Part 21 (2/2)
”I thank you, and in other circ.u.mstances nothing could give me greater pleasure. But I have business of the sort which makes even a weary man forget the delights of good companions.h.i.+p and a good dinner.”
”Is the business _my_ business, Chancellor?”
”I hope that you will think it so. A least it is business that must be done now or never, and means life or death to those whom it concerns.
How it is to be done, or whether done at all, depends upon you; and it could be placed in no more skilful hands. If I had been given my choice of an instrument out of the whole world, had I dared I would have chosen you.”
”This sounds like an adventure.”
”It may indeed be an adventure, and an act of justice too.”
”I expected nothing so good when I came over the frontier this morning. You can guess what brought me to my little den in the Niederwald at this particular time. It was not for hunting. But, though my mind is full of certain grave affairs, I trust I have still the instinct of a sportsman.”
”I am sure of that. Especially when your birds and mine can be killed with one shot.”
”Chancellor, you interest me more and more.”
The old man smiled grat.i.tude, but under the bristling brows glowed a light like the last embers in a dying fire. ”Upstairs,” said he abruptly, ”is a pretty woman. She says her name is Mary de Courcy, though there are some of us who know better. Her love affairs threaten a public scandal.”
”Ah, the lady of whom all Rhaetia talks is under the same roof with me!” exclaimed the young man, with slightly heightened colour.
”To you, more than to any other, I can speak freely of our danger,”
said the Chancellor. ”This girl has driven the Emperor into a fit of moon-madness. Heaven grant it may soon pa.s.s; and blessed would be the man who brought my poor master to his senses. If you would, Prince, _you might be that man_. The sword of justice is ready for your hand.”
”That sentence has a solemn ring. I know what I came here to do. But you seem to be preparing a different programme. Tell me, what sort of woman is this who has bewitched your grave Maximilian?”
”She is beautiful and clever, as women are clever; but not clever enough to fight her battle out against you and me.”
”Me? I do not fight with women; I make love to them.”
”Ah, you have said it, my dear Prince. That is what I want.”
Apollo laughed. ”Describe the girl,” he said. ”Is she fair or dark, tall or short, a slim Diana or a sumptuous Venus?”
”She is tall and slender, with the pink and white skin of a child; and she is dark-browed and yellow-haired, like the beauties of Austria,”
replied the Chancellor, doing justice to the enemy's charms, not so much through conscientious motives as because he desired to paint a pleasing picture. ”Her eyes are brown or violet; having nearly reached my threescore years and ten, I cannot tell you which. Her nose is of the Greek type, yet a trifle more piquant, it may be. Doubtless a poet would rave of her lips, red as geraniums on snow; and even I can affirm that when the lady looks down, and then looks up smiling with great play of dark curled lashes, the effect is somewhat striking. I can imagine that smile might quicken the pulses of a younger man than I.”
”It would quicken mine only to hear you tell of it, if you had not put a maggot in my head that tickles me to laughter instead of raptures,”
said the Prince, who was fully mindful of his own supremacy over women. ”Has this girl who calls herself De Courcy a little black mole on her forehead just above the left eye brow, and in that notable smile of hers, does the mouth point upward at the right, like a fairy sign-post showing the way to a small scar that masquerades as a dimple?”
The Chancellor gravely reflected for a moment, and then replied that to the best of his belief both these marks were distinctly visible on the lady's countenance. He did not add that he had met her but once, and had no eye for delicate details; for whatever the Prince's theory might be, it seemed advisable to establish it. ”Is it possible that you have met this dangerous young person?” he inquired, hiding eagerness.
”Well, I begin to believe that I have reason for thinking so; exactly why, I will tell you at another time--it means a confession. But a lady answering the description you have given might easily be in this neighbourhood--I'd heard she was in Rhaetia; in fact, when I suddenly made up my mind to come, I thought it not impossible that I might meet her. We'd quarrelled, after my having been weak enough one day to take her imprudently into my confidence concerning family affairs. This _coup_ she has so nearly made may be by way of revenge on me. She's capable of the clever conception too; but where did she develop the mother? I fancy I have heard that there _is_ a mother?”
”There is a marionette which answers to the name,” drily announced the Chancellor. ”But mothers are articles of easy manufacture.”
The Prince was immensely amused. ”No, she wouldn't stick at a mother, if she wanted one,” he chuckled, ”and, while she was about it, she appears to have annexed a whole family tree as well. That mole and the scar-dimple--you're sure of them, Chancellor? And the drawing up of the lips to the right when she smiles?”
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