by Anthony Hope
XIV
HIS MAJESTY DIES--TO-MORROW!
The King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruelblow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. Heregarded his body-servant with the trustful affection which grows on anindolent man in course of years--of countless days of consulting,trusting, relying on one ever present, ever ready, always trustworthy.Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secretof the King's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had heturned traitor?
Stenovics had failed to allow for this human side of the matter; howmuch more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much moreexposed and helpless--just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluableservant more indispensable still. A forlorn dignity filled the King'ssimple question: "Is it true, Lepage?"
Lepage's impassivity vanished. He, too, was deeply moved. The sense ofguilt was on him--of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyonditself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into hisdisobedience, whose action and plans had made his disobedience right.For right now he believed and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch hadcrystallized his suspicions into confident certainty. He was carriedbeyond thinking of what effect his outburst might have on his ownfortunes or how it might distress the already harassed King. He struckback fiercely at his accuser, all his national quickness of passionfinding vent in the torrent of words he poured forth in excuse orjustification. He spoke his native French, very quickly, one wordjostling over another, his arms flying like windmills, and his hairbristling, as it seemed, with defiance.
"Yes, it's true, sir. I disobeyed your Majesty--for the first time inthirty years! For the first time in my life, sir, I did it! And why?Because it was right; because it was for honor. I was angry, yes! I hadbeen scolded because Count Alexis bade me call him 'Prince,' and youheard me do it. Yes, I was angry. Was it my fault? Had I told him he wasa prince? No! Who had told him he was a prince? Don't ask me, sir. Asksomebody else. For my part, I know well the difference between one whois a prince and one who is not. Oh, I'm not ignorant of that! I know,too, the difference between one who is a queen and one who is not--oh,with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse! But I know it--and Iremember it. Does everybody else remember it?"
He stopped for a moment and clutched at his stiff, tight collar, asthough to wrench it away from his neck, and let the stream of his wordsflow even more freely. While he paused, nobody spoke. Stenovics's heavygaze was on the King, Stafnitz's eyes discreetly on the ceiling; theCountess looked scared. Had they made a mistake? Would it have beenbetter to run the risk of what Lepage could do? The King's hands were onthe table in front of him; they trembled where they lay.
"Why wasn't the Prince to know? Because then he wouldn't go on hisjourney! His journey after the German princess!" He faced Stenovics now,boldly and defiantly, pointing a forefinger at him. "Yes, they wantedhim to go. Yes, they did! Why, sir? To marry a princess--a greatprincess? Was that what they wanted? Eh, but it would have been littleuse for Count Alexis to ask me to call him a prince then! And Madame laComtesse--with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse--she wanted agreat princess here? Oh, she wanted that mightily, to be sure!"
The King stirred uneasily in his chair.
"Sir, will you listen to him?" the Countess broke in.
His answer was cold: "I listen to every man before I order him to bepunished."
"Yes, they wanted him to go. Yes, certainly! For he trains his men atVolseni, trains them for his big guns. When the men are trained and theguns have come--well, who'll call Count Alexis a prince then? Will eventhey who taught him to think himself a prince? Oh yes; they wanted himto go. And he wouldn't go if he knew your Majesty was ill. He loves yourMajesty. Yes! But if he hated you, still would he go?" With a suddenturn he was round on Stenovics again, and threw out his arms as thoughto embrace a picture. "Look! The Prince is away, the guns are come, theKing dies! Who commands in the Palace? Who governs Slavna?" He was backto the King with another swift turn. "May I answer, sir? May I tell you?The mother of Prince Alexis commands in the Palace; Slavna is ruled bythe friends of Captain Mistitch!" His voice fell to an ironical murmur."And the Prince is far off--seeking a great princess! Sir, do you seethe picture?"
Stafnitz suddenly lowered his eyes from the ceiling and looked at thegesticulating little man with a smile.
"Such imagination in the servants' hall!" he murmured half under hisbreath.
The King neither rebuked his levity nor endorsed the insinuated satire.He took no notice at all. His eyes were fixed on his still tremblinghands.
Stenovics spoke in a calm, smooth voice. "Absolutely, sir, I believe theman's honest!" he said, with an inflection of good-humored surprise."One sees how he got the idea! I'm sure he's genuinely devoted to yourMajesty, and to the Prince--as we all are. He sees something going onwhich he doesn't understand; he knows something more is going on thathe's ignorant of. He knows the unfortunate condition of your Majesty'shealth. He's like a nurse--forgive me--in charge of a sick child; hethinks everybody but himself has designs on his charge. It's reallynatural, however absurd--but it surely makes the precaution I suggestedeven more necessary? If he went about spreading a tale like this!"
The line was clever--cleverer far than the Countess's rage, clevererthan Stafnitz's airily bitter sneer. But of it, too, the King took nonotice. Lepage took no more than lay in a very scornful smile. He leaneddown towards the motionless, dull-faced King, and said in his ear:
"They wanted him to go, yes! Did they want him to come back again, sir?"He bent a little lower, and almost whispered: "How long would hisjourney have taken, sir? How long would it have taken him to get backif--in case of need?" One more question he did not ask in words; but itwas plain enough without them: "How long can your Majesty count onliving?"
At last the King raised his head and looked round on them. His eyes wereheavy and glassy.
"This man has been my trusted servant for many, many years. You, GeneralStenovics, have been my right hand, my other self. Colonel Stafnitz ishigh in my confidence. And Lepage is only my servant."
"I seek to stand no higher than any other of your Majesty's servants,except in so far as the nature of my services gives me a claim," saidStenovics.
"But there's one here who stands far nearer to me than any one, whostands nearer to me than any living being. She must know of this thing,if it's true; if it's being done, her hand must be foremost among thehands that are doing it." His eyes fixed themselves on the Countess'sface. "Is it true?" he asked.
"Sir, how can you ask? How can you listen? True! It's a malignantinvention. He's angry because I reproved him."
"Yes, I'm angry. I said so. But it's true for all that."
"Silence, Lepage! Am I to take your word against the Countess's?"
Markart, a silent listener to all this scene, thought that Lepage's gamewas up. Who could doubt what the Countess's word would be? ProbablyLepage, too, thought that he was beaten, that he was a ruined man. Forhe played a desperate card--the last throw of a bankrupt player. Yet itwas guided by shrewdness, and by the intimate knowledge which his yearsof residence in the Palace had given him. He knew the King well; and heknew Countess Ellenburg hardly less thoroughly.
"I speak truth, sir, as I believe it. But I can't expect you to take myword against the Countess's. I have too much respect for Madame laComtesse to ask that."
Again he bent down towards the King; the King looked up at him;Stenovics's simile came back into the mind. In a low, soothing toneLepage made his throw--his last suggestion. "Madame la Comtesse is ofgreat piety. If Madame la Comtesse will take a solemn oath--well, thenI'm content! I'll say I was mistaken--honest, I declare, sir, butmistaken."
Stenovics raised his head with a sharp jerk. Stafnitz smiled scornfully;he was thinking that Lepage was not, after all, a very resourcefulfellow. An oath! Great Heavens! Oaths were in the day's work when youput your hand to affairs like this. But here Stenovics was wiser--andLepage was s
hrewder. Stafnitz generalized from an experience ratherone-sided; the other two knew the special case. When oaths werementioned--solemn oaths--Stenovics scented danger.
The King knew his wife, too; and he was profoundly affected, convulsedto the depths of his mind. The thing sounded true--it had a horriblesound of truth. He craved the Countess's denial, solemn as it could beframed. That would restore the confidence which was crumbling frombeneath his tormented, bewildered mind.
"Can anybody object to that," he asked slowly, "if I say it will relievemy mind?" He smiled apologetically. "I'm a sick man, you know. If itwill relieve a sick man's mind, banish a sick man's fancies? If I shallsleep a little better--and old Lepage here be ashamed of himself?"
None of them dared to object. None could plausibly, unless the Countessherself--and she dared not. In his present mood the King would notaccept the plea of her dignity; against it he would set the indulgencedue to a sick man's rebellious fancies; could she, for her dignity'ssake, deny him what would make him sleep?
He looked at her; something in her face appeared to strike him asstrange. A sort of quiver ran through his body; he seemed to pullhimself together with an effort; as he spoke to her, his voice soundedfaint and ever so slightly blurred.
"You've heard Lepage, and I know that you'll speak the truth to me onyour oath--the truth about the thing nearest to the heart of a dyingman--nearest to the heart of your dying husband. You wouldn't lie onoath to a dying man, your husband and your King. For I am dying. Youhave years still; but they'll end. You believe that some day you and Iwill stand together before the Throne. As you shall answer to Heaven inthat day, is this true? Was it in your heart, and in the heart of thesemen, to keep my son, the heir of my House, from his throne? Is it true?As you shall answer to God for your soul, is there any truth in it?"
The woman went gray in the face--a sheet of gray paper seemed drawn overher cheeks; her narrow lips showed a pale red streak across it. Herprayers--those laborious, ingenious, plausible prayers--helped hernothing here.
"I protest! At this time, sir! The Countess will be upset!"
Stenovics had been driven to this; he feared greatly. Not a soul heededhim; every eye now was on the woman. She struggled--she struggled tolie; she struggled to do what she believed would bring perdition to hersoul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence.
"As I shall answer in that day--"
"As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day--" the Kingrepeated.
She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking succor, finding no refuge.Her eyes came back to the King's face. "As I shall answer--" Every wordcame forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang--"As I shallanswer to God for my soul--"
She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threwher hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. "Ican't! I can't!" they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping.
The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody hadoffered to strike him. "You--you--you, my wife! You, Stenovics! You,whom I trusted--trusted--trusted like--! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did Ihear rightly--wouldn't she swear?"
"With the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear,sir."
The King sprang to his feet. "Go!" he cried.
They all rose--the Countess shaken with unconquerable sobs. But the nextmoment the King made a quick in-drawing of the breath, like a mansuddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in his chair; hishead fell to meet his hands on the table in front. The hands were palmsdownward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles.
There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted from the room, crying:"Dr. Natcheff! Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Stafnitz raisedhis head with a queer look at the King, and his mouth shaped for awhistle. The Countess's sobs seemed as though frozen, her whole framewas rigid. The King did not move.
Natcheff came rushing in; Lepage, who followed closely, shut the doorafter him. They both went to the King. There was silence while Natcheffmade his examination. In a couple of minutes he turned round to them.
"Something has caused his Majesty strong agitation?"
"Yes," answered Stenovics.
"Yes!" said Natcheff. He cleared his throat and glanced doubtfully atthe Countess.
"Well?" asked Stenovics.
Natcheff threw out his hands, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly:
"I regret to say that the effect is the worst possible. His Majesty isdead."
Silence again--a silence strangely broken. Stafnitz sprang across theroom with a bound like a cat's, and caught the physician by theshoulder.
"No!" he said. "Not for twenty-four hours yet! His Majestydies--to-morrow!"
