Part 49 (2/2)
”He is not here,” she replied. She wondered at herself, her tones were so even, her mind was so clear.
One of the cuira.s.siers caught up her gown. ”What's this, Madame?” he demanded, pointing to the dark wet stains; ”and this?” to her hands, ”and this?” to the spots on the carpet, the basin and the sponge. ”To the roof, men; he has gone by the roof! Up with you!”
The ballet dancer held forth her hands in supplication; life forsook her limbs; she sank.
The cuira.s.siers rushed to the roof.... When they came down it was slowly and carefully. What they had found on the roof was of no use to them.
They laid the inanimate thing on the lounge, and frowned. One of the cuira.s.siers lifted the ballet dancer and carried her into her bed-room, and laid her on the bed. He had not the heart to revive her. Death softens all angers; even an enemy is no longer such when dead. And Johann Kopf was dead.
CHAPTER XXI. A COURT FETE AT THE RED CHATEAU
At eight o'clock of the following evening, that is to say, the nineteenth of September, Maurice mounted the Thalian pa.s.s and left the kingdom in the valley behind him. He was weary, dusty, lame and out of humor; besides, he had a new weight on his conscience. The night before he had taken the life of a man. True, this had happened before, but always in warfare. He had killed in a moment of rage and chagrin a poor devil who was at most only a puppet. There was small credit in the performance. However, the rascal would have suffered death in any event, his act being one of high treason.
In the long ride he had made up his mind to lock away forever the silly dream, the tender, futile, silly dream. All men die with secrets locked in their hearts; thus he, too, would die. His fancy leaped across the chasm of intervening years to the day of his death, and the thought was a happy one! He smiled sadly, as young men smile when they pity themselves. He knew that he would never get over it--in a day. But to-morrow, or to-morrow's to-morrow..
He took the pa.s.s's decline; the duchy spread away toward the south. A quarter of a mile below him he saw the barrack and the customs office which belonged to Madame the d.u.c.h.ess. The corporal inspected him and his papers, spoke lowly to the customs inspector, who returned to his office.
”It is all right, Monsieur Carewe,” said the corporal; ”I ought to recognize the horse a mile away. You will arrive just in time.”
”Just in time for what?”
”Ah, true. Her Highness gives a grand ball at the chateau to-night. The court has arrived from Brunnstadt. Some will reside at the chateau, some at General Duckwitz's, others at the Countess Herzberg's.”
”Has the d.u.c.h.ess arrived at last, then?” was the cynical inquiry.
”She will arrive this evening,” answered the corporal, grinning. ”A pleasant journey to you.”
Maurice proceeded. ”And that blockhead of an Englishman has not tumbled yet! The court here? A grand ball? What else can it mean but that Madame is celebrating a victory to come? If the archbishop has those consols, she will wage war; and this is the prelude.” He jogged along. He had accomplished a third of the remaining distance, when he was challenged.
The sentry came forward and scrutinized the rider.
”O, it is Monsieur Carewe!” he cried in delighted tones. He touched his cap and fell back into the shadows.
A mile farther, and the great chateau, scintillating with lights, loomed up against the yellow sky. He felt a thrill of excitement. Doubtless there would be some bright pa.s.sages before the night drew to a close. He would make furious love to the pretty countess; it would be something in the way of relaxation. How would they greet him? What would be Madame's future plans in regard to Fitzgerald? How would she get him out of the way, now that he had served her purpose? He laughed.
”The future promises much,” he said, half aloud. ”I am really glad that I came back.”
”Halt!”
Maurice drew up. A sentry stepped out into the road.
”O, it is Monsieur Carewe!” he cried. With a short laugh he disappeared.
”Hang me,” grumbled Maurice as he went on, ”these fellows have remarkable memories. I can't recollect any of them.” He was mystified.
Shortly he came upon the patrol. The leader ordered him to dismount, an order be obeyed willingly, for he was longing to stand again. He shook his legs, while the leader struck a match.
”Why, it is Monsieur Carewe!” he cried. ”Good! We are coming out to meet you. This is a pleasure indeed.”
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