The Missourian

by Eugene P. Lyle

  CHAPTER VIII

  ROYAL RESOLUTION

  "... O restless fate of pride, That strives to learn what Heaven resolves to hide."--_The Iliad._

  On returning to the capital, Jacqueline did not once set foot in anyImperial palace, but she established her own salon of a grande dame, andthere installed herself mid a simple elegance. What was left of themortgaged chateau in the Bourbonnais went to pay for it. Jacquelinewould accept not a louis out of Napoleon's Black Chest. A Frenchgentlewoman, she impoverished herself to work for France. And when, alittle later, Napoleon dishonored his own name and that of France in hisdealings with Maximilian, she thanked the instinct that had kept herfree. Puddles muddied one's skirt so! The valiant maid broke her sword.She would serve no longer. At least, she was quite certain that shewould not.

  Napoleon's shame lay in this. Maximilian had accepted his harshultimatum regarding the Mexican customs, and in return for suchhumiliation he depended on the presence of the French troops for yetanother year. But the United States threatened war, and Napoleoncringed. He would withdraw the troops immediately. He would abandonMaximilian, treaty or no treaty. Thus the quiet forces in the AmericanLegation at Paris battled against the proud House of Orleans. Theprincess of that House failed. She could not save her husband's throne,and her own. Her mind gave way. She became a raving maniac. So much forCharlotte's mission.

  With the news Maximilian was a broken man. He seemed to remember hispromise to rejoin her in Europe, for he set out coastward and left themarshal a letter that was virtually his abdication. Yet in the HotCountry he stopped for his health. An Austrian frigate waited for him.But behind him was his capital. Would he return? History will neverknow, perhaps, the soul-despairing network of intrigue andcounter-intrigue that wound and tightened about the young sapling rootsthat would strike deep in an unnourishing soil and become a dynasticoak. The rabid clericals, who were Maximilian's ministers at the time,thought their puppet gone, and in terror of an avenging Republic theyresigned. But Bazaine, urged to it by Padre Fischer, prevailed upon themto remain, and Fischer gave his word that the puppet would not escape.So France lost another chance to take back the Mexican Empire, andthereby pave a way out of her shame. For while Maximilian recuperated,he reconsidered. Clerical generals assured him of armies, the ministerstalked eloquently of treasure from the Church coffers. The fat padremanipulated generals and ministers and Emperor, He was supreme. Nonemight come near the royal ear except at his pleasure.

  It was at this time, about the first of the year, some six months afterCharlotte had sailed to Europe, and only a few weeks before the Frenchwould do the same, that one evening Jacqueline's footman brought her aplainly sealed envelope, without crest, without writing. She tore itopen, and started as she looked at a simple autograph on the cardinside.

  "His--this gentleman, Tobie, you admitted him?"

  The well-trained servant stood impassive. "What would madame have?" hereplied. "The man walked in like a lord, keeping his face hid in acloak. But if madame----"

  "Was there a carriage?"

  "No, madame, but I noticed a saddle horse at a little distance, held bya mounted soldier with a carbine. But if madame----"

  "He is in the drawing-room, then?"

  "Oui, madame, and without removing his Mexican sombrero. But if madamedesires that this citizen find himself--h'm--pressed to go----"

  "Tobie! No, on the contrary, you will permit him to wait undisturbed,until I come."

  A few minutes later Jacqueline beheld a tall figure in elegant charrogarb striding the length of her salon. As she entered, her guest threwoff sombrero and Spanish cloak, and revealed the drawn and troubledfeatures of the Emperor of Mexico.

  "Your Majesty has returned to His capital!" she exclaimed. "Then it istrue----"

  "That I shall cling to my play-empire? But I do not know yet,mademoiselle, I do not know yet. If I did, I should not be here, here inyour house for the first time, and against your wishes----"

  "Will Your Highness be seated?"

  Maximilian flung himself wearily into an armchair. The fire of theenthusiast had died out of his eyes, and the fire of fever had left themfaded. They reminded one of the blue of old-fashioned china.

  "But why----" she began.

  "Why come to you, you mean? I don't know; instinct, I suppose."

  "Isn't that rather vague? Your Imperial Highness returns to the City, tohis palace----"

  "Not to his palace, mademoiselle, not while it would seem a mockery ofmy poor imperial state, but to an hacienda in the suburbs. If I enter myMexican palace again, it will be because I have decided to remain anemperor."

  "And for the reason that you have _not_ so decided, you do me thehonor----"

  "I do myself the service, mademoiselle. I can bear this torment ofindecision no longer, and you can help me, for you, dear lady, seeclearly where the vision of others is distorted. The enthusiasm of theothers is unsafe. Yes," he sighed, with a little superior air ofresignation to all human foibles, "those on whose loyalty I can dependare indeed few, but I am thankful that among them are my ministers, andmy faithful secretary, Father Augustin Fischer----"

  "Then why, in heaven's name, does Your Highness come to me?"

  "Instinct, or--perhaps it's mania. Something has forced me to learn what_you_ would say."

  Jacqueline's foot--a small digression, at most--was slippered in blue,and this she pillowed on a cushion of red. And on another cushion shesettled her elbow; and the sleeve of the chemisette, or blouse, orwhatever the high-necked filmy white garment was, fell away, revealing arounded forearm clasped in a band of gold. And resting her chin on herthumb, she regarded the young prince thoughtfully. In her look there mayhave been a sedate twinkle of amusement, but all was gently, pityinglysympathetic.

  "Let me know," she said, "more of the doubts that trouble YourHighness."

  Unerringly she touched the right chord. Doubts, yes, doubts of a brokendreamer. Illusions shattered as bubbles. A dweller in an ideal shadow,believing that subjects needed only lofty phrases, Maximilian wasfinding himself tragically maladjusted to the modern day in which helived. But as the words tumbled from his lips in the passionate reliefof unburdening, it quickly appeared that his misgivings arose onlybecause he had fallen short of Dark Age standards. He recalled bitterlyhow, unlike the illustrious among his ancestors, he had not stirreduntil others had won his crown for him. But destiny was kind. He had thechance for redemption. To hold his empire now depended on him alone. Hewould mount his horse, give to the light a true Hapsburg blade, andvaliantly ride forth to conquer or perish, and in any hazard be worthyof his House.

  Then, without abrupt change, he talked of Austria's late woes. Had hebut commanded his country's ships at Lissa! Could he but have risked hislife at Sadowa! And moreover, he was still needed over there. But insome quick recollection a moisture dimmed the blue eyes. He drew fromhis vaquero jacket a dispatch. It was from Franz Josef. If Maximilianreturned to Austria, the message ran, then he must leave behind thetitle of Emperor--leave behind even the title!

  "And will that hurt so much?" asked Jacqueline.

  The Ritual again! For it a man withheld asylum from his brother.

  "Is there no mother," cried the exasperated girl, "to spank both yourMajesties?"

  "'Tis of Her Serene Highness----" Maximilian began with dignity.

  "Highness? Yes, I forgot, but not high enough to chide majesty, thoughshe be a mother."

  "Yet she has only just warned me of her deep displeasure if--No, hermessage shall wait. I wish to hear first what you think. Tell me, shallI go, or shall I stay? Tell me, tell me, and why!"

  Feverishly the man craved one frank word. There was in his look theprayer of a desperate gambler who watches a card poised between thedealer's fingers. Jacqueline had one answer only. But exactly how toexpress it, lest she be wrongly taken, made her pause.

  "In the first place," she began slowly, "there is only a singleconsideration involved, and in that lies the solution of Your Maje
sty'sdoubts. I mean the consideration of honor. Now if Your Highnessis--_whipped_ off his throne--_that_ is ignominy--But wait,wait, I am not through. I----"

  "Almost my mother's words!" he cried triumphantly. And with a hand thattrembled, he got out the letter from that Archduchess Sophia who hadgiven one son a crown and loved this other as her darling.

  "'Rather than suffer humiliation by a French policy'" he read from herletter, "'stay, stay, though you be buried under the walls of Mexico!'"

  "But----" Jacqueline interposed. She had been taken amiss after all.

  "You too bid me stay," he insisted. "But I might have known. I mighthave known. One who never errs said that this would be your counsel. ThePadre is wonderful--wonderful!"

  Father Fischer, of course! What else? How consummate was the snake inhis cunning! He counted on honesty and nobility in another, thoughhaving none himself. He knew Jacqueline. He thought that, both good andfrank, she must advise the Emperor as his mother had done. Accordingly,when Maximilian became afflicted with doubts, the priest allowed him togo to Jacqueline. She would be an accomplice despite herself. Only hisjudgment did not go quite far enough. Jacqueline had not spoken_all_ her mind.

  Imperiously she compelled Maximilian's attention. "I said ignominy,yes," she persisted, "but I would have added that honor--the modern andthe decent--and the only courage, lies in facing this same ignominy.Listen. If the least of impure ambition enters in your decision toremain, then for each death in the civil war that must result, YourHighness may hold himself to account, and so be held by history. Now,"she went on, unmoved by the fact that he had winced, "the questionremains with Your Highness--does aught besides honor hold you to stay?"

  To himself he answered as she spoke, and guilt confessed mounted hisbrow.

  "But there," she said, "Father Fischer will interpret the will of theAlmighty. Before Your Imperial Highness retires to-night, my words willbe forgotten."

  The lash fell on flesh already raw and smarting. To predict that hewould change yet again, when to change he branded himself a wilfulmurderer--no! That was more than he could endure. She must not thinkthat of him. He held out his hand. "Jeanne!" he murmured imploringly.

  "Don't!" she cried, "Don't call me that!"

  Then she bit her lip, and her fury turned against herself. "Jeanne" wasfeminine and French for "John," which was masculine and--American. Thisimportant discovery she had made months ago when riding beside a manwhose horse was "Demijohn." As a girl in love, she had found a cozy joyin their names being the same. But for that very reason any recollectionof it, since then, was the less to be borne.

  Blushing indignantly, she saw that Maximilian was regarding her with apuzzled expression. Manlike, he referred it to himself, and suddenly, hetoo started. Only once before had he addressed her thus familiarly,which was during that memorable afternoon beside the artificial lake atCuernavaca. Here, therefore, must lie the association that caused heragitation. Yet, since that afternoon, she had permitted no reference totheir interview, unless to raise her brows quizzically at his continuedpresence in Mexico. But now, what of the self-betrayal into which he hadjust surprised her? It could not but be connected with that other timewhen he had murmured her name. There was, however, no conscious vanityin the remarkable explanation. It was remorse. He thought of Charlotte,his wife. And this other woman, had he wronged her also? For during thepast weeks of trouble he had forgotten that he had loved her, and shehad not forgotten. In two such facts, falling together, was the wrong,and one that a woman scarcely ever forgives, as he had had reason toknow.

  "I could not help supposing, mademoiselle," he ventured diffidently,"that what you said at Cuernavaca was inspired by--by no feeling towardmyself. I could suppose nothing else in the light of your utterindifference since then, and--and your aversion for my very presence."

  Jacqueline laughed pleasantly. "In that Your Highness deceives himself.I did then, as I do now, feel for Your Highness enough to wish himsafely out of Mexico."

  "Charity, then?"

  She did not protest.

  "As I thought," he said. "There was no feeling in--in----"

  Jacqueline raised her eyes and met his frankly.

  "When a woman feels in the sense you mean, sire," she said, "then shedoes not make an empire, even the Austrian Empire, a condition. If theman in question has no more than his horse, his pistols, even his pipe,then the woman----" But she stopped abruptly.

  "With you," he granted honestly, "it was not a matter of personalambition either. But if neither of these, then what--_Now_ I see!"he cried. "A state reason! A decoy, to tempt me out of Mexico! Yes, yes,now I see!"

  "It is good to know," said Jacqueline, not ungratefully, "that YourMajesty at least, if no other, can see a high motive in my selfabasement."

  "Now what can she mean by that?" he demanded of himself. "What other, inparticular, thinks hard of her that she should care?"

  Eloin was the only other man who could have seen them, there atCuernavaca. No, little it mattered to her what Eloin thought. But--yes,there was another. There was the American who had intruded and wanted tosave his empire. Maximilian recalled now her change to bitterness afterthe American had left them, and a moment ago he had seen the identicalpain of self-contempt tug at her lips. And yet, once she had left theAmerican to die. But Maximilian answered even that objection. Leavinghim to die was a necessity for her country. And the sacrifice had gonefarther. It had not faltered before the self-degradation of which shehad just spoken.

  The admiration in his eyes grew. The chivalry in his race awoke withinhim, and exalted him. He felt himself become the true knight, in thepurity of devotion to a woman--a gentleman, as real chivalry would havethe term. Poor man and poet, he felt even the impulse to bend the kneeand crave as a boon some risk of life in her service, without thought ofboon thereafter--a knightly impulse nearly obsolete in chivalry, if evercustomary. But he knew now that the impulse was really possible, and theproof was this: that the constraint between them had vanished, that soonhe was talking with her easily and naturally.

  For Jacqueline also the air had become blessedly pure, and deeply,gratefully, she breathed of it. Because now she talked with one whoserespect was a fact, who _knew_ her for what she was, and during amoment's space she was happy, with the happiness of delusion. It seemedthat other men, that one other man, might one day know her too, and giveher his esteem. But the phantasy passed. The knowledge must forever berestricted to the man before her, and for him she did not care.

  Maximilian, very strangely, was thinking of the very self-same thing.Here was a service in her behalf already offering. If he could causethat other man to know? But it was out of the question. Men may convinceone another of a woman's guilt, and only too easily. But of herinnocence? No, it was absurdly out of the question. Besides, next daythe true knight would be starting back for Europe. Had he not justdecided?