The Puppet Crown

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER X. BEING OF LONG RIDES, MAIDS, KISSES AND MESSAGES

  Fitzgerald was first into bed that night.

  "I want to finish this cigar, Jack," said Maurice, who wished to bealone with his thoughts. He sat in the chair by the window and liftedhis feet to the sill. The night wind was warm and odorous. He hadfound a clue, but through what labyrinth would it lead him? A strangeadventure, indeed; so strange that he was of half a mind that hedreamed. Prisoners.... Why? And these two women alone in this oldchateau, a house party. There lay below all this some deep design.

  Should he warn his friend? Indeed, as yet, of what had he to warn him?To discover Madame to Fitzgerald would be to close the entrance to thislabyrinth which he desired to explore. How would Madame act, now thatshe knew he possessed her secret? Into many channels he passed, butall these were blind, and led him to no end. Madame had a purpose; todiscover what this purpose was Fitzgerald must remain in ignorance. Whata woman! She resembled one of those fabulous creatures of medieval days.And why was the countess on the scene, and what was her part in thisinvisible game?

  He finished his cigar and lit another; but the second cigar solved nomore than the first. Mademoiselle of the Veil! He knew now what shemeant; having asked her to lift her veil, she had said, "Somethingterrible would happen." At last he, too, sought bed, but he did notsleep so soundly as did Fitzgerald.

  Ten days of this charming captivity passed; there was a thicker carpetof leaves on the ground, and new distances began to show mistily throughthe dismantling forest. But there were no changes at the Red Chateau--nooutward changes. It might, in truth, have been a house party but forthe prowling troopers and the continual grumbling of the Englishman whenalone with Maurice.

  During the day they hunted or took long rides into the interior of theduchy. Both women possessed a fine skill in the saddle. In the eveningsthere were tourneys at chess, games and music.

  Each night Fitzgerald learned a little more about chess and a littleless about woman. The countess, airy and delicate as a verse ofVoiture's, bent all her powers (and these were not inconsiderable)toward the subjugation of Maurice. She laughed, she sang, shefascinated. She had the ability to amuse hour after hour. She offeredvague promises with her eyes, and refused them with her lips. Maurice,who was never impregnable under the fire of feminine artillery, wasat times half in love with her; but his suspicions, always near thesurface, saved him.

  Sometimes he caught her hand and retained it over long; and once, whenhe kissed it, there was no rebuke. Again, when she sang, he would leanso close that she could feel his breath on her cheek, and her fingerswould stumble into discords. Often she would suddenly rise from thepiano and walk swiftly from the room, through the halls, into the park,where, though he followed, he never could find her. One day she andMadame returned from a walk in the forest, the one with high color andbrilliant eyes, the other impassive as ice. Now, all these thingsdid not escape Maurice, but he could not piece them together with anyresult.

  On the morning of the tenth day the two prisoners came down tobreakfast, wondering how much longer this house party was going to last.

  "George! I wish I had a pipe," said Maurice.

  "So do I," Fitzgerald echoed glumly. "I am tired of cigars and wearyof those eternal cigarettes. How the deuce are we going to get out ofthis?"

  "What's your hurry? We're having a good time."

  "That's the trouble. Hang the duchess!"

  "Hang her and welcome. But why do you complain to me and not to Madame?Are you afraid of her? Does she possess, then, what is called tamer'smagnetism? O, my lion, if only you would roar a bit more at her and lessat me!"

  "I don't know what she possesses; but I do know that I'd give a deal tobe out of this."

  "Is the chambermaid idea bothering you?"

  "No, Maurice, it is not the chambermaid. I feel oppressed by somethingwhich I can not define."

  "Maybe you are not used to tokay forty years old?"

  "Wine has nothing to do with it."

  He was so serious that Maurice dropped his jesting tone. "By the way,"he said, "do you sleep soundly?"

  "No. Every night I am awakened by the noise of a horse entering thecourt-yard."

  "So am I. Moreover, Madame seems to be troubled with the samesleeplessness.

  "Madame?"

  "Yes. She is so troubled with sleeplessness that nothing will quiet herbut the sight of the man who rides the horse: all of which is to saythat a courier arrives each night with dispatches from Bleiberg. Now, totell the truth, the courier does not keep me awake half so much asthe thought of who is eating three meals a day at the end of the eastcorridor on the third floor. But there are Madame and the countess; wehave kept them waiting."

  "Good morning," said Madame, smiling as they came up. "And how have youslept?"

  "Nothing wakes me but the roll of the drum or thunder," answeredFitzgerald diffidently.

  "I dream of horses," said Maurice carelessly.

  "Bon jour, M. le Capitaine!" cried the countess. Then she added witha light laugh: "Come, let me try you. Portons armes! Presentonsarmes!--How beautifully you do it!--Par le flanc gauche! Enavant--marche!"

  Maurice swung, clicked his heels and, with a covert glance at Madame,led the way into the dining hall, whistling, "Behold the saber of myfather!"

  "Ah, I do not see the Colonel," said Maurice; for night and day the oldsoldier had been with them.

  "He has gone to Brunnstadt," said Madame, "but will return thisevening."

  The breakfast was short and merry. Words passed across the table thatwere as crisp as the toast. Maurice remarked the advent of two liveriedservants, stolid Germans by the way, who, as he afterward found, did notunderstand French.

  "So the Colonel has gone to Brunnstadt?" said Maurice; which was a longway of asking why the Colonel had gone to Brunnstadt.

  "Yes," said Madame; "he has gone to consult Madame the duchess to seewhat shall be done to you, Monsieur."

  "To be done to me?" ignoring the challenge in her eyes.

  "Yes. You must not forget that you promised me your sword, and I havetaken the liberty of presenting it to her Highness."

  "I remember nothing about promising my sword," said Maurice, gazingceiling-ward.

  "What! There was a mental reservation?"

  "No, Madame. I remember my words only too well. I said that I lovedadventure, thoughtless youth that I was, and that I was easy to befound. Which is all true, and part proved, since I am here."

  "Still, the uniform fits you exceedingly well. The hussars hold a highplace at court."

  "Madame," replied he pleasantly, "I appreciate the honor, but at presentmy sword and fealty are sworn to my own country. And besides, I have nodesire to take part in the petty squabble between this country and thekingdom."

  The forecast of a storm lay in Madame's gray eyes.

  "Eh? You wish to placate me, Madame?" thought Maurice.

  "He is right, Madame," interposed the countess. "But away with politics!It spoils all it touches."

  "And away with the duchess, too," put in Fitzgerald, reaching for abunch of yellow grapes. "With all due respect to your cause and beliefs,Madame the duchess, your mistress, is a bugbear to me. The very sound ofthe title arouses in my heart all that is antagonistic."

  "You have not seen her Highness, Monsieur," said Madame, quietly."Perhaps she is all that is desirable. She is known to be rich, herwill is paramount to all others. When she sets her heart on a thing sheleaves no stone unturned until she procures it. And, countess, dothey not say of her that she possesses something--an attribute--moredangerous than beauty--fascination?"

  "Yes, Madame."

  "Madame the duchess," said Maurice dryly, "has a stanch advocate in you,Madame."

  "It is not unnatural."

  "Be that as it may," said Fitzgerald, "she is mine enemy."

  "Love your enemies, says the Book," was the interposition of thecountess, who stole a sly glance at Maurice which he did not see.

 
"That would not be difficult--in some cases," replied the Englishman.

  "Ah, come," thought Maurice, "my friend is beginning to pick up hislines." Aloud he said: "Madame, will you confer a favor on me bypermitting me to inform my superior in Vienna of my whereabouts?"

  "No, Monsieur; prisoners are not allowed to communicate with the outsideworld. Are you not enjoying yourself? Is not everything being done foryour material comfort? What complaint have you to offer?"

  "A gilded cage is no less a cage."

  "It is but temporary. The duchess has commanded that you be held untilit is her pleasure to come to the chateau. O, Monsieur, where is yourgallantry? Here the countess and I have done so much to amuse you, andyou speak of a gilded cage!"

  "Pretty bird! pretty bird!" said Maurice, in a piping voice, "will ithave some caraway?"

  Madame laughed. "Well, I hear the grooms leading the horses under theporte cochere. Go, then, for the morning ride. I am sorry that I can notaccompany you. I have some letters to write."

  Fitzgerald curled his mustache. "I'll forswear the ride myself. Iwas reading a good book last night; I'll finish it, and keep Madamecompany."

  Madame trifled with the toast crumbs. Fitzgerald's profounddissimulation caused a smile to cross Maurice's lips.

  "Come, countess," said Maurice, gaily; "we'll take the ride together,since Madame has to write and my lord to read."

  "Five minutes until I dress," replied the countess, and she sped away.

  "What a beautiful girl!" said Madame, fondly. "Poor dear! Her life hasnot been a bed of roses."

  "No?" said Maurice, while Fitzgerald raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

  "No. She was formerly a maid of honor to her Highness. She made anunhappy marriage."

  "And where is the count?" asked Fitzgerald in surprise. He shot a glanceof dismay at Maurice, who, translating it, smiled.

  "He is dead."

  Fitzgerald looked relieved.

  "What a fine thing it is," said Maurice, rising, "to be a man and wedwhere and how you will!" He withdrew to the main hall to don his capand spurs. As he stooped to strap the latter, he saw a sheet of paper,crinkled by recent dampness, lying on the floor. He picked it up--andread it.

  "The plan you suggest is worthy of you, Madame. The Englishman is fair game, being a common enemy. Let us gain our ends through the heart, since his purse is impregnable to assaults. But the countess? Why not the pantry maid, since the other is an American? They lack discrimination. The king grows weaker every day. Nothing was found in the Englishman's rooms. I fear that the consols are in the safe at the British legation. As usual, a courier will arrive each night. B."