Part 12 (1/2)
The Count smiled in supreme satisfaction.
”I can a.s.sure Your Highness we are of one mind that, in this exigency, it is your duty to a.s.sume the office.”
The Princess arose. ”Then, my lords,” she said gravely, ”I accept, hereby engaging that my wedding shall abide the termination of the Regency.”
The Archduke made a gesture of protest, but Dehra flashed him her subduing smile and shook her head, and there was naught for him to do but to smile back-and add one more to the score that, some day, Ferdinand of Lotzen would have to settle.
The Prime Minister looked at the Duke with a bland smile of triumph, and then at Armand.
”Is it your joint wish,” he asked, ”that we ratify the stipulation and proclaim the Regency?”
”It is,” said the Archduke; but Lotzen only bowed.
Count Epping drew his sword.
”Valeria hails the Princess Dehra as Regent,” he cried. It was the ancient formula changed to fit the occasion.
And this time Armand's blade rang with the others across the table, and his voice joined exultantly in the answer that echoed through the room.
”We hail the Princess Regent!”
As the sound died Ferdinand of Lotzen stepped forward and bent knee.
”G.o.d save Your Royal Highness!” he said, and again Dehra gave him her hand.
”And grant me strength,” she answered.
”Amen,” said the Count gravely. ”Amen.”
It was Lotzen who broke the stillness.
”With Your Highness' permission I will withdraw,” he said; ”there are pressing personal affairs which demand my presence elsewhere.” He turned to go.
”One moment, cousin,” said she-then to the Prime Minister: ”Will the Council need His Highness?”
There was the same gracious manner, the same soft voice, and yet, in those few words, she warned them all that there was now a Regent in Valeria-and a Dalberg regent, too.
”There is nothing now but to draw the Proclamation for your signature,”
said the Count-”the other matters can abide for the time.”
And Lotzen, at the Princess' nod of permission, went slowly from the room, his surprise still stronger than his anger; though, in the end, it was the latter that lingered and left its mark in his unforgiving soul.
While the Count was drafting the Proclamation made necessary by the changed conditions, the Princess sat in silence, gazing in abstracted contemplation through the window. Regent of Valeria! the second the kingdom had known; the first had been a woman, too-Eleanor, mother of the infant, Henry the Third of glorious memory-yet, was it wise-was it in fact her duty-her duty to her House; to her beloved? Surely it was not to her pleasure-she who had been happy in her nearing wedding day-her lover placed next the Throne-his bright future and her joy for it. And now-the wait-the struggle-the obligation of right, of justice; the putting off the woman, the putting on the ruler where the woman interfered. Her father! she turned that thought aside sharply-she had turned it aside many times since yesterday, as he had bade her to do:-”When I go, child, do not grieve.” Yet, when two have been comrades for years it is not easy.
The Count ceased his writing and, laying aside the pen, looked up.
”Will it please Your Highness to sign?” he said quickly-he had little liking at any time for a woman's reverie, and none at all when it was of the sort he knew this reverie to be-and the woman had work to do.