Part 14 (2/2)
Das.h.i.+ng the tears away to clear her vision, with desperation that must vent itself somehow, she flung the curtain aside and would have moved out into the room beyond, had not her gesture revealed the presence of a figure wrapped in the folds of velvet.
Some one else was there in the embrasure of the window--some one was hiding, and had been spying. Dark as it was behind the satin-lined velvet curtain, she must have seen a form pressed back into the shadow, had not her eyes been blinded by her tears.
Now, her first impulse was for flight--anything to escape without recognition; but a second quick thought brought a change of mood.
Whoever it was, had been watching, was already informed that Miss de Courcy had come in weeping, after a _tete-a-tete_ with the Emperor.
She must know who it was with whom she had to deal.
Sylvia had taken a step out into the room, as she flung back the curtain and touched the warm shape behind it. Wheeling suddenly round, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the screen of velvet away and stood face to face with Captain von Markstein.
It was a crucial moment for him. Quailing under the lash of her glance, bereft of his presence of mind, he caught at any chance for self-justification. The girl had come back by a different path from the one he had watched; she had rushed in like a whirlwind, without giving him the opportunity for escape which he had reasonably expected. If he stood waiting her condemnation, he was lost; he must step into the breach at whatever risk. No time to weigh words; the first which sprang to his tongue must be let loose.
”Don't think evil of me, Miss de Courcy!” he stammered, still groping for some excuse, in the cotton-wool which seemed to stuff his brains.
”I do not think at all.” She held her head proudly; her eyes accused him and belied her words. With a swift step, she would have pa.s.sed him, and he would have done well to let her go; but he had caught a whisper of inspiration from his evil genius. To turn the shame of this defeat to victory, to pose as hero instead of spy this was an ending to the game worth the throw of all his dice. So seemed to say something in his ear, and drunk with vanity he flung himself before her.
”I _beg_ of you to think,” he cried. ”I will not be misjudged. No man could stand still under the look in your eyes and not defend himself, if he were innocent. Your face says 'spy'.”
”You have read your own meaning there! Pray let me go.”
”One moment first. You shall listen. I confess I knew you were in the garden with one whom we need not name To break in upon such a _tete-a-tete_, for a man of my inferior rank, would be almost a crime, yet I would have committed that crime to save you. You are so innocent, so beautiful--I feared for you; I suspected--what I know now from your words has happened. I would have saved you this pain, if I could--but I was too late, only in time to see you coming in, to hear against my will--your exclamation. I waited to say that I can at least avenge you. I am at your service--your knight as in days of old. Tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it.”
If Sylvia's eyes had been daggers, he would have fallen dead at her feet. For an instant she looked at him in silence. Then: ”I would have you leave me, never to dare come into my presence again,” she said.
”And now I choose to pa.s.s.”
Mechanically he gave way, and she swept by, with lifted head and the proud bearing of an offended queen.
Otto was stricken dumb. Dully he watched her move across the long room to the door which led out into a corridor, not through the drawing-room. He saw the changing lights and shadows on her satin dress, as she pa.s.sed under the chandelier; he saw the reflection of its whiteness mirrored on the polished floor. She was beautiful to him no longer, for he hated her because of his mistake, and because she had read his mind. She had seen the truth there, under his falsehoods, as he saw the reflection on the surface of s.h.i.+ning oak. She knew that he was a moral coward, and that, had she accepted his fantastic offer, he would never have ventured to enter the lists as her knight against the Emperor. Fortunately, she had undoubtedly quarrelled with Maximilian, and would not carry tales. It would indeed be a sorry day for Otto if reconciliation ever came; and if by some strange chance of the future it seemed imminent, he must not let it come.
”Heavens! Does she fancy herself an Empress?” he sneered beneath his breath. ”Before Eberhard has finished with her, she may not even be what she is now!”
His ears still burned as if she had struck them. He could not return to the drawing-room until they had cooled. There was no hope for him now with Mary de Courcy, whatever the Chancellor's mysterious telegrams might contain, but he was too furious to mourn over lost hopes, lost opportunities. Eberhard was evidently trying to learn something to the girl's disadvantage and Otto's aid was only to have been bought in case of failure. Now, he was in a mood to offer it for nothing, and it occurred to him that he would ride over to Schloss Markstein early in the morning.
CHAPTER X
”THE EMPEROR WILL UNDERSTAND”
IT was for the refuge of isolation that Sylvia fled to her own room.
Between her bedchamber and the Grand d.u.c.h.ess's was a boudoir, which they shared; and it was the door of this intermediate room that gave admittance, from the corridor outside, to both. To the girl's surprise, as she entered--her one comfort the a.s.surance of being undisturbed--her mother looked reproachfully up from a pile of silken cus.h.i.+ons on the sofa. Josephine was rubbing her hands, and the air was pervaded with the pungent fragrance of sal volatile.
”I thought you were _never_ coming!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Grand d.u.c.h.ess. If she noticed her daughter's pallor, she believed it due to anxiety about herself.
Sylvia stared, half dazed, unable yet to separate her mind from her own private misfortunes.
”Never coming!” she echoed mechanically. ”Why--are you ill--did you expect me?”
”I nearly fainted downstairs,” returned the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, ”and it is entirely your fault. You ought not to have exposed me, at my age, to such terrible shocks. Josephine, you can go.”
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