the shop were dark behind the closed shutters, but thefigure by the girl's side was taller than Bauer's.
"Who's there?" cried Mother Holf sharply. "The shop's shut to-day: youcan't come in."
"But I am in," came the answer, and Rudolf stepped towards her. Thegirl followed a pace behind, her hands clasped and her eyes alight withexcitement. "Don't you know me?" asked Rudolf, standing opposite the oldwoman and smiling down on her.
There, in the dim light of the low-roofed passage, Mother Holf wasfairly puzzled. She knew the story of Mr. Rassendyll; she knew that hewas again in Ruritania, it was no surprise to her that he should be inStrelsau; but she did not know that Rupert had killed the king, andshe had not seen the king close at hand since his illness and his beardimpaired what had been a perfect likeness. In fine, she could not tellwhether it were indeed the king who spoke to her or his counterfeit.
"Who are you?" she asked, curt and blunt in her confusion. The girlbroke in with an amused laugh.
"Why, it's the--" She paused. Perhaps the king's identity was a secret.
Rudolf nodded to her. "Tell her who I am," said he.
"Why, mother, it's the king," whispered Rosa, laughing and blushing."The king, mother."
"Ay, if the king's alive, I'm the king," said Rudolf. I suppose hewanted to find out how much the old woman knew.
She made no answer, but stared up at his face. In her bewilderment sheforgot to ask how he had learnt the signal that gained him admission.
"I've come to see the Count of Hentzau," Rudolf continued. "Take me tohim at once."
The old woman was across his path in a moment, all defiant, arms akimbo.
"Nobody can see the count. He's not here," she blurted out.
"What, can't the king see him? Not even the king?"
"King!" she cried, peering at him. "Are you the king?"
Rosa burst out laughing.
"Mother, you must have seen the king a hundred times," she laughed.
"The king, or his ghost--what does it matter?" said Rudolf lightly.
The old woman drew back with an appearance of sudden alarm.
"His ghost? Is he?"
"His ghost!" rang out in the girl's merry laugh. "Why, here's the kinghimself, mother. You don't look much like a ghost, sir."
Mother Holf's face was livid now, and her eyes staring fixedly. Perhapsit shot into her brain that something had happened to the king, and thatthis man had come because of it--this man who was indeed the image,and might have been the spirit, of the king. She leant against thedoor post, her broad bosom heaving under her scanty stuff gown. Yetstill--was it not the king?
"God help us!" she muttered in fear and bewilderment.
"He helps us, never fear," said Rudolf Rassendyll. "Where is CountRupert?"
The girl had caught alarm from her mother's agitation. "He's upstairsin the attic at the top of the house, sir," she whispered in frightenedtones, with a glance that fled from her mother's terrified face toRudolf's set eyes and steady smile.
What she said was enough for him. He slipped by the old woman and beganto mount the stairs.
The two watched him, Mother Holf as though fascinated, the girl alarmedbut still triumphant: she had done what the king bade her. Rudolf turnedthe corner of the first landing and disappeared from their sight. Theold woman, swearing and muttering, stumbled back into her kitchen, sether stew on the fire, and began to stir it, her eyes set on the flamesand careless of the pot. The girl watched her mother for a moment,wondering how she could think of the stew, not guessing that she turnedthe spoon without a thought of what she did; then she began to crawl,quickly but noiselessly, up the staircase in the track of RudolfRassendyll. She looked back once: the old woman stirred with amonotonous circular movement of her fat arm. Rosa, bent half-double,skimmed upstairs, till she came in sight of the king whom she was soproud to serve. He was on the top landing now, outside the door of alarge attic where Rupert of Hentzau was lodged. She saw him lay his handon the latch of the door; his other hand rested in the pocket of hiscoat. From the room no sound came; Rupert may have heard the stepoutside and stood motionless to listen. Rudolf opened the door andwalked in. The girl darted breathlessly up the remaining steps, and,coming to the door, just as it swung back on the latch, crouched downby it, listening to what passed within, catching glimpses of forms andmovements through the chinks of the crazy hinge and the crevices wherethe wood of the panel sprung and left a narrow eye hole for her absorbedgazing.
Rupert of Hentzau had no thought of ghosts; the men he killed lay stillwhere they fell, and slept where they were buried. And he had nowonder at the sight of Rudolf Rassendyll. It told him no more than thatRischenheim's errand had fallen out ill, at which he was not surprised,and that his old enemy was again in his path, at which (as I verilybelieve) he was more glad than sorry. As Rudolf entered, he had beenhalf-way between window and table; he came forward to the table now, andstood leaning the points of two fingers on the unpolished dirty-whitedeal.
"Ah, the play-actor!" said he, with a gleam of his teeth and a toss ofhis curls, while his second hand, like Mr. Rassendyll's, res
ted in thepocket of his coat.
Mr. Rassendyll himself has confessed that in old days it went againstthe grain with him when Rupert called him a play-actor. He was a littleolder now, and his temper more difficult to stir.
"Yes, the play-actor," he answered, smiling. "With a shorter part thistime, though."
"What part to-day? Isn't it the old one, the king with a pasteboardcrown?" asked Rupert, sitting down on the table. "Faith, we shall dohandsomely in Ruritania: you have a pasteboard crown, and I (humble manthough I am) have given the other one a heavenly crown. What a braveshow! But perhaps I tell you news?"
"No, I know what you've done."
"I take no credit. It was more the dog's doing than mine," said Rupertcarelessly. "However, there it is, and dead he is, and there's an end ofit. What's your business, play-actor?"
At the repetition of this last word, to her so mysterious, the girloutside pressed her eyes more eagerly to the chink and strained her earsto listen more sedulously. And what did the count mean by the "otherone" and "a heavenly crown"?
"Why not call me king?" asked Rudolf.
"They call you that in Strelsau?"
"Those that know I'm here."
"And they are--?"
"Some few score."
"And thus," said Rupert, waving an arm towards the window, "the town isquiet and the flags fly?"
"You've been waiting to see them lowered?"
"A man likes to have some notice taken of what he has done," Rupertcomplained. "However, I can get them lowered when I will."
"By telling your news? Would that be good for yourself?"
"Forgive me--not that way. Since the king has two lives, it is but innature that he should have two deaths."
"And when he has undergone the second?"
"I shall live at peace, my friend, on a certain source of income that Ipossess." He tapped his breast-pocket with a slight, defiant laugh. "Inthese days," said he, "even queens must be careful about their letters.We live in moral times."
"You don't share the responsibility for it," said Rudolf, smiling.
"I make my little protest. But what's your business, play-actor? For Ithink you're rather tiresome."
Rudolf grew grave. He advanced towards the table, and spoke in low,serious tones.
"My lord, you're alone in this matter now. Rischenheim is a prisoner;your rogue Bauer I encountered last night and broke his head."
"Ah, you did?"
"You have what you know of in your hands. If you yield, on my honor Iwill save your life."
"You don't desire my blood, then, most forgiving play-actor?"
"So much, that I daren't fail to offer you life," answered RudolfRassendyll. "Come, sir, your plan has failed: give up the letter."
Rupert looked at him thoughtfully.
"You'll see me safe off if I give it you?" he asked.
"I'll prevent your death. Yes, and I'll see you safe."
"Where to?"
"To a fortress, where a trustworthy gentleman will guard you."
"For how long, my dear friend?"
"I hope for many years, my dear Count."
"In fact, I suppose, as long as--?"
"Heaven leaves you to the world, Count. It's impossible to set youfree."
"That's the offer, then?"
"The extreme limit of indulgence," answered Rudolf. Rupert burst intoa laugh, half of defiance, yet touched with the ring of true amusement.Then he lit a cigarette and sat puffing and smiling.
"I should wrong you by straining your kindness so far," said he; and inwanton insolence, seeking again to show Mr. Rassendyll the mean esteemin which he held him, and the weariness his presence was, he raised hisarms and stretched them above his head, as a man does in the fatigue oftedium. "Heigho!" he yawned.
But he had overshot the mark this time. With a sudden swift bound Rudolfwas upon him; his hands gripped Rupert's wrists, and with his greaterstrength he bent back the count's pliant body till trunk and head layflat on the table. Neither man spoke; their eyes met; each heard theother's breathing and felt the vapor of it on his face. The girl outsidehad seen the movement of Rudolf's figure, but her cranny did not serveher to show her the two where they were now; she knelt on her knees inignorant suspense. Slowly and with a patient force Rudolf began to workhis enemy's arms towards one another. Rupert had read his design in hiseyes and resisted with tense muscles. It seemed as though his arms mustcrack; but at last they moved. Inch by inch they were driven closer; nowthe elbows almost touched; now the wrists joined in reluctant contact.The sweat broke out on the count's brow, and stood in large drops onRudolf's. Now the wrists were side by side, and slowly the long sinewyfingers of Rudolf's right hand, that held one wrist already in theirvise, began to creep round the other. The grip seemed to have halfnumbed Rupert's arms, and his struggles grew fainter. Round both wriststhe sinewy fingers climbed and coiled; gradually and timidly the graspof the other hand was relaxed and withdrawn. Would the one hold both?With a great spasm of effort Rupert put it to the proof.
The smile that bent Mr. Rassendyll's lips gave the answer. He could holdboth, with one hand he could hold both: not for long, no, but for aninstant. And then, in the instant, his left hand, free at last, shot tothe breast of the count's coat. It was the same that he had worn atthe hunting-lodge, and was ragged and torn from the boar-hound's teeth.Rudolf tore it further open, and his hand dashed in.
"God's curse on you!" snarled Rupert of Hentzau.
But Mr. Rassendyll still smiled. Then he drew out a letter. A glanceat it showed him the queen's seal. As he glanced Rupert made anothereffort. The one hand, wearied out, gave way, and Mr. Rassendyll had nomore than time to spring away, holding his prize. The next moment he hadhis revolver in his hand--none too soon, for Rupert of Hentzau's barrelfaced him, and they stood thus, opposite to one another, with no morethan three or four feet between the mouths of their weapons.
There is, indeed, much that may be said against Rupert of Hentzau, thetruth about him well-nigh forbidding that charity of judgment which weare taught to observe towards all men. But neither I nor any man whoknew him ever found in him a shrinking from danger or a fear of death.It was no feeling such as these, but rather a cool calculation ofchances, that now stayed his hand. Even if he were victorious in theduel, and both did not die, yet the noise of the firearms would greatlydecrease his chances of escape. Moreover, he was a noted swordsman, andconceived that he was Mr. Rassendyll's superior in that exercise. Thesteel offered him at once a better prospect for victory and more hope ofa safe fight. So he did not pull his trigger, but, maintaining his aimthe while, said:
"I'm not a street bully, and I don't excel in a rough-and-tumble. Willyou fight now like a gentleman? There's a pair of blades in the caseyonder."
Mr. Rassendyll, in his turn, was keenly alive to the peril that stillhung over the queen. To kill Rupert would not save her if he himselfalso were shot and left dead, or so helpless that he could not destroythe letter; and while Rupert's revolver was at his heart he could nottear it up nor reach the fire that burnt on the other side of theroom. Nor did he fear the result of a trial with steel, for he had kepthimself in practice and improved his skill since the days when he camefirst to Strelsau.
"As you will," said he. "Provided we settle the matter here and now, themanner is the same to me."
"Put your revolver on the table, then, and I'll lay mine by the side ofit."
"I beg your pardon," smiled Rudolf, "but you must lay yours down first."
"I'm to trust you, it seems, but you won't trust me!"
"Precisely. You know you can trust me; you know that I can't trust you."
A sudden flush swept over Rupert of Hentzau's face. There were momentswhen he saw, in the mirror of another's face or words, the estimation inwhich honorable men held him; and I believe that he hated Mr. Rassendyllmost fiercely, not for thwarting his enterprise, but because he had morepower than any other man to show him that picture. His brows knit in afrown, and his lips shut tight.
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"Ay, but though you won't fire, you'll destroy the letter," he sneered."I know your fine distinctions."
"Again I beg your pardon. You know very well that, although all Strelsauwere at the door, I wouldn't touch the letter."
With an angry muttered oath Rupert flung his revolver on the table.Rudolf came forward and laid his by it. Then he took up both, and,crossing to the mantelpiece, laid them there; between there he placedthe queen's letter. A bright blaze burnt in the grate; it needed but theslightest motion of his hand to set the letter beyond all danger. But heplaced it carefully on the mantelpiece, and, with a slight smile on hisface, turned to Rupert, saying: "Now shall we resume the bout that Fritzvon Tarlenheim interrupted in the forest of Zenda?"
All this while they had been speaking in subdued accents, resolutionin one, anger in the other, keeping the voice in an even, deliberatelowness. The girl outside caught only a word here and there; but nowsuddenly the flash of steel gleamed on her eyes through the crevice ofthe hinge. She gave a sudden gasp, and, pressing her face closer to theopening, listened and looked. For Rupert of Hentzau had taken the swordsfrom their case and put them on the table. With a slight bow Rudolf tookone, and the two assumed their positions. Suddenly Rupert lowered hispoint. The frown vanished from his face, and he spoke in his usualbantering tone.
"By the way," said he, "perhaps we're letting our feelings run awaywith us. Have you more of a mind now to be King of Ruritania? If so, I'mready to be the most faithful of your subjects."
"You honor me, Count."
"Provided, of course, that I'm one of the most favored and the richest.Come, come, the fool is dead now; he lived like a fool and he died likea fool. The place is empty. A dead man has no rights and suffers nowrongs. Damn it, that's good law, isn't it? Take his place and his wife.You can pay my price then. Or are you still so virtuous? Faith, howlittle some men learn from the world they live in! If I had yourchance!"
"Come, Count, you'd be the last man to trust Rupert of Hentzau."
"If I made it worth his while?"
"But he's a man who would take the pay and betray his associate."
Again Rupert flushed. When he next spoke his voice was hard, cold, andlow.
"By God, Rudolf Rassendyll," said he, "I'll kill you here and now."
"I ask no better than that you should try."
"And then I'll proclaim that woman for what she is in all Strelsau." Asmile came on his lips as he watched Rudolf's face.
"Guard yourself, my lord," said Mr. Rassendyll.
"Ay, for no better than--There, man, I'm ready for you." For Rudolf'sblade had touched his in warning.
The steel jangled. The girl's pale face was at the crevice of the hinge.She heard the blades cross again and again. Then one would run up theother with a sharp, grating slither. At times she caught a glimpse ofa figure in quick forward lunge or rapid wary withdrawal. Her brain wasalmost paralyzed.
Ignorant of the mind and heart of young Rupert, she could not conceivethat he tried to kill the king. Yet the words she had caught soundedlike the words of men quarreling, and she could not persuade herselfthat the gentlemen fenced only for pastime. They were not speaking now;but she heard their hard breathing and the movement of their unrestingfeet on the bare boards of the floor. Then a cry rang out, clear andmerry with the fierce hope of triumph: "Nearly! nearly!"
She knew the voice for Rupert of Hentzau's, and it was the king whoanswered calmly, "Nearly isn't quite."
Again she listened. They seemed to have paused for a moment, for therewas no sound, save of the hard breathing and deep-drawn pants of men whorest an instant in the midst of intense exertion. Then came again theclash and the slitherings; and one of them crossed into her view. Sheknew the tall figure and she saw the red hair: it was the king. Backwardstep by step he seemed to be driven, coming nearer and nearer to thedoor. At last there was no more than a foot between him and her; onlythe crazy panel prevented her putting out her hand to touch him. Againthe voice of Rupert rang out in rich exultation, "I have you now! Sayyour prayers, King Rudolf!"
"Say your prayers!" Then they fought. It was earnest, not play. And itwas the king--her king--her dear king, who was in great peril of hislife. For an instant she knelt, still watching. Then with a low cry ofterror she turned and ran headlong down the steep stairs. Her mind couldnot tell what to do, but her heart cried out that she must do somethingfor her king. Reaching the ground floor, she ran with wide-open eyesinto the kitchen. The stew was on the hob, the old woman still held thespoon, but she had ceased to stir and fallen into a chair.
"He's killing the king! He's killing the king!" cried Rosa, seizing hermother by the arm. "Mother, what shall we do? He's killing the king!"
The old woman looked up with dull eyes and a stupid, cunning smile.
"Let them alone," she said. "There's no king here."
"Yes, yes. He's upstairs in the count's room. They're fighting, he andthe Count of Hentzau. Mother, Count Rupert will kill--"
"Let them alone. He the king? He's no king," muttered the old womanagain.
For an instant Rosa stood looking down on her in helpless despair. Thena light flashed into her eyes.
"I must call for help," she cried.
The old woman seemed to spring to sudden life. She jumped up and caughther daughter by the shoulder.
"No, no," she whispered in quick accents. "You--you don't know. Let themalone, you fool! It's not our business. Let them alone."
"Let me go, mother, let me go! Mother, I must help the king!"
"I'll not let you go," said Mother Holf.
But Rosa was young and strong; her heart was fired with terror for theking's danger.
"I must go," she cried; and she flung her mother's grasp off from herso that the old woman was thrown back into her chair, and the spoon fellfrom her hand and clattered on the tiles. But Rosa turned and fleddown the passage and through the shop. The bolts delayed her tremblingfingers for an instant. Then she flung the door wide. A new amazementfilled her eyes at the sight of the eager crowd before the house.Then her eyes fell on me where I stood between the lieutenant andRischenheim, and she uttered her wild cry, "Help! The king!"
With one bound I was by her side and in the house, while Bernensteincried, "Quicker!" from behind.
