Part 18 (2/2)
”Who dares say it is impossible? Answer me that, Von Markstein. She is already a lady of unimpeachable breeding, reputation, and birth----”
”Your Majesty's pardon, while _I_ say it is impossible--I, Von Markstein. For I tell you she has neither the position nor the birth that she claims, and I can prove it!”
Maximilian turned on him fiercely; then the old face, so closely a.s.sociated with every crisis of his life, appealed to his youth and to his manhood. ”Take care, Von Markstein,” he said, but in a different tone from that which he had meant to use.
The Chancellor--for all his apparent brusquerie, a diplomat before he was a man--was quick to see and understand the change, as quick to take advantage.
”Punish me as you will, Your Majesty,” he said, making no further effort to control the shaking of his voice and hands, since age and infirmity were at this moment his best advocates. ”I am an old man; my work for you and yours is nearly done. Cheerfully will I bow to dismissal, if my last effort in your service may save the s.h.i.+p of state from wreck. I would not speak what I do not know; and I do know that the two English ladies who have been staying at the Schloss Lynarberg are not the persons they pretend to be.”
”Who has been lying to you, Chancellor?” cried Maximilian, who held the temper he vowed not to lose in clenched hands.
”To me, no one. To Your Majesty, to society in Salzbruck, two adventuresses have lied.”
The Emperor leapt to his feet. ”If you were a young man, I would kill you for that,” he said.
”I know you would. Even as it is, my life is yours. But, for G.o.d's sake, for your dead father's sake, hear me first.”
Maximilian stared out of the window at the vanis.h.i.+ng landscape, his lips a tense white line. Presently he sat down.
”Very well, I will hear you,” he said. ”Because I do not fear to hear anything that you can say.”
Already the Chancellor had marshalled his array of facts in their proper order, and now he lost no time in seizing the opening offered, lest--before all he had to say was said--the narrow way should close again.
”When I heard of Your Majesty's growing admiration for the lady who was fortunate enough to save your life,” he began, ”I looked for her name and her mother's in a book which the English nation values next to the Bible. It is called 'Burke's Peerage'. There I found the name of Lady de Courcy, widow of a certain Sir Thomas, Baron; mother of a son, still a child, and of one living daughter, much older, a young woman with many names and twenty-eight years.”
The Emperor, who had been frowning into s.p.a.ce, turned a quick look of surprise on his Chancellor. Beginning to speak, he changed his mind, and bit his lip instead.
For a second the Chancellor paused, hoping for the lead which he had expected here; but finding that it did not come, he went on----
”I had seen the ladies at Your Majesty's birthday ball and it seemed to me impossible that the younger could have reached so mature an age.
Besides, she herself confessed to but twenty-one. This, perhaps, was not unusual, yet it set me thinking. The De Courcys, I learned by a little further reading in Burke, were distantly connected with the family of Eltzburg-Neuwald, which struck me, in the circ.u.mstances, as an odd coincidence. A Miss de Courcy became the Duke of Northminster's wife; and to her was born a daughter who eventually married the late Grand Duke of Eltzburg-Neuwald, father of Princess Sylvia and the present Crown Prince of Abruzzia. Acting as I felt my duty to Your Majesty and Rhaetia bade me act, I at once telegraphed to Friedrich, and also to Baron von Mienigen, Your Majesty's Amba.s.sador to England.”
”What did you telegraph?” asked the Emperor, with ominous calm.
”Nothing compromising to Your Majesty or to the lady; I trust you feel confident of that. I inquired of Friedrich if he had English relatives named De Courcy--a mother and daughter--travelling in Rhaetia; and begged that, if so, he would describe them, wiring an answer to me at Markstein. To Von Mienigen I said that all possible particulars regarding the widow of Sir Thomas de Courcy and her daughter, with an account of their present movements, would place me under personal obligations, and that I hoped for a speedy reply by telegraph. These messages I sent off late in the afternoon of the day before yesterday.
Last night I received the answers, within two or three hours of one another. They are now here” (he tapped the breast of his coat); ”have I Your Majesty's permission to show them?”
”I will read what your friends have to say if you wish,” returned Maximilian coldly. His face told nothing; but the Chancellor looked down to hide the flicker of hope under his eyelids. With a slight tremor in the big, blunt fingers, he unb.u.t.toned his coat and drew out a handsome coroneted pocket-book, given him by Maximilian. The gift had been made on the old man's sixty-fourth birthday, almost a year ago; and the sight of it now produced a certain effect, as, perhaps, ”Iron Heart” was quietly aware.
From the pocket-book came two folded papers; and, with a bow, the Chancellor placed them in his Imperial master's hands.
The first that Maximilian opened was a telegram in Italian from the Crown Prince of Abruzzia.
”Have not the remotest idea where Lady de Courcy and her daughter are living; may be in Rhaetia or at the South Pole,” it was worded with characteristic flippancy. ”Have not seen either since a visit paid to England eight years ago, then only once. Lady de Courcy is a tall old party of the dragon order, with a nose like a rocking-horse. My cousin Mary is dark, and takes after her mother. Is Otto to be the happy man?--FRIEDRICH.”
With absolutely expressionless features, Maximilian tossed the paper on to the seat by his side and unfolded the other.
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