diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/1145-h/1145-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/1145-h/1145-h.htm | 12112 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 12112 deletions
diff --git a/old/1145-h/1145-h.htm b/old/1145-h/1145-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 672793a..0000000 --- a/old/1145-h/1145-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12112 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <title> - Rupert of Hentzau, by Anthony Hope - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rupert of Hentzau, by Anthony Hope - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Rupert of Hentzau - From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim: The Sequel to - The Prisoner of Zenda - -Author: Anthony Hope - -Release Date: August 3, 2008 [EBook #1145] -Last Updated: October 22, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUPERT OF HENTZAU *** - - - - -Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h1> - RUPERT OF HENTZAU - </h1> - <h2> - FROM THE MEMOIRS OF FRITZ VON TARLENHEIM - </h2> - <h3> - Sequel to The Prisoner of Zenda - </h3> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - By Anthony Hope - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE QUEEN’S - GOOD-BY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> A - STATION WITHOUT A CAB <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. - </a> AGAIN TO ZENDA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> - CHAPTER IV. </a> AN EDDY ON THE MOAT <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> AN AUDIENCE OF THE KING - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE TASK - OF THE QUEEN’S SERVANTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. - </a> THE MESSAGE OF SIMON THE HUNTSMAN <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE TEMPER OF BORIS - THE HOUND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE - KING IN THE HUNTING LODGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. - </a> THE KING IN STRELSAU <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> - CHAPTER XI. </a> WHAT THE CHANCELLOR’S WIFE SAW <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> BEFORE THEM ALL! - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> A KING - UP HIS SLEEVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE - NEWS COMES TO STRELSAU <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. - </a> A PASTIME FOR COLONEL SAPT <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> A CROWD IN THE - KONIGSTRASSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> YOUNG - RUPERT AND THE PLAY-ACTOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER - XVIII. </a> THE TRIUMPH OF THE KING <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> FOR OUR LOVE AND HER - HONOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> THE - DECISION OF HEAVEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE - COMING OF THE DREAM <br /><br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. THE QUEEN’S GOOD-BY - </h2> - <p> - A man who has lived in the world, marking how every act, although in - itself perhaps light and insignificant, may become the source of - consequences that spread far and wide, and flow for years or centuries, - could scarcely feel secure in reckoning that with the death of the Duke of - Strelsau and the restoration of King Rudolf to liberty and his throne, - there would end, for good and all, the troubles born of Black Michael’s - daring conspiracy. The stakes had been high, the struggle keen; the edge - of passion had been sharpened, and the seeds of enmity sown. Yet Michael, - having struck for the crown, had paid for the blow with his life: should - there not then be an end? Michael was dead, the Princess her cousin’s - wife, the story in safe keeping, and Mr. Rassendyll’s face seen no more in - Ruritania. Should there not then be an end? So said I to my friend the - Constable of Zenda, as we talked by the bedside of Marshal Strakencz. The - old man, already nearing the death that soon after robbed us of his aid - and counsel, bowed his head in assent: in the aged and ailing the love of - peace breeds hope of it. But Colonel Sapt tugged at his gray moustache, - and twisted his black cigar in his mouth, saying, “You’re very sanguine, - friend Fritz. But is Rupert of Hentzau dead? I had not heard it.” - </p> - <p> - Well said, and like old Sapt! Yet the man is little without the - opportunity, and Rupert by himself could hardly have troubled our repose. - Hampered by his own guilt, he dared not set his foot in the kingdom from - which by rare good luck he had escaped, but wandered to and fro over - Europe, making a living by his wits, and, as some said, adding to his - resources by gallantries for which he did not refuse substantial - recompense. But he kept himself constantly before our eyes, and never - ceased to contrive how he might gain permission to return and enjoy the - estates to which his uncle’s death had entitled him. The chief agent - through whom he had the effrontery to approach the king was his relative, - the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim, a young man of high rank and great wealth - who was devoted to Rupert. The count fulfilled his mission well: - acknowledging Rupert’s heavy offences, he put forward in his behalf the - pleas of youth and of the predominant influence which Duke Michael had - exercised over his adherent, and promised, in words so significant as to - betray Rupert’s own dictation, a future fidelity no less discreet than - hearty. “Give me my price and I’ll hold my tongue,” seemed to come in - Rupert’s off-hand accents through his cousin’s deferential lips. As may be - supposed, however, the king and those who advised him in the matter, - knowing too well the manner of man the Count of Hentzau was, were not - inclined to give ear to his ambassador’s prayer. We kept firm hold on - Master Rupert’s revenues, and as good watch as we could on his movements; - for we were most firmly determined that he should never return to - Ruritania. Perhaps we might have obtained his extradition and hanged him - on the score of his crimes; but in these days every rogue who deserves no - better than to be strung up to the nearest tree must have what they call a - fair trial; and we feared that, if Rupert were handed over to our police - and arraigned before the courts at Strelsau, the secret which we guarded - so sedulously would become the gossip of all the city, ay, and of all - Europe. So Rupert went unpunished except by banishment and the impounding - of his rents. - </p> - <p> - Yet Sapt was in the right about him. Helpless as he seemed, he did not for - an instant abandon the contest. He lived in the faith that his chance - would come, and from day to day was ready for its coming. He schemed - against us as we schemed to protect ourselves from him; if we watched him, - he kept his eye on us. His ascendency over Luzau-Rischenheim grew markedly - greater after a visit which his cousin paid to him in Paris. From this - time the young count began to supply him with resources. Thus armed, he - gathered instruments round him and organized a system of espionage that - carried to his ears all our actions and the whole position of affairs at - court. He knew, far more accurately than anyone else outside the royal - circle, the measures taken for the government of the kingdom and the - considerations that dictated the royal policy. More than this, he - possessed himself of every detail concerning the king’s health, although - the utmost reticence was observed on this subject. Had his discoveries - stopped there, they would have been vexatious and disquieting, but perhaps - of little serious harm. They went further. Set on the track by his - acquaintance with what had passed during Mr. Rassendyll’s tenure of the - throne, he penetrated the secret which had been kept successfully from the - king himself. In the knowledge of it he found the opportunity for which he - had waited; in its bold use he discerned his chance. I cannot say whether - he were influenced more strongly by his desire to reestablish his position - in the kingdom or by the grudge he bore against Mr. Rassendyll. He loved - power and money; dearly he loved revenge also. No doubt both motives - worked together, and he was rejoiced to find that the weapon put into his - hand had a double edge; with one he hoped to cut his own path clear; with - the other, to wound the man he hated through the woman whom that man - loved. In fine, the Count of Hentzau, shrewdly discerning the feeling that - existed between the queen and Rudolf Rassendyll, set his spies to work, - and was rewarded by discovering the object of my yearly meetings with Mr. - Rassendyll. At least he conjectured the nature of my errand; this was - enough for him. Head and hand were soon busy in turning the knowledge to - account; scruples of the heart never stood in Rupert’s way. - </p> - <p> - The marriage which had set all Ruritania on fire with joy and formed in - the people’s eyes the visible triumph over Black Michael and his - fellow-conspirators was now three years old. For three years the Princess - Flavia had been queen. I am come by now to the age when a man should look - out on life with an eye undimmed by the mists of passion. My love-making - days are over; yet there is nothing for which I am more thankful to - Almighty God than the gift of my wife’s love. In storm it has been my - anchor, and in clear skies my star. But we common folk are free to follow - our hearts; am I an old fool for saying that he is a fool who follows - anything else? Our liberty is not for princes. We need wait for no future - world to balance the luck of men; even here there is an equipoise. From - the highly placed a price is exacted for their state, their wealth, and - their honors, as heavy as these are great; to the poor, what is to us mean - and of no sweetness may appear decked in the robes of pleasure and - delight. Well, if it were not so, who could sleep at nights? The burden - laid on Queen Flavia I knew, and know, so well as a man can know it. I - think it needs a woman to know it fully; for even now my wife’s eyes fill - with tears when we speak of it. Yet she bore it, and if she failed in - anything, I wonder that it was in so little. For it was not only that she - had never loved the king and had loved another with all her heart. The - king’s health, shattered by the horror and rigors of his imprisonment in - the castle of Zenda, soon broke utterly. He lived, indeed; nay, he shot - and hunted, and kept in his hand some measure, at least, of government. - But always from the day of his release he was a fretful invalid, different - utterly from the gay and jovial prince whom Michael’s villains had caught - in the shooting lodge. There was worse than this. As time went on, the - first impulse of gratitude and admiration that he had felt towards Mr. - Rassendyll died away. He came to brood more and more on what had passed - while he was a prisoner; he was possessed not only by a haunting dread of - Rupert of Hentzau, at whose hands he had suffered so greatly, but also by - a morbid, half mad jealousy of Mr. Rassendyll. Rudolf had played the hero - while he lay helpless. Rudolf’s were the exploits for which his own people - cheered him in his own capital. Rudolf’s were the laurels that crowned his - impatient brow. He had enough nobility to resent his borrowed credit, - without the fortitude to endure it manfully. And the hateful comparison - struck him nearer home. Sapt would tell him bluntly that Rudolf did this - or that, set this precedent or that, laid down this or the other policy, - and that the king could do no better than follow in Rudolf’s steps. Mr. - Rassendyll’s name seldom passed his wife’s lips, but when she spoke of him - it was as one speaks of a great man who is dead, belittling all the living - by the shadow of his name. I do not believe that the king discerned that - truth which his wife spent her days in hiding from him; yet he was uneasy - if Rudolf’s name were mentioned by Sapt or myself, and from the queen’s - mouth he could not bear it. I have seen him fall into fits of passion on - the mere sound of it; for he lost control of himself on what seemed slight - provocation. - </p> - <p> - Moved by this disquieting jealousy, he sought continually to exact from - the queen proofs of love and care beyond what most husbands can boast of, - or, in my humble judgment, make good their right to, always asking of her - what in his heart he feared was not hers to give. Much she did in pity and - in duty; but in some moments, being but human and herself a woman of high - temper, she failed; then the slight rebuff or involuntary coldness was - magnified by a sick man’s fancy into great offence or studied insult, and - nothing that she could do would atone for it. Thus they, who had never in - truth come together, drifted yet further apart; he was alone in his - sickness and suspicion, she in her sorrows and her memories. There was no - child to bridge the gulf between them, and although she was his queen and - his wife, she grew almost a stranger to him. So he seemed to will that it - should be. - </p> - <p> - Thus, worse than widowed, she lived for three years; and once only in each - year she sent three words to the man she loved, and received from him - three words in answer. Then her strength failed her. A pitiful scene had - occurred in which the king peevishly upbraided her in regard to some - trivial matter—the occasion escapes my memory—speaking to her - before others words that even alone she could not have listened to with - dignity. I was there, and Sapt; the colonel’s small eyes had gleamed in - anger. “I should like to shut his mouth for him,” I heard him mutter, for - the king’s waywardness had well-nigh worn out even his devotion. The - thing, of which I will say no more, happened a day or two before I was to - set out to meet Mr. Rassendyll. I was to seek him this time at Wintenberg, - for I had been recognized the year before at Dresden; and Wintenberg, - being a smaller place and less in the way of chance visitors, was deemed - safer. I remember well how she was when she called me into her own room, a - few hours after she had left the king. She stood by the table; the box was - on it, and I knew well that the red rose and the message were within. But - there was more to-day. Without preface she broke into the subject of my - errand. - </p> - <p> - “I must write to him,” she said. “I can’t bear it, I must write. My dear - friend Fritz, you will carry it safely for me, won’t you? And he must - write to me. And you’ll bring that safely, won’t you? Ah, Fritz, I know - I’m wrong, but I’m starved, starved, starved! And it’s for the last time. - For I know now that if I send anything, I must send more. So after this - time I won’t send at all. But I must say good-by to him; I must have his - good-by to carry me through my life. This once, then, Fritz, do it for - me.” - </p> - <p> - The tears rolled down her cheeks, which to-day were flushed out of their - paleness to a stormy red; her eyes defied me even while they pleaded. I - bent my head and kissed her hand. - </p> - <p> - “With God’s help I’ll carry it safely and bring his safely, my queen,” - said I. - </p> - <p> - “And tell me how he looks. Look at him closely, Fritz. See if he is well - and seems strong. Oh, and make him merry and happy! Bring that smile to - his lips, Fritz, and the merry twinkle to his eyes. When you speak of me, - see if he—if he looks as if he still loved me.” But then she broke - off, crying, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’d be grieved if I doubted - his love. I don’t doubt it; I don’t, indeed; but still tell me how he - looks when you speak of me, won’t you, Fritz? See, here’s the letter.” - </p> - <p> - Taking it from her bosom, she kissed it before she gave it to me. Then she - added a thousand cautions, how I was to carry her letter, how I was to go - and how return, and how I was to run no danger, because my wife Helga - loved me as well as she would have loved her husband had Heaven been - kinder. “At least, almost as I should, Fritz,” she said, now between - smiles and tears. She would not believe that any woman could love as she - loved. - </p> - <p> - I left the queen and went to prepare for my journey. I used to take only - one servant with me, and I had chosen a different man each year. None of - them had known that I met Mr. Rassendyll, but supposed that I was engaged - on the private business which I made my pretext for obtaining leave of - absence from the king. This time I had determined to take with me a Swiss - youth who had entered my service only a few weeks before. His name was - Bauer; he seemed a stolid, somewhat stupid fellow, but as honest as the - day and very obliging. - </p> - <p> - He had come to me well recommended, and I had not hesitated to engage him. - I chose him for my companion now, chiefly because he was a foreigner and - therefore less likely to gossip with the other servants when we returned. - I do not pretend to much cleverness, but I confess that it vexes me to - remember how that stout, guileless-looking youth made a fool of me. For - Rupert knew that I had met Mr. Rassendyll the year before at Dresden; - Rupert was keeping a watchful eye on all that passed in Strelsau; Rupert - had procured the fellow his fine testimonials and sent him to me, in the - hope that he would chance on something of advantage to his employer. My - resolve to take him to Wintenberg may have been hoped for, but could - scarcely have been counted on; it was the added luck that waits so often - on the plans of a clever schemer. - </p> - <p> - Going to take leave of the king, I found him huddled over the fire. The - day was not cold, but the damp chill of his dungeon seemed to have - penetrated to the very core of his bones. He was annoyed at my going, and - questioned me peevishly about the business that occasioned my journey. I - parried his curiosity as I best could, but did not succeed in appeasing - his ill-humor. Half ashamed of his recent outburst, half-anxious to - justify it to himself, he cried fretfully: - </p> - <p> - “Business! Yes, any business is a good enough excuse for leaving me! By - Heaven, I wonder if a king was ever served so badly as I am! Why did you - trouble to get me out of Zenda? Nobody wants me, nobody cares whether I - live or die.” - </p> - <p> - To reason with such a mood was impossible. I could only assure him that I - would hasten my return by all possible means. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, pray do,” said he. “I want somebody to look after me. Who knows what - that villain Rupert may attempt against me? And I can’t defend myself can - I? I’m not Rudolf Rassendyll, am I?” - </p> - <p> - Thus, with a mixture of plaintiveness and malice, he scolded me. At last I - stood silent, waiting till he should be pleased to dismiss me. At any rate - I was thankful that he entertained no suspicion as to my errand. Had I - spoken a word of Mr. Rassendyll he would not have let me go. He had fallen - foul of me before on learning that I was in communication with Rudolf; so - completely had jealousy destroyed gratitude in his breast. If he had known - what I carried, I do not think that he could have hated his preserver - more. Very likely some such feeling was natural enough; it was none the - less painful to perceive. - </p> - <p> - On leaving the king’s presence, I sought out the Constable of Zenda. He - knew my errand; and, sitting down beside him, I told him of the letter I - carried, and arranged how to apprise him of my fortune surely and quickly. - He was not in a good humor that day: the king had ruffled him also, and - Colonel Sapt had no great reserve of patience. - </p> - <p> - “If we haven’t cut one another’s throats before then, we shall all be at - Zenda by the time you arrive at Wintenberg,” he said. “The court moves - there to-morrow, and I shall be there as long as the king is.” - </p> - <p> - He paused, and then added: “Destroy the letter if there’s any danger.” - </p> - <p> - I nodded my head. - </p> - <p> - “And destroy yourself with it, if there’s the only way,” he went on with a - surly smile. “Heaven knows why she must send such a silly message at all; - but since she must, she’d better have sent me with it.” - </p> - <p> - I knew that Sapt was in the way of jeering at all sentiment, and I took no - notice of the terms that he applied to the queen’s farewell. I contented - myself with answering the last part of what he said. - </p> - <p> - “No, it’s better you should be here,” I urged. “For if I should lose the - letter—though there’s little chance of it—you could prevent it - from coming to the king.” - </p> - <p> - “I could try,” he grinned. “But on my life, to run the chance for a - letter’s sake! A letter’s a poor thing to risk the peace of a kingdom - for.” - </p> - <p> - “Unhappily,” said I, “it’s the only thing that a messenger can well - carry.” - </p> - <p> - “Off with you, then,” grumbled the colonel. “Tell Rassendyll from me that - he did well. But tell him to do something more. Let ‘em say good-by and - have done with it. Good God, is he going to waste all his life thinking of - a woman he never sees?” Sapt’s air was full of indignation. - </p> - <p> - “What more is he to do?” I asked. “Isn’t his work here done?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, it’s done. Perhaps it’s done,” he answered. “At least he has given us - back our good king.” - </p> - <p> - To lay on the king the full blame for what he was would have been rank - injustice. Sapt was not guilty of it, but his disappointment was bitter - that all our efforts had secured no better ruler for Ruritania. Sapt could - serve, but he liked his master to be a man. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I’m afraid the lad’s work here is done,” he said, as I shook him by - the hand. Then a sudden light came in his eyes. “Perhaps not,” he - muttered. “Who knows?” - </p> - <p> - A man need not, I hope, be deemed uxorious for liking a quiet dinner alone - with his wife before he starts on a long journey. Such, at least, was my - fancy; and I was annoyed to find that Helga’s cousin, Anton von Strofzin, - had invited himself to share our meal and our farewell. He conversed with - his usual airy emptiness on all the topics that were supplying Strelsau - with gossip. There were rumors that the king was ill; that the queen was - angry at being carried off to Zenda; that the archbishop meant to preach - against low dresses; that the chancellor was to be dismissed; that his - daughter was to be married; and so forth. I heard without listening. But - the last bit of his budget caught my wandering attention. - </p> - <p> - “They were betting at the club,” said Anton, “that Rupert of Hentzau would - be recalled. Have you heard anything about it, Fritz?” - </p> - <p> - If I had known anything, it is needless to say that I should not have - confided it to Anton. But the suggested step was so utterly at variance - with the king’s intentions that I made no difficulty about contradicting - the report with an authoritative air. Anton heard me with a judicial - wrinkle on his smooth brow. - </p> - <p> - “That’s all very well,” said he, “and I dare say you’re bound to say so. - All I know is that Rischenheim dropped a hint to Colonel Markel a day or - two ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Rischenheim believes what he hopes,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “And where’s he gone?” cried Anton, exultantly. “Why has he suddenly left - Strelsau? I tell you he’s gone to meet Rupert, and I’ll bet you what you - like he carries some proposal. Ah, you don’t know everything, Fritz, my - boy?” - </p> - <p> - It was indeed true that I did not know everything. I made haste to admit - as much. “I didn’t even know that the count was gone, much less why he’s - gone,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “You see?” exclaimed Anton. And he added, patronizingly, “You should keep - your ears open, my boy; then you might be worth what the king pays you.” - </p> - <p> - “No less, I trust,” said I, “for he pays me nothing.” Indeed, at this time - I held no office save the honorary position of chamberlain to Her Majesty. - Any advice the king needed from me was asked and given unofficially. - </p> - <p> - Anton went off, persuaded that he had scored a point against me. I could - not see where. It was possible that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim had - gone to meet his cousin, equally possible that no such business claimed - his care. At any rate, the matter was not for me. I had a more pressing - affair in hand. Dismissing the whole thing from my mind, I bade the butler - tell Bauer to go forward with my luggage and to let my carriage be at the - door in good time. Helga had busied herself, since our guest’s departure, - in preparing small comforts for my journey; now she came to me to say - good-by. Although she tried to hide all signs of it, I detected an - uneasiness in her manner. She did not like these errands of mine, - imagining dangers and risks of which I saw no likelihood. I would not give - in to her mood, and, as I kissed her, I bade her expect me back in a few - days’ time. Not even to her did I speak of the new and more dangerous - burden that I carried, although I was aware that she enjoyed a full - measure of the queen’s confidence. - </p> - <p> - “My love to King Rudolf, the real King Rudolf,” said she. “Though you - carry what will make him think little of my love.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no desire he should think too much of it, sweet,” said I. She - caught me by the hands, and looked up in my face. - </p> - <p> - “What a friend you are, aren’t you, Fritz?” said she. “You worship Mr. - Rassendyll. I know you think I should worship him too, if he asked me. - Well, I shouldn’t. I am foolish enough to have my own idol.” All my - modesty did not let me doubt who her idol might be. Suddenly she drew near - to me and whispered in my ear. I think that our own happiness brought to - her a sudden keen sympathy with her mistress. - </p> - <p> - “Make him send her a loving message, Fritz,” she whispered. “Something - that will comfort her. Her idol can’t be with her as mine is with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he’ll send something to comfort her,” I answered. “And God keep you, - my dear.” - </p> - <p> - For he would surely send an answer to the letter that I carried, and that - answer I was sworn to bring safely to her. So I set out in good heart, - bearing in the pocket of my coat the little box and the queen’s good-by. - And, as Colonel Sapt said to me, both I would destroy, if need were—ay, - and myself with them. A man did not serve Queen Flavia with divided mind. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. A STATION WITHOUT A CAB - </h2> - <p> - The arrangements for my meeting with Mr. Rassendyll had been carefully - made by correspondence before he left England. He was to be at the Golden - Lion Hotel at eleven o’clock on the night of the 15th of October. I - reckoned to arrive in the town between eight and nine on the same evening, - to proceed to another hotel, and, on pretence of taking a stroll, slip out - and call on him at the appointed hour. I should then fulfil my commission, - take his answer, and enjoy the rare pleasure of a long talk with him. - Early the next morning he would have left Wintenberg, and I should be on - my way back to Strelsau. I knew that he would not fail to keep his - appointment, and I was perfectly confident of being able to carry out the - programme punctually; I had, however, taken the precaution of obtaining a - week’s leave of absence, in case any unforeseen accident should delay my - return. Conscious of having done all I could to guard against - misunderstanding or mishap, I got into the train in a tolerably peaceful - frame of mind. The box was in my inner pocket, the letter in a - portemonnaie. I could feel them both with my hand. I was not in uniform, - but I took my revolver. Although I had no reason to anticipate any - difficulties, I did not forget that what I carried must be protected at - all hazards and all costs. - </p> - <p> - The weary night journey wore itself away. Bauer came to me in the morning, - performed his small services, repacked my hand-bag, procured me some - coffee, and left me. It was then about eight o’clock; we had arrived at a - station of some importance and were not to stop again till mid-day. I saw - Bauer enter the second-class compartment in which he was traveling, and - settled down in my own coupe. I think it was at this moment that the - thought of Rischenheim came again into my head, and I found myself - wondering why he clung to the hopeless idea of compassing Rupert’s return - and what business had taken him from Strelsau. But I made little of the - matter, and, drowsy from a broken night’s rest, soon fell into a doze. I - was alone in the carriage and could sleep without fear or danger. I was - awakened by our noontide halt. Here I saw Bauer again. After taking a - basin of soup, I went to the telegraph bureau to send a message to my - wife; the receipt of it would not merely set her mind at ease, but would - also ensure word of my safe progress reaching the queen. As I entered the - bureau I met Bauer coming out of it. He seemed rather startled at our - encounter, but told me readily enough that he had been telegraphing for - rooms at Wintenberg, a very needless precaution, since there was no danger - of the hotel being full. In fact I was annoyed, as I especially wished to - avoid calling attention to my arrival. However, the mischief was done, and - to rebuke my servant might have aggravated it by setting his wits at work - to find out my motive for secrecy. So I said nothing, but passed by him - with a nod. When the whole circumstances came to light, I had reason to - suppose that besides his message to the inn-keeper, Bauer sent one of a - character and to a quarter unsuspected by me. - </p> - <p> - We stopped once again before reaching Wintenberg. I put my head out of the - window to look about me, and saw Bauer standing near the luggage van. He - ran to me eagerly, asking whether I required anything. I told him - “nothing”; but instead of going away, he began to talk to me. Growing - weary of him, I returned to my seat and waited impatiently for the train - to go on. There was a further delay of five minutes, and then we started. - </p> - <p> - “Thank goodness!” I exclaimed, leaning back comfortably in my seat and - taking a cigar from my case. - </p> - <p> - But in a moment the cigar rolled unheeded on to the floor, as I sprang - eagerly to my feet and darted to the window. For just as we were clearing - the station, I saw being carried past the carriage, on the shoulders of a - porter, a bag which looked very much like mine. Bauer had been in charge - of my bag, and it had been put in the van under his directions. It seemed - unlikely that it should be taken out now by any mistake. Yet the bag I saw - was very like the bag I owned. But I was not sure, and could have done - nothing had I been sure. We were not to stop again before Wintenberg, and, - with my luggage or without it, I myself must be in the town that evening. - </p> - <p> - We arrived punctual to our appointed time. I sat in the carriage a moment - or two, expecting Bauer to open the door and relieve me of my small - baggage. He did not come, so I got out. It seemed that I had few - fellow-passengers, and these were quickly disappearing on foot or in - carriages and carts that waited outside the station. I stood looking for - my servant and my luggage. The evening was mild; I was encumbered with my - hand-bag and a heavy fur coat. There were no signs either of Bauer or of - baggage. I stayed where I was for five or six minutes. The guard of the - train had disappeared, but presently I observed the station-master; he - seemed to be taking a last glance round the premises. Going up to him I - asked whether he had seen my servant; he could give me no news of him. I - had no luggage ticket, for mine had been in Bauer’s hands; but I prevailed - on him to allow me to look at the baggage which had arrived; my property - was not among it. The station-master was inclined, I think, to be a little - skeptical as to the existence both of bag and of servant. His only - suggestion was that the man must have been left behind accidentally. I - pointed out that in this case he would not have had the bag with him, but - that it would have come on in the train. The station-master admitted the - force of my argument; he shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands out; - he was evidently at the end of his resources. - </p> - <p> - Now, for the first time and with sudden force, a doubt of Bauer’s fidelity - thrust itself into my mind. I remembered how little I knew of the fellow - and how great my charge was. Three rapid movements of my hand assured me - that letter, box, and revolver were in their respective places. If Bauer - had gone hunting in the bag, he had drawn a blank. The station-master - noticed nothing; he was stating at the dim gas lamp that hung from the - roof. I turned to him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, tell him when he comes—” I began. - </p> - <p> - “He won’t come to-night, now,” interrupted the stationmaster, none too - politely. “No other train arrives to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell him when he does come to follow me at once to the Wintenbergerhof. - I’m going there immediately.” For time was short, and I did not wish to - keep Mr. Rassendyll waiting. Besides, in my new-born nervousness, I was - anxious to accomplish my errand as soon as might be. What had become of - Bauer? The thought returned, and now with it another, that seemed to - connect itself in some subtle way with my present position: why and - whither had the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim set out from Strelsau a day - before I started on my journey to Wintenberg? - </p> - <p> - “If he comes I’ll tell him,” said the station-master, and as he spoke he - looked round the yard. - </p> - <p> - There was not a cab to be seen! I knew that the station lay on the extreme - outskirts of the town, for I had passed through Wintenberg on my wedding - journey, nearly three years before. The trouble involved in walking, and - the further waste of time, put the cap on my irritation. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you have enough cabs?” I asked angrily. - </p> - <p> - “There are plenty generally, sir,” he answered more civilly, with an - apologetic air. “There would be to-night but for an accident.” - </p> - <p> - Another accident! This expedition of mine seemed doomed to be the sport of - chance. - </p> - <p> - “Just before your train arrived,” he continued, “a local came in. As a - rule, hardly anybody comes by it, but to-night a number of men—oh, - twenty or five-and-twenty, I should think—got out. I collected their - tickets myself, and they all came from the first station on the line. - Well, that’s not so strange, for there’s a good beer-garden there. But, - curiously enough, every one of them hired a separate cab and drove off, - laughing and shouting to one another as they went. That’s how it happens - that there were only one or two cabs left when your train came in, and - they were snapped up at once.” - </p> - <p> - Taken alone, this occurrence was nothing; but I asked myself whether the - conspiracy that had robbed me of my servant had deprived me of a vehicle - also. - </p> - <p> - “What sort of men were they?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “All sorts of men, sir,” answered the station-master, “but most of them - were shabby-looking fellows. I wondered where some of them had got the - money for their ride.” - </p> - <p> - The vague feeling of uneasiness which had already attacked me grew - stronger. Although I fought against it, calling myself an old woman and a - coward, I must confess to an impulse which almost made me beg the - station-master’s company on my walk; but, besides being ashamed to exhibit - a timidity apparently groundless, I was reluctant to draw attention to - myself in any way. I would not for the world have it supposed that I - carried anything of value. - </p> - <p> - “Well, there’s no help for it,” said I, and, buttoning my heavy coat about - me, I took my hand-bag and stick in one hand, and asked my way to the - hotel. My misfortunes had broken down the station-master’s indifference, - and he directed me in a sympathetic tone. - </p> - <p> - “Straight along the road, sir,” said he, “between the poplars, for hard on - half a mile; then the houses begin, and your hotel is in the first square - you come to, on the right.” - </p> - <p> - I thanked him curtly (for I had not quite forgiven him his earlier - incivility), and started on my walk, weighed down by my big coat and the - handbag. When I left the lighted station yard I realized that the evening - had fallen very dark, and the shade of the tall lank trees intensified the - gloom. I could hardly see my way, and went timidly, with frequent stumbles - over the uneven stones of the road. The lamps were dim, few, and widely - separated; so far as company was concerned, I might have been a thousand - miles from an inhabited house. In spite of myself, the thought of danger - persistently assailed my mind. I began to review every circumstance of my - journey, twisting the trivial into some ominous shape, magnifying the - significance of everything which might justly seem suspicious, studying in - the light of my new apprehensions every expression of Bauer’s face and - every word that had fallen from his lips. I could not persuade myself into - security. I carried the queen’s letter, and—well, I would have given - much to have old Sapt or Rudolf Rassendyll by my side. - </p> - <p> - Now, when a man suspects danger, let him not spend his time in asking - whether there be really danger or in upbraiding himself for timidity, but - let him face his cowardice, and act as though the danger were real. If I - had followed that rule and kept my eyes about me, scanning the sides of - the road and the ground in front of my feet, instead of losing myself in a - maze of reflection, I might have had time to avoid the trap, or at least - to get my hand to my revolver and make a fight for it; or, indeed, in the - last resort, to destroy what I carried before harm came to it. But my mind - was preoccupied, and the whole thing seemed to happen in a minute. At the - very moment that I had declared to myself the vanity of my fears and - determined to be resolute in banishing them, I heard voices—a low, - strained whispering; I saw two or three figures in the shadow of the - poplars by the wayside. An instant later, a dart was made at me. While I - could fly I would not fight; with a sudden forward plunge I eluded the men - who rushed at me, and started at a run towards the lights of the town and - the shapes of the houses, now distant about a quarter of a mile. Perhaps I - ran twenty yards, perhaps fifty; I do not know. I heard the steps behind - me, quick as my own. Then I fell headlong on the road—tripped up! I - understood. They had stretched a rope across my path; as I fell a man - bounded up from either side, and I found the rope slack under my body. - There I lay on my face; a man knelt on me, others held either hand; my - face was pressed into the mud of the road, and I was like to have been - stifled; my hand-bag had whizzed away from me. Then a voice said: - </p> - <p> - “Turn him over.” - </p> - <p> - I knew the voice; it was a confirmation of the fears which I had lately - been at such pains to banish. It justified the forecast of Anton von - Strofzin, and explained the wager of the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim—for - it was Rischenheim’s voice. - </p> - <p> - They caught hold of me and began to turn me on my back. Here I saw a - chance, and with a great heave of my body I flung them from me. For a - short instant I was free; my impetuous attack seemed to have startled the - enemy; I gathered myself up on my knees. But my advantage was not to last - long. Another man, whom I had not seen, sprang suddenly on me like a - bullet from a catapult. His fierce onset overthrew me; I was stretched on - the ground again, on my back now, and my throat was clutched viciously in - strong fingers. At the same moment my arms were again seized and pinned. - The face of the man on my chest bent down towards mine, and through the - darkness I discerned the features of Rupert of Hentzau. He was panting - with the sudden exertion and the intense force with which he held me, but - he was smiling also; and when he saw by my eyes that I knew him, he - laughed softly in triumph. Then came Rischenheim’s voice again. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s the bag he carried? It may be in the bag.” - </p> - <p> - “You fool, he’ll have it about him,” said Rupert, scornfully. “Hold him - fast while I search.” - </p> - <p> - On either side my hands were still pinned fast. Rupert’s left hand did not - leave my throat, but his free right hand began to dart about me, feeling, - probing, and rummaging. I lay quite helpless and in the bitterness of - great consternation. Rupert found my revolver, drew it out with a gibe, - and handed it to Rischenheim, who was now standing beside him. Then he - felt the box, he drew it out, his eyes sparkled. He set his knee hard on - my chest, so that I could scarcely breathe; then he ventured to loose my - throat, and tore the box open eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Bring a light here,” he cried. Another ruffian came with a dark-lantern, - whose glow he turned on the box. Rupert opened it, and when he saw what - was inside, he laughed again, and stowed it away in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Quick, quick!” urged Rischenheim. “We’ve got what we wanted, and somebody - may come at any moment.” - </p> - <p> - A brief hope comforted me. The loss of the box was a calamity, but I would - pardon fortune if only the letter escaped capture. Rupert might have - suspected that I carried some such token as the box, but he could not know - of the letter. Would he listen to Rischenheim? No. The Count of Hentzau - did things thoroughly. - </p> - <p> - “We may as well overhaul him a bit more,” said he, and resumed his search. - My hope vanished, for now he was bound to come upon the letter. - </p> - <p> - Another instant brought him to it. He snatched the pocketbook, and, - motioning impatiently to the man to hold the lantern nearer, he began to - examine the contents. I remember well the look of his face as the fierce - white light threw it up against the darkness in its clear pallor and - high-bred comeliness, with its curling lips and scornful eyes. He had the - letter now, and a gleam of joy danced in his eyes as he tore it open. A - hasty glance showed him what his prize was; then, coolly and deliberately - he settled himself to read, regarding neither Rischenheim’s nervous hurry - nor my desperate, angry glance that glared up at him. He read leisurely, - as though he had been in an armchair in his own house; the lips smiled and - curled as he read the last words that the queen had written to her lover. - He had indeed come on more than he thought. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim laid a hand on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Quick, Rupert, quick,” he urged again, in a voice full of agitation. - </p> - <p> - “Let me alone, man. I haven’t read anything so amusing for a long while,” - answered Rupert. Then he burst into a laugh, crying, “Look, look!” and - pointing to the foot of the last page of the letter. I was mad with anger; - my fury gave me new strength. In his enjoyment of what he read Rupert had - grown careless; his knee pressed more lightly on me, and as he showed - Rischenheim the passage in the letter that caused him so much amusement he - turned his head away for an instant. My chance had come. With a sudden - movement I displaced him, and with a desperate wrench I freed my right - hand. Darting it out, I snatched at the letter. Rupert, alarmed for his - treasure, sprang back and off me. I also sprang up on my feet, hurling - away the fellow who had gripped my other hand. For a moment I stood facing - Rupert; then I darted on him. He was too quick for me; he dodged behind - the man with the lantern and hurled the fellow forward against me. The - lantern fell on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Give me your stick!” I heard Rupert say. “Where is it? That’s right!” - </p> - <p> - Then came Rischenheim’s voice again, imploring and timid: - </p> - <p> - “Rupert, you promised not to kill him.” - </p> - <p> - The only answer was a short, fierce laugh. I hurled away the man who had - been thrust into my arms and sprang forward. I saw Rupert of Hentzau; his - hand was raised above his head and held a stout club. I do not know what - followed; there came—all in a confused blur of instant sequence—an - oath from Rupert, a rush from me, a scuffle, as though some one sought to - hold him back; then he was on me; I felt a great thud on my forehead, and - I felt nothing more. Again I was on my back, with a terrible pain in my - head, and a dull, dreamy consciousness of a knot of men standing over me, - talking eagerly to one another. - </p> - <p> - I could not hear what they were saying; I had no great desire to hear. I - fancied, somehow, that they were talking about me; they looked at me and - moved their hands towards me now and again. I heard Rupert’s laugh, and - saw his club poised over me; then Rischenheim caught him by the wrist. I - know now that Rischenheim was reminding his cousin that he had promised - not to kill me, that Rupert’s oath did not weigh a straw in the scales, - but that he was held back only by a doubt whether I alive or my dead body - would be more inconvenient to dispose of. Yet then I did not understand, - but lay there listless. And presently the talking forms seemed to cease - their talking; they grew blurred and dim, running into one another, and - all mingling together to form one great shapeless creature that seemed to - murmur and gibber over me, some such monster as a man sees in his dreams. - I hated to see it, and closed my eyes; its murmurings and gibberings - haunted my ears for awhile, making me restless and unhappy; then they died - away. Their going made me happy; I sighed in contentment; and everything - became as though it were not. - </p> - <p> - Yet I had one more vision, breaking suddenly across my unconsciousness. A - bold, rich voice rang out, “By God, I will!” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” cried another. Then, “What’s that?” There was a rush of feet, - the cries of men who met in anger or excitement, the crack of a shot and - of another quickly following, oaths, and scuffling. Then came the sound of - feet flying. I could not make it out; I grew weary with the puzzle of it. - Would they not be quiet? Quiet was what I wanted. At last they grew quiet; - I closed my eyes again. The pain was less now; they were quiet; I could - sleep. - </p> - <p> - When a man looks back on the past, reviewing in his mind the chances - Fortune has given and the calls she has made, he always torments himself - by thinking that he could have done other and better than in fact he did. - Even now I lie awake at night sometimes, making clever plans by which I - could have thwarted Rupert’s schemes. In these musings I am very acute; - Anton von Strofzin’s idle talk furnishes me with many a clue, and I draw - inferences sure and swift as a detective in the story books. Bauer is my - tool, I am not his. I lay Rischenheim by the heels, send Rupert howling - off with a ball in his arm, and carry my precious burden in triumph to Mr. - Rassendyll. By the time I have played the whole game I am indeed proud of - myself. Yet in truth—in daylight truth—I fear that, unless - Heaven sent me a fresh set of brains, I should be caught in much the same - way again. Though not by that fellow Bauer, I swear! Well, there it was. - They had made a fool of me. I lay on the road with a bloody head, and - Rupert of Hentzau had the queen’s letter. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. AGAIN TO ZENDA - </h2> - <p> - By Heaven’s care, or—since a man may be over-apt to arrogate to - himself great share of such attention—by good luck, I had not to - trust for my life to the slender thread of an oath sworn by Rupert of - Hentzau. The visions of my dazed brain were transmutations of reality; the - scuffle, the rush, the retreat were not all dream. - </p> - <p> - There is an honest fellow now living in Wintenberg comfortably and at his - ease by reason that his wagon chanced to come lumbering along with three - or four stout lads in it at the moment when Rupert was meditating a second - and murderous blow. Seeing the group of us, the good carrier and his lads - leapt down and rushed on my assailants. One of the thieves, they said, was - for fighting it out—I could guess who that was—and called on - the rest to stand; but they, more prudent, laid hands on him, and, in - spite of his oaths, hustled him off along the road towards the station. - Open country lay there and the promise of safety. My new friends set off - in pursuit; but a couple of revolver shots, heard by me, but not - understood, awoke their caution. Good Samaritans, but not men of war, they - returned to where I lay senseless on the ground, congratulating themselves - and me that an enemy so well armed should run and not stand his ground. - They forced a drink of rough wine down my throat, and in a minute or two I - opened my eyes. They were for carrying me to a hospital; I would have none - of it. As soon as things grew clear to me again and I knew where I was, I - did nothing but repeat in urgent tones, “The Golden Lion, The Golden Lion! - Twenty crowns to carry me to the Golden Lion.” - </p> - <p> - Perceiving that I knew my own business and where I wished to go, one - picked up my hand-bag and the rest hoisted me into their wagon and set out - for the hotel where Rudolf Rassendyll was. The one thought my broken head - held was to get to him as soon as might be and tell him how I had been - fool enough to let myself be robbed of the queen’s letter. - </p> - <p> - He was there. He stood on the threshold of the inn, waiting for me, as it - seemed, although it was not yet the hour of my appointment. As they drew - me up to the door, I saw his tall, straight figure and his red hair by the - light of the hall lamps. By Heaven, I felt as a lost child must on sight - of his mother! I stretched out my hand to him, over the side of the wagon, - murmuring, “I’ve lost it.” - </p> - <p> - He started at the words, and sprang forward to me. Then he turned quickly - to the carrier. - </p> - <p> - “This gentleman is my friend,” he said. “Give him to me. I’ll speak to you - later.” He waited while I was lifted down from the wagon into the arms - that he held ready for me, and himself carried me across the threshold. I - was quite clear in the head by now and understood all that passed. There - were one or two people in the hall, but Mr. Rassendyll took no heed of - them. He bore me quickly upstairs and into his sitting-room. There he set - me down in an arm-chair, and stood opposite to me. He was smiling, but - anxiety was awake in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve lost it,” I said again, looking up at him pitifully enough. - </p> - <p> - “That’s all right,” said he, nodding. “Will you wait, or can you tell me?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but give me some brandy,” said I. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf gave me a little brandy mixed in a great deal of water, and then I - made shift to tell him. Though faint, I was not confused, and I gave my - story in brief, hurried, yet sufficient words. He made no sign till I - mentioned the letter. Then his face changed. - </p> - <p> - “A letter, too?” he exclaimed, in a strange mixture of increased - apprehension and unlooked-for joy. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, a letter, too; she wrote a letter, and I carried that as well as the - box. I’ve lost them both, Rudolf. God help me, I’ve lost them both! Rupert - has the letter too!” I think I must have been weak and unmanned from the - blow I had received, for my composure broke down here. Rudolf stepped up - to me and wrung me by the hand. I mastered myself again and looked in his - face as he stood in thought, his hand caressing the strong curve of his - clean-shaven chin. Now that I was with him again it seemed as though I had - never lost him; as though we were still together in Strelsau or at - Tarlenheim, planning how to hoodwink Black Michael, send Rupert of Hentzau - to his own place, and bring the king back to his throne. For Mr. - Rassendyll, as he stood before me now, was changed in nothing since our - last meeting, nor indeed since he reigned in Strelsau, save that a few - flecks of gray spotted his hair. - </p> - <p> - My battered head ached most consumedly. Mr. Rassendyll rang the bell - twice, and a short, thickset man of middle age appeared; he wore a suit of - tweed, and had the air of smartness and respectability which marks English - servants. - </p> - <p> - “James,” said Rudolf, “this gentleman has hurt his head. Look after it.” - </p> - <p> - James went out. In a few minutes he was back, with water, basin, towels, - and bandages. Bending over me, he began to wash and tend my wound very - deftly. Rudolf was walking up and down. - </p> - <p> - “Done the head, James?” he asked, after a few moments. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” answered the servant, gathering together his appliances. - </p> - <p> - “Telegraph forms, then.” - </p> - <p> - James went out, and was back with the forms in an instant. - </p> - <p> - “Be ready when I ring,” said Rudolf. And he added, turning to me, “Any - easier, Fritz?” - </p> - <p> - “I can listen to you now,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I see their game,” said he. “One or other of them, Rupert or this - Rischenheim, will try to get to the king with the letter.” - </p> - <p> - I sprang to my feet. - </p> - <p> - “They mustn’t,” I cried, and I reeled back into my chair, with a feeling - as if a red-hot poker were being run through my head. - </p> - <p> - “Much you can do to stop ‘em, old fellow,” smiled Rudolf, pausing to press - my hand as he went by. “They won’t trust the post, you know. One will go. - Now which?” He stood facing me with a thoughtful frown on his face. - </p> - <p> - I did not know, but I thought that Rischenheim would go. It was a great - risk for Rupert to trust himself in the kingdom, and he knew that the king - would not easily be persuaded to receive him, however startling might be - the business he professed as his errand. On the other hand, nothing was - known against Rischenheim, while his rank would secure, and indeed - entitle, him to an early audience. Therefore I concluded that Rischenheim - would go with the letter, or, if Rupert would not let that out of his - possession, with the news of the letter. - </p> - <p> - “Or a copy,” suggested Rassendyll. “Well, Rischenheim or Rupert will be on - his way by to-morrow morning, or is on his way to-night.” - </p> - <p> - Again I tried to rise, for I was on fire to prevent the fatal consequences - of my stupidity. Rudolf thrust me back in my chair, saying, “No, no.” Then - he sat down at the table and took up the telegraph forms. - </p> - <p> - “You and Sapt arranged a cipher, I suppose?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. You write the message, and I’ll put it into the cipher.” - </p> - <p> - “This is what I’ve written: ‘Document lost. Let nobody see him if - possible. Wire who asks.’ I don’t like to make it plainer: most ciphers - can be read, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Not ours,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Well, but will that do?” asked Rudolf, with an unconvinced smile. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think he’ll understand it.” And I wrote it again in the cipher; it - was as much as I could do to hold the pen. - </p> - <p> - The bell was rung again, and James appeared in an instant. - </p> - <p> - “Send this,” said Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “The offices will be shut, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “James, James!” - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir; but it may take an hour to get one open.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll give you half an hour. Have you money?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And now,” added Rudolf, turning to me, “you’d better go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - I do not recollect what I answered, for my faintness came upon me again, - and I remember only that Rudolf himself helped me into his own bed. I - slept, but I do not think he so much as lay down on the sofa; chancing to - awake once or twice, I heard him pacing about. But towards morning I slept - heavily, and I did not know what he was doing then. At eight o’clock James - entered and roused me. He said that a doctor was to be at the hotel in - half an hour, but that Mr. Rassendyll would like to see me for a few - minutes if I felt equal to business. I begged James to summon his master - at once. Whether I were equal or unequal, the business had to be done. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf came, calm and serene. Danger and the need for exertion acted on - him like a draught of good wine on a seasoned drinker. He was not only - himself, but more than himself: his excellences enhanced, the indolence - that marred him in quiet hours sloughed off. But to-day there was - something more; I can only describe it as a kind of radiance. I have seen - it on the faces of young sparks when the lady they love comes through the - ball-room door, and I have seen it glow more softly in a girl’s eyes when - some fellow who seemed to me nothing out of the ordinary asked her for a - dance. That strange gleam was on Rudolf’s face as he stood by my bedside. - I dare say it used to be on mine when I went courting. - </p> - <p> - “Fritz, old friend,” said he, “there’s an answer from Sapt. I’ll lay the - telegraph offices were stirred in Zenda as well as James stirred them here - in Wintenberg! And what do you think? Rischenheim asked for an audience - before he left Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - I raised myself on my elbow in the bed. - </p> - <p> - “You understand?” he went on. “He left on Monday. To-day’s Wednesday. The - king has granted him an audience at four on Friday. Well, then—” - </p> - <p> - “They counted on success,” I cried, “and Rischenheim takes the letter!” - </p> - <p> - “A copy, if I know Rupert of Hentzau. Yes, it was well laid. I like the - men taking all the cabs! How much ahead had they, now.” - </p> - <p> - I did not know that, though I had no more doubt than he that Rupert’s hand - was in the business. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he continued, “I am going to wire to Sapt to put Rischenheim off - for twelve hours if he can; failing that, to get the king away from - Zenda.” - </p> - <p> - “But Rischenheim must have his audience sooner or later,” I objected. - </p> - <p> - “Sooner or later—there’s the world’s difference between them!” cried - Rudolf Rassendyll. He sat down on the bed by me, and went on in quick, - decisive words: “You can’t move for a day or two. Send my message to Sapt. - Tell him to keep you informed of what happens. As soon as you can travel, - go to Strelsau, and let Sapt know directly you arrive. We shall want your - help.” - </p> - <p> - “And what are you going to do?” I cried, staring at him. - </p> - <p> - He looked at me for a moment, and his face was crossed by conflicting - feelings. I saw resolve there, obstinacy, and the scorn of danger; fun, - too, and merriment; and, lastly, the same radiance I spoke of. He had been - smoking a cigarette; now he threw the end of it into the grate and rose - from the bed where he had been sitting. - </p> - <p> - “I’m going to Zenda,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “To Zenda!” I cried, amazed. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Rudolf. “I’m going again to Zenda, Fritz, old fellow. By - heaven, I knew it would come, and now it has come!” - </p> - <p> - “But to do what?” - </p> - <p> - “I shall overtake Rischenheim or be hot on his heels. If he gets there - first, Sapt will keep him waiting till I come; and if I come, he shall - never see the king. Yes, if I come in time—” He broke into a sudden - laugh. “What!” he cried, “have I lost my likeness? Can’t I still play the - king? Yes, if I come in time, Rischenheim shall have his audience of the - king of Zenda, and the king will be very gracious to him, and the king - will take his copy of the letter from him! Oh, Rischenheim shall have an - audience of King Rudolf in the castle of Zenda, never fear!” - </p> - <p> - He stood, looking to see how I received his plan; but amazed at the - boldness of it, I could only lie back and gasp. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf’s excitement left him as suddenly as it had come; he was again the - cool, shrewd, nonchalant Englishman, as, lighting another cigarette, he - proceeded: - </p> - <p> - “You see, there are two of them, Rupert and Rischenheim. Now you can’t - move for a day or two, that’s certain. But there must be two of us there - in Ruritania. Rischenheim is to try first; but if he fails, Rupert will - risk everything and break through to the king’s presence. Give him five - minutes with the king, and the mischief’s done! Very well, then; Sapt must - keep Rupert at bay while I tackle Rischenheim. As soon as you can move, go - to Strelsau, and let Sapt know where you are.” - </p> - <p> - “But if you’re seen, if you’re found out?” - </p> - <p> - “Better I than the queen’s letter,” said he. Then he laid his hand on my - arm and said, quite quietly, “If the letter gets to the king, I and I only - can do what must be done.” - </p> - <p> - I did not know what he meant; perhaps it was that he would carry off the - queen sooner than leave her alone after her letter was known; but there - was another possible meaning that I, a loyal subject, dared not inquire - into. Yet I made no answer, for I was above all and first of all the - queen’s servant. Still I cannot believe that he meant harm to the king. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Fritz,” he cried, “don’t look so glum. This is not so great an - affair as the other, and we brought that through safe.” I suppose I still - looked doubtful, for he added, with a sort of impatience, “Well, I’m - going, anyhow. Heavens, man, am I to sit here while that letter is carried - to the king?” - </p> - <p> - I understood his feeling, and knew that he held life a light thing - compared with the recovery of Queen Flavia’s letter. I ceased to urge him. - When I assented to his wishes, every shadow vanished from his face, and he - began to discuss the details of the plan with business-like brevity. - </p> - <p> - “I shall leave James with you,” said Rudolf. “He’ll be very useful, and - you can rely on him absolutely. Any message that you dare trust to no - other conveyance, give to him; he’ll carry it. He can shoot, too.” He rose - as he spoke. “I’ll look in before I start,” he added, “and hear what the - doctor says about you.” - </p> - <p> - I lay there, thinking, as men sick and weary in body will, of the dangers - and the desperate nature of the risk, rather than of the hope which its - boldness would have inspired in a healthy, active brain. I distrusted the - rapid inference that Rudolf had drawn from Sapt’s telegram, telling myself - that it was based on too slender a foundation. Well, there I was wrong, - and I am glad now to pay that tribute to his discernment. The first steps - of Rupert’s scheme were laid as Rudolf had conjectured: Rischenheim had - started, even while I lay there, for Zenda, carrying on his person a copy - of the queen’s farewell letter and armed for his enterprise by his right - of audience with the king. So far we were right, then; for the rest we - were in darkness, not knowing or being able even to guess where Rupert - would choose to await the result of the first cast, or what precautions he - had taken against the failure of his envoy. But although in total - obscurity as to his future plans, I traced his past actions, and - subsequent knowledge has shown that I was right. Bauer was the tool; a - couple of florins apiece had hired the fellows who, conceiving that they - were playing a part in some practical joke, had taken all the cabs at the - station. Rupert had reckoned that I should linger looking for my servant - and luggage, and thus miss my last chance of a vehicle. If, however, I had - obtained one, the attack would still have been made, although, of course, - under much greater difficulties. Finally—and of this at the time I - knew nothing—had I evaded them and got safe to port with my cargo, - the plot would have been changed. Rupert’s attention would then have been - diverted from me to Rudolf; counting on love overcoming prudence, he - reckoned that Mr. Rassendyll would not at once destroy what the queen - sent, and had arranged to track his steps from Wintenberg till an - opportunity offered of robbing him of his treasure. The scheme, as I know - it, was full of audacious cunning, and required large resources—the - former Rupert himself supplied; for the second he was indebted to his - cousin and slave, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - My meditations were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. He hummed - and ha’d over me, but to my surprise asked me no questions as to the cause - of my misfortune, and did not, as I had feared, suggest that his efforts - should be seconded by those of the police. On the contrary, he appeared, - from an unobtrusive hint or two, to be anxious that I should know that his - discretion could be trusted. - </p> - <p> - “You must not think of moving for a couple of days,” he said; “but then, I - think we can get you away without danger and quite quietly.” - </p> - <p> - I thanked him; he promised to look in again; I murmured something about - his fee. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thank you, that is all settled,” he said. “Your friend Herr Schmidt - has seen to it, and, my dear sir, most liberally.” - </p> - <p> - He was hardly gone when ‘my friend Herr Schmidt’—alias Rudolf - Rassendyll—was back. He laughed a little when I told him how - discreet the doctor had been. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” he explained, “he thinks you’ve been very indiscreet. I was - obliged, my dear Fritz, to take some liberties with your character. - However, it’s odds against the matter coming to your wife’s ears.” - </p> - <p> - “But couldn’t we have laid the others by the heels?” - </p> - <p> - “With the letter on Rupert? My dear fellow, you’re very ill.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed at myself, and forgave Rudolf his trick, though I think that he - might have made my fictitious inamorata something more than a baker’s - wife. It would have cost no more to make her a countess, and the doctor - would have looked with more respect on me. However, Rudolf had said that - the baker broke my head with his rolling-pin, and thus the story rests in - the doctor’s mind to this day. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’m off,” said Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “But where?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, to that same little station where two good friends parted from me - once before. Fritz, where’s Rupert gone?” - </p> - <p> - “I wish we knew.” - </p> - <p> - “I lay he won’t be far off.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you armed?” - </p> - <p> - “The six-shooter. Well, yes, since you press me, a knife, too; but only if - he uses one. You’ll let Sapt know when you come?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; and I come the moment I can stand?” - </p> - <p> - “As if you need tell me that, old fellow!” - </p> - <p> - “Where do you go from the station?” - </p> - <p> - “To Zenda, through the forest,” he answered. “I shall reach the station - about nine to-morrow night, Thursday. Unless Rischenheim has got the - audience sooner than was arranged, I shall be in time.” - </p> - <p> - “How will you get hold of Sapt?” - </p> - <p> - “We must leave something to the minute.” - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - “The king sha’n’t have the letter, Fritz.” - </p> - <p> - There was a moment’s silence as we shook hands. Then that soft yet bright - look came in his eyes again. He looked down at me, and caught me regarding - him with a smile that I know was not unkind. - </p> - <p> - “I never thought I should see her again,” he said. “I think I shall now, - Fritz. To have a turn with that boy and to see her again—it’s worth - something.” - </p> - <p> - “How will you see her?” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf laughed, and I laughed too. He caught my hand again. I think that - he was anxious to infect me with his gayety and confidence. But I could - not answer to the appeal of his eyes. There was a motive in him that found - no place in me—a great longing, the prospect or hope of whose sudden - fulfilment dwarfed danger and banished despair. He saw that I detected its - presence in him and perceived how it filled his mind. - </p> - <p> - “But the letter comes before all,” said he. “I expected to die without - seeing her; I will die without seeing her, if I must, to save the letter.” - </p> - <p> - “I know you will,” said I. - </p> - <p> - He pressed my hand again. As he turned away, James came with his - noiseless, quick step into the room. - </p> - <p> - “The carriage is at the door, sir,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Look after the count, James,” said Rudolf. “Don’t leave him till he sends - you away.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I raised myself in bed. - </p> - <p> - “Here’s luck,” I cried, catching up the lemonade James had brought me, and - taking a gulp of it. - </p> - <p> - “Please God,” said Rudolf, with a shrug. - </p> - <p> - And he was gone to his work and his reward—to save the queen’s - letter and to see the queen’s face. Thus he went a second time to Zenda. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. AN EDDY ON THE MOAT - </h2> - <p> - On the evening of Thursday, the sixteenth of October, the Constable of - Zenda was very much out of humor; he has since confessed as much. To risk - the peace of a palace for the sake of a lover’s greeting had never been - wisdom to his mind, and he had been sorely impatient with “that fool - Fritz’s” yearly pilgrimage. The letter of farewell had been an added - folly, pregnant with chances of disaster. Now disaster, or the danger of - it, had come. The curt, mysterious telegram from Wintenberg, which told - him so little, at least told him that. It ordered him—and he did not - know even whose the order was—to delay Rischenheim’s audience, or, - if he could not, to get the king away from Zenda: why he was to act thus - was not disclosed to him. But he knew as well as I that Rischenheim was - completely in Rupert’s hands, and he could not fail to guess that - something had gone wrong at Wintenberg, and that Rischenheim came to tell - the king some news that the king must not hear. His task sounded simple, - but it was not easy; for he did not know where Rischenheim was, and so - could not prevent his coming; besides, the king had been very pleased to - learn of the count’s approaching visit, since he desired to talk with him - on the subject of a certain breed of dogs, which the count bred with - great, his Majesty with only indifferent success; therefore he had - declared that nothing should interfere with his reception of Rischenheim. - In vain Sapt told him that a large boar had been seen in the forest, and - that a fine day’s sport might be expected if he would hunt next day. “I - shouldn’t be back in time to see Rischenheim,” said the king. - </p> - <p> - “Your Majesty would be back by nightfall,” suggested Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “I should be too tired to talk to him, and I’ve a great deal to discuss.” - </p> - <p> - “You could sleep at the hunting-lodge, sire, and ride back to receive the - count next morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m anxious to see him as soon as may be.” Then he looked up at Sapt with - a sick man’s quick suspicion. “Why shouldn’t I see him?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a pity to miss the boar, sire,” was all Sapt’s plea. The king made - light of it. - </p> - <p> - “Curse the boar!” said he. “I want to know how he gets the dogs’ coats so - fine.” - </p> - <p> - As the king spoke a servant entered, carrying a telegram for Sapt. The - colonel took it and put it in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Read it,” said the king. He had dined and was about to go to bed, it - being nearly ten o’clock. - </p> - <p> - “It will keep, sire,” answered Sapt, who did not know but that it might be - from Wintenberg. - </p> - <p> - “Read it,” insisted the king testily. “It may be from Rischenheim. Perhaps - he can get here sooner. I should like to know about those dogs. Read it, I - beg.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt could do nothing but read it. He had taken to spectacles lately, and - he spent a long while adjusting them and thinking what he should do if the - message were not fit for the king’s ear. “Be quick, man, be quick!” urged - the irritable king. - </p> - <p> - Sapt had got the envelope open at last, and relief, mingled with - perplexity, showed in his face. - </p> - <p> - “Your Majesty guessed wonderfully well. Rischenheim can be here at eight - to-morrow morning,” he said, looking up. - </p> - <p> - “Capital!” cried the king. “He shall breakfast with me at nine, and I’ll - have a ride after the boar when we’ve done our business. Now are you - satisfied?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, sire,” said Sapt, biting his moustache. - </p> - <p> - The king rose with a yawn, and bade the colonel good-night. “He must have - some trick I don’t know with those dogs,” he remarked, as he went out. And - “Damn the dogs!” cried Colonel Sapt the moment that the door was shut - behind his Majesty. - </p> - <p> - But the colonel was not a man to accept defeat easily. The audience that - he had been instructed to postpone was advanced; the king, whom he had - been told to get away from Zenda, would not go till he had seen - Rischenheim. Still there are many ways of preventing a meeting. Some are - by fraud; these it is no injustice to Sapt to say that he had tried; some - are by force, and the colonel was being driven to the conclusion that one - of these must be his resort. - </p> - <p> - “Though the king,” he mused, with a grin, “will be furious if anything - happens to Rischenheim before he’s told him about the dogs.” - </p> - <p> - Yet he fell to racking his brains to find a means by which the count might - be rendered incapable of performing the service so desired by the king and - of carrying out his own purpose in seeking an audience. Nothing save - assassination suggested itself to the constable; a quarrel and a duel - offered no security; and Sapt was not Black Michael, and had no band of - ruffians to join him in an apparently unprovoked kidnapping of a - distinguished nobleman. - </p> - <p> - “I can think of nothing,” muttered Sapt, rising from his chair and moving - across towards the window in search of the fresh air that a man so often - thinks will give him a fresh idea. He was in his own quarters, that room - of the new chateau which opens on to the moat immediately to the right of - the drawbridge as you face the old castle; it was the room which Duke - Michael had occupied, and almost opposite to the spot where the great pipe - had connected the window of the king’s dungeon with the waters of the - moat. The bridge was down now, for peaceful days had come to Zenda; the - pipe was gone, and the dungeon’s window, though still barred, was - uncovered. The night was clear and fine, and the still water gleamed - fitfully as the moon, half-full, escaped from or was hidden by passing - clouds. Sapt stood staring out gloomily, beating his knuckles on the stone - sill. The fresh air was there, but the fresh idea tarried. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly the constable bent forward, craning his head out and down, far as - he could stretch it, towards the water. What he had seen, or seemed dimly - to see, is a sight common enough on the surface of water—large - circular eddies, widening from a centre; a stone thrown in makes them, or - a fish on the rise. But Sapt had thrown no stone, and the fish in the moat - were few and not rising then. The light was behind Sapt, and threw his - figure into bold relief. The royal apartments looked out the other way; - there were no lights in the windows this side the bridge, although beyond - it the guards’ lodgings and the servants’ offices still showed a light - here and there. Sapt waited till the eddies ceased. Then he heard the - faintest sound, as of a large body let very gently into the water; a - moment later, from the moat right below him, a man’s head emerged. - </p> - <p> - “Sapt!” said a voice, low but distinct. - </p> - <p> - The old colonel started, and, resting both hands on the sill, bent further - out, till he seemed in danger of overbalancing. - </p> - <p> - “Quick—to the ledge on the other side. You know,” said the voice, - and the head turned; with quick, quiet strokes the man crossed the moat - till he was hidden in the triangle of deep shade formed by the meeting of - the drawbridge and the old castle wall. Sapt watched him go, almost - stupefied by the sudden wonder of hearing that voice come to him out of - the stillness of the night. For the king was abed; and who spoke in that - voice save the king and one other? - </p> - <p> - Then, with a curse at himself for his delay, he turned and walked quickly - across the room. Opening the door, he found himself in the passage. But - here he ran right into the arms of young Bernenstein, the officer of the - guard, who was going his rounds. Sapt knew and trusted him, for he had - been with us all through the siege of Zenda, when Michael kept the king a - prisoner, and he bore marks given him by Rupert of Hentzau’s ruffians. He - now held a commission as lieutenant in the cuirassiers of the King’s - Guard. - </p> - <p> - He noticed Sapt’s bearing, for he cried out in a low voice, “Anything - wrong, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Bernenstein, my boy, the castle’s all right about here. Go round to the - front, and, hang you, stay there,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - The officer stared, as well he might. Sapt caught him by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “No, stay here. See, stand by the door there that leads to the royal - apartments. Stand there, and let nobody pass. You understand?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And whatever you hear, don’t look round.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein’s bewilderment grew greater; but Sapt was constable, and on - Sapt’s shoulders lay the responsibility for the safety of Zenda and all in - it. - </p> - <p> - “Very well, sir,” he said, with a submissive shrug, and he drew his sword - and stood by the door; he could obey, although he could not understand. - </p> - <p> - Sapt ran on. Opening the gate that led to the bridge, he sped across. - Then, stepping on one side and turning his face to the wall, he descended - the steps that gave foothold down to the ledge running six or eight inches - above the water. He also was now in the triangle of deep darkness, yet he - knew that a man was there, who stood straight and tall, rising above his - own height. And he felt his hand caught in a sudden grip. Rudolf - Rassendyll was there, in his wet drawers and socks. - </p> - <p> - “Is it you?” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” answered Rudolf; “I swam round from the other side and got here. - Then I threw in a bit of mortar, but I wasn’t sure I’d roused you, and I - didn’t dare shout, so I followed it myself. Lay hold of me a minute while - I get on my breeches: I didn’t want to get wet, so I carried my clothes in - a bundle. Hold me tight, it’s slippery.” - </p> - <p> - “In God’s name what brings you here?” whispered Sapt, catching Rudolf by - the arm as he was directed. - </p> - <p> - “The queen’s service. When does Rischenheim come?” - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow at eight.” - </p> - <p> - “The deuce! That’s earlier than I thought. And the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Is here and determined to see him. It’s impossible to move him from it.” - </p> - <p> - There was a moment’s silence; Rudolf drew his shirt over his head and - tucked it into his trousers. “Give me the jacket and waistcoat,” he said. - “I feel deuced damp underneath, though.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll soon get dry,” grinned Sapt. “You’ll be kept moving, you see.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve lost my hat.” - </p> - <p> - “Seems to me you’ve lost your head too.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll find me both, eh, Sapt?” - </p> - <p> - “As good as your own, anyhow,” growled the constable. - </p> - <p> - “Now the boots, and I’m ready.” Then he asked quickly, “Has the king seen - or heard from Rischenheim?” - </p> - <p> - “Neither, except through me.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why is he so set on seeing him?” - </p> - <p> - “To find out what gives dogs smooth coats.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re serious? Hang you, I can’t see your face.” - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely.” - </p> - <p> - “All’s well, then. Has he got a beard now?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Confound him! Can’t you take me anywhere to talk?” - </p> - <p> - “What the deuce are you here at all for?” - </p> - <p> - “To meet Rischenheim.” - </p> - <p> - “To meet—?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Sapt, he’s got a copy of the queen’s letter.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt twirled his moustache. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve always said as much,” he remarked in tones of satisfaction. He need - not have said it; he would have been more than human not to think it. - </p> - <p> - “Where can you take me to?” asked Rudolf impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Any room with a door and a lock to it,” answered old Sapt. “I command - here, and when I say ‘Stay out’—well, they don’t come in.” - </p> - <p> - “Not the king?” - </p> - <p> - “The king is in bed. Come along,” and the constable set his toe on the - lowest step. - </p> - <p> - “Is there nobody about?” asked Rudolf, catching his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Bernenstein; but he will keep his back toward us.” - </p> - <p> - “Your discipline is still good, then, Colonel?” - </p> - <p> - “Pretty well for these days, your Majesty,” grunted Sapt, as he reached - the level of the bridge. - </p> - <p> - Having crossed, they entered the chateau. The passage was empty, save for - Bernenstein, whose broad back barred the way from the royal apartments. - </p> - <p> - “In here,” whispered Sapt, laying his hand on the door of the room whence - he had come. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” answered Rudolf. Bernenstein’s hand twitched, but he did not - look round. There was discipline in the castle of Zenda. - </p> - <p> - But as Sapt was half-way through the door and Rudolf about to follow him, - the other door, that which Bernenstein guarded, was softly yet swiftly - opened. Bernenstein’s sword was in rest in an instant. A muttered oath - from Sapt and Rudolf’s quick snatch at his breath greeted the - interruption. Bernenstein did not look round, but his sword fell to his - side. In the doorway stood Queen Flavia, all in white; and now her face - turned white as her dress. For her eyes had fallen on Rudolf Rassendyll. - For a moment the four stood thus; then Rudolf passed Sapt, thrust - Bernenstein’s brawny shoulders (the young man had not looked round) out of - the way, and, falling on his knee before the queen, seized her hand and - kissed it. Bernenstein could see now without looking round, and if - astonishment could kill, he would have been a dead man that instant. He - fairly reeled and leant against the wall, his mouth hanging open. For the - king was in bed, and had a beard; yet there was the king, fully dressed - and clean shaven, and he was kissing the queen’s hand, while she gazed - down on him in a struggle between amazement, fright, and joy. A soldier - should be prepared for anything, but I cannot be hard on young - Bernenstein’s bewilderment. - </p> - <p> - Yet there was in truth nothing strange in the queen seeking to see old - Sapt that night, nor in her guessing where he would most probably be - found. For she had asked him three times whether news had come from - Wintenberg and each time he had put her off with excuses. Quick to forbode - evil, and conscious of the pledge to fortune that she had given in her - letter, she had determined to know from him whether there were really - cause for alarm, and had stolen, undetected, from her apartments to seek - him. What filled her at once with unbearable apprehension and incredulous - joy was to find Rudolf present in actual flesh and blood, no longer in sad - longing dreams or visions, and to feel his live lips on her hand. - </p> - <p> - Lovers count neither time nor danger; but Sapt counted both, and no more - than a moment had passed before, with eager imperative gestures, he - beckoned them to enter the room. The queen obeyed, and Rudolf followed - her. - </p> - <p> - “Let nobody in, and don’t say a word to anybody,” whispered Sapt, as he - entered, leaving Bernenstein outside. The young man was half-dazed still, - but he had sense to read the expression in the constable’s eyes and to - learn from it that he must give his life sooner than let the door be - opened. So with drawn sword he stood on guard. - </p> - <p> - It was eleven o’clock when the queen came, and midnight had struck from - the great clock of the castle before the door opened again and Sapt came - out. His sword was not drawn, but he had his revolver in his hand. He shut - the door silently after him and began at once to talk in low, earnest, - quick tones to Bernenstein. Bernenstein listened intently and without - interrupting. Sapt’s story ran on for eight or nine minutes. Then he - paused, before asking: - </p> - <p> - “You understand now?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is wonderful,” said the young man, drawing in his breath. - </p> - <p> - “Pooh!” said Sapt. “Nothing is wonderful: some things are unusual.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein was not convinced, and shrugged his shoulders in protest. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said the constable, with a quick glance at him. - </p> - <p> - “I would die for the queen, sir,” he answered, clicking his heels together - as though on parade. - </p> - <p> - “Good,” said Sapt. “Then listen,” and he began again to talk. Bernenstein - nodded from time to time. “You’ll meet him at the gate,” said the - constable, “and bring him straight here. He’s not to go anywhere else, you - understand me?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, Colonel,” smiled young Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “The king will be in this room—the king. You know who is the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, Colonel.” - </p> - <p> - “And when the interview is ended, and we go to breakfast—” - </p> - <p> - “I know who will be the king then. Yes, Colonel.” - </p> - <p> - “Good. But we do him no harm unless—” - </p> - <p> - “It is necessary.” - </p> - <p> - “Precisely.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt turned away with a little sigh. Bernenstein was an apt pupil, but the - colonel was exhausted by so much explanation. He knocked softly at the - door of the room. The queen’s voice bade him enter, and he passed in. - Bernenstein was left alone again in the passage, pondering over what he - had heard and rehearsing the part that it now fell to him to play. As he - thought he may well have raised his head proudly. The service seemed so - great and the honor so high, that he almost wished he could die in the - performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his soldier’s - dreams had dared to picture. - </p> - <p> - At one o’clock Colonel Sapt came out. “Go to bed till six,” said he to - Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not sleepy.” - </p> - <p> - “No, but you will be at eight if you don’t sleep now.” - </p> - <p> - “Is the queen coming out, Colonel?” - </p> - <p> - “In a minute, Lieutenant.” - </p> - <p> - “I should like to kiss her hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!” said Sapt, - with a slight smile. - </p> - <p> - “You said a minute, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “So did she,” answered the constable. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll opened - the door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was very pale, and - she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and her air firm. The moment - he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on his knee and raised her hand to his - lips. - </p> - <p> - “To the death, madame,” said he, in a trembling voice. - </p> - <p> - “I knew it, sir,” she answered graciously. Then she looked round on the - three of them. “Gentlemen,” said she, “my servants and dear friends, with - you, and with Fritz who lies wounded in Wintenberg, rest my honor and my - life; for I will not live if the letter reaches the king.” - </p> - <p> - “The king shall not have it, madame,” said Colonel Sapt. He took her hand - in his and patted it with a clumsy gentleness; smiling, she extended it - again to young Bernenstein, in mark of her favor. They two then stood at - the salute, while Rudolf walked with her to the end of the passage. There - for a moment she and he stood together; the others turned their eyes away - and thus did not see her suddenly stoop and cover his hand with her - kisses. He tried to draw it away, not thinking it fit that she should kiss - his hand, but she seemed as though she could not let it go. Yet at last, - still with her eyes on his, she passed backwards through the door, and he - shut it after her. - </p> - <p> - “Now to business,” said Colonel Sapt dryly; and Rudolf laughed a little. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf passed into the room. Sapt went to the king’s apartments, and asked - the physician whether his Majesty were sleeping well. Receiving reassuring - news of the royal slumbers, he proceeded to the quarters of the king’s - body-servant, knocked up the sleepy wretch, and ordered breakfast for the - king and the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim at nine o’clock precisely, in the - morning-room that looked out over the avenue leading to the entrance to - the new chateau. This done, he returned to the room where Rudolf was, - carried a chair into the passage, bade Rudolf lock the door, sat down, - revolver in hand, and himself went to sleep. Young Bernenstein was in bed - just now, taken faint, and the constable himself was acting as his - substitute; that was to be the story, if a story were needed. Thus the - hours from two to six passed that morning in the castle of Zenda. - </p> - <p> - At six the constable awoke and knocked at the door; Rudolf Rassendyll - opened it. - </p> - <p> - “Slept well?” asked Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Not a wink,” answered Rudolf cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you had more nerve.” - </p> - <p> - “It wasn’t want of nerve that kept me awake,” said Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - Sapt, with a pitying shrug, looked round. The curtains of the window were - half-drawn. The table was moved near to the wall, and the arm-chair by it - was well in shadow, being quite close to the curtains. - </p> - <p> - “There’s plenty of room for you behind,” said Rudolf; “And when - Rischenheim is seated in his chair opposite to mine, you can put your - barrel against his head by just stretching out your hand. And of course I - can do the same.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it looks well enough,” said Sapt, with an approving nod. “What about - the beard?” - </p> - <p> - “Bernenstein is to tell him you’ve shaved this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “Will he believe that?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not? For his own sake he’d better believe everything.” - </p> - <p> - “And if we have to kill him?” - </p> - <p> - “We must run for it. The king would be furious.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s fond of him?” - </p> - <p> - “You forget. He wants to know about the dogs.” - </p> - <p> - “True. You’ll be in your place in time?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf Rassendyll took a turn up and down the room. It was easy to see - that the events of the night had disturbed him. Sapt’s thoughts were - running in a different channel. - </p> - <p> - “When we’ve done with this fellow, we must find Rupert,” said he. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf started. - </p> - <p> - “Rupert? Rupert? True; I forgot. Of course we must,” said he confusedly. - </p> - <p> - Sapt looked scornful; he knew that his companion’s mind had been occupied - with the queen. But his remarks—if he had meditated any—were - interrupted by the clock striking seven. - </p> - <p> - “He’ll be here in an hour,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “We’re ready for him,” answered Rudolf Rassendyll. With the thought of - action his eyes grew bright and his brow smooth again. He and old Sapt - looked at one another, and they both smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Like old times, isn’t it, Sapt?” - </p> - <p> - “Aye, sire, like the reign of good King Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - Thus they made ready for the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim, while my cursed - wound held me a prisoner at Wintenberg. It is still a sorrow to me that I - know what passed that morning only by report, and had not the honor of - bearing a part in it. Still, her Majesty did not forget me, but remembered - that I would have taken my share, had fortune allowed. Indeed I would most - eagerly. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. AN AUDIENCE OF THE KING - </h2> - <p> - Having come thus far in the story that I set out to tell, I have half a - mind to lay down my pen, and leave untold how from the moment that Mr. - Rassendyll came again to Zenda a fury of chance seemed to catch us all in - a whirlwind, carrying us whither we would not, and ever driving us onwards - to fresh enterprises, breathing into us a recklessness that stood at no - obstacle, and a devotion to the queen and to the man she loved that swept - away all other feeling. The ancients held there to be a fate which would - have its fill, though women wept and men died, and none could tell whose - was the guilt nor who fell innocent. Thus did they blindly wrong God’s - providence. Yet, save that we are taught to believe that all is ruled, we - are as blind as they, and are still left wondering why all that is true - and generous and love’s own fruit must turn so often to woe and shame, - exacting tears and blood. For myself I would leave the thing untold, lest - a word of it should seem to stain her whom I serve; it is by her own - command I write, that all may one day, in time’s fullness, be truly known, - and those condemn who are without sin, while they pity whose own hearts - have fought the equal fight. So much for her and him; for us less needs be - said. It was not ours to weigh her actions; we served her; him we had - served. She was our queen; we bore Heaven a grudge that he was not our - king. The worst of what befell was not of our own planning, no, nor of our - hoping. It came a thunderbolt from the hand of Rupert, flung carelessly - between a curse and a laugh; its coming entangled us more tightly in the - net of circumstances. Then there arose in us that strange and overpowering - desire of which I must tell later, filling us with a zeal to accomplish - our purpose, and to force Mr. Rassendyll himself into the way we chose. - Led by this star, we pressed on through the darkness, until at length the - deeper darkness fell that stayed our steps. We also stand for judgment, - even as she and he. So I will write; but I will write plainly and briefly, - setting down what I must, and no more, yet seeking to give truly the - picture of that time, and to preserve as long as may be the portrait of - the man whose like I have not known. Yet the fear is always upon me that, - failing to show him as he was, I may fail also in gaining an understanding - of how he wrought on us, one and all, till his cause became in all things - the right, and to seat him where he should be our highest duty and our - nearest wish. For he said little, and that straight to the purpose; no - high-flown words of his live in my memory. And he asked nothing for - himself. Yet his speech and his eyes went straight to men’s hearts and - women’s, so that they held their lives in an eager attendance on his - bidding. Do I rave? Then Sapt was a raver too, for Sapt was foremost in - the business. - </p> - <p> - At ten minutes to eight o’clock, young Bernenstein, very admirably and - smartly accoutred, took his stand outside the main entrance of the castle. - He wore a confident air that became almost a swagger as he strolled to and - fro past the motionless sentries. He had not long to wait. On the stroke - of eight a gentleman, well-horsed but entirely unattended, rode up the - carriage drive. Bernenstein, crying “Ah, it is the count!” ran to meet - him. Rischenheim dismounted, holding out his hand to the young officer. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Bernenstein!” said he, for they were acquainted with one another. - </p> - <p> - “You’re punctual, my dear Rischenheim, and it’s lucky, for the king awaits - you most impatiently.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t expect to find him up so soon,” remarked Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - “Up! He’s been up these two hours. Indeed we’ve had the devil of a time of - it. Treat him carefully, my dear Count; he’s in one of his troublesome - humors. For example—but I mustn’t keep you waiting. Pray follow me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, but pray tell me. Otherwise I might say something unfortunate.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he woke at six; and when the barber came to trim his beard there - were—imagine it, Count!—no less than seven gray hairs.” The - king fell into a passion. “Take it off!” he said. “Take it off. I won’t - have a gray beard! Take it off!’ Well what would you? A man is free to be - shaved if he chooses, so much more a king. So it’s taken off.” - </p> - <p> - “His beard!” - </p> - <p> - “His beard, my dear Count.” Then, after thanking Heaven it was gone, and - declaring he looked ten years younger, he cried, “The Count of - Luzau-Rischenheim breakfasts with me to-day: what is there for breakfast?” - And he had the chef out of his bed and—“But, by heavens, I shall get - into trouble if I stop here chattering. He’s waiting most eagerly for you. - Come along.” And Bernenstein, passing his arm through the count’s, walked - him rapidly into the castle. - </p> - <p> - The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was a young man; he was no more versed in - affairs of this kind than Bernenstein, and it cannot be said that he - showed so much aptitude for them. He was decidedly pale this morning; his - manner was uneasy, and his hands trembled. He did not lack courage, but - that rarer virtue, coolness; and the importance—or perhaps the shame—of - his mission upset the balance of his nerves. Hardly noting where he went, - he allowed Bernenstein to lead him quickly and directly towards the room - where Rudolf Rassendyll was, not doubting that he was being conducted to - the king’s presence. - </p> - <p> - “Breakfast is ordered for nine,” said Bernenstein, “but he wants to see - you before. He has something important to say; and you perhaps have the - same?” - </p> - <p> - “I? Oh, no. A small matter; but—er—of a private nature.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so, quite so. Oh, I don’t ask any questions, my dear Count.” - </p> - <p> - “Shall I find the king alone?” asked Rischenheim nervously. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think you’ll find anybody with him; no, nobody, I think,” - answered Bernenstein, with a grave and reassuring air. - </p> - <p> - They arrived now at the door. Here Bernenstein paused. - </p> - <p> - “I am ordered to wait outside till his Majesty summons me,” he said in a - low voice, as though he feared that the irritable king would hear him. - “I’ll open the door and announce you. Pray keep him in a good temper, for - all our sakes.” And he flung the door open, saying, “Sire, the Count of - Luzau-Rischenheim has the honor to wait on your Majesty.” With this he - shut the door promptly, and stood against it. Nor did he move, save once, - and then only to take out his revolver and carefully inspect it. - </p> - <p> - The count advanced, bowing low, and striving to conceal a visible - agitation. He saw the king in his arm-chair; the king wore a suit of brown - tweeds (none the better for being crushed into a bundle the night before); - his face was in deep shadow, but Rischenheim perceived that the beard was - indeed gone. The king held out his hand to Rischenheim, and motioned him - to sit in a chair just opposite to him and within a foot of the - window-curtains. - </p> - <p> - “I’m delighted to see you, my lord,” said the king. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf’s voice had once been so like the king’s - that no man could tell the difference, but in the last year or two the - king’s had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigor - of the tones in which he was addressed. As he looked up, there was a - slight movement in the curtains by him; it died away when the count gave - no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noticed his surprise: the - voice, when it next spoke, was subdued. - </p> - <p> - “Most delighted,” pursued Mr. Rassendyll. “For I am pestered beyond - endurance about those dogs. I can’t get the coats right, I’ve tried - everything, but they won’t come as I wish. Now, yours are magnificent.” - </p> - <p> - “You are very good, sire. But I ventured to ask an audience in order to—” - </p> - <p> - “Positively you must tell me about the dogs. And before Sapt comes, for I - want nobody to hear but myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Your Majesty expects Colonel Sapt?” - </p> - <p> - “In about twenty minutes,” said the king, with a glance at the clock on - the mantelpiece. - </p> - <p> - At this Rischenheim became all on fire to get his errand done before Sapt - appeared. - </p> - <p> - “The coats of your dogs,” pursued the king, “grow so beautifully—” - </p> - <p> - “A thousand pardons, sire, but—” - </p> - <p> - “Long and silky, that I despair of—” - </p> - <p> - “I have a most urgent and important matter,” persisted Rischenheim in - agony. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf threw himself back in his chair with a peevish air. “Well, if you - must, you must. What is this great affair, Count? Let us have it over, and - then you can tell me about the dogs.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked round the room. There was nobody; the curtains were - still; the king’s left hand caressed his beardless chin; the right was - hidden from his visitor by the small table that stood between them. - </p> - <p> - “Sire, my cousin, the Count of Hentzau, has entrusted me with a message.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf suddenly assumed a stern air. - </p> - <p> - “I can hold no communication, directly or indirectly, with the Count of - Hentzau,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, sire, pardon me. A document has come into the count’s hands - which is of vital importance to your Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Hentzau, my lord, has incurred my heaviest displeasure.” - </p> - <p> - “Sire, it is in the hopes of atoning for his offences that he has sent me - here to-day. There is a conspiracy against your Majesty’s honor.” - </p> - <p> - “By whom, my lord?” asked Rudolf, in cold and doubting tones. - </p> - <p> - “By those who are very near your Majesty’s person and very high in your - Majesty’s love.” - </p> - <p> - “Name them.” - </p> - <p> - “Sire, I dare not. You would not believe me. But your Majesty will believe - written evidence.” - </p> - <p> - “Show it me, and quickly. We may be interrupted.” - </p> - <p> - “Sire, I have a copy—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, a copy, my lord?” sneered Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “My cousin has the original, and will forward it at your Majesty’s - command. A copy of a letter of her Majesty’s—” - </p> - <p> - “Of the queen’s?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sire. It is addressed to—” Rischenheim paused. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my lord, to whom?” - </p> - <p> - “To a Mr. Rudolf Rassendyll.” - </p> - <p> - Now Rudolf played his part well. He did not feign indifference, but - allowed his voice to tremble with emotion as he stretched out his hand and - said in a hoarse whisper, “Give it me, give it me.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim’s eyes sparkled. His shot had told: the king’s attention was - his; the coats of the dogs were forgotten. Plainly he had stirred the - suspicions and jealousy of the king. - </p> - <p> - “My cousin,” he continued, “conceives it his duty to lay the letter before - your Majesty. He obtained it—” - </p> - <p> - “A curse on how he got it! Give it me!” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim unbuttoned his coat, then his waistcoat. The head of a - revolver showed in a belt round his waist. He undid the flap of a pocket - in the lining of his waistcoat, and he began to draw out a sheet of paper. - </p> - <p> - But Rudolf, great as his powers of self-control were, was but human. When - he saw the paper, he leant forward, half rising from his chair. As a - result, his face came beyond the shadow of the curtain, and the full - morning light beat on it. As Rischenheim took the paper out, he looked up. - He saw the face that glared so eagerly at him; his eyes met Rassendyll’s: - a sudden suspicion seized him, for the face, though the king’s face in - every feature, bore a stern resolution and witnessed a vigor that were not - the king’s. In that instant the truth, or a hint of it, flashed across his - mind. He gave a half-articulate cry; in one hand he crumpled up the paper, - the other flew to his revolver. But he was too late. Rudolf’s left hand - encircled his hand and the paper in an iron grip; Rudolf’s revolver was on - his temple; and an arm was stretched out from behind the curtain, holding - another barrel full before his eyes, while a dry voice said, “You’d best - take it quietly.” Then Sapt stepped out. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim had no words to meet the sudden transformation of the - interview. He seemed to be able to do nothing but stare at Rudolf - Rassendyll. Sapt wasted no time. He snatched the count’s revolver and - stowed it in his own pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Now take the paper,” said he to Rudolf, and his barrel held Rischenheim - motionless while Rudolf wrenched the precious document from his fingers. - “Look if it’s the right one. No, don’t read it through; just look. Is it - right? That’s good. Now put your revolver to his head again. I’m going to - search him. Stand up, sir.” - </p> - <p> - They compelled the count to stand up, and Sapt subjected him to a search - that made the concealment of another copy, or of any other document, - impossible. Then they let him sit down again. His eyes seemed fascinated - by Rudolf Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “Yet you’ve seen me before, I think,” smiled Rudolf. “I seem to remember - you as a boy in Strelsau when I was there. Now tell us, sir, where did you - leave this cousin of yours?” For the plan was to find out from Rischenheim - where Rupert was, and to set off in pursuit of Rupert as soon as they had - disposed of Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - But even as Rudolf spoke there was a violent knock at the door. Rudolf - sprang to open it. Sapt and his revolver kept their places. Bernenstein - was on the threshold, open-mouthed. - </p> - <p> - “The king’s servant has just gone by. He’s looking for Colonel Sapt. The - King has been walking in the drive, and learnt from a sentry of - Rischenheim’s arrival. I told the man that you had taken the count for a - stroll round the castle, and I did not know where you were. He says that - the king may come himself at any moment.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt considered for one short instant; then he was back by the prisoner’s - side. - </p> - <p> - “We must talk again later on,” he said, in low quick tones. “Now you’re - going to breakfast with the king. I shall be there, and Bernenstein. - Remember, not a word of your errand, not a word of this gentleman! At a - word, a sign, a hint, a gesture, a motion, as God lives, I’ll put a bullet - through your head, and a thousand kings sha’n’t stop me. Rudolf, get - behind the curtain. If there’s an alarm you must jump through the window - into the moat and swim for it.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Rudolf Rassendyll. “I can read my letter there.” - </p> - <p> - “Burn it, you fool.” - </p> - <p> - “When I’ve read it I’ll eat it, if you like, but not before.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein looked in again. “Quick, quick! The man will be back,” he - whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Bernenstein, did you hear what I said to the count?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I heard.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you know your part. Now, gentlemen, to the king.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said an angry voice outside, “I wondered how long I was to be kept - waiting.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf Rassendyll skipped behind the curtain. Sapt’s revolver slipped into - a handy pocket. Rischenheim stood with arms dangling by his side and his - waistcoat half unbuttoned. Young Bernenstein was bowing low on the - threshold, and protesting that the king’s servant had but just gone, and - that they were on the point of waiting on his Majesty. Then the king - walked in, pale and full-bearded. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Count,” said he, “I’m glad to see you. If they had told me you were - here, you shouldn’t have waited a minute. You’re very dark in here, Sapt. - Why don’t you draw back the curtains?” and the king moved towards the - curtain behind which Rudolf was. - </p> - <p> - “Allow me, sire,” cried Sapt, darting past him and laying a hand on the - curtain. - </p> - <p> - A malicious gleam of pleasure shot into Rischenheim’s eyes. “In truth, - sire,” continued the constable, his hand on the curtain, “we were so - interested in what the count was saying about his dogs—” - </p> - <p> - “By heaven, I forgot!” cried the king. “Yes, yes, the dogs. Now tell me, - Count—” - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, sire,” put in young Bernenstein, “but breakfast waits.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes. Well, then, we’ll have them together—breakfast and the - dogs. Come along, Count.” The king passed his arm through Rischenheim’s, - adding to Bernenstein, “Lead the way, Lieutenant; and you, Colonel, come - with us.” - </p> - <p> - They went out. Sapt stopped and locked the door behind him. “Why do you - lock the door, Colonel?” asked the king. - </p> - <p> - “There are some papers in my drawer there, sire.” - </p> - <p> - “But why not lock the drawer? - </p> - <p> - “I have lost the key, sire, like the fool I am,” said the colonel. - </p> - <p> - The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim did not make a very good breakfast. He sat - opposite to the king. Colonel Sapt placed himself at the back of the - king’s chair, and Rischenheim saw the muzzle of a revolver resting on the - top of the chair just behind his Majesty’s right ear. Bernenstein stood in - soldierly rigidity by the door; Rischenheim looked round at him once and - met a most significant gaze. - </p> - <p> - “You’re eating nothing,” said the king. “I hope you’re not indisposed?” - </p> - <p> - “I am a little upset, sire,” stammered Rischenheim, and truly enough. - </p> - <p> - “Well, tell me about the dogs—while I eat, for I’m hungry.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim began to disclose his secret. His statement was decidedly - wanting in clearness. The king grew impatient. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t understand,” said he testily, and he pushed his chair back so - quickly that Sapt skipped away, and hid the revolver behind his back. - </p> - <p> - “Sire—” cried Rischenheim, half rising. A cough from Lieutenant von - Bernenstein interrupted him. - </p> - <p> - “Tell it me all over again,” said the king. Rischenheim did as he was bid. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I understand a little better now. Do you see, Sapt?” and he turned - his head round towards the constable. Sapt had just time to whisk the - revolver away. The count lent forward towards the king. Lieutenant von - Bernenstein coughed. The count sank back again. - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, sire,” said Colonel Sapt. “I understand all the count wishes - to convey to your Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I understand about half,” said the king with a laugh. “But perhaps - that’ll be enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I think quite enough, sire,” answered Sapt with a smile. The important - matter of the dogs being thus disposed of, the king recollected that the - count had asked for an audience on a matter of business. - </p> - <p> - “Now, what did you wish to say to me?” he asked, with a weary air. The - dogs had been more interesting. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked at Sapt. The revolver was in its place; Bernenstein - coughed again. Yet he saw a chance. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, sire,” said he, “but we are not alone.” - </p> - <p> - The king lifted his eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - “Is the business so private?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I should prefer to tell it to your Majesty alone,” pleaded the count. - </p> - <p> - Now Sapt was resolved not to leave Rischenheim alone with the king, for, - although the count, being robbed of his evidence could do little harm - concerning the letter, he would doubtless tell the king that Rudolf - Rassendyll was in the castle. He leant now over the king’s shoulder, and - said with a sneer: - </p> - <p> - “Messages from Rupert of Hentzau are too exalted matters for my poor ears, - it seems.” - </p> - <p> - The king flushed red. - </p> - <p> - “Is that your business, my lord?” he asked Rischenheim sternly. - </p> - <p> - “Your Majesty does not know what my cousin—” - </p> - <p> - “It is the old plea?” interrupted the king. “He wants to come back? Is - that all, or is there anything else?” - </p> - <p> - A moment’s silence followed the king’s words. Sapt looked full at - Rischenheim, and smiled as he slightly raised his right hand and showed - the revolver. Bernenstein coughed twice. Rischenheim sat twisting his - fingers. He understood that, cost what it might, they would not let him - declare his errand to the king or betray Mr. Rassendyll’s presence. He - cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to speak, but still he - remained silent. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my lord, is it the old story or something new,” asked the king - impatiently. - </p> - <p> - Again Rischenheim sat silent. - </p> - <p> - “Are you dumb, my lord?” cried the king most impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “It—it is only what you call the old story, sire.” - </p> - <p> - “Then let me say that you have treated me very badly in obtaining an - audience of me for any such purpose,” said the king. “You knew my - decision, and your cousin knows it.” Thus speaking, the king rose; Sapt’s - revolver slid into his pocket; but Lieutenant von Bernenstein drew his - sword and stood at the salute; he also coughed. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Rischenheim,” pursued the king more kindly, “I can allow for your - natural affection. But, believe me, in this case it misleads you. Do me - the favor not to open this subject again to me.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim, humiliated and angry, could do nothing but bow in - acknowledgment of the king’s rebuke. - </p> - <p> - “Colonel Sapt, see that the count is well entertained. My horse should be - at the door by now. Farewell, Count. Bernenstein, give me your arm.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein shot a rapid glance at the constable. Sapt nodded - reassuringly. Bernenstein sheathed his sword and gave his arm to the king. - They passed through the door, and Bernenstein closed it with a backward - push of his hand. But at this moment Rischenheim, goaded to fury and - desperate at the trick played on him—seeing, moreover, that he had - now only one man to deal with—made a sudden rush at the door. He - reached it, and his hand was on the door-knob. But Sapt was upon him, and - Sapt’s revolver was at his ear. - </p> - <p> - In the passage the king stopped. - </p> - <p> - “What are they doing in there?” he asked, hearing the noise of the quick - movements. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know, sire,” said Bernenstein, and he took a step forward. - </p> - <p> - “No, stop a minute, Lieutenant; you’re pulling me along!” - </p> - <p> - “A thousand pardons, sire.” - </p> - <p> - “I hear nothing more now.” And there was nothing to hear, for the two now - stood dead silent inside the door. - </p> - <p> - “Nor I, sire. Will your Majesty go on?” And Bernenstein took another step. - </p> - <p> - “You’re determined I shall,” said the king with a laugh, and he let the - young officer lead him away. - </p> - <p> - Inside the room, Rischenheim stood with his back against the door. He was - panting for breath, and his face was flushed and working with excitement. - Opposite to him stood Sapt, revolver in hand. - </p> - <p> - “Till you get to heaven, my lord,” said the constable, “you’ll never be - nearer to it than you were in that moment. If you had opened the door, I’d - have shot you through the head.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke there came a knock at the door. - </p> - <p> - “Open it,” he said brusquely to Rischenheim. With a muttered curse the - count obeyed him. A servant stood outside with a telegram on a salver. - </p> - <p> - “Take it,” whispered Sapt, and Rischenheim put out his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, my lord, but this has arrived for you,” said the man - respectfully. - </p> - <p> - “Take it,” whispered Sapt again. - </p> - <p> - “Give it me,” muttered Rischenheim confusedly; and he took the envelope. - </p> - <p> - The servant bowed and shut the door. - </p> - <p> - “Open it,” commanded Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “God’s curse on you!” cried Rischenheim in a voice that choked with - passion. - </p> - <p> - “Eh? Oh, you can have no secrets from so good a friend as I am, my lord. - Be quick and open it.” - </p> - <p> - The count began to open it. - </p> - <p> - “If you tear it up, or crumple it, I’ll shoot you,” said Sapt quietly. - “You know you can trust my word. Now read it.” - </p> - <p> - “By God, I won’t read it.” - </p> - <p> - “Read it, I tell you, or say your prayers.” - </p> - <p> - The muzzle was within a foot of his head. He unfolded the telegram. Then - he looked at Sapt. “Read,” said the constable. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t understand what it means,” grumbled Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - “Possibly I may be able to help you.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s nothing but—” - </p> - <p> - “Read, my lord, read!” - </p> - <p> - Then he read, and this was the telegram: “Holf, 19 Konigstrasse.” - </p> - <p> - “A thousand thanks, my lord. And—the place it’s despatched from?” - </p> - <p> - “Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “Just turn it so that I can see. Oh, I don’t doubt you, but seeing is - believing. Ah, thanks. It’s as you say. You’re puzzled what it means, - Count?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know at all what it means!” - </p> - <p> - “How strange! Because I can guess so well.” - </p> - <p> - “You are very acute, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “It seems to me a simple thing to guess, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - “And pray,” said Rischenheim, endeavoring to assume an easy and sarcastic - air, “what does your wisdom tell you that the message means?” - </p> - <p> - “I think, my lord, that the message is an address.” - </p> - <p> - “An address! I never thought of that. But I know no Holf.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think it’s Holf’s address.” - </p> - <p> - “Whose, then?” asked Rischenheim, biting his nail, and looking furtively - at the constable. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said Sapt, “the present address of Count Rupert of Hentzau.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, he fixed his eyes on the eyes of Rischenheim. He gave a - short, sharp laugh, then put his revolver in his pocket and bowed to the - count. - </p> - <p> - “In truth, you are very convenient, my dear Count,” said he. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. THE TASK OF THE QUEEN’S SERVANTS - </h2> - <p> - THE doctor who attended me at Wintenberg was not only discreet, but also - indulgent; perhaps he had the sense to see that little benefit would come - to a sick man from fretting in helplessness on his back, when he was on - fire to be afoot. I fear he thought the baker’s rolling-pin was in my - mind, but at any rate I extorted a consent from him, and was on my way - home from Wintenberg not much more than twelve hours after Rudolf - Rassendyll left me. Thus I arrived at my own house in Strelsau on the same - Friday morning that witnessed the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim’s two-fold - interview with the king at the Castle of Zenda. The moment I had arrived, - I sent James, whose assistance had been, and continued to be, in all - respects most valuable, to despatch a message to the constable, - acquainting him with my whereabouts, and putting myself entirely at his - disposal. Sapt received this message while a council of war was being - held, and the information it gave aided not a little in the arrangements - that the constable and Rudolf Rassendyll made. What these were I must now - relate, although, I fear, at the risk of some tediousness. - </p> - <p> - Yet that council of war in Zenda was held under no common circumstances. - Cowed as Rischenheim appeared, they dared not let him out of their sight. - Rudolf could not leave the room into which Sapt had locked him; the king’s - absence was to be short, and before he came again Rudolf must be gone, - Rischenheim safely disposed of, and measures taken against the original - letter reaching the hands for which the intercepted copy had been - destined. The room was a large one. In the corner farthest from the door - sat Rischenheim, disarmed, dispirited, to all seeming ready to throw up - his dangerous game and acquiesce in any terms presented to him. Just - inside the door, guarding it, if need should be, with their lives, were - the other three, Bernenstein merry and triumphant, Sapt blunt and cool, - Rudolf calm and clear-headed. The queen awaited the result of their - deliberations in her apartments, ready to act as they directed, but - determined to see Rudolf before he left the castle. They conversed - together in low tones. Presently Sapt took paper and wrote. This first - message was to me, and it bade me come to Zenda that afternoon; another - head and another pair of hands were sadly needed. Then followed more - deliberation; Rudolf took up the talking now, for his was the bold plan on - which they consulted. Sapt twirled his moustache, smiling doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” murmured young Bernenstein, his eyes alight with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “It’s dangerous, but the best thing,” said Rudolf, carefully sinking his - voice yet lower, lest the prisoner should catch the lightest word of what - he said. “It involves my staying here till the evening. Is that possible?” - </p> - <p> - “No; but you can leave here and hide in the forest till I join you,” said - Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Till we join you,” corrected Bernenstein eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the constable, “you must look after our friend here. Come, - Lieutenant, it’s all in the queen’s service.” - </p> - <p> - “Besides,” added Rudolf with a smile, “neither the colonel nor I would let - you have a chance at Rupert. He’s our game, isn’t he, Sapt?” - </p> - <p> - The colonel nodded. Rudolf in his turn took paper, and here is the message - that he wrote: - </p> - <p> - “Holf, 19, Konigstrasse, Strelsau.—All well. He has what I had, but - wishes to see what you have. He and I will be at the hunting-lodge at ten - this evening. Bring it and meet us. The business is unsuspected.—R.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf threw the paper across to Sapt; Bernenstein leant over the - constable’s shoulder and read it eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “I doubt if it would bring me,” grinned old Sapt, throwing the paper down. - </p> - <p> - “It’ll bring Rupert to Hentzau. Why not? He’ll know that the king will - wish to meet him unknown to the queen, and also unknown to you, Sapt, - since you were my friend: what place more likely for the king to choose - than his hunting-lodge, where he is accustomed to go when he wishes to be - alone? The message will bring him, depend on it. Why, man, Rupert would - come even if he suspected; and why should he suspect?” - </p> - <p> - “They may have a cipher, he and Rischenheim,” objected Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “No, or Rupert would have sent the address in it,” retorted Rudolf - quickly. - </p> - <p> - “Then—when he comes?” asked Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “He finds such a king as Rischenheim found, and Sapt, here, at his elbow.” - </p> - <p> - “But he’ll know you,” objected Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I think he’ll know me,” said Rudolf with a smile. “Meanwhile we send - for Fritz to come here and look after the king.” - </p> - <p> - “And Rischenheim?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s your share, Lieutenant. Sapt, is any one at Tarlenheim?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Count Stanislas has put it at Fritz’s disposal.” - </p> - <p> - “Good; then Fritz’s two friends, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim and - Lieutenant von Bernenstein, will ride over there to-day. The constable of - Zenda will give the lieutenant twenty-four hours’ leave of absence, and - the two gentlemen will pass the day and sleep at the chateau. They will - pass the day side by side, Bernenstein, not losing sight of one another - for an instant, and they will pass the night in the same room. And one of - them will not close his eyes nor take his hand off the butt of his - revolver.” - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir,” said young Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “If he tries to escape or give any alarm, shoot him through the head, ride - to the frontier, get to safe hiding, and, if you can, let us know.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Bernenstein simply. Sapt had chosen well, and the young - officer made nothing of the peril and ruin that her Majesty’s service - might ask of him. - </p> - <p> - A restless movement and a weary sigh from Rischenheim attracted their - attention. He had strained his ears to listen till his head ached, but the - talkers had been careful, and he had heard nothing that threw light on - their deliberations. He had now given up his vain attempt, and sat in - listless inattention, sunk in an apathy. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think he’ll give you much trouble,” whispered Sapt to - Bernenstein, with a jerk of his thumb towards the captive. - </p> - <p> - “Act as if he were likely to give you much,” urged Rudolf, laying his hand - on the lieutenant’s arm. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that’s a wise man’s advice,” nodded the constable approvingly. “We - were well governed, Lieutenant, when this Rudolf was king.” - </p> - <p> - “Wasn’t I also his loyal subject?” asked young Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, wounded in my service,” added Rudolf; for he remembered how the boy—he - was little more then—had been fired upon in the park of Tarlenheim, - being taken for Mr. Rassendyll himself. - </p> - <p> - Thus their plans were laid. If they could defeat Rupert, they would have - Rischenheim at their mercy. If they could keep Rischenheim out of the way - while they used his name in their trick, they had a strong chance of - deluding and killing Rupert. Yes, of killing him; for that and nothing - less was their purpose, as the constable of Zenda himself has told me. - </p> - <p> - “We would have stood on no ceremony,” he said. “The queen’s honor was at - stake, and the fellow himself an assassin.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein rose and went out. He was gone about half an hour, being - employed in despatching the telegrams to Strelsau. Rudolf and Sapt used - the interval to explain to Rischenheim what they proposed to do with him. - They asked no pledge, and he offered none. He heard what they said with a - dulled uninterested air. When asked if he would go without resistance, he - laughed a bitter laugh. “How can I resist?” he asked. “I should have a - bullet through my head.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, without doubt,” said Colonel Sapt. “My lord, you are very sensible.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me advise you, my lord,” said Rudolf, looking down on him kindly - enough, “if you come safe through this affair, to add honor to your - prudence, and chivalry to your honor. There is still time for you to - become a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - He turned away, followed by a glance of anger from the count and a grating - chuckle from old Sapt. - </p> - <p> - A few moments later Bernenstein returned. His errand was done, and horses - for himself and Rischenheim were at the gate of the castle. After a few - final words and clasp of the hand from Rudolf, the lieutenant motioned to - his prisoner to accompany him, and they two walked out together, being to - all appearance willing companions and in perfect friendliness with one - another. The queen herself watched them go from the windows of her - apartment, and noticed that Bernenstein rode half a pace behind, and that - his free hand rested on the revolver by his side. - </p> - <p> - It was now well on in the morning, and the risk of Rudolf’s sojourn in the - castle grew greater with every moment. Yet he was resolved to see the - queen before he went. This interview presented no great difficulties, - since her Majesty was in the habit of coming to the constable’s room to - take his advice or to consult with him. The hardest task was to contrive - afterwards a free and unnoticed escape for Mr. Rassendyll. To meet this - necessity, the constable issued orders that the company of guards which - garrisoned the castle should parade at one o’clock in the park, and that - the servants should all, after their dinner, be granted permission to - watch the manoeuvres. By this means he counted on drawing off any curious - eyes and allowing Rudolf to reach the forest unobserved. They appointed a - rendezvous in a handy and sheltered spot; the one thing which they were - compelled to trust to fortune was Rudolf’s success in evading chance - encounters while he waited. Mr. Rassendyll himself was confident of his - ability to conceal his presence, or, if need were, so to hide his face - that no strange tale of the king being seen wandering, alone and - beardless, should reach the ears of the castle or the town. - </p> - <p> - While Sapt was making his arrangements, Queen Flavia came to the room - where Rudolf Rassendyll was. It was then nearing twelve, and young - Bernenstein had been gone half an hour. Sapt attended her to the door, set - a sentry at the end of the passage with orders that her Majesty should on - no pretence be disturbed, promised her very audibly to return as soon as - he possibly could, and respectfully closed the door after she had entered. - The constable was well aware of the value in a secret business of doing - openly all that can safely be done with openness. - </p> - <p> - All of what passed at that interview I do not know, but a part Queen - Flavia herself told to me, or rather to Helga, my wife; for although it - was meant to reach my ear, yet to me, a man, she would not disclose it - directly. First she learnt from Mr. Rassendyll the plans that had been - made, and, although she trembled at the danger that he must run in meeting - Rupert of Hentzau, she had such love of him and such a trust in his powers - that she seemed to doubt little of his success. But she began to reproach - herself for having brought him into this peril by writing her letter. At - this he took from his pocket the copy that Rischenheim had carried. He had - found time to read it, and now before her eyes he kissed it. - </p> - <p> - “Had I as many lives as there are words, my queen,” he said softly, “for - each word I would gladly give a life.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Rudolf, but you’ve only one life, and that more mine than yours. Did - you think we should ever meet again?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t know,” said he; and now they were standing opposite one another. - </p> - <p> - “But I knew,” she said, her eyes shining brightly; “I knew always that we - should meet once more. Not how, nor where, but just that we should. So I - lived, Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - “God bless you!” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I lived through it all.” - </p> - <p> - He pressed her hand, knowing what that phrase meant and must mean for her. - </p> - <p> - “Will it last forever?” she asked, suddenly gripping his hand tightly. But - a moment later she went on: “No, no, I mustn’t make you unhappy, Rudolf. - I’m half glad I wrote the letter, and half glad they stole it. It’s so - sweet to have you fighting for me, for me only this time, Rudolf—not - for the king, for me!” - </p> - <p> - “Sweet indeed, my dearest lady. Don’t be afraid: we shall win.” - </p> - <p> - “You will win, yes. And then you’ll go?” And, dropping his hand, she - covered her face with hers. - </p> - <p> - “I mustn’t kiss your face,” said he, “but your hands I may kiss,” and he - kissed her hands as they were pressed against her face. - </p> - <p> - “You wear my ring,” she murmured through her fingers, “always?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes,” he said, with a little laugh of wonder at her question. - </p> - <p> - “And there is—no one else?” - </p> - <p> - “My queen!” said he, laughing again. - </p> - <p> - “No, I knew really, Rudolf, I knew really,” and now her hands flew out - towards him, imploring his pardon. Then she began to speak quickly: - “Rudolf, last night I had a dream about you, a strange dream. I seemed to - be in Strelsau, and all the people were talking about the king. It was you - they meant; you were the king. At last you were the king, and I was your - queen. But I could see you only very dimly; you were somewhere, but I - could not make out where; just sometimes your face came. Then I tried to - tell you that you were king—yes, and Colonel Sapt and Fritz tried to - tell you; the people, too, called out that you were king. What did it - mean? But your face, when I saw it, was unmoved, and very pale, and you - seemed not to hear what we said, not even what I said. It almost seemed as - if you were dead, and yet king. Ah, you mustn’t die, even to be king,” and - she laid a hand on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Sweetheart,” said he gently, “in dreams desires and fears blend in - strange visions, so I seemed to you to be both a king and a dead man; but - I’m not a king, and I am a very healthy fellow. Yet a thousand thanks to - my dearest queen for dreaming of me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, but what could it mean?” she asked again. - </p> - <p> - “What does it mean when I dream always of you, except that I always love - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Was it only that?” she said, still unconvinced. - </p> - <p> - What more passed between them I do not know. I think that the queen told - my wife more, but women will sometimes keep women’s secrets even from - their husbands; though they love us, yet we are always in some sort the - common enemy, against whom they join hands. Well, I would not look too far - into such secrets, for to know must be, I suppose, to blame, and who is - himself so blameless that in such a case he would be free with his - censures? - </p> - <p> - Yet much cannot have passed, for almost close on their talk about the - dream came Colonel Sapt, saying that the guards were in line, and all the - women streamed out to watch them, while the men followed, lest the gay - uniforms should make them forgotten. Certainly a quiet fell over the old - castle, that only the constable’s curt tones broke, as he bade Rudolf come - by the back way to the stables and mount his horse. - </p> - <p> - “There’s no time to lose,” said Sapt, and his eye seemed to grudge the - queen even one more word with the man she loved. - </p> - <p> - But Rudolf was not to be hurried into leaving her in such a fashion. He - clapped the constable on the shoulder, laughing, and bidding him think of - what he would for a moment; then he went again to the queen and would have - knelt before her, but that she would not suffer, and they stood with hands - locked. Then suddenly she drew him to her and kissed his forehead, saying: - “God go with you, Rudolf my knight.” - </p> - <p> - Thus she turned away, letting him go. He walked towards the door; but a - sound arrested his steps, and he waited in the middle of the room, his - eyes on the door. Old Sapt flew to the threshold, his sword half-way out - of its sheath. There was a step coming down the passage, and the feet - stopped outside the door. - </p> - <p> - “Is it the king?” whispered Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “No, it’s not the king,” came in unhesitating certainty from Queen Flavia. - </p> - <p> - They waited: a low knock sounded on the door. Still for a moment they - waited. The knock was repeated urgently. - </p> - <p> - “We must open,” said Sapt. “Behind the curtain with you, Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - The queen sat down, and Sapt piled a heap of papers before her, that it - might seem as though he and she transacted business. But his precautions - were interrupted by a hoarse, eager, low cry from outside, “Quick! in - God’s name, quick!” - </p> - <p> - They knew the voice for Bernenstein’s. The queen sprang up, Rudolf came - out, Sapt turned the key. The lieutenant entered, hurried, breathless, - pale. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” asked Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “He has got away?” cried Rudolf, guessing in a moment the misfortune that - had brought Bernenstein back. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he’s got away. Just as we left the town and reached the open road - towards Tarlenheim, he said, ‘Are we going to walk all the way? I was not - loath to go quicker, and we broke into a trot. But I—ah, what a - pestilent fool I am!” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind that—go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I was thinking of him and my task, and having a bullet ready for - him, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Of everything except your horse?” guessed Sapt, with a grim smile. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; and the horse pecked and stumbled, and I fell forward on his neck. I - put out my arm to recover myself, and—I jerked my revolver on to the - ground.” - </p> - <p> - “And he saw?” - </p> - <p> - “He saw, curse him. For a second he waited; then he smiled, and turned, - and dug his spurs in and was off, straight across country towards - Strelsau. Well, I was off my horse in a moment, and I fired three times - after him.” - </p> - <p> - “You hit?” asked Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “I think so. He shifted the reins from one hand to the other and wrung his - arm. I mounted and made after him, but his horse was better than mine and - he gained ground. We began to meet people, too, and I didn’t dare to fire - again. So I left him and rode here to tell you. Never employ me again, - Constable, so long as you live,” and the young man’s face was twisted with - misery and shame, as, forgetting the queen’s presence, he sank - despondently into a chair. - </p> - <p> - Sapt took no notice of his self-reproaches. But Rudolf went and laid a - hand on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “It was an accident,” he said. “No blame to you.” - </p> - <p> - The queen rose and walked towards him; Bernenstein sprang to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said she, “it is not success but effort that should gain thanks,” - and she held out her hand. - </p> - <p> - Well, he was young; I do not laugh at the sob that escaped his lips as he - turned his head. - </p> - <p> - “Let me try something else!” he implored. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Rassendyll,” said the queen, “you’ll do my pleasure by employing this - gentleman in my further service. I am already deep in his debt, and would - be deeper.” There was a moment’s silence. - </p> - <p> - “Well, but what’s to be done?” asked Colonel Sapt. “He’s gone to - Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “He’ll stop Rupert,” mused Mr. Rassendyll. “He may or he mayn’t.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s odds that he will.” - </p> - <p> - “We must provide for both.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt and Rudolf looked at one another. - </p> - <p> - “You must be here!” asked Rudolf of the constable. “Well, I’ll go to - Strelsau.” His smile broke out. “That is, if Bernenstein’ll lend me a - hat.” - </p> - <p> - The queen made no sound; but she came and laid her hand on his arm. He - looked at her, smiling still. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I’ll go to Strelsau,” said he, “and I’ll find Rupert, ay, and - Rischenheim too, if they’re in the city.” - </p> - <p> - “Take me with you,” cried Bernenstein eagerly. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf glanced at Sapt. The constable shook his head. Bernenstein’s face - fell. - </p> - <p> - “It’s not that, boy,” said old Sapt, half in kindness, half in impatience. - “We want you here. Suppose Rupert comes here with Rischenheim!” - </p> - <p> - The idea was new, but the event was by no means unlikely. - </p> - <p> - “But you’ll be here, Constable,” urged Bernenstein, “and Fritz von - Tarlenheim will arrive in an hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, young man,” said Sapt, nodding his head; “but when I fight Rupert of - Hentzau, I like to have a man to spare,” and he grinned broadly, being no - whit afraid of what Bernenstein might think of his courage. “Now go and - get him a hat,” he added, and the lieutenant ran off on the errand. - </p> - <p> - But the queen cried: - </p> - <p> - “Are you sending Rudolf alone, then—alone against two?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, madam, if I may command the campaign,” said Sapt. “I take it he - should be equal to the task.” - </p> - <p> - He could not know the feelings of the queen’s heart. She dashed her hand - across her eyes, and turned in mute entreaty to Rudolf Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “I must go,” he said softly. “We can’t spare Bernenstein, and I mustn’t - stay here.” - </p> - <p> - She said no more. Rudolf walked across to Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Take me to the stables. Is the horse good? I daren’t take the train. Ah, - here’s the lieutenant and the hat.” - </p> - <p> - “The horse’ll get you there to-night,” said Sapt. “Come along. - Bernenstein, stay with the queen.” - </p> - <p> - At the threshold Rudolf paused, and, turning his head, glanced once at - Queen Flavia, who stood still as a statue, watching him go. Then he - followed the constable, who brought him where the horse was. Sapt’s - devices for securing freedom from observation had served well, and Rudolf - mounted unmolested. - </p> - <p> - “The hat doesn’t fit very well,” said Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “Like a crown better, eh?” suggested the colonel. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf laughed as he asked, “Well, what are my orders?” - </p> - <p> - “Ride round by the moat to the road at the back; then through the forest - to Hofbau; you know your way after that. You mustn’t reach Strelsau till - it’s dark. Then, if you want a shelter—” - </p> - <p> - “To Fritz von Tarlenheim’s, yes! From there I shall go straight to the - address.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay. And—Rudolf!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” - </p> - <p> - “Make an end of him this time.” - </p> - <p> - “Please God. But if he goes to the lodge? He will, unless Rischenheim - stops him.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll be there in case—but I think Rischenheim will stop him.” - </p> - <p> - “If he comes here?” - </p> - <p> - “Young Bernenstein will die before he suffers him to reach the king.” - </p> - <p> - “Sapt!” - </p> - <p> - “Ay?” - </p> - <p> - “Be kind to her.” - </p> - <p> - “Bless the man, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “Good-by.” - </p> - <p> - “And good luck.” - </p> - <p> - At a swift canter Rudolf darted round the drive that led from the stables, - by the moat, to the old forest road behind; five minutes brought him - within the shelter of the trees, and he rode on confidently, meeting - nobody, save here and there a yokel, who, seeing a man ride hard with his - head averted, took no more notice of him than to wish that he himself - could ride abroad instead of being bound to work. Thus Rudolf Rassendyll - set out again for the walls of Strelsau, through the forest of Zenda. And - ahead of him, with an hour’s start, galloped the Count of - Luzau-Rischenheim, again a man, and a man with resolution, resentment, and - revenge in his heart. - </p> - <p> - The game was afoot now; who could tell the issue of it? - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. THE MESSAGE OF SIMON THE HUNTSMAN - </h2> - <p> - I RECEIVED the telegram sent to me by the Constable of Zenda at my own - house in Strelsau about one o’clock. It is needless to say that I made - immediate preparations to obey his summons. My wife indeed protested—and - I must admit with some show of reason—that I was unfit to endure - further fatigues, and that my bed was the only proper place for me. I - could not listen; and James, Mr. Rassendyll’s servant, being informed of - the summons, was at my elbow with a card of the trains from Strelsau to - Zenda, without waiting for any order from me. I had talked to this man in - the course of our journey, and discovered that he had been in the service - of Lord Topham, formerly British Ambassador to the Court of Ruritania. How - far he was acquainted with the secrets of his present master, I did not - know, but his familiarity with the city and the country made him of great - use to me. We discovered, to our annoyance, that no train left till four - o’clock, and then only a slow one; the result was that we could not arrive - at the castle till past six o’clock. This hour was not absolutely too - late, but I was of course eager to be on the scene of action as early as - possible. - </p> - <p> - “You’d better see if you can get a special, my lord,” James suggested; - “I’ll run on to the station and arrange about it.” - </p> - <p> - I agreed. Since I was known to be often employed in the king’s service, I - could take a special train without exciting remark. James set out, and - about a quarter of an hour later I got into my carriage to drive to the - station. Just as the horses were about to start, however, the butler - approached me. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, my lord,” said he, “but Bauer didn’t return with your - lordship. Is he coming back?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said I. “Bauer was grossly impertinent on the journey, and I - dismissed him.” - </p> - <p> - “Those foreign men are never to be trusted, my lord. And your lordship’s - bag?” - </p> - <p> - “What, hasn’t it come?” I cried. “I told him to send it.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s not arrived, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - “Can the rogue have stolen it?” I exclaimed indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “If your lordship wishes it, I will mention the matter to the police.” - </p> - <p> - I appeared to consider this proposal. - </p> - <p> - “Wait till I come back,” I ended by saying. “The bag may come, and I have - no reason to doubt the fellow’s honesty.” - </p> - <p> - This, I thought, would be the end of my connection with Master Bauer. He - had served Rupert’s turn, and would now disappear from the scene. Indeed - it may be that Rupert would have liked to dispense with further aid from - him; but he had few whom he could trust, and was compelled to employ those - few more than once. At any rate he had not done with Bauer, and I very - soon received proof of the fact. My house is a couple of miles from the - station, and we have to pass through a considerable part of the old town, - where the streets are narrow and tortuous and progress necessarily slow. - We had just entered the Konigstrasse (and it must be remembered that I had - at that time no reason for attaching any special significance to this - locality), and were waiting impatiently for a heavy dray to move out of - our path, when my coachman, who had overheard the butler’s conversation - with me, leant down from his box with an air of lively excitement. - </p> - <p> - “My lord,” he cried, “there’s Bauer—there, passing the butcher’s - shop!” - </p> - <p> - I sprang up in the carriage; the man’s back was towards me, and he was - threading his way through the people with a quick, stealthy tread. I - believe he must have seen me, and was slinking away as fast as he could. I - was not sure of him, but the coachman banished my doubt by saying, “It’s - Bauer—it’s certainly Bauer, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - I hardly stayed to form a resolution. If I could catch this fellow or even - see where he went, a most important clue as to Rupert’s doings and - whereabouts might be put into my hand. I leapt out of the carriage, - bidding the man wait, and at once started in pursuit of my former servant. - I heard the coachman laugh: he thought, no doubt, that anxiety for the - missing bag inspired such eager haste. - </p> - <p> - The numbers of the houses in the Konigstrasse begin, as anybody familiar - with Strelsau will remember, at the end adjoining the station. The street - being a long one, intersecting almost the entire length of the old town, I - was, when I set out after Bauer, opposite number 300 or thereabouts, and - distant nearly three-quarters of a mile from that important number - nineteen, towards which Bauer was hurrying like a rabbit to its burrow. I - knew nothing and thought nothing of where he was going; to me nineteen was - no more than eighteen or twenty; my only desire was to overtake him. I had - no clear idea of what I meant to do when I caught him, but I had some hazy - notion of intimidating him into giving up his secret by the threat of an - accusation of theft. In fact, he had stolen my bag. After him I went; and - he knew that I was after him. I saw him turn his face over his shoulder, - and then bustle on faster. Neither of us, pursued or pursuer, dared quite - to run; as it was, our eager strides and our carelessness of collisions - created more than enough attention. But I had one advantage. Most folk in - Strelsau knew me, and many got out of my way who were by no means inclined - to pay a like civility to Bauer. Thus I began to gain on him, in spite of - his haste; I had started fifty yards behind, but as we neared the end of - the street and saw the station ahead of us, not more than twenty separated - me from him. Then an annoying thing happened. I ran full into a stout old - gentleman; Bauer had run into him before, and he was standing, as people - will, staring in resentful astonishment at his first assailant’s - retreating figure. The second collision immensely increased his vexation; - for me it had yet worse consequences; for when I disentangled myself, - Bauer was gone! There was not a sign of him; I looked up: the number of - the house above me was twenty-three; but the door was shut. I walked on a - few paces, past twenty-two, past twenty-one—and up to nineteen. - Nineteen was an old house, with a dirty, dilapidated front and an air - almost dissipated. It was a shop where provisions of the cheaper sort were - on view in the window, things that one has never eaten but has heard of - people eating. The shop-door stood open, but there was nothing to connect - Bauer with the house. Muttering an oath in my exasperation, I was about to - pass on, when an old woman put her head out of the door and looked round. - I was full in front of her. I am sure that the old woman started slightly, - and I think that I did. For I knew her and she knew me. She was old Mother - Holf, one of whose sons, Johann, had betrayed to us the secret of the - dungeon at Zenda, while the other had died by Mr. Rassendyll’s hand by the - side of the great pipe that masked the king’s window. Her presence might - mean nothing, yet it seemed at once to connect the house with the secret - of the past and the crisis of the present. - </p> - <p> - She recovered herself in a moment, and curtseyed to me. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Mother Holf,” said I, “how long is it since you set up shop in - Strelsau?” - </p> - <p> - “About six months, my lord,” she answered, with a composed air and arms - akimbo. - </p> - <p> - “I have not come across you before,” said I, looking keenly at her. - </p> - <p> - “Such a poor little shop as mine would not be likely to secure your - lordship’s patronage,” she answered, in a humility that seemed only half - genuine. - </p> - <p> - I looked up at the windows. They were all closed and had their wooden - lattices shut. The house was devoid of any signs of life. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve a good house here, mother, though it wants a splash of paint,” - said I. “Do you live all alone in it with your daughter?” For Max was dead - and Johann abroad, and the old woman had, as far as I knew, no other - children. - </p> - <p> - “Sometimes; sometimes not,” said she. “I let lodgings to single men when I - can.” - </p> - <p> - “Full now?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a soul, worse luck, my lord.” Then I shot an arrow at a venture. - </p> - <p> - “The man who came in just now, then, was he only a customer?” - </p> - <p> - “I wish a customer had come in, but there has been nobody,” she replied in - surprised tones. - </p> - <p> - I looked full in her eyes; she met mine with a blinking imperturbability. - There is no face so inscrutable as a clever old woman’s when she is on her - guard. And her fat body barred the entrance; I could not so much as see - inside, while the window, choked full with pigs’ trotters and such-like - dainties, helped me very little. If the fox were there, he had got to - earth and I could not dig him out. - </p> - <p> - At this moment I saw James approaching hurriedly. He was looking up the - street, no doubt seeking my carriage and chafing at its delay. An instant - later he saw me. - </p> - <p> - “My lord,” he said, “your train will be ready in five minutes; if it - doesn’t start then, the line must be closed for another half-hour.” - </p> - <p> - I perceived a faint smile on the old woman’s face. I was sure then that I - was on the track of Bauer, and probably of more than Bauer. But my first - duty was to obey orders and get to Zenda. Besides, I could not force my - way in, there in open daylight, without a scandal that would have set all - the long ears in Strelsau aprick. I turned away reluctantly. I did not - even know for certain that Bauer was within, and thus had no information - of value to carry with me. - </p> - <p> - “If your lordship would kindly recommend me—” said the old hag. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I’ll recommend you,” said I. “I’ll recommend you to be careful whom - you take for lodgers. There are queer fish about, mother.” - </p> - <p> - “I take the money beforehand,” she retorted with a grin; and I was as sure - that she was in the plot as of my own existence. - </p> - <p> - There was nothing to be done; James’s face urged me towards the station. I - turned away. But at this instant a loud, merry laugh sounded from inside - the house. I started, and this time violently. The old woman’s brow - contracted in a frown, and her lips twitched for a moment; then her face - regained its composure; but I knew the laugh, and she must have guessed - that I knew it. Instantly I tried to appear as though I had noticed - nothing. I nodded to her carelessly, and bidding James follow me, set out - for the station. But as we reached the platform, I laid my hand on his - shoulder, saying: - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Hentzau is in that house, James.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at me without surprise; he was as hard to stir to wonder as old - Sapt himself. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir. Shall I stay and watch?” - </p> - <p> - “No, come with me,” I answered. To tell the truth, I thought that to leave - him alone in Strelsau to watch that house was in all likelihood to sign - his death warrant, and I shrank from imposing the duty on him. Rudolf - might send him if he would; I dared not. So we got into our train, and I - suppose that my coachman, when he had looked long enough for me, went - home. I forgot to ask him afterwards. Very likely he thought it a fine - joke to see his master hunting a truant servant and a truant bag through - the streets in broad daylight. Had he known the truth, he would have been - as interested, though, maybe, less amused. - </p> - <p> - I arrived at the town of Zenda at half-past three, and was in the castle - before four. I may pass over the most kind and gracious words with which - the queen received me. Every sight of her face and every sound of her - voice bound a man closer to her service, and now she made me feel that I - was a poor fellow to have lost her letter and yet to be alive. But she - would hear nothing of such talk, choosing rather to praise the little I - had done than to blame the great thing in which I had failed. Dismissed - from her presence, I flew open-mouthed to Sapt. I found him in his room - with Bernenstein, and had the satisfaction of learning that my news of - Rupert’s whereabouts was confirmed by his information. I was also made - acquainted with all that had been done, even as I have already related it, - from the first successful trick played on Rischenheim to the moment of his - unfortunate escape. But my face grew long and apprehensive when I heard - that Rudolf Rassendyll had gone alone to Strelsau to put his head in that - lion’s mouth in the Konigstrasse. - </p> - <p> - “There will be three of them there—Rupert, Rischenheim, and my - rascal Bauer,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “As to Rupert, we don’t know,” Sapt reminded me. “He’ll be there if - Rischenheim arrives in time to tell him the truth. But we have also to be - ready for him here, and at the hunting lodge. Well, we’re ready for him - wherever he is: Rudolf will be in Strelsau, you and I will ride to the - lodge, and Bernenstein will be here with the queen.” - </p> - <p> - “Only one here?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, but a good one,” said the constable, clapping Bernenstein on the - shoulder. “We sha’n’t be gone above four hours, and those while the king - is safe in his bed. Bernenstein has only to refuse access to him, and - stand to that with his life till we come back. You’re equal to that, eh, - Lieutenant?” - </p> - <p> - I am, by nature, a cautious man, and prone to look at the dark side of - every prospect and the risks of every enterprise; but I could not see what - better dispositions were possible against the attack that threatened us. - Yet I was sorely uneasy concerning Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - Now, after all our stir and runnings to and fro, came an hour or two of - peace. We employed the time in having a good meal, and it was past five - when, our repast finished, we sat back in our chairs enjoying cigars. - James had waited on us, quietly usurping the office of the constable’s own - servant, and thus we had been able to talk freely. The man’s calm - confidence in his master and his master’s fortune also went far to comfort - me. - </p> - <p> - “The king should be back soon,” said Sapt at last, with a glance at his - big, old-fashioned silver watch. “Thank God, he’ll be too tired to sit up - long. We shall be free by nine o’clock, Fritz. I wish young Rupert would - come to the lodge!” And the colonel’s face expressed a lively pleasure at - the idea. - </p> - <p> - Six o’clock struck, and the king did not appear. A few moments later, a - message came from the queen, requesting our presence on the terrace in - front of the chateau. The place commanded a view of the road by which the - king would ride back, and we found the queen walking restlessly up and - down, considerably disquieted by the lateness of his return. In such a - position as ours, every unusual or unforeseen incident magnifies its - possible meaning, and invests itself with a sinister importance which - would at ordinary times seem absurd. We three shared the queen’s feelings, - and forgetting the many chances of the chase, any one of which would amply - account for the king’s delay, fell to speculating on remote possibilities - of disaster. He might have met Rischenheim—though they had ridden in - opposite directions; Rupert might have intercepted him—though no - means could have brought Rupert to the forest so early. Our fears defeated - common sense, and our conjectures outran possibility. Sapt was the first - to recover from this foolish mood, and he rated us soundly, not sparing - even the queen herself. With a laugh we regained some of our equanimity, - and felt rather ashamed of our weakness. - </p> - <p> - “Still it’s strange that he doesn’t come,” murmured the queen, shading her - eyes with her hand, and looking along the road to where the dark masses of - the forest trees bounded our view. It was already dusk, but not so dark - but that we could have seen the king’s party as soon as it came into the - open. - </p> - <p> - If the king’s delay seemed strange at six, it was stranger at seven, and - by eight most strange. We had long since ceased to talk lightly; by now we - had lapsed into silence. Sapt’s scoldings had died away. The queen, - wrapped in her furs (for it was very cold), sat sometimes on a seat, but - oftener paced restlessly to and fro. Evening had fallen. We did not know - what to do, nor even whether we ought to do anything. Sapt would not own - to sharing our worst apprehensions, but his gloomy silence in face of our - surmises witnessed that he was in his heart as disturbed as we were. For - my part I had come to the end of my endurance, and I cried, “For God’s - sake, let’s act! Shall I go and seek him?” - </p> - <p> - “A needle in a bundle of hay,” said Sapt with a shrug. - </p> - <p> - But at this instant my ear caught the sound of horses cantering on the - road from the forest; at the same moment Bernenstein cried, “Here they - come!” The queen paused, and we gathered round her. The horse-hoofs came - nearer. Now we made out the figures of three men: they were the king’s - huntsmen, and they rode along merrily, singing a hunting chorus. The sound - of it brought relief to us; so far at least there was no disaster. But why - was not the king with them? - </p> - <p> - “The king is probably tired, and is following more slowly, madam,” - suggested Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - This explanation seemed very probable, and the lieutenant and I, as ready - to be hopeful on slight grounds as fearful on small provocation, joyfully - accepted it. Sapt, less easily turned to either mood, said, “Ay, but let - us hear,” and raising his voice, called to the huntsmen, who had now - arrived in the avenue. One of them, the king’s chief huntsman Simon, - gorgeous in his uniform of green and gold, came swaggering along, and - bowed low to the queen. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Simon, where is the king?” she asked, trying to smile. - </p> - <p> - “The king, madam, has sent a message by me to your majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray, deliver it to me, Simon.” - </p> - <p> - “I will, madam. The king has enjoyed fine sport; and, indeed, madam, if I - may say so for myself, a better run.—” - </p> - <p> - “You may say, friend Simon,” interrupted the constable, tapping him on the - shoulder, “anything you like for yourself, but, as a matter of etiquette, - the king’s message should come first.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ay, Constable,” said Simon. “You’re always so down on a man, aren’t - you? Well, then, madam, the king has enjoyed fine sport. For we started a - boar at eleven, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Is this the king’s message, Simon?” asked the queen, smiling in genuine - amusement, but impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, madam, not precisely his majesty’s message.” - </p> - <p> - “Then get to it, man, in Heaven’s name,” growled Sapt testily. For here - were we four (the queen, too, one of us!) on tenterhooks, while the fool - boasted about the sport that he had shown the king. For every boar in the - forest Simon took as much credit as though he, and not Almighty God, had - made the animal. It is the way with such fellows. - </p> - <p> - Simon became a little confused under the combined influence of his own - seductive memories and Sapt’s brusque exhortations. - </p> - <p> - “As I was saying, madam,” he resumed, “the boar led us a long way, but at - last the hounds pulled him down, and his majesty himself gave the coup de - grace. Well, then it was very late.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s no earlier now,” grumbled the constable. - </p> - <p> - “And the king, although indeed, madam, his majesty was so gracious as to - say that no huntsman whom his majesty had ever had, had given his majesty—” - </p> - <p> - “God help us!” groaned the constable. - </p> - <p> - Simon shot an apprehensive apologetic glance at Colonel Sapt. The - constable was frowning ferociously. In spite of the serious matters in - hand I could not forbear a smile, while young Bernenstein broke into an - audible laugh, which he tried to smother with his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the king was very tired, Simon?” said the queen, at once encouraging - him and bringing him back to the point with a woman’s skill. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, madam, the king was very tired; and as we chanced to kill near the - hunting-lodge—” - </p> - <p> - I do not know whether Simon noticed any change in the manner of his - audience. But the queen looked up with parted lips, and I believe that we - three all drew a step nearer him. Sapt did not interrupt this time. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, madam, the king was very tired, and as we chanced to kill near the - hunting-lodge, the king bade us carry our quarry there, and come back to - dress it to-morrow; so we obeyed, and here we are—that is, except - Herbert, my brother, who stayed with the king by his majesty’s orders. - Because, madam, Herbert is a handy fellow, and my good mother taught him - to cook a steak and—” - </p> - <p> - “Stayed where with the king?” roared Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Why, at the hunting-lodge, Constable. The king stays there to-night, and - will ride back tomorrow morning with Herbert. That, madam, is the king’s - message.” - </p> - <p> - We had come to it at last, and it was something to come to. Simon gazed - from face to face. I saw him, and I understood at once that our feelings - must be speaking too plainly. So I took on myself to dismiss him, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, Simon, thanks: we understand.” - </p> - <p> - He bowed to the queen; she roused herself, and added her thanks to mine. - Simon withdrew, looking still a little puzzled. - </p> - <p> - After we were left alone, there was a moment’s silence. Then I said: - </p> - <p> - “Suppose Rupert—” - </p> - <p> - The Constable of Zenda broke in with a short laugh. - </p> - <p> - “On my life,” said he, “how things fall out! We say he will go to the - hunting-lodge, and—he goes!” - </p> - <p> - “If Rupert goes—if Rischenheim doesn’t stop him!” I urged again. - </p> - <p> - The queen rose from her seat and stretched out her hands towards us. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, my letter!” said she. - </p> - <p> - Sapt wasted no time. - </p> - <p> - “Bernenstein,” said he, “you stay here as we arranged. Nothing is altered. - Horses for Fritz and myself in five minutes.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein turned and shot like an arrow along the terrace towards the - stables. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing is altered, madam,” said Sapt, “except that we must be there - before Count Rupert.” - </p> - <p> - I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past nine. Simon’s cursed - chatter had lost a quarter of an hour. I opened my lips to speak. A glance - from Sapt’s eyes told me that he discerned what I was about to say. I was - silent. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll be in time?” asked the queen, with clasped hands and frightened - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly, madam,” returned Sapt with a bow. - </p> - <p> - “You won’t let him reach the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, madam,” said Sapt with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “From my heart, gentlemen,” she said in a trembling voice, “from my heart—” - </p> - <p> - “Here are the horses,” cried Sapt. He snatched her hand, brushed it with - his grizzly moustache, and—well, I am not sure I heard, and I can - hardly believe what I think I heard. But I will set it down for what it is - worth. I think he said, “Bless your sweet face, we’ll do it.” At any rate - she drew back with a little cry of surprise, and I saw the tears standing - in her eyes. I kissed her hand also; then we mounted, and we started, and - we rode, as if the devil were behind us, for the hunting-lodge. - </p> - <p> - But I turned once to watch her standing on the terrace, with young - Bernenstein’s tall figure beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Can we be in time?” said I. It was what I had meant to say before. - </p> - <p> - “I think not, but, by God, we’ll try,” said Colonel Sapt. And I knew why - he had not let me speak. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there was a sound behind us of a horse at the gallop. Our heads - flew round in the ready apprehension of men on a perilous errand. The - hoofs drew near, for the unknown rode with reckless haste. - </p> - <p> - “We had best see what it is,” said the constable, pulling up. - </p> - <p> - A second more, and the horseman was beside us. Sapt swore an oath, half in - amusement, half in vexation. - </p> - <p> - “Why, is it you, James?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” answered Rudolf Rassendyll’s servant. - </p> - <p> - “What the devil do you want?” asked Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “I came to attend on the Count von Tarlenheim, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I did not give you any orders, James.” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir. But Mr. Rassendyll told me not to leave you, unless you sent me - away. So I made haste to follow you.” - </p> - <p> - Then Sapt cried: “Deuce take it, what horse is that?” - </p> - <p> - “The best in the stables, so far as I could see, sir. I was afraid of not - overtaking you.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt tugged his moustaches, scowled, but finally laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Much obliged for your compliment,” said he. “The horse is mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir?” said James with respectful interest. - </p> - <p> - For a moment we were all silent. Then Sapt laughed again. - </p> - <p> - “Forward!” said he, and the three of us dashed into the forest. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. THE TEMPER OF BORIS THE HOUND - </h2> - <p> - Looking back now, in the light of the information I have gathered, I am - able to trace very clearly, and almost hour by hour, the events of this - day, and to understand how chance, laying hold of our cunning plan and - mocking our wiliness, twisted and turned our device to a predetermined but - undreamt-of issue, of which we were most guiltless in thought or intent. - Had the king not gone to the hunting-lodge, our design would have found - the fulfilment we looked for; had Rischenheim succeeded in warning Rupert - of Hentzau, we should have stood where we were. Fate or fortune would have - it otherwise. The king, being weary, went to the lodge, and Rischenheim - failed in warning his cousin. It was a narrow failure, for Rupert, as his - laugh told me, was in the house in the Konigstrasse when I set out from - Strelsau, and Rischenheim arrived there at half past four. He had taken - the train at a roadside station, and thus easily outstripped Mr. - Rassendyll, who, not daring to show his face, was forced to ride all the - way and enter the city under cover of night. But Rischenheim had not dared - to send a warning, for he knew that we were in possession of the address - and did not know what steps we might have taken to intercept messages. - Therefore he was obliged to carry the news himself; when he came his man - was gone. Indeed Rupert must have left the house almost immediately after - I was safe away from the city. He was determined to be in good time for - his appointment; his only enemies were not in Strelsau; there was no - warrant on which he could be apprehended; and, although his connection - with Black Michael was a matter of popular gossip, he felt himself safe - from arrest by virtue of the secret that protected him. Accordingly he - walked out of the house, went to the station, took his ticket to Hofbau, - and, traveling by the four o’clock train, reached his destination about - half-past five. He must have passed the train in which Rischenheim - traveled; the first news the latter had of his departure was from a porter - at the station, who, having recognized the Count of Hentzau, ventured to - congratulate Rischenheim on his cousin’s return. Rischenheim made no - answer, but hurried in great agitation to the house in the Konigstrasse, - where the old woman Holf confirmed the tidings. Then he passed through a - period of great irresolution. Loyalty to Rupert urged that he should - follow him and share the perils into which his cousin was hastening. But - caution whispered that he was not irrevocably committed, that nothing - overt yet connected him with Rupert’s schemes, and that we who knew the - truth should be well content to purchase his silence as to the trick we - had played by granting him immunity. His fears won the day, and, like the - irresolute man he was, he determined to wait in Strelsau till he heard the - issue of the meeting at the lodge. If Rupert were disposed of there, he - had something to offer us in return for peace; if his cousin escaped, he - would be in the Konigstrasse, prepared to second the further plans of the - desperate adventurer. In any event his skin was safe, and I presume to - think that this weighed a little with him; for excuse he had the wound - which Bernenstein had given him, and which rendered his right arm entirely - useless; had he gone then, he would have been a most inefficient ally. - </p> - <p> - Of all this we, as we rode through the forest, knew nothing. We might - guess, conjecture, hope, or fear; but our certain knowledge stopped with - Rischenheim’s start for the capital and Rupert’s presence there at three - o’clock. The pair might have met or might have missed. We had to act as - though they had missed and Rupert were gone to meet the king. But we were - late. The consciousness of that pressed upon us, although we evaded - further mention of it; it made us spur and drive our horses as quickly, - ay, and a little more quickly, than safety allowed. Once James’s horse - stumbled in the darkness and its rider was thrown; more than once a low - bough hanging over the path nearly swept me, dead or stunned, from my - seat. Sapt paid no attention to these mishaps or threatened mishaps. He - had taken the lead, and, sitting well down in his saddle, rode ahead, - turning neither to right nor left, never slackening his pace, sparing - neither himself nor his beast. James and I were side by side behind him. - We rode in silence, finding nothing to say to one another. My mind was - full of a picture—the picture of Rupert with his easy smile handing - to the king the queen’s letter. For the hour of the rendezvous was past. - If that image had been translated into reality, what must we do? To kill - Rupert would satisfy revenge, but of what other avail would it be when the - king had read the letter? I am ashamed to say that I found myself girding - at Mr. Rassendyll for happening on a plan which the course of events had - turned into a trap for ourselves and not for Rupert of Hentzau. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Sapt, turning his head for the first time, pointed in front of - him. The lodge was before us; we saw it looming dimly a quarter of a mile - off. Sapt reined in his horse, and we followed his example. All - dismounted, we tied our horses to trees and went forward at a quick, - silent walk. Our idea was that Sapt should enter on pretext of having been - sent by the queen to attend to her husband’s comfort and arrange for his - return without further fatigue next day. If Rupert had come and gone, the - king’s demeanor would probably betray the fact; if he had not yet come, I - and James, patrolling outside, would bar his passage. There was a third - possibility; he might be even now with the king. Our course in such a case - we left unsettled; so far as I had any plan, it was to kill Rupert and to - convince the king that the letter was a forgery—a desperate hope, so - desperate that we turned our eyes away from the possibility which would - make it our only resource. - </p> - <p> - We were now very near the hunting-lodge, being about forty yards from the - front of it. All at once Sapt threw himself on his stomach on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Give me a match,” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - James struck a light, and, the night being still, the flame burnt - brightly: it showed us the mark of a horse’s hoof, apparently quite fresh, - and leading away from the lodge. We rose and went on, following the tracks - by the aid of more matches till we reached a tree twenty yards from the - door. Here the hoof marks ceased; but beyond there was a double track of - human feet in the soft black earth; a man had gone thence to the house and - returned from the house thither. On the right of the tree were more - hoof-marks, leading up to it and then ceasing. A man had ridden up from - the right, dismounted, gone on foot to the house, returned to the tree, - remounted, and ridden away along the track by which we had approached. - </p> - <p> - “It may be somebody else,” said I; but I do not think that we any of us - doubted in our hearts that the tracks were made by the coming of Hentzau. - Then the king had the letter; the mischief was done. We were too late. - </p> - <p> - Yet we did not hesitate. Since disaster had come, it must be faced. Mr. - Rassendyll’s servant and I followed the constable of Zenda up to the door, - or within a few feet of it. Here Sapt, who was in uniform, loosened his - sword in its sheath; James and I looked to our revolvers. There were no - lights visible in the lodge; the door was shut; everything was still. Sapt - knocked softly with his knuckles, but there was no answer from within. He - laid hold of the handle and turned it; the door opened, and the passage - lay dark and apparently empty before us. - </p> - <p> - “You stay here, as we arranged,” whispered the colonel. “Give me the - matches, and I’ll go in.” - </p> - <p> - James handed him the box of matches, and he crossed the threshold. For a - yard or two we saw him plainly, then his figure grew dim and indistinct. I - heard nothing except my own hard breathing. But in a moment there was - another sound—a muffled exclamation, and a noise of a man stumbling; - a sword, too, clattered on the stones of the passage. We looked at one - another; the noise did not produce any answering stir in the house; then - came the sharp little explosion of a match struck on its box; next we - heard Sapt raising himself, his scabbard scraping along the stones; his - footsteps came towards us, and in a second he appeared at the door. - </p> - <p> - “What was it?” I whispered. - </p> - <p> - “I fell,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Over what?” - </p> - <p> - “Come and see. James, stay here.” - </p> - <p> - I followed the constable for the distance of eight or ten feet along the - passage. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t there a lamp anywhere?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “We can see enough with a match,” he answered. “Here, this is what I fell - over.” - </p> - <p> - Even before the match was struck I saw a dark body lying across the - passage. - </p> - <p> - “A dead man?” I guessed instantly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no,” said Sapt, striking a light: “a dead dog, Fritz.” An - exclamation of wonder escaped me as I fell on my knees. At the same - instant Sapt muttered, “Ay, there’s a lamp,” and, stretching up his hand - to a little oil lamp that stood on a bracket, he lit it, took it down, and - held it over the body. It served to give a fair, though unsteady, light, - and enabled us to see what lay in the passage. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Boris, the boar-hound,” said I, still in a whisper, although there - was no sign of any listeners. - </p> - <p> - I knew the dog well; he was the king’s favorite, and always accompanied - him when he went hunting. He was obedient to every word of the king’s, but - of a rather uncertain temper towards the rest of the world. However, de - mortuis nil nisi bonum; there he lay dead in the passage. Sapt put his - hand on the beast’s head. There was a bullet-hole right through his - forehead. I nodded, and in my turn pointed to the dog’s right shoulder, - which was shattered by another ball. - </p> - <p> - “And see here,” said the constable. “Have a pull at this.” - </p> - <p> - I looked where his hand now was. In the dog’s mouth was a piece of gray - cloth, and on the piece of gray cloth was a horn coat-button. I took hold - of the cloth and pulled. Boris held on even in death. Sapt drew his sword, - and, inserting the point of it between the dog’s teeth, parted them enough - for me to draw out the piece of cloth. - </p> - <p> - “You’d better put it in your pocket,” said the constable. “Now come - along;” and, holding the lamp in one hand and his sword (which he did not - resheathe) in the other, he stepped over the body of the boar-hound, and I - followed him. - </p> - <p> - We were now in front of the door of the room where Rudolf Rassendyll had - supped with us on the day of his first coming to Ruritania, and whence he - had set out to be crowned in Strelsau. On the right of it was the room - where the king slept, and farther along in the same direction the kitchen - and the cellars. The officer or officers in attendance on the king used to - sleep on the other side of the dining-room. - </p> - <p> - “We must explore, I suppose,” said Sapt. In spite of his outward calmness, - I caught in his voice the ring of excitement rising and ill-repressed. But - at this moment we heard from the passage on our left (as we faced the - door) a low moan, and then a dragging sound, as if a man were crawling - along the floor, painfully trailing his limbs after him. Sapt held the - lamp in that direction, and we saw Herbert the forester, pale-faced and - wide-eyed, raised from the ground on his two hands, while his legs - stretched behind him and his stomach rested on the flags. - </p> - <p> - “Who is it?” he said in a faint voice. - </p> - <p> - “Why, man, you know us,” said the constable, stepping up to him. “What’s - happened here?” - </p> - <p> - The poor fellow was very faint, and, I think, wandered a little in his - brain. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got it, sir,” he murmured; “I’ve got it, fair and straight. No more - hunting for me, sir. I’ve got it here in the stomach. Oh, my God!” He let - his head fall with a thud on the floor. - </p> - <p> - I ran and raised him. Kneeling on one knee, I propped his head against my - leg. - </p> - <p> - “Tell us about it,” commanded Sapt in a curt, crisp voice while I got the - man into the easiest position that I could contrive. - </p> - <p> - In slow, struggling tones he began his story, repeating here, omitting - there, often confusing the order of his narrative, oftener still arresting - it while he waited for fresh strength. Yet we were not impatient, but - heard without a thought of time. I looked round once at a sound, and found - that James, anxious about us, had stolen along the passage and joined us. - Sapt took no notice of him, nor of anything save the words that dropped in - irregular utterance from the stricken man’s lips. Here is the story, a - strange instance of the turning of a great event on a small cause. - </p> - <p> - The king had eaten a little supper, and, having gone to his bedroom, had - stretched himself on the bed and fallen asleep without undressing. Herbert - was clearing the dining-table and performing similar duties, when suddenly - (thus he told it) he found a man standing beside him. He did not know (he - was new to the king’s service) who the unexpected visitor was, but he was - of middle height, dark, handsome, and “looked a gentleman all over.” He - was dressed in a shooting-tunic, and a revolver was thrust through the - belt of it. One hand rested on the belt, while the other held a small - square box. - </p> - <p> - “Tell the king I am here. He expects me,” said the stranger. Herbert, - alarmed at the suddenness and silence of the stranger’s approach, and - guiltily conscious of having left the door unbolted, drew back. He was - unarmed, but, being a stout fellow, was prepared to defend his master as - best he could. Rupert—beyond doubt it was Rupert—laughed - lightly, saying again, “Man, he expects me. Go and tell him,” and sat - himself on the table, swinging his leg. Herbert, influenced by the - visitor’s air of command, began to retreat towards the bedroom, keeping - his face towards Rupert. - </p> - <p> - “If the king asks more, tell him I have the packet and the letter,” said - Rupert. The man bowed and passed into the bedroom. The king was asleep; - when roused he seemed to know nothing of letter or packet, and to expect - no visitor. Herbert’s ready fears revived; he whispered that the stranger - carried a revolver. Whatever the king’s faults might be—and God - forbid that I should speak hardly of him whom fate used so hardly—he - was no coward. He sprang from his bed; at the same moment the great - boar-hound uncoiled himself and came from beneath, yawning and fawning. - But in an instant the beast caught the scent of a stranger: his ears - pricked and he gave a low growl, as he looked up in his master’s face. - Then Rupert of Hentzau, weary perhaps of waiting, perhaps only doubtful - whether his message would be properly delivered, appeared in the doorway. - </p> - <p> - The king was unarmed, and Herbert in no better plight; their hunting - weapons were in the adjoining room, and Rupert seemed to bar the way. I - have said that the king was no coward, yet I think, that the sight of - Rupert, bringing back the memory of his torments in the dungeon, half - cowed him; for he shrank back crying, “You!” The hound, in subtle - understanding of his master’s movement, growled angrily. - </p> - <p> - “You expected me, sire?” said Rupert with a bow; but he smiled. I know - that the sight of the king’s alarm pleased him. To inspire terror was his - delight, and it does not come to every man to strike fear into the heart - of a king and an Elphberg. It had come more than once to Rupert of - Hentzau. - </p> - <p> - “No,” muttered the king. Then, recovering his composure a little, he said - angrily, “How dare you come here?” - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t expect me?” cried Rupert, and in an instant the thought of a - trap seemed to flash across his alert mind. He drew the revolver halfway - from his belt, probably in a scarcely conscious movement, born of the - desire to assure himself of its presence. With a cry of alarm Herbert - flung himself before the king, who sank back on the bed. Rupert, puzzled, - vexed, yet half-amused (for he smiled still, the man said), took a step - forward, crying out something about Rischenheim—what, Herbert could - not tell us. - </p> - <p> - “Keep back,” exclaimed the king. “Keep back.” - </p> - <p> - Rupert paused; then, as though with a sudden thought, he held up the box - that was in his left hand, saying: - </p> - <p> - ‘“Well, look at this sire, and we’ll talk afterwards,” and he stretched - out his hand with the box in it. - </p> - <p> - Now the king stood on a razor’s edge, for the king whispered to Herbert, - “What is it? Go and take it.” - </p> - <p> - But Herbert hesitated, fearing to leave the king, whom his body now - protected as though with a shield. Rupert’s impatience overcame him: if - there were a trap, every moment’s delay doubled his danger. With a - scornful laugh he exclaimed, “Catch it, then, if you’re afraid to come for - it,” and he flung the packet to Herbert or the king, or which of them - might chance to catch it. - </p> - <p> - This insolence had a strange result. In an instant, with a fierce growl - and a mighty bound, Boris was at the stranger’s throat. Rupert had not - seen or had not heeded the dog. A startled oath rang out from him. He - snatched the revolver from his belt and fired at his assailant. This shot - must have broken the beast’s shoulder, but it only half arrested his - spring. His great weight was still hurled on Rupert’s chest, and bore him - back on his knee. The packet that he had flung lay unheeded. The king, - wild with alarm and furious with anger at his favorite’s fate, jumped up - and ran past Rupert into the next room. Herbert followed; even as they - went Rupert flung the wounded, weakened beast from him and darted to the - doorway. He found himself facing Herbert, who held a boar-spear, and the - king, who had a double-barreled hunting-gun. He raised his left hand, - Herbert said—no doubt he still asked a hearing—but the king - leveled his weapon. With a spring Rupert gained the shelter of the door, - the bullet sped by him, and buried itself in the wall of the room. Then - Herbert was at him with the boar-spear. Explanations must wait now: it was - life or death; without hesitation Rupert fired at Herbert, bringing him to - the ground with a mortal wound. The king’s gun was at his shoulder again. - </p> - <p> - “You damned fool!” roared Rupert, “if you must have it, take it,” and gun - and revolver rang out at the same moment. But Rupert—never did his - nerve fail him—hit, the king missed; Herbert saw the count stand for - an instant with his smoking barrel in his hand, looking at the king, who - lay on the ground. Then Rupert walked towards the door. I wish I had seen - his face then! Did he frown or smile? Was triumph or chagrin uppermost? - Remorse? Not he! - </p> - <p> - He reached the door and passed through. That was the last Herbert saw of - him; but the fourth actor in the drama, the wordless player whose part had - been so momentous, took the stage. Limping along, now whining in sharp - agony, now growling in fierce anger, with blood flowing but hair - bristling, the hound Boris dragged himself across the room, through the - door, after Rupert of Hentzau. Herbert listened, raising his head from the - ground. There was a growl, an oath, the sound of the scuffle. Rupert must - have turned in time to receive the dog’s spring. The beast, maimed and - crippled by his shattered shoulder, did not reach his enemy’s face, but - his teeth tore away the bit of cloth that we had found held in the vise of - his jaws. Then came another shot, a laugh, retreating steps, and a door - slammed. With that last sound Herbert woke to the fact of the count’s - escape; with weary efforts he dragged himself into the passage. The idea - that he could go on if he got a drink of brandy turned him in the - direction of the cellar. But his strength failed, and he sank down where - we found him, not knowing whether the king were dead or still alive, and - unable even to make his way back to the room where his master lay - stretched on the ground. - </p> - <p> - I had listened to the story, bound as though by a spell. Halfway through, - James’s hand had crept to my arm and rested there; when Herbert finished I - heard the little man licking his lips, again and again slapping his tongue - against them. Then I looked at Sapt. He was as pale as a ghost, and the - lines on his face seemed to have grown deeper. He glanced up, and met my - regard. Neither of us spoke; we exchanged thoughts with our eyes. “This is - our work,” we said to one another. “It was our trap, these are our - victims.” I cannot even now think of that hour, for by our act the king - lay dead. - </p> - <p> - But was he dead? I seized Sapt by the arm. His glance questioned me. - </p> - <p> - “The king,” I whispered hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the king,” he returned. - </p> - <p> - Facing round, we walked to the door of the dining-room. Here I turned - suddenly faint, and clutched at the constable. He held me up, and pushed - the door wide open. The smell of powder was in the room; it seemed as if - the smoke hung about, curling in dim coils round the chandelier which gave - a subdued light. James had the lamp now, and followed us with it. But the - king was not there. A sudden hope filled me. He had not been killed then! - I regained strength, and darted across towards the inside room. Here too - the light was dim, and I turned to beckon for the lamp. Sapt and James - came together, and stood peering over my shoulder in the doorway. - </p> - <p> - The king lay prone on the floor, face downwards, near the bed. He had - crawled there, seeking for some place to rest, as we supposed. He did not - move. We watched him for a moment; the silence seemed deeper than silence - could be. At last, moved by a common impulse, we stepped forward, but - timidly, as though we approached the throne of Death himself. I was the - first to kneel by the king and raise his head. Blood had flowed from his - lips, but it had ceased to flow now. He was dead. - </p> - <p> - I felt Sapt’s hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw his other hand - stretched out towards the ground. I turned my eyes where he pointed. - There, in the king’s hand, stained with the king’sblood, was the box that - I had carried to Wintenberg and Rupert of Hentzau had brought to the lodge - that night. It was not rest, but the box that the dying king had sought in - his last moment. I bent, and lifting his hand unclasped the fingers, still - limp and warm. - </p> - <p> - Sapt bent down with sudden eagerness. “Is it open?” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - The string was round it; the sealing-wax was unbroken. The secret had - outlived the king, and he had gone to his death unknowing. All at once—I - cannot tell why—I put my hand over my eyes; I found my eyelashes - were wet. - </p> - <p> - “Is it open?” asked Sapt again, for in the dim light he could not see. - </p> - <p> - “No,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God!” said he. And, for Sapt’s, the voice was soft. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. THE KING IN THE HUNTING LODGE - </h2> - <p> - THE moment with its shock and tumult of feeling brings one judgment, later - reflection another. Among the sins of Rupert of Hentzau I do not assign - the first and greatest place to his killing of the king. It was, indeed, - the act of a reckless man who stood at nothing and held nothing sacred; - but when I consider Herbert’s story, and trace how the deed came to be - done and the impulsion of circumstances that led to it, it seems to have - been in some sort thrust upon him by the same perverse fate that dogged - our steps. He had meant the king no harm—indeed it may be argued - that, from whatever motive, he had sought to serve him—and save - under the sudden stress of self-defense he had done him none. The king’s - unlooked-for ignorance of his errand, Herbert’s honest hasty zeal, the - temper of Boris the hound, had forced on him an act unmeditated and - utterly against his interest. His whole guilt lay in preferring the king’s - death to his own—a crime perhaps in most men, but hardly deserving a - place in Rupert’s catalogue. All this I can admit now, but on that night, - with the dead body lying there before us, with the story piteously told by - Herbert’s faltering voice fresh in our ears, it was hard to allow any such - extenuation. Our hearts cried out for vengeance, although we ourselves - served the king no more. Nay, it may well be that we hoped to stifle some - reproach of our own consciences by a louder clamor against another’s sin, - or longed to offer some belated empty atonement to our dead master by - executing swift justice on the man who had killed him. I cannot tell fully - what the others felt, but in me at least the dominant impulse was to waste - not a moment in proclaiming the crime and raising the whole country in - pursuit of Rupert, so that every man in Ruritania should quit his work, - his pleasure, or his bed, and make it his concern to take the Count of - Hentzau, alive or dead. I remember that I walked over to where Sapt was - sitting, and caught him by the arm, saying: - </p> - <p> - “We must raise the alarm. If you’ll go to Zenda, I’ll start for Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “The alarm?” said he, looking up at me and tugging his moustache. - </p> - <p> - “Yes: when the news is known, every man in the kingdom will be on the - lookout for him, and he can’t escape.” - </p> - <p> - “So that he’d be taken?” asked the constable. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, to a certainty,” I cried, hot in excitement and emotion. Sapt - glanced across at Mr. Rassendyll’s servant. James had, with my help, - raised the king’s body on to the bed, and had aided the wounded forester - to reach a couch. He stood now near the constable, in his usual - unobtrusive readiness. He did not speak, but I saw a look of understanding - in his eyes as he nodded his head to Colonel Sapt. They were well matched, - that pair, hard to move, hard to shake, not to be turned from the purpose - in their minds and the matter that lay to their hands. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he’d probably be taken or killed,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Then let’s do it!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “With the queen’s letter on him,” said Colonel Sapt. - </p> - <p> - I had forgotten. - </p> - <p> - “We have the box, he has the letter still,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - I could have laughed even at that moment. He had left the box (whether - from haste or heedlessness or malice, we could not tell), but the letter - was on him. Taken alive, he would use that powerful weapon to save his - life or satisfy his anger; if it were found on his body, its evidence - would speak loud and clear to all the world. Again he was protected by his - crime: while he had the letter, he must be kept inviolate from all attack - except at our own hands. We desired his death, but we must be his - body-guard and die in his defense rather than let any other but ourselves - come at him. No open means must be used, and no allies sought. All this - rushed to my mind at Sapt’s words, and I saw what the constable and James - had never forgotten. But what to do I could not see. For the King of - Ruritania lay dead. - </p> - <p> - An hour or more had passed since our discovery, and it was now close on - midnight. Had all gone well we ought by this time to have been far on our - road back to the castle; by this time Rupert must be miles away from where - he had killed the king; already Mr. Rassendyll would be seeking his enemy - in Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - “But what are we to do about—about that, then?” I asked, pointing - with my finger through the doorway towards the bed. - </p> - <p> - Sapt gave a last tug at his moustache, then crossed his hands on the hilt - of the sword between his knees, and leant forward in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, he said,” looking at my face. “Until we have the letter, - nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “But it’s impossible!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, Fritz,” he answered thoughtfully. “It’s not possible yet; it may - become so. But if we can catch Rupert in the next day, or even in the next - two days, it’s not impossible. Only let me have the letter, and I’ll - account for the concealment. What? Is the fact that crimes are known never - concealed, for fear of putting the criminal on his guard?” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll be able to make a story, sir,” James put in, with a grave but - reassuring air. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, James, I shall be able to make a story, or your master will make one - for me. But, by God, story or no story, the letter mustn’t be found. Let - them say we killed him ourselves if they like, but—” - </p> - <p> - I seized his hand and gripped it. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t doubt I’m with you?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Not for a moment, Fritz,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “Then how can we do it?” - </p> - <p> - We drew nearer together; Sapt and I sat, while James leant over Sapt’s - chair. - </p> - <p> - The oil in the lamp was almost exhausted, and the light burnt very dim. - Now and again poor Herbert, for whom our skill could do nothing, gave a - slight moan. I am ashamed to remember how little we thought of him, but - great schemes make the actors in them careless of humanity; the life of a - man goes for nothing against a point in the game. Except for his groans—and - they grew fainter and less frequent—our voices alone broke the - silence of the little lodge. - </p> - <p> - “The queen must know,” said Sapt. “Let her stay at Zenda and give out that - the king is at the lodge for a day or two longer. Then you, Fritz—for - you must ride to the castle at once—and Bernenstein must get to - Strelsau as quick as you can, and find Rudolf Rassendyll. You three ought - to be able to track young Rupert down and get the letter from him. If he’s - not in the city, you must catch Rischenheim, and force him to say where he - is; we know Rischenheim can be persuaded. If Rupert’s there, I need give - no advice either to you or to Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - “And you?” - </p> - <p> - “James and I stay here. If any one comes whom we can keep out, the king is - ill. If rumors get about, and great folk come, why, they must enter.” - </p> - <p> - “But the body?” - </p> - <p> - “This morning, when you’re gone, we shall make a temporary grave. I dare - say two,” and he jerked his thumb towards poor Herbert. - </p> - <p> - “Or even,” he added, with his grim smile, “three—for our friend - Boris, too, must be out of sight.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll bury the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Not so deep but that we can take him out again, poor fellow. Well, Fritz, - have you a better plan?” - </p> - <p> - I had no plan, and I was not in love with Sapt’s plan. Yet it offered us - four and twenty hours. For that time, at least, it seemed as if the secret - could be kept. Beyond that we could hardly hope for success; after that we - must produce the king; dead or alive, the king must be seen. Yet it might - be that before the respite ran out Rupert would be ours. In fine, what - else could be chosen? For now a greater peril threatened than that against - which we had at the first sought to guard. Then the worst we feared was - that the letter should come to the king’s hands. That could never be. But - it would be a worse thing if it were found on Rupert, and all the kingdom, - nay, all Europe, know that it was written in the hand of her who was now, - in her own right, Queen of Ruritania. To save her from that, no chance was - too desperate, no scheme too perilous; yes, if, as Sapt said, we ourselves - were held to answer for the king’s death, still we must go on. I, through - whose negligence the whole train of disaster had been laid, was the last - man to hesitate. In all honesty, I held my life due and forfeit, should it - be demanded of me—my life and, before the world, my honor. - </p> - <p> - So the plan was made. A grave was to be dug ready for the king; if need - arose, his body should be laid in it, and the place chosen was under the - floor of the wine-cellar. When death came to poor Herbert, he could lie in - the yard behind the house; for Boris they meditated a resting-place under - the tree where our horses were tethered. There was nothing to keep me, and - I rose; but as I rose, I heard the forester’s voice call plaintively for - me. The unlucky fellow knew me well, and now cried to me to sit by him. I - think Sapt wanted me to leave him, but I could not refuse his last - request, even though it consumed some precious minutes. He was very near - his end, and, sitting by him, I did my best to soothe his passing. His - fortitude was good to see, and I believe that we all at last found new - courage for our enterprise from seeing how this humble man met death. At - least even the constable ceased to show impatience, and let me stay till I - could close the sufferer’s eyes. - </p> - <p> - But thus time went, and it was nearly five in the morning before I bade - them farewell and mounted my horse. They took theirs and led them away to - the stables behind the lodge; I waved my hand and galloped off on my - return to the castle. Day was dawning, and the air was fresh and pure. The - new light brought new hope; fears seemed to vanish before it; my nerves - were strung to effort and to confidence. My horse moved freely under me - and carried me easily along the grassy avenues. It was hard then to be - utterly despondent, hard to doubt skill of brain, strength of hand, or - fortune’s favor. - </p> - <p> - The castle came in sight, and I hailed it with a glad cry that echoed - among the trees. But a moment later I gave an exclamation of surprise, and - raised myself a little from the saddle while I gazed earnestly at the - summit of the keep. The flag staff was naked; the royal standard that had - flapped in the wind last night was gone. But by immemorial custom the flag - flew on the keep when the king or the queen was at the castle. It would - fly for Rudolf V. no more; but why did it not proclaim and honor the - presence of Queen Flavia? I sat down in my saddle and spurred my horse to - the top of his speed. We had been buffeted by fate sorely, but now I - feared yet another blow. - </p> - <p> - In a quarter of an hour more I was at the door. A servant ran out, and I - dismounted leisurely and easily. Pulling off my gloves, I dusted my boots - with them, turned to the stableman and bade him look to the horse, and - then said to the footman: - </p> - <p> - “As soon as the queen is dressed, find out if she can see me. I have a - message from his Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - The fellow looked a little puzzled, but at this moment Hermann, the king’s - major-domo, came to the door. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t the constable with you, my lord?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “No, the constable remains at the lodge with the king,” said I carelessly, - though I was very far from careless. “I have a message for her Majesty, - Hermann. Find out from some of the women when she will receive me.” - </p> - <p> - “The queen’s not here,” said he. “Indeed we’ve had a lively time, my lord. - At five o’clock she came out, ready dressed, from her room, sent for - Lieutenant von Bernenstein, and announced that she was about to set out - from the castle. As you know, the mail train passes here at six.” Hermann - took out his watch. “Yes, the queen must just have left the station.” - </p> - <p> - “Where for?” I asked, with a shrug for the woman’s whim. “Why, for - Strelsau. She gave no reasons for going, and took with her only one lady, - Lieutenant von Bernenstein being in attendance. It was a bustle, if you - like, with everybody to be roused and got out of bed, and a carriage to be - made ready, and messages to go to the station, and—” - </p> - <p> - “She gave no reasons?” - </p> - <p> - “None, my lord. She left with me a letter to the constable, which she - ordered me to give to his own hands as soon as he arrived at the castle. - She said it contained a message of importance, which the constable was to - convey to the king, and that it must be intrusted to nobody except Colonel - Sapt himself. I wonder, my lord, that you didn’t notice that the flag was - hauled down.” - </p> - <p> - “Tut, man, I wasn’t staring at the keep. Give me the letter.” For I saw - that the clue to this fresh puzzle must lie under the cover of Sapt’s - letter. That letter I must myself carry to Sapt, and without loss of time. - </p> - <p> - “Give you the letter, my lord? But, pardon me, you’re not the constable.” - He laughed a little. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no,” said I, mustering a smile. “It’s true that I’m not the - constable, but I’m going to the constable. I had the king’s orders to - rejoin him as soon as I had seen the queen, and since her Majesty isn’t - here, I shall return to the lodge directly a fresh horse can be saddled - for me. And the constable’s at the lodge. Come, the letter!” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t give it you, my lord. Her Majesty’s orders were positive.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense! If she had known I should come and not the constable, she would - have told me to carry it to him.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know about that, my lord: her orders were plain, and she doesn’t - like being disobeyed.” - </p> - <p> - The stableman had led the horse away, the footman had disappeared, Hermann - and I were alone. “Give me the letter,” I said; and I know that my - self-control failed, and eagerness was plain in my voice. Plain it was, - and Hermann took alarm. He started back, clapping his hand to the breast - of his laced coat. The gesture betrayed where the letter was; I was past - prudence; I sprang on him and wrenched his hand away, catching him by the - throat with my other hand. Diving into his pocket, I got the letter. Then - I suddenly loosed hold of him, for his eyes were starting out of his head. - I took out a couple of gold pieces and gave them to him. - </p> - <p> - “It’s urgent, you fool,” said I. “Hold your tongue about it.” And without - waiting to study his amazed red face, I turned and ran towards the stable. - In five minutes I was on a fresh horse, in six I was clear of the castle, - heading back fast as I could go for the hunting-lodge. Even now Hermann - remembers the grip I gave him—though doubtless he has long spent the - pieces of gold. - </p> - <p> - When I reached the end of this second journey, I came in for the obsequies - of Boris. James was just patting the ground under the tree with a mattock - when I rode up; Sapt was standing by, smoking his pipe. The boots of both - were stained and sticky with mud. I flung myself from my saddle and - blurted out my news. The constable snatched at his letter with an oath; - James leveled the ground with careful accuracy; I do not remember doing - anything except wiping my forehead and feeling very hungry. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord, she’s gone after him!” said Sapt, as he read. Then he handed - me the letter. - </p> - <p> - I will not set out what the queen wrote. The purport seemed to us, who did - not share her feelings, pathetic indeed and moving, but in the end (to - speak plainly) folly. She had tried to endure her sojourn at Zenda, she - said; but it drove her mad. She could not rest; she did not know how we - fared, nor how those in Strelsau; for hours she had lain awake; then at - last falling asleep, she had dreamt. - </p> - <p> - “I had had the same dream before. Now it came again. I saw him so plain. - He seemed to me to be king, and to be called king. But he did not answer - nor move. He seemed dead; and I could not rest.” So she wrote, ever - excusing herself, ever repeating how something drew her to Strelsau, - telling her that she must go if she would see “him whom you know,” alive - again. “And I must see him—ah, I must see him! If the king has had - the letter, I am ruined already. If he has not, tell him what you will or - what you can contrive. I must go. It came a second time, and all so plain. - I saw him; I tell you I saw him. Ah, I must see him again. I swear that I - will only see him once. He’s in danger—I know he’s in danger; or - what does the dream mean? Bernenstein will go with me, and I shall see - him. Do, do forgive me: I can’t stay, the dream was so plain.” Thus she - ended, seeming, poor lady, half frantic with the visions that her own - troubled brain and desolate heart had conjured up to torment her. I did - not know that she had before told Mr. Rassendyll himself of this strange - dream; though I lay small store by such matters, believing that we - ourselves make our dreams, fashioning out of the fears and hopes of to-day - what seems to come by night in the guise of a mysterious revelation. Yet - there are some things that a man cannot understand, and I do not profess - to measure with my mind the ways of God. - </p> - <p> - However, not why the queen went, but that she had gone, concerned us. We - had returned to the house now, and James, remembering that men must eat - though kings die, was getting us some breakfast. In fact, I had great need - of food, being utterly worn out; and they, after their labors, were hardly - less weary. As we ate, we talked; and it was plain to us that I also must - go to Strelsau. There, in the city, the drama must be played out. There - was Rudolf, there Rischenheim, there in all likelihood Rupert of Hentzau, - there now the queen. And of these Rupert alone, or perhaps Rischenheim - also, knew that the king was dead, and how the issue of last night had - shaped itself under the compelling hand of wayward fortune. The king lay - in peace on his bed, his grave was dug; Sapt and James held the secret - with solemn faith and ready lives. To Strelsau I must go to tell the queen - that she was widowed, and to aim the stroke at young Rupert’s heart. - </p> - <p> - At nine in the morning I started from the lodge. I was bound to ride to - Hofbau and there wait for a train which would carry me to the capital. - From Hofbau I could send a message, but the message must announce only my - own coming, not the news I carried. To Sapt, thanks to the cipher, I could - send word at any time, and he bade me ask Mr. Rassendyll whether he should - come to our aid, or stay where he was. - </p> - <p> - “A day must decide the whole thing,” he said. “We can’t conceal the king’s - death long. For God’s sake, Fritz, make an end of that young villain, and - get the letter.” - </p> - <p> - So, wasting no time in farewells, I set out. By ten o’clock I was at - Hofbau, for I rode furiously. From there I sent to Bernenstein at the - palace word of my coming. But there I was delayed. There was no train for - an hour. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll ride,” I cried to myself, only to remember the next moment that, if - I rode, I should come to my journey’s end much later. There was nothing - for it but to wait, and it may be imagined in what mood I waited. Every - minute seemed an hour, and I know not to this day how the hour wore itself - away. I ate, I drank, I smoked, I walked, sat, and stood. The - stationmaster knew me, and thought I had gone mad, till I told him that I - carried most important despatches from the king, and that the delay - imperiled great interests. Then he became sympathetic; but what could he - do? No special train was to be had at a roadside station: I must wait; and - wait, somehow, and without blowing my brains out, I did. - </p> - <p> - At last I was in the train; now indeed we moved, and I came nearer. An - hour’s run brought me in sight of the city. Then, to my unutterable wrath, - we were stopped, and waited motionless twenty minutes or half an hour. At - last we started again; had we not, I should have jumped out and run, for - to sit longer would have driven me mad. Now we entered the station. With a - great effort I calmed myself. I lolled back in my seat; when we stopped I - sat there till a porter opened the door. In lazy leisureliness I bade him - get me a cab, and followed him across the station. He held the door for - me, and, giving him his douceur, I set my foot on the step. - </p> - <p> - “Tell him to drive to the palace,” said I, “and be quick. I’m late - already, thanks to this cursed train.” - </p> - <p> - “The old mare’ll soon take you there, sir,” said the driver. I jumped in. - But at this moment I saw a man on the platform beckoning with his hand and - hastening towards me. The cabman also saw him and waited. I dared not tell - him to drive on, for I feared to betray any undue haste, and it would have - looked strange not to spare a moment to my wife’s cousin, Anton von - Strofzin. He came up, holding out his hand delicately gloved in pearl-gray - kid, for young Anton was a leader of the Strelsau dandies. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my dear Fritz!” said he. “I am glad I hold no appointment at court. - How dreadfully active you all are! I thought you were settled at Zenda for - a month?” - </p> - <p> - “The queen changed her mind suddenly,” said I, smiling. “Ladies do, as you - know well, you who know all about them.” - </p> - <p> - My compliment, or insinuation, produced a pleased smile and a gallant - twirling of his moustache. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I thought you’d be here soon,” he said, “but I didn’t know that the - queen had come.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t? Then why did you look for me?” - </p> - <p> - He opened his eyes a little in languid, elegant surprise. “Oh, I supposed - you’d be on duty, or something, and have to come. Aren’t you in - attendance?” - </p> - <p> - “On the queen? No, not just now.” - </p> - <p> - “But on the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes,” said I, and I leaned forward. “At least I’m engaged now on the - king’s business.” - </p> - <p> - “Precisely,” said he. “So I thought you’d come, as soon as I heard that - the king was here.” - </p> - <p> - It may be that I ought to have preserved my composure. But I am not Sapt - nor Rudolf Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “The king here?” I gasped, clutching him by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “Of course. You didn’t know? Yes, he’s in town.” - </p> - <p> - But I heeded him no more. For a moment I could not speak, then I cried to - the cabman: - </p> - <p> - “To the palace. And drive like the devil!” - </p> - <p> - We shot away, leaving Anton open-mouthed in wonder. For me, I sank back on - the cushions, fairly aghast. The king lay dead in the hunting-lodge, but - the king was in his capital! - </p> - <p> - Of course, the truth soon flashed through my mind, but it brought no - comfort. Rudolf Rassendyll was in Strelsau. He had been seen by somebody - and taken for the king. But comfort? What comfort was there, now that the - king was dead and could never come to the rescue of his counterfeit? - </p> - <p> - In fact, the truth was worse than I conceived. Had I known it all, I might - well have yielded to despair. For not by the chance, uncertain sight of a - passer-by, not by mere rumor which might have been sturdily denied, not by - the evidence of one only or of two, was the king’s presence in the city - known. That day, by the witness of a crowd of people, by his own claim and - his own voice, ay, and by the assent of the queen herself, Mr. Rassendyll - was taken to be the king in Strelsau, while neither he nor Queen Flavia - knew that the king was dead. I must now relate the strange and perverse - succession of events which forced them to employ a resource so dangerous - and face a peril so immense. Yet, great and perilous as they knew the risk - to be even when they dared it, in the light of what they did not know it - was more fearful and more fatal still. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. THE KING IN STRELSAU - </h2> - <p> - MR. RASSENDYLL reached Strelsau from Zenda without accident about nine - o’clock in the evening of the same day as that which witnessed the tragedy - of the hunting-lodge. He could have arrived sooner, but prudence did not - allow him to enter the populous suburbs of the town till the darkness - guarded him from notice. The gates of the city were no longer shut at - sunset, as they had used to be in the days when Duke Michael was governor, - and Rudolf passed them without difficulty. Fortunately the night, fine - where we were, was wet and stormy at Strelsau; thus there were few people - in the streets, and he was able to gain the door of my house still - unremarked. Here, of course, a danger presented itself. None of my - servants were in the secret; only my wife, in whom the queen herself had - confided, knew Rudolf, and she did not expect to see him, since she was - ignorant of the recent course of events. Rudolf was quite alive to the - peril, and regretted the absence of his faithful attendant, who could have - cleared the way for him. The pouring rain gave him an excuse for twisting - a scarf about his face and pulling his coat-collar up to his ears, while - the gusts of wind made the cramming of his hat low down over his eyes no - more than a natural precaution against its loss. Thus masked from curious - eyes, he drew rein before my door, and, having dismounted, rang the bell. - When the butler came a strange hoarse voice, half-stifled by folds of - scarf, asked for the countess, alleging for pretext a message from myself. - The man hesitated, as well he might, to leave the stranger alone with the - door open and the contents of the hall at his mercy. Murmuring an apology - in case his visitor should prove to be a gentleman, he shut the door and - went in search of his mistress. His description of the untimely caller at - once roused my wife’s quick wit; she had heard from me how Rudolf had - ridden once from Strelsau to the hunting-lodge with muffled face; a very - tall man with his face wrapped in a scarf and his hat over his eyes, who - came with a private message, suggested to her at least a possibility of - Mr. Rassendyll’s arrival. Helga will never admit that she is clever, yet I - find she discovers from me what she wants to know, and I suspect hides - successfully the small matters of which she in her wifely discretion deems - I had best remain ignorant. Being able thus to manage me, she was equal to - coping with the butler. She laid aside her embroidery most composedly. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes,” she said, “I know the gentleman. Surely you haven’t left him - out in the rain?” She was anxious lest Rudolf’s features should have been - exposed too long to the light of the hall-lamps. - </p> - <p> - The butler stammered an apology, explaining his fears for our goods and - the impossibility of distinguishing social rank on a dark night. Helga cut - him short with an impatient gesture, crying, “How stupid of you!” and - herself ran quickly down and opened the door—a little way only, - though. The first sight of Mr. Rassendyll confirmed her suspicions; in a - moment, she said, she knew his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “It is you, then?” she cried. “And my foolish servant has left you in the - rain! Pray come in. Oh, but your horse!” She turned to the penitent - butler, who had followed her downstairs. “Take the baron’s horse round to - the stables,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I will send some one at once, my lady.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, take it yourself—take it at once. I’ll look after the - baron.” - </p> - <p> - Reluctantly and ruefully the fat fellow stepped out into the storm. Rudolf - drew back and let him pass, then he entered quickly, to find himself alone - with Helga in the hall. With a finger on her lips, she led him swiftly - into a small sitting-room on the ground floor, which I used as a sort of - office or place of business. It looked out on the street, and the rain - could be heard driving against the broad panes of the window. Rudolf - turned to her with a smile, and, bowing, kissed her hand. - </p> - <p> - “The baron what, my dear countess?” he inquired. - </p> - <p> - “He won’t ask,” said she with a shrug. “Do tell me what brings you here, - and what has happened.” - </p> - <p> - He told her very briefly all he knew. She hid bravely her alarm at hearing - that I might perhaps meet Rupert at the lodge, and at once listened to - what Rudolf wanted of her. - </p> - <p> - “Can I get out of the house, and, if need be, back again unnoticed?” he - asked. - </p> - <p> - “The door is locked at night, and only Fritz and the butler have keys.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Rassendyll’s eye traveled to the window of the room. - </p> - <p> - “I haven’t grown so fat that I can’t get through there,” said he. “So we’d - better not trouble the butler. He’d talk, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “I will sit here all night and keep everybody from the room.” - </p> - <p> - “I may come back pursued if I bungle my work and an alarm is raised.” - </p> - <p> - “Your work?” she asked, shrinking back a little. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said he. “Don’t ask what it is, Countess. It is in the queen’s - service.” - </p> - <p> - “For the queen I will do anything and everything, as Fritz would.” - </p> - <p> - He took her hand and pressed it in a friendly, encouraging way. - </p> - <p> - “Then I may issue my orders?” he asked, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “They shall be obeyed.” - </p> - <p> - “Then a dry cloak, a little supper, and this room to myself, except for - you.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke the butler turned the handle of the door. My wife flew across - the room, opened the door, and, while Rudolf turned his back, directed the - man to bring some cold meat, or whatever could be ready with as little - delay as possible. - </p> - <p> - “Now come with me,” she said to Rudolf, directly the servant was gone. - </p> - <p> - She took him to my dressing-room, where he got dry clothes; then she saw - the supper laid, ordered a bedroom to be prepared, told the butler that - she had business with the baron and that he need not sit up if she were - later than eleven, dismissed him, and went to tell Rudolf that the coast - was clear for his return to the sitting-room. He came, expressing - admiration for her courage and address; I take leave to think that she - deserved his compliments. He made a hasty supper; then they talked - together, Rudolf smoking his cigar. Eleven came and went. It was not yet - time. My wife opened the door and looked out. The hall was dark, the door - locked and its key in the hands of the butler. She closed the door again - and softly locked it. As the clock struck twelve Rudolf rose and turned - the lamp very low. Then he unfastened the shutters noiselessly, raised the - window and looked out. - </p> - <p> - “Shut them again when I’m gone,” he whispered. “If I come back, I’ll knock - like this, and you’ll open for me.” - </p> - <p> - “For heaven’s sake, be careful,” she murmured, catching at his hand. - </p> - <p> - He nodded reassuringly, and crossing his leg over the windowsill, sat - there for a moment listening. The storm was as fierce as ever, and the - street was deserted. He let himself down on to the pavement, his face - again wrapped up. She watched his tall figure stride quickly along till a - turn of the road hid it. Then, having closed the window and the shutters - again, she sat down to keep her watch, praying for him, for me, and for - her dear mistress the queen. For she knew that perilous work was afoot - that night, and did not know whom it might threaten or whom destroy. - </p> - <p> - From the moment that Mr. Rassendyll thus left my house at midnight on his - search for Rupert of Hentzau, every hour and almost every moment brought - its incident in the swiftly moving drama which decided the issues of our - fortune. What we were doing has been told; by now Rupert himself was on - his way back to the city, and the queen was meditating, in her restless - vigil, on the resolve that in a few hours was to bring her also to - Strelsau. Even in the dead of night both sides were active. For, plan - cautiously and skillfully as he might, Rudolf fought with an antagonist - who lost no chances, and who had found an apt and useful tool in that same - Bauer, a rascal, and a cunning rascal, if ever one were bred in the world. - From the beginning even to the end our error lay in taking too little - count of this fellow, and dear was the price we paid. - </p> - <p> - Both to my wife and to Rudolf himself the street had seemed empty of every - living being when she watched and he set out. Yet everything had been - seen, from his first arrival to the moment when she closed the window - after him. At either end of my house there runs out a projection, formed - by the bay windows of the principal drawing-room and of the dining room - respectively. These projecting walls form shadows, and in the shade of one - of them—of which I do not know, nor is it of moment—a man - watched all that passed; had he been anywhere else, Rudolf must have seen - him. If we had not been too engrossed in playing our own hands, it would - doubtless have struck us as probable that Rupert would direct Rischenheim - and Bauer to keep an eye on my house during his absence; for it was there - that any of us who found our way to the city would naturally resort in the - first instance. As a fact, he had not omitted this precaution. The night - was so dark that the spy, who had seen the king but once and never Mr. - Rassendyll, did not recognize who the visitor was, but he rightly - conceived that he should serve his employer by tracking the steps of the - tall man who made so mysterious an arrival and so surreptitious a - departure from the suspected house. Accordingly, as Rudolf turned the - corner and Helena closed the window, a short, thickset figure started - cautiously out of the projecting shadow, and followed in Rudolf’s wake - through the storm. The pair, tracker and tracked, met nobody, save here - and there a police constable keeping a most unwilling beat. Even such were - few, and for the most part more intent on sheltering in the lee of a - friendly wall and thereby keeping a dry stitch or two on them than on - taking note of passers-by. On the pair went. Now Rudolf turned into the - Konigstrasse. As he did so, Bauer, who must have been nearly a hundred - yards behind (for he could not start till the shutters were closed) - quickened his pace and reduced the interval between them to about seventy - yards. This he might well have thought a safe distance on a night so wild, - when the rush of wind and the pelt of the rain joined to hide the sound of - footsteps. - </p> - <p> - But Bauer reasoned as a townsman, and Rudolf Rassendyll had the quick ear - of a man bred in the country and trained to the woodland. All at once - there was a jerk of his head; I know so well the motion which marked - awakened attention in him. He did not pause nor break his stride: to do - either would have been to betray his suspicions to his follower; but he - crossed the road to the opposite side to that where No. 19 was situated, - and slackened his pace a little, so that there was a longer interval - between his own footfalls. The steps behind him grew slower, even as his - did; their sound came no nearer: the follower would not overtake. Now, a - man who loiters on such a night, just because another ahead of him is fool - enough to loiter, has a reason for his action other than what can at first - sight be detected. So thought Rudolf Rassendyll, and his brain was busied - with finding it out. - </p> - <p> - Then an idea seized him, and, forgetting the precautions that had hitherto - served so well, he came to a sudden stop on the pavement, engrossed in - deep thought. Was the man who dogged his steps Rupert himself? It would be - like Rupert to track him, like Rupert to conceive such an attack, like - Rupert to be ready either for a fearless assault from the front or a - shameless shot from behind, and indifferent utterly which chance offered, - so it threw him one of them. Mr. Rassendyll asked no better than to meet - his enemy thus in the open. They could fight a fair fight, and if he fell - the lamp would be caught up and carried on by Sapt’s hand or mine; if he - got the better of Rupert, the letter would be his; a moment would destroy - it and give safety to the queen. I do not suppose that he spent time in - thinking how he should escape arrest at the hands of the police whom the - fracas would probably rouse; if he did, he may well have reckoned on - declaring plainly who he was, of laughing at their surprise over a chance - likeness to the king, and of trusting to us to smuggle him beyond the arm - of the law. What mattered all that, so that there was a moment in which to - destroy the letter? At any rate he turned full round and began to walk - straight towards Bauer, his hand resting on the revolver in the pocket of - his coat. - </p> - <p> - Bauer saw him coming, and must have known that he was suspected or - detected. At once the cunning fellow slouched his head between his - shoulders, and set out along the street at a quick shuffle, whistling as - he went. Rudolf stood still now in the middle of the road, wondering who - the man was: whether Rupert, purposely disguising his gait, or a - confederate, or, after all, some person innocent of our secret and - indifferent to our schemes. On came Bauer, softly, whistling and slushing - his feet carelessly through the liquid mud. Now he was nearly opposite - where Mr. Rassendyll stood. Rudolf was well-nigh convinced that the man - had been on his track: he would make certainty surer. The bold game was - always his choice and his delight; this trait he shared with Rupert of - Hentzau, and hence arose, I think, the strange secret inclination he had - for his unscrupulous opponent. Now he walked suddenly across to Bauer, and - spoke to him in his natural voice, at the same time removing the scarf - partly, but not altogether, from his face. - </p> - <p> - “You’re out late, my friend, for a night like this.” - </p> - <p> - Bauer, startled though he was by the unexpected challenge, had his wits - about him. Whether he identified Rudolf at once, I do not know; I think - that he must at least have suspected the truth. - </p> - <p> - “A lad that has no home to go to must needs be out both late and early, - sir,” said he, arresting his shuffling steps, and looking up with that - honest stolid air which had made a fool of me. - </p> - <p> - I had described him very minutely to Mr. Rassendyll; if Bauer knew or - guessed who his challenger was, Mr. Rassendyll was as well equipped for - the encounter. - </p> - <p> - “No home to go to!” cried Rudolf in a pitying tone. “How’s that? But - anyhow, Heaven forbid that you or any man should walk the streets a night - like this. Come, I’ll give you a bed. Come with me, and I’ll find you good - shelter, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - Bauer shrank away. He did not see the meaning of this stroke, and his eye, - traveling up the street, showed that his thoughts had turned towards - flight. Rudolf gave no time for putting any such notion into effect. - Maintaining his air of genial compassion, he passed his left arm through - Bauer’s right, saying: - </p> - <p> - “I’m a Christian man, and a bed you shall have this night, my lad, as sure - as I’m alive. Come along with me. The devil, it’s not weather for standing - still!” - </p> - <p> - The carrying of arms in Strelsau was forbidden. Bauer had no wish to get - into trouble with the police, and, moreover, he had intended nothing but a - reconnaissance; he was therefore without any weapon, and he was a child in - Rudolf’s grasp. He had no alternative but to obey the suasion of Mr. - Rassendyll’s arm, and they two began to walk down the Konigstrasse. - Bauer’s whistle had died away, not to return; but from time to time Rudolf - hummed softly a cheerful tune, his fingers beating time on Bauer’s captive - arm. Presently they crossed the road. Bauer’s lagging steps indicated that - he took no pleasure in the change of side, but he could not resist. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, you shall go where I am going, my lad,” said Rudolf encouragingly; - and he laughed a little as he looked down at the fellow’s face. - </p> - <p> - Along they went; soon they came to the small numbers at the station end of - the Konigstrasse. Rudolf began to peer up at the shop fronts. - </p> - <p> - “It’s cursed dark,” said he. “Pray, lad, can you make out which is - nineteen?” - </p> - <p> - The moment he had spoken the smile broadened on his face. The shot had - gone home. Bauer was a clever scoundrel, but his nerves were not under - perfect control, and his arm had quivered under Rudolf’s. - </p> - <p> - “Nineteen, sir?” he stammered. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, nineteen. That’s where we’re bound for, you and I. There I hope we - shall find—what we want.” - </p> - <p> - Bauer seemed bewildered: no doubt he was at a loss how either to - understand or to parry the bold attack. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, this looks like it,” said Rudolf, in a tone of great satisfaction, as - they came to old Mother Holf’s little shop. “Isn’t that a one and a nine - over the door, my lad? Ah, and Holf! Yes, that’s the name. Pray ring the - bell. My hands are occupied.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf’s hands were indeed occupied; one held Bauer’s arm, now no longer - with a friendly pressure, but with a grip of iron; in the other the - captive saw the revolver that had till now lain hidden. - </p> - <p> - “You see?” asked Rudolf pleasantly. “You must ring for me, mustn’t you? It - would startle them if I roused them with a shot.” A motion of the barrel - told Bauer the direction which the shot would take. - </p> - <p> - “There’s no bell,” said Bauer sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, then you knock?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose so.” - </p> - <p> - “In any particular way, my friend?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” growled Bauer. - </p> - <p> - “Nor I. Can’t you guess?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I know nothing of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we must try. You knock, and—Listen, my lad. You must guess - right. You understand?” - </p> - <p> - “How can I guess?” asked Bauer, in an attempt at bluster. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I don’t know,” smiled Rudolf. “But I hate waiting, and if the - door is not open in two minutes, I shall arouse the good folk with a shot. - You see? You quite see, don’t you?” Again the barrel’s motion pointed and - explained Mr. Rassendyll’s meaning. - </p> - <p> - Under this powerful persuasion Bauer yielded. He lifted his hand and - knocked on the door with his knuckles, first loudly, then very softly, the - gentler stroke being repeated five times in rapid succession. Clearly he - was expected, for without any sound of approaching feet the chain was - unfastened with a subdued rattle. Then came the noise of the bolt being - cautiously worked back into its socket. As it shot home a chink of the - door opened. At the same moment Rudolf’s hand slipped from Bauer’s arm. - With a swift movement he caught the fellow by the nape of the neck and - flung him violently forward into the roadway, where, losing his footing, - he fell sprawling face downwards in the mud. Rudolf threw himself against - the door: it yielded, he was inside, and in an instant he had shut the - door and driven the bolt home again, leaving Bauer in the gutter outside. - Then he turned, with his hand on the butt of his revolver. I know that he - hoped to find Rupert of Hentzau’s face within a foot of his. - </p> - <p> - Neither Rupert nor Rischenheim, nor even the old woman fronted him: a - tall, handsome, dark girl faced him, holding an oil-lamp in her hand. He - did not know her, but I could have told him that she was old Mother Holf’s - youngest child, Rosa, for I had often seen her as I rode through the town - of Zenda with the king, before the old lady moved her dwelling to - Strelsau. Indeed the girl had seemed to haunt the king’s foot-steps, and - he had himself joked on her obvious efforts to attract his attention, and - the languishing glances of her great black eyes. But it is the lot of - prominent personages to inspire these strange passions, and the king had - spent as little thought on her as on any of the romantic girls who found a - naughty delight in half-fanciful devotion to him—devotion starting, - in many cases, by an irony of which the king was happily unconscious, from - the brave figure that he made at his coronation and his picturesque daring - in the affair of Black Michael. The worshipers never came near enough to - perceive the alteration in their idol. - </p> - <p> - The half then, at least, of Rosa’s attachment was justly due to the man - who now stood opposite to her, looking at her with surprise by the murky - light of the strong-smelling oil-lamp. The lamp shook and almost fell from - her hand when she saw him; for the scarf had slid away, and his features - were exposed to full view. Fright, delight, and excitement vied with one - another in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “The king!” she whispered in amazement. “No, but—” And she searched - his face wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “Is it the beard you miss?” asked Rudolf, fingering his chin. “Mayn’t - kings shave when they please, as well as other men?” Her face still - expressed bewilderment, and still a lingering doubt. He bent towards her, - whispering: - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I wasn’t over-anxious to be known at once.” - </p> - <p> - She flushed with pleasure at the confidence he seemed to put in her. - </p> - <p> - “I should know you anywhere,” she whispered, with a glance of the great - black eyes. “Anywhere, your Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you’ll help me, perhaps?” - </p> - <p> - “With my life.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, my dear young lady, merely with a little information. Whose home - is this?” - </p> - <p> - “My mother’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! She takes lodgers?” - </p> - <p> - The girl appeared vexed at his cautious approaches. “Tell me what you want - to know,” she said simply. - </p> - <p> - “Then who’s here?” - </p> - <p> - “My lord the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim.” - </p> - <p> - “And what’s he doing?” - </p> - <p> - “He’s lying on the bed moaning and swearing, because his wounded arm gives - him pain.” - </p> - <p> - “And is nobody else here?” - </p> - <p> - She looked round warily, and sank her voice to a whisper as she answered: - </p> - <p> - “No, not now—nobody else.” - </p> - <p> - “I was seeking a friend of mine,” said Rudolf. “I want to see him alone. - It’s not easy for a king to see people alone.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you know whom I mean.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. No, he’s gone; but he’s gone to find you.” - </p> - <p> - “To find me! Plague take it! How do you know that, my pretty lady?” - </p> - <p> - “Bauer told me.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Bauer! And who’s Bauer?” - </p> - <p> - “The man who knocked. Why did you shut him out?” - </p> - <p> - “To be alone with you, to be sure. So Bauer tells you his master’s - secrets?” - </p> - <p> - She acknowledged his raillery with a coquettish laugh. It was not amiss - for the king to see that she had her admirers. - </p> - <p> - “Well, and where has this foolish count gone to meet me?” asked Rudolf - lightly. - </p> - <p> - “You haven’t seen him?” - </p> - <p> - “No; I came straight from the Castle of Zenda.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” she cried, “he expected to find you at the hunting lodge. Ah, but - now I recollect! The Count of Rischenheim was greatly vexed to find, on - his return, that his cousin was gone.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, he was gone! Now I see! Rischenheim brought a message from me to - Count Rupert.” - </p> - <p> - “And they missed one another, your Majesty?” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly, my dear young lady. Very vexatious it is, upon my word!” In this - remark, at least, Rudolf spoke no more and no other than he felt. “But - when do you expect the Count of Hentzau?” he pursued. - </p> - <p> - “Early in the morning, your Majesty—at seven or eight.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf came nearer to her, and took a couple of gold coins from his - pocket. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want money, your Majesty,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, make a hole in them and hang them round your neck.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes: yes, give them to me,” she cried, holding out her hand eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll earn them?” he asked, playfully holding them out of her reach. - </p> - <p> - “How?” - </p> - <p> - “By being ready to open to me when I come at eleven and knock as Bauer - knocked.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I’ll be there.” - </p> - <p> - “And by telling nobody that I’ve been here to-night. Will you promise me - that?” - </p> - <p> - “Not my mother?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim?” - </p> - <p> - “Him least of all. You must tell nobody. My business is very private, and - Rischenheim doesn’t know it.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll do all you tell me. But—but Bauer knows.” - </p> - <p> - “True,” said Rudolf. “Bauer knows. Well, we’ll see about Bauer.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke he turned towards the door. Suddenly the girl bent, snatched - at his hand and kissed it. - </p> - <p> - “I would die for you,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Poor child!” said he gently. I believe he was loath to make profit, even - in the queen’s service, of her poor foolish love. He laid his hand on the - door, but paused a moment to say: - </p> - <p> - “If Bauer comes, you have told me nothing. Mind, nothing! I threatened - you, but you told me nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “He’ll tell them you have been here.” - </p> - <p> - “That can’t be helped; at least they won’t know when I shall arrive again. - Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf opened the door and slipped through, closing it hastily behind him. - If Bauer got back to the house, his visit must be known; but if he could - intercept Bauer, the girl’s silence was assured. He stood just outside, - listening intently and searching the darkness with eager eyes. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. WHAT THE CHANCELLOR’S WIFE SAW - </h2> - <p> - THE night, so precious in its silence, solitude, and darkness, was waning - fast; soon the first dim approaches of day would be visible; soon the - streets would become alive and people be about. Before then Rudolf - Rassendyll, the man who bore a face that he dared not show in open day, - must be under cover; else men would say that the king was in Strelsau, and - the news would flash in a few hours through the kingdom and (so Rudolf - feared) reach even those ears which we knew to be shut to all earthly - sounds. But there was still some time at Mr. Rassendyll’s disposal, and he - could not spend it better than in pursuing his fight with Bauer. Taking a - leaf out of the rascal’s own book, he drew himself back into the shadow of - the house walls and prepared to wait. At the worst he could keep the - fellow from communicating with Rischenheim for a little longer, but his - hope was that Bauer would steal back after a while and reconnoitre with a - view to discovering how matters stood, whether the unwelcome visitor had - taken his departure and the way to Rischenheim were open. Wrapping his - scarf closely round his face, Rudolf waited, patiently enduring the tedium - as he best might, drenched by the rain, which fell steadily, and very - imperfectly sheltered from the buffeting of the wind. Minutes went by; - there were no signs of Bauer nor of anybody else in the silent street. Yet - Rudolf did not venture to leave his post; Bauer would seize the - opportunity to slip in; perhaps Bauer had seen him come out, and was in - his turn waiting till the coast should be clear; or, again, perhaps the - useful spy had gone off to intercept Rupert of Hentzau, and warn him of - the danger in the Konigstrasse. Ignorant of the truth and compelled to - accept all these chances, Rudolf waited, still watching the distant - beginnings of dawning day, which must soon drive him to his hiding-place - again. Meanwhile my poor wife waited also, a prey to every fear that a - woman’s sensitive mind can imagine and feed upon. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf turned his head this way and that, seeking always the darker blot - of shadow that would mean a human being. For a while his search was vain, - but presently he found what he looked for—ay, and even more. On the - same side of the street, to his left hand, from the direction of the - station, not one, but three blurred shapes moved up the street. They came - stealthily, yet quickly; with caution, but without pause or hesitation. - Rudolf, scenting danger, flattened himself close against the wall and felt - for his revolver. Very likely they were only early workers or late - revelers, but he was ready for something else; he had not yet sighted - Bauer, and action was to be looked for from the man. By infinitely gradual - sidelong slitherings he moved a few paces from the door of Mother Holf’s - house, and stood six feet perhaps, or eight, on the right-hand side of it. - The three came on. He strained his eyes in the effort to discern their - features. In that dim light certainty was impossible, but the one in the - middle might well be Bauer: the height, the walk, and the make were much - what Bauer’s were. If it were Bauer, then Bauer had friends, and Bauer and - his friends seemed to be stalking some game. Always most carefully and - gradually Rudolf edged yet farther from the little shop. At a distance of - some five yards he halted finally, drew out his revolver, covered the man - whom he took to be Bauer, and thus waited his fortune and his chance. - </p> - <p> - Now, it was plain that Bauer—for Bauer it was—would look for - one of two things: what he hoped was to find Rudolf still in the house, - what he feared was to be told that Rudolf, having fulfilled the unknown - purpose of his visit, was gone whole and sound. If the latter tidings met - him, these two good friends of his whom he had enlisted for his - reinforcement were to have five crowns each and go home in peace; if the - former, they were to do their work and make ten crowns. Years after, one - of them told me the whole story without shame or reserve. What their work - was, the heavy bludgeons they carried and the long knife that one of them - had lent to Bauer showed pretty clearly. - </p> - <p> - But neither to Bauer nor to them did it occur that their quarry might be - crouching near, hunting as well as hunted. Not that the pair of ruffians - who had been thus hired would have hesitated for that thought, as I - imagine. For it is strange, yet certain, that the zenith of courage and - the acme of villainy can alike be bought for the price of a lady’s glove. - Among such outcasts as those from whom Bauer drew his recruits the murder - of a man is held serious only when the police are by, and death at the - hands of him they seek to kill is no more than an every-day risk of their - employment. - </p> - <p> - “Here’s the house,” whispered Bauer, stopping at the door. “Now, I’ll - knock, and you stand by to knock him on the head if he runs out. He’s got - a six-shooter, so lose no time.” - </p> - <p> - “He’ll only fire it in heaven,” growled a hoarse, guttural voice that - ended in a chuckle. - </p> - <p> - “But if he’s gone?” objected the other auxiliary. - </p> - <p> - “Then I know where he’s gone,” answered Bauer. “Are you ready?” - </p> - <p> - A ruffian stood on either side of the door with uplifted bludgeon. Bauer - raised his hand to knock. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf knew that Rischenheim was within, and he feared that Bauer, hearing - that the stranger had gone, would take the opportunity of telling the - count of his visit. The count would, in his turn, warn Rupert of Hentzau, - and the work of catching the ringleader would all fall to be done again. - At no time did Mr. Rassendyll take count of odds against him, but in this - instance he may well have thought himself, with his revolver, a match for - the three ruffians. At any rate, before Bauer had time to give the signal, - he sprang out suddenly from the wall and darted at the fellow. His onset - was so sudden that the other two fell back a pace; Rudolf caught Bauer - fairly by the throat. I do not suppose that he meant to strangle him, but - the anger, long stored in his heart, found vent in the fierce grip of his - fingers. It is certain that Bauer thought his time was come, unless he - struck a blow for himself. Instantly he raised his hand and thrust - fiercely at Rudolf with his long knife. Mr. Rassendyll would have been a - dead man, had he not loosed his hold and sprung lightly away. But Bauer - sprang at him again, thrusting with the knife, and crying to his - associates, - </p> - <p> - “Club him, you fools, club him!” - </p> - <p> - Thus exhorted, one jumped forward. The moment for hesitation had gone. In - spite of the noise of wind and pelting rain, the sound of a shot risked - much; but not to fire was death. Rudolf fired full at Bauer: the fellow - saw his intention and tried to leap behind one of his companions; he was - just too late, and fell with a groan to the ground. - </p> - <p> - Again the other ruffians shrank back, appalled by the sudden ruthless - decision of the act. Mr. Rassendyll laughed. A half smothered yet - uncontrolled oath broke from one of them. “By God!” he whispered hoarsely, - gazing at Rudolf’s face and letting his arm fall to his side. “My God!” he - said then, and his mouth hung open. Again Rudolf laughed at his terrified - stare. - </p> - <p> - “A bigger job than you fancied, is it?” he asked, pushing his scarf well - away from his chin. - </p> - <p> - The man gaped at him; the other’s eyes asked wondering questions, but - neither did he attempt to resume the attack. The first at last found - voice, and he said, “Well, it’d be damned cheap at ten crowns, and that’s - the living truth.” - </p> - <p> - His friend—or confederate rather, for such men have no friends—looked - on, still amazed. - </p> - <p> - “Take up that fellow by his head and his heels,” ordered Rudolf. “Quickly! - I suppose you don’t want the police to find us here with him, do you? - Well, no more do I. Lift him up.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke Rudolf turned to knock at the door of No. 19. But even as he - did so Bauer groaned. Dead perhaps he ought to have been, but it seems to - me that fate is always ready to take the cream and leave the scum. His - leap aside had served him well, after all: he had nearly escaped scot - free. As it was, the bullet, almost missing his head altogether, had just - glanced on his temple as it passed; its impact had stunned, but not - killed. Friend Bauer was in unusual luck that night; I wouldn’t have taken - a hundred to one about his chance of life. Rupert arrested his hand. It - would not do to leave Bauer at the house, if Bauer were likely to regain - speech. He stood for a moment, considering what to do, but in an instant - the thoughts that he tried to gather were scattered again. - </p> - <p> - “The patrol! the patrol!” hoarsely whispered the fellow who had not yet - spoken. There was a sound of the hoofs of horses. Down the street from the - station end there appeared two mounted men. Without a second moment’s - hesitation the two rascals dropped their friend Bauer with a thud on the - ground; one ran at his full speed across the street, the other bolted no - less quickly up the Konigstrasse. Neither could afford to meet the - constables; and who could say what story this red-haired gentleman might - tell, ay, or what powers he might command? - </p> - <p> - But, in truth, Rudolf gave no thought to either his story or his powers. - If he were caught, the best he could hope would be to lie in the lockup - while Rupert played his game unmolested. The device that he had employed - against the amazed ruffians could be used against lawful authority only as - a last and desperate resort. While he could run, run he would. In an - instant he also took to his heels, following the fellow who had darted up - the Konigstrasse. But before he had gone very far, coming to a narrow - turning, he shot down it; then he paused for a moment to listen. - </p> - <p> - The patrol had seen the sudden dispersal of the group, and, struck with - natural suspicion, quickened pace. A few minutes brought them where Bauer - was. They jumped from their horses and ran to him. He was unconscious, and - could, of course, give them no account of how he came to be in his present - state. The fronts of all the houses were dark, the doors shut; there was - nothing to connect the man stretched on the ground with either No. 19 or - any other dwelling. Moreover, the constables were not sure that the - sufferer was himself a meritorious object, for his hand still held a long, - ugly knife. They were perplexed: they were but two; there was a wounded - man to look after; there were three men to pursue, and the three had fled - in three separate directions. They looked up at No. 19; No. 19 remained - dark, quiet, absolutely indifferent. The fugitives were out of sight. - Rudolf Rassendyll, hearing nothing, had started again on his way. But a - minute later he heard a shrill whistle. The patrol were summoning - assistance; the man must be carried to the station, and a report made; but - other constables might be warned of what had happened, and despatched in - pursuit of the culprits. Rudolf heard more than one answering whistle; he - broke into a run, looking for a turning on the left that would take him - back into the direction of my house, but he found none. The narrow street - twisted and curved in the bewildering way that characterizes the old parts - of the town. Rudolf had spent some time once in Strelsau; but a king - learns little of back streets, and he was soon fairly puzzled as to his - whereabouts. Day was dawning, and he began to meet people here and there. - He dared run no more, even had his breath lasted him; winding the scarf - about his face, and cramming his hat over his forehead again, he fell into - an easy walk, wondering whether he could venture to ask his way, relieved - to find no signs that he was being pursued, trying to persuade himself - that Bauer, though not dead, was at least incapable of embarrassing - disclosures; above all, conscious of the danger of his tell-tale face, and - of the necessity of finding some shelter before the city was all stirring - and awake. - </p> - <p> - At this moment he heard horses’ hoofs behind him. He was now at the end of - the street, where it opened on the square in which the barracks stand. He - knew his bearings now, and, had he not been interrupted, could have been - back to safe shelter in my house in twenty minutes. But, looking back, he - saw the figure of a mounted constable just coming into sight behind him. - The man seemed to see Rudolf, for he broke into a quick trot. Mr. - Rassendyll’s position was critical; this fact alone accounts for the - dangerous step into which he allowed himself to be forced. Here he was, a - man unable to give account of himself, of remarkable appearance, and - carrying a revolver, of which one barrel was discharged. And there was - Bauer, a wounded man, shot by somebody with a revolver, a quarter of an - hour before. Even to be questioned was dangerous; to be detained meant - ruin to the great business that engaged his energies. For all he knew, the - patrol had actually sighted him as he ran. His fears were not vain; for - the constable raised his voice, crying, “Hi, sir—you there—stop - a minute!” - </p> - <p> - Resistance was the one thing worse than to yield. Wit, and not force, must - find escape this time. Rudolf stopped, looking round again with a - surprised air. Then he drew himself up with an assumption of dignity, and - waited for the constable. If that last card must be played, he would win - the hand with it. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what do you want?” he asked coldly, when the man was a few yards - from him; and, as he spoke, he withdrew the scarf almost entirely from his - features, keeping it only over his chin. “You call very peremptorily,” he - continued, staring contemptuously. “What’s your business with me?” - </p> - <p> - With a violent start, the sergeant—for such the star on his collar - and the lace on his cuff proclaimed him—leant forward in the saddle - to look at the man whom he had hailed. Rudolf said nothing and did not - move. The man’s eyes studied his face intently. Then he sat bolt upright - and saluted, his face dyed to a deep red in his sudden confusion. - </p> - <p> - “And why do you salute me now?” asked Rudolf in a mocking tone. “First you - hunt me, then you salute me. By Heaven, I don’t know why you put yourself - out at all about me!” - </p> - <p> - “I—I—” the fellow stuttered. Then trying a fresh start, he - stammered, “Your Majesty, I didn’t know—I didn’t suppose—” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf stepped towards him with a quick, decisive tread. - </p> - <p> - “And why do you call me ‘Your Majesty’?” he asked, still mockingly. - </p> - <p> - “It—it—isn’t it your Majesty?” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf was close by him now, his hand on the horse’s neck. - </p> - <p> - He looked up into the sergeant’s face with steady eyes, saying: - </p> - <p> - “You make a mistake, my friend. I am not the king.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not—?” stuttered the bewildered fellow. - </p> - <p> - “By no means. And, sergeant—?” - </p> - <p> - “Your Majesty?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, you mean.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “A zealous officer, sergeant, can make no greater mistake than to take for - the king a gentleman who is not the king. It might injure his prospects, - since the king, not being here, mightn’t wish to have it supposed that he - was here. Do you follow me, sergeant?” - </p> - <p> - The man said nothing, but stared hard. After a moment Rudolf continued: - </p> - <p> - “In such a case,” said he, “a discreet officer would not trouble the - gentleman any more, and would be very careful not to mention that he had - made such a silly mistake. Indeed, if questioned, he would answer without - hesitation that he hadn’t seen anybody even like the king, much less the - king himself.” - </p> - <p> - A doubtful, puzzled little smile spread under the sergeant’s moustache. - </p> - <p> - “You see, the king is not even in Strelsau,” said Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “Not in Strelsau, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, he’s at Zenda.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! At Zenda, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly. It is therefore impossible—physically impossible—that - he should be here.” - </p> - <p> - The fellow was convinced that he understood now. - </p> - <p> - “It’s certainly impossible, sir,” said he, smiling more broadly. - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely. And therefore impossible also that you should have seen him.” - With this Rudolf took a gold piece from his pocket and handed it to the - sergeant. The fellow took it with something like a wink. - </p> - <p> - “As for you, you’ve searched here and found nobody,” concluded Mr. - Rassendyll. “So hadn’t you better at once search somewhere else? - </p> - <p> - “Without doubt, sir,” said the sergeant, and with the most deferential - salute, and another confidential smile, he turned and rode back by the way - he had come. No doubt he wished that he could meet a gentleman who was—not - the king—every morning of his life. It hardly need be said that all - idea of connecting the gentleman with the crime committed in the - Konigstrasse had vanished from his mind. Thus Rudolf won freedom from the - man’s interference, but at a dangerous cost—how dangerous he did not - know. It was indeed most impossible that the king could be in Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - He lost no time now in turning his steps towards his refuge. It was past - five o’clock, day came quickly, and the streets began to be peopled by men - and women on their way to open stalls or to buy in the market. Rudolf - crossed the square at a rapid walk, for he was afraid of the soldiers who - were gathering for early duty opposite to the barracks. Fortunately he - passed by them unobserved, and gained the comparative seclusion of the - street in which my house stands, without encountering any further - difficulties. In truth, he was almost in safety; but bad luck was now to - have its turn. When Mr. Rassendyll was no more than fifty yards from my - door, a carriage suddenly drove up and stopped a few paces in front of - him. The footman sprang down and opened the door. Two ladies got out; they - were dressed in evening costume, and were returning from a ball. One was - middle-aged, the other young and rather pretty. They stood for a moment on - the pavement, the younger saying: - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t it pleasant, mother? I wish I could always be up at five o’clock.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, you wouldn’t like it for long,” answered the elder. “It’s very - nice for a change, but—” - </p> - <p> - She stopped abruptly. Her eye had fallen on Rudolf Rassendyll. He knew - her: she was no less a person than the wife of Helsing the chancellor; his - was the house at which the carriage had stopped. The trick that had served - with the sergeant of police would not do now. She knew the king too well - to believe that she could be mistaken about him; she was too much of a - busybody to be content to pretend that she was mistaken. - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious!” she whispered loudly, and, catching her daughter’s arm, - she murmured, “Heavens, my dear, it’s the king!” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf was caught. Not only the ladies, but their servants were looking at - him. - </p> - <p> - Flight was impossible. He walked by them. The ladies curtseyed, the - servants bowed bare-headed. Rudolf touched his hat and bowed slightly in - return. He walked straight on towards my house; they were watching him, - and he knew it. Most heartily did he curse the untimely hours to which - folks keep up their dancing, but he thought that a visit to my house would - afford as plausible an excuse for his presence as any other. So he went - on, surveyed by the wondering ladies, and by the servants who, smothering - smiles, asked one another what brought his Majesty abroad in such a plight - (for Rudolf’s clothes were soaked and his boots muddy), at such an hour—and - that in Strelsau, when all the world thought he was at Zenda. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf reached my house. Knowing that he was watched he had abandoned all - intention of giving the signal agreed on between my wife and himself and - of making his way in through the window. Such a sight would indeed have - given the excellent Baroness von Helsing matter for gossip! It was better - to let every servant in my house see his open entrance. But, alas, virtue - itself sometimes leads to ruin. My dearest Helga, sleepless and watchful - in the interest of her mistress, was even now behind the shutter, - listening with all her ears and peering through the chinks. No sooner did - Rudolf’s footsteps become audible than she cautiously unfastened the - shutter, opened the window, put her pretty head out, and called softly: - “All’s safe! Come in!” - </p> - <p> - The mischief was done then, for the faces of Helsing’s wife and daughter, - ay, and the faces of Helsing’s servants, were intent on this most strange - spectacle. Rudolf, turning his head over his shoulder, saw them; a moment - later poor Helga saw them also. Innocent and untrained in controlling her - feelings, she gave a shrill little cry of dismay, and hastily drew back. - Rudolf looked round again. The ladies had retreated to the cover of the - porch, but he still saw their eager faces peering from between the pillars - that supported it. - </p> - <p> - “I may as well go in now,” said Rudolf, and in he sprang. There was a - merry smile on his face as he ran forward to meet Helga, who leant against - the table, pale and agitated. - </p> - <p> - “They saw you?” she gasped. - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly,” said he. Then his sense of amusement conquered everything - else, and he sat down in a chair, laughing. - </p> - <p> - “I’d give my life,” said he, “to hear the story that the chancellor will - be waked up to hear in a minute or two from now!” - </p> - <p> - But a moment’s thought made him grave again. For whether he were the king - or Rudolf Rassendyll, he knew that my wife’s name was in equal peril. - Knowing this, he stood at nothing to serve her. He turned to her and spoke - quickly. - </p> - <p> - “You must rouse one of the servants at once. Send him round to the - chancellor’s and tell the chancellor to come here directly. No, write a - note. Say the king has come by appointment to see Fritz on some private - business, but that Fritz has not kept the appointment, and that the king - must now see the chancellor at once. Say there’s not a moment to lose.” - </p> - <p> - She was looking at him with wondering eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you see,” he said, “if I can impose on Helsing, I may stop those - women’s tongues? If nothing’s done, how long do you suppose it’ll be - before all Strelsau knows that Fritz von Tarlenheim’s wife let the king in - at the window at five o’clock in the morning?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t understand,” murmured poor Helga in bewilderment. - </p> - <p> - “No, my dear lady, but for Heaven’s sake do what I ask of you. It’s the - only chance now.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll do it,” she said, and sat down to write. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that, hard on the marvelous tidings which, as I conjecture, - the Baroness von Helsing poured into her husband’s drowsy ears, came an - imperative summons that the chancellor should wait on the king at the - house of Fritz von Tarlenheim. - </p> - <p> - Truly we had tempted fate too far by bringing Rudolf Rassendyll again to - Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. BEFORE THEM ALL! - </h2> - <p> - GREAT as was the risk and immense as were the difficulties created by the - course which Mr. Rassendyll adopted, I cannot doubt that he acted for the - best in the light of the information which he possessed. His plan was to - disclose himself in the character of the king to Helsing, to bind him to - secrecy, and make him impose the same obligation on his wife, daughter, - and servants. The chancellor was to be quieted with the excuse of urgent - business, and conciliated by a promise that he should know its nature in - the course of a few hours; meanwhile an appeal to his loyalty must suffice - to insure obedience. If all went well in the day that had now dawned, by - the evening of it the letter would be destroyed, the queen’s peril past, - and Rudolf once more far away from Strelsau. Then enough of the truth—no - more—must be disclosed. Helsing would be told the story of Rudolf - Rassendyll and persuaded to hold his tongue about the harum-scarum - Englishman (we are ready to believe much of an Englishman) having been - audacious enough again to play the king in Strelsau. The old chancellor - was a very good fellow, and I do not think that Rudolf did wrong in - relying upon him. Where he miscalculated was, of course, just where he was - ignorant. The whole of what the queen’s friends, ay, and the queen - herself, did in Strelsau, became useless and mischievous by reason of the - king’s death; their action must have been utterly different, had they been - aware of that catastrophe; but their wisdom must be judged only according - to their knowledge. - </p> - <p> - In the first place, the chancellor himself showed much good sense. Even - before he obeyed the king’s summons he sent for the two servants and - charged them, on pain of instant dismissal and worse things to follow, to - say nothing of what they had seen. His commands to his wife and daughter - were more polite, doubtless, but no less peremptory. He may well have - supposed that the king’s business was private as well as important when it - led his Majesty to be roaming the streets of Strelsau at a moment when he - was supposed to be at the Castle of Zenda, and to enter a friend’s house - by the window at such untimely hours. The mere facts were eloquent of - secrecy. Moreover, the king had shaved his beard—the ladies were - sure of it—and this, again, though it might be merely an accidental - coincidence, was also capable of signifying a very urgent desire to be - unknown. So the chancellor, having given his orders, and being himself - aflame with the liveliest curiosity, lost no time in obeying the king’s - commands, and arrived at my house before six o’clock. - </p> - <p> - When the visitor was announced Rudolf was upstairs, having a bath and some - breakfast. Helga had learnt her lesson well enough to entertain the - visitor until Rudolf appeared. She was full of apologies for my absence, - protesting that she could in no way explain it; neither could she so much - as conjecture what was the king’s business with her husband. She played - the dutiful wife whose virtue was obedience, whose greatest sin would be - an indiscreet prying into what it was not her part to know. - </p> - <p> - “I know no more,” she said, “than that Fritz wrote to me to expect the - king and him at about five o’clock, and to be ready to let them in by the - window, as the king did not wish the servants to be aware of his - presence.” - </p> - <p> - The king came and greeted Helsing most graciously. The tragedy and comedy - of these busy days were strangely mingled; even now I can hardly help - smiling when I picture Rudolf, with grave lips, but that distant twinkle - in his eye (I swear he enjoyed the sport), sitting down by the old - chancellor in the darkest corner of the room, covering him with flattery, - hinting at most strange things, deploring a secret obstacle to immediate - confidence, promising that to-morrow, at latest, he would seek the advice - of the wisest and most tried of his counselors, appealing to the - chancellor’s loyalty to trust him till then. Helsing, blinking through his - spectacles, followed with devout attention the long narrative that told - nothing, and the urgent exhortation that masked a trick. His accents were - almost broken with emotion as he put himself absolutely at the king’s - disposal, and declared that he could answer for the discretion of his - family and household as completely as for his own. - </p> - <p> - “Then you’re a very lucky man, my dear chancellor,” said Rudolf, with a - sigh which seemed to hint that the king in his palace was not so - fortunate. Helsing was immensely pleased. He was all agog to go and tell - his wife how entirely the king trusted to her honor and silence. - </p> - <p> - There was nothing that Rudolf more desired than to be relieved of the - excellent old fellow’s presence; but, well aware of the supreme importance - of keeping him in a good temper, he would not hear of his departure for a - few minutes. - </p> - <p> - “At any rate, the ladies won’t talk till after breakfast, and since they - got home only at five o’clock they won’t breakfast yet awhile,” said he. - </p> - <p> - So he made Helsing sit down, and talked to him. Rudolf had not failed to - notice that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim had been a little surprised at - the sound of his voice; in this conversation he studiously kept his tones - low, affecting a certain weakness and huskiness such as he had detected in - the king’s utterances, as he listened behind the curtain in Sapt’s room at - the castle. The part was played as completely and triumphantly as in the - old days when he ran the gauntlet of every eye in Strelsau. Yet if he had - not taken such pains to conciliate old Helsing, but had let him depart, he - might not have found himself driven to a greater and even more hazardous - deception. - </p> - <p> - They were conversing together alone. My wife had been prevailed on by - Rudolf to lie down in her room for an hour. Sorely needing rest, she had - obeyed him, having first given strict orders that no member of the - household should enter the room where the two were except on an express - summons. Fearing suspicion, she and Rudolf had agreed that it was better - to rely on these injunctions than to lock the door again as they had the - night before. - </p> - <p> - But while these things passed at my house, the queen and Bernenstein were - on their way to Strelsau. Perhaps, had Sapt been at Zenda, his powerful - influence might have availed to check the impulsive expedition; - Bernenstein had no such authority, and could only obey the queen’s - peremptory orders and pathetic prayers. Ever since Rudolf Rassendyll left - her, three years before, she had lived in stern self-repression, never her - true self, never for a moment able to be or to do what every hour her - heart urged on her. How are these things done? I doubt if a man lives who - could do them; but women live who do them. Now his sudden coming, and the - train of stirring events that accompanied it, his danger and hers, his - words and her enjoyment of his presence, had all worked together to - shatter her self-control; and the strange dream, heightening the emotion - which was its own cause, left her with no conscious desire save to be near - Mr. Rassendyll, and scarcely with a fear except for his safety. As they - journeyed her talk was all of his peril, never of the disaster which - threatened herself, and which we were all striving with might and main to - avert from her head. She traveled alone with Bernenstein, getting rid of - the lady who attended her by some careless pretext, and she urged on him - continually to bring her as speedily as might be to Mr. Rassendyll. I - cannot find much blame for her. Rudolf stood for all the joy in her life, - and Rudolf had gone to fight with the Count of Hentzau. What wonder that - she saw him, as it were, dead? Yet still she would have it that, in his - seeming death, all men hailed him for their king. Well, it was her love - that crowned him. - </p> - <p> - As they reached the city, she grew more composed, being persuaded by - Bernenstein that nothing in her bearing must rouse suspicion. Yet she was - none the less resolved to seek Mr. Rassendyll at once. In truth, she - feared even then to find him dead, so strong was the hold of her dream on - her; until she knew that he was alive she could not rest. Bernenstein, - fearful that the strain would kill her, or rob her of reason, promised - everything; and declared, with a confidence which he did not feel, that - beyond doubt Mr. Rassendyll was alive and well. - </p> - <p> - “But where—where?” she cried eagerly, with clasped hands. - </p> - <p> - “We’re most likely, madam, to find him at Fritz von Tarlenheim’s,” - answered the lieutenant. “He would wait there till the time came to attack - Rupert, or, if the thing is over, he will have returned there.” - </p> - <p> - “Then let us drive there at once,” she urged. - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein, however, persuaded her to go to the palace first and let it - be known there that she was going to pay a visit to my wife. She arrived - at the palace at eight o’clock, took a cup of chocolate, and then ordered - her carriage. Bernenstein alone accompanied her when she set out for my - house about nine. He was, by now, hardly less agitated than the queen - herself. - </p> - <p> - In her entire preoccupation with Mr. Rassendyll, she gave little thought - to what might have happened at the hunting lodge; but Bernenstein drew - gloomy auguries from the failure of Sapt and myself to return at the - proper time. Either evil had befallen us, or the letter had reached the - king before we arrived at the lodge; the probabilities seemed to him to be - confined to these alternatives. Yet when he spoke in this strain to the - queen, he could get from her nothing except, “If we can find Mr. - Rassendyll, he will tell us what to do.” - </p> - <p> - Thus, then, a little after nine in the morning the queen’s carriage drove - up to my door. The ladies of the chancellor’s family had enjoyed a very - short night’s rest, for their heads came bobbing out of window the moment - the wheels were heard; many people were about now, and the crown on the - panels attracted the usual small crowd of loiterers. Bernenstein sprang - out and gave his hand to the queen. With a hasty slight bow to the - onlookers, she hastened up the two or three steps of the porch, and with - her own hand rang the bell. Inside, the carriage had just been observed. - My wife’s waiting-maid ran hastily to her mistress; Helga was lying on her - bed; she rose at once, and after a few moments of necessary preparations - (or such preparations as seem to ladies necessary, however great the need - of haste may be) hurried downstairs to receive her Majesty—and to - warn her Majesty. She was too late. The door was already open. The butler - and the footman both had run to it, and thrown it open for the queen. As - Helga reached the foot of the stairs, her Majesty was just entering the - room where Rudolf was, the servants attending her, and Bernenstein - standing behind, his helmet in his hand. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf and the chancellor had been continuing their conversation. To avoid - the observations of passers-by (for the interior of the room is easy to - see from the street), the blind had been drawn down, and the room was in - deep shadow. They had heard the wheels, but neither of them dreamt that - the visitor could be the queen. It was an utter surprise to them when, - without their orders, the door was suddenly flung open. The chancellor, - slow of movement, and not, if I may say it, over-quick of brain, sat in - his corner for half a minute or more before he rose to his feet. On the - other hand, Rudolf Rassendyll was the best part of the way across the room - in an instant. Helga was at the door now, and she thrust her head round - young Bernenstein’s broad shoulders. Thus she saw what happened. The - queen, forgetting the servants, and not observing Helsing—seeming - indeed to stay for nothing, and to think of nothing, but to have her - thoughts and heart filled with the sight of the man she loved and the - knowledge of his safety—met him as he ran towards her, and, before - Helga, or Bernenstein, or Rudolf himself, could stay her or conceive what - she was about to do, caught both his hands in hers with an intense grasp, - crying: - </p> - <p> - “Rudolf, you’re safe! Thank God, oh, thank God!” and she carried his hands - to her lips and kissed them passionately. - </p> - <p> - A moment of absolute silence followed, dictated in the servants by - decorum, in the chancellor by consideration, in Helga and Bernenstein by - utter consternation. Rudolf himself also was silent, but whether from - bewilderment or an emotion answering to hers, I know not. Either it might - well be. The stillness struck her. She looked up in his eyes; she looked - round the room and saw Helsing, now bowing profoundly from the corner; she - turned her head with a sudden frightened jerk, and glanced at my - motionless deferential servants. Then it came upon her what she had done. - She gave a quick gasp for breath, and her face, always pale, went white as - marble. Her features set in a strange stiffness, and suddenly she reeled - where she stood, and fell forward. Only Rudolf’s hand bore her up. Thus - for a moment, too short to reckon, they stood. Then he, a smile of great - love and pity coming on his lips, drew her to him, and passing his arm - about her waist, thus supported her. Then, smiling still, he looked down - on her, and said in a low tone, yet distinct enough for all to hear: - </p> - <p> - “All is well, dearest.” - </p> - <p> - My wife gripped Bernenstein’s arm, and he turned to find her pale-faced - too, with quivering lips and shining eyes. But the eyes had a message, and - an urgent one, for him. He read it; he knew that it bade him second what - Rudolf Rassendyll had done. He came forward and approached Rudolf; then he - fell on one knee, and kissed Rudolf’s left hand that was extended to him. - </p> - <p> - “I’m very glad to see you, Lieutenant von Bernenstein,” said Rudolf - Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - For a moment the thing was done, ruin averted, and safety secured. - Everything had been at stake; that there was such a man as Rudolf - Rassendyll might have been disclosed; that he had once filled the king’s - throne was a high secret which they were prepared to trust to Helsing - under stress of necessity; but there remained something which must be - hidden at all costs, and which the queen’s passionate exclamation had - threatened to expose. There was a Rudolf Rassendyll, and he had been king; - but, more than all this, the queen loved him and he the queen. That could - be told to none, not even to Helsing; for Helsing, though he would not - gossip to the town, would yet hold himself bound to carry the matter to - the king. So Rudolf chose to take any future difficulties rather than that - present and certain disaster. Sooner than entail it on her he loved, he - claimed for himself the place of her husband and the name of king. And - she, clutching at the only chance that her act left, was content to have - it so. It may be that for an instant her weary, tortured brain found sweet - rest in the dim dream that so it was, for she let her head lie there on - his breast and her eyes closed, her face looking very peaceful, and a soft - little sigh escaping in pleasure from her lips. - </p> - <p> - But every moment bore its peril and exacted its effort. Rudolf led the - queen to a couch, and then briefly charged the servants not to speak of - his presence for a few hours. As they had no doubt perceived, said he, - from the queen’s agitation, important business was on foot; it demanded - his presence in Strelsau, but required also that his presence should not - be known. A short time would free them from the obligation which he now - asked of their loyalty. When they had withdrawn, bowing obedience, he - turned to Helsing, pressed his hand warmly, reiterated his request for - silence, and said that he would summon the chancellor to his presence - again later in the day, either where he was or at the palace. Then he bade - all withdraw and leave him alone for a little with the queen. He was - obeyed; but Helsing had hardly left the house when Rudolf called - Bernenstein back, and with him my wife. Helga hastened to the queen, who - was still sorely agitated; Rudolf drew Bernenstein aside, and exchanged - with him all their news. Mr. Rassendyll was much disturbed at finding that - no tidings had come from Colonel Sapt and myself, but his apprehension was - greatly increased on learning the untoward accident by which the king - himself had been at the lodge the night before. Indeed, he was utterly in - the dark; where the king was, where Rupert, where we were, he did not - know. And he was here in Strelsau, known as the king to half a dozen - people or more, protected only by their promises, liable at any moment to - be exposed by the coming of the king himself, or even by a message from - him. - </p> - <p> - Yet, in face of all perplexities, perhaps even the more because of the - darkness in which he was enveloped, Rudolf held firm to his purpose. There - were two things that seemed plain. If Rupert had escaped the trap and was - still alive with the letter on him, Rupert must be found; here was the - first task. That accomplished, there remained for Rudolf himself nothing - save to disappear as quietly and secretly as he had come, trusting that - his presence could be concealed from the man whose name he had usurped. - Nay, if need were, the king must be told that Rudolf Rassendyll had played - a trick on the chancellor, and, having enjoyed his pleasure, was gone - again. Everything could, in the last resort, be told, save that which - touched the queen’s honor. - </p> - <p> - At this moment the message which I despatched from the station at Hofbau - reached my house. There was a knock at the door. Bernenstein opened it and - took the telegram, which was addressed to my wife. I had written all that - I dared to trust to such a means of communication, and here it is: - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to Strelsau. The king will not leave the lodge to-day. The - count came, but left before we arrived. I do not know whether he has gone - to Strelsau. He gave no news to the king.” - </p> - <p> - “Then they didn’t get him!” cried Bernenstein in deep disappointment. - </p> - <p> - “No, but he gave no news to the king,” said Rudolf triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - They were all standing now round the queen, who sat on the couch. She - seemed very faint and weary, but at peace. It was enough for her that - Rudolf fought and planned for her. - </p> - <p> - “And see this,” Rudolf went on. “‘The king will not leave the lodge - to-day.’ Thank God, then, we have to-day!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but where’s Rupert?” - </p> - <p> - “We shall know in an hour, if he’s in Strelsau,” and Mr. Rassendyll looked - as though it would please him well to find Rupert in Strelsau. “Yes, I - must seek him. I shall stand at nothing to find him. If I can only get to - him as the king, then I’ll be the king. We have to-day!” - </p> - <p> - My message put them in heart again, although it left so much still - unexplained. Rudolf turned to the queen. - </p> - <p> - “Courage, my queen,” said he. “A few hours now will see an end of all our - dangers.” - </p> - <p> - “And then?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Then you’ll be safe and at rest,” said he, bending over her and speaking - softly. “And I shall be proud in the knowledge of having saved you.” - </p> - <p> - “And you?” - </p> - <p> - “I must go,” Helga heard him whisper as he bent lower still, and she and - Bernenstein moved away. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. A KING UP HIS SLEEVE - </h2> - <p> - The tall handsome girl was taking down the shutters from the shop front at - No. 19 in the Konigstrasse. She went about her work languidly enough, but - there was a tinge of dusky red on her cheeks and her eyes were brightened - by some suppressed excitement. Old Mother Holf, leaning against the - counter, was grumbling angrily because Bauer did not come. Now it was not - likely that Bauer would come just yet, for he was still in the infirmary - attached to the police-cells, where a couple of doctors were very busy - setting him on his legs again. The old woman knew nothing of this, but - only that he had gone the night before to reconnoitre; where he was to - play the spy she did not know, on whom perhaps she guessed. - </p> - <p> - “You’re sure he never came back?” she asked her daughter. - </p> - <p> - “He never came back that I saw,” answered the girl. “And I was on the - watch with my lamp here in the shop till it grew light.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s twelve hours gone now, and never a message! Ay, and Count Rupert - should be here soon, and he’ll be in a fine taking if Bauer’s not back.” - </p> - <p> - The girl made no answer; she had finished her task and stood in the - doorway, looking out on the street. It was past eight, and many people - were about, still for the most part humble folk; the more comfortably - placed would not be moving for an hour or two yet. In the road the traffic - consisted chiefly of country carts and wagons, bringing in produce for the - day’s victualling of the great city. The girl watched the stream, but her - thoughts were occupied with the stately gentleman who had come to her by - night and asked a service of her. She had heard the revolver shot outside; - as it sounded she had blown out her lamp, and there behind the door in the - dark had heard the swiftly retreating feet of the fugitives and, a little - later, the arrival of the patrol. Well, the patrol would not dare to touch - the king; as for Bauer, let him be alive or dead: what cared she, who was - the king’s servant, able to help the king against his enemies? If Bauer - were the king’s enemy, right glad would she be to hear that the rogue was - dead. How finely the king had caught him by the neck and thrown him out! - She laughed to think how little her mother knew the company she had kept - that night. - </p> - <p> - The row of country carts moved slowly by. One or two stopped before the - shop, and the carters offered vegetables for sale. The old woman would - have nothing to say to them, but waved them on irritably. Three had thus - stopped and again proceeded, and an impatient grumble broke from the old - lady as a fourth, a covered wagon, drew up before the door. - </p> - <p> - “We don’t want anything: go on, go on with you!” she cried shrilly. - </p> - <p> - The carter got down from his seat without heeding her, and walked round to - the back. - </p> - <p> - “Here you are, sir,” he cried. “Nineteen, Konigstrasse.” - </p> - <p> - A yawn was heard, and the long sigh a man gives as he stretches himself in - the mingled luxury and pain of an awakening after sound refreshing sleep. - </p> - <p> - “All right; I’ll get down,” came in answer from inside. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, it’s the count!” said the old lady to her daughter in satisfied - tones. “What will he say, though, about that rogue Bauer?” - </p> - <p> - Rupert of Hentzau put his head out from under the wagon-tilt, looked up - and down the street, gave the carter a couple of crowns, leapt down, and - ran lightly across the pavement into the little shop. The wagon moved on. - </p> - <p> - “A lucky thing I met him,” said Rupert cheerily. “The wagon hid me very - well; and handsome as my face is, I can’t let Strelsau enjoy too much of - it just now. Well, mother, what cheer? And you, my pretty, how goes it - with you?” He carelessly brushed the girl’s cheek with the glove that he - had drawn off. “Faith, though, I beg your pardon.” he added a moment - later, “the glove’s not clean enough for that,” and he looked at his buff - glove, which was stained with patches of dull rusty brown. - </p> - <p> - “It’s all as when you left, Count Rupert,” said Mother Holf, “except that - that rascal Bauer went out last night—” - </p> - <p> - “That’s right enough. But hasn’t he returned?” - </p> - <p> - “No, not yet.” - </p> - <p> - “Hum. No signs of—anybody else?” His look defined the vague - question. - </p> - <p> - The old woman shook her head. The girl turned away to hide a smile. - “Anybody else” meant the king, so she suspected. Well, they should hear - nothing from her. The king himself had charged her to be silent. - </p> - <p> - “But Rischenheim has come, I suppose?” pursued Rupert. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes; he came, my lord, soon after you went. He wears his arm in a - sling.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” cried Rupert in sudden excitement. “As I guessed! The devil! If only - I could do everything myself, and not have to trust to fools and bunglers! - Where’s the count?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, in the attic. You know the way.” - </p> - <p> - “True. But I want some breakfast, mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Rosa shall serve you at once, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - The girl followed Rupert up the narrow crazy staircase of the tall old - house. They passed three floors, all uninhabited; a last steep flight that - brought them right under the deep arched roof. Rupert opened a door that - stood at the top of the stairs, and, followed still by Rosa with her - mysterious happy smile, entered a long narrow room. The ceiling, high in - the centre, sloped rapidly down on either side, so that at door and window - it was little more than six feet above the floor. There was an oak table - and a few chairs; a couple of iron bedsteads stood by the wall near the - window. One was empty; the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim lay on the other, - fully dressed, his right arm supported in a sling of black silk. Rupert - paused on the threshold, smiling at his cousin; the girl passed on to a - high press or cupboard, and, opening it, took out plates, glasses, and the - other furniture of the table. Rischenheim sprang up and ran across the - room. - </p> - <p> - “What news?” he cried eagerly. “You escaped them, Rupert?” - </p> - <p> - “It appears so,” said Rupert airily; and, advancing into the room, he - threw himself into a chair, tossing his hat on to the table. - </p> - <p> - “It appears that I escaped, although some fool’s stupidity nearly made an - end of me.” Rischenheim flushed. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you about that directly,” he said, glancing at the girl who had - put some cold meat and a bottle of wine on the table, and was now - completing the preparations for Rupert’s meal in a very leisurely fashion. - </p> - <p> - “Had I nothing to do but to look at pretty faces—which, by Heaven, I - wish heartily were the case—I would beg you to stay,” said Rupert, - rising and making her a profound bow. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve no wish to hear what doesn’t concern me,” she retorted scornfully. - </p> - <p> - “What a rare and blessed disposition!” said he, holding the door for her - and bowing again. - </p> - <p> - “I know what I know,” she cried to him triumphantly from the landing. - “Maybe you’d give something to know it too, Count Rupert!” - </p> - <p> - “It’s very likely, for, by Heaven, girls know wonderful things!” smiled - Rupert; but he shut the door and came quickly back to the table, now - frowning again. “Come, tell me, how did they make a fool of you, or why - did you make a fool of me, cousin?” - </p> - <p> - While Rischenheim related how he had been trapped and tricked at the - Castle of Zenda, Rupert of Hentzau made a very good breakfast. He offered - no interruption and no comments, but when Rudolf Rassendyll came into the - story he looked up for an instant with a quick jerk of his head and a - sudden light in his eyes. The end of Rischenheim’s narrative found him - tolerant and smiling again. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, well, the snare was cleverly set,” he said. “I don’t wonder you fell - into it.” - </p> - <p> - “And now you? What happened to you?” asked Rischenheim eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “I? Why, having your message which was not your message, I obeyed your - directions which were not your directions.” - </p> - <p> - “You went to the lodge?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly.” - </p> - <p> - “And you found Sapt there?—Anybody else?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, not Sapt at all.” - </p> - <p> - “Not Sapt? But surely they laid a trap for you?” - </p> - <p> - “Very possibly, but the jaws didn’t bite.” Rupert crossed his legs and lit - a cigarette. - </p> - <p> - “But what did you find?” - </p> - <p> - “I? I found the king’s forester, and the king’s boar-hound, and—well, - I found the king himself, too.” - </p> - <p> - “The king at the lodge?” - </p> - <p> - “You weren’t so wrong as you thought, were you?” - </p> - <p> - “But surely Sapt, or Bernenstein, or some one was with him?” - </p> - <p> - “As I tell you, his forester and his boar-hound. No other man or beast, on - my honor.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you gave him the letter?” cried Rischenheim, trembling with - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Alas, no, my dear cousin. I threw the box at him, but I don’t think he - had time to open it. We didn’t get to that stage of the conversation at - which I had intended to produce the letter.” - </p> - <p> - “But why not—why not?” - </p> - <p> - Rupert rose to his feet, and, coming just opposite to where Rischenheim - sat, balanced himself on his heels, and looked down at his cousin, blowing - the ash from his cigarette and smiling pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - “Have you noticed,” he asked, “that my coat’s torn?” - </p> - <p> - “I see it is.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. The boar-hound tried to bite me, cousin. And the forester would have - stabbed me. And—well, the king wanted to shoot me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes! For God’s sake, what happened?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, they none of them did what they wanted. That’s what happened, dear - cousin.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim was staring at him now with wide-opened eyes. Rupert smiled - down on him composedly. - </p> - <p> - “Because, you see,” he added, “Heaven helped me. So that, my dear cousin, - the dog will bite no more, and the forester will stab no more. Surely the - country is well rid of them?” - </p> - <p> - A silence followed. Then Rischenheim, leaning forward, said in a low - whisper, as though afraid to hear his own question: - </p> - <p> - “And the king?” - </p> - <p> - “The king? Well, the king will shoot no more.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment Rischenheim, still leaning forward, gazed at his cousin. Then - he sank slowly back into his chair. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” he murmured: “my God!” - </p> - <p> - “The king was a fool,” said Rupert. “Come, I’ll tell you a little more - about it.” He drew a chair up and seated himself in it. - </p> - <p> - While he talked Rischenheim seemed hardly to listen. The story gained in - effect from the contrast of Rupert’s airy telling; his companion’s pale - face and twitching hands tickled his fancy to more shameless jesting. But - when he had finished, he gave a pull to his small smartly-curled moustache - and said with a sudden gravity: - </p> - <p> - “After all, though, it’s a serious matter.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim was appalled at the issue. His cousin’s influence had been - strong enough to lead him into the affair of the letter; he was aghast to - think how Rupert’s reckless dare-deviltry had led on from stage to stage - till the death of a king seemed but an incident in his schemes. He sprang - suddenly to his feet, crying: - </p> - <p> - “But we must fly—we must fly!” - </p> - <p> - “No, we needn’t fly. Perhaps we’d better go, but we needn’t fly.” - </p> - <p> - “But when it becomes known?” He broke off and then cried: - </p> - <p> - “Why did you tell me? Why did you come back here?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I told you because it was interesting, and I came back here because - I had no money to go elsewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “I would have sent money.” - </p> - <p> - “I find that I get more when I ask in person. Besides, is everything - finished?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll have no more to do with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my dear cousin, you despond too soon. The good king has unhappily - gone from us, but we still have our dear queen. We have also, by the - kindness of Heaven, our dear queen’s letter.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll have no more to do with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Your neck feeling—?” Rupert delicately imitated the putting of a - noose about a man’s throat. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim rose suddenly and flung the window open wide. - </p> - <p> - “I’m suffocated,” he muttered with a sullen frown, avoiding Rupert’s eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Rudolf Rassendyll?” asked Rupert. “Have you heard of him?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don’t know where he is.” - </p> - <p> - “We must find that out, I think.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim turned abruptly on him. - </p> - <p> - “I had no hand in this thing,” he said, “and I’ll have no more to do with - it. I was not there. What did I know of the king being there? I’m not - guilty of it: on my soul, I know nothing of it.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all very true,” nodded Rupert. - </p> - <p> - “Rupert,” cried he, “let me go, let me alone. If you want money, I’ll give - it to you. For God’s sake take it, and get out of Strelsau!” - </p> - <p> - “I’m ashamed to beg, my dear cousin, but in fact I want a little money - until I can contrive to realize my valuable property. Is it safe, I - wonder? Ah, yes, here it is.” - </p> - <p> - He drew from his inner pocket the queen’s letter. “Now if the king hadn’t - been a fool!” he murmured regretfully, as he regarded it. - </p> - <p> - Then he walked across to the window and looked out; he could not himself - be seen from the street, and nobody was visible at the windows opposite. - Men and women passed to and fro on their daily labors or pleasures; there - was no unusual stir in the city. Looking over the roofs, Rupert could see - the royal standard floating in the wind over the palace and the barracks. - He took out his watch; Rischenheim imitated his action; it was ten minutes - to ten. - </p> - <p> - “Rischenheim,” he called, “come here a moment. Here—look out.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim obeyed, and Rupert let him look for a minute or two before - speaking again. - </p> - <p> - “Do you see anything remarkable?” he asked then. - </p> - <p> - “No, nothing,” answered Rischenheim, still curt and sullen in his fright. - </p> - <p> - “Well, no more do I. And that’s very odd. For don’t you think that Sapt or - some other of her Majesty’s friends must have gone to the lodge last - night?” - </p> - <p> - “They meant to, I swear,” said Rischenheim with sudden attention. - </p> - <p> - “Then they would have found the king. There’s a telegraph wire at Hofbau, - only a few miles away. And it’s ten o’clock. My cousin, why isn’t Strelsau - mourning for our lamented king? Why aren’t the flags at half-mast? I don’t - understand it.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” murmured Rischenheim, his eyes now fixed on his cousin’s face. - </p> - <p> - Rupert broke into a smile and tapped his teeth with his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” said he meditatively, “if that old player Sapt has got a king - up his sleeve again! If that were so—” He stopped and seemed to fall - into deep thought. Rischenheim did not interrupt him, but stood looking - now at him, now out of the window. Still there was no stir in the streets, - and still the standards floated at the summit of the flag staffs. The - king’s death was not yet known in Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Bauer?” asked Rupert suddenly. “Where the plague can Bauer be? He - was my eyes. Here we are, cooped up, and I don’t know what’s going on.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know where he is. Something must have happened to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, my wise cousin. But what?” - </p> - <p> - Rupert began to pace up and down the room, smoking another cigarette at a - great pace. Rischenheim sat down by the table, resting his head on his - hand. He was wearied out by strain and excitement, his wounded arm pained - him greatly, and he was full of horror and remorse at the event which - happened unknown to him the night before. - </p> - <p> - “I wish I was quit of it,” he moaned at last. Rupert stopped before him. - </p> - <p> - “You repent of your misdeeds?” he asked. “Well, then, you shall be allowed - to repent. Nay, you shall go and tell the king that you repent. - Rischenheim, I must know what they are doing. You must go and ask an - audience of the king.” - </p> - <p> - “But the king is—” - </p> - <p> - “We shall know that better when you’ve asked for your audience. See here.” - </p> - <p> - Rupert sat down by his cousin and instructed him in his task. This was no - other than to discover whether there were a king in Strelsau, or whether - the only king lay dead in the hunting lodge. If there were no attempt - being made to conceal the king’s death, Rupert’s plan was to seek safety - in flight. He did not abandon his designs: from the secure vantage of - foreign soil he would hold the queen’s letter over her head, and by the - threat of publishing it insure at once immunity for himself and almost any - further terms which he chose to exact from her. If, on the other hand, the - Count of Luzau-Rischenheim found a king in Strelsau, if the royal - standards continued to wave at the summit of their flag staffs, and - Strelsau knew nothing of the dead man in the lodge, then Rupert had laid - his hand on another secret; for he knew who the king in Strelsau must be. - Starting from this point, his audacious mind darted forward to new and - bolder schemes. He could offer again to Rudolf Rassendyll what he had - offered once before, three years ago—a partnership in crime and the - profits of crime—or if this advance were refused, then he declared - that he would himself descend openly into the streets of Strelsau and - proclaim the death of the king from the steps of the cathedral. - </p> - <p> - “Who can tell,” he cried, springing up, enraptured and merry with the - inspiration of his plan, “who can tell whether Sapt or I came first to the - lodge? Who found the king alive, Sapt or I? Who left him dead, Sapt or I? - Who had most interest in killing him—I, who only sought to make him - aware of what touched his honor, or Sapt, who was and is hand and glove - with the man that now robs him of his name and usurps his place while his - body is still warm? Ah, they haven’t done with Rupert of Hentzau yet!” - </p> - <p> - He stopped, looking down on his companion. Rischenheim’s fingers still - twitched nervously and his cheeks were pale. But now his face was alight - with interest and eagerness. Again the fascination of Rupert’s audacity - and the infection of his courage caught on his kinsman’s weaker nature, - and inspired him to a temporary emulation of the will that dominated him. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” pursued Rupert, “it’s not likely that they’ll do you any harm.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll risk anything.” - </p> - <p> - “Most gallant gentleman! At the worst they’ll only keep you a prisoner. - Well, if you’re not back in a couple of hours, I shall draw my - conclusions. I shall know that there’s a king in Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “But where shall I look for the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, first in the palace, and secondly at Fritz von Tarlenheim’s. I - expect you’ll find him at Fritz’s, though.” - </p> - <p> - “Shall I go there first, then?” - </p> - <p> - “No. That would be seeming to know too much.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll wait here?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, cousin—unless I see cause to move, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “And I shall find you on my return?” - </p> - <p> - “Me, or directions from me. By the way, bring money too. There’s never any - harm in having a full pocket. I wonder what the devil does without a - breeches-pocket?” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim let that curious speculation alone, although he remembered the - whimsical air with which Rupert delivered it. He was now on fire to be - gone, his ill-balanced brain leaping from the depths of despondency to the - certainty of brilliant success, and not heeding the gulf of danger that it - surpassed in buoyant fancy. - </p> - <p> - “We shall have them in a corner, Rupert,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, perhaps. But wild beasts in a corner bite hard.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish my arm were well!” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll be safer with it wounded,” said Rupert with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “By God, Rupert, I can defend myself.” - </p> - <p> - “True, true; but it’s your brain I want now, cousin.” - </p> - <p> - “You shall see that I have something in me.” - </p> - <p> - “If it please God, dear cousin.” - </p> - <p> - With every mocking encouragement and every careless taunt Rischenheim’s - resolve to prove himself a man grew stronger. He snatched up a revolver - that lay on the mantelpiece and put it in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t fire, if you can help it,” advised Rupert. Rischenheim’s answer was - to make for the door at a great speed. Rupert watched him go, and then - returned to the window. The last his cousin saw was his figure standing - straight and lithe against the light, while he looked out on the city. - Still there was no stir in the streets, still the royal standard floated - at the top of the flag staffs. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim plunged down the stairs: his feet were too slow for his - eagerness. At the bottom he found the girl Rosa sweeping the passage with - great apparent diligence. - </p> - <p> - “You’re going out, my lord?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes; I have business. Pray stand on one side, this passage is so - cursedly narrow.” - </p> - <p> - Rosa showed no haste in moving. - </p> - <p> - “And the Count Rupert, is he going out also?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “You see he’s not with me. He’ll wait.” Rischenheim broke off and asked - angrily: “What business is it of yours, girl? Get out of the way!” - </p> - <p> - She moved aside now, making him no answer. He rushed past; she looked - after him with a smile of triumph. Then she fell again to her sweeping. - The king had bidden her be ready at eleven. It was half-past ten. Soon the - king would have need of her. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. THE NEWS COMES TO STRELSAU - </h2> - <p> - ON leaving No. 19, Rischenheim walked swiftly some little way up the - Konigstrasse and then hailed a cab. He had hardly raised his hand when he - heard his name called, and, looking round, saw Anton von Strofzin’s smart - phaeton pulling up beside him. Anton was driving, and on the other seat - was a large nosegay of choice flowers. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you off to?” cried Anton, leaning forward with a gay smile. - </p> - <p> - “Well, where are you? To a lady’s, I presume, from your bouquet there,” - answered Rischenheim as lightly as he could. - </p> - <p> - “The little bunch of flowers,” simpered young Anton, “is a cousinly - offering to Helga von Tarlenheim, and I’m going to present it. Can I give - you a lift anywhere?”’ - </p> - <p> - Although Rischenheim had intended to go first to the palace, Anton’s offer - seemed to give him a good excuse for drawing the more likely covert first. - </p> - <p> - “I was going to the palace to find out where the king is. I want to see - him, if he’ll give me a minute or two,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll drive you there afterwards. Jump up. That your cab? Here you are, - cabman,” and flinging the cabman a crown, he displaced the bouquet and - made room for Rischenheim beside him. - </p> - <p> - Anton’s horses, of which he was not a little proud, made short work of the - distance to my home. The phaeton rattled up to the door and both young men - got out. The moment of their arrival found the chancellor just leaving to - return to his own home. Helsing knew them both, and stopped to rally Anton - on the matter of his bouquet. Anton was famous for his bouquets, which he - distributed widely among the ladies of Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - “I hoped it was for my daughter,” said the chancellor slyly. “For I love - flowers, and my wife has ceased to provide me with them; moreover, I’ve - ceased to provide her with them, so, but for my daughter, we should have - none.” - </p> - <p> - Anton answered his chaff, promising a bouquet for the young lady the next - day, but declaring that he could not disappoint his cousin. He was - interrupted by Rischenheim, who, looking round on the group of bystanders, - now grown numerous, exclaimed: “What’s going on here, my dear chancellor? - What are all these people hanging about here for? Ah, that’s a royal - carriage!” - </p> - <p> - “The queen’s with the countess,” answered Helsing. “The people are waiting - to see her come out.” - </p> - <p> - “She’s always worth seeing,” Anton pronounced, sticking his glass in his - eye. - </p> - <p> - “And you’ve been to visit her?” pursued Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes. I—I went to pay my respects, my dear Rischenheim.” - </p> - <p> - “An early visit!” - </p> - <p> - “It was more or less on business.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I have business also, and very important business. But it’s with the - king.” - </p> - <p> - “I won’t keep you a moment, Rischenheim,” called Anton, as, bouquet in - hand, he knocked at the door. - </p> - <p> - “With the king?” said Helsing. “Ah, yes, but the king—” - </p> - <p> - “I’m on my way to the palace to find out where he is. If I can’t see him, - I must write at once. My business is very urgent.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, my dear count, indeed! Dear me! Urgent, you say?” - </p> - <p> - “But perhaps you can help me. Is he at Zenda?” - </p> - <p> - The chancellor was becoming very embarrassed; Anton had disappeared into - the house; Rischenheim buttonholed him resolutely. - </p> - <p> - “At Zenda? Well, now, I don’t—Excuse me, but what’s your business?” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, my dear chancellor; it’s a secret.” - </p> - <p> - “I have the king’s confidence.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you’ll be indifferent to not enjoying mine,” smiled Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - “I perceive that your arm is hurt,” observed the chancellor, seeking a - diversion. - </p> - <p> - “Between ourselves, that has something to do with my business. Well, I - must go to the palace. Or—stay—would her Majesty condescend to - help me? I think I’ll risk a request. She can but refuse,” and so saying - Rischenheim approached the door. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my friend, I wouldn’t do that,” cried Helsing, darting after him. - “The queen is—well, very much engaged. She won’t like to be - troubled.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim took no notice of him, but knocked loudly. The door was - opened, and he told the butler to carry his name to the queen and beg a - moment’s speech with her. Helsing stood in perplexity on the step. The - crowd was delighted with the coming of these great folk and showed no sign - of dispersing. Anton von Strofzin did not reappear. Rischenheim edged - himself inside the doorway and stood on the threshold of the hall. There - he heard voices proceeding from the sitting-room on the left. He - recognized the queen’s, my wife’s, and Anton’s. Then came the butler’s, - saying, “I will inform the count of your Majesty’s wishes.” - </p> - <p> - The door of the room opened; the butler appeared, and immediately behind - him Anton von Strofzin and Bernenstein. Bernenstein had the young fellow - by the arm, and hurried him through the hall. They passed the butler, who - made way for them, and came to where Rischenheim stood. - </p> - <p> - “We meet again,” said Rischenheim with a bow. - </p> - <p> - The chancellor rubbed his hands in nervous perturbation. The butler - stepped up and delivered his message: the queen regretted her inability to - receive the count. Rischenheim nodded, and, standing so that the door - could not be shut, asked Bernenstein whether he knew where the king was. - </p> - <p> - Now Bernenstein was most anxious to get the pair of them away and the door - shut, but he dared show no eagerness. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want another interview with the king already?” he asked with a - smile. “The last was so pleasant, then?” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim took no notice of the taunt, but observed sarcastically: - “There’s a strange difficulty in finding our good king. The chancellor - here doesn’t know where he is, or at least he won’t answer my questions.” - </p> - <p> - “Possibly the king has his reasons for not wishing to be disturbed,” - suggested Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “It’s very possible,” retorted Rischenheim significantly. - </p> - <p> - “Meanwhile, my dear count, I shall take it as a personal favor if you’ll - move out of the doorway.” - </p> - <p> - “Do I incommode you by standing here?” answered the count. - </p> - <p> - “Infinitely, my lord,” answered Bernenstein stiffly. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo, Bernenstein, what’s the matter?” cried Anton, seeing that their - tones and glances had grown angry. The crowd also had noticed the raised - voices and hostile manner of the disputants, and began to gather round in - a more compact group. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a voice came from inside the hall: it was distinct and loud, yet - not without a touch of huskiness. The sound of it hushed the rising - quarrel and silenced the crowd into expectant stillness. Bernenstein - looked aghast, Rischenheim nervous yet triumphant, Anton amused and - gratified. - </p> - <p> - “The king!” he cried, and burst into a laugh. “You’ve drawn him, - Rischenheim!” - </p> - <p> - The crowd heard his boyish exclamation and raised a cheer. Helsing turned, - as though to rebuke them. Had not the king himself desired secrecy? Yes, - but he who spoke as the king chose any risk sooner than let Rischenheim go - back and warn Rupert of his presence. - </p> - <p> - “Is that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim?” called Rudolf from within. “If - so, let him enter and then shut the door.” - </p> - <p> - There was something in his tone that alarmed Rischenheim. He started back - on the step. But Bernenstein caught him by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “Since you wish to come in, come in,” he said with a grim smile. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked round, as though he meditated flight. The next moment - Bernenstein was thrust aside. For one short instant a tall figure appeared - in the doorway; the crowd had but a glimpse, yet they cheered again. - Rischenheim’s hand was clasped in a firm grip; he passed unwillingly but - helplessly through the door. Bernenstein followed; the door was shut. - Anton faced round on Helsing, a scornful twist on his lips. - </p> - <p> - “There was a deuced lot of mystery about nothing,” said he. “Why couldn’t - you say he was there?” And without waiting for an answer from the outraged - and bewildered chancellor he swung down the steps and climbed into his - phaeton. - </p> - <p> - The people round were chatting noisily, delighted to have caught a glimpse - of the king, speculating what brought him and the queen to my house, and - hoping that they would soon come out and get into the royal carriage that - still stood waiting. - </p> - <p> - Had they been able to see inside the door, their emotion would have been - stirred to a keener pitch. Rudolf himself caught Rischenheim by the arm, - and without a moment’s delay led him towards the back of the house. They - went along a passage and reached a small room that looked out on the - garden. Rudolf had known my house in old days, and did not forget its - resources. - </p> - <p> - “Shut the door, Bernenstein,” said Rudolf. Then he turned to Rischenheim. - “My lord,” he said, “I suppose you came to find out something. Do you know - it now?” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim plucked up courage to answer him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know now that I have to deal with an impostor,” said he defiantly. - </p> - <p> - “Precisely. And impostors can’t afford to be exposed.” Rischenheim’s cheek - turned rather pale. Rudolf faced him, and Bernenstein guarded the door. He - was absolutely at their mercy; and he knew their secret. Did they know his—the - news that Rupert of Hentzau had brought? - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” said Rudolf. “For a few hours to-day I am king in Strelsau. In - those few hours I have an account to settle with your cousin: something - that he has, I must have. I’m going now to seek him, and while I seek him - you will stay here with Bernenstein. Perhaps I shall fail, perhaps I shall - succeed. Whether I succeed or fail, by to-night I shall be far from - Strelsau, and the king’s place will be free for him again.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim gave a slight start, and a look of triumph spread over his - face. They did not know that the king was dead. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf came nearer to him, fixing his eyes steadily on his prisoner’s - face. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” he continued, “why you are in this business, my lord. Your - cousin’s motives I know well. But I wonder that they seemed to you great - enough to justify the ruin of an unhappy lady who is your queen. Be - assured that I will die sooner than let that letter reach the king’s - hand.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim made him no answer. - </p> - <p> - “Are you armed?” asked Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim sullenly flung his revolver on the table. Bernenstein came - forward and took it. - </p> - <p> - “Keep him here, Bernenstein. When I return I’ll tell you what more to do. - If I don’t return, Fritz will be here soon, and you and he must make your - own plans.” - </p> - <p> - “He sha’n’t give me the slip a second time,” said Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “We hold ourselves free,” said Rudolf to Rischenheim, “to do what we - please with you, my lord. But I have no wish to cause your death, unless - it be necessary. You will be wise to wait till your cousin’s fate is - decided before you attempt any further steps against us.” And with a - slight bow he left the prisoner in Bernenstein’s charge, and went back to - the room where the queen awaited him. Helga was with her. The queen sprang - up to meet him. - </p> - <p> - “I mustn’t lose a moment,” he said. “All that crowd of people know now - that the king is here. The news will filter through the town in no time. - We must send word to Sapt to keep it from the king’s ears at all costs: I - must go and do my work, and then disappear.” - </p> - <p> - The queen stood facing him. Her eyes seemed to devour his face; but she - said only: “Yes, it must be so.” - </p> - <p> - “You must return to the palace as soon as I am gone. I shall send out and - ask the people to disperse, and then I must be off.” - </p> - <p> - “To seek Rupert of Hentzau?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - She struggled for a moment with the contending feelings that filled her - heart. Then she came to him and seized hold of his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t go,” she said in low trembling tones. “Don’t go, Rudolf. He’ll kill - you. Never mind the letter. Don’t go: I had rather a thousand times that - the king had it than that you should.... Oh, my dear, don’t go!” - </p> - <p> - “I must go,” he said softly. - </p> - <p> - Again she began to implore him, but he would not yield. Helga moved - towards the door, but Rudolf stopped her. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said; “you must stay with her; you must go to the palace with - her.” - </p> - <p> - Even as he spoke they heard the wheels of a carriage driven quickly to the - door. By now I had met Anton von Strofzin and heard from him that the king - was at my house. As I dashed up the news was confirmed by the comments and - jokes of the crowd. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, he’s in a hurry,” they said. “He’s kept the king waiting. He’ll get a - wigging.” - </p> - <p> - As may be supposed, I paid little heed to them. I sprang out and ran up - the steps to the door. I saw my wife’s face at the window: she herself ran - to the door and opened it for me. - </p> - <p> - “Good God,” I whispered, “do all these people know he’s here, and take him - for the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said. “We couldn’t help it. He showed himself at the door.” - </p> - <p> - It was worse than I dreamt: not two or three people, but all that crowd - were victims of the mistake; all of them had heard that the king was in - Strelsau—ay, and had seen him. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he? Where is he?” I asked, and followed her hastily to the room. - </p> - <p> - The queen and Rudolf were standing side by side. What I have told from - Helga’s description had just passed between them. Rudolf ran to meet me. - </p> - <p> - “Is all well?” he asked eagerly. - </p> - <p> - I forgot the queen’s presence and paid no sign of respect to her. I caught - Rudolf by the arm and cried to him: “Do they take you for the king?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. “Heavens, man, don’t look so white! We shall manage it. I - can be gone by to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Gone? How will that help, since they believe you to be the king?” - </p> - <p> - “You can keep it from the king,” he urged. “I couldn’t help it. I can - settle with Rupert and disappear.” - </p> - <p> - The three were standing round me, surprised at my great and terrible - agitation. Looking back now, I wonder that I could speak to them at all. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf tried again to reassure me. He little knew the cause of what he - saw. - </p> - <p> - “It won’t take long to settle affairs with Rupert,” said he. “And we must - have the letter, or it will get to the king after all.” - </p> - <p> - “The king will never see the letter,” I blurted out, as I sank back in a - chair. - </p> - <p> - They said nothing. I looked round on their faces. I had a strange feeling - of helplessness, and seemed to be able to do nothing but throw the truth - at them in blunt plainness. Let them make what they could of it, I could - make nothing. - </p> - <p> - “The king will never see the letter,” I repeated. “Rupert himself has - insured that.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean? You’ve not met Rupert? You’ve not got the letter?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no; but the king can never read it.” - </p> - <p> - Then Rudolf seized me by the shoulder and fairly shook me; indeed I must - have seemed like a man in a dream or a torpor. - </p> - <p> - “Why not, man; why not?” he asked in urgent low tones. Again I looked at - them, but somehow this time my eyes were attracted and held by the queen’s - face. I believe that she was the first to catch a hint of the tidings I - brought. Her lips were parted, and her gaze eagerly strained upon me. I - rubbed my hand across my forehead, and, looking up stupidly at her, I - said: - </p> - <p> - “He never can see the letter. He’s dead.” - </p> - <p> - There was a little scream from Helga; Rudolf neither spoke nor moved; the - queen continued to gaze at me in motionless wonder and horror. - </p> - <p> - “Rupert killed him,” said I. “The boar-hound attacked Rupert; then Herbert - and the king attacked him; and he killed them all. Yes, the king is dead. - He’s dead.” - </p> - <p> - Now none spoke. The queen’s eyes never left my face. “Yes, he’s dead.” - said I; and I watched her eyes still. For a long while (or long it seemed) - they were on my face; at last, as though drawn by some irresistible force, - they turned away. I followed the new line they took. She looked at Rudolf - Rassendyll, and he at her. Helga had taken out her handkerchief, and, - utterly upset by the horror and shock, was lying back in a low chair, - sobbing half-hysterically; I saw the swift look that passed from the queen - to her lover, carrying in it grief, remorse, and most unwilling joy. He - did not speak to her, but put out his hand and took hers. She drew it away - almost sharply, and covered her face with both hands. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf turned to me. “When was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Last night.” - </p> - <p> - “And the.... He’s at the lodge?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, with Sapt and James.” - </p> - <p> - I was recovering my senses and my coolness. - </p> - <p> - “Nobody knows yet,” I said. “We were afraid you might be taken for him by - somebody. But, my God, Rudolf, what’s to be done now?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Rassendyll’s lips were set firm and tight. He frowned slightly, and - his blue eyes wore a curious entranced expression. He seemed to me to be - forgetful of everything, even of us who were with him, in some one idea - that possessed him. The queen herself came nearer to him and lightly - touched his arm with her hand. He started as though surprised, then fell - again into his reverie. - </p> - <p> - “What’s to be done, Rudolf?” I asked again. - </p> - <p> - “I’m going to kill Rupert of Hentzau,” he said. “The rest we’ll talk of - afterwards.” - </p> - <p> - He walked rapidly across the room and rang the bell. “Clear those people - away,” he ordered. “Tell them that I want to be quiet. Then send a closed - carriage round for me. Don’t be more than ten minutes.” - </p> - <p> - The servant received his peremptory orders with a low bow, and left us. - The queen, who had been all this time outwardly calm and composed, now - fell into a great agitation, which even the consciousness of our presence - could not enable her to hide. - </p> - <p> - “Rudolf, must you go? Since—since this has happened—” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, my dearest lady,” he whispered. Then he went on more loudly, “I - won’t quit Ruritania a second time leaving Rupert of Hentzau alive. Fritz, - send word to Sapt that the king is in Strelsau—he will understand—and - that instructions from the king will follow by midday. When I have killed - Rupert, I shall visit the lodge on my way to the frontier.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to go, but the queen, following, detained him for a minute. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll come and see me before you go?” she pleaded. - </p> - <p> - “But I ought not,” said he, his resolute eyes suddenly softening in a - marvelous fashion. - </p> - <p> - “You will?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my queen.” - </p> - <p> - Then I sprang up, for a sudden dread laid hold on me. - </p> - <p> - “Heavens, man,” I cried, “what if he kills you—there in the - Konigstrasse?” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf turned to me; there was a look of surprise on his face. “He won’t - kill me,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - The queen, looking still in Rudolf’s face, and forgetful now, as it - seemed, of the dream that had so terrified her, took no notice of what I - said, but urged again: “You’ll come, Rudolf?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, once, my queen,” and with a last kiss of her hand he was gone. - </p> - <p> - The queen stood for yet another moment where she was, still and almost - rigid. Then suddenly she walked or stumbled to where my wife sat, and, - flinging herself on her knees, hid her face in Helga’s lap; I heard her - sobs break out fast and tumultuously. Helga looked up at me, the tears - streaming down her cheeks. I turned and went out. Perhaps Helga could - comfort her; I prayed that God in His pity might send her comfort, - although she for her sin’s sake dared not ask it of Him. Poor soul! I hope - there may be nothing worse scored to my account. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. A PASTIME FOR COLONEL SAPT - </h2> - <p> - THE Constable of Zenda and James, Mr. Rassendyll’s servant, sat at - breakfast in the hunting-lodge. They were in the small room which was - ordinarily used as the bedroom of the gentleman in attendance on the king: - they chose it now because it commanded a view of the approach. The door of - the house was securely fastened; they were prepared to refuse admission; - in case refusal was impossible, the preparations for concealing the king’s - body and that of his huntsman Herbert were complete. Inquirers would be - told that the king had ridden out with his huntsman at daybreak, promising - to return in the evening but not stating where he was going; Sapt was - under orders to await his return, and James was expecting instructions - from his master the Count of Tarlenheim. Thus armed against discovery, - they looked for news from me which should determine their future action. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile there was an interval of enforced idleness. Sapt, his meal - finished, puffed away at his great pipe; James, after much pressure, had - consented to light a small black clay, and sat at his ease with his legs - stretched before him. His brows were knit, and a curious half-smile played - about his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “What may you be thinking about, friend James?” asked the constable - between two puffs. He had taken a fancy to the alert, ready little fellow. - </p> - <p> - James smoked for a moment, and then took his pipe from his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking, sir, that since the king is dead—” - </p> - <p> - He paused. - </p> - <p> - “The king is no doubt dead, poor fellow,” said Sapt, nodding. - </p> - <p> - “That since he’s certainly dead, and since my master, Mr. Rassendyll, is - alive—” - </p> - <p> - “So far as we know, James,” Sapt reminded him. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, sir, so far as we know. Since, then, Mr. Rassendyll is alive - and the king is dead, I was thinking that it was a great pity, sir, that - my master can’t take his place and be king.” James looked across at the - constable with an air of a man who offers a respectful suggestion. - </p> - <p> - “A remarkable thought, James,” observed the constable with a grin. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t agree with me, sir?” asked James deprecatingly. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t say that it isn’t a pity, for Rudolf makes a good king. But you - see it’s impossible, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - James nursed his knee between his hands, and his pipe, which he had - replaced, stuck out of one corner of his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “When you say impossible, sir,” he remarked deferentially, “I venture to - differ from you.” - </p> - <p> - “You do? Come, we’re at leisure. Let’s hear how it would be possible.” - </p> - <p> - “My master is in Strelsau, sir,” began James. - </p> - <p> - “Well, most likely.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m sure of it, sir. If he’s been there, he will be taken for the king.” - </p> - <p> - “That has happened before, and no doubt may happen again, unless—” - </p> - <p> - “Why, of course, sir, unless the king’s body should be discovered.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s what I was about to say, James.” - </p> - <p> - James kept silence for a few minutes. Then he observed, “It will be very - awkward to explain how the king was killed.” - </p> - <p> - “The story will need good telling,” admitted Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “And it will be difficult to make it appear that the king was killed in - Strelsau; yet if my master should chance to be killed in Strelsau—” - </p> - <p> - “Heaven forbid, James! On all grounds, Heaven forbid!” - </p> - <p> - “Even if my master is not killed, it will be difficult for us to get the - king killed at the right time, and by means that will seem plausible.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt seemed to fall into the humor of the speculation. “That’s all very - true. But if Mr. Rassendyll is to be king, it will be both awkward and - difficult to dispose of the king’s body and of this poor fellow Herbert,” - said he, sucking at his pipe. - </p> - <p> - Again James paused for a little while before he remarked: “I am, of - course, sir, only discussing the matter by way of passing the time. It - would probably be wrong to carry any such plan into effect.” - </p> - <p> - “It might be, but let us discuss it—to pass the time,” said Sapt; - and he leant forward, looking into the servant’s quiet, shrewd face. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, sir, since it amuses you, let us say that the king came to - the lodge last night, and was joined there by his friend Mr. Rassendyll.” - </p> - <p> - “And did I come too?” - </p> - <p> - “You, sir, came also, in attendance on the king.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, and you, James? You came. How came you?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir, by the Count of Tarlenheim’s orders, to wait on Mr. Rassendyll, - the king’s friend. Now, the king, sir... This is my story, you know, sir, - only my story.” - </p> - <p> - “Your story interests me. Go on with it.” - </p> - <p> - “The king went out very early this morning, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “That would be on private business?” - </p> - <p> - “So we should have understood. But Mr. Rassendyll, Herbert, and ourselves - remained here.” - </p> - <p> - “Had the Count of Hentzau been?” - </p> - <p> - “Not to our knowledge, sir. But we were all tired and slept very soundly.” - </p> - <p> - “Now did we?” said the constable, with a grim smile. - </p> - <p> - “In fact, sir, we were all overcome with fatigue—Mr. Rassendyll like - the rest—and full morning found us still in our beds. There we - should be to this moment, sir, had we not been suddenly aroused in a - startling and fearful manner.” - </p> - <p> - “You should write story books, James. Now what was this fearful manner in - which we were aroused?” - </p> - <p> - James laid down his pipe, and, resting his hands on his knees, continued - his story. - </p> - <p> - “This lodge, sir, this wooden lodge—for the lodge is all of wood, - sir, without and within.” - </p> - <p> - “This lodge is undoubtedly of wood, James, and, as you say, both inside - and out.” - </p> - <p> - “And since it is, sir, it would be mighty careless to leave a candle - burning where the oil and firewood are stored.” - </p> - <p> - “Most criminal!” - </p> - <p> - “But hard words don’t hurt dead men; and you see, sir, poor Herbert is - dead.” - </p> - <p> - “It is true. He wouldn’t feel aggrieved.” - </p> - <p> - “But we, sir, you and I, awaking—” - </p> - <p> - “Aren’t the others to awake, James?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir, I should pray that they had never awaked. For you and I, - waking first, would find the lodge a mass of flames. We should have to run - for our lives.” - </p> - <p> - “What! Should we make no effort to rouse the others?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir, we should do all that men could do; we should even risk - death by suffocation.” - </p> - <p> - “But we should fail, in spite of our heroism, should we?” - </p> - <p> - “Alas, sir, in spite of all our efforts we should fail. The flames would - envelop the lodge in one blaze; before help could come, the lodge would be - in ruins, and my unhappy master and poor Herbert would be consumed to - ashes.” - </p> - <p> - “Hum!” - </p> - <p> - “They would, at least, sir, be entirely unrecognizable.” - </p> - <p> - “You think so?” - </p> - <p> - “Beyond doubt, if the oil and the firewood and the candle were placed to - the best advantage.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes. And there would be an end of Rudolf Rassendyll?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I should myself carry the tidings to his family.” - </p> - <p> - “Whereas the King of Ruritania—” - </p> - <p> - “Would enjoy a long and prosperous reign, God willing, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And the Queen of Ruritania, James?” - </p> - <p> - “Do not misunderstand me, sir. They could be secretly married. I should - say re-married.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, certainly, re-married.” - </p> - <p> - “By a trustworthy priest.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean by an untrustworthy priest?” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the same thing, sir, from a different point of view.” For the first - time James smiled a thoughtful smile. - </p> - <p> - Sapt in his turn laid down his pipe now, and was tugging at his moustache. - There was a smile on his lips too, and his eyes looked hard into James’s. - The little man met his glance composedly. - </p> - <p> - “It’s an ingenious fancy, this of yours, James,” the constable remarked. - “What, though, if your master’s killed too? That’s quite possible. Count - Rupert’s a man to be reckoned with.” - </p> - <p> - “If my master is killed, sir, he must be buried,” answered James. - </p> - <p> - “In Strelsau?” came in quick question from Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “He won’t mind where, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “True, he won’t mind, and we needn’t mind for him.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, sir. But to carry a body secretly from here to Strelsau—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that is, as we agreed at the first, difficult. Well, it’s a pretty - story, but—your master wouldn’t approve of it. Supposing he were not - killed, I mean.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s a waste of time, sir, disapproving of what’s done: he might think - the story better than the truth, although it’s not a good story.” - </p> - <p> - The two men’s eyes met again in a long glance. - </p> - <p> - “Where do you come from?” asked Sapt, suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “London, sir, originally.” - </p> - <p> - “They make good stories there?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, and act them sometimes.” - </p> - <p> - The instant he had spoken, James sprang to his feet and pointed out of the - window. - </p> - <p> - A man on horseback was cantering towards the lodge. Exchanging one quick - look, both hastened to the door, and, advancing some twenty yards, waited - under the tree on the spot where Boris lay buried. - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” said Sapt, “you forgot the dog.” And he pointed to the - ground. - </p> - <p> - “The affectionate beast will be in his master’s room and die there, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Eh, but he must rise again first!” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, sir. That won’t be a long matter.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt was still smiling in grim amusement when the messenger came up and, - leaning from his home, handed him a telegram. - </p> - <p> - “Special and urgent, sir,” said he. - </p> - <p> - Sapt tore it open and read. It was the message that I sent in obedience to - Mr. Rassendyll’s orders. He would not trust my cipher, but, indeed, none - was necessary. Sapt would understand the message, although it said simply, - “The king is in Strelsau. Wait orders at the lodge. Business here in - progress, but not finished. Will wire again.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt handed it to James, who took it with a respectful little bow. James - read it with attention, and returned it with another bow. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll attend to what it says, sir,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Sapt. “Thanks, my man,” he added to the messenger. “Here’s a - crown for you. If any other message comes for me and you bring it in good - time, you shall have another.” - </p> - <p> - “You shall have it quick as a horse can bring it from the station, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “The king’s business won’t bear delay, you know,” nodded Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “You sha’n’t have to wait, sir,” and, with a parting salute, the fellow - turned his horse and trotted away. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” remarked Sapt, “that your story is quite imaginary. For that - fellow can see for himself that the lodge was not burnt down last night.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s true; but, excuse me, sir—” - </p> - <p> - “Pray go on, James. I’ve told you that I’m interested.” - </p> - <p> - “He can’t see that it won’t be burnt down to-night. A fire, sir, is a - thing that may happen any night.” - </p> - <p> - Then old Sapt suddenly burst into a roar, half-speech, half laughter. - </p> - <p> - “By God, what a thing!” he roared; and James smiled complacently. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a fate about it,” said the constable. “There’s a strange fate - about it. The man was born to it. We’d have done it before if Michael had - throttled the king in that cellar, as I thought he would. Yes, by heavens, - we’d have done it! Why, we wanted it! God forgive us, in our hearts both - Fritz and I wanted it. But Rudolf would have the king out. He would have - him out, though he lost a throne—and what he wanted more—by - it. But he would have him out. So he thwarted the fate. But it’s not to be - thwarted. Young Rupert may think this new affair is his doing. No, it’s - the fate using him. The fate brought Rudolf here again, the fate will have - him king. Well, you stare at me. Do you think I’m mad, Mr. Valet?” - </p> - <p> - “I think, sir, that you talk very good sense, if I may say so,” answered - James. - </p> - <p> - “Sense?” echoed Sapt with a chuckle. “I don’t know about that. But the - fate’s there, depend on it!” - </p> - <p> - The two were back in their little room now, past the door that hid the - bodies of the king and his huntsman. James stood by the table, old Sapt - roamed up and down, tugging his moustache, and now and again sawing the - air with his sturdy hairy hand. - </p> - <p> - “I daren’t do it,” he muttered: “I daren’t do it. It’s a thing a man can’t - set his hand to of his own will. But the fate’ll do it—the fate’ll - do it. The fate’ll force it on us.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we’d best be ready, sir,” suggested James quietly. Sapt turned on - him quickly, almost fiercely. - </p> - <p> - “They used to call me a cool hand,” said he. “By Jove, what are you?” - </p> - <p> - “There’s no harm in being ready, sir,” said James, the servant. - </p> - <p> - Sapt came to him and caught hold of his shoulders. “Ready?” he asked in a - gruff whisper. - </p> - <p> - “The oil, the firewood, the light,” said James. - </p> - <p> - “Where, man, where? Do you mean, by the bodies?” - </p> - <p> - “Not where the bodies are now. Each must be in the proper place.” - </p> - <p> - “We must move them then?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes. And the dog too.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt almost glared at him; then he burst into a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “So be it,” he said. “You take command. Yes, we’ll be ready. The fate - drives.” - </p> - <p> - Then and there they set about what they had to do. It seemed indeed as - though some strange influence were dominating Sapt; he went about the work - like a man who is hardly awake. They placed the bodies each where the - living man would be by night—the king in the guest-room, the - huntsman in the sort of cupboard where the honest fellow had been wont to - lie. They dug up the buried dog, Sapt chuckling convulsively, James grave - as the mute whose grim doings he seemed to travesty: they carried the - shot-pierced, earth-grimed thing in, and laid it in the king’s room. Then - they made their piles of wood, pouring the store of oil over them, and - setting bottles of spirit near, that the flames having cracked the - bottles, might gain fresh fuel. To Sapt it seemed now as if they played - some foolish game that was to end with the playing, now as if they obeyed - some mysterious power which kept its great purpose hidden from its - instruments. Mr. Rassendyll’s servant moved and arranged and ordered all - as deftly as he folded his master’s clothes or stropped his master’s - razor. Old Sapt stopped him once as he went by. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t think me a mad fool, because I talk of the fate,” he said, almost - anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Not I, sir,” answered James, “I know nothing of that. But I like to be - ready.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be a thing!” muttered Sapt. - </p> - <p> - The mockery, real or assumed, in which they had begun their work, had - vanished now. If they were not serious, they played at seriousness. If - they entertained no intention such as their acts seemed to indicate, they - could no longer deny that they had cherished a hope. They shrank, or at - least Sapt shrank, from setting such a ball rolling; but they longed for - the fate that would give it a kick, and they made smooth the incline down - which it, when thus impelled, was to run. When they had finished their - task and sat down again opposite to one another in the little front room, - the whole scheme was ready, the preparations were made, all was in train; - they waited only for that impulse from chance or fate which was to turn - the servant’s story into reality and action. And when the thing was done, - Sapt’s coolness, so rarely upset, yet so completely beaten by the force of - that wild idea, came back to him. He lit his pipe again and lay back in - his chair, puffing freely, with a meditative look on his face. - </p> - <p> - “It’s two o’clock, sir,” said James. “Something should have happened - before now in Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but what?” asked the constable. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly breaking on their ears came a loud knock at the door. Absorbed in - their own thoughts, they had not noticed two men riding up to the lodge. - The visitors wore the green and gold of the king’s huntsmen; the one who - had knocked was Simon, the chief huntsman, and brother of Herbert, who lay - dead in the little room inside. - </p> - <p> - “Rather dangerous!” muttered the Constable of Zenda as he hurried to the - door, James following him. - </p> - <p> - Simon was astonished when Sapt opened the door. - </p> - <p> - “Beg pardon, Constable, but I want to see Herbert. Can I go in?” And he - jumped down from his horse, throwing the reins to his companion. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the good of your going in?” asked Sapt. “Herbert’s not here.” - </p> - <p> - “Not here? Then where is he?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, he went with the king this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he went with the king, sir? Then he’s in Strelsau, I suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “If you know that, Simon, you’re wiser than I am.” - </p> - <p> - “But the king is in Strelsau, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “The deuce he is! He said nothing of going to Strelsau. He rose early and - rode off with Herbert, merely saying they would be back to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “He went to Strelsau, sir. I am just from Zenda, and his Majesty is known - to have been in town with the queen. They were both at Count Fritz’s.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m much interested to hear it. But didn’t the telegram say where Herbert - was?” - </p> - <p> - Simon laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Herbert’s not a king, you see,” he said. “Well, I’ll come again to-morrow - morning, for I must see him soon. He’ll be back by then, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Simon, your brother will be here to-morrow morning.” - </p> - <p> - “Or what’s left of him after such a two-days of work,” suggested Simon - jocularly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, precisely,” said Sapt, biting his moustache and darting one - swift glance at James. “Or what’s left of him, as you say.” - </p> - <p> - “And I’ll bring a cart and carry the boar down to the castle at the same - time, sir. At least, I suppose you haven’t eaten it all?” - </p> - <p> - Sapt laughed; Simon was gratified at the tribute, and laughed even more - heartily himself. - </p> - <p> - “We haven’t even cooked it yet,” said Sapt, “but I won’t answer for it - that we sha’n’t have by to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, sir; I’ll be here. By the way, there’s another bit of news - come on the wires. They say Count Rupert of Hentzau has been seen in the - city.” - </p> - <p> - “Rupert of Hentzau? Oh, pooh! Nonsense, my good Simon. He daren’t show his - face there for his life.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but it may be no nonsense. Perhaps that’s what took the king to - Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s enough to take him if it’s true,” admitted Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Well, good day, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Good day, Simon.” - </p> - <p> - The two huntsmen rode off. James watched them for a little while. - </p> - <p> - “The king,” he said then, “is known to be in Strelsau; and now Count - Rupert is known to be in Strelsau. How is Count Rupert to have killed the - king here in the forest of Zenda, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Sapt looked at him almost apprehensively. - </p> - <p> - “How is the king’s body to come to the forest of Zenda?” asked James. “Or - how is the king’s body to go to the city of Strelsau?” - </p> - <p> - “Stop your damned riddles!” roared Sapt. “Man, are you bent on driving me - into it?” - </p> - <p> - The servant came near to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You went into as great a thing once before, sir,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “It was to save the king.” - </p> - <p> - “And this is to save the queen and yourself. For if we don’t do it, the - truth about my master must be known.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt made him no answer. They sat down again in silence. - </p> - <p> - There they sat, sometimes smoking, never speaking, while the tedious - afternoon wore away, and the shadows from the trees of the forest - lengthened. They did not think of eating or drinking; they did not move, - save when James rose and lit a little fire of brushwood in the grate. It - grew dusk and again James moved to light the lamp. It was hard on six - o’clock, and still no news came from Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - Then there was the sound of a horse’s hoofs. The two rushed to the door, - beyond it, and far along the grassy road that gave approach to the - hunting-lodge. They forgot to guard the secret and the door gaped open - behind them. Sapt ran as he had not run for many a day, and outstripped - his companion. There was a message from Strelsau! - </p> - <p> - The constable, without a word of greeting, snatched the envelope from the - hand of the messenger and tore it open. He read it hastily, muttering - under his breath “Good God!” Then he turned suddenly round and began to - walk quickly back to James, who, seeing himself beaten in the race, had - dropped to a walk. But the messenger had his cares as well as the - constable. If the constable’s thoughts were on a crown, so were his. He - called out in indignant protest: - </p> - <p> - “I have never drawn rein since Hofbau, sir. Am I not to have my crown?” - </p> - <p> - Sapt stopped, turned, and retraced his steps. He took a crown from his - pocket. As he looked up in giving it, there was a queer smile on his - broad, weather-beaten face. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” he said, “every man that deserves a crown shall have one, if I can - give it him.” - </p> - <p> - Then he turned again to James, who had now come up, and laid his hand on - his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Come along, my king-maker,” said he. - </p> - <p> - James looked in his face for a moment. The constable’s eyes met his; and - the constable nodded. - </p> - <p> - So they turned to the lodge where the dead king and his huntsman lay. - Verily the fate drove. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. A CROWD IN THE KONIGSTRASSE - </h2> - <p> - The project that had taken shape in the thoughts of Mr. Rassendyll’s - servant, and had inflamed Sapt’s daring mind as the dropping of a spark - kindles dry shavings, had suggested itself vaguely to more than one of us - in Strelsau. We did not indeed coolly face and plan it, as the little - servant had, nor seize on it at once with an eagerness to be convinced of - its necessity, like the Constable of Zenda; but it was there in my mind, - sometimes figuring as a dread, sometimes as a hope, now seeming the one - thing to be avoided, again the only resource against a more disastrous - issue. I knew that it was in Bernenstein’s thoughts no less than in my - own; for neither of us had been able to form any reasonable scheme by - which the living king, whom half Strelsau now knew to be in the city, - could be spirited away, and the dead king set in his place. The change - could take place, as it seemed, only in one way and at one cost: the - truth, or the better part of it, must be told, and every tongue set - wagging with gossip and guesses concerning Rudolf Rassendyll and his - relations with the queen. Who that knows what men and women are would not - have shrunk from that alternative? To adopt it was to expose the queen to - all or nearly all the peril she had run by the loss of the letter. We - indeed assumed, influenced by Rudolf’s unhesitating self-confidence, that - the letter would be won back, and the mouth of Rupert of Hentzau shut; but - enough would remain to furnish material for eager talk and for conjectures - unrestrained by respect or charity. Therefore, alive as we were to its - difficulties and its unending risks, we yet conceived of the thing as - possible, had it in our hearts, and hinted it to one another—my wife - to me, I to Bernenstein, and he to me—in quick glances and half - uttered sentences that declared its presence while shunning the open - confession of it. For the queen herself I cannot speak. Her thoughts, as I - judged them, were bounded by the longing to see Mr. Rassendyll again, and - dwelt on the visit that he promised as the horizon of hope. To Rudolf we - had dared to disclose nothing of the part our imaginations set him to - play: if he were to accept it, the acceptance would be of his own act, - because the fate that old Sapt talked of drove him, and on no persuasion - of ours. As he had said, he left the rest, and had centered all his - efforts on the immediate task which fell to his hand to perform, the task - that was to be accomplished at the dingy old house in the Konigstrasse. We - were indeed awake to the fact that even Rupert’s death would not make the - secret safe. Rischenheim, although for the moment a prisoner and helpless, - was alive and could not be mewed up for ever; Bauer was we knew not where, - free to act and free to talk. Yet in our hearts we feared none but Rupert, - and the doubt was not whether we could do the thing so much as whether we - should. For in moments of excitement and intense feeling a man makes light - of obstacles which look large enough as he turns reflective eyes on them - in the quiet of after-days. - </p> - <p> - A message in the king’s name had persuaded the best part of the idle crowd - to disperse reluctantly. Rudolf himself had entered one of my carriages - and driven off. He started not towards the Konigstrasse, but in the - opposite direction: I supposed that he meant to approach his destination - by a circuitous way, hoping to gain it without attracting notice. The - queen’s carriage was still before my door, for it had been arranged that - she was to proceed to the palace and there await tidings. My wife and I - were to accompany her; and I went to her now, where she sat alone, and - asked if it were her pleasure to start at once. I found her thoughtful but - calm. She listened to me; then, rising, she said, “Yes, I will go.” But - then she asked suddenly, “Where is the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim?” - </p> - <p> - I told her how Bernenstein kept guard over the count in the room at the - back of the house. She seemed to consider for a moment, then she said: - </p> - <p> - “I will see him. Go and bring him to me. You must be here while I talk to - him, but nobody else.” - </p> - <p> - I did not know what she intended, but I saw no reason to oppose her - wishes, and I was glad to find for her any means of employing this time of - suspense. I obeyed her commands and brought Rischenheim to her. He - followed me slowly and reluctantly; his unstable mind had again jumped - from rashness to despondency: he was pale and uneasy, and, when he found - himself in her presence, the bravado of his bearing, maintained before - Bernenstein, gave place to a shamefaced sullenness. He could not meet the - grave eyes that she fixed on him. - </p> - <p> - I withdrew to the farther end of the room; but it was small, and I heard - all that passed. I had my revolver ready to cover Rischenheim in case he - should be moved to make a dash for liberty. But he was past that: Rupert’s - presence was a tonic that nerved him to effort and to confidence, but the - force of the last dose was gone and the man was sunk again to his natural - irresolution. - </p> - <p> - “My lord,” she began gently, motioning him to sit, “I have desired to - speak with you, because I do not wish a gentleman of your rank to think - too much evil of his queen. Heaven has willed that my secret should be to - you no secret, and therefore I may speak plainly. You may say my own shame - should silence me; I speak to lessen my shame in your eyes, if I can.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked up with a dull gaze, not understanding her mood. He had - expected reproaches, and met low-voiced apology. - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” she went on, “it is because of me that the king lies dead now; - and a faithful humble fellow also, caught in the net of my unhappy - fortunes, has given his life for me, though he didn’t know it. Even while - we speak, it may be that a gentleman, not too old yet to learn nobility, - may be killed in my quarrel; while another, whom I alone of all that know - him may not praise, carries his life lightly in his hand for me. And to - you, my lord, I have done the wrong of dressing a harsh deed in some cloak - of excuse, making you seem to serve the king in working my punishment.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim’s eyes fell to the ground, and he twisted his hands nervously - in and out, the one about the other. I took my hand from my revolver: he - would not move now. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” she went on, now almost dreamily, and as though she spoke - more to herself than to him, or had even forgotten his presence, “what end - in Heaven’s counsel my great unhappiness has served. Perhaps I, who have - place above most women, must also be tried above most; and in that trial I - have failed. Yet, when I weigh my misery and my temptation, to my human - eyes it seems that I have not failed greatly. My heart is not yet humbled, - God’s work not yet done. But the guilt of blood is on my soul—even - the face of my dear love I can see now only through its scarlet mist; so - that if what seemed my perfect joy were now granted me, it would come - spoilt and stained and blotched.” - </p> - <p> - She paused, fixing her eyes on him again; but he neither spoke nor moved. - </p> - <p> - “You knew my sin,” she said, “the sin so great in my heart; and you knew - how little my acts yielded to it. Did you think, my lord, that the sin had - no punishment, that you took it in hand to add shame to my suffering? Was - Heaven so kind that men must temper its indulgence by their severity? Yet - I know that because I was wrong, you, being wrong, might seem to yourself - not wrong, and in aiding your kinsman might plead that you served the - king’s honor. Thus, my lord, I was the cause in you of a deed that your - heart could not welcome nor your honor praise. I thank God that you have - come to no more hurt by it.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim began to mutter in a low thick voice, his eyes still cast - down: “Rupert persuaded me. He said the king would be very grateful, and—would - give me—” His voice died away, and he sat silent again, twisting his - hands. - </p> - <p> - “I know—I know,” she said. “But you wouldn’t have listened to such - persuasions if my fault hadn’t blinded your eyes.” - </p> - <p> - She turned suddenly to me, who had been standing all the while aloof, and - stretched out her hands towards me, her eyes filled with tears. - </p> - <p> - “Yet,” said she, “your wife knows, and still loves me, Fritz.” - </p> - <p> - “She should be no wife of mine, if she didn’t,” I cried. “For I and all of - mine ask no better than to die for your Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “She knows, and yet she loves me,” repeated the queen. I loved to see that - she seemed to find comfort in Helga’s love. It is women to whom women - turn, and women whom women fear. - </p> - <p> - “But Helga writes no letters,” said the queen. - </p> - <p> - “Why, no,” said I, and I smiled a grim smile. Well, Rudolf Rassendyll had - never wooed my wife. - </p> - <p> - She rose, saying: “Come, let us go to the palace.” - </p> - <p> - As she rose, Rischenheim made a quick impulsive step towards her. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my lord,” said she, turning towards him, “will you also go with - me?” - </p> - <p> - “Lieutenant von Bernenstein will take care—” I began. But I stopped. - The slightest gesture of her hand silenced me. - </p> - <p> - “Will you go with me?” she asked Rischenheim again. - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” he stammered, “Madam—” - </p> - <p> - She waited. I waited also, although I had no great patience with him. - Suddenly he fell on his knee, but he did not venture to take her hand. Of - her own accord she came and stretched it out to him, saying sadly: “Ah, - that by forgiving I could win forgiveness!” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim caught at her hand and kissed it. - </p> - <p> - “It was not I,” I heard him mutter. “Rupert set me on, and I couldn’t - stand out against him.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you go with me to the palace?” she asked, drawing her hand away, but - smiling. - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim,” I made bold to observe, “knows some - things that most people do not know, madam.” She turned on me with - dignity, almost with displeasure. - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim may be trusted to be silent,” she said. - “We ask him to do nothing against his cousin. We ask only his silence.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said I, braving her anger, “but what security shall we have?” - </p> - <p> - “His word of honor, my lord.” I knew that a rebuke to my presumption lay - in her calling me “my lord,” for, save on formal occasions, she always - used to call me Fritz. - </p> - <p> - “His word of honor!” I grumbled. “In truth, madam—” - </p> - <p> - “He’s right,” said Rischenheim; “he’s right.” - </p> - <p> - “No, he’s wrong,” said the queen, smiling. “The count will keep his word, - given to me.” - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim looked at her and seemed about to address her, but then he - turned to me, and said in a low tone: - </p> - <p> - “By Heaven, I will, Tarlenheim. I’ll serve her in everything—” - </p> - <p> - “My lord,” said she most graciously, and yet very sadly, “you lighten the - burden on me no less by your help than because I no longer feel your honor - stained through me. Come, we will go to the palace.” And she went to him, - saying, “We will go together.” - </p> - <p> - There was nothing for it but to trust him. I knew that I could not turn - her. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll see if the carriage is ready,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, do, Fritz,” said the queen. But as I passed she stopped me for a - moment, saying in a whisper, “Show that you trust him.” - </p> - <p> - I went and held out my hand to him. He took and pressed it. - </p> - <p> - “On my honor,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Then I went out and found Bernenstein sitting on a bench in the hall. The - lieutenant was a diligent and watchful young man; he appeared to be - examining his revolver with sedulous care. - </p> - <p> - “You can put that away,” said I rather peevishly—I had not fancied - shaking hands with Rischenheim. “He’s not a prisoner any longer. He’s one - of us now.” - </p> - <p> - “The deuce he is!” cried Bernenstein, springing to his feet. - </p> - <p> - I told him briefly what had happened, and how the queen had won Rupert’s - instrument to be her servant. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose he’ll stick to it,” I ended; and I thought he would, though I - was not eager for his help. - </p> - <p> - A light gleamed in Bernenstein’s eyes, and I felt a tremble in the hand - that he laid on my shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Then there’s only Bauer now,” he whispered. “If Rischenheim’s with us, - only Bauer!” - </p> - <p> - I knew very well what he meant. With Rischenheim silent, Bauer was the - only man, save Rupert himself, who knew the truth, the only man who - threatened that great scheme which more and more filled our thoughts and - grew upon us with an increasing force of attraction as every obstacle to - it seemed to be cleared out of the way. But I would not look at - Bernenstein, fearing to acknowledge even with my eyes how my mind jumped - with his. He was bolder, or less scrupulous—which you will. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, if we can shut Bauer’s mouth.” he went on. - </p> - <p> - “The queen’s waiting for the carriage,” I interrupted snappishly. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes, of course, the carriage,” and he twisted me round till I was - forced to look him in the face. Then he smiled, and even laughed a little. - </p> - <p> - “Only Bauer now!” said he. - </p> - <p> - “And Rupert,” I remarked sourly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Rupert’s dead bones by now,” he chuckled, and with that he went out - of the hall door and announced the queen’s approach to her servants. It - must be said for young Bernenstein that he was a cheerful - fellow-conspirator. His equanimity almost matched Rudolf’s own; I could - not rival it myself. - </p> - <p> - I drove to the palace with the queen and my wife, the other two following - in a second carriage. I do not know what they said to one another on the - way, but Bernenstein was civil enough to his companion when I rejoined - them. With us my wife was the principal speaker: she filled up, from what - Rudolf had told her, the gaps in our knowledge of how he had spent his - night in Strelsau, and by the time we arrived we were fully informed in - every detail. The queen said little. The impulse which had dictated her - appeal to Rischenheim and carried her through it seemed to have died away; - she had become again subject to fears and apprehension. I saw her - uneasiness when she suddenly put out her hand and touched mine, - whispering: - </p> - <p> - “He must be at the house by now.” - </p> - <p> - Our way did not lie by the house, and we came to the palace without any - news of our absent chief (so I call him—as such we all, from the - queen herself, then regarded him). She did not speak of him again; but her - eyes seemed to follow me about as though she were silently asking some - service of me; what it was I could not understand. Bernenstein had - disappeared, and the repentant count with him: knowing they were together, - I was in no uneasiness; Bernenstein would see that his companion contrived - no treachery. But I was puzzled by the queen’s tacit appeal. And I was - myself on fire for news from the Konigstrasse. It was now two hours since - Rudolf Rassendyll had left us, and no word had come of him or from him. At - last I could bear it no longer. The queen was sitting with her hand in my - wife’s; I had been seated on the other side of the room, for I thought - that they might wish to talk to one another; yet I had not seen them - exchange a word. I rose abruptly and crossed the room to where they were. - </p> - <p> - “Have you need of my presence, madam, or have I your permission to be away - for a time?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Where do you wish to go, Fritz?” the queen asked with a little start, as - though I had come suddenly across her thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “To the Konigstrasse,” said I. - </p> - <p> - To my surprise she rose and caught my hand. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Fritz!” she cried. “I don’t think I could have endured it - longer. But I wouldn’t ask you to go. But go, my dear friend, go and bring - me news of him. Oh, Fritz, I seem to dream that dream again!” - </p> - <p> - My wife looked up at me with a brave smile and a trembling lip. - </p> - <p> - “Shall you go into the house, Fritz?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Not unless I see need, sweetheart,” said I. - </p> - <p> - She came and kissed me. “Go, if you are wanted,” she said. And she tried - to smile at the queen, as though she risked me willingly. - </p> - <p> - “I could have been such a wife, Fritz,” whispered the queen. “Yes, I - could.” - </p> - <p> - I had nothing to say; at the moment I might not have been able to say it - if I had. There is something in the helpless courage of women that makes - me feel soft. We can work and fight; they sit and wait. Yet they do not - flinch. Now I know that if I had to sit and think about the thing I should - turn cur. - </p> - <p> - Well, I went, leaving them there together. I put on plain clothes instead - of my uniform, and dropped my revolver into the pocket of my coat. Thus - prepared, I slipped out and made my way on foot to the Konigstrasse. - </p> - <p> - It was now long past midday, but many folks were at their dinner and the - streets were not full. Two or three people recognized me, but I passed by - almost unnoticed. There was no sign of stir or excitement, and the flags - still floated high in the wind. Sapt had kept his secret; the men of - Strelsau thought still that their king lived and was among them. I feared - that Rudolf’s coming would have been seen, and expected to find a crowd of - people near the house. But when I reached it there were no more than ten - or a dozen idle fellows lounging about. I began to stroll up and down with - as careless an air as I could assume. - </p> - <p> - Soon, however, there was a change. The workmen and business folk, their - meal finished, began to come out of their houses and from the restaurants. - The loafers before No. 19 spoke to many of them. Some said, “Indeed?” - shook their heads, smiled and passed on: they had no time to waste in - staring at the king. But many waited; lighting their cigars or cigarettes - or pipes, they stood gossiping with one another, looking at their watches - now and again, lest they should overstay their leisure. Thus the assembly - grew to the number of a couple of hundred. I ceased my walk, for the - pavement was too crowded, and hung on the outskirts of the throng. As I - loitered there, a cigar in my mouth, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning - round, I saw the lieutenant. He was in uniform. By his side was - Rischenheim. - </p> - <p> - “You’re here too, are you?” said I. “Well, nothing seems to be happening, - does it?” - </p> - <p> - For No. 19 showed no sign of life. The shutters were up, the door closed; - the little shop was not open for business that day. - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein shook his head with a smile. His companion took no heed of my - remark; he was evidently in a state of great agitation, and his eyes never - left the door of the house. I was about to address him, when my attention - was abruptly and completely diverted by a glimpse of a head, caught across - the shoulders of the bystanders. - </p> - <p> - The fellow whom I saw wore a brown wide-awake hat. The hat was pulled down - low over his forehead, but nevertheless beneath its rim there appeared a - white bandage running round his head. I could not see the face, but the - bullet-shaped skull was very familiar to me. I was sure from the first - moment that the bandaged man was Bauer. Saying nothing to Bernenstein, I - began to steal round outside the crowd. As I went, I heard somebody saying - that it was all nonsense; the king was not there: what should the king do - in such a house? The answer was a reference to one of the first loungers; - he replied that he did not know what the devil the king did there, but - that the king or his double had certainly gone in, and had as certainly - not yet come out again. I wished I could have made myself known to them - and persuaded them to go away; but my presence would have outweighed my - declarations, and been taken as a sure sign that the king was in the - house. So I kept on the outskirts and worked my way unobtrusively towards - the bandaged head. Evidently Bauer’s hurt had not been so serious as to - prevent him leaving the infirmary to which the police had carried him: he - was come now to await, even as I was awaiting, the issue of Rudolf’s visit - to the house in the Konigstrasse. - </p> - <p> - He had not seen me, for he was looking at No. 19 as intently as - Rischenheim. Apparently neither had caught sight of the other, or - Rischenheim would have shown some embarrassment, Bauer some excitement. I - wormed my way quickly towards my former servant. My mind was full of the - idea of getting hold of him. I could not forget Bernenstein’s remark, - “Only Bauer now!” If I could secure Bauer we were safe. Safe in what? I - did not answer to myself, but the old idea was working in me. Safe in our - secret and safe in our plan—in the plan on which we all, we here in - the city, and those two at the hunting-lodge, had set our minds! Bauer’s - death, Bauer’s capture, Bauer’s silence, however procured, would clear the - greatest hindrance from its way. - </p> - <p> - Bauer stared intently at the house; I crept cautiously up behind him. His - hand was in his trousers’ pocket; where the curve of the elbow came there - with a space between arm and body. I slipped in my left arm and hooked it - firmly inside his. He turned round and saw me. - </p> - <p> - “Thus we meet again, Bauer,” said I. - </p> - <p> - He was for a moment flabbergasted, and stared stupidly at me. - </p> - <p> - “Are you also hoping to see the king?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - He began to recover himself. A slow, cunning smile spread over his face. - </p> - <p> - “The king?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he’s in Strelsau, isn’t he? Who gave you the wound on your head?” - </p> - <p> - Bauer moved his arm as though he meant to withdraw it from my grasp. He - found himself tightly held. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s that bag of mine?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - I do not know what he would have answered, for at this instant there came - a sound from behind the closed door of the house. It was as if some one - ran rapidly and eagerly towards the door. Then came an oath in a shrill - voice, a woman’s voice, but harsh and rough. It was answered by an angry - cry in a girl’s intonation. Full of eagerness, I drew my arm from Bauer’s - and sprang forward. I heard a chuckle from him and turned round, to see - his bandaged head retreating rapidly down the street. I had no time to - look to him, for now I saw two men, shoulder to shoulder, making their way - through the crowd, regardless of any one in their way, and paying no - attention to abuse or remonstrances. They were the lieutenant and - Rischenheim. Without a moment’s hesitation I set myself to push and battle - a way through, thinking to join them in front. On they went, and on I - went. All gave place before us in surly reluctance or frightened - willingness. We three were together in the first rank of the crowd when - the door of the house was flung open, and a girl ran out. Her hair was - disordered, her face pale, and her eyes full of alarm. There she stood on - the doorstep, facing the crowd, which in an instant grew as if by magic to - three times its former size, and, little knowing what she did, she cried - in the eager accents of sheer terror: - </p> - <p> - “Help, help! The king! The king!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. YOUNG RUPERT AND THE PLAY-ACTOR - </h2> - <p> - There rises often before my mind the picture of young Rupert, standing - where Rischenheim left him, awaiting the return of his messenger and - watching for some sign that should declare to Strelsau the death of its - king which his own hand had wrought. His image is one that memory holds - clear and distinct, though time may blur the shape of greater and better - men, and the position in which he was that morning gives play enough to - the imagination. Save for Rischenheim, a broken reed, and Bauer, who was - gone, none knew where, he stood alone against a kingdom which he had - robbed of its head, and a band of resolute men who would know no rest and - no security so long as he lived. For protection he had only a quick brain, - his courage, and his secret. Yet he could not fly—he was without - resources till his cousin furnished them—and at any moment his - opponents might find themselves able to declare the king’s death and raise - the city in hue and cry after him. Such men do not repent; but it may be - that he regretted the enterprise which had led him on so far and forced on - him a deed so momentous; yet to those who knew him it seems more likely - that the smile broadened on his firm full lips as he looked down on the - unconscious city. Well, I daresay he would have been too much for me, but - I wish I had been the man to find him there. He would not have had it so; - for I believe that he asked no better than to cross swords again with - Rudolf Rassendyll and set his fortunes on the issue. - </p> - <p> - Down below, the old woman was cooking a stew for her dinner, now and then - grumbling to herself that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was so long away, - and Bauer, the rascal, drunk in some pot-house. The kitchen door stood - open, and through it could be seen the girl Rosa, busily scrubbing the - tiled floor; her color was high and her eyes bright; from time to time she - paused in her task, and, raising her head, seemed to listen. The time at - which the king needed her was past, but the king had not come. How little - the old woman knew for whom she listened! All her talk had been of Bauer—why - Bauer did not come and what could have befallen him. It was grand to hold - the king’s secret for him, and she would hold it with her life; for he had - been kind and gracious to her, and he was her man of all the men in - Strelsau. Bauer was a stumpy fellow; the Count of Hentzau was handsome, - handsome as the devil; but the king was her man. And the king had trusted - her; she would die before hurt should come to him. - </p> - <p> - There were wheels in the street—quick-rolling wheels. They seemed to - stop a few doors away, then to roll on again past the house. The girl’s - head was raised; the old woman, engrossed in her stewing, took no heed. - The girl’s straining ear caught a rapid step outside. Then it came—the - knock, the sharp knock followed by five light ones. The old woman heard - now: dropping her spoon into the pot, she lifted the mess off the fire and - turned round, saying: “There’s the rogue at last! Open the door for him, - Rosa.” - </p> - <p> - Before she spoke Rosa had darted down the passage. The door opened and - shut again. The old woman waddled to the threshold of the kitchen. The - passage and the shop were dark behind the closed shutters, but the figure - by the girl’s side was taller than Bauer’s. - </p> - <p> - “Who’s there?” cried Mother Holf sharply. “The shop’s shut to-day: you - can’t come in.” - </p> - <p> - “But I am in,” came the answer, and Rudolf stepped towards her. The girl - followed a pace behind, her hands clasped and her eyes alight with - excitement. “Don’t you know me?” asked Rudolf, standing opposite the old - woman and smiling down on her. - </p> - <p> - There, in the dim light of the low-roofed passage, Mother Holf was fairly - puzzled. She knew the story of Mr. Rassendyll; she knew that he was again - in Ruritania, it was no surprise to her that he should be in Strelsau; but - she did not know that Rupert had killed the king, and she had not seen the - king close at hand since his illness and his beard impaired what had been - a perfect likeness. In fine, she could not tell whether it were indeed the - king who spoke to her or his counterfeit. - </p> - <p> - “Who are you?” she asked, curt and blunt in her confusion. The girl broke - in with an amused laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Why, it’s the—” She paused. Perhaps the king’s identity was a - secret. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf nodded to her. “Tell her who I am,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Why, mother, it’s the king,” whispered Rosa, laughing and blushing. “The - king, mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, if the king’s alive, I’m the king,” said Rudolf. I suppose he wanted - to find out how much the old woman knew. - </p> - <p> - She made no answer, but stared up at his face. In her bewilderment she - forgot to ask how he had learnt the signal that gained him admission. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve come to see the Count of Hentzau,” Rudolf continued. “Take me to him - at once.” - </p> - <p> - The old woman was across his path in a moment, all defiant, arms akimbo. - </p> - <p> - “Nobody can see the count. He’s not here,” she blurted out. - </p> - <p> - “What, can’t the king see him? Not even the king?” - </p> - <p> - “King!” she cried, peering at him. “Are you the king?” - </p> - <p> - Rosa burst out laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, you must have seen the king a hundred times,” she laughed. - </p> - <p> - “The king, or his ghost—what does it matter?” said Rudolf lightly. - </p> - <p> - The old woman drew back with an appearance of sudden alarm. - </p> - <p> - “His ghost? Is he?” - </p> - <p> - “His ghost!” rang out in the girl’s merry laugh. “Why, here’s the king - himself, mother. You don’t look much like a ghost, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Mother Holf’s face was livid now, and her eyes staring fixedly. Perhaps it - shot into her brain that something had happened to the king, and that this - man had come because of it—this man who was indeed the image, and - might have been the spirit, of the king. She leant against the door post, - her broad bosom heaving under her scanty stuff gown. Yet still—was - it not the king? - </p> - <p> - “God help us!” she muttered in fear and bewilderment. - </p> - <p> - “He helps us, never fear,” said Rudolf Rassendyll. “Where is Count - Rupert?” - </p> - <p> - The girl had caught alarm from her mother’s agitation. “He’s upstairs in - the attic at the top of the house, sir,” she whispered in frightened - tones, with a glance that fled from her mother’s terrified face to - Rudolf’s set eyes and steady smile. - </p> - <p> - What she said was enough for him. He slipped by the old woman and began to - mount the stairs. - </p> - <p> - The two watched him, Mother Holf as though fascinated, the girl alarmed - but still triumphant: she had done what the king bade her. Rudolf turned - the corner of the first landing and disappeared from their sight. The old - woman, swearing and muttering, stumbled back into her kitchen, set her - stew on the fire, and began to stir it, her eyes set on the flames and - careless of the pot. The girl watched her mother for a moment, wondering - how she could think of the stew, not guessing that she turned the spoon - without a thought of what she did; then she began to crawl, quickly but - noiselessly, up the staircase in the track of Rudolf Rassendyll. She - looked back once: the old woman stirred with a monotonous circular - movement of her fat arm. Rosa, bent half-double, skimmed upstairs, till - she came in sight of the king whom she was so proud to serve. He was on - the top landing now, outside the door of a large attic where Rupert of - Hentzau was lodged. She saw him lay his hand on the latch of the door; his - other hand rested in the pocket of his coat. From the room no sound came; - Rupert may have heard the step outside and stood motionless to listen. - Rudolf opened the door and walked in. The girl darted breathlessly up the - remaining steps, and, coming to the door, just as it swung back on the - latch, crouched down by it, listening to what passed within, catching - glimpses of forms and movements through the chinks of the crazy hinge and - the crevices where the wood of the panel sprung and left a narrow eye hole - for her absorbed gazing. - </p> - <p> - Rupert of Hentzau had no thought of ghosts; the men he killed lay still - where they fell, and slept where they were buried. And he had no wonder at - the sight of Rudolf Rassendyll. It told him no more than that - Rischenheim’s errand had fallen out ill, at which he was not surprised, - and that his old enemy was again in his path, at which (as I verily - believe) he was more glad than sorry. As Rudolf entered, he had been - half-way between window and table; he came forward to the table now, and - stood leaning the points of two fingers on the unpolished dirty-white - deal. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, the play-actor!” said he, with a gleam of his teeth and a toss of his - curls, while his second hand, like Mr. Rassendyll’s, rested in the pocket - of his coat. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Rassendyll himself has confessed that in old days it went against the - grain with him when Rupert called him a play-actor. He was a little older - now, and his temper more difficult to stir. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the play-actor,” he answered, smiling. “With a shorter part this - time, though.” - </p> - <p> - “What part to-day? Isn’t it the old one, the king with a pasteboard - crown?” asked Rupert, sitting down on the table. “Faith, we shall do - handsomely in Ruritania: you have a pasteboard crown, and I (humble man - though I am) have given the other one a heavenly crown. What a brave show! - But perhaps I tell you news?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I know what you’ve done.” - </p> - <p> - “I take no credit. It was more the dog’s doing than mine,” said Rupert - carelessly. “However, there it is, and dead he is, and there’s an end of - it. What’s your business, play-actor?” - </p> - <p> - At the repetition of this last word, to her so mysterious, the girl - outside pressed her eyes more eagerly to the chink and strained her ears - to listen more sedulously. And what did the count mean by the “other one” - and “a heavenly crown”? - </p> - <p> - “Why not call me king?” asked Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “They call you that in Strelsau?” - </p> - <p> - “Those that know I’m here.” - </p> - <p> - “And they are—?” - </p> - <p> - “Some few score.” - </p> - <p> - “And thus,” said Rupert, waving an arm towards the window, “the town is - quiet and the flags fly?” - </p> - <p> - “You’ve been waiting to see them lowered?” - </p> - <p> - “A man likes to have some notice taken of what he has done,” Rupert - complained. “However, I can get them lowered when I will.” - </p> - <p> - “By telling your news? Would that be good for yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “Forgive me—not that way. Since the king has two lives, it is but in - nature that he should have two deaths.” - </p> - <p> - “And when he has undergone the second?” - </p> - <p> - “I shall live at peace, my friend, on a certain source of income that I - possess.” He tapped his breast-pocket with a slight, defiant laugh. “In - these days,” said he, “even queens must be careful about their letters. We - live in moral times.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t share the responsibility for it,” said Rudolf, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “I make my little protest. But what’s your business, play-actor? For I - think you’re rather tiresome.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf grew grave. He advanced towards the table, and spoke in low, - serious tones. - </p> - <p> - “My lord, you’re alone in this matter now. Rischenheim is a prisoner; your - rogue Bauer I encountered last night and broke his head.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you did?” - </p> - <p> - “You have what you know of in your hands. If you yield, on my honor I will - save your life.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t desire my blood, then, most forgiving play-actor?” - </p> - <p> - “So much, that I daren’t fail to offer you life,” answered Rudolf - Rassendyll. “Come, sir, your plan has failed: give up the letter.” - </p> - <p> - Rupert looked at him thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll see me safe off if I give it you?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll prevent your death. Yes, and I’ll see you safe.” - </p> - <p> - “Where to?” - </p> - <p> - “To a fortress, where a trustworthy gentleman will guard you.” - </p> - <p> - “For how long, my dear friend?” - </p> - <p> - “I hope for many years, my dear Count.” - </p> - <p> - “In fact, I suppose, as long as—?” - </p> - <p> - “Heaven leaves you to the world, Count. It’s impossible to set you free.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s the offer, then?” - </p> - <p> - “The extreme limit of indulgence,” answered Rudolf. Rupert burst into a - laugh, half of defiance, yet touched with the ring of true amusement. Then - he lit a cigarette and sat puffing and smiling. - </p> - <p> - “I should wrong you by straining your kindness so far,” said he; and in - wanton insolence, seeking again to show Mr. Rassendyll the mean esteem in - which he held him, and the weariness his presence was, he raised his arms - and stretched them above his head, as a man does in the fatigue of tedium. - “Heigho!” he yawned. - </p> - <p> - But he had overshot the mark this time. With a sudden swift bound Rudolf - was upon him; his hands gripped Rupert’s wrists, and with his greater - strength he bent back the count’s pliant body till trunk and head lay flat - on the table. Neither man spoke; their eyes met; each heard the other’s - breathing and felt the vapor of it on his face. The girl outside had seen - the movement of Rudolf’s figure, but her cranny did not serve her to show - her the two where they were now; she knelt on her knees in ignorant - suspense. Slowly and with a patient force Rudolf began to work his enemy’s - arms towards one another. Rupert had read his design in his eyes and - resisted with tense muscles. It seemed as though his arms must crack; but - at last they moved. Inch by inch they were driven closer; now the elbows - almost touched; now the wrists joined in reluctant contact. The sweat - broke out on the count’s brow, and stood in large drops on Rudolf’s. Now - the wrists were side by side, and slowly the long sinewy fingers of - Rudolf’s right hand, that held one wrist already in their vise, began to - creep round the other. The grip seemed to have half numbed Rupert’s arms, - and his struggles grew fainter. Round both wrists the sinewy fingers - climbed and coiled; gradually and timidly the grasp of the other hand was - relaxed and withdrawn. Would the one hold both? With a great spasm of - effort Rupert put it to the proof. - </p> - <p> - The smile that bent Mr. Rassendyll’s lips gave the answer. He could hold - both, with one hand he could hold both: not for long, no, but for an - instant. And then, in the instant, his left hand, free at last, shot to - the breast of the count’s coat. It was the same that he had worn at the - hunting-lodge, and was ragged and torn from the boar-hound’s teeth. Rudolf - tore it further open, and his hand dashed in. - </p> - <p> - “God’s curse on you!” snarled Rupert of Hentzau. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Rassendyll still smiled. Then he drew out a letter. A glance at it - showed him the queen’s seal. As he glanced Rupert made another effort. The - one hand, wearied out, gave way, and Mr. Rassendyll had no more than time - to spring away, holding his prize. The next moment he had his revolver in - his hand—none too soon, for Rupert of Hentzau’s barrel faced him, - and they stood thus, opposite to one another, with no more than three or - four feet between the mouths of their weapons. - </p> - <p> - There is, indeed, much that may be said against Rupert of Hentzau, the - truth about him well-nigh forbidding that charity of judgment which we are - taught to observe towards all men. But neither I nor any man who knew him - ever found in him a shrinking from danger or a fear of death. It was no - feeling such as these, but rather a cool calculation of chances, that now - stayed his hand. Even if he were victorious in the duel, and both did not - die, yet the noise of the firearms would greatly decrease his chances of - escape. Moreover, he was a noted swordsman, and conceived that he was Mr. - Rassendyll’s superior in that exercise. The steel offered him at once a - better prospect for victory and more hope of a safe fight. So he did not - pull his trigger, but, maintaining his aim the while, said: - </p> - <p> - “I’m not a street bully, and I don’t excel in a rough-and-tumble. Will you - fight now like a gentleman? There’s a pair of blades in the case yonder.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Rassendyll, in his turn, was keenly alive to the peril that still hung - over the queen. To kill Rupert would not save her if he himself also were - shot and left dead, or so helpless that he could not destroy the letter; - and while Rupert’s revolver was at his heart he could not tear it up nor - reach the fire that burnt on the other side of the room. Nor did he fear - the result of a trial with steel, for he had kept himself in practice and - improved his skill since the days when he came first to Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - “As you will,” said he. “Provided we settle the matter here and now, the - manner is the same to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Put your revolver on the table, then, and I’ll lay mine by the side of - it.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon,” smiled Rudolf, “but you must lay yours down first.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m to trust you, it seems, but you won’t trust me!” - </p> - <p> - “Precisely. You know you can trust me; you know that I can’t trust you.” - </p> - <p> - A sudden flush swept over Rupert of Hentzau’s face. There were moments - when he saw, in the mirror of another’s face or words, the estimation in - which honorable men held him; and I believe that he hated Mr. Rassendyll - most fiercely, not for thwarting his enterprise, but because he had more - power than any other man to show him that picture. His brows knit in a - frown, and his lips shut tight. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, but though you won’t fire, you’ll destroy the letter,” he sneered. “I - know your fine distinctions.” - </p> - <p> - “Again I beg your pardon. You know very well that, although all Strelsau - were at the door, I wouldn’t touch the letter.” - </p> - <p> - With an angry muttered oath Rupert flung his revolver on the table. Rudolf - came forward and laid his by it. Then he took up both, and, crossing to - the mantelpiece, laid them there; between there he placed the queen’s - letter. A bright blaze burnt in the grate; it needed but the slightest - motion of his hand to set the letter beyond all danger. But he placed it - carefully on the mantelpiece, and, with a slight smile on his face, turned - to Rupert, saying: “Now shall we resume the bout that Fritz von Tarlenheim - interrupted in the forest of Zenda?” - </p> - <p> - All this while they had been speaking in subdued accents, resolution in - one, anger in the other, keeping the voice in an even, deliberate lowness. - The girl outside caught only a word here and there; but now suddenly the - flash of steel gleamed on her eyes through the crevice of the hinge. She - gave a sudden gasp, and, pressing her face closer to the opening, listened - and looked. For Rupert of Hentzau had taken the swords from their case and - put them on the table. With a slight bow Rudolf took one, and the two - assumed their positions. Suddenly Rupert lowered his point. The frown - vanished from his face, and he spoke in his usual bantering tone. - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” said he, “perhaps we’re letting our feelings run away with - us. Have you more of a mind now to be King of Ruritania? If so, I’m ready - to be the most faithful of your subjects.” - </p> - <p> - “You honor me, Count.” - </p> - <p> - “Provided, of course, that I’m one of the most favored and the richest. - Come, come, the fool is dead now; he lived like a fool and he died like a - fool. The place is empty. A dead man has no rights and suffers no wrongs. - Damn it, that’s good law, isn’t it? Take his place and his wife. You can - pay my price then. Or are you still so virtuous? Faith, how little some - men learn from the world they live in! If I had your chance!” - </p> - <p> - “Come, Count, you’d be the last man to trust Rupert of Hentzau.” - </p> - <p> - “If I made it worth his while?” - </p> - <p> - “But he’s a man who would take the pay and betray his associate.” - </p> - <p> - Again Rupert flushed. When he next spoke his voice was hard, cold, and - low. - </p> - <p> - “By God, Rudolf Rassendyll,” said he, “I’ll kill you here and now.” - </p> - <p> - “I ask no better than that you should try.” - </p> - <p> - “And then I’ll proclaim that woman for what she is in all Strelsau.” A - smile came on his lips as he watched Rudolf’s face. - </p> - <p> - “Guard yourself, my lord,” said Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, for no better than—There, man, I’m ready for you.” For Rudolf’s - blade had touched his in warning. - </p> - <p> - The steel jangled. The girl’s pale face was at the crevice of the hinge. - She heard the blades cross again and again. Then one would run up the - other with a sharp, grating slither. At times she caught a glimpse of a - figure in quick forward lunge or rapid wary withdrawal. Her brain was - almost paralyzed. - </p> - <p> - Ignorant of the mind and heart of young Rupert, she could not conceive - that he tried to kill the king. Yet the words she had caught sounded like - the words of men quarreling, and she could not persuade herself that the - gentlemen fenced only for pastime. They were not speaking now; but she - heard their hard breathing and the movement of their unresting feet on the - bare boards of the floor. Then a cry rang out, clear and merry with the - fierce hope of triumph: “Nearly! nearly!” - </p> - <p> - She knew the voice for Rupert of Hentzau’s, and it was the king who - answered calmly, “Nearly isn’t quite.” - </p> - <p> - Again she listened. They seemed to have paused for a moment, for there was - no sound, save of the hard breathing and deep-drawn pants of men who rest - an instant in the midst of intense exertion. Then came again the clash and - the slitherings; and one of them crossed into her view. She knew the tall - figure and she saw the red hair: it was the king. Backward step by step he - seemed to be driven, coming nearer and nearer to the door. At last there - was no more than a foot between him and her; only the crazy panel - prevented her putting out her hand to touch him. Again the voice of Rupert - rang out in rich exultation, “I have you now! Say your prayers, King - Rudolf!” - </p> - <p> - “Say your prayers!” Then they fought. It was earnest, not play. And it was - the king—her king—her dear king, who was in great peril of his - life. For an instant she knelt, still watching. Then with a low cry of - terror she turned and ran headlong down the steep stairs. Her mind could - not tell what to do, but her heart cried out that she must do something - for her king. Reaching the ground floor, she ran with wide-open eyes into - the kitchen. The stew was on the hob, the old woman still held the spoon, - but she had ceased to stir and fallen into a chair. - </p> - <p> - “He’s killing the king! He’s killing the king!” cried Rosa, seizing her - mother by the arm. “Mother, what shall we do? He’s killing the king!” - </p> - <p> - The old woman looked up with dull eyes and a stupid, cunning smile. - </p> - <p> - “Let them alone,” she said. “There’s no king here.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes. He’s upstairs in the count’s room. They’re fighting, he and the - Count of Hentzau. Mother, Count Rupert will kill—” - </p> - <p> - “Let them alone. He the king? He’s no king,” muttered the old woman again. - </p> - <p> - For an instant Rosa stood looking down on her in helpless despair. Then a - light flashed into her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I must call for help,” she cried. - </p> - <p> - The old woman seemed to spring to sudden life. She jumped up and caught - her daughter by the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” she whispered in quick accents. “You—you don’t know. Let - them alone, you fool! It’s not our business. Let them alone.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me go, mother, let me go! Mother, I must help the king!” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll not let you go,” said Mother Holf. - </p> - <p> - But Rosa was young and strong; her heart was fired with terror for the - king’s danger. - </p> - <p> - “I must go,” she cried; and she flung her mother’s grasp off from her so - that the old woman was thrown back into her chair, and the spoon fell from - her hand and clattered on the tiles. But Rosa turned and fled down the - passage and through the shop. The bolts delayed her trembling fingers for - an instant. Then she flung the door wide. A new amazement filled her eyes - at the sight of the eager crowd before the house. Then her eyes fell on me - where I stood between the lieutenant and Rischenheim, and she uttered her - wild cry, “Help! The king!” - </p> - <p> - With one bound I was by her side and in the house, while Bernenstein - cried, “Quicker!” from behind. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. THE TRIUMPH OF THE KING - </h2> - <p> - THE things that men call presages, presentiments, and so forth, are, to my - mind, for the most part idle nothings: sometimes it is only that probable - events cast before them a natural shadow which superstitious fancy twists - into a Heaven sent warning; oftener the same desire that gives conception - works fulfilment, and the dreamer sees in the result of his own act and - will a mysterious accomplishment independent of his effort. Yet when I - observe thus calmly and with good sense on the matter to the Constable of - Zenda, he shakes his head and answers, “But Rudolf Rassendyll knew from - the first that he would come again to Strelsau and engage young Rupert - point to point. Else why did he practise with the foils so as to be a - better swordsman the second time than he was the first? Mayn’t God do - anything that Fritz von Tarlenheim can’t understand? a pretty notion, on - my life!” And he goes off grumbling. - </p> - <p> - Well, be it inspiration, or be it delusion—and the difference stands - often on a hair’s breadth—I am glad that Rudolf had it. For if a man - once grows rusty, it is everything short of impossible to put the fine - polish on his skill again. Mr. Rassendyll had strength, will, coolness, - and, of course, courage. None would have availed had not his eye been in - perfect familiarity with its work, and his hand obeyed it as readily as - the bolt slips in a well-oiled groove. As the thing stood, the lithe - agility and unmatched dash of young Rupert but just missed being too much - for him. He was in deadly peril when the girl Rosa ran down to bring him - aid. His practised skill was able to maintain his defence. He sought to do - no more, but endured Rupert’s fiery attack and wily feints in an almost - motionless stillness. Almost, I say; for the slight turns of wrist that - seem nothing are everything, and served here to keep his skin whole and - his life in him. - </p> - <p> - There was an instant—Rudolf saw it in his eyes and dwelt on it when - he lightly painted the scene for me—when there dawned on Rupert of - Hentzau the knowledge that he could not break down his enemy’s guard. - Surprise, chagrin, amusement, or something like it, seemed blended in his - look. He could not make out how he was caught and checked in every effort, - meeting, it seemed, a barrier of iron impregnable in rest. His quick brain - grasped the lesson in an instant. If his skill were not the greater, the - victory would not be his, for his endurance was the less. He was younger, - and his frame was not so closely knit; pleasure had taken its tithe from - him; perhaps a good cause goes for something. Even while he almost pressed - Rudolf against the panel of the door, he seemed to know that his measure - of success was full. But what the hand could not compass the head might - contrive. In quickly conceived strategy he began to give pause in his - attack, nay, he retreated a step or two. No scruples hampered his devices, - no code of honor limited the means he would employ. Backing before his - opponent, he seemed to Rudolf to be faint-hearted; he was baffled, but - seemed despairing; he was weary, but played a more complete fatigue. - Rudolf advanced, pressing and attacking, only to meet a defence as perfect - as his own. They were in the middle of the room now, close by the table. - Rupert, as though he had eyes in the back of his head, skirted round, - avoiding it by a narrow inch. His breathing was quick and distressed, gasp - tumbling over gasp, but still his eye was alert and his hand unerring. He - had but a few moments’ more effort left in him: it was enough if he could - reach his goal and perpetrate the trick on which his mind, fertile in - every base device, was set. For it was towards the mantelpiece that his - retreat, seeming forced, in truth so deliberate, led him. There was the - letter, there lay the revolvers. The time to think of risks was gone by; - the time to boggle over what honor allowed or forbade had never come to - Rupert of Hentzau. If he could not win by force and skill, he would win by - guile and by treachery, to the test that he had himself invited. The - revolvers lay on the mantelpiece: he meant to possess himself of one, if - he could gain an instant in which to snatch it. - </p> - <p> - The device that he adopted was nicely chosen. It was too late to call a - rest or ask breathing space: Mr. Rassendyll was not blind to the advantage - he had won, and chivalry would have turned to folly had it allowed such - indulgence. Rupert was hard by the mantelpiece now. The sweat was pouring - from his face, and his breast seemed like to burst in the effort after - breath; yet he had enough strength for his purpose. He must have slackened - his hold on his weapon, for when Rudolf’s blade next struck it, it flew - from his hand, twirled out of a nerveless grasp, and slid along the floor. - Rupert stood disarmed, and Rudolf motionless. - </p> - <p> - “Pick it up,” said Mr. Rassendyll, never thinking there had been a trick. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and you’ll truss me while I do it.” - </p> - <p> - “You young fool, don’t you know me yet?” and Rudolf, lowering his blade, - rested its point on the floor, while with his left hand he indicated - Rupert’s weapon. Yet something warned him: it may be there came a look in - Rupert’s eyes, perhaps of scorn for his enemy’s simplicity, perhaps of - pure triumph in the graceless knavery. Rudolf stood waiting. - </p> - <p> - “You swear you won’t touch me while I pick it up?” asked Rupert, shrinking - back a little, and thereby getting an inch or two nearer the mantelpiece. - </p> - <p> - “You have my promise: pick it up. I won’t wait any longer.” - </p> - <p> - “You won’t kill me unarmed?” cried Rupert, in alarmed scandalized - expostulation. - </p> - <p> - “No; but—” - </p> - <p> - The speech went unfinished, unless a sudden cry were its ending. And, as - he cried, Rudolf Rassendyll, dropping his sword on the ground, sprang - forward. For Rupert’s hand had shot out behind him and was on the butt of - one of the revolvers. The whole trick flashed on Rudolf, and he sprang, - flinging his long arms round Rupert. But Rupert had the revolver in his - hand. - </p> - <p> - In all likelihood the two neither heard nor heeded, though it seemed to me - that the creaks and groans of the old stairs were loud enough to wake the - dead. For now Rosa had given the alarm, Bernenstein and I—or I and - Bernenstein (for I was first, and, therefore, may put myself first)—had - rushed up. Hard behind us came Rischenheim, and hot on his heels a score - of fellows, pushing and shouldering and trampling. We in front had a fair - start, and gained the stairs unimpeded; Rischenheim was caught up in the - ruck and gulfed in the stormy, tossing group that struggled for first - footing on the steps. Yet, soon they were after us, and we heard them - reach the first landing as we sped up to the last. There was a confused - din through all the house, and it seemed now to echo muffled and vague - through the walls from the street without. I was conscious of it, although - I paid no heed to anything but reaching the room where the king—where - Rudolf—was. Now I was there, Bernenstein hanging to my heels. The - door did not hold us a second. I was in, he after me. He slammed the door - and set his back against it, just as the rush of feet flooded the highest - flight of stairs. And at the moment a revolver shot rang clear and loud. - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant and I stood still, he against the door, I a pace farther - into the room. The sight we saw was enough to arrest us with its strange - interest. The smoke of the shot was curling about, but neither man seemed - wounded. The revolver was in Rupert’s hand, and its muzzle smoked. But - Rupert was jammed against the wall, just by the side of the mantelpiece. - With one hand Rudolf had pinned his left arm to the wainscoting higher - than his head, with the other he held his right wrist. I drew slowly - nearer: if Rudolf were unarmed, I could fairly enforce a truce and put - them on an equality; yet, though Rudolf was unarmed, I did nothing. The - sight of his face stopped me. He was very pale and his lips were set, but - it was his eyes that caught my gaze, for they were glad and merciless. I - had never seen him look thus before. I turned from him to young Hentzau’s - face. Rupert’s teeth were biting his under lip, the sweat dropped, and the - veins swelled large and blue on his forehead; his eyes were set on Rudolf - Rassendyll. Fascinated, I drew nearer. Then I saw what passed. Inch by - inch Rupert’s arm curved, the elbow bent, the hand that had pointed almost - straight from him and at Mr. Rassendyll pointed now away from both towards - the window. But its motion did not stop; it followed the line of a circle: - now it was on Rupert’s arm; still it moved, and quicker now, for the power - of resistance grew less. Rupert was beaten; he felt it and knew it, and I - read the knowledge in his eyes. I stepped up to Rudolf Rassendyll. He - heard or felt me, and turned his eyes for an instant. I do not know what - my face said, but he shook his head and turned back to Rupert. The - revolver, held still in the man’s own hand, was at his heart. The motion - ceased, the point was reached. - </p> - <p> - I looked again at Rupert. Now his face was easier; there was a slight - smile on his lips; he flung back his comely head and rested thus against - the wainscoting; his eyes asked a question of Rudolf Rassendyll. I turned - my gaze to where the answer was to come, for Rudolf made none in words. By - the swiftest of movements he shifted his grasp from Rupert’s wrist and - pounced on his hand. Now his forefinger rested on Rupert’s and Rupert’s - was on the trigger. I am no soft-heart, but I laid a hand on his shoulder. - He took no heed; I dared do no more. Rupert glanced at me. I caught his - look, but what could I say to him? Again my eyes were riveted on Rudolf’s - finger. Now it was crooked round Rupert’s, seeming like a man who - strangles another. - </p> - <p> - I will not say more. He smiled to the last; his proud head, which had - never bent for shame, did not bend for fear. There was a sudden tightening - in the pressure of that crooked forefinger, a flash, a noise. He was held - up against the wall for an instant by Rudolf’s hand; when that was removed - he sank, a heap that looked all head and knees. - </p> - <p> - But hot on the sound of the discharge came a shout and an oath from - Bernenstein. He was hurled away from the door, and through it burst - Rischenheim and the whole score after him. They were jostling one another - and crying out to know what passed and where the king was. High over all - the voices, coming from the back of the throng, I heard the cry of the - girl Rosa. But as soon as they were in the room, the same spell that had - fastened Bernenstein and me to inactivity imposed its numbing power on - them also. Only Rischenheim gave a sudden sob and ran forward to where his - cousin lay. The rest stood staring. For a moment Rudolf eyed them. Then, - without a word, he turned his back. He put out the right hand with which - he had just killed Rupert of Hentzau, and took the letter from the - mantelpiece. He glanced at the envelope, then he opened the letter. The - handwriting banished any last doubt he had; he tore the letter across, and - again in four pieces, and yet again in smaller fragments. Then he - sprinkled the morsels of paper into the blaze of the fire. I believe that - every eye in the room followed them and watched till they curled and - crinkled into black, wafery ashes. Thus, at last the queen’s letter was - safe. - </p> - <p> - When he had thus set the seal on his task he turned round to us again. He - paid no heed to Rischenheim, who was crouching down by the body of Rupert; - but he looked at Bernenstein and me, and then at the people behind us. He - waited a moment before he spoke; then his utterance was not only calm but - also very slow, so that he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” said he, “a full account of this matter will be rendered by - myself in due time. For the present it must suffice to say that this - gentleman who lies here dead sought an interview with me on private - business. I came here to find him, desiring, as he professed, to desire, - privacy. And here he tried to kill me. The result of his attempt you see.” - </p> - <p> - I bowed low, Bernenstein did the like, and all the rest followed our - example. - </p> - <p> - “A full account shall be given,” said Rudolf. “Now let all leave me, - except the Count of Tarlenheim and Lieutenant von Bernenstein.” - </p> - <p> - Most unwillingly, with gaping mouths and wonder-struck eyes, the throng - filed out of the door. Rischenheim rose to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “You stay, if you like,” said Rudolf, and the count knelt again by his - kinsman. - </p> - <p> - Seeing the rough bedsteads by the wall of the attic, I touched Rischenheim - on the shoulder and pointed to one of them. Together we lifted Rupert of - Hentzau. The revolver was still in his hand, but Bernenstein disengaged it - from his grasp. Then Rischenheim and I laid him down, disposing his body - decently and spreading over it his riding cloak, still spotted with the - mud gathered on his midnight expedition to the hunting-lodge. His face - looked much as before the shot was fired; in death, as in life, he was the - handsomest fellow in all Ruritania. I wager that many tender hearts ached - and many bright eyes were dimmed for him when the news of his guilt and - death went forth. There are ladies still in Strelsau who wear his trinkets - in an ashamed devotion that cannot forget. Well, even I, who had every - good cause to hate and scorn him, set the hair smooth on his brow; while - Rischenheim was sobbing like a child, and young Bernenstein rested his - head on his arm as he leant on the mantelpiece, and would not look at the - dead. Rudolf alone seemed not to heed him or think of him. His eyes had - lost their unnatural look of joy, and were now calm and tranquil. He took - his own revolver from the mantelpiece and put it in his pocket, laying - Rupert’s neatly where his had been. Then he turned to me and said: - </p> - <p> - “Come, let us go to the queen and tell her that the letter is beyond reach - of hurt.” - </p> - <p> - Moved by some impulse, I walked to the window and put my head out. I was - seen from below, and a great shout greeted me. The crowd before the doors - grew every moment; the people flocking from all quarters would soon - multiply it a hundred fold; for such news as had been carried from the - attic by twenty wondering tongues spreads like a forest-fire. It would be - through Strelsau in a few minutes, through the kingdom in an hour, through - Europe in but little longer. Rupert was dead and the letter was safe, but - what were we to tell that great concourse concerning their king? A queer - feeling of helpless perplexity came over me and found vent in a foolish - laugh. Bernenstein was by my side; he also looked out, and turned again - with an eager face. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll have a royal progress to your palace,” said he to Rudolf - Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Rassendyll made no answer, but, coming to me, took my arm. We went - out, leaving Rischenheim by the body. I did not think of him; Bernenstein - probably thought that he would keep his pledge given to the queen, for he - followed us immediately and without demur. There was nobody outside the - door. The house was very quiet, and the tumult from the street reached us - only in a muffled roar. But when we came to the foot of the stairs we - found the two women. Mother Holf stood on the threshold of the kitchen, - looking amazed and terrified. Rosa was clinging to her; but as soon as - Rudolf came in sight, the girl sprang forward and flung herself on her - knees before him, pouring out incoherent thanks to Heaven for his safety. - He bent down and spoke to her in a whisper; she looked up with a flush of - pride on her face. He seemed to hesitate a moment; he glanced at his - hands, but he wore no ring save that which the queen had given him long - ago. Then he disengaged his chain and took his gold watch from his pocket. - Turning it over, he showed me the monogram, R. R. - </p> - <p> - “Rudolfus Rex,” he whispered with a whimsical smile, and pressed the watch - into the girl’s hand, saying: “Keep this to remind you of me.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed and sobbed as she caught it with one hand, while with the - other she held his. - </p> - <p> - “You must let go,” he said gently. “I have much to do.” - </p> - <p> - I took her by the arm and induced her to rise. Rudolf, released, passed on - to where the old woman stood. He spoke to her in a stern, distinct voice. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” he said, “how far you are a party to the plot that was - hatched in your house. For the present I am content not to know, for it is - no pleasure to me to detect disloyalty or to punish an old woman. But take - care! The first word you speak, the first act you do against me, the king, - will bring its certain and swift punishment. If you trouble me, I won’t - spare you. In spite of traitors I am still king in Strelsau.” - </p> - <p> - He paused, looking hard in her face. Her lip quivered and her eyes fell. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he repeated, “I am king in Strelsau. Keep your hands out of - mischief and your tongue quiet.” - </p> - <p> - She made no answer. He passed on. I was following, but as I went by her - the old woman clutched my arm. “In God’s name, who is he?” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Are you mad?” I asked, lifting my brows. “Don’t you know the king when he - speaks to you? And you’d best remember what he said. He has servants - who’ll do his orders.” - </p> - <p> - She let me go and fell back a step. Young Bernenstein smiled at her; he at - least found more pleasure than anxiety in our position. Thus, then, we - left them: the old woman terrified, amazed, doubtful; the girl with ruddy - cheeks and shining eyes, clasping in her two hands the keepsake that the - king himself had given her. - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein had more presence of mind than I. He ran forward, got in front - of both of us, and flung the door open. Then, bowing very low, he stood - aside to let Rudolf pass. The street was full from end to end now, and a - mighty shout of welcome rose from thousands of throats. Hats and - handkerchiefs were waved in mad exultation and triumphant loyalty. The - tidings of the king’s escape had flashed through the city, and all were - there to do him honor. They had seized some gentleman’s landau and taken - out the horses. The carriage stood now before the doors of the house. - Rudolf had waited a moment on the threshold, lifting his hat once or - twice; his face was perfectly calm, and I saw no trembling in his hands. - In an instant a dozen arms took gentle hold of him and impelled him - forward. He mounted into the carriage; Bernenstein and I followed, with - bare heads, and sat on the back seat, facing him. The people were round as - thick as bees, and it seemed as though we could not move without crushing - somebody. Yet presently the wheels turned, and they began to drag us away - at a slow walk. Rudolf kept raising his hat, bowing now to right, now to - left. But once, as he turned, his eyes met ours. In spite of what was - behind and what was in front, we all three smiled. - </p> - <p> - “I wish they’d go a little quicker,” said Rudolf in a whisper, as he - conquered his smile and turned again to acknowledge the loyal greetings of - his subjects. - </p> - <p> - But what did they know of any need for haste? They did not know what stood - on the turn of the next few hours, nor the momentous question that pressed - for instant decision. So far from hurrying, they lengthened our ride by - many pauses; they kept us before the cathedral, while some ran and got the - joy bells set ringing; we were stopped to receive improvised bouquets from - the hands of pretty girls and impetuous hand-shakings from enthusiastic - loyalists. Through it all Rudolf kept his composure, and seemed to play - his part with native kingliness. I heard Bernenstein whisper, “By God, we - must stick to it!” - </p> - <p> - At last we came in sight of the palace. Here also there was a great stir. - Many officers and soldiers were about. I saw the chancellor’s carriage - standing near the portico, and a dozen other handsome equipages were - waiting till they could approach. Our human horses drew us slowly up to - the entrance. Helsing was on the steps, and ran down to the carriage, - greeting the king with passionate fervor. The shouts of the crowd grew - louder still. - </p> - <p> - But suddenly a stillness fell on them; it lasted but an instant, and was - the prelude to a deafening roar. I was looking at Rudolf and saw his head - turn suddenly and his eyes grow bright. I looked where his eyes had gone. - There, on the top step of the broad marble flight, stood the queen, pale - as the marble itself, stretching out her hands towards Rudolf. The people - had seen her: she it was whom this last rapturous cheer greeted. My wife - stood close behind her, and farther back others of her ladies. Bernenstein - and I sprang out. With a last salute to the people Rudolf followed us. He - walked up to the highest step but one, and there fell on one knee and - kissed the queen’s hand. I was by him, and when he looked up in her face I - heard him say: - </p> - <p> - “All’s well. He’s dead, and the letter burnt.” - </p> - <p> - She raised him with her hand. Her lips moved, but it seemed as though she - could find no words to speak. She put her arm through his, and thus they - stood for an instant, fronting all Strelsau. Again the cheers rang out, - and young Bernenstein sprang forward, waving his helmet and crying like a - man possessed, “God save the king!” I was carried away by his enthusiasm - and followed his lead. All the people took up the cry with boundless - fervor, and thus we all, high and low in Strelsau, that afternoon hailed - Mr. Rassendyll for our king. There had been no such zeal since Henry the - Lion came back from his wars, a hundred and fifty years ago. - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” observed old Helsing at my elbow, “agitators say that there is - no enthusiasm for the house of Elphberg!” He took a pinch of snuff in - scornful satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - Young Bernenstein interrupted his cheering with a short laugh, but fell to - his task again in a moment. I had recovered my senses by now, and stood - panting, looking down on the crowd. It was growing dusk and the faces - became blurred into a white sea. Yet suddenly I seemed to discern one - glaring up at me from the middle of the crowd—the pale face of a man - with a bandage about his head. I caught Bernenstein’s arm and whispered, - “Bauer,” pointing with my finger where the face was. But, even as I - pointed, it was gone; though it seemed impossible for a man to move in - that press, yet it was gone. It had come like a cynic’s warning across the - scene of mock triumph, and went swiftly as it had come, leaving behind it - a reminder of our peril. I felt suddenly sick at heart, and almost cried - out to the people to have done with their silly shouting. - </p> - <p> - At last we got away. The plea of fatigue met all visitors who made their - way to the door and sought to offer their congratulations; it could not - disperse the crowd that hung persistently and contentedly about, ringing - us in the palace with a living fence. We still heard their jests and - cheers when we were alone in the small saloon that opens on the gardens. - My wife and I had come here at Rudolf’s request; Bernenstein had assumed - the duty of guarding the door. Evening was now falling fast, and it grew - dark. The garden was quiet; the distant noise of the crowd threw its - stillness into greater relief. Rudolf told us there the story of his - struggle with Rupert of Hentzau in the attic of the old house, dwelling on - it as lightly as he could. The queen stood by his chair—she would - not let him rise; when he finished by telling how he had burnt her letter, - she stooped suddenly and kissed him off the brow. Then she looked straight - across at Helga, almost defiantly; but Helga ran to her and caught her in - her arms. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf Rassendyll sat with his head resting on his hand. He looked up once - at the two women; then he caught my eye, and beckoned me to come to him. I - approached him, but for several moments he did not speak. Again he - motioned to me, and, resting my hand on the arm of his chair, I bent my - head close down to his. He glanced again at the queen, seeming afraid that - she would hear what he wished to say. - </p> - <p> - “Fritz,” he whispered at last, “as soon as it’s fairly dark I must get - away. Bernenstein will come with me. You must stay here.” - </p> - <p> - “Where can you go?” - </p> - <p> - “To the lodge. I must meet Sapt and arrange matters with him.” - </p> - <p> - I did not understand what plan he had in his head, or what scheme he could - contrive. But at the moment my mind was not directed to such matters; it - was set on the sight before my eyes. - </p> - <p> - “And the queen?” I whispered in answer to him. - </p> - <p> - Low as my voice was, she heard it. She turned to us with a sudden, - startled movement, still holding Helga’s hand. Her eyes searched our - faces, and she knew in an instant of what we had been speaking. A little - longer still she stood, gazing at us. Then she suddenly sprang forward and - threw herself on her knees before Rudolf, her hands uplifted and resting - on his shoulders. She forgot our presence, and everything in the world, - save her great dread of losing him again. - </p> - <p> - “Not again, Rudolf, my darling! Not again! Rudolf, I can’t bear it again.” - </p> - <p> - Then she dropped her head on his knees and sobbed. - </p> - <p> - He raised his hand and gently stroked the gleaming hair. But he did not - look at her. He gazed out at the garden, which grew dark and dreary in the - gathering gloom. His lips were tight set and his face pale and drawn. - </p> - <p> - I watched him for a moment, then I drew my wife away, and we sat down at a - table some way off. From outside still came the cheers and tumult of the - joyful, excited crowd. Within there was no sound but the queen’s stifled - sobbing. Rudolf caressed her shining hair and gazed into the night with - sad, set eyes. She raised her head and looked into his face. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll break my heart,” she said. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. FOR OUR LOVE AND HER HONOR - </h2> - <p> - RUPERT of Hentzau was dead! That was the thought which, among all our - perplexities, came back to me, carrying with it a wonderful relief. To - those who have not learnt in fighting against him the height of his - audacity and the reach of his designs, it may well seem incredible that - his death should breed comfort at a moment when the future was still so - dark and uncertain. Yet to me it was so great a thing that I could hardly - bring myself to the conviction that we had done with him. True, he was - dead; but could he not strike a blow at us even from beyond the gulf? - </p> - <p> - Such were the half-superstitious thoughts that forced their way into my - mind as I stood looking out on the crowd which obstinately encircled the - front of the palace. I was alone; Rudolf was with the queen, my wife was - resting, Bernenstein had sat down to a meal for which I could find no - appetite. By an effort I freed myself from my fancies and tried to - concentrate my brain on the facts of our position. We were ringed round - with difficulties. To solve them was beyond my power; but I knew where my - wish and longing lay. I had no desire to find means by which Rudolf - Rassendyll should escape unknown from Strelsau; the king, although dead, - be again in death the king, and the queen be left desolate on her mournful - and solitary throne. It might be that a brain more astute than mine could - bring all this to pass. My imagination would have none of it, but dwelt - lovingly on the reign of him who was now king in Strelsau, declaring that - to give the kingdom such a ruler would be a splendid fraud, and prove a - stroke so bold as to defy detection. Against it stood only the suspicions - of Mother Holf—fear or money would close her lips—and the - knowledge of Bauer; Bauer’s mouth also could be shut, ay, and should be - before we were many days older. My reverie led me far; I saw the future - years unroll before me in the fair record of a great king’s sovereignty. - It seemed to me that by the violence and bloodshed we had passed through, - fate, for once penitent, was but righting the mistake made when Rudolf was - not born a king. - </p> - <p> - For a long while I stood thus, musing and dreaming; I was roused by the - sound of the door opening and closing; turning, I saw the queen. She was - alone, and came towards me with timid steps. She looked out for a moment - on the square and the people, but drew back suddenly in apparent fear lest - they should see her. Then she sat down and turned her face towards mine. I - read in her eyes something of the conflict of emotions which possessed - her; she seemed at once to deprecate my disapproval and to ask my - sympathy; she prayed me to be gentle to her fault and kind to her - happiness; self-reproach shadowed her joy, but the golden gleam of it - strayed through. I looked eagerly at her; this would not have been her - bearing had she come from a last farewell; for the radiance was there, - however much dimmed by sorrow and by fearfulness. - </p> - <p> - “Fritz,” she began softly, “I am wicked—so wicked. Won’t God punish - me for my gladness?” - </p> - <p> - I fear I paid little heed to her trouble, though I can understand it well - enough now. - </p> - <p> - “Gladness?” I cried in a low voice. “Then you’ve persuaded him?” - </p> - <p> - She smiled at me for an instant. - </p> - <p> - “I mean, you’ve agreed?” I stammered. - </p> - <p> - Her eyes again sought mine, and she said in a whisper: “Some day, not now. - Oh, not now. Now would be too much. But some day, Fritz, if God will not - deal too hardly with me, I—I shall be his, Fritz.” - </p> - <p> - I was intent on my vision, not on hers. I wanted him king; she did not - care what he was, so that he was hers, so that he should not leave her. - </p> - <p> - “He’ll take the throne,” I cried triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, no. Not the throne. He’s going away.” - </p> - <p> - “Going away!” I could not keep the dismay out of my voice. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, now. But not—not for ever. It will be long—oh, so long—but - I can bear it, if I know that at last!” She stopped, still looking up at - me with eyes that implored pardon and sympathy. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t understand,” said I, bluntly, and, I fear, gruffly, also. - </p> - <p> - “You were right,” she said: “I did persuade him. He wanted to go away - again as he went before. Ought I to have let him? Yes, yes! But I - couldn’t. Fritz, hadn’t I done enough? You don’t know what I’ve endured. - And I must endure more still. For he will go now, and the time will be - very long. But, at last, we shall be together. There is pity in God; we - shall be together at last.” - </p> - <p> - “If he goes now, how can he come back?” - </p> - <p> - “He will not come back; I shall go to him. I shall give up the throne and - go to him, some day, when I can be spared from here, when I’ve done my—my - work.” - </p> - <p> - I was aghast at this shattering of my vision, yet I could not be hard to - her. I said nothing, but took her hand and pressed it. - </p> - <p> - “You wanted him to be king?” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “With all my heart, madam,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “He wouldn’t, Fritz. No, and I shouldn’t dare to do that, either.” - </p> - <p> - I fell back on the practical difficulties. “But how can he go?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know. But he knows; he has a plan.” - </p> - <p> - We fell again into silence; her eyes grew more calm, and seemed to look - forward in patient hope to the time when her happiness should come to her. - I felt like a man suddenly robbed of the exaltation of wine and sunk to - dull apathy. “I don’t see how he can go,” I said sullenly. - </p> - <p> - She did not answer me. A moment later the door again opened. Rudolf came - in, followed by Bernenstein. Both wore riding boots and cloaks. I saw on - Bernenstein’s face just such a look of disappointment as I knew must be on - mine. Rudolf seemed calm and even happy. He walked straight up to the - queen. - </p> - <p> - “The horses will be ready in a few minutes,” he said gently. Then, turning - to me, he asked, “You know what we’re going to do, Fritz?” - </p> - <p> - “Not I, sire,” I answered, sulkily. - </p> - <p> - “Not I, sire!” he repeated, in a half-merry, half-sad mockery. Then he - came between Bernenstein and me and passed his arms through ours. “You two - villains!” he said. “You two unscrupulous villains! Here you are, as rough - as bears, because I won’t be a thief! Why have I killed young Rupert and - left you rogues alive?” - </p> - <p> - I felt the friendly pressure of his hand on my arm. I could not answer - him. With every word from his lips and every moment of his presence my - sorrow grew keener that he would not stay. Bernenstein looked across at me - and shrugged his shoulders despairingly. Rudolf gave a little laugh. - </p> - <p> - “You won’t forgive me for not being as great a rogue, won’t you?” he - asked. - </p> - <p> - Well, I found nothing to say, but I took my arm out of his and clasped his - hand. He gripped mine hard. - </p> - <p> - “That’s old Fritz!” he said; and he caught hold of Bernenstein’s hand, - which the lieutenant yielded with some reluctance. “Now for the plan,” - said he. “Bernenstein and I set out at once for the lodge—yes, - publicly, as publicly as we can. I shall ride right through the people - there, showing myself to as many as will look at me, and letting it be - known to everybody where I’m going. We shall get there quite early - to-morrow, before it’s light. There we shall find what you know. We shall - find Sapt, too, and he’ll put the finishing touches to our plan for us. - Hullo, what’s that?” - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden fresh shouting from the large crowd that still lingered - outside the palace. I ran to the window, and saw a commotion in the midst - of them. I flung the sash up. Then I heard a well-known, loud, strident - voice: “Make way, you rascals, make way.” - </p> - <p> - I turned round again, full of excitement. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Sapt himself!” I said. “He’s riding like mad through the crowd, and - your servant’s just behind him.” - </p> - <p> - “My God, what’s happened? Why have they left the lodge?” cried - Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - The queen looked up in startled alarm, and, rising to her feet, came and - passed her arm through Rudolf’s. Thus we all stood, listening to the - people good-naturedly cheering Sapt, whom they had recognized, and - bantering James, whom they took for a servant of the constable’s. - </p> - <p> - The minutes seemed very long as we waited in utter perplexity, almost in - consternation. The same thought was in the mind of all of us, silently - imparted by one to another in the glances we exchanged. What could have - brought them from their guard of the great secret, save its discovery? - They would never have left their post while the fulfilment of their trust - was possible. By some mishap, some unforeseen chance, the king’s body must - have been discovered. Then the king’s death was known, and the news of it - might any moment astonish and bewilder the city. - </p> - <p> - At last the door was flung open, and a servant announced the Constable of - Zenda. Sapt was covered with dust and mud, and James, who entered close on - his heels, was in no better plight. Evidently they had ridden hard and - furiously; indeed they were still panting. Sapt, with a most perfunctory - bow to the queen, came straight to where Rudolf stood. - </p> - <p> - “Is he dead?” he asked, without preface. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Rupert is dead,” answered Mr. Rassendyll: “I killed him.” - </p> - <p> - “And the letter?” - </p> - <p> - “I burnt it.” - </p> - <p> - “And Rischenheim?” - </p> - <p> - The queen struck in. - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim will say and do nothing against me,” she - said. - </p> - <p> - Sapt lifted his brows a little. “Well, and Bauer?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Bauer’s at large,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Hum! Well, it’s only Bauer,” said the constable, seeming tolerably well - pleased. Then his eyes fell on Rudolf and Bernenstein. He stretched out - his hand and pointed to their riding-boots. “Whither away so late at - night?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “First together to the lodge, to find you, then I alone to the frontier,” - said Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “One thing at a time. The frontier will wait. What does your Majesty want - with me at the lodge?” - </p> - <p> - “I want so to contrive that I shall be no longer your Majesty,” said - Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - Sapt flung himself into a chair and took off his gloves. - </p> - <p> - “Come, tell me what has happened to-day in Strelsau,” he said. - </p> - <p> - We gave a short and hurried account. He listened with few signs of - approval or disapproval, but I thought I saw a gleam in his eyes when I - described how all the city had hailed Rudolf as its king and the queen - received him as her husband before the eyes of all. Again the hope and - vision, shattered by Rudolf’s calm resolution, inspired me. Sapt said - little, but he had the air of a man with some news in reserve. He seemed - to be comparing what we told him with something already known to him but - unknown to us. The little servant stood all the while in respectful - stillness by the door; but I could see by a glance at his alert face that - he followed the whole scene with keen attention. - </p> - <p> - At the end of the story, Rudolf turned to Sapt. “And your secret—is - it safe?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, it’s safe enough!” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody has seen what you had to hide?” - </p> - <p> - “No; and nobody knows that the king is dead,” answered Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Then what brings you here?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, the same thing that was about to bring you to the lodge: the need of - a meeting between yourself and me, sire.” - </p> - <p> - “But the lodge—is it left unguarded?” - </p> - <p> - “The lodge is safe enough,” said Colonel Sapt. - </p> - <p> - Unquestionably there was a secret, a new secret, hidden behind the curt - words and brusque manner. I could restrain myself no longer, and sprang - forward, saying: “What is it? Tell us, Constable!” - </p> - <p> - He looked at me, then glanced at Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to hear your plan first,” he said to Rudolf. “How do you - mean to account for your presence alive in the city to-day, when the king - has lain dead in the shooting-box since last night?” - </p> - <p> - We drew close together as Rudolf began his answer. Sapt alone lay back in - his chair. The queen also had resumed her seat; she seemed to pay little - heed to what we said. I think that she was still engrossed with the - struggle and tumult in her own soul. The sin of which she accused herself, - and the joy to which her whole being sprang in a greeting which would not - be abashed, were at strife between themselves, but joined hands to exclude - from her mind any other thought. - </p> - <p> - “In an hour I must be gone from here,” began Rudolf. - </p> - <p> - “If you wish that, it’s easy,” observed Colonel Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Sapt, be reasonable,” smiled Mr. Rassendyll. “Early to-morrow, we—you - and I—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I also?” asked the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; you, Bernenstein, and I will be at the lodge.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s not impossible, though I have had nearly enough riding.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf fixed his eyes firmly on Sapt’s. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” he said, “the king reaches his hunting-lodge early in the - morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I follow you, sire.” - </p> - <p> - “And what happens there, Sapt? Does he shoot himself accidentally?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that happens sometimes.” - </p> - <p> - “Or does an assassin kill him?” - </p> - <p> - “Eh, but you’ve made the best assassin unavailable.” - </p> - <p> - Even at this moment I could not help smiling at the old fellow’s surly wit - and Rudolf’s amused tolerance of it. - </p> - <p> - “Or does his faithful attendant, Herbert, shoot him?” - </p> - <p> - “What, make poor Herbert a murderer!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no! By accident—and then, in remorse, kill himself.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s very pretty. But doctors have awkward views as to when a man can - have shot himself.” - </p> - <p> - “My good Constable, doctors have palms as well as ideas. If you fill the - one you supply the other.” - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said Sapt, “that both the plans are good. Suppose we choose the - latter, what then?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, then, by to-morrow at midday the news flashes through Ruritania—yes, - and through Europe—that the king, miraculously preserved to-day—” - </p> - <p> - “Praise be to God!” interjected Colonel Sapt; and young Bernenstein - laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Has met a tragic end.” - </p> - <p> - “It will occasion great grief,” said Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Meanwhile, I am safe over the frontier.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you are quite safe?” - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely. And in the afternoon of to-morrow, you and Bernenstein will - set out for Strelsau, bringing with you the body of the king.” And Rudolf, - after a pause, whispered, “You must shave his face. And if the doctors - want to talk about how long he’s been dead, why, they have, as I say, - palms.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt sat silent for a while, apparently considering the scheme. It was - risky enough in all conscience, but success had made Rudolf bold, and he - had learnt how slow suspicion is if a deception be bold enough. It is only - likely frauds that are detected. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what do you say?” asked Mr. Rassendyll. I observed that he said - nothing to Sapt of what the queen and he had determined to do afterwards. - </p> - <p> - Sapt wrinkled his forehead. I saw him glance at James, and the slightest, - briefest smile showed on James’s face. - </p> - <p> - “It’s dangerous, of course,” pursued Rudolf. “But I believe that when they - see the king’s body—” - </p> - <p> - “That’s the point,” interrupted Sapt. “They can’t see the king’s body.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf looked at him with some surprise. Then speaking in a low voice, - lest the queen should hear and be distressed, he went on: “You must - prepare it, you know. Bring it here in a shell; only a few officials need - see the face.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt rose to his feet and stood facing Mr. Rassendyll. - </p> - <p> - “The plan’s a pretty one, but it breaks down at one point,” said he in a - strange voice, even harsher than his was wont to be. I was on fire with - excitement, for I would have staked my life now that he had some strange - tidings for us. “There is no body,” said he. - </p> - <p> - Even Mr. Rassendyll’s composure gave way. He sprang forward, catching Sapt - by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “No body? What do you mean?” he exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - Sapt cast another glance at James, and then began in an even, mechanical - voice, as though he were reading a lesson he had learnt, or playing a part - that habit made familiar: - </p> - <p> - “That poor fellow Herbert carelessly left a candle burning where the oil - and the wood were kept,” he said. “This afternoon, about six, James and I - lay down for a nap after our meal. At about seven James came to my side - and roused me. My room was full of smoke. The lodge was ablaze. I darted - out of bed: the fire had made too much headway; we could not hope to - quench it; we had but one thought!” He suddenly paused, and looked at - James. - </p> - <p> - “But one thought, to save our companion,” said James gravely. - </p> - <p> - “But one thought, to save our companion. We rushed to the door of the room - where he was. I opened the door and tried to enter. It was certain death. - James tried, but fell back. Again I rushed in. James pulled me back: it - was but another death. We had to save ourselves. We gained the open air. - The lodge was a sheet of flame. We could do nothing but stand watching, - till the swiftly burning wood blackened to ashes and the flames died down. - As we watched we knew that all in the cottage must be dead. What could we - do? At last James started off in the hope of getting help. He found a - party of charcoal-burners, and they came with him. The flames were burnt - down now; and we and they approached the charred ruins. Everything was in - ashes. But”—he lowered his voice—“we found what seemed to be - the body of Boris the hound; in another room was a charred corpse, whose - hunting-horn, melted to a molten mass, told us that it had been Herbert - the forester. And there was another corpse, almost shapeless, utterly - unrecognizable. We saw it; the charcoal-burners saw it. Then more peasants - came round, drawn by the sight of the flames. None could tell who it was; - only I and James knew. And we mounted our horses and have ridden here to - tell the king.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt finished his lesson or his story. A sob burst from the queen, and she - hid her face in her hands. Bernenstein and I, amazed at this strange tale, - scarcely understanding whether it were jest or earnest, stood staring - stupidly at Sapt. Then I, overcome by the strange thing, turned - half-foolish by the bizarre mingling of comedy and impressiveness in - Sapt’s rendering of it, plucked him by the sleeve, and asked, with - something between a laugh and a gasp: - </p> - <p> - “Who had that other corpse been, Constable?” - </p> - <p> - He turned his small, keen eyes on me in persistent gravity and unflinching - effrontery. - </p> - <p> - “A Mr. Rassendyll, a friend of the king’s, who with his servant James was - awaiting his Majesty’s return from Strelsau. His servant here is ready to - start for England, to tell Mr. Rassendyll’s relatives the news.” - </p> - <p> - The queen had begun to listen before now; her eyes were fixed on Sapt, and - she had stretched out one arm to him, as if imploring him to read her his - riddle. But a few words had in truth declared his device plainly enough in - all its simplicity. Rudolf Rassendyll was dead, his body burnt to a - cinder, and the king was alive, whole, and on his throne in Strelsau. Thus - had Sapt caught from James, the servant, the infection of his madness, and - had fulfilled in action the strange imagination which the little man had - unfolded to him in order to pass their idle hours at the lodge. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Mr. Rassendyll spoke in clear, short tones. - </p> - <p> - “This is all a lie, Sapt,” said he, and his lips curled in contemptuous - amusement. - </p> - <p> - “It’s no lie that the lodge is burnt, and the bodies in it, and that half - a hundred of the peasants know it, and that no man could tell the body for - the king’s. As for the rest, it is a lie. But I think the truth in it is - enough to serve.” - </p> - <p> - The two men stood facing one another with defiant eyes. Rudolf had caught - the meaning of the great and audacious trick which Sapt and his companion - had played. It was impossible now to bring the king’s body to Strelsau; it - seemed no less impossible to declare that the man burnt in the lodge was - the king. Thus Sapt had forced Rudolf’s hand; he had been inspired by the - same vision as we, and endowed with more unshrinking boldness. But when I - saw how Rudolf looked at him, I did not know but that they would go from - the queen’s presence set on a deadly quarrel. Mr. Rassendyll, however, - mastered his temper. - </p> - <p> - “You’re all bent on having me a rascal,” he said coldly. “Fritz and - Bernenstein here urge me; you, Sapt, try to force me. James, there, is in - the plot, for all I know.” - </p> - <p> - “I suggested it, sir,” said James, not defiantly or with disrespect, but - as if in simple dutiful obedience to his master’s implied question. - </p> - <p> - “As I thought—all of you! Well, I won’t be forced. I see now that - there’s no way out of this affair, save one. That one I’ll follow.” - </p> - <p> - We none of us spoke, but waited till he should be pleased to continue. - </p> - <p> - “Of the queen’s letter I need say nothing and will say nothing,” he - pursued. “But I will tell them that I’m not the king, but Rudolf - Rassendyll, and that I played the king only in order to serve the queen - and punish Rupert of Hentzau. That will serve, and it will cut this net of - Sapt’s from about my limbs.” - </p> - <p> - He spoke firmly and coldly; so that when I looked at him I was amazed to - see how his lips twitched and that his forehead was moist with sweat. Then - I understood what a sudden, swift, and fearful struggle he had suffered, - and how the great temptation had wrung and tortured him before he, - victorious, had set the thing behind him. I went to him and clasped his - hand: this action of mine seemed to soften him. - </p> - <p> - “Sapt, Sapt,” he said, “you almost made a rogue of me.” - </p> - <p> - Sapt did not respond to his gentler mood. He had been pacing angrily up - and down the room. Now he stopped abruptly before Rudolf, and pointed with - his finger at the queen. - </p> - <p> - “I make a rogue of you?” he exclaimed. “And what do you make of our queen, - whom we all serve? What does this truth that you’ll tell make of her? - Haven’t I heard how she greeted you before all Strelsau as her husband and - her love? Will they believe that she didn’t know her husband? Ay, you may - show yourself, you may say they didn’t know you. Will they believe she - didn’t? Was the king’s ring on your finger? Where is it? And how comes Mr. - Rassendyll to be at Fritz von Tarlenheim’s for hours with the queen, when - the king is at his hunting lodge? A king has died already, and two men - besides, to save a word against her. And you—you’ll be the man to - set every tongue in Strelsau talking, and every finger pointing in - suspicion at her?” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf made no answer. When Sapt had first uttered the queen’s name, he - had drawn near and let his hand fall over the back of her chair. She put - hers up to meet it, and so they remained. But I saw that Rudolf’s face had - gone very pale. - </p> - <p> - “And we, your friends?” pursued Sapt. “For we’ve stood by you as we’ve - stood by the queen, by God we have—Fritz, and young Bernenstein - here, and I. If this truth’s told, who’ll believe that we were loyal to - the king, that we didn’t know, that we weren’t accomplices in the tricking - of the king—maybe, in his murder? Ah, Rudolf Rassendyll, God - preserve me from a conscience that won’t let me be true to the woman I - love, or to the friends who love me!” - </p> - <p> - I had never seen the old fellow so moved; he carried me with him, as he - carried Bernenstein. I know now that we were too ready to be convinced; - rather that, borne along by our passionate desire, we needed no convincing - at all. His excited appeal seemed to us an argument. At least the danger - to the queen, on which he dwelt, was real and true and great. - </p> - <p> - Then a sudden change came over him. He caught Rudolf’s hand and spoke to - him again in a low, broken voice, an unwonted softness transforming his - harsh tones. - </p> - <p> - “Lad,” he said, “don’t say no. Here’s the finest lady alive sick for her - lover, and the finest country in the world sick for its true king, and the - best friends—ay, by Heaven, the best friends—man ever had, - sick to call you master. I know nothing about your conscience; but this I - know: the king’s dead, and the place is empty; and I don’t see what - Almighty God sent you here for unless it was to fill it. Come, lad—for - our love and her honor! While he was alive I’d have killed you sooner than - let you take it. He’s dead. Now—for our love and her honor, lad!” - </p> - <p> - I do not know what thoughts passed in Mr. Rassendyll’s mind. His face was - set and rigid. He made no sign when Sapt finished, but stood as he was, - motionless, for a long while. Then he slowly bent his head and looked down - into the queen’s eyes. For a while she sat looking back into his. Then, - carried away by the wild hope of immediate joy, and by her love for him - and her pride in the place he was offered, she sprang up and threw herself - at his feet, crying: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes! For my sake, Rudolf—for my sake!” - </p> - <p> - “Are you, too, against me, my queen?” he murmured caressing her ruddy - hair. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX. THE DECISION OF HEAVEN - </h2> - <p> - WE were half mad that night, Sapt and Bernenstein and I. The thing seemed - to have got into our blood and to have become part of ourselves. For us it - was inevitable—nay, it was done. Sapt busied himself in preparing - the account of the fire at the hunting-lodge; it was to be communicated to - the journals, and it told with much circumstantiality how Rudolf - Rassendyll had come to visit the king, with James his servant, and, the - king being summoned unexpectedly to the capital, had been awaiting his - Majesty’s return when he met his fate. There was a short history of - Rudolf, a glancing reference to his family, a dignified expression of - condolence with his relatives, to whom the king was sending messages of - deepest regret by the hands of Mr. Rassendyll’s servant. At another table - young Bernenstein was drawing up, under the constable’s direction, a - narrative of Rupert of Hentzau’s attempt on the king’s life and the king’s - courage in defending himself. The count, eager to return (so it ran), had - persuaded the king to meet him by declaring that he held a state-document - of great importance and of a most secret nature; the king, with his - habitual fearlessness, had gone alone, but only to refuse with scorn Count - Rupert’s terms. Enraged at this unfavorable reception, the audacious - criminal had made a sudden attack on the king, with what issue all knew. - He had met his own death, while the king, perceiving from a glance at the - document that it compromised well-known persons, had, with the nobility - which marked him, destroyed it unread before the eyes of those who were - rushing in to his rescue. I supplied suggestions and improvements; and, - engrossed in contriving how to blind curious eyes, we forgot the real and - permanent difficulties of the thing we had resolved upon. For us they did - not exist; Sapt met every objection by declaring that the thing had been - done once and could be done again. Bernenstein and I were not behind him - in confidence. - </p> - <p> - We would guard the secret with brain and hand and life, even as we had - guarded and kept the secret of the queen’s letter, which would now go with - Rupert of Hentzau to his grave. Bauer we could catch and silence: nay, who - would listen to such a tale from such a man? Rischenheim was ours; the old - woman would keep her doubts between her teeth for her own sake. To his own - land and his own people Rudolf must be dead while the King of Ruritania - would stand before all Europe recognized, unquestioned, unassailed. True, - he must marry the queen again; Sapt was ready with the means, and would - hear nothing of the difficulty and risk in finding a hand to perform the - necessary ceremony. If we quailed in our courage: we had but to look at - the alternative, and find recompense for the perils of what we meant to - undertake by a consideration of the desperate risk involved in abandoning it. - Persuaded that the substitution of Rudolf for the king was the only thing that would - serve our turn, we asked no longer whether it was possible, but sought only - the means to make it safe. - </p> - <p> - But Rudolf himself had not spoken. Sapt’s appeal and the queen’s imploring - cry had shaken but not overcome him; he had wavered, but he was not won. - Yet there was no talk of impossibility or peril in his mouth, any more - than in ours: those were not what gave him pause. The score on which he - hesitated was whether the thing should be done, not whether it could; our - appeals were not to brace a failing courage, but cajole a sturdy sense of - honor which found the imposture distasteful so soon as it seemed to serve - a personal end. To serve the king he had played the king in old days, but - he did not love to play the king when the profit of it was to be his own. - Hence he was unmoved till his care for the fair fame of the queen and the - love of his friends joined to buffet his resolution. - </p> - <p> - Then he faltered; but he had not fallen. Yet Colonel Sapt did all as - though he had given his assent, and watched the last hours in which his - flight from Strelsau was possible go quickly by with more than equanimity. - Why hurry Rudolf’s resolve? Every moment shut him closer in the trap of an - inevitable choice. With every hour that he was called the king, it became - more impossible for him to bear any other name all his days. Therefore - Sapt let Mr. Rassendyll doubt and struggle, while he himself wrote his - story and laid his long-headed plans. And now and then James, the little - servant, came in and went out, sedate and smug, but with a quiet - satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He had made a story for a pastime, and - it was being translated into history. He at least would bear his part in - it unflinchingly. - </p> - <p> - Before now the queen had left us, persuaded to lie down and try to rest - till the matter should be settled. Stilled by Rudolf’s gentle rebuke, she - had urged him no more in words, but there was an entreaty in her eyes - stronger than any spoken prayer, and a piteousness in the lingering of her - hand in his harder to resist than ten thousand sad petitions. At last he - had led her from the room and commended her to Helga’s care. Then, - returning to us, he stood silent a little while. We also were silent, Sapt - sitting and looking up at him with his brows knit and his teeth restlessly - chewing the moustache on his lip. - </p> - <p> - “Well, lad?” he said at last, briefly putting the great question. Rudolf - walked to the window and seemed to lose himself for a moment in the - contemplation of the quiet night. There were no more than a few stragglers - in the street now; the moon shone white and clear on the empty square. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to walk up and down outside and think it over,” he said, - turning to us; and, as Bernenstein sprang up to accompany him, he added, - “No. Alone.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, do,” said old Sapt, with a glance at the clock, whose hands were now - hard on two o’clock. “Take your time, lad, take your time.” - </p> - <p> - Rudolf looked at him and broke into a smile. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not your dupe, old Sapt,” said he, shaking his head. “Trust me, if I - decide to get away, I’ll get away, be it what o’clock it will.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, confound you!” grinned Colonel Sapt. - </p> - <p> - So he left us, and then came that long time of scheming and planning, and - most persistent eye-shutting, in which occupations an hour wore its life - away. Rudolf had not passed out of the porch, and we supposed that he had - betaken himself to the gardens, there to fight his battle. Old Sapt, - having done his work, suddenly turned talkative. - </p> - <p> - “That moon there,” he said, pointing his square, thick forefinger at the - window, “is a mighty untrustworthy lady. I’ve known her wake a villain’s - conscience before now.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve known her send a lover’s to sleep,” laughed young Bernenstein, - rising from his table, stretching himself, and lighting a cigar. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, she’s apt to take a man out of what he is,” pursued old Sapt. “Set a - quiet man near her, and he dreams of battle; an ambitious fellow, after - ten minutes of her, will ask nothing better than to muse all his life - away. I don’t trust her, Fritz; I wish the night were dark.” - </p> - <p> - “What will she do to Rudolf Rassendyll?” I asked, falling in with the old - fellow’s whimsical mood. - </p> - <p> - “He will see the queen’s face in hers,” cried Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “He may see God’s,” said Sapt; and he shook himself as though an unwelcome - thought had found its way to his mind and lips. - </p> - <p> - A pause fell on us, born of the colonel’s last remark. We looked one - another in the face. At last Sapt brought his hand down on the table with - a bang. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll not go back,” he said sullenly, almost fiercely. - </p> - <p> - “Nor I,” said Bernenstein, drawing himself up. “Nor you, Tarlenheim?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I also go on,” I answered. Then again there was a moment’s silence. - </p> - <p> - “She may make a man soft as a sponge,” reflected Sapt, starting again, “or - hard as a bar of steel. I should feel safer if the night were dark. I’ve - looked at her often from my tent and from bare ground, and I know her. She - got me a decoration, and once she came near to making me turn tail. Have - nothing to do with her, young Bernenstein.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll keep my eyes for beauties nearer at hand,” said Bernenstein, whose - volatile temper soon threw off a serious mood. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a chance for you, now Rupert of Hentzau’s gone,” said Sapt - grimly. - </p> - <p> - As he spoke there was a knock at the door. When it opened James entered. - </p> - <p> - “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim begs to be allowed to speak with the - king,” said James. - </p> - <p> - “We expect his Majesty every moment. Beg the count to enter,” Sapt - answered; and, when Rischenheim came in, he went on, motioning the count - to a chair: “We are talking, my lord, of the influence of the moon on the - careers of men.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do? What have you decided?” burst out Rischenheim - impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “We decide nothing,” answered Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “Then what has Mr.—what has the king decided?” - </p> - <p> - “The king decides nothing, my lord. She decides,” and the old fellow - pointed again through the window towards the moon. “At this moment she - makes or unmakes a king; but I can’t tell you which. What of your cousin?” - </p> - <p> - “You know that my cousin’s dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know that. What of him, though?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Rischenheim with some dignity, “since he is dead, let him rest - in peace. It is not for us to judge him.” - </p> - <p> - “He may well wish it were. For, by Heaven, I believe I should let the - rogue off,” said Colonel Sapt, “and I don’t think his Judge will.” - </p> - <p> - “God forgive him, I loved him,” said Rischenheim. “Yes, and many have - loved him. His servants loved him, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Friend Bauer, for example?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Bauer loved him. Where is Bauer?” - </p> - <p> - “I hope he’s gone to hell with his loved master,” grunted Sapt, but he had - the grace to lower his voice and shield his mouth with his hand, so that - Rischenheim did not hear. - </p> - <p> - “We don’t know where he is,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “I am come,” said Rischenheim, “to put my services in all respects at the - queen’s disposal.” - </p> - <p> - “And at the king’s?” asked Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “At the king’s? But the king is dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Therefore ‘Long live the king!’” struck in young Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - “If there should be a king—” began Sapt. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll do that?” interrupted Rischenheim in breathless agitation. - </p> - <p> - “She is deciding,” said Colonel Sapt, and again he pointed to the moon. - </p> - <p> - “But she’s a plaguey long time about it,” remarked Lieutenant von - Bernenstein. - </p> - <p> - Rischenheim sat silent for a moment. His face was pale, and when he spoke - his voice trembled. But his words were resolute enough. - </p> - <p> - “I gave my honor to the queen, and even in that I will serve her if she - commands me.” - </p> - <p> - Bernenstein sprang forward and caught him by the hand. “That’s what I - like,” said he, “and damn the moon, colonel!” His sentence was hardly out - of his mouth when the door opened, and to our astonishment the queen - entered. Helga was just behind her; her clasped hands and frightened eyes - seemed to protest that their coming was against her will. The queen was - clad in a long white robe, and her hair hung on her shoulders, being but - loosely bound with a ribbon. Her air showed great agitation, and without - any greeting or notice of the rest she walked quickly across the room to - me. - </p> - <p> - “The dream, Fritz,” she said. “It has come again. Helga persuaded me to - lie down, and I was very tired, so at last I fell asleep. Then it came. I - saw him, Fritz—I saw him as plainly as I see you. They all called - him king, as they did to-day; but they did not cheer. They were quiet, and - looked at him with sad faces. I could not hear what they said; they spoke - in hushed voices. I heard nothing more than ‘the king, the king,’ and he - seemed to hear not even that. He lay still; he was lying on something, - something covered with hanging stuff, I couldn’t see what it was; yes, - quite still. His face was so pale, and he didn’t hear them say ‘the king.’ - Fritz, Fritz, he looked as if he were dead! Where is he? Where have you - let him go?” - </p> - <p> - She turned from me and her eyes flashed over the rest. “Where is he? Why - aren’t you with him?” she demanded, with a sudden change of tone; “why - aren’t you round him? You should be between him and danger, ready to give - your lives for his. Indeed, gentlemen, you take your duty lightly.” - </p> - <p> - It might be that there was little reason in her words. There appeared to - be no danger threatening him, and after all he was not our king, much as - we desired to make him such. Yet we did not think of any such matter. We - were abashed before her reproof and took her indignation as deserved. We - hung our heads, and Sapt’s shame betrayed itself in the dogged sullenness - of his answer. - </p> - <p> - “He has chosen to go walking, madam, and to go alone. He ordered us—I - say, he ordered us not to come. Surely we are right to obey him?” The - sarcastic inflection of his voice conveyed his opinion of the queen’s - extravagance. - </p> - <p> - “Obey him? Yes. You couldn’t go with him if he forbade you. But you should - follow him; you should keep him in sight.” - </p> - <p> - This much she spoke in proud tones and with a disdainful manner, but then - came a sudden return to her former bearing. She held out her hands towards - me, wailing: - </p> - <p> - “Fritz, where is he? Is he safe? Find him for me, Fritz; find him.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll find him for you if he’s above ground, madam,” I cried, for her - appeal touched me to the heart. - </p> - <p> - “He’s no farther off than the gardens,” grumbled old Sapt, still resentful - of the queen’s reproof and scornful of the woman’s agitation. He was also - out of temper with Rudolf himself, because the moon took so long in - deciding whether she would make or unmake a king. - </p> - <p> - “The gardens!” she cried. “Then let us look for him. Oh, you’ve let him - walk in the gardens alone?” - </p> - <p> - “What should harm the fellow?” muttered Sapt. - </p> - <p> - She did not hear him, for she had swept out of the room. Helga went with - her, and we all followed, Sapt behind the rest of us, still very surly. I - heard him grumbling away as we ran downstairs, and, having passed along - the great corridor, came to the small saloon that opened on the gardens. - There were no servants about, but we encountered a night-watchman, and - Bernenstein snatched the lantern from the astonished man’s hand. - </p> - <p> - Save for the dim light thus furnished, the room was dark. But outside the - windows the moon streamed brightly down on the broad gravel walk, on the - formal flower-beds, and the great trees in the gardens. The queen made - straight for the window. I followed her, and, having flung the window - open, stood by her. The air was sweet, and the breeze struck with grateful - coolness on my face. I saw that Sapt had come near and stood on the other - side of the queen. My wife and the others were behind, looking out where - our shoulders left space. - </p> - <p> - There, in the bright moonlight, on the far side of the broad terrace, - close by the line of tall trees that fringed its edge, we saw Rudolf - Rassendyll pacing slowly up and down, with his hands behind his back and - his eyes fixed on the arbiter of his fate, on her who was to make him a - king or send him a fugitive from Strelsau. - </p> - <p> - “There he is, madam,” said Sapt. “Safe enough!” - </p> - <p> - The queen did not answer. Sapt said no more, and of the rest of us none - spoke. We stood watching him as he struggled with his great issue; a - greater surely has seldom fallen to the lot of any man born in a private - station. Yet I could read little of it on the face that the rays of white - light displayed so clearly, although they turned his healthy tints to a - dull gray, and gave unnatural sharpness to his features against the deep - background of black foliage. - </p> - <p> - I heard the queen’s quick breathing, but there was scarcely another sound. - I saw her clutch her gown and pull it away a little from her throat; save - for that none in the group moved. The lantern’s light was too dim to force - notice from Mr. Rassendyll. Unconscious of our presence, he wrestled with - fate that night in the gardens. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly the faintest exclamation came from Sapt. He put his hand back and - beckoned to Bernenstein. The young man handed his lantern to the - constable, who set it close to the side of the window-frame. The queen, - absolutely engrossed in her lover, saw nothing, but I perceived what had - caught Sapt’s attention. There were scores on the paint and indentations - in the wood, just at the edge of the panel and near the lock. I glanced at - Sapt, who nodded his head. It looked very much as though somebody had - tried to force the door that night, employing a knife which had dented the - woodwork and scratched the paint. The least thing was enough to alarm us, - standing where we stood, and the constable’s face was full of suspicion. - Who had sought an entrance? It could be no trained and practised - housebreaker; he would have had better tools. - </p> - <p> - But now our attention was again diverted. Rudolf stopped short. He still - looked for a moment at the sky, then his glance dropped to the ground at - his feet. A second later he jerked his head—it was bare, and I saw - the dark red hair stir with the movement—like a man who has settled - something which caused him a puzzle. In an instant we knew, by the quick - intuition of contagious emotion, that the question had found its answer. - He was by now king or a fugitive. The Lady of the Skies had given her - decision. The thrill ran through us; I felt the queen draw herself - together at my side; I felt the muscles of Rischenheim’s arm which rested - against my shoulder grow rigid and taut. Sapt’s face was full of - eagerness, and he gnawed his moustache silently. We gathered closer to one - another. At last we could bear the suspense no longer. With one look at - the queen and another at me, Sapt stepped on to the gravel. He would go - and learn the answer; thus the unendurable strain that had stretched us - like tortured men on a rack would be relieved. The queen did not answer - his glance, nor even seem to see that he had moved. Her eyes were still - all for Mr. Rassendyll, her thoughts buried in his; for her happiness was - in his hands and lay poised on the issue of that decision whose - momentousness held him for a moment motionless on the path. Often I seem - to see him as he stood there, tall, straight, and stately, the king a - man’s fancy paints when he reads of great monarchs who flourished long ago - in the springtime of the world. - </p> - <p> - Sapt’s step crunched on the gravel. Rudolf heard it and turned his head. - He saw Sapt, and he saw me also behind Sapt. He smiled composedly and - brightly, but he did not move from where he was. He held out both hands - towards the constable and caught him in their double grasp, still smiling - down in his face. I was no nearer to reading his decision, though I saw - that he had reached a resolution that was immovable and gave peace to his - soul. If he meant to go on he would go on now, on to the end, without a - backward look or a falter of his foot; if he had chosen the other way, he - would depart without a murmur or a hesitation. The queen’s quick breathing - had ceased, she seemed like a statue; but Rischenheim moved impatiently, - as though he could no longer endure the waiting. - </p> - <p> - Sapt’s voice came harsh and grating. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” he cried. “Which is it to be—backward or forward?” Rudolf - pressed his hands and looked into his eyes. The answer asked but a word - from him. The queen caught my arm; her rigid limbs seemed to give way, and - she would have fallen if I had not supported her. At the same instant a - man sprang out of the dark line of tall trees, directly behind Mr. - Rassendyll. Bernenstein uttered a loud startled cry and rushed forward, - pushing the queen herself violently out of his path. His hand flew to his - side, and he ripped the heavy cavalry sword that belonged to his uniform - of the Cuirassiers of the Guard from its sheath. I saw it flash in the - moonlight, but its flash was quenched in a brighter short blaze. A shot - rang out through the quiet gardens. Mr. Rassendyll did not loose his hold - of Sapt’s hands, but he sank slowly on to his knees. Sapt seemed - paralyzed. - </p> - <p> - Again Bernenstein cried out. It was a name this time. “Bauer! By God, - Bauer!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - In an instant he was across the path and by the trees. The assassin fired - again, but now he missed. We saw the great sword flash high above - Bernenstein’s head and heard it whistle through the air. It crashed on the - crown of Bauer’s head, and he fell like a log to the ground with his skull - split. The queen’s hold on me relaxed; she sank into Rischenheim’s arms. I - ran forward and knelt by Mr. Rassendyll. He still held Sapt’s hands, and - by their help buoyed himself up. But when he saw me he let go of them and - sank back against me, his head resting on my chest. He moved his lips, but - seemed unable to speak. He was shot through the back. Bauer had avenged - the master whom he loved, and was gone to meet him. - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden stir from inside the palace. Shutters were flung back - and windows thrown open. The group we made stood clean-cut, plainly - visible in the moonlight. A moment later there was a rush of eager feet, - and we were surrounded by officers and servants. Bernenstein stood by me - now, leaning on his sword; Sapt had not uttered a word; his face was - distorted with horror and bitterness. Rudolf’s eyes were closed and his - head lay back against me. - </p> - <p> - “A man has shot the king,” said I, in bald, stupid explanation. - </p> - <p> - All at once I found James, Mr. Rassendyll’s servant, by me. - </p> - <p> - “I have sent for doctors, my lord,” he said. “Come, let us carry him in.” - </p> - <p> - He, Sapt and I lifted Rudolf and bore him across the gravel terrace and - into the little saloon. We passed the queen. She was leaning on - Rischenheim’s arm, and held my wife’s hand. We laid Rudolf down on a - couch. Outside I heard Bernenstein say, “Pick up that fellow and carry him - somewhere out of sight.” Then he also came in, followed by a crowd. He - sent them all to the door, and we were left alone, waiting for the - surgeon. The queen came up, Rischenheim still supporting her. “Rudolf! - Rudolf!” she whispered, very softly. - </p> - <p> - He opened his eyes, and his lips bent in a smile. She flung herself on her - knees and kissed his hand passionately. “The surgeon will be here - directly,” said I. - </p> - <p> - Rudolf’s eyes had been on the queen. As I spoke he looked up at me, smiled - again, and shook his head. I turned away. - </p> - <p> - When the surgeon came Sapt and I assisted him in his examination. The - queen had been led away, and we were alone. The examination was very - short. Then we carried Rudolf to a bed; the nearest chanced to be in - Bernenstein’s room; there we laid him, and there all that could be done - for him was done. All this time we had asked no questions of the surgeon, - and he had given no information. We knew too well to ask: we had all seen - men die before now, and the look on the face was familiar to us. Two or - three more doctors, the most eminent in Strelsau, came now, having been - hastily summoned. It was their right to be called; but, for all the good - they were, they might have been left to sleep the night out in their beds. - They drew together in a little group at the end of the room and talked for - a few minutes in low tones. James lifted his master’s head and gave him a - drink of water. Rudolf swallowed it with difficulty. Then I saw him feebly - press James’s hand, for the little man’s face was full of sorrow. As his - master smiled the servant mustered a smile in answer. I crossed over to - the doctors. “Well, gentlemen?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - They looked at one another, then the greatest of them said gravely: - </p> - <p> - “The king may live an hour, Count Fritz. Should you not send for a - priest?” - </p> - <p> - I went straight back to Rudolf Rassendyll. His eyes greeted me and - questioned me. He was a man, and I played no silly tricks with him. I bent - down and said: “An hour, they think, Rudolf.” - </p> - <p> - He made one restless movement, whether of pain or protest I do not know. - Then he spoke, very low, slowly, and with difficulty. - </p> - <p> - “Then they can go,” he said; and when I spoke of a priest he shook his - head. - </p> - <p> - I went back to them and asked if anything more could be done. The answer - was nothing; but I could not prevail further than to get all save one sent - into an adjoining room; he who remained seated himself at a table some way - off. Rudolf’s eyes had closed again; old Sapt, who had not once spoken - since the shot was fired, raised a haggard face to mine. - </p> - <p> - “We’d better fetch her to him,” he said hoarsely. I nodded my head. - </p> - <p> - Sapt went while I stayed by him. Bernenstein came to him, bent down, and - kissed his hand. The young fellow, who had borne himself with such - reckless courage and dash throughout the affair, was quite unmanned now, - and the tears were rolling down his face. I could have been much in the - same plight, but I would not before Mr. Rassendyll. He smiled at - Bernenstein. Then he said to me: - </p> - <p> - “Is she coming, Fritz?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, she’s coming, sire,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He noticed the style of my address; a faint amused gleam shot into his - languid eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Well, for an hour, then,” he murmured, and lay back on his pillows. - </p> - <p> - She came, dry-eyed, calm, and queenly. We all drew back, and she knelt - down by his bed, holding his hand in her two hands. Presently the hand - stirred; she let it go; then, knowing well what he wanted, she raised it - herself and placed it on her head, while she bowed her face to the bed. - His hand wandered for the last time over the gleaming hair that he had - loved so well. She rose, passed her arm about his shoulders, and kissed - his lips. Her face rested close to his, and he seemed to speak to her, but - we could not have heard the words even if we would. So they remained for a - long while. - </p> - <p> - The doctor came and felt his pulse, retreating afterwards with close-shut - lips. We drew a little nearer, for we knew that he would not be long with - us now. Suddenly strength seemed to come upon him. He raised himself in - his bed, and spoke in distinct tones. - </p> - <p> - “God has decided,” he said. “I’ve tried to do the right thing through it - all. Sapt, and Bernenstein, and you, old Fritz, shake my hand. No, don’t - kiss it. We’ve done with pretence now.” - </p> - <p> - We shook his hand as he bade us. Then he took the queen’s hand. Again she - knew his mind, and moved it to his lips. “In life and in death, my sweet - queen,” he murmured. And thus he fell asleep. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI. THE COMING OF THE DREAM - </h2> - <p> - THERE IS little need, and I have little heart, to dwell on what followed - the death of Mr. Rassendyll. The plans we had laid to secure his tenure of - the throne, in case he had accepted it, served well in the event of his - death. Bauer’s lips were for ever sealed; the old woman was too scared and - appalled to hint even to her gossips of the suspicions she entertained. - Rischenheim was loyal to the pledge he had given to the queen. The ashes - of the hunting-lodge held their secret fast, and none suspected when the - charred body which was called Rudolf Rassendyll’s was laid to quiet rest - in the graveyard of the town of Zenda, hard by the tomb of Herbert the - forester. For we had from the first rejected any idea of bringing the - king’s body to Strelsau and setting it in the place of Mr. Rassendyll’s. - The difficulties of such an undertaking were almost insuperable; in our - hearts we did not desire to conquer them. As a king Rudolf Rassendyll had - died, as a king let him lie. As a king he lay in his palace at Strelsau, - while the news of his murder at the hands of a confederate of Rupert of - Hentzau went forth to startle and appall the world. At a mighty price our - task had been made easy; many might have doubted the living, none - questioned the dead; suspicions which might have gathered round a throne - died away at the gate of a vault. The king was dead. Who would ask if it - were in truth the king who lay in state in the great hall of the palace, - or whether the humble grave at Zenda held the bones of the last male - Elphberg? In the silence of the grave all murmurs and questionings were - hushed. - </p> - <p> - Throughout the day people had been passing and repassing through the great - hall. There, on a stately bier surmounted by a crown and the drooping - folds of the royal banner, lay Rudolf Rassendyll. The highest officer - guarded him; in the cathedral the archbishop said a mass for his soul. He - had lain there three days; the evening of the third had come, and early on - the morrow he was to be buried. There is a little gallery in the hall, - that looks down on the spot where the bier stood; here was I on this - evening, and with me Queen Flavia. We were alone together, and together we - saw beneath us the calm face of the dead man. He was clad in the white - uniform in which he had been crowned; the ribbon of the Red Rose was - across his breast. His hand held a true red rose, fresh and fragrant; - Flavia herself had set it there, that even in death he might not miss the - chosen token of her love. I had not spoken to her, nor she to me, since we - came there. We watched the pomp round him, and the circles of people that - came to bring a wreath for him or to look upon his face. I saw a girl come - and kneel long at the bier’s foot. She rose and went away sobbing, leaving - a little circlet of flowers. It was Rosa Holf. I saw women come and go - weeping, and men bite their lips as they passed by. Rischenheim came, - pale-faced and troubled; and while all came and went, there, immovable, - with drawn sword, in military stiffness, old Sapt stood at the head of the - bier, his eyes set steadily in front of him, and his body never stirring - from hour to hour through the long day. - </p> - <p> - A distant faint hum of voices reached us. The queen laid her hand on my - arm. - </p> - <p> - “It is the dream, Fritz,” she said. “Hark! They speak of the king; they - speak in low voices and with grief, but they call him king. It’s what I - saw in the dream. But he does not hear nor heed. No, he can’t hear nor - heed even when I call him my king.” - </p> - <p> - A sudden impulse came on me, and I turned to her, asking: - </p> - <p> - “What had he decided, madam? Would he have been king?” She started a - little. - </p> - <p> - “He didn’t tell me,” she answered, “and I didn’t think of it while he - spoke to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Of what then did he speak, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Only of his love—of nothing but his love, Fritz,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - Well, I take it that when a man comes to die, love is more to him than a - kingdom: it may be, if we could see truly, that it is more to him even - while he lives. - </p> - <p> - “Of nothing but his great love for me, Fritz,” she said again. “And my - love brought him to his death.” - </p> - <p> - “He wouldn’t have had it otherwise,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “No,” she whispered; and she leant over the parapet of the gallery, - stretching out her arms to him. But he lay still and quiet, not hearing - and not heeding what she murmured, “My king! my king!” It was even as it - had been in the dream. - </p> - <p> - That night James, the servant, took leave of his dead master and of us. He - carried to England by word of mouth—for we dared write nothing down—the - truth concerning the King of Ruritania and Mr. Rassendyll. It was to be - told to the Earl of Burlesdon, Rudolf’s brother, under a pledge of - secrecy; and to this day the earl is the only man besides ourselves who - knows the story. His errand done, James returned in order to enter the - queen’s service, in which he still is; and he told us that when Lord - Burlesdon had heard the story he sat silent for a great while, and then - said: - </p> - <p> - “He did well. Some day I will visit his grave. Tell her Majesty that there - is still a Rassendyll, if she has need of one.” - </p> - <p> - The offer was such as should come from a man of Rudolf’s name, yet I trust - that the queen needs no further service than such as it is our humble duty - and dear delight to render her. It is our part to strive to lighten the - burden that she bears, and by our love to assuage her undying grief. For - she reigns now in Ruritania alone, the last of all the Elphbergs; and her - only joy is to talk of Mr. Rassendyll with those few who knew him, her - only hope that she may some day be with him again. - </p> - <p> - In great pomp we laid him to his rest in the vault of the kings of - Ruritania in the Cathedral of Strelsau. There he lies among the princes of - the House of Elphberg. I think that if there be indeed any consciousness - among the dead, or any knowledge of what passes in the world they have - left, they should be proud to call him brother. There rises in memory of - him a stately monument, and people point it out to one another as the - memorial of King Rudolf. I go often to the spot, and recall in thought all - that passed when he came the first time to Zenda, and again on his second - coming. For I mourn him as a man mourns a trusted leader and a loved - comrade, and I should have asked no better than to be allowed to serve him - all my days. Yet I serve the queen, and in that I do most truly serve her - lover. - </p> - <p> - Times change for all of us. The roaring flood of youth goes by, and the - stream of life sinks to a quiet flow. Sapt is an old man now; soon my sons - will be grown up, men enough themselves to serve Queen Flavia. Yet the - memory of Rudolf Rassendyll is fresh to me as on the day he died, and the - vision of the death of Rupert of Hentzau dances often before my eyes. It - may be that some day the whole story shall be told, and men shall judge of - it for themselves. To me it seems now as though all had ended well. I must - not be misunderstood: my heart is still sore for the loss of him. But we - saved the queen’s fair fame, and to Rudolf himself the fatal stroke came - as a relief from a choice too difficult: on the one side lay what impaired - his own honor, on the other what threatened hers. As I think on this my - anger at his death is less, though my grief cannot be. To this day I know - not how he chose; no, and I don’t know how he should have chosen. Yet he - had chosen, for his face was calm and clear. - </p> - <p> - Come, I have thought so much of him that I will go now and stand before - his monument, taking with me my last-born son, a little lad of ten. He is - not too young to desire to serve the queen, and not too young to learn to - love and reverence him who sleeps there in the vault and was in his life - the noblest gentleman I have known. - </p> - <p> - I will take the boy with me and tell him what I may of brave King Rudolf, - how he fought and how he loved, and how he held the queen’s honor and his - own above all things in this world. The boy is not too young to learn such - lessons from the life of Mr. Rassendyll. And while we stand there I will - turn again into his native tongue—for, alas, the young rogue loves - his toy soldiers better than his Latin!—the inscription that the - queen wrote with her own hand, directing that it should be inscribed in - that stately tongue over the tomb in which her life lies buried. - </p> - <p> - “To Rudolf, who reigned lately in this city, and reigns for ever in her - heart.—QUEEN FLAVIA.” - </p> - <p> - I told him the meaning, and he spelt the big words over in his childish - voice; at first he stumbled, but the second time he had it right, and - recited with a little touch of awe in his fresh young tones: - </p> - <p> - RUDOLFO - </p> - <p> - Qui in hac civitate nuper regnavit In corde ipsius in aeternum regnat - </p> - <p> - FLAVIA REGINA. - </p> - <p> - I felt his hand tremble in mine, and he looked up in my face. “God save - the Queen, father,” said he. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rupert of Hentzau, by Anthony Hope - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUPERT OF HENTZAU *** - -***** This file should be named 1145-h.htm or 1145-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/1145/ - -Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” - or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - </body> -</html> |